Diabolical Ingenuity

I read issue #3 of 'New Avengers: Illuminati' on Thursday. The series, for those of you unfamiliar with it, is a sort of "secret history" of the Marvel Universe, in which it is revealed that Mister Fantastic, Iron Man, Professor X, Doctor Strange, the Sub-Mariner, and Black Bolt of the Inhumans have had a secret cabal for decades that's been doing the "dirty work" that keeps the Marvel Universe ticking along nicely. Every issue has focused on a major Marvel event, and has proceeded to retcon in a behind-the-scenes explanation of how the Illuminati made it happen.

After reading issue #3, I found myself wondering what exactly the point of the series was. Because I really could not, for the life of me, think of one. It wasn't just that the comic was terrible (although it was.) It's that it was so genuinely pointless a story, designed around a comics plotline from twenty years ago that only continuity-obsessed fanboys remember, written solely to retcon out certain elements of the story that the writer apparently didn't like, that I could not for the life of me imagine who it was written for. Nobody but the most rabid, continuity-minded fanboy could possibly be interested in this comic, and every single one of them hates it with an absolute passion because the retroactive continuity that they're employing is so slipshod, nonsensical, and hamfisted that it'll take years to explain the new explanations.

(I've resisted explaining the issue because thinking about it makes my head hurt and because it involves explaining a ton of Marvel continuity, but here goes: 'Secret Wars' introduced the Beyonder, a nebulous omnipotent being from outside of the known universe who wanted to "understand" humanity, so he kidnapped a bunch of super-heroes and super-villains, promised them their heart's desire if they defeated their enemies, and watched the ensuing battle. The series proved popular, so they did a sequel, 'Secret Wars II', in which the Beyonder continued his studies by coming to Earth, taking human form, and interacting with Earth's super-heroes. At the end of the series, he apparently died, having taken "being human" a bit too literally, but his power flowed back into his home universe where it became a new Big Bang, creating this new universe in the image of our own. Still later, in 'Fantastic Four' #319, it was revealed that the Beyonder's consciousness survived with his power, and that it was by his will that the new universe became what it did--he found happiness by becoming a god. But he found out that the reason he could never be happy and was never complete was that he was actually part of a larger cosmic artifact called a Cosmic Cube, the other part of which was "lodged" in the Molecule Man and was responsible for him having super-powers. The Beyonder and the Molecule Man merged to form the Cube, which in later FF issues became a being known as Kosmos, who has been seen periodically since.)

(Except that this issue of Illuminati reveals that no, the Beyonder was actually an Inhuman--one of Black Bolt's species--who was also a mutant, and that he actually made a duplicate Manhattan out near the asteroid belt and interacted with elaborate mock-ups of Earth's super-people. So all of Secret Wars II, which was a crossover that ran to 42 issues and involved every single title Marvel published, in which the Beyonder resurrected Doctor Doom and cured Rick Jones of cancer...never happened. And neither did the issue where he found out he was a Cosmic Cube. Nor did any of his appearances after that.)

As I say, this left me wondering what the purpose of this comic was. If you're not a rabid fanboy, you won't care about any of this. And if you are, you will have a brain seizure and die from the sheer number of convolutions fitting this issue into continuity will require. So why...?

Then it hit me. That was the purpose of the series. Marvel has finally gotten sick of all the fanboys writing in and pointing out how they must have forgotten about issue #255 of Uncanny X-Men, in which we see Psylocke before the plastic surgery, so she can't be Kwannon, et cetera et cetera et cetera. They're tired of people pointing out their continuity errors, so they've decided to kill them all off by producing a comic whose retcons are so audaciously incompetent that comics fans will die of apopleptic fits of rage when they read them. 'New Avengers: Illuminati' is, in fact, a brilliantly conceived murder weapon, and all of fandom is the target.

So remember: Read this comic only under the influence of powerful sedatives. After all, if the writer was on drugs, you should be too.

Groovy

My recommendation for the day: 'Evil Dead: The Musical'. The soundtrack is available from Time/Life, you can pick it up through Amazon or at a number of retail outlets, and it's a hilarious amalgamation of the first two movies with the spirit of the third, and some extremely catchy songs (like "All of the Men In My Life Keep Getting Killed By Candarian Demons"). If you liked the movies, you'll probably also like the musical--Bruce Campbell did, and if it's got his personal seal of approval, you know it's good.

It's not worksafe, though. Just to warn you now. There is much swearing, innuendo, and descriptions of violence including, but not limited to chainsaw dismemberments, shootings, and the biting of one's hand by a dead moose. (Which would make a great MPAA ratings box. "Includes graphic violence, language, sexual situations, and attacks by dead moose.")

Doctor Who's Wacky Funtime Playhouse, Part Three

A day late, but this is the third and final part in the short story in which I attempted to create something completely new and different, similar only in the title and the use of "time travel" to the classic TV series 'Doctor Who'. As you'll soon see, this is also the point at which I realized I'd spectacularly failed...

Dale looked at him incredulously. “I’ll tell you what caused the end of it—I died! Or, I mean, I will die. As soon as you leave. Which I want you to do, because I just want to get this over with…I want to die. I can’t keep going anymore, and I can’t stop.”

“Why do you wish to die?” Gogos seemed puzzled.

“Because I’ve been doing this show, this albatross, this anchor, this…thing…for twenty years! It’s ruined me for any other acting work; can you imagine the host of ‘Doctor Who’s Wacky Funtime Playhouse’ doing Shakespeare, or ‘Death of a Salesman’? I can’t even go out and get drunk over it, because I’m supposed to be a role-model for kids! The show doesn’t pay enough for me to retire, I’ll never do any of the roles I got into acting to do…” The words poured out of him, twenty years of bile finally unleashed in a single flowing rant. “All my life, I wanted to touch people, and instead I wound up doing a local kid’s show for twenty years. It’s worthless.”

Gogos shook his head. “Perhaps you did not hear me,” he said. “You have touched all of us. The empires of my sector of space span a thousand worlds, with a thousand billion inhabitants. Each of us has our own religion, our own culture, our own taboos, our own emotions. There is no common ground, no touchstone for us. Every day, we each encounter perspectives so alien to our own that there seems no possible outcome but violence.

“Your show changed all that. Every week, we saw something that we could all understand and appreciate. Yes, it was silly. Yes, it was intended for children. Yes, the values it espoused were simple, sometimes unworkable in the real and complex world we live in. And yes, the production values were low. But it provided us with a sense of wonder, a simple pleasure and enjoyment that transcended our cultural barriers. Through you, Doctor Who, we gained a common ground that different cultures could all appreciate. Love, luck, and laughter. They are not such bad values to build upon.”

There was a long silence. At the end of it, Dale said, “Thank you,” very quietly.

“You are welcome,” Gogos said. “Now, please, continue with your suicide.”

Dale raised an eyebrow. “Um…it really doesn’t seem…I mean, I think I can go on now, because like you said, um…”

Gogos shook his head. “I am afraid there is nothing I can do here. The series ceased transmission on this date. It is a historical fact, and there is nothing I can do about it. A shame, but that is the laws of causality for you.” He paused, obviously pretending to be lost in thought and not quite managing to conceal a hint of smugness. “Unless…”

Dale said, “Spare me the acting. Unless what?”

Gogos said, “It occurs to me that I could use the time-belt to bring you with me back to my home on Vinoma in the future. From there, we could then bring you on a good-will tour of the planets of the empire, performing before all the different worlds and uniting the fractured races in a new order of peace and harmony. It will be difficult, of course. After seven years of fighting, some no longer wish for peace. You may have to perform to hostile crowds. Your life may even be in danger at times.” Gogos looked meaningfully at the drawer. “Then again, I am not certain how much more dangerous it could be than putting a loaded fire-arm in your mouth and pulling the trigger.”

Dale smiled ruefully. “I see your point. Sure, I’ll go.” He stood up. “I think my work is done here on Earth anyway.”

Gogos stood up as well. “Excellent,” he said. “Please, take my hand now, and we will transmit ourselves to the future.”

Dale clasped his hand with Gogos, and as he felt a strange, distant tingling sensation overwhelm him, he said the only words he could possibly think of as appropriate.

“Doctor Who prescribes love, luck, and laughter for the rest of the day!”

'Doctor Who's Wacky Funtime Playhouse', Part Two

A continuation of last week's story, which was written to the brief "Reinvent Doctor Who, keeping nothing but the name and the concept of time travel..."

Dale went into his dressing room, shut the door gently, and then carefully wedged one of the two spare chairs in the room underneath the doorknob. He could have just locked it, of course, or even just left it closed—people didn’t really walk in on him in his dressing room. But that seemed so un-melodramatic for what was, essentially, a huge cry for attention.

He sat down in his own chair, in front of the mirrored dresser where he did his own make-up, and reached into a drawer. He pulled out a piece of paper on which he’d already composed a note (sealing it carefully in a waterproof envelope), and a .22 caliber revolver. He held the gun nervously, turning it over in his hands with the wary air of someone new to the world of firearms. He was, in fact, new to the world of firearms; this was the first gun he’d ever owned in his life. He’d never felt any great need to possess one before, and had always worried about something going wrong with it—imaginary headlines like ‘CHILDREN’S TV STAR KILLS YOUNG BOY’ kept him from ever seriously contemplating having a gun. But he figured that by this point, he was through worrying about newspaper headlines. In fact, for the past year or so, he’d even taken a morbid pleasure in imagining them. Surely, he thought, everyone would understand. Many probably expected it. After all, if you were recognized anywhere you went as a man who dressed up in a goofy fake doctor’s outfit to entertain small children, wouldn’t you eat a bullet sooner or later?

His mind made up, he reached back into the drawer and pulled out a box of ammunition. He carefully loaded each chamber of the gun, one bullet at a time. He was aware that he’d probably only use one bullet, but decided that it was better to be safe than sorry. Then, snapping the chamber back into position, he put the barrel of the gun into his mouth, grimacing slightly at the taste of oiled metal. He cocked back the hammer. He closed his eyes tightly, and prepared for the release of oblivion.

“Excuse me,” someone said behind him, “but what are you doing?”

His finger tightened reflexively on the trigger in shock, and he suddenly realized three things in very short order. One, he’d forgotten to take the gun’s safety off. Two, the person watching him had just seen him humiliate himself further by trying to shoot himself in the face and failing. Three, there was someone watching him. Four, which came to him as a surprise bonus, that meant that there was someone in the room with him.

He opened his eyes and looked in the mirror. Behind him, a…a…a come-back-to-that-later had seated him…her…itself down in his other spare chair, and was looking at him with an expression of what looked like it might be polite interest. Dale wasn’t sure, because now that he did come back to it, the…person?...didn’t look human.

Oh, it looked human-ish. It had two arms, two legs, and a head. But it had two sets of ears, one right on top of the other, and its nose was just a flattish bump with two tiny slits that fluttered as it breathed. Its skin was a whitish-gray, the color of a four-week old corpse, and it had black, shark-like eyes. It stared at him, its fingers (seven on each hand) steepled together in a pose of patient interest. It opened its mouth and spoke again.

“I am sorry,” it said, “but again I must ask what it is that you are doing.”

Dale was so unnerved, he forgot he had a gun in his mouth. “Oo he huck ar oo?”

The creature blinked. Its eyelids were on the sides of its eyes, he noticed. “I am sorry, Doctor. I do not understand.”

Doctor? He took the gun out of his mouth and said, a bit more calmly, “I asked who you were.”

It smiled. Its teeth were all flat and rounded, like a horse’s teeth. “I am Gogos, High Researcher of the Vinomian Archives. Please, Doctor Who, forgive this intrusion. I do not wish to interrupt such an important moment in history, but we simply had to know for ourselves what happened to you.”

Dale slammed the gun down onto the drawer, suddenly irate at the intruder. “As it happens, I’m trying to kill myself. I was hoping to do so in privacy, and with perhaps a little dignity, but I guess that’s just a little too much to ask! Jeez!” He sighed. He paused as he actually started thinking about what the being had said. “What are you talking about?”

Gogos gestured towards him. “I am from a planet called Vinoma, five thousand light-years away from your world of Earth. We are an advanced species, capable of many technological feats that your planet has not yet developed even in our own time. For our signal-catchers, it is child’s play to capture and replay the transmissions of your Earth ‘television’. We have been watching your broadcasts for twenty years now, and the entertainment that ‘Doctor Who’s Wacky Funtime Playhouse’ has provided has helped unite the warring factions of our vast empire.

“Seven years ago by our time-scale, the transmissions ceased. Our records show that no episodes of ‘Doctor Who’s Wacky Funtime Playhouse’ were broadcast after this date in relative history. Without your show, tensions have once more built up among our different races. No other program has succeeded in uniting us in mirth and happiness the way yours has—not even the legendary ‘Howdy Doody’ broadcasts that brought about the cease-fire in the Horghal-Iridus War. I decided to use our time-belt to travel back to the date of the final broadcast, over five thousand years ago, and determine for myself what caused the end of ‘Doctor Who’s Wacky Funtime Playhouse’.”

Breaking News Extra!

From the Associated Press:

"Yankees' Wang hit hard by Rangers"

No, seriously.

It actually said that.

'Doctor Who's Wacky Funtime Playhouse', Part One

A little something different, this week...I'm going to recycle old material!

Directly, that is, instead of writing new stuff about my old ideas. This is a short story I wrote for a Doctor Who charity anthology (Doctor Who fans have a history of producing short-story anthologies with the proceeds going to various charities. Obviously, it violates copyright, but the BBC has traditionally looked the other way so long as the money really does go to a worthy cause. Some of them, like the classic 'Perfect Timing', got some fairly well known professional authors to contribute alongside the fan writers.) The anthology in question, 'Atypical History', was supposed to come out in 2003 to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the series. I think it's pretty unlikely that it'll make it in time.

The brief for all writers was as follows: Write an original short story using the name 'Doctor Who' and the concept of time travel that could serve as the springboard for a series of further stories. In short, we were to imagine another way that Doctor Who could have gone back in 1963, using as little of the original as possible. So here was what I did with it...

‘Doctor Who’s Wacky Funtime Playhouse’
by John Seavey

The energy of the crowd felt almost like a physical force as it washed over Dale Townsend, and for a brief moment he forgot everything and just basked in the cheers of adoring children. He couldn’t see them—right now, the spotlight he stood in kept him from seeing any of the audience—but he didn’t need to know what they looked like. All that mattered, for now at least, was their excitement, their applause. They had been infused with the excitement of the mob, each child feeding off the energy of the others and getting more and more enthused, thrilled, and energetic, and now it poured off them in waves as he stood there in his white coat, big shoes, and mint-green surgical outfit waiting for them to finally cool down enough for him to speak. It was a tiny moment. It wasn’t enough. But he’d remember it, he was sure, for the rest of his life.

Finally, the applause died down, and he spoke. “Well, kids,” he said, his voice filled with forced warmth, “the 1000th episode of ‘Doctor Who’s Wacky Funtime Playhouse’ is just about done!” He ended the sentence in an acclamative shout, the same way he ended all of his sentences when speaking in character. It was another thing he wouldn’t miss. “And I’m grateful to all of you for helping make it the best episode ever!” Not true, he thought as the crowd roared again—the 500th episode was much better. He’d gotten a few celebrities to do guest appearances, big stars who’d grown up in the area and had watched the show with fond memories. Nobody cared anymore. The show was still on because it was cheap to produce, mostly old cartoons that didn’t cost much and just one emcee to keep the live audience occupied.

He waved at the crowd, and they quieted down once more. “So thank you all once again, and here’s to a thousand more!” Another roaring crowd, but this time, he heard the beginnings of the theme song playing and knew that he didn’t have long. Quickly, using the same voice projection talents he’d once hoped would take him far in Shakespearean theatre, he uttered his trademark closing line: “And remember, kids, Doctor Who prescribes love, luck, and laughter for the rest of the day!”

The spotlight darkened and Dale Townsend, known for the past twenty years in the major Chicago markets as “Doctor Who”, let himself relax. Another episode, another paycheck, and that was just the way life worked. He didn’t see any reason to get emotional about it anymore.
He headed back towards his dressing room, only to have Tom, his producer, run up next to him and put his arm around him in what was probably meant to be a gesture of good-natured camaraderie. Tom probably had a last name, but Dale never bothered to remember the names of his producers anymore. He just noted whether they were the young kind on their way up, doing the show as a way to build credits for their resumé before moving into bigger and better things, or the kind on their way down, broken-down and weary and scraping the last few dollars out of their career by doing a local kiddie show in Chicago.

“That was great!” Tom said, in much the same tone of voice that Dale used on-camera. Tom was one of the young producers. Frankly, Dale preferred the old ones. They might drink, they might shout at the kids, and they might occasionally lapse into weepy tirades about how they used to direct Gwyneth Paltrow, but at least they had the good grace not to be enthusiastic about a show that forced people to dress up in mock surgical gear and entertain small children. “Really, Dale, I think that was truly super. Your best performance yet. You were…” He acted for a moment as though he was lost for words, which Dale privately suspected wasn’t hard. If you removed the words “great” and “super” from Tom’s vocabulary, he’d probably be mute.

Dale smiled wanly and said, “Thanks,” in a weary voice. He made a feeble effort to get out of his producer’s friendly grasp, but Tom wasn’t having any of it.

“So,” Tom said, “about next week’s show—I see us as leading off with some of the older black-and-white stuff, a sort of retrospective if you will—it’ll be a great way to start building our reputation again as the bleeding edge of children’s television.”

Inwardly, Dale sighed. ‘Doctor Who’s Wacky Funtime Playhouse’ never had a reputation as any kind of edge, except perhaps blunt and dull. It made ‘Mister Rogers Neighborhood’ seem “bleeding edge”, and Mister Rogers had been dead for six months. Speaking of which… “Say, Tom, could we take this up in twenty minutes or so? I’m feeling a bit drained, just want to rest in my dressing room for a bit. You know how it is.”

Tom let go of him, then gave him a solid, bone-jarring last handshake. “Sure thing. I’m sorry, Dale, I should have thought—you must be overwhelmed. One thousand episodes…it’s amazing, it really is. Super, absolutely great. Tell you what—you take a half-hour, then you and I can go out to the bars and celebrate.”

Dale nodded awkwardly, and headed towards his dressing room. Great, he grumbled mentally. Now when they report the news, they’ll talk about how I “seemed happy”, how I was “already planning the next show”.

They probably won’t even read my note.

Contentious Statement of the Day

Now that Captain America and Iron Man have gone, the team currently being featured in 'New Avengers' is not actually the Avengers at all. It's the Defenders. In fact, it's a more authentically 'Defenders-esque' Defenders team than many actual Defenders line-ups over the years. The book's title should be changed to reflect this fact, and the upcoming battle between the 'New' and 'Mighty' Avengers should, in fact, be billed as "The Second Avengers/Defenders War".

Discuss.

Meet N Greet #3

(Ironically, this entry was delayed by a day because I was checking out the new patch for 'City of Heroes'...)

Colonel Meyer Hagen walked into the dimly-lit lab, already mentally biting his nails. Doctor David Flagg wasn't the worst scientist he'd ever had to deal with in his five years as liason with the civilian technical personnel on Alpha Base, but there was just something so irritatingly...childish about the man. No, not childish. Childlike. Flagg just needed to grow up, that was the problem. Put away childish things. He--

"Colonel Hagen! Good to see you down here again!" Flagg enthusiastically slapped the colonel on the back, receiving a tight-lipped smile in return.

"Doctor Flagg. I believe you said you had a breakthrough for me?"

"Oh, better than that. I've got a completed prototype, ready for field-testing." He flipped a switch, and banks of lights illuminated a corner of the laboratory. "Allow me to present the ultimate in human-operated exoskeletal technology...the Human-Occupied Law-enforcement Computer, version 1.0!"

Colonel Hagen looked at the seven-foot tall metal form for a long moment. Finally, he said what had been in his mind since the second the lights went on. "It's...green."

"Yes. Now the breakthrough came when I realized that instead of attempting to integrate a weapons system, you could simply focus on increasing the strength and durability of the HOLC system to levels that make it effective in combat without needing--"

"I'm sorry, the what?"

"HOLC. Human-Occupied Law-enforcement Computer."

"So you want us to test a giant green robot...called the HOLC. Which is super-strong and indestructible."

Doctor Flagg nodded enthusiastically.

"You've got issues, Flagg."

"Every single one since 'Tales to Astonish' #67. Now, I've increased the leg strength, so it should be able to jump great distances. The arm strength allows it to clap its hands to create giant sonic booms..."

Not Actually An Idea

This isn't the "official" post for this week, because:

a) it's probably not funny enough (but when has that stopped me?)

b) it would really require Photoshop to work, and probably toys based on H.P. Lovecraft, and I'm not actually sure if there are any (but of course, there are...there are action figures of everything nowadays...)

c) it requires a lot of explanation to people who don't read 'Toyfare', and I don't feel like doing that

d) it's way out of date, because they call it "Twisted Toyfare Theater" now

e) I don't actually have anything more than the premise

f) someone else has probably already done it, and done it better.

So, with all those caveats, I decided to make it a special early bonus entry. I now present:

Twisted Mi-Go Theater! Wacky hi-jinks ensue, as all your favorite characters from the hellish imagination of H.P. Lovecraft are posed, photographed, and then photoshopped with word balloons involving jokes about poop, sex, and obscure fan-jokes!

I warned you it wasn't good enough to be a real entry...

ConBestiary #6

Intellect Devourer: I don't actually know what this is, but it's whatever causes people to walk up to guests at cons and ask them where the bathrooms are. I mean, come on, people, he's Marv Wolfman! He wrote 'Crisis on Infinite Earths'! He's not the freaking information booth! Peter David does not know where the dealer's room is, and he probably doesn't care, either! Ask a volunteer, not the man who helped create MAD Magazine! Pretty much every guest is way too nice to tell you this, but it really irritates them, and you can tell if you're paying attention.

I'm just saying, is all.

Gotta Disagree

Despite what the old saw says, I actually think "of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are, 'Oh, no! That bus full of puppies just crashed into that maternity ward!'"

...but I suppose that wouldn't scan very well.

Finn's Limit

I was feeling a little torn on what to write about today, because it seemed like an appropriate time to discuss the Tarantino/Lucas Index...but on reading some discussion about the Don Imus controversy, I felt like it was a better time to discuss Finn's Limit.

Finn's Limit, which is named after the amazing and spectacular Finn Clark (who is hopefully honored and not irritated by my naming this after him) is the point at which any message-board discussion between two or more people with fundamentally opposing points of view ceases to be an exchange of information and opinions and transforms into people repeating themselves in an effort to get in the last word. Finn himself set Finn's Limit at about three posts per person; I named it after him because he never bothered posting more than three times on a topic, figuring if he hadn't convinced the other person by then, he never would.

Internet debates beyond Finn's Limit have interesting sets of behaviors you can almost invariably find if you look for them; for example, a post-Finn's Limit tactic is the Judo Last Word, wherein the person posts that this will be their last post on the subject and that the other person can, if they want, have the last word, because they're no longer worthy of attention. Of course, as soon as the other party responds, they become worthy of attention again.

One question that has yet to be settled is whether or not multiple parties grouped into two camps increases or decreases Finn's Limit; it does, however, undeniably increase the length of discussion beyond Finn's Limit. This "zombie thread" effect occurs when a subset of posters on either side continues the discussion beyond the interest levels of the majority of the posters. People drop out of the discussion, frustrated at their inability to convey their point of view; however, since the discussion continues, they can find themselves dropping back in when a particularly interesting or infuriating point comes up. This, in turn, prompts other people to jump back in, and the discussion continues.

Some long-standing discussion topics permanently pass Finn's Limit; that is to say, even if they die down completely, the next time they're brought up, the exchange will begin beyond Finn's Limit and stay there. A partial list of these topics would have to include "UNIT Dating", "Lives Before Hartnell", and "It's Season Twenty-Seven, Not Season One." (If you're not a Doctor Who fan, you might not understand these references. Count your blessings. If you are a Doctor Who fan, please don't fill the comments section with your personal views on these topics. They're past Finn's Limit.)

Finally, I'll point out the useful aspect of Finn's Limit (because this isn't just a snarky post about message-board forums.) I use Finn's Limit myself, in everyday life--when I've posted three times about something, and I see that the same person who's responded to my post the first three times is disagreeing with it again...I just let it go there. Life's too short to keep talking just to get in the last word. It's frustrating for a minute or two...and then I forget about it.

Meet 'N Greet #2

It's, um, still Thursday, right? (Seriously, yes, I know this is late. Had some stuff to deal with that couldn't wait and took up a good chunk of time. But it's not every day one gets a free car.) So, only two days after it was supposed to be up, the origin of another fabulous super-hero/villain!

Karin Colbert was out jogging in Paragon City one bright spring morning when she had the seeming misfortune to turn down the wrong street at the wrong time. As she rounded the corner, she heard the sounds of chanting, and spotted an eerie green light--all of which stopped as she practically bumped into a group of three men in dark robes, their eyes glowing under the hood.

"So," one of them said, "the prophecy is true! Our ritual has, indeed, been interrupted by the legendary Champion of Light!" He raised his sacrificial dagger. "Speak, mighty Champion! Tell us the name of the hero we are slaying this morning!"

"...eep."

"Very well, Eep, prepare to die!"

Karin flung out a hand, attempting to block the dagger...and was stunned when a mass of whirling cinders flew out from it into the face of the cultist. He collapsed, choking, and the other two cultists quickly fled. The would-be victim stood up, and walked over to her.

"Congratulations, Champion," he said. "From this day forth, your karmic destiny is set. You shall battle evil. You shall fight the darkness. You shall be our Champion of Light. You shall be...EEP!"

"But I don't want to!"

"Too bad. Sucks to be you." And he vanished.

And ever since that fateful day, Karin Colbert has accidentally run into evil wherever she has gone, unwillingly fighting it with magical powers that she doesn't know how to use and doesn't want to, as...EEP!

Support Staff of the Magi

A treat for D&D fans, today: I worked this up as part of a book I did for a game company, but the line it was written for crashed and burned, so I've got two sourcebooks on my hard drive. (If anyone wants to publish them, I do own the rights free and clear, and the books are designed to be stand-alone. And they're, y'know, already done.) In any event, this was one of the magical items in the book, designed to be an artifact for a slightly tongue-in-cheek game...

Support Staff of the Magi: One of the strangest, yet most sought-after items in the Gardener, the support staff of the magi resembles its near-namesake physically. However, in terms of its power, it is very different. Once a character capable of using magic items grasps an inert support staff of the magi (“inert” meaning one whose wielder is dead), the five people with spellcasting abilities nearest to him must immediately make a Willpower saving throw with a DC of 20 or be placed under the thrall of the holder of the staff. If any of these five people succeed at their saving throw, the effect continues to radiate outward until it has ensnared five magic-users.

Once the staff has been activated, the holder can command the mages to cast any spell they are capable of casting. Each spell uses up a number of charges in the staff equal to the level of the spell cast. (Hence, a ninth-level spell uses up nine charges.) The holder commands the mage mentally, meaning that they can use the staff even if they cannot speak. They must maintain a hold on the staff, however, in order to cast spells. (If the wielder lets go of the staff, the mages are not freed—they instead enter a default state, remaining motionless until the staff’s wielder picks it back up.) The staff’s wielder cannot command the mages to do anything other than cast spells; however, they will perform any tasks they are capable of that can help the wielder of the staff, so long as it does not endanger them. This function does not use any charges on the staff.

Wielding the support staff of the magi gives characters a spell resistance of 20; they can, however, voluntarily lower the spell resistance of the staff in order to have it absorb spell levels as per a rod of absorption. This is the only way to recharge the staff. If, however, the number of charges exceeds the maximum the staff can hold (50), the enslaved mages go on a retributive strike, awakening from their trance with a compulsion to kill the person who has held them in thrall. Recharging the staff can be risky, since there’s no way of knowing how many charges it already has or how many levels a spell being cast at the holder will be, but since it is the only way to build charges in the staff, it can sometimes be necessary.

If the staff ever runs out of charges, it loses all its abilities save the ability to absorb spell levels. Any mages held under its thrall return to normal, without any memory of their entrancement or any sort of enmity against the wielder of the staff. As soon as the staff absorbs any spell levels, it will enslave new mages as though it had just been grasped.

If someone tries to take a support staff of the magi away from its holder, they must make a Willpower check with a DC of 25 in addition to their Strength check. Success means that they are now considered to be the wielder of the staff, and the original wielder joins the enslaved mages. Failure means that the would-be thief falls under the spell of the staff, and is subject to its effects. (This is the only way that a holder of a support staff of the magi can increase their following—by hostile takeover.)

Nobody knows who created the few support staffs of the magi in existence, but it’s suspected that a wizard with a fondness for very bad puns is responsible.

Caster Level: 20th; Prerequisites: minor artifact, cannot be duplicated; Weight: 5 lbs.

Iron Man Vs. Dracula

I've been saturating my brain with 'Tomb of Dracula' lately (guess what next week's 'Storytelling Engines' entry is going to be about?) and it occurred to me that it'd be a lot of fun to see Dracula's reaction to the SHRA madness currently running its course in the Marvel Universe. Then it occurred to me that no, really, it would be a lot of fun...and my brain sort of worked out how it would go as a one-shot special. Namely:

The series opens at an abandoned mansion in Boston at dusk, with Iron Man descending on boot-jets outside. He is greeted by a servant, who ushers him into the presence of a slightly gaunt, but very much alive Dracula, Prince of Evil, Ruler of Vampires. "Up until recently," Iron Man says, "I was under the impression you were truly dead. Blade blew up the SHIELD helicarrier where your body was stored, but--"

"Blade did not have time to finish the job," Dracula sneers, "and the cemeteries are filled with men who have thought Dracula truly dead. How did you find me here? The eyes of technology cannot see the vampire."

We cut to the view through Iron Man's eyes, as Dracula appears as a silhouette in his viewscreen. "We tracked reports of vampire activity to this vicinity, and our psy-ops division pinpointed this house as a site of paranormal activity. As to how I'm perceiving you now, my armor is mapping disturbances in the air currents and using them to extrapolate your mass. I'm here to inform you that you, Vlad Dracula, also known as Vlad Tepes, Vlad Tepesch, and Vladimir Drake, that you are in violation of the Super-Human Registration Act, which requires all beings of post-human capabilities to register said abilities with the appropriate governmental body and--"

He's cut off by a hard backhand that sends him sprawling. "You dare make demands of Dracula? I, who have stalked the earth at my pleasure for more than five hundred years? I, who have buried all those who came to slay me?" As he talks, he's slapping a surprised Iron Man around. "I am Dracula. You are mere cattle in my eyes, meat for the slaughter. Do not seek to presume upon me."

After a moment of this, Iron Man recovers and starts fighting back. He's more than Dracula's equal in physical strength, but Dracula is fast, has centuries of battle-savvy, and has shape-shifting abilities. Finally, just when Iron Man seems to be gaining the upper hand, Dracula vanishes altogether. He hears the vampire's voice around him, though. "You see where I am through the movement of the air, my modern-day knight. But how shall you see Dracula...when he becomes insubstantial mist?"

Drac seeps in through Iron Man's atmospheric filters, gathering in his mouth and nose, choking him with the stench of death and worse than death. Barely able to breathe, Iron Man smashes his way out of the mansion and flies west at top speed. Blinded, out of control, he nonetheless chases the embers of the fading sun to the point where they are too bright for Dracula's taste, and the Lord of Vampires retreats. Nonetheless, his mocking laughter resounds in Tony Stark's ears...

Cut to the SHIELD helicarrier, where Iron Man is addressing a team of agents--and Blade, who is a registered super-hero and thus a logical guest-star. "This is who we're dealing with," Iron Man says, delivering a potted history of Dracula for the benefit of people who haven't read 'Essential Tomb of Dracula'. "He's no horror movie--this is the real thing, an honest-to-God vampire with everything that comes with it. Both in terms of strengths...and in terms of weaknesses."

We pan out to a long shot of the helicarrier, which is floating over Dracula's mansion. Dracula comes out to look at the commotion, and even the lord of the undead is shocked at the sheer mass of the floating fortress...and more shocked to see dozens of SHIELD agents, Iron Man, and Blade descend from the skies. He moves to run, but the helicarrier projects a spotlight onto him with a cross dead in its center. The holy symbol saps his strength, forces him to stay in his human shape, and as SHIELD agents surround him armed with stake-guns, he spits impotent curses at them all.

"Last chance," Iron Man says. "You can either register, sign up as a deputized SHIELD agent, and work with us to root out and destroy the vampires you've helped create...or I can give you to Blade here, who's really hoping you choose Option B."

"Never!" shouts Dracula. "Never shall I bow and scrape to a mortal who is nothing more to me than a walking feast!" He looks up to the night skies, using one of the lesser-known vampiric powers...the ability to control the weather. A strong gust shifts the helicarrier just a few feet before its pilot compensates, but that few feet is enough to move the spotlight off of him. Shifting his form into a bat, he flies away, dodging stakes and silver bullets.

Later, in a dark cave, he nurses his wounds and rails at the injustice of having to flee the field of battle. But, he swears, he will not flee again! For he is Dracula, and he has prepared many snares and traps for his enemies over the years...some overt, but some most subtle indeed...

Cut to a few nights later, and a young woman walks through the darkened streets of Boston. She hears a noise, and her footsteps quicken. Then quicken more in dread, as she feels a dread presence behind her. She looks around, sees nothing, but her instincts tell her to run ever quicker. Another glance behind her reveals nothing...

And she runs headlong into Dracula, who waits for her with fangs bared. He leans in for the kill, only to be startled when the woman (one Ms. Carol Danvers) gives him a hard right cross that sends him flying. Infuriated, he charges towards her to give battle.

But just then, one--then many--then dozens of crosses expand out of the very air all around him. Dracula recoils, recoils again, realizing in horror that there is no place to recoil to. At bay, he snarls and bares his fangs...

And Iron Man descends on his boot-jets again. "Miniaturized holographic projectors," he says to the helpless lord of vampires. "They can follow you wherever you go, and if need be, I can deploy over a hundred more. There's no escape for you this time."

Just then, a balding man in a suit approaches. "Mister Tony Stark? AKA Iron Man, Director of SHIELD?" Tony pauses, uncertain, then nods. "Mister Stark, I have here an injunction ordering you to cease and desist all harassment of my client, Mister Tepes, and to immediately and forthwith vacate the whereabouts of his person pending a full and complete investigation of your conduct in this circumstance. The Super-Human Registration Act clearly applies to living beings, of terrestrial and non-terrestrial origin, while my client is equally clearly deceased. As a result, he is not subject to SHIELD jurisdiction as either a citizen or a foreign national." The lawyer hands Iron Man a sheaf of papers. "I think you'll find these are in order."

Iron Man looks them over, then looks up at the lawyer...and through his viewscreen, we see him as we saw Dracula, a silhouette of air currents. "You're a vampire too," Tony Stark snarls. "How do I know you didn't hypnotize the judge into granting you this injunction?"

The lawyer sneers. "An interesting argument, which you can save for your appeal. Rest assured, I have enough grounds for counter-suits to keep this tied up in court until your descendants are ancient."

Iron Man's fists clench. "But he's a mass murderer!"

"Not SHIELD's jurisdiction. Your job is to enforce the SHRA...and since that doesn't apply to my client, unless you want to trample over the laws you killed men to enact, I'd suggest you let it drop."

The holographic crosses fade. Dracula straightens up, dusts off his outfit, and smiles. "It pleased me, Anthony Stark, to best you in the field of battle you chose--the field of rules, and laws. Society's battleground. But I will never forget the insult you dealt to me. Do not sleep easy, man of iron. For one night, I shall come calling on thee..." Dracula fades into mist, and is gone. And even in his insulated armor, Iron Man feels the chill of the grave...

Special Guest Bloggers

Katherine Grace Henry and Cordelia Faith Henry, Official Youngest Nieces to Fraggmented!

They don't say much, but if a picture was ever worth a thousand words...

Torso Cut In Half (7)

As you may or may not have noticed, I recently went through the archives of this blog and labeled everything. I've got "crazy ideas", "depressing geek thoughts", "muppets", "zombies", et cetera et cetera et cetera. This is a relatively new technology, but it's proliferating at an alarming rate.

How alarming? When I went to do this entry (it was originally going to be a "bad movie lines" entry, but I couldn't find the quote), I looked on imdb.com for the relevant bad movie line. I didn't find it, but I did find that the movie in question had the plot keywords, among others, "shot in the stomach", "bitten in the throat", "exploding building", and bizarrely enough, "unisex bathroom". Clicking on "bitten in the throat", I find that there are dozens of related keywords, including "brain eating", "kicked in the face", "sister sister relationship", and, of course, "torso cut in half".

And I thought it was hard work coming up with labels for my posts. Who has the job of deciding whether a movie features "throat slitting" or "stabbed in the throat", and how many anti-depressants do they take each day?

Review: 300

Hunh. So that's what it'd be like if 'Fox News' taught Ancient History.

Or, to be less facetious, I understand that Hollywood distorts historical accounts to make for a more interesting story. I did not walk into the film '300' expecting an accurate account of the early days of the war between Greece and Persia, and of the Battle of Thermopylae. But there are distortions and there are distortions, and I did not walk into that movie expecting to see an account whose distortions were systematically performed to make the history conform to a right-wing political agenda.

'300' turns the war into a culture clash between the decadent, liberal Persians (Xerxes looks like he stepped off the float at a Pride march, has a harem of bisexual women, and in one scene stands behind the butch Leonidas, puts his hands on his shoulders, and tells him, "Kneel before me and I will give you everything.") and the moral, upright, tough and conservative Spartans (the historical record of Spartan culture isn't just brushed under the rug, it's nailed under the carpet. Spartans in this film mock and condemn "adulterers" and "boy-lovers", two practices which historians believe were common-place and accepted in Sparta, and they frequently talk about how they're "free men", equating Persia with slavery and slavery with evil. Nobody ever seems to ask who tends the crops in Sparta.) Through the film's imagery, the Persians are equated with deformity, deformity is equated with decadence, and decadence is subtly equated with liberalism.

The contributions of the other city-states of Greece are downplayed into non-existence; in '300', Leonidas is a king who alone among his people has the foresight to spot the need for a war, and when the cowardly and decadent Senate refuses to fund his troops, he's forced to go off alone without the men and equipment he needs, dooming him to failure. (This is, of course, not so much a distortion of history as a cut-and-paste replacement of it with the current conservative view of the present day.) The pre-eminent anti-war Senator turns out to be a traitor in the pay of the Persians, and is stabbed on the floor of the Senate by Laura Bu--errr, Queen Gorgo.

And, of course, we get the conservative refrain that the military culture is "better" than the civilian culture; the volunteer forces that accompany the Spartans are shown as less worthy, less courageous, and ultimately cut and run when the going gets tough--the historical records say differently, but who needs history when you've got an agenda? And, in the end, we're shown how Leonidas' heroism inspired the Spartans to amass a huge army to finally destroy the evil Persians and end the threat they posed to America. (Sparta, sorry. I'm so bad at this.) The fact that Persia is, in essence, modern-day Iran should perhaps worry anyone who wants to read into the symbology of all this. We don't see the final battle, but of course, we know how it has to end...after all, the Persians lost, right?

They did, in fact. In a decisive naval battle. To the Athenian navy. (You know, the "philosophers and boy-lovers" the Spartans made fun of at the beginning.) But apart from that, it fits the right-wing philosophy perfectly.

ConBestiary #5

Grumbling Banshee: As far as cryptozoologists can determine, these creatures are close cousins to the banshee (spectralis amplificus). Unlike the legendary banshee, who predicts death with its loud, discordant shrieks, the grumbling banshee appears at conventions to predict discord, irritability, and lack of sleep. It floats, bodiless, into hotel rooms and lets out a series of low, growling rumbles, letting the inhabitants of the room know that they're in for a difficult night and an irritating morning of arguments about who's a loud snorer.

Cryptozoologists have tried explaining the concept of the "self-fulfilling prophecy" to grumbling banshees, but they apparently don't have the conceptual framework for it.

An Open Letter To Marvel Comics

Dear Marvel,

My name is John Seavey, and for a long time, I've been a customer of your company. Since I was a small child, I've been purchasing Marvel's brand of periodical publications, and I've come to associate the 'Marvel' logo with a certain quality, and more importantly, a certain identity in entertainment. Much as I expect to see light-hearted family entertainment when I watch a Disney film, I've come to expect that when I pick up a Marvel comic, I can be assured of upbeat, family-oriented, fast-paced adventure stories. You've published books in a wide variety of genres, something I admire and respect, but I've always felt that Marvel knew what its strengths were and played to them well. You've almost always done an excellent job in shaping a solid stable of continuing characters, and choosing writers and artists who publish new stories in keeping with the tone and ethos of your publishing history.

Recently, though, you seem to have forgotten what your customers are looking for--a fact that isn't simply dissatisfying, but actively worrying to me as a consumer. Your writers (and more worryingly, your editors) seem to be more interested in indulging their own personal whims than in maintaining a stable of characters and stories that have a long-term publishing future; the recent 'Civil War' storyline is a perfect example, in which both Iron Man and Captain America, two of your flagship characters, were portrayed in a light so unsympathetic that I have difficulty imagining myself wanting to read about them in future. Perhaps this was an interesting individual story, but was it really worth trading on the brand identity Marvel has spent so much time and money to establish?

Your company has worked very hard in associating its trademarks and logos with certain expectations; indeed, in an industry where "hot" writers and artists come and go, these expectations are the only thing of real, permanent value you have. When you sell a comic that I, as a consumer, expect to be "upbeat family enterainment", and when I read it, it's "bleak, depressing adult storytelling", you are essentially using my goodwill as a consumer to line your pockets. This is not to say that I do not read adult stories, or that I have no stomach for thought-provoking tales. But if that is what I wanted, I know where I can find it. I purchased your comic in good faith based on expectations you have worked hard to establish; if you're unwilling to live up to those expectations, you should not be surprised to see your consumer base shrink.

Goodwill is not available in an unlimited supply, nor is its supply predictable. What causes a sales spike now (out of belief in your company's future performance, buying habit, or simple morbid curiosity) will not last indefinitely; I can't predict exactly when or how, but I guarantee you, if you continue to neglect the publishing ethos that made Marvel a success, your company will founder. And, due to its position, it may well take an entire industry with it, a tragedy nobody wants. Marvel should tell the stories it's best at, not the stories that the "writer of the week" is most interested in.

I'm not going to conclude this with a statement like, "I'll never read Marvel again!" I will continue to read the comics that I enjoy, those that live up to my expectations of Marvel comics as a brand and as a company (such as your 'Marvel Adventures' line, or your collections of archived material). But the "Marvel Universe," the flagship line of publications you have worked so hard to nurture over the decades, is traveling in a direction that I have no interest in, and that I do not wish to spend money on...and unfortunately for you, I consider myself to be a reasonable barometer of customer opinion. Perhaps you are telling the stories that you want to tell right now. But at this rate, you might not have anyone left to tell them to.

Post-Civil War Predictions

So, the dust has settled, the smoke has cleared, and the Civil War is over. Captain America is in prison, Iron Man is in charge of SHIELD (and by extension, every super-human in the United States), and Registration is the law of the land! Huzzah...wait a second, doesn't that kind of seem like a depressing ending? And doesn't it kind of mean that the entire seven issues were a complete waste of time? Oh, well. It sold, right?

So now the obvious question is, "What happens next?" Here it is, my absolute infallible predictions on the future of the Marvel Universe post-Civil War.

Within five issues, Captain America will either break out or be broken out of the Negative Zone prison. Probably, he'll be the "new Ronin" they're talking about in the pages of 'New Avengers', since the "take up a temporary identity" gimmick is one they've done before for Cap, and it makes a certain amount of sense; he doesn't want to restart the big war, and Cap's a big, tangible symbol of the Resistance. But he's obviously not going to stay in prison for long, because he's got his own series.

Within two years, it will be revealed that Iron Man is either mind controlled, an impostor, or just plain went insane. It will be further revealed that he orchestrated the explosion at Stamford, CT (by maneuvering either the heroes, the villains, or both into that spot) to create the furor that pushed the SHRA into law, all to consolidate super-heroes under his personal control. There'll be another big crossover, Iron Man will be defeated, and the SHRA will be repealed now that everyone sees how dangerous it is to give so much power to one man.

Within five years, there will be a tremendously unconvincing storyline in which Peter Parker pulls a scam to make everyone think that the revelation of Spider-Man's identity was, in turn, a scam; everyone will believe this new scam hook, line, and sinker, allowing Peter to return to his old job at the Daily Bugle.

Within seven years, if Tony Stark was revealed to have just plain gone insane, it will at this time be revealed that he was either mind controlled or an impostor all along, and the real/normal Tony Stark will come back as Iron Man.

Within ten years, Aunt May will be back from the dead, if she was in fact fatally wounded and not just wounded at the end of the latest issue of Spider-Man.

In other words, my prediction for 'Civil War'? In ten years, it'll be as if none of it ever happened. Because there's either two options here. Either one, this is Act One of a grander story that will end with a return to the status quo, or two, Marvel's editorial staff has just made a colossal mistake that they will spend the next decade burying.

You decide!

The Big Mistake

I've been thinking about the latest generation of console wars lately, ever since Penny Arcade talked about it on Monday. (Penny Arcade is this little webcomic, kinda deals with videogame-related humor. You might have heard of it.) They basically discussed how Sony's Playstation 3 isn't selling well, and how Sony seems to be dealing with the problem by lying about it.

But all that, I think deals with the situation from the perspective Penny Arcade has, which is the "hardcore gamer" perspective--that is to say, the people who think of videogames as one of their primary interests, and who are willing to shell out the vast majority of their free time and discretional income on videogames. To them, the problem is "Sony's lying." This is like finding out Mommy and Daddy lied to you about giving that puppy to a nice farm where it's much happier.

But I, like many others, am a "casual gamer". For me, videogames are an interest, but they don't consume a lot of my free time (no, I will not tell you how much time I spend playing 'City of Heroes'. It's not much, and I can stop anytime I want.) And they certainly don't consume a lot of my free money--I buy perhaps one video game every couple of months, and I'm not likely to buy more than one video game system. To me (and the people like me), the problem is, "Sony's charging WHAT for a video game system? What does it do, clean the house while I'm asleep?"

This is Son'y big mistake. They simply do not understand their own industry very well. To them, the target market is the "hardcore gamer", the person for whom the lure of newer, faster, better technology is in and of itself enough of a lure to get them to spend a near-unlimited amount of money on a new system. They think all they need to do is say, "It's the Playstation 3. It's better than the Playstation 2, and newer. What are you waiting for?"

But the facts argue against this. When you look at the jump from the Super Nintendo to the Playstation, or the Playstation to the Playstation 2, you see an immediate, shocking, dazzling improvement in the quality of the games and the gaming experience. You see something that immediately convinced you, "This is a much better system." That's not out there with the new generation of systems. The PS3 is better than the PS2, the XBox 360 is better than the XBox, the Wii is better than the GameCube, but not eye-poppingly so.

But the price differences are (for two of the above three.) A Playstation 2 is $130 right out of the box. A Playstation 3 is $600. That means that the Playstation 3 has to be almost five times as good as a Playstation 2 in order to justify buying one. And it's clearly not.

Nintendo understands this logic. They've been paying attention to video game history, and know that what's killed systems isn't quality or lack of same, it's price. The 3DO died at seven hundred dollars, the CD-i died at seven hundred dollars, and the Sega Saturn lost out to the Playstation despite only a one-hundred dollar difference in price. Why? Because to the casual gamer, a hundred bucks is a lot of money to spend on a video game system, and...

(Wait for it, this is my point...)

The casual gamer, not the hardcore gamer, determines the success or failure of a system. Nintendo gets this, Sony doesn't, which is why the Wii is punishing the PS3 in sales right now. Because the average person looking to buy a new video game system sees "System A, $600" and "System B, $250", and says, "I think I'll buy the $250 one, thanks. $600 is a lot of money to spend on a video game system." (This also applies in the hand-held realm, where the Sony PSP is $200 and the Nintendo DS is $130. Sure, the PSP is no doubt better...but seventy dollars is a lot of money to the casual gamer.) And while the hardcore gamer spends a lot more of his or her disposable income on videogames, the numbers of casual gamers so overwhelm those of hardcore gamers that it's a better marketing strategy to aim at the casual gamer than the hardcore one. You can make more money by selling a cheap product to every household in America than you can by selling an expensive one to one out of every 100.

Of course, in an ideal world, Sony would be able to use its initial sales to drop prices, and eventually bring the PS3 down to what a casual gamer would pay. But when you start with a $300 handicap, that's going to be very difficult. Most casual gamers wouldn't even pay $300 for a new system, preferring to wait until the price gets closer to the $200 mark (or even less); this means that the Wii treads close to the casual gamer's price point at launch, while the PS3 has to cut their prices to a third of what they're charging now to catch up. (I've not mentioned the XBox 360 much, because the PS3 charges more and therefore makes a better example of the economics involved; but since it's $400, assume it's somewhere between the Wii and the PS3 in terms of its situation. If the history of the console wars is ever written, though, it'll be very important--Microsoft's charge at "hardcore gamers" with the XBox made Sony get into the "hardware wars" instead of "price wars" to begin with.)

Does this mean that Sony is doomed? Probably not. Everyone predicted disaster for them with the PS2 launch, after all, and they weathered that storm fine. (Although note that the PS2 launched at $300.) But they could be unpleasantly surprised at the speed at which the Playstation's dominance in the video-game industry gets overturned; Nintendo lost its hold in a single generation, when the Playstation overthrew the N64, and history could be reversing itself.

Question of the Day

If Green Arrow had named his sidekick "Junkie", would he have become addicted to amphetamines?

Cult Fiction

I seem to be finding myself in a never-ending hall of mirrors when it comes to talking about pop culture; I've now written six columns talking about "storytelling engines", which was at least six more columns than I expected to be, and my discussion of golden ages in pop culture threw up the "archive factor", and while I was talking about that, I wound up coming up with the term "cult fiction." God help me if I come up with some new weird term this time; I already feel like I'm babbling self-indulgently as it is when I talk about this stuff, and this paragraph isn't helping one little bit.

But I do think I'm onto something with this "cult fiction" idea, because I think there is a certain common thread that links movies, TV shows, books, et cetera, beyond just "it's science fiction", or "it's fantasy", or "it's action-adventure." There's a certain ethos to them that seems to attract a certain sort of person; sit a person down who likes science fiction in front of a TV set showing 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail', for example, and odds are it will be exactly the sort of thing they're into, even if they didn't necessarily know it before they watched it. There's a common thread that links 'Firefly', 'Doctor Who', 'Alias', 'Heroes', 'Mr. Show', 'Shaun of the Dead', 'Rumble in the Bronx', 'Casino Royale', Harry Potter, the X-Men, and 'Better Off Dead' in such a way that geeks like me will give them a look, even if they turn out not to like them. But what is it?

Ultimately, I think the only thing they have in common is that they all present the world, in some way, as stranger than real life. This is most overt in science-fiction, which is why I think that it all tends to get lumped in as sci-fi, but even the non-science-fiction series like '24' or 'Alias' show a world which is bigger, more dangerous, more exciting, and more vivid than the one we live in every day. (And sketch comedy shows, almost by definition, explore a "stranger than life" idea to its logical conclusion--like the Lumberjack sketch, for example.) I think this is what we're attracted to, the idea that we live in a super-interesting universe, and that these are looks around the corner to the bits that we don't usually see. Bits where kids can build a working space shuttle out of stuff they send away from on cereal boxes, bits where hidden wizard academies teach the sorcerers of tomorrow; bits, in short, that we can always imagine ourselves just about to stumble into.

"Stranger than life." It's as good a definition for "cult fiction" as anything.

The Archive Factor: Can It Raise The Dead?

(First, a brief hello to anyone who's coming to this from 'Comics Should Be Good'--if you're wondering about the update schedule, new "Storytelling Engines" are on Mondays, and Thursdays are my normal entries, which are not guaranteed to be comics-related, geek-related, or even necessarily worth reading. I've had a tradition of self-deprecation since the first post, and I'm not about to stop now.)

Today's post, though, is geek-related. Specifically, it relates to a post I made a couple of weeks ago, in which I talked about all the ways this is a wonderful time to be alive. (And every fan of 'Yamara' always finishes that with, "Archers, commence firing!") I discussed, in specific, something I called "The Archive Factor", the recent commercial trend of putting out collections of sci-fi/fantasy/action/adventure/...let's just call it, for lack of a better blanket term, "cult fiction" out for release. When I was five, if you wanted to read the complete Lee/Kirby run of Fantastic Four, you had to have more money than God. Nowadays, it'll cost you less than a hundred bucks. The ephemera of pop culture has become an accumulation, almost a museum of cool. (With new exhibits added daily, natch...Penny Arcade Book Three just came out yesterday!)

This has a lot of upsides; for one thing, it means that you can start telling more complex stories because you can work on the assumption that future audiences will be able to look up your backstory. This is a double-edged sword, as I've commented on in the past, but you can see the benefits of being able to do less recapping of previous stories and more storytelling. (Even so, writers shouldn't overlook the need for good exposition.)

The second factor, which edges closer to the heart of this column, is the idea that cult fiction generates cult fiction; people who are into science fiction tend to be predisposed to like new science fiction series, people who are familiar with the basic tenets of a fantasy universe won't feel so put off or confused when they see a new fantasy story, et cetera et cetera. And since all this stuff is available now in archived form, it's easier to get the necessary cultural priming to enjoy cult fiction. (In fact, I think we might have achieved some sort of critical mass in the last two decades, where cult fiction is now the dominant paradigm for fiction. Being a geek is now not just socially acceptable, it's downright cool. You can even chart this on a year-by-year basis by watching "The Simpsons", and keeping track of how casually surreal the series has gotten over the last fifteen years as audiences have become more accepting of it. The societal tipping point, obviously, is when "Lost" became the hot water-cooler show.)

But the third, and most important to my mind, is the way that archiving of cult fiction has changed the commercial strategies of production companies. Because this stuff is no longer ephemeral, it can take all the time it needs to build an audience, and then return as a commercial success once it's got a broader fanbase.

This isn't an entirely new concept, of course; "Star Trek" and "The Twilight Zone" were both series that got cancelled after relatively short initial runs, but which built a strong, broad fanbase through syndication and eventually returned. But the time was, these were exceptions to the rule. That's because other series that might have been able to build similar fanbases weren't able to do so; syndication of a series like 'Firefly', for example, just wasn't an option, because it only had thirteen episodes.

The Archive Factor has changed all that. You can make a movie like 'Slither', and be confident that you'll make your money back even without a big initial return, because it's such a good movie that people will still be watching it two decades from now. (You do own a copy, right?) 'Firefly', 'Family Guy', and 'Futurama' all got (or are getting) new stories after their supposed demise, because studio execs all noticed that these were strong sellers on DVD. Since nothing's ephemeral anymore, good ideas might get buried in the archives, but they won't be thrown in the garbage anymore. Sooner or later, when the time is right, they'll return. No good idea ever dies anymore.

Which means that all I have to do is wait, and I'm getting another 'Hawk and Dove' series.

This Is Funny (Trust Me)

The Minnesota Vikings hired a new wide receivers' coach yesterday, and I'm picturing him meeting with his players on the first day of his new job.

COACH: Alright, guys, starting today, we're going to go back to the basics. I want to work with you on the fundamentals of catching the football, from--

TROY WILLIAMSON: Sorry, coach, but, uh...whatting the football?

COACH: Catching.

TROY: No, sorry, still not getting it.

COACH: Catching? You know, you catch the football when it's thrown to you?

MARCUS TAYLOR (doubtful): I dunno...that's not what the last guy said.

COACH: Of course you catch the football! When your number's called and it's thrown your way, you catch it!

TROY: Pffh. You won't get me to start talking crazy like that. Marcus Robinson started saying stuff like that, and they cut him.

Take my word for it--if you were a fan of the Minnesota Vikings, you'd be laughing hysterically right now.

Unwrapping DC Showcase Presents

(See the clever thing I did in the title, there, using the other meaning of the word "Presents"? That's what we writers call, um...clever, I think. There's probably a technical term for it, too.)

Originally, I didn't think I was going to do a DC equivalent of http://fraggmented.blogspot.com/2006/11/potential-essential-confidential.html in this blog, mainly because I didn't think I knew DC history well enough to make any good suggestions. But on thinking about it, DC's reprint program is so new, it's like shooting fish in a barrel. Even a relative DC novice like me (I started reading DC comics in 1991) can come up with a bunch of good choices for reprinting, because they haven't even gotten around to Wonder Woman yet.

So without further ado...

Honorable Mentions: DC's got a lot, actually, because (again) their list of what's actually out is so small. They could do more war comics (Blackhawk, The Losers, Enemy Ace), more of their classic heroes (Superboy, Wonder Woman, Swamp Thing, Firestorm, Plastic Man, Martian Manhunter), or some of Jack Kirby's contributions (The Demon, New Gods, Kamandi.) There's still horror out there (like The Witching Hour)...heck, I think they even have the rights to Mad Magazine. But for the top fifteen...

15, Sugar and Spike. Yes, there are people looking at me funny, saying, "Why would you want to reprint a kid's humor comic instead of 'Firestorm'? But S&S is well-regarded, it'd probably sell well as a black-and-white reprint, and it's the sort of thing that might not get reprinted anywhere else, because it doesn't have the hardcore nerd appeal.

14. The Outsiders. Or, as it was known for much of its early run, 'Batman and the Outsiders'. It's a concept that's had legs for a while now, it's still being published today (albeit with no Batman, and a completely different team line-up), and there's a lot of 70s nostalgia in there to be tapped.

13. World's Finest. One of those concepts that was always a no-brainer; "Hey, you got your Superman in my Batman!" "No, you got your Batman in my Superman!" Since they've got a Superman line and a Batman line, this one seems to be the natural extension.

12. Sgt. Rock. Easily DC's most famous and recognizable "war comic" character, and yet 'The Unknown Soldier' beat him to the punch. This is the sort of thing you don't want to get worse; better reprint him before things get out of control and 'Girls in Love' has a volume while the Sarge is still stewing in limbo.

11. House of Secrets. If you've got 'House of Mystery', you've got to have 'House of Secrets'. What's Cain without Abel?

10. Warlord. Mike Grell's 70s sword-and-sorcery epic has tons of devoted fans out there, all of whom would no doubt snatch up collections of the comic. Not to mention, I have a strong suspicion that Grell's art would look great in black and white.

9. Supergirl. I have to suspect that plans for this one are already afoot, given that they published the volume of Superman that introduced her, but didn't give us any of her back-up stories. In any event, Supergirl's probably more popular than ever, so this one's a no-brainer.

8. The Question. If they're going to make this one relevant, they'd better hurry--it doesn't look like he's got long left. (That's a '52' reference for those of you not stopping at comics stores; the character has terminal cancer.) The reprints could probably cover the entire Ditko era before the first volume finished, then go on to the Denny O'Neil stuff that's probably got a bigger following.

7. Suicide Squad. Technically, there's not enough material of the "classic" Silver Age Suicide Squad to fill a volume, but that's alright, because what everyone's really jonesing for is the 80s John Ostrander Suicide Squad, the one with all sorts of B-list DC villains and death around every corner. It made Captain Cold seem bad-ass, so it has to be impressive.

6. Hawk and Dove. Again, there's not enough actual Silver Age Hawk and Dove material to fill a volume, but spice it up with some of their key Titans appearances, and then the uber-classic early 90s series by Karl and Barbara Kesel, and you've got a slice of good comics. (I don't know how to make an umlaut in this format, by the way, so just draw two little dots on your screen with Magic Marker over the "u" in "uber".)

5. Doom Patrol. In the Marvel list, things got closer to the present as they got higher up, because I wanted the comics I remembered as a kid; here, they get older, because I want to see the roots of DC's Silver Age. The Doom Patrol is best remembered now for Grant Morrison's weird 80s run, but I think that the 60s version has a lot of potential for reprints.

4. The Metal Men. Another one that's actually pretty topical at the moment, since their creator, Will Magnus, is popping up now and again in '52' (he doesn't have terminal cancer. He's manic-depressive. Gosh, isn't DC fun for kids nowadays?) Fun book, cool robots, it's a snap.

3. Adam Strange. Another '52' alum (both eyes gouged out--no, I'm not kidding), Adam Strange is practically synonymous with the Silver Age. He's a space hero with a jetpack, a laser gun, and he's even got a fin on his head! How he hasn't been reprinted yet is beyond me.

2. The Atom. Another Silver Age icon whose absence is surprising, this would be another topical pick, since there's a new 'Atom' series out there (he's not in '52', though, and is probably breathing a heartfelt sigh of relief.) It'd be good synergy to reprint this one, since the current 'Atom' series deals with Ray Palmer's successor, and kind of assumes you know something about the Silver Age Atom (like, for example, the fact that his real name is Ray Palmer.)

1. The Flash. The absence of a 'Showcase Presents The Flash' is absolutely bizarre to me. Comics historians actually date the beginning of the Silver Age from the first appearance of the Flash, in 'DC Showcase'. He's the definitive Silver Age hero. To have a 'Showcase Presents' line without the Flash is like Marvel's Essentials line not having gotten around to putting out a Spider-Man book yet.

So, there's the list for DC to match Marvel...again, licenced titles were excluded, which is a real shame. Because who wouldn't, if they had the option, want to pick up 'DC Showcase Presents: Jerry Lewis'?

ConBestiary #4

Cosplay Succubus: This offshoot of the succubus family feeds solely on the attention of men; thus, the convention environment, with its wildly skewed male-to-female ratio, provides a perfect feeding ground. By dressing up in skimpy, geek-culture themed costumes, the cosplay succubus ensures that simply walking down a hallway draws crowds of socially awkward males to them. The cosplay succubus is essentially harmless, although some men have been known to injure their brains wondering if the girl dressed as Witchblade is single. If you need to escape from a cosplay succubus for any reason, get someone to ask to take their picture--cosplay succubi are absolutely unable to resist the lure of a photo opportunity, and will freeze in position for hours if they believe that someone is taking a picture of them.

A much rarer and deadlier creature is the cosplay medusa, and unfortunately, the only way to tell them apart is by visual inspection--by which point it's too late. These sad, deluded creatures believe themselves to be a cosplay succubus, but insist on dressing in a ludicrously unflattering costume. The cosplay medusa will not turn you to stone, but after seeing a 40-year-old man dressed like Sailor Moon, you may very well wish it had.

The Golden Age?

So let's see...Doctor Who is moving towards its third season after smashing its competition in the ratings, Joss Whedon is writing a new Buffy comic that picks up where Season Seven left off, 'The Invasion' is finally coming out on DVD with animated versions of the missing episodes, and this summer sees the third installment in the Sam Raimi-directed 'Spider-Man' series and a live-action 'Transformers' movie. As some point, the question has to be asked: Is this the best time to be a geek ever?

The gut instinct says, "Yes!" Doctor Who Christmas specials alone seem to demand it. But hold, I say to myself. It is far too easy, as a geek, to fall in love with the new and shiny and neglect the memories of yesteryear. Let's look at some of the other candidates, first.

The 1960s: Doctor Who first starts, Star Trek makes its appearance, lots of big-name sci-fi writers are doing the work that will make them legends, and oh yes, Stan Lee and Jack Kirby are working on some comics for that company that keeps switching names. "Marvel" sounds better than "Timely" or "Atlas", though... It's a pioneering time, and very impressive, but much of the work is more pioneering than great in its own right.

The 1970s: Two words: Star Wars. It's a point at which a quantum leap occurs in special effects technology, changing audience expectations of what science-fiction is capable of and raising the standards for all subsequent geek TV and movies.

The 1980s: Comic books are now available in special shops instead of having to grab what you can on newsstands, and home video means you can actually see old Star Trek episodes without having to just tune in while they're showing repeats and hope it's not one you've seen a thousand times before. 'Crisis on Infinite Earths' finally blew the lid off of stodgy old DC, and movies like 'Terminator', 'Aliens', and the Indiana Jones series keep raising the bar for "cool".

The 1990s: A strong candidate for 'Golden Age' status. Sci-fi TV finally explodes, with Babylon 5, Highlander, X-Files, two Star Trek series at once (NextGen and DS9--one of the best things about the mid-1990s was that Voyager hadn't happened yet), Xena, Hercules, and even some cult gems like Forever Knight all jostling each other on the airwaves. The Simpsons were in their prime, Neil Gaiman was doing Sandman, Bone was coming out, and the Internet was just starting to flex its muscles. Doctor Who was producing the New Adventures, the finest TV-tie-in line ever written, and we even got a TV movie and the hope of a new series someday. Hong Kong action movies started to hit it big in the States, which meant that the bar for "cool action sequences" was about to be notched up to a height only Jackie Chan could leap over. Oh, and the Playstation came out.

So, what is it about now that manages to trump that stellar line-up? It can't just be seeing K-9 come back (maybe that it was in the same episode where Anthony Stewart Head played a villain...nah, still not enough.) Ultimately, what makes now better than any of the thens mentioned above, and what makes this truly the Golden Age of the Geek, is what I call:

The Archive Factor.

Because let's face it, that's the big difference between now and any previous time. We've finally made our voices heard, and archives of all the classic geekery has been made available to us. Monty Python, Highlander, Star Wars, Star Trek, the Avengers, the other Avengers, Spider-Man, the Hulk, Looney Tunes, Doctor Who, Rocky Horror, Shaun of the Dead, all three X-Men movies, the non-Special Editions, every era of Transformers, the Muppet Movie, the best years of the Simpsons...it's all available to you, as close as a DVD or a trade paperback. The newest video game system, the Wii, has in addition to its own line-up of games, a feature that allows you to download classic video games and play them all over again. What was once ephemeral, something to catch once or miss forever, is now archived to enthrall future generations of geeks in addition to their own, newer, equally exciting stories. Geek culture now welcomes casual viewers, because the world has finally caught up to the rest of us. Is this the best time ever to be a geek?

No. Because in ten years' time, it'll be even better.

The Worst Joke I Have Ever Told

MAN #1: Hey, you got your peanut butter on my monkey!

MAN #2: Hey, you got your monkey in my peanut butter!

BOTH: Hmmm...

ANNOUNCER: Try Rhesus Peanut Butter Cups.

Just Look At The Title

Everyone discusses how George Lucas' recently-completed Star Wars prequels are a commentary on George W. Bush's Presidency. (Well, for a given value of "everyone" and "recently-completed", that is. And "discusses", come to think of it.) Palpatine manufactures a war, then uses it as an excuse to claim dictatorial powers, et cetera, et cetera.

But recently, it struck me that 'Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade' is a far more incisive, and indeed prescient commentary on Dubya's two terms. Jones, the protagonist who serves as an analogy to George W. Bush, is a man who has a somewhat shaky reputation in his chosen field, and who lives in the shadow of his famous, emotionally distant father (who named his son after himself.) Encouraged by a group of major figures in the field who are closer in age to his father (many characters in the film, including Brody and the Grail Knight at the end, serve as metaphors for Bush Senior's contemporaries in government), he embarks on a quest for the legendary Holy Grail that eluded his father his entire career (in this case, peace in the Middle East and a stable, democratic Iraq.)

Indy/Bush goes to Europe, and romances the same beautiful, bewitching, treacherous siren that seduced his father (presumably, this is a metaphor for the Presidency and the American people, unless we someday discover something about Barbara Bush that I, personally, never ever ever ever want to know.) He is both helped and hindered in his quest for the Grail by various Middle Eastern powers, and finally winds up leading his forces to the heart of the desert land himself. After a series of battles in which he vanquishes a military power, he finds himself involved in a series of more complex tests. Eventually, he finds the Grail, reconciles himself with his father, and seems poised for victory...

But he winds up screwing up, lets the beautiful woman and the Holy Grail plummet into a bottomless, murky pit for all eternity, needs to be rescued by his dad, and winds up devastating the entire region while an old guy glares at him disapprovingly. Then, seemingly oblivious to his total failure, he rides off into the sunset like he's accomplished the mission he set for himself.

It's downright eerie.

I Wish It Was Real

(Int. Hospital Room. A PATIENT is lying on the bed, very near to death, attended by a DOCTOR.)

DOCTOR: I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid...there's nothing more we can do. What religion are you?

PATIENT: I'm...a strict Calvinist, sir.

DOCTOR: I'll send the priest in immediately.

(The DOCTOR leaves. After a moment, a PRIEST enters.)

PRIEST: It is time, my son. Have you led a virtuous life?

PATIENT: Yes, Father.

PRIEST: Have you fought the temptations of evil?

PATIENT: Yes, Father.

PRIEST: Have you touched all seventeen bases while holding the Calvinball and hopping on one foot?

PATIENT: Seventeen? There were only sixteen bases!

PRIEST: You forgot about the super-secret base, then? Oh, dear. I'm afraid that means you're going to be damned to Hell for all eternity.

PATIENT: But you forgot to sing all the verses of the Tiger song, so that means that today is Opposite Day! Which means I'm really going to Heaven!

PRIEST (relieved): Then go, my child.

(The PATIENT closes his eyes, and expires. After a moment, his spirit rises ethereally from his body, moving up through the ceiling of the room to where an anthropomorphic TIGER is waiting next to a cardboard box turned on its side. Through the cardboard box, a light can be seen.)

TIGER: Step into the light, my child, for it is the transcendent and ethereal passage to Heaven and all the wonders within.

PATIENT: But I thought that this was the Celestial Chariot, in which the Great Prophets traveled to Earth to deliver their tidings of hope and joy?

TIGER: That was when it was right side up. Now it's on its side.

PATIENT: Oh.

(He passes through the arch. For a moment, he hesitates...but the TIGER pounces on him, sending him tumbling through.)

ANNOUNCER: Won't you consider the Church of Calvin? We believe in virtue, hope, truth, and not eating gross stuff at dinner.

The Church of Calvin: Now allowing girls!*

*Except for Susie Jenkins.

Entertainment News #1

CONFUSED 'DOCTOR WHO' FANS CONTINUE TO DEBUNK RUMOURS OF NEW SERIES

The Internet was rocked today by yet another series of articles appearing at a variety of 'Doctor Who' fansites attempting to debunk the "spurious rumours" of a new television series of 'Doctor Who'. The series, which originally ran from 1963 to 1989, generated hundreds of hoaxes, imitations, fan productions, and ill-fated attempts to revive the series during its fifteen years off the air, a saga which has apparently left some fans so jumpy they continue to write off the existence of the new series as "wishful thinking".

Bryce Harlington, President of the "Campaign For House Calls", says he is "saddened" by the rumours. "As a savvy fan, I've learned to disbelieve the more outrageous claims I've heard about Doctor Who's return to our screen. Claims of big movie stars like John Cleese or Christopher Eccleston attaching their names to the project are clear signs of either a 'whoax' or a delusional fan who just misses the series too much to give it up. And of course, the companion rumours are always about the latest piece of eye candy. Every single one of the Spice Girls, for example, had their turn at the rumour mill, just because they were good-looking young pop stars. I hardly think that a producer would leap at that chance."

When confronted with numerous pieces of evidence of the existence of the new series, Harlington became defensive. "A 'Radio Times' cover for the final episode of series two? Oh, yes, and I see they're claiming it's just as exciting as the World Cup match. And the description of the plot? Purest fan-fiction of the lowest grade."

And yet, Harlington remains optimistic. "I do think that the BBC will someday see the deep and abiding affection that fans retain for the series, even now. They have to, because it won't go away. Why, just the other day, I found some bootleg fan productions online. They look just as good as some professional TV science-fiction series out there, and they're all done by Doctor Who fans with credits in the industry--Russell T Davies, Mark Gatiss, even Steven Moffat took some time out from his professional TV work to do a couple of episodes, and they're every bit as good as anything Big Finish ever made."

When it was pointed out that Moffat won a Hugo Award for his work on the new series, Harlington responded, "Oh, sure. And I suppose it swept the National Television Awards two years running."

All You Need To Know About Civil War

Marvel's latest crossover, 'Civil War', is supposed to be a big fight between Marvel's super-heroes over the idea of deputizing themselves as government agents; a fight where there is no "right" or "wrong", but where both sides have legitimate points to make. It's kind of failing miserably at that, because so many different writers are handling the same characters that it's hard to maintain a consistent tone--one second, Iron Man's a cheerful fascist who's setting up a police state, and the next, he's agonizing over his fights against his friends in the name of justice.

The schizophrenic nature of the crossover can be summed up in a single scene: At the end of an issue of Amazing Spider-Man, Spidey, who's been pro-reg, changes his mind and prepares to leave. Tony Stark, as Iron Man, comes crashing through the wall, body-tackling Spidey and saying, "I thought you knew what side you were on."

The scene is continued in Civil War #5, where Iron Man faces off against Spider-Man and says, "Peter, why are you acting like such a lunatic? All I want to do is talk!"

I really wanted Peter's response to be, "Door's over there, Tony."

ConBestiary #3

Gibbering Mouther: These pathetic, yet savagely dangerous creatures stalk conventions looking for unsuspecting victims they can attach themselves to. Anyone who pays them attention rapidly becomes their prey, as they latch onto the poor soul and begin an endless, one-sided conversation about the Mouther's personal geek-related obsession (which can be anything from his brilliant Magic deck to his theories on what the writers of Lost are really thinking to the super-cool character he made for Dungeons and Dragons that only bends the rules a little but is sooo bad-ass.) Once a Gibbering Mouther attaches itself to a fan, it can take hours to successfully extricate oneself--if indeed you can. Convention staff find upwards of twenty dead bodies every year after every con, gruesome victims of Gibbering Mouthers with gaping holes in the back of their heads where the poor fool's brain force-evolved teeth and chewed its way out through its own skull to escape the conversation.

But the worst thing about Gibbering Mouthers isn't the horrible, debilitating effect they have on their prey. The worst thing is that due to the symptoms--total obliviousness to one's own dullness, a tendency to assume everyone is interested in everything you have to say, and a blanket assumption that failure to shout, "SHUT UP!" at you and run away means that you should continue talking--you may already be a Gibbering Mouther and not even know it.

Potential Essential Confidential

(Been waiting two weeks to use that title...)

For those of you who don't know, the "Essentials" series from Marvel are trade paperbacks that reprint their classic comics; they print them in black-and-white, on cheap paper, in order to reduce costs, which means that you get about twenty-five issues of story for the price that an eight-issue collection would cost in color on glossy paper. They're great ways to get big, hefty chunks of reading material for a relatively low cost (in fact, some of the Wolverine and X-Men collections might actually be less than cover price, on a per issue basis.)

Marvel's been putting the Essentials out for a while now, and they've got a very nice library of titles built up (the DC counterpart, "Showcase Presents", is much newer and has only a relative few), but there's still room for more. So, without further ado, I present...the Top Fifteen Comic Book Series That Should Get "Essentials" Trade Paperbacks*!

Honorable Mentions: Captain Marvel (a character that will probably get an Essential someday, but one who's more famous dead than alive); Solo Avengers/Avengers Spotlight (a title I enjoyed as a kid, but I still have enough of the issues that I'm in no hurry to see it collected); Cloak and Dagger (interesting, but did they ever live up to their potential?); Nick Fury, Agent of SHIELD (I'm sure this is much higher on somebody's list); Web of Spider-Man (will probably get one no matter what I say); Shogun Warriors (it sounds like fun in the "Godzilla" mode, but I'm not sure what the licensing status is. See the footnote at the bottom of the list.)

15. Dazzler. Sure, it was a silly series. Sure, she started out as "The Disco Dazzler." Sure, Marvel worked overtime to make her seem like a major player by bringing in guest stars from Doctor Doom to Galactus. But let's face it...all that just makes you want to read it more, doesn't it?

14. Champions. Another series that is sort of "famous for being famous", this was the LA super-hero team that featured Hercules, Ghost Rider, Angel, and a few other super-heroes...basically, whoever was in LA and not doing much at the time. They always had a rep as "bargain-basement heroes", but I'd be interested in seeing exactly what got them that rep.

13. Shang-Chi, Master of Kung-Fu. This probably deserves to be much higher on the list, to be honest, because he's a bad-ass martial artist who fights his father, Fu Manchu, using kung-fu. And that sentence alone makes him crazy-cool. But I'm an 80s kid, so I don't have the kind of personal nostalgia for the title that would push him higher. (In fact, I remember reading an ad for his comic when I was four, and not realizing that "Kung-Fu" wasn't a person. I just figured "Kung-Fu" was a guy, and "Shang-Chi" was another guy who could beat him up.)

12. Ms. Marvel. She's really more well-known to me from her time in Kurt Busiek's Avengers and her role as Binary in Claremont's X-Men, but I would like to read her classic stories to see what all the fuss was about.

11. Micronauts. This might fall victim to licensing issues, but I suspect not, and this is a series that I know has a huge cult following. They could also use it as an opportunity to collect the "X-Men Vs. the Micronauts" limited series, which would just plain rock. But again, I never got much of a chance to read it myself.

10. Adam Warlock. I never got the chance to read the classic Adam Warlock stories from the 70s, either, but I remember reading recaps of them in "Marvel Age" and the Marvel Universe Handbook, and thinking that they sounded like the coolest, trippiest thing ever. Adam Warlock fights Thanos, the man in love with Death, and the evil empire established by the Magus, his own future self? Whoa. A lot of the mythos established here would come back to the forefront years later, and it'd be nice to make it all available.

9. New Warriors. Ah, now that we're into the top ten, you can start to see where my love really lies, can't you? The New Warriors practically defined late 80s/early 90s comics, and it'd be great to see it all put down in big thick chunks of black-and-white goodness. It had some great artwork, Fabian Nicieza doing fun soap-opera writing as a labor of love, and it brought back Nova, Speedball, and Firestar. Where's the bad?

8. Power Pack. To be honest, I wish this could be much higher. From a strictly commercial stand-point, it probably should be; this was a series that had great kid appeal. Four pre-teens with super-powers, guest stars galore, the X-Men, the FF, sleep-overs with Franklin Richards, and power swaps every twenty-five issues. Power Pack just plain rocked.

7. West Coast Avengers. Hawkeye led the team. Nuff said.

6. Alpha Flight. Another one of those titles like New Warriors that had a big, crazy soap-opera epic feel to it that would work much better in large chunks than single-issue stories, this would be excellent for collection. And John Byrne's art looks beautiful in black and white.

5. ROM. Every comics fan above the age of thirty is nodding right now. Not as they read this, as I type this--just my thought of "The Essential ROM" is causing their brains to vibrate with sympathetic resonance as they remember how freaking cool ROM was. A lone alien warrior, fighting a war against the evil shapeshifting body-stealing Dire Wraiths (a war that spilled out into the whole Marvel Universe towards the end--almost a crossover without the hype)...oh, it was the best. Actually the fifth best, but still very cool.

4. Quasar. I remember that I absolutely was not collecting Quasar as a teenager. Really, I wasn't. Oh, sure, I'd pick up an issue or two...or four...or seven...but really, I wasn't collecting it. I didn't have the time to add another title to my list. I just was buying it. A lot. And with a new Quasar series on the horizon, it'd be nice to not collect it again, in trade paperback format this time.

3. New Mutants. Actually, how is it that this hasn't already been collected as an Essentials series? They've got two X-Men Essentials (one for the Lee/Kirby era, one for the Claremont fans who weren't willing to wait three volumes to get to the good stuff), X-Factor, Wolverine...where's the New Mutants in all this? MIA, that's where, and it has to stop!

2. Excalibur. Everything from #2 applies here, but with added exclamation points at the end of every sentence, because Excalibur was just that much better.

1. Guardians of the Galaxy. At this point, mad props must go out to Jim Valentino, who took these characters that I'd just heard about and that I thought sounded cool, and made them into the best thing ever. In the 30th century, the alien Badoon have enslaved humanity, and a band of rebels from across the solar system must band together to stop them! And then, once they stop them, they become wandering adventurers, traveling through time and space to learn about what became of Earth's legendary super-heroes! And then...well, then they got cancelled, and have been in comics limbo ever since, which was a shame. But there's plenty of great material for several Essentials in there, and it might just lead to a revival. (Plus, we'd get to see more of Nikki, team hottie. Damn. Girl was so hot, her head was on fire!)

So there you go, Marvel. Get cracking. Oh, and keep putting out more of the ones you're doing already, too. And get Karl Kesel to write Fantastic Four. Seriously, he'd be great at it!

*This excludes comics that Marvel is precluded from collecting due to the lapse in licensing agreements with the companies who owned the properties in question; so, for example, the Essential Transformers, Star Wars, and GI Joe are all off the list because Marvel can't do them. The Essential Conan already got scuttled--if you see a copy, snap it up because it's out of print.