Legion of Silly Dinosaurs: Giant patchisaurs!!!

 

So it's the last night of the year, and I've gone two months without a blog post, and you might think I would just bow out, but I decided it wasn't too late for a dino blog. It just happens I have something very special I've been sitting on, two specimens of the patchisaurs that started this whole thing. To dive right in, here's possibly the first patchi whose origin is entirely accounted for!

So, for the backstory, I have been seeing unusually large patchisaurs for quite a while now, and finally decided to sample a few. This particular guy came in a pair with a smallish generic rubber dragon creature pictured above, clearly an extra-large version of a patchi with whiskers or mandibles believed to have inspired the Dungeons And Dragons Umberhulk. This is a true hulk indeed, well over 4 inches tall. Soon after I got it, I ran down a lead at a blog called Fantasy Toy Soldiers which confirmed that the small price I paid was almost certainly too much. As it turns out, this was made for a playset laughably called Medieval Times from a company with the only slightly less questionable name Awesome Kids, from what I can tell sometime after 2000. Complete sets, which I found for under $30, contain 4 of these. So where did they come from? Did someone simply copy and enlarge the patchisaur? Did they find original molds to work from? Or did someone actually unearth a vintage patchisaur that even the people who actually had the owlbear had forgotten about? As usual, the chances of an answer are less than zero, but at least, for once, we have a name and a date that is within a decade. Now, behold the glory of the hulk, newish and old!

"I once ate a bus that was this big..."

And here is the other, a big version of one I've come to call Flattop, as it turns out not so flat. This is also featured on the linked blog, though that dedicated thing-finder knew no better than I where it came from or who made it. One marginally useful clue is that it bears a script of Hong Kong, which means it must have been made before China took the island back. The further patina and overall look seem about right for the 1970s or '80s at the latest, so it just might be from the people who made the originals. If it wasn't, there's enough additional detail to suggest a source better than the usual 1980s/ '90s copies. He's a modest size, probably 3 1/2 inches, but pretty bulky. Here's pics of the big guy and the original.

Ask not what they were smoking. Ask what they were NOT smoking.

So, how many more of these are there? I saw a specimen for sale of the semi-sane rhino-lizard, featured on the blog, made maybe twice or maybe only half again the size of the one I have. There are also pics of the Rust Monster in two sizes, though as far as I can tell the one I have from back when is in fact one of the "big" ones. I could also swear that a while ago I saw the chupacabra-creature in a spectacular size, but I don't seem to have saved any pics to prove it. I have confirmed and been amazed to see old versions of that malign little beast with a full array of spines on his back. They look more solid, but they do not appear substantially larger as such. I will probably get one sooner or later, and I just might find a large version again. In the meantime, let's wind this up with a pic with Sidekick Carl. I said that guy is big!

So that's it for another year. It's been good to take a break, but I'm definitely not ready to call it quits yet. As always, it's the dinos that keep me coming back, and at this rate, I'll be seeing the patchisaurs waiting for me at The Furthest Shore. And heck, here's another of the dragon creature!

That's all for now, more to come!

Fiction: The Adventures of Princess Sarah, Part 2!

Filling out another week while it's still the weekend, didn't have anything better to work with than a second chapter of the adventure of Princess Sarah, the spin-off to my retro gaming parody novel (which I just dumped on a free platform I probably should have been using all along). This has what's already my best gag, and as a bonus, I worked in the original owlbears!

Sarah’s first sensation was falling. The next was landing on her face. She skinned her knees in gravel, and one of her teeth came out against the rock. She started to cry, before she remembered she was a big girl now. She raised her head, and found Prince Robert looking down at her, his frog pack on his back and his beloved toy Frog Frog in hand.

“Sarah fall down,” he said. “Sarah ow ow?”

“Oh,” said a distant, murmuring voice, “look at them!”

“Oh, don’t talk like a baby,” Sarah said. She scrambled to her feet, briefly looking left and right. There was another murmur, as if one voice pressed another to be silent. They were in what was clearly a streambed, empty but still damp. Her River Cow bag had landed in a murky puddle beside her. She snatched it up and absentmindedly used her skirt to wipe it off. “Oh, poor Missus Cow… I mean, I hope it’s not wet.” She reached into an outer pouch and pulled out a jar of salve. Robert helped rub it on her knees.

“Ooh,” came the distant voice. “Look, the little one’s helping the big one!” The other voice rumbled louder than before.

“Well,” Sarah said, “we must have opened a magic door. Father said that was how he met Mother.” She smiled at Robert. “It will be an adventure, just like in the Guidebook! Ooh! I hope it didn’t get wet!”

She pulled out the book, and sighed in relief to find it dry. Indeed, she could feel no dampness at all on the inside of the bag. That was because it was, in fact, lined with real Water Cow hide, something Mother and Father had so far neglected to explain. She half-spoke the table of contents: Cartography, Topography, Geology, Botany, Zoology, Ethnography, Diplomacy, Polity. She flipped to the second chapter, then the third.

“`In your surroundings, you can see the past, present and future,`” she read. “`If there is a clamshell in desert sand, then it must once have been an ocean. If there is a tree or the cornerstone of a house still rooted in a riverbank, it must once have been dry ground. If there are stones that look round and smooth, then they must have been worn down by slow and gentle currents water or other elements. If there is gravel and large stones with sharp edges, then stronger forces may be in effect…’”

She looked up and down the channel. There were indeed a number of angular rocks. Then, half-buried in the gravel, there was the keel of a capsized boat. “Oh, dear,” she said. “`…If you see evidence of floods or falls of rock, vacate to higher ground as quickly as possible.’”

“Frog,” Robert said. He pointed to a purple toad with oddly long legs. It was struggling to climb up the steep edge of the bank, without appreciable success.

They quickly scrambled up the streambed. “Aren’t they adorable?” said the distant voice. “I just want to hold them! Those packs! Aww, look at the little boots! Really, can’t we help them?”

“Now, now,” came the lower voice. “We can’t interfere. Besides, if they have our smell, their parents may not take them back…”

 

They reached a hilltop where a tree grew from an outcropping. Sarah declared they would have lunch. She poured them each a glass out of Dink. She took out a safety knife and cut up the roll. She tried spreading the pomegranate jelly on a small piece, but she spat it out as soon as she tasted it with the hard and sour bread. Instead, she cut up the cheese and half of the sausage and served them on the bread. “`A lady in the wilderness should encourage the gentlemen with food prepared well and served with aesthetics and good cheer,’” she recited from memory. She offered the stacked slices to Robert.

“Frog,” he said. He opened Frog Frog, and the purple toad hopped out.

“Robert, Mummy and Mother told you, you can’t take anything real for your collection,” Sara said. The Prince offered a crumb of the bread to the creature, which showed no interest.

“Help frog,” he said. He tried again with a sliver of sausage, which the toad swallowed.

“Oh, he is kind!” cooed the voice. “And so brave!”

As the Princess and Prince ate, the sky grew overcast. Before they had finished, it began to rain. Robert opened the umbrella to deflect what the branches of the tree did not. The toad hopped about on the dry ground, which it evidently preferred to the rain. Sarah flipped open Dink’s top and leaned out, collecting a smattering of rainwater. When she looked downhill, she saw that the streambed was already half full. She again took out the Guide, and opened it to the fourth part.

“`To travel and survive in an unfamiliar land, the first priority must be to identify and harvest edible plants,’” she read. “`There is no better preparation than learning the flora of the known realms, yet this is but the first step. It is essential above all not to let familiar appearances lead to false conclusions. Even the most learned and experienced have perished because they took a deadly plant for an edible one, or disregarded a source of valuable nutrition because it resembled a noxious weed…’”

She flipped through a series of illustrations that filled a good part of the guide, pausing occasionally to consider the plants around them. None of them looked familiar or welcoming in the first place, and several that had looked at least vaguely similar to ones in the book proved to be among the strangest of them all. She reached out and pulled down one of the very branches overhead. The leaves, on examination, were strings of separate fronds. What looked like a single flower was similarly a cluster of tiny blossoms. She examined one of number of white globes that she had taken for fruit. Its surface proved papery and translucent. She found that it had no stem, but bulged directly from the branch. At a gentle poke, it split, revealing a pallid worm that hissed at her. She squealed and let go of the branch. As it snapped upward, the grub went flying.

“Let’s go,” Sarah said as soon as the rain cleared. “We need to find a safe place.” Robert shrugged and shouldered his pack. The long-legged toad clung to one strap. His sister read as they walked from an earlier chapter. “`When possible, follow waterways. They will lead to centers of agriculture, population and even government…’” When they reached the streambed, now full of coursing, muddy water, she turned upstream.

“Oh, no,” said the distant voice. “We can’t let them go that way…”

“Now, dear,” rumbled the answering voice, already grudgingly, “it’s going to be a bother…”

 

Sarah tramped along the bank, Robert following behind her. Something almost but not quite like reeds grew along the edges, sometimes well back and sometimes so far forward they had to push through it. Ahead was a stand of trees like the one they had sat under. She read aloud from the fifth part of the Explorer’s Guide, on zoology. “`The next and most vital step in understanding an unknown land is to catalog its animal life,’” she said. “`Consider the size, shape and habits of each creature. Does it consume plants, meat or a combination of both? Is it alone, or does it gather and travel in groups? Are its colors and mode of life a match for its surroundings, or could it be a traveler from elsewhere like yourself?” As she spoke, she took a closer look at the strange toad. They were mere Cubits from the edge of the trees when the creature stepped into their path.

It was three Cubits high and utterly massive. It had scales on its belly and limbs, and long, fibrous quills on its back. It seemed to have no neck, only a massive head that protruded from between its hunchbacked shoulders. Its face was dominated by a long, stout beak, a helmet-like carapace and two red eyes.

“Please,” she said, carefully enunciating, “you must go back. I will show you…”

Sarah froze and stared. Robert huddled behind her. The squawking cries hurt her ears. It was like the roar of one of the engines Father’s craftsmen wouldn’t stop tinkering with, drawing out every note with prolonged reverberations. But what she found most disconcerting was that its cries sounded almost like words. She hastily consulted the Guide.

“`If intelligence is unknown, treat a creature as you would a strange dog or a menagerie beast outside its cage,’” she quavered. “`Maintain an upright posture, firm eye contact, and an authoritative voice. If possible, withdraw deferentially, without haste or any sign of panic…’”

As she edged deeper into the almost-reeds, she straightened and called out, “Leave us alone, we don’t want trouble!” She added, “I’m a princess, not a little girl! I’m six, almost six and a half!”

Suddenly, a second and even larger creature burst out of the trees, as tall as the armoire. “No, no!” he bellowed. “Stay away, see!”

Sarah and Robert both shrieked, and immediately turned and ran. The girl took her brother’s hands, though within moments, it was he who pulled her forward. As they disappeared, the larger creature embraced his mate. He groomed her mane as she shook with honking sobs. “Ohh,” she said, “did we have to do that?”

“There, there, he said. “I’m sure they’ll be all right…” He gave a honk that made the children run faster still.

The Anthology Anthology: The very modern horror of Ambrose Bierce

 

As I write this, I’m looking at another week of posts, and I’m far enough ahead that it is still technically the weekend. As it happens, I was already working on something that spun off into another post, the fiction of Ambrose Bierce, which was transformed into the “true” tale of Oliver Larch. Here, I’m giving a wider, still anecdotal survey of his work.

 

For introduction, I’m not going to try to cover the author’s life or his place in American literature. What I was interested enough to run down is the background of the two collections I consulted, The Ghost And Horror Stories of Ambrose Bierce, which I bought in ebook form, and the more luridly named Terror By Night. The former has an introduction by one Dan Hawks, the latter by David Stuart Davies. Both otherwise appear almost identical (I’ll get to that…) both to each other and to the 1964 publication The Ghost And Horror Stories of Ambrose Bierce, edited and introduced by E.F. Bleiler, a scholar of science fiction and fantasy. On working this out, I was immediately satisfied that the 1964 book was one which I had read during college. (I distinctly recall reading it the same night I saw the end of Eight Legged Freaks on TV, because my superpower is my torment.) So, here’s a rundown of the ones that have stayed with me all this time.

 

“Moxon’s Master”- This is the most historically significant story by Bierce, a proto-science fictional tale about a chess-playing automaton that takes losing badly. In an unfortunate common denominator, it’s not really his best work. A good chunk of it is a monologue that lays out a kind of pantheism as a rationale for machine intelligence. The actual bout between man and machine is well-paced and intriguing, but there just isn’t much here.

 

“A Vine On A House”- This is an example of the formulaic side of Bierce’s work, done better than usual. On stopping at a crumbling and ill-reputed house, two travelers notice a vine shaking without explanation. An investigation leads to a grisly discovery. Surely based on the actual case of Rhode Island founder Roger Williams, it’s another story with overtones of animism, quite effective and still understated.

 

“Stanley Fleming’s Hallucination”- This is perhaps the most oddly prescient of Bierce’s stories, concerning a man who is threatened by nightly visions of a menacing hound in his bedroom. His roundabout confessions reveal a darker backstory that will end in supernatural revenge. One can find in it the conceptual bedrock of the Nightmare On Elm Street franchise (which I had previously traced through the work of Robert E. Howard). In a running theme, it feels underwhelming placed in context, which here more than usual is clearly our fault, not Bierce’s.

 

“A Fruitless Assignment”- Now we have Bierce’s true masterpiece, a brief misadventure of a journalist sent to investigate a supposed haunted house where mysterious yet decidedly unghostly figures come and go. It’s startling for how weak it should be on paper, less than 3 pages with a buildup that’s too long and never makes sense. But there is an incalculable impact in the utterly savage climax and the even more frustrating aftermath, with a deceptively well-realized and decidedly unsympathetic protagonist. On top of everything else, it’s a chillingly early treatment of PTSD. Here, the greatest horror is to live and learn nothing.

 

“The Spook House”- A longer piece by Bierce’s standards, another pair of travelers venture into a deserted house whose original owners disappeared. Only one will come out. It’s more of the economical savagery that the modern reader could easily overlook in familiarity, both atmospheric and gruesome. What impresses even now is the “ambiguous” ending, which Bierce truly excelled at.

 

“The Suitable Surroundings”- Here, we see Bierce in full-blown deconstructionism, tweaking the Gothic horror genre still in its prime. A writer challenges a reader to read his latest story under uniquely unsettling conditions, with deadly and comical results. I freely admit I didn’t try to re-read this one; what I remember is enough.

 

“The Difficulty of Crossing a Field”- A much better entry in Bierce’s cycle of eerie disappearance tales, a man disappears without a trace just outside his own front door. Again, the deeper horror is the exploration of the aftermath.

 

“A Jug of Sirup”- An entry in the “disappearing shop” niche genre as much as anything else, a storekeeper returns from the grave, so much himself that it takes a while for his old customers to notice. It’s another satire, not quite as subversive as “Suitable Surroundings” but correspondingly more unsettling. This is incidentally the epitome of Bierce’s view of the revenant dead, neither angelic nor vengeful, but merely acting the parts they did in life.

 

“Visions of the Night”- And this is the one that was only in the ebook, which I remembered from the 1964 edition. The author narrates a series of visions supposedly from his own dreams, the last being a seemingly whimsical encounter with a talking horse. One can take the authenticity with a heaping helping of salt, yet it is a convincing picture of the world of dreams that lays out a path for much to follow. (Fine, I’ll mention House…)

 

And that’s enough for me. Needless to say, there are many, many more that I am passing over, including supposed “classics”, but these are by all means representative of the stories that have impacted me. It should be obvious that I hold this author’s work in the highest regard, where it truly deserves it, and equally obvious that I am well aware of the flaws. In the proverbial light of day, Bierce stands out first and foremost as an author who didn’t and perhaps couldn’t pick a lane between satirizing what was wrong with a genre and actually doing it well. He also gives an early preview of the cycles of excess, self-parody, and revitalizing deconstruction that have afflicted horror fiction. But he also does offer some of the very best genre tales of his own or any other time, which are even now a breath of fresh air for anyone who has truly gone through the trash heap of history. Read him with my highest recommendation, perhaps ideally in small doses. The one thing you will not do is forget.

Image credit ISFDB.

Fiction: The Adventures of Princess Sarah demo!

 As I write this, I've been trying to work up a weekend post while it is still the weekend. After trying to build on other stuff, I finally admitted I wasn't going to do better than yet another demo I worked up as a spinoff of my retro gaming novel. It actually is an idea I've had for quite a while (see my Troll review), fleshed out with a couple characters I already had a lot of fun with. It also crossed my mind that just about everything good I've ever done has been on the fantasy/ mythology vein. So, here goes...

Princess Sarah and Prince Robert were the children of High King Hector and Queen Daffodil of the Aquamarine Isles and the united Kingdoms of the sea. Sarah was the second oldest of three little Princesses, and Robert was the youngest and the only Prince. Sarah was frustrated and suspicious that the King and Queen would not say if there would be another Prince or Princess. In the summer, when the High King liked to take his Queen on a tour of the Isles and the eldest Princess Lily was away at camp, Sarah and Robert and their sister Bell went to stay with their Grandmother, a Dowager with a great palace on the sea to the east. They loved spending time with Mummy. When they were not with her, they went on long adventures through the Palace grounds, which were full of all manner of wonders. A day came when Sarah announced that they would explore a more secluded part of the Palace.

She held up an old book with a map of the Palace. “Look,” she said, pointing at a turret on the far end of the grounds. “This is the Old Royal Bedroom. Grandma says it’s just a storeroom now. But the location is all wrong. I think there’s something interesting. Anyway, we covered the west wing already. Did you gather our provisions?”

“Frog,” Prince Robert said. He was still just beginning to talk, at an age when Sarah had already had an extensive vocabulary. He held out a purse shaped like a frog, which their mother had fitted with straps to wear on his back. Sarah sorted through the contents. The first was his favorite story book. Next were an umbrella, a tin of soup crackers and a tiny jar of pomegranate jam.  Then there was a smaller frog-shaped coin purse that had been his beloved toy before he inherited the larger one. It rattled with his Collection, a shifting assortment of objects he picked up. It held about a dozen small rocks, three marbles and a pretty seed pod. She opened a compartment in the roof of its mouth with a key Mummy had entrusted to her. It held three candies. Sarah sighed.

“Robert,” she said, “I told you, we need food, not treats….” She relented when she pulled out a sack on the bottom. It held a large roll, a lemon, two peaches, an eighth of a cheese wheel and half a sausage. Robert held out another item. It looked like another toy, shaped like a saurian with a stubby tail and a large, round head. In fact, it was a pitcher, with a lid that formed the saurian’s upper jaw. In the purse were two cups.

“Dink,” Robert said.

“Okay,” Sarah said. She shouldered her own bag, shaped like a Water Cow. “This is good. Now, let’s go.”

 

She led the way. She wore a simple checkered dress, because only little girls wore overalls like boys did. On her feet, she wore perfectly sized and entirely functional hiking boots that clomped loudly on the palace floor. Robert wore her old pair, which were dyed a salmon pink that had worn and faded down to white spots. As they proceeded, the Palace attendants discretely stepped aside. They paused when they found Mummy in their path, innocently playing with her pet ferret. “Hello, children,” she said. “Are you exploring today?”

“Yes,” Sarah said. “We’re going to survey the West Tower.”

“I see,” Mummy said. “Are you sure you want to? It hasn’t been used in a long time, it must be awfully dusty.”

“Yes,” Sarah said. “I bet the catalog is out of date. We can clean up.”

“If you say so,” Mummy said. She gestured to an attendant, who brought her a comb to groom the ferret. “Do be careful. Be sure to be back by tea time.” She waved as they entered the tower stairway.

“Bye bye,” Prince Robert called back.

The stairway proved to be a long climb. They paused at a chamber a third of the way up. It was configured as a sitting room, with a small table that held a chess board complete with pieces. Sarah measured out half the crackers, and filled their cups from Dink. While Robert munched his share, she examined the table. “I knew it,” she said, lifting the red king. “There’s no dust. Someone has been using this section recently.”

“Dink?” Robert said, holding out his cup.

“We need to conserve our water,” Sarah said, then relented and filled his tumbler halfway.

They were winded as they reached the top. It was a high-ceilinged octagonal chamber that echoed with the sound of their boots. The better part was filled by a great bed ringed by curtains. Facing it was a painting of a woman who looked like their mother. Sarah frowned as she looked up. It showed her from behind, in the act of emerging from her bath. Her head was turned back, throwing a sly smile over her shoulder. When the Princess saw Robert at her side, she said, “Go play play. Over there.” She redirected him from the bed to a celestial globe to one side. He giggled as he spun the concentric brass rings.

“Wait,” Sarah said. Her brother froze with a puzzled expression. “You weren’t being bad,” she assured him quickly. She showed him how to turn the knobs and dials properly. She frowned again. “This was tuned, recently.”

She went out onto the balcony. She opened the main compartment of her bag, which formed the belly of the Water Cow. The buckles of the strap were anchored on the tip of the tail and between its horns. She brought out her field glasses and her favorite book, the Royal Explorers’ Guidebook. “`First, survey the area from an elevated position,’” she read. She looked out with the glasses. It was, of course, all familiar landscape, though she discovered that she could see the Royal Flamingo Preserve. She helped Robert up and held the glasses for him.

“Birds,” he said.

“`Next, sketch a chart of the terrain,’” she read. She set down the glasses and took out a drawing pad. She scribbled an outline of the lagoon. “`Make particular note of usable caves and shelters, navigable waterways, and any structures of artificial origin.’” She put an X on a canal that ran back to the Palace. “`Catalog the birds and game…’” She watched the flamingos as they milled about the lagoon.

“Well,” she said with a sigh, “I guess we’ve surveyed this area.” She was mildly surprised to find that Robert was no longer at her side. She was momentarily alarmed when she did not see him behind her either. She circled the bed before she panicked, as Mother told her. Sure enough, her brother was on the other side, looking up at a large armoire.

“Leave it alone,” she said, walking to his side. “I’m sure it’s locked, anyway.” He pulled at a handle that was just within his reach. The left door came open. “Oh. Well, I’m sure there’s nothing interesting…” She opened the door, and then the other.

The armoire was in two parts. The right side was a set of drawers with a cabinet on top. They were locked, except for a pair of drawers just under the cabinet door. She pulled one out, and found it disappointingly small. The left side was an open space as large as her closet, where a suit, a fur wrap and a greatcoat still hung. Sarah tugged at the coat, and found it stiff with age. Robert pointed and whimpered. She followed his pointing finger to a curled up beetle at the back. “I see it,” she said. “Poor little bug.” He whined expectantly.

She sighed and climbed into the armoire. It seemed larger inside than outside, tall enough for Mummy or Mother or even Father to stand upright. She drew a handkerchief and carefully picked up the beetle. “There,” she said, holding up the kerchief. “We’ll give Mr. Beetle a funeral.” She shrieked at a buzzing from under the cloth. She shook out the kerchief, and the now-squirming beetle tumbled out. Before it hit the ground, it spread its wings and flew out through the open door.

“Well,” she said, smoothing her dress, “Mr. Beetle must have gotten stuck inside. It’s a good thing we opened the door, or he might never have gotten out. Let’s go back to the other room.” She climbed down, and started to push the right door shut. She paused, frowned, and opened the drawer again.

“This is too small,” she said. “It’s shallow, do you see? It can’t go all the way to the back. Not even halfway…” Robert looked intently, and nodded in seeming agreement. She opened the other drawer. From it, she pulled two keys. One was weathered brass, the other mirror-bright silver.

She went back inside the armoire. Robert followed, holding his little frog. She ran a hand along the wood paneling. The joining was artful, but could not be hidden. She knocked twice, producing a hollow rattle. She found a decorative panel that slid to one side. Behind it was a keyhole. Robert tugged at her sleeve. “No,” he said solemnly. “Frog Frog say so.” The eyes of his frog swiveled and blinked.

“Don’t worry,” Sarah said. “It’s just a trick door, like Mother’s magic drawer. Look.” She turned the brass key in the lock. The door swung open. It revealed a set of shelves. It was mostly books, most of them in strange languages and letters. On the top shelf were a bottle, a jar, a knife and a strange skull. “See? Just grown-up stuff.” She shut the door and locked it. Only when it clicked did she realize that she had used the silver key.

“Huh,” she said. “They both fit the same lock. I wonder why…” She turned the key again. The door opened…

“Sarah!” Robert called out. He grabbed for her skirt.

The hidden door clicked shut.

And slowly, the ponderous doors of the empty armoire swung shut.

Futures Past: The Captain N comic book

 As I write this, I'm two months and counting in my sabbatical from blogging, and have also spent two weeks watching my retro gaming parody/ fan novel not sell, and bought a new computer for good measure. In the midst of all this, I got to thinking more about something I mentioned once before, a traumatic experience that scarred an entire generation. I speak, of course, of Captain N: The Game Master, a show even kids who were several years/ eons away from Batman: The Animated Series knew was kaka. And what really brought me back to it wasn't writing a 100,000-word novel, or buying a Samus figure for three times its retail price, but finding out there was a comic book. And by reputation, it is actually... good? Okay? Tolerable??? Clearly, I was going to have to investigate first-hand.

So, to back things up, I did indeed watch Captain N first-hand during its run, and as usual, I have some very distinct recollections  that I now know don't line up with the actual run of the show. I'm sure I saw it first during a vacation that could have been before I had a TV at home, a story arc I assumed was the pilot that I figured out would actually be episodes 4 and/ or 5. It could easily have been a year or more before I watched it again, on the same network affiliate where I first saw Darkwing Duck, in a slot that required getting up early to watch it at all. I can recall several of the more famed/ notorious episodes (including their Tetris one!), of which I'm sure all were in a half-hour, single-story format. From the research that I did for this post, that means I only saw seasons 1 and 2, the last episode of which aired in very early 1991. However, I'm sure I was watching it well after that, probably into 1992 if not later. This fits with certain reports that it was in network syndication as late as 1994.

Now, with all the easy jokes already at hand, I'm sure everyone is expecting me either to destroy this show or defend it as a neglected classic. However, that simply isn't how it was. The now-storied clashes of titans that defined modern animation were all happening after school between Fox Kids and the Disney Afternoon.  Even back then, it was obvious that Saturday mornings were the low end of the pool, the usually short-lived experiments, the outdated-on-arrival tie-ins, the reruns and reboots of shows you had thought you were too old for the first time around. If you accepted the ritual of getting up before 7 in the morning, then you were probably going to watch whatever they threw at us without complaining. And you could get lucky, with shows like Darkwing Duck or a good episode of Garfield And Friends. Then again, you could get the likes of ProStars, Karate Kid and Hammer Man, all of which I most certainly watched in the same timeframe if not the same network and lineup as Captain N. And in their company, yes, Captain N reached the proverbial high standard of mediocrity. We were already past the Dark Ages, into a time where even a low-tier cash grab could be expected to have some measure of technical quality and narrative coherence. If it came to that, when Mother Brain was competent, when Simon Belmont wasn't actively stupid, when Kevin and Princess Lana aren't vying to be both bland and irritating (yes, even compared to Simon and Kid Icarus), when they actually did something creative with the "guest" game characters no matter how little sense it made in relation to the game, it could be entertaining.

And then there is the comic, which I had absolutely no idea existed until noting a few passing mentions in connection with Metroid. This one was published by Valiant, also responsible for a Super Mario comic I'm now sure I encountered in the wild sometime in the 1990s. The first issue was published in May 1990. Alas, the run ended in September of the same year after only five issues. In its short run and after, it gained a reputation as both more faithful to the source games and far better in quality than the TV series. Unsurprisingly, copies are scarce and quite expensive. Fortunately, the real-world heroes at Captain N.net have assembled a library for all the internet to read, for the moment.

Meanwhile, what brought me to this comic was its chief claim to fame or infamy: Unlike the entirety of the TV series, it featured Samus Aran as a major character. In fact, she was introduced as a "guest" character in the last of several storylines in the first issue of the comic, and continued to appear at least once in every remaining issue of the run. In the first appearance, titled "Money Changes Everything", she was set up as a neutral bounty hunter willing to consider an offer from Mother Brain. By "The Happy Zone" in the following issue, she was already established as a member of the "N Team" and a rival to Princess Lana for the affections of Captain N/ Kevin, which admittedly wasn't a big deal in the TV series. After appearing in a single panel of "The Fabulous Powers of Captain N" in issue 3, she got a full protagonist treatment in "Breakout" in issue 4, where a corrupt judge sends her and Princess Lana to a prison planet from which they must escape. In issue five, she got not one but two appearances. First, in "Garbageworld", a time travel mishap sends her to a future where Kevin is finally willing to reciprocate her interest, but also is reduced to leading the remnants of the resistance to Mother Brain from an interstellar garbage dump. Then in "When Friends Fall Out", Princess Lana discovers evidence that the bounty hunter was responsible for the disappearance of the old king of Videoland, in a story that was obviously meant to be finished in the announced but never printed issue 6.

So, with that out of the way, is this comic any good? Having read the Samus story arc, and skimmed a few more storylines, I can certainly affirm that this is vastly better than the TV show. The unavoidable punchline is, this is pretty much like saying the show was better than the Battletoads pilot. We aren't just comparing two different things, but two things in very different stages of development. The relative strengths of the comic come down to the fact that it is trying to establish its world and characters, but there was a point when the show made some effort to do the same. Whether the same level of quality could have been maintained over a longer run is unknowable at best. What can be seen all too clearly is that this is far from a top-notch comic for its own or any other time. The artwork is no better than average for a newspaper comic, and particularly weak when called on to establish a larger setting, the one thing that the show was undisputedly good at as long as it was trying at all. The stories serve up several duds, notably "Breakout". The real bottom line is that the comic is still everything the show was reviled for, a middling to low budget cash-in built around references to niche pseudo-mythology, though with the difference that it gets said mythology mostly right.

And then there is Samus, the one thing that made this at all memorable. As with many things, you can see where they were trying, not so much where they did this right. Sure, she's a developed and sympathetic female character with a "dark" side that isn't simply waved away by the power of love (yet...). However, while her open infatuation with the male lead isn't exactly "stereotypical" as such, it is quickly magnified to a level that can only be regarded as either actually disturbing or wholly contrived, to the point that she seriously goes through with accepting the garbage world timeline. Given the general intelligence of the material, it can be allowed that this really is meant to show her conflicting emotions and very gray morality. The deeper problem is that the story arc never pushes its own point. Every time she is presented with a choice between her mercenary ways and the good guys' ideals, the story always throws a softball rather than making her admit to past misdeeds or ongoing flaws. It's by all means a step forward, especially for a video game tie-in (Hell, the show wasn't afraid to show the dark side of unrequited "love" either), but it's the kind that shows just how far we still had to go. Oh yes, and this could all look far, far worse if we actually knew how the Hell old our "hero" is... 

So that's Captain N, the show and the comic book. So, was this worth it? Considering how notorious this has gotten, it was definitely worth a rematch, and I'm more than happy to have dug up the comic book. For myself, I hope I have at least given some perspective. By my standard rant, this wasn't "good" by any means, but anyone who thinks this is the "worst" we got is either too young or suffering from repressed memories. (Hey, sometimes, I wish I could come down with that...) All in all, a weekend isn't too much time for a trip down this rabbit hole. That's all for now, more to come!

Image credit valiant.fandom.com.

Fiction: Retro gaming parody novel publication announcement!

 

It's Labor Day, which means this is still technically the last weekend of a month when I've so far done only two posts and absolutely no movie reviews. I'm breaking the silence to announce that my Nintendo fan/ parody novel (see demos 1, 2,  and 3, the mythology appendix and extra) is up for sale, as linked to here.  In the meantime, I threw in some art on top of the cover I already spent too much on, resulting in the interior title page above from an artist named Carlos Miguel Garcia. My specific instructions were to make a "1980s futuristic" ship, and I will be the first to admit that really is what Eighties "kit-bashed" sci fi ships were like. Here's another piece of artwork I shelled out for. For context, the description in the book has the mother dragon monster using a chokehold. And they're both being held hostage by the empress of an evil magic-mirror dimension...

So that's what I have to show for 4 and a half months of work and definitely more money than I'm remotely likely to get back. So was it worth it? Well, it probably helped keep me sane, which is something. And while I'm at it, here's my final version of the ship design everybody kept telling me not to use.

That's all for now, more to come... I'm still not saying when.

Fiction special: Retro gaming fan/ parody novel announcements!

 As I write this, I'm at the start of a week I had planned to get in 3 posts for, and I've had a rough day. To fill out the lineup, I decided to post a few announcements about my novel. First, I have indeed finished a complete novel for about the last month (see the fourth demo), which I am currently trying to lock down from further revision I have also submitted the book to the two publishers I could find with an online submission process, which indicated that I should be notified of acceptance or rejection sometime in August. That gives me a couple more months to obsess over the book.

Meanwhile, I did something actually fun. I found a website called Fiver where you can hire freelance artists. I got a black-and-white illustration done by an artist named Nekosa who looked like a fit for my style, based on a scene about halfway through the book. Here, for the first time, is what I got out of it. I feel like this is what would happen if this was a 1980s video game and this was the box art; it doesn't literally represent the scene (which I willingly departed from to show all the characters really doing something), but it gets the idea and essence. Needless to say, I ask that all readers refrain from reposting or circulating this image except as links to this post.

And here's what I could come up with for an actual cover. This was the original title I replaced in the drafts I have circulated so far, because at least one person beat me to it on the Amazon Kindle platform alone. After further assessment, I decided I could use it without legal risk or creating problems for the other author, whose work as advertised is not within the fantasy or parody genres or otherwise directly based on the source material. And, of course, the powers that be can't sue me without suing the other guy first...

So, that is where matters stand. I will be waiting for input and checking out one more legal issue involving the use of song lyrics. If no route to mainstream publication materializes, I plan to put this up by September of this year. I am considering options for getting feedback and maybe a little money while this is still in limbo. Meanwhile, I will be busy going back to actual work. That's all for now, more to come!

Adaptation Insanity: The one that was an anime more anime than anime

 

Title: Urusei Yatsura 2: Beautiful Dreamer

What Year?: 1984

Classification: Unnatural Experiment/ Anachronistic Outlier

Rating: It’s Okay! (3/4)

 

As I write this, I’m rounding out the month while editing an actual novel, and I decided it was time to do another entry in this still-new feature. It also happened that I’ve been down an extra rabbit hole with a decades-old multimedia franchise I’ve only just heard of. That brought me to one particular artifact I decided to write up for this feature, even though it is animated. As we will be seeing, however, it’s also a very odd treatment of a strange and often retrospectively horrifying property. Without further ado, I present Urusei Yatsura 2, a film based on a franchise where a literal stalker and a compulsive womanizer are the couple we’re supposed to want to get together.

Our story begins with a contest between clubs at a high school whose student body includes Ataru, a slacker who harasses every female in sight, Lum, an alien with electroshock powers who insists she is already married to him, and Mendou, a rich kid who can afford his own tank. As events progress, the cast begin to notice things that are odd even in their frame of reference. Soon, they find themselves in an empty city where electricity, water and food simply appear without explanation, an arrangement the slacker seems happy to accept at face value. But the rich kid and his self-described spouse are determined to get to the bottom of it. They discover that the familiar cityscape is really a reproduction floating in space on the back of a turtle, but even that may still be an illusion. It’s up to the slacker to find the truth, and along the way, he must confront the nature of reality and his relationships!

Urusei Yatsura 2: Beautiful Dreamer was a 1984 theatrical animated film, the second based on the manga and anime series created by Rumiko Takahashi. The film was written and directed by Mamoru Oshii, also the director of the preceding film Only You, reportedly with little or no participation by Takahashi. The film was released in Japan in 1984, and on US home video with an English dub in 1993. It was initially poorly received by fans of the manga/ anime series, but became well-regarded as a pioneering anime film with themes that anticipated later works such as Ghost In The Shell. (Dammit, I’m going to have to do that one…) It is currently available for free streaming on Tubi.

For my experiences, this all started because someone introduced me to the original Urusei Yatsura manga, which I have found simply mindboggling. I would have to give it a separate writeup if I was going to cover it at all, but it will suffice to say that I can only find it comprehensible by comparison with my own Exotroopers series (see the Samus figure post/ rant): These are characters who are and should be absolutely horrible, yet are entertaining enough for us not to want them to die. After going through a few volumes of the manga run, I came to the present film, and I found something different and much stranger. What I found especially striking was its timing, obviously well after the beginnings of anime (compare with Castle of Cagliostro and Lily CAT) yet still well before it took the forms we would take for granted now. As a corollary, it is a full-blown case of what I call the Anachronistic Outlier, for once already noted by many besides me, with the especially curious tendency of comedies and parodies (see Dark Star, Twitch of the Death Nerve and less auspiciously Galaxina) to be more innovative than “straight” treatments from the same time and even significantly later. That, of course, leaves the question whether it is good, and a lot will depend on taste and mood.

Moving forward, the main thing to get out of the way is that this film very much presumes prior familiarity with the franchise. If you don’t understand the characters, relationships and assumed world already (or like them in the first place), you aren’t going to have many chances. The paradox on this front is that this does not become a source of “insider” humor. Indeed, the movie doesn’t have that much in the way of humor, beyond the bizarre situations and wildly flawed characters already built into the franchise. On a deeper level, the film genuinely shifts the perspective, which in turn becomes foreshadowing of what will be revealed. When the focus moves to the secondary characters, the “stars” simply look like idiots that nobody else would have any reason to care about, unless of course this world was literally built around them. The final twist is that when the actual main character takes charge, he really does manage to think through the situation.

That leaves the story’s visual, and that brings us to one more paradox, little if anything here is “psychedelic” or even surreal. The “baseline” style is semi-realistic human characters in realistic and often very detailed environments. I will say personally that this is absolutely a believable portrayal of how “real” mental illness works, and I will shout loudly that it makes for an exponentially better payoff as the dream world encroaches on the setting. It should be of further note that even then, there is not a fundamental change in the animation style, which is where certain pros and cons come in. Again, it is effectively acknowledged that people who experience hallucinations often perceive them as part of the actual world. On the other hand, many sequences simply feel like a sane person’s idea of madness, which I have already ranted about. Per my longest-running complaint, the part that films like this often overlook is the breakdown of the very sense of the passage of time and linear causation, which is exactly where even the severely delusional will realize they are hallucinating without necessarily pulling out of it. The most intriguing example is Shinobu’s encounter with a spectral girl whose status is never made clear as her own surroundings become distorted. She clearly realizes that this is not the “real” world, yet this is still short of the terror of total breakdown.

That leaves the “one scene”, and the one I knew I would go with is exactly at the half-hour mark. At this point, a nurse/ priestess who is easily the most intelligent and consistently competent character in the franchise has gotten in a cab at night. She voices the suspicion that the ride is taking longer than needed. The cabbie starts to talk, quite charmingly, and this becomes our introduction to the antagonist, voiced by one Draidyl Roberts in the English dub. He begins with what could be a casual joke that time feels slower in a cab. That leads into a metaphysical ramble in which he asserts that time, space and reality itself are all products of human perception, all while the lady clearly grows more aware that this is not simply a talkative driver. What keeps this interesting is that none of his points are inarguable in universe. Human perceptions of the universe may be shaped by all manner of biases, but it will become clear that this character’s own angle is talking up his own power to warp reality. Even so, the lady is already able to see through his illusions. What matters is that this battle of wits is clearly just beginning, which is exactly why a good scene like this matters.

In closing, what I find I come back to is my own feelings about anime. I’ve already regularly commented that people who know me would expect me to be a lot more of a fan than I am. The underlying reality is that I have never tried to “follow” anime in any comprehensive way. That means that I have undoubtedly missed a lot that is very good, and even more that is very, very bad. I consider the present film a good example of why a little anime can be better than a lot. It’s a well-made entry in a long-running series that requires some background knowledge but not a detailed knowledge of everything that came before. Perhaps most significantly, it’s a well-regarded and influential anime that was never hyped up into a “classic” you have to watch for fans to take you seriously. (No way I’m naming names…) It’s just good fun from a time when that was still the benchmark for the artform. Watch it, if you have the time, and you won’t be disappointed. With that, I’m calling it a day.

Fiction: Nintendo parody novel extra!

 

As I write this, it's Sunday and I haven't gotten in the post I meant to do this week. So, I decided to post yet another demo for the parody/ fan novel that's been consuming most of my time (see demos 1, 2 and 3 plus the badly edited appendix). This is the first draft of a scene I tweaked a bit to set up themes and references I didn't think to put in the first time, but it's mostly the same in the final draft. All in all, this is the part that was just fun...

King Ajax watched Aeacus’ ship depart through a telescope in the turret that was called the Royal Observatory. It rose to rejoin a modest fleet of ships high above. Meliboia pointed out the different ships. “That’s a Cygnus like mine,” she said, pointing out a familiar twin-nacelled craft. “There aren’t as many as there used to be.” She pointed out a double-hulled craft, and another with three equally spaced wings. “There’s a Gemini medium fighter, and a Trident interceptor.” She focused the telescope on a craft that her father’s ship was in the process of docking with. It was an elegant ship divided into three sections including the lander that had just rejoined, each with a wide pair of sweeping wings. “And that is the Geryon. It’s the most powerful Myrmidon warship there is or ever will be. It wouldn’t look like much next to a Union cruiser, but it has the armament of a ship five times its size. It could blow ships 20 times its size out of space, and it has.”

“I take it, then, I should not upset my in-laws,” Ajax said. He noted Mel's brother Amyclas loitering with a companion.

“That is always the best policy,” said the Dowager Prunus at his side.

 

As lunch gave way to afternoon, they walked with the Dowager in the upper galleries of the Palace, where numerous windows gave the feel of open air. “I am pleased that you came,” Prunus said to Mel. “Frankly, I am pleased with your choice of dress. The people of the Kingdoms have been so scandalized, one might think you were parading around like a nudist. I made my own inquiries. My judgment was that you dress like a Maiden courting rumor. It has its place, but there is a time when a Lady must consider her years.”

“How old do you think I am?” Mel asked coolly.

Prunus laughed. “You will not trap me that way,” she said. “Know this, King Ajax has been in this world 12 of our years. When he came, he was 26 by the reckoning of Earth. When he and his brother first appeared, I had them searched. I personally examined, I believe it was called, his driver’s license.”

“Then he is younger than me,” Mel said freely. “By a little. I suppose that would be a scandal. Maybe almost as much as a man of fifty marrying a woman of twenty.”

“We do not actually have much of that here,” Prunus said. “Our bonds of love are strong, or so others judge. Our bearing is easy, even in our later years. When a man does outlive his first Maiden, or parts from her, he usually finds a widow or Matron preferable in his maturity. The elders do not often compete with the boys for the Maidens. How is it among the Myrmidons?”

“Well, we aren’t really what you would call a self-sustaining population,” Mel answered. “They recruit among the males of the Diaspora and from other Misthioi. Most of the females are orphans and refugees that no one else will ransom or adopt, like me. At any given time, there are 2 or 3 men for every woman of age. It causes fewer problems than you might suppose. Many of the young men that join do so because they do not wish to marry. In Aeacus’ time, there was still a vow of celibacy. The ones who do take lovers do so as a fighting Triad, not a pair. Most often, two men fight with one woman. More rarely, two women fight with one man… Ah, perhaps this is too much for my Lord.” Ajax was blushing.

“It does not sound like a bad way to do things,” the King said carefully.

“Now, there is another matter,” the Dowager said. “There has been talk that Lady Meliboia is unable to bear an heir…”

“If it were so, it would be between her and myself,” Ajax said instinctively.

“Do not misunderstand,” the Dowager said in amusement. “I would have you know, I have your back. I do not care if a man and Lady bear Fruit, by choice or not. I say to all Hells with the `integrity’ of the bloodline. You and your brother have been Kings as great as any born to the noble Houses, and you came to us as landless peons with only your tools, the Music Box and a book of silly stories.”

“Trust me, I know,” Mel said. “I’ve met plenty of kings of high and noble blood. The good ones were dumb as Hydrae. The bad ones only left me alone when I told them I wasn’t going to give them Fruit. Or, I just killed them.” She considered. “Is there any chance I might see the things he brought with him?”

“King Ajax keeps his tools and his book for his own use,” Prunus answered.  “But the rest of the Relics of Ajax have a place of honor in the Palace.”

“Then I would like to see it,” Mel said.

They descended to the lower galleries where visitors wandered at will. A whole transept was devoted to Ajax and Hector. It was divided equally, but it was clear that most of the visitors favored Ajax’s side. A number of them pointed and murmured as the King approached. They passed the trophies of his greatest battles, like an Invader’s exoskeleton and the anchor of Naam’s skyship. At the very end was a cabinet for the relics he had brought with him. As they drew near, Mel covered her mouth.

About half the exhibit was devoted to the Music Box. It was a small, boxy portable tape player. Beside it were the headphones and two batteries, one of them encrusted with crystallized acid. The player was hooked up to two alchemist’s jars for power. A contraption the size of a small refrigerator had been set up to play sound for the guests. “I gave it to the Dowager after the batteries died,” Ajax said. “They had figured out enough physics and chemistry to reproduce its functions. They just don’t have the manufacturing methods to make compact electronics.”

As they watched, an Attendant carefully loaded a cassette and pressed a button. “Leaving On A Jet Plane” and “Walk Away Renee” played through the contraption’s speakers, badly. An old Mushroom Man and a Flower Girl had burst into tears before the Attendant returned the tape to its box. “Let me see that,” Mel said. At a nod from the Dowager, the Attendant handed it to her. It was a 90-minute mix tape with a list of tracks written in pen on the insert. In several places, one title had been scratched out and another written in. All told, there were 23 tracks.

“It’s my brother’s tape, really,” Ajax said. “We used to take turns recording songs off the radio.” Mel considered the two other tapes. They were the soundtracks from Heavy Metal and Krull.

“I want to listen to this,” she said, rattling the Mix Tape. “On the Box, with the headphones. I have my own power supply.”

The Attendants were clearly ready to protest, but again, Prunus intervened. “That was the second playing of the day, is it not?” she said. “Then the guests will be deprived of nothing if the Lady is allowed to use it.”

It took several keys to take out the Box and its components. Mel matter-of-factly produced a power pack clearly designed for similar devices. As she rewound the tape and began to play, she considered the other Relics on exhibit. Ajax could not have said whether the tape or the exhibit made him more uncomfortable. There was his slouch cap, with the letter A in metallic red. There were his tool box, his screw drivers, his plastic thermos. She finally turned one of the headphones. He could overhear “Nowhere Man.” He followed her pointing finger to one of the items.

“We were general maintenance contractors,” he said. “We did a lot of things. Anyway, it was a storage room for the janitors. We were just taking our break.”

“Still,” Mel said, “did you have to use that name?”

“It is my middle name,” King Ajax said.

The item was a blue can with bold red letters on a white field. It read AJAX. “For a while, we used it in the Palace,” the Dowager spoke up. “The Attendants were impressed. So were the Alchemists. We got through half the can before I had it sealed up for further study.”

She gave them distance. Mel looked at Ajax again with a smirk as she pointed at one more artifact. “Now, come on,” she said. “They must have figured that one out.” The object was marked, Expunger of Evil. It was a wooden rod with a large red cup.

“We called it that where we came from,” Ajax said. “It was our father’s.”

“Show me,” Mel said. She stopped the tape. This time, an attendant opened the case without further bidding. Ajax lifted it up with both hands.

“Stagnant water, you will flow,” he said. He went on with a flourish, because there was no way back. “Thing of evil, you will go!!!”

Mel clapped. So did the onlookers, which he belatedly realized included Hector, Daffy, Amyclas, and the High King of the Azure Realm. He smiled and bowed, still holding the Expunger.

Mel listened through the whole tape as they walked the grounds. She tapped her foot to “Popcorn” and “Music Box Dancer”. She started at the snap as the player reached the end of the first side, Ajax knew in the middle of “Total Eclipse of the Heart”. She flipped the tape and resumed listening with a respectful nod. She wiped a single tear at the end of “Big Yellow Taxi”. Finally, she frowned as she reached “Today Could Be The Day”, which lasted barely a minute before the tape snapped. 

“I tried to get that one in at the end,” Ajax said. “Then Hector rerecorded over another song and cut into it. I asked Morrie to try putting the rest together. He was Lady Pruna’s court minstrel. He  ended up creating a whole new song.” (Author's note: Yes, I tried "song fic" chapters in here. And rewriting the song was the most remotely sane way to get around the legal issues.)

“So,” Mel said as she  rose to her feet, “you let me listen to your mix. A lot of guys wouldn’t do that. So what do you have to say?”

He dropped to his knees at her feet and prepared to say what he had intended to wait days, perhaps a week for. Only then did he realize that he did not have the carefully chosen ring. Mel rested her hand on his scalp. “Wait,” she said, “there is another way. You humbled yourself. Now, rise.”

Mel removed the sword and sheath from her belt. “This is a custom of the Myrmidons,” she said. She knelt and held up her sword. “My brother, with Janus as my witness, I offer you my loyalty and my love. Take from me this sword, and I will be your sheath.” She blushed at the innuendo but did not pause. “Be my lover, my captain and my mate, and I will follow you to Heaven or Hades.” By then, her eyes were closed. She smiled as he took the sword, gaping in wonder.

“My Lady,” he said, kneeling again, “be my Queen!” He held out his own signet to her.

There were cheers as they rose. Mel waved. Then Daffy rushed in. “Ohmygosh ohmygosh ohmygosh that was so romantic-! Sorry.”

“I’m okay,” Mel groaned beneath her.

“Welcome to the family,” Ajax said. He reached down and helped her up.

“Welcome to you, too,” Amyclas said. He threw an arm around the King. “By the way, you do know you just married her. Right?”