I have explained before (at needless length) about why the movie 2012 makes perfect sense. (http://owenkcstephens.com/2014/01/21/why-the-movie-2012-makes-perfect-sense/). So, here is why Signs makes perfect sense.
The aliens are drunk frat boys in an intergalactic hazing.
Think about it. If rich (rich enough to afford stellar travel, anyway), entitled humanoids are running around naked in an environment that is 2/3 made of harmful materials, and they are so incapacitated they can’t figure out how a door handle works, and they are crashing children’s birthday parties, what else could they be but drunk teens performing stupid dare-based bonding rituals?
In fact, they are SO drunk their wormhole drive gives members of the preacher’s family time-traveling visions of the moments just before they hit the tachyon overdrive to leave the planet (“Swing away”).
It wasn’t an invasion. It was a flashing incident gone wrong.
Twenty three years ago Lj Hamilton did me the honor of marrying me and taking my last name. It was a decision I had taken more than a year to make, because I took it very seriously. It was also, bar none, the best decision I ever made.
Lj and I are a partnership, so we both get at least partial credit for anything either of us have ever accomplished. My writing career is a spectacular example of this, as without Lj’s encouragement, support, and help (especially in the first few years, when she took the time to edit my every magazine submission before it went in to the staff). It was her idea to submit articles to Dragon and Pyramid, go to the TSR RPG Writer’s Work in Seattle, and apply for the job I got at WotC in 2000.
Together we’ve faced the deaths of family and friends, moved across the country and back, put in hundreds of hours of road trips (generally playing solo rpgs for half the time as we ground through the miles), screamed a few times, laughed a lot, cried an few times, and learned that while we cannot always guarantee our partner’s success, we can create an environment where it’s safe to try and fail.
Once we’d been married about a decade, we started being asked from time to time, what our secret for success was. Lj encapsulated it once, and it’s a great bit of wisdom I will never forget.
“If you love someone, act like it.”
Love you, sweetie. Happy anniversary.
D&D is just a *little* younger than me. It turned 40 this weekend, and I’m 43. But it has been around for all the years I needed it, and I cannot adequately explain how important that was for me. But I’ll try.
I was first introduced to D&D in the summer of 1982. I was staying at my uncle’s house in Tennessee, the year of the Knoxville World’s Fair, while my parents took a trip to Europe. My uncle had a library at least as vast as my parents’ (and mostly with *different* books), and among them was the 1979 1st edition AD&D Dungeon Master’s Guide. I was enrapt.
But that’s *all* the D&D he had, and he’d never played. I wanted to play, and he was willing to run a game, but he wanted me to “figure out how to play” so he could run it for me. There were lots of clues how D&D was supposed to work, but without a Player’s Handbook or Monster Manual, I saw there was a lot of information I needed to fill in before we could try anything.
So, I set to work. I created my own notes for classes, and weapons (which, I remember, included light sabers, space axes from the Lensman books, and the kligat throwing weapon from the Star Trek episode “Friday’s Child”). I have no idea how good the rules I cobbled together were – no copies survived leaving my uncle’s house that summer –but they were good enough for us to get a few games in. It is thus literally true that I was writing rules for RPGs before I had ever played one.
After that I only played at conventions for a few years, though I got all the D&D books I could lay my hands on. My mother initially worried that I would “bother” the RPG players at the cons, as I was 12-13, and they were mostly college age kids. As she tells the story, she took a GM aside at midnight one night and asked if I was a problem. “No,” he said, “his take on his character is interesting. Let him stay.” I was hooked. It was like reading the classic SF and pulp books I loved so much, but better. I survived on Tunnels and Trolls solo dungeons when I couldn’t get to a convention.
When I moved from the local elementary school to a middle school, my game books came with me. As a result, other kids into D&D (and T&T, and Star Fleet Battles, and Champions, and a slew of other games that were blossoming) would see me with my books, and ask if I played. I was a fat kid, an introvert, and socially awkward. Having some flag I could fly that made other kids come to me? Having a subject we could immediately discuss? Those were miracles that changed me. Roleplaying was my gang, and D&D were our colors.
High school was harsh for me, and I can honestly say I was miserable most of the time and considered suicide more than once. But RPGs let me explore ideas I was too afraid to discuss, helped me form a strong social support group, and let me make friends I am still playing with 25 and 30 years later. Nothing else came close to letting me deal with my pain, and learn something about bravery. And planning, math, history, grammar … I doubt there is any positive aspect of my personality I can’t trace back to D&D.
I met my wife through roleplaying, and discovered it was as useful for having something to talk to girls about as it was to make friends. (At least, for the most interesting girls!) In time I learned that my ideas were developed enough I could be paid for them, and a career was born. I strove to be worthy of Dragon Magazine, and later was hired by Wizards of the Coast, where I made more friends with folks I’d have never met if not for this game.
My career has gone many places since then, and now I find myself acting as freelance writer and developer, and small-time publisher in my own right. That has brought ANOTHER whole wave of awesome folks I never would have met otherwise.
D&D gave me hope and direction as a child, and saved my life as a teen. It introduced me to my wife, gave me a career, and put my wife through college. There have been many games that have taken up more of my time for specific periods over the years, and now I spend more time with pathfinder than my original love, but it all goes back to D&D.
Happy birthday to the Dungeons. Happy Birthday to the Dragons. You helped define my life. Thank you.
The movie 2012 isn’t a disaster movie. It is a misunderstood sweeping supernatural epic about angry gods, failed shamans, and what kinds of sacrifices are needed to appease elder forces of dread.
Jackson Curtis is the last scion of a long line of shamans, mixing both many bloodlines of ancient Irish and Celtic origin and (somewhere in the woodpile) one of the last Mayan shaman bloodlines.
As his last name suggests, “Curtis” was destined to be a polite messenger, a harbinger of new things brought in with proper ceremony. When the Mayan Long Count calendar rolls over, shamans of his line were to help define what forces would describe the new age.
While that shouldn’t have actually happened in 2012, the Mayan gods are more driven by belief than math, so the erroneous common perception that December 21, 2012 is the date of the turnover drives their divine actions rather than a centuries-old accounting of days.
But when the Mayan Gods look to see how the Welcome Shamans have prepared for the new age, all they find is Curtis, and his only real work of storytelling (the main way shamans prepare society for the future) is a extremely unpopular book called Fairwell Atlantis. The gods of fire, water, and earth are angered by his total failure, and look to his story.
From movie’s viral tie-ins, we know this book is “This first person account of a disastrous flight aboard the Space Shuttle Atlantis is nonstop suspense from the start. Opening lines are crucial in setting the tone of a story, and Curtis hits his mark running with, “I am watching Martin die in the pitiless vacuum of space.” This poignant blast from Captain and Chief Systems Engineer Troy Scottsman screams emotion and vulnerability in the harsh environment as his Flight Commander drifts slowly away.
On the outside, Farewell Atlantis is a hard core science-fiction-mystery-adventure novel with larger than life characters. The premise of a Galactic Alignment has played havoc with gravitational forces as the planets cue up. The proton bombardment on planet Earth’s thinning magnetic field in the wake of excessive solar storms brings uncertainty to the future of mankind. As the space shuttle orbits the doomed planet Earth, a saboteur prevents the crew from helping those on the ground.“
So, taking their cue from his “shamanistic” description of the new age, those gods seek to destroy the world, and kill Jackson Curtis himself, in keeping with the first line of his book. Their powerful psionic and divine energies create readings so bizarre that the scientists who try to understand them are driven mad, resulting in nonsensical ramblings about neutrinos and other crazy theories that SHOULD tell the audience that science is being killed by supernatural forces too horrific to comprehend.
The Mayan Gods of Air, however, decide they *like* Curtis, and seek to save him. Air is the thing most dearly needed in his book (about a spacecraft), and his description of “solar storms” in the story are taken as an appeasement by the Air Gods on the power of storms. So they send him warning (if dangerous) winds, buoy up his airplanes, and divert debris from crushing him at the last second.
In the end, the Mayan Gods accept the Great Arcs and those who die just outside them as living sacrifices and new temples, and end their divine rampages. (And apparently SOME shamans in Africa are still doing *their* jobs, since the continent is largely spared).
When seen in this light, everything in the movie makes sense.
This post is sure to be a bummer, as it’s about losing a pet. Feel free to skip it. It’s going to be pretty disjointed, anyway.
One of the things I have talked about on and off for months was the failing health of my last cat, Cortez. Sadly he had a clear, sudden, obviously irreversible turn for the worse overnight, and we had to have the vet end things for him today.
I had Cortez for around 15 years, longer than any other pet I’ve had. We had three cats as little as a few years ago, but over the past couple of years lost the other two. Now with Cortez gone, for the first time ever in this house, I am totally alone. There is no living thing sharing this space with me, until my wife gets home tonight.
Cortez was a very special pet for me. He had a mixed reputation among my friends – some were actually afraid of him, some actively (but respectfully) disliked him, and some thought he was wonderful. Only four of all the people who have entered my house besides myself and Lj could consistently and safely pet Cortex, and much more than triple that number had been attacked by him with enough force to shed blood. To most of my social circle, he was a grumpy enigma.
Cortez absolutely was grumpy. He was also the very first cat to leave the box his litter was born in (his mother’s owner named him after an explorer as a result – he was Cortez before we got him, and we first met him at two weeks though he didn’t come home with us until later). He was also viciously loyal to his brother, vaguely tolerant of the elder cat we eventually added to our home, and surprisingly vocal about his defense of our doors and windows against outside animals.
Cortez was an explorer – first one to walk the perimeter of any new place we took him, but also agoraphobic. He *wanted* to go outside, but always froze as soon as he realized the was NO CEILING. We kept him and his compatriots as indoor-only cats for their own sake, but I’m pretty sure he’d have been a magnificent alley cat… if he’d been born outside. As it was he was fat, and soft, and much more wailer than warrior.
He also loved me in a way I have never seen any other cat love. While he was as randomly cuddly or stand-offish as any cat under normal circumstances, if I was sad or sick or hurt, he *always* came to me. And if he was stepped on he rushed to me for protection… even if I was the one who stepped on him.
He’d given us some scares over the years, and at least three times the vet told us he likely wouldn’t last more than a few more weeks. The last of those proclamations was over a year ago. Cortez was too stubborn to get sick and die on any schedule but his own. When we last thought his time might be up, the vet ran tests and concluded that while his body was riddled with cancer, all his organs were functioning normally. He put him on long-term pain control, and he was fine again for three months.
Yesterday, that ended. We made all efforts to find another way to give him more time, or perhaps to give more time with him, but his strength was clearly and swiftly gone. I will do all I can to heal and preserve a sick cat, right until that causes the pet distress or pain. His time was up, and he was kind enough to let me know.
I spent most of the night holding him, and called the vet as soon as they opened. Lj got a chance to say goodbye, but he was already barely with us. He has always hated car rides, but made only a single weak complaint as I took him to get some rest at last.
When Cortez had to stay overnight at a vet’s office some years ago, he was so violently aggravated he ended up in a larger dog cage with a sign that said “Warning, will strike!” He has always hated other animals. And yet, as he sat in the waiting room while I was at the counter, when a kitten got lose from its owner and rushed up to Cortez’s carrier, my grumpy, vicious, violent cat just pushed his nose through the grill, and nuzzled the young striped tabby, who promptly nuzzled back, then went off to play.
Cortez got the last laugh, and was an enigma to the end.
At the end, he was nuzzling me, because I was crying. It was the fasted and most peaceful I have ever had to let a pet go.
If loving your pets was enough to keep them with us, Cortexz would have lived forever.
I wrote this during what feels like the tail end of what I have called “The eye my hurricane of my grief.” I expect to be intermittent at best for a day or two at least. If I don’t respond to something, please don’t take it personally. I’m not sure yet how I am going to process this loss. Other, obviously, than writing about it.
So as of today I am no longer a member of Super Genius Games. The company and I had ceased to be a good fit, so we can to a mutually satisfactory agreement that has me no longer being a member of the Super Genius Entertainment LLC, and no longer the lead developer of Super Genius Games. I sincerely wish SGG good fortune in all its future endeavors, and I am very proud of the work I did while part of it.
A lot of that work is going to come with me in my new venture, Rogue Genius Games, which I am in the process of spinning up. I have also brought Warlords of the Apocalypse with me, and thus those of you with preorders are now my customers rather than SGG’s.
To be clear this has nothing to do with my joining Green Ronin (though the timing is a heck of a coincidence), and I have every intention of continuing my work on things like the Godlings, Time Thief, and Talented product lines. Though it’s going to take a little time to get my feet back under me.
I am sure more questions will come as we move forward, and I’ll have a lot more to talk about when the ink is a little dryer.
There are dates that make me look back at my actions over the past year, or 5, or 15, and ask; “Have I done enough to be the person I want to be?” That question has evolved over time, of course. It used to be “Have I done enough to achieve my goals,” and then “Have I done enough to be happy?” and briefly “Have I done enough to meet my maker in confidence?” I’m not saying those are bad versions of the question, either. They just aren’t the ones that resonate the most with me right now.
So have I done enough? No, not by a long shot. Okay, that naturally leads to; “What should I do that I’m not, or stop doing that I’m habitual about?” Which quickly segue to “When?” and “How?”
In recent years, Nov 1st has been one of those anniversaries because of NaNoWriMo. As friends and patrons talk about making a run at 50k words of fiction written in 30 days I think about the stories I have always meant to write. The stories I want to write. The fiction I somehow never have time to write.
Oddly, my job as a writer seems to get in the way of writing. Because I usually can’t afford to turn down a paid game-writing job to make time to write fiction I have no sure sale for, and at 60-80 hour weeks spent on sure-money-writing it’s hard to fit in more on top of what I am doing. Heck, I am almost guaranteed to NOT sell my first few complete long stories. And even if they do sell, 50k is not a novel and not a length with a lot of popular sales venues. So even if I decided that 60-hour weeks of game writing was not enough, that all the new business things I need to tackle were not enough, that being the new Pathfinder developer at Green Ronin was not enough and I *really* wanted to write 50k words in November, come Dec 1st I would not be done.
So every year, I sit at my desk on November 1st, and decide I’m not doing it. It’s not practical. It wouldn’t be useful. This is not the when. This is not the how. And each time, a year later, I wonder if that was the right call.
Failure, of course, is part of the process of success. And a failure to try is sometimes the smart call. But if you always do what you have always done, you’ll always have what you’ve always gotten. And I am tired of the answers I am giving my own questions.
So this year, I am going to fail differently. I am going to start writing. I have done 0 work on planning this out. I have no plan, no outline, and to be honest no expectation I can manage to write fiction every day, or get 50k words done in 30 days. Not with my commitments. Not with this workload. I expect I’ll fail.
But this year, I plan to fail differently.
Progress: 0 of 50,000 words.
Thanks to everyone for their kind words and support regarding the recent announcement that I would be joining Green Ronin as their Pathfinder Developer.
Obviously my relationship with Green Ronin goes back a long ways, but it’s still a thrill to make the hop from “freelancer” to “on-staff developer.” That thrill is only multiplied by the fact I’ll be developing Pathfinder material for GR, which lets me combine two of my favorite things!
A lot of people are wondering how this impacts my work with Super Genius games, and/or the Demiplane of Gaming podcast. Obviously even a part-time developer job impacts my available time, and in that regard I don’t know what the final balance of work and effort will be. But Chris and the GR crew aren’t putting any kind of restrictions on who I can work for, or how I present myself in public. As far as my contract with GR goes, I am still free to act as Lead Developer of SGG and as a freelancer in the industry. Green Ronin is about making great games, not about restricting it’s employees creativity. Obviously I need to take my priorities there seriously, but there should be plenty of time left for other pursuits.
That doesn’t mean something might not change about my relationship with any of the groups I write for at some point in the future. I’m always examining how I handle my career, and just as conditions seemed right to join Super Genius, write for some Kickstarter projects, or start the Demiplane of Gaming with Steve Russell, at some point I might decide I need to change my involvement with those endeavors. But if I do it’ll be a result of my analysis of what’s best for both those projects and my own career, not a result of some restriction from the GR crew.
I plan to remain very active on these boards, so while it’ll take me time to get up to speed eventually I’ll be free to talk (at least some) about GR’s future Pathfinder product plans.
To celebrate my arrival in Great Falls, Montana (as a guest of the Great Falls Gaming Rendezvous!), and to make up for the fact I was on the road Tuesday and didn’t do a Top Ten then, I present:
Top Ten Things I Didn’t Know About Montana Before Getting Here.
10. The highways adjacent to large plains often have massive reinforced snow fences, designed to get snowdrifts to build on the fence instead of blowing across or piling up on the road.
9. NO sales tax.
8. *Wisconsin* cheese soup is amazing prevalent.
7. Elk are a big deal up here. Like, 1.4 elk per square mile.
6. Montana is nicknamed The Treasure State. As a result, I plan to begin to refer to the act of fantasy characters wandering through dungeons to kill things and take their stuff as ‘Montana-ing”. (The state’s motto Oro y Plata means gold and silver.)
5. The state’s name is derived from the Spanish word montaña, meaning mountain. (Wait, this state is Treasure Mountain? This IS a Pathfinder campaign setting!)
4. It is illegal to have a sheep in the cab of your truck without a chaperone. (Seriously. http://www.cnn.com/2007/LIVING/wayoflife/12/26/unusual.laws/)
3. They have Dutch Caramel Waffle Cookies.
2. The Hot Dog Express is often found adjacent to the Town Pump.
1. Before an establishment can get a gambling license, it must first have a liquor license. As a result, Bar/Casinos, Restaurant/Casinos, and even Liquor Store/Casinos are all common. As in, a dozen on every block common. Laundrymat/Casinos are slightly rarer, but multiple examples exist. (“At least when you lose your shirt, it’ll be clean!”)
On Monday, October the 28th I’ll turn 43. As a result, I will be hosting a “Dab and Gab” party, for painting miniatures, making plastic-milk-jug “Jug-o-Lanterns,” hanging out, talking, and eating birthday cake (and various other snacks). It’ll be at my home and if you’re reading this you are invited. (And if you don’t know where I live, send me an IM).
While birthday gifts will be welcome, your presence will be presents enough. I’ll have figures you can paint however you wish if you don’t have any of your own (and I certainly don’t mind having other people paint my figures), but also feel free to bring your own minis and supplies if you wish.
And if you just want to hang out with fellow geeks and not engage in any crafts, that’s fine too!
We’ll start around 6pm, and wrap up around 9pm. It should be a lot of fun! (And help take the sting out of my marking the span of my life moving one year closer to ending!)