andrewfoleywritesthings

[andrewfoleywritesthings]

Absolutely Gardnersonson & The Tomb of Annihilation, Week 7

Dear Mum — I swear this past tenday has been naught but a series of trials, many of which ended with guilty verdicts and a sentence of public flogging. After being told by the Naga at M’BALA to seek out RAZ NSI in the LOST CITY OF OMU (+ losing our guides, RIVER + FLASK, who I begin to suspect were either turned into flowers or not actually at the TEMPLE OF OROLUNGA when we left it—more on that later) + making the acquaintance of ARTUS + the saurial DRAGONBAIT, we proceeded on our quest to find the DEATH CURSE’s source (w.out retrieving 1 of the naga Guardian of Orolunga’s scales so that NANNY P’U-P’U could demonstrate the RITUAL OF STOLEN LIFE, I might add. The others didn’t seem as put off by this as I was—we traveled ALL THAT WAY seeking the scale + then we didn’t even TRY to get it. Mind you, the naga did seem rather attached to its scales, + I’m not sure I fancy our chances in a fight w. such a creature.) (I still think we could have at least tried.) (Some of the others—basically all the others—believe Nanny P’u-P’u is not a harmless old woman but in fact some evil creature that we oughtn’t be aiding in any event. Given some of the people we’ve aided in the past, I think this is overly judgmental, but overly judgmental behavior is hardly unusual, in Vikki, at least.) (1 might hope for a more open-minded outlook from Welyn + Sanna, but neither of them were in any rush to fulfill Nanny P’u-P’u’s request either.) we continued our trek south through Chult’s jungle.

I don’t know what it was about that night, Mum, but there was something about it + no denying it. I dreamt the most awful things—of a rough burlap sack leaning over me, w. the muffled whimpers of cousin Huzzah! coming from w.in. Through a hole in the bag, a terrier’s head poked through—normally a welcome sight, but this 1 had a bloody snout bloody + lolling tongue that unsettled me greatly. It didn’t unsettle me as much as the hissing viper that took its place in the bag’s hole, but of all the things in the sack (other than poor Huzzah!’s cries) that upset me, the black cockerel that appeared after the viper took the prize. I cannot say why it bothered me so, but the very thought of it crowing the dawn brings shivers even now. I thought the horrid spectacle at an end when I awoke, but I was wrong. From some nebulous place, I know not where, came the voice of 2 children, a boy + a girl’s, I believe, + another that I’d hesitate to even call half-orc, much less human or gnomish, sang the following verse: “Let never BAGGY NANNA snatch you up Nor quarrel w. her captive dreams The dog drags it out The viper bites + when the cock crows, screams!” I wasn’t the only 1 to suffer dreadful visions that night, either. It seemed everyone had an unsettled sleep. When I awoke, Dragonbait, whose turn at watch it was, was doing battle w. an invisible force. I thought it imaginary, but Welyn assured me there was some spectral presence there recently, though it was gone by this time, leaving a hazy trail visible only to the paladin’s eyes to mark its passage. The others had nightmare visions of their own to deal w.. Welyn’s involved a shadowy hag. Artus claimed not to know what had happened + refused to speak about it further, until Welyn described the shadowy hag of his dream. “That was THE WIDOW GROETE,” said Artus. “I do declare,” said Vikki, in that strange accent she insists on affecting, even here in Chult where NOBODY CARES. “If you don’t know what happened, how do you know the hag’s name?” Artus gave her a look that could chill an icicle. “I had a dream too,” he said, + then he really was well + truly done with the subject. It was then that I realized not all of my friends were accounted for. Welyn + Vikki + Dragonbait + Artus were fine, if a little shaken, + I’m reasonably sure I was there as well. But we could find neither hide nor hair of Sanna (you remember, the brutal Halfling I told you about? Her.). Her things were there, including some javelins + throwing axes Welyn can make use of, + her gold, which I’ve volunteered to hang onto until we can find her again, but Sanna herself? Gone, like a dream in the morning light. We searched the area for her, of course, but none of us, not I nor Vikki nor Welyn nor Dragonbait or even Artus could discern a usable trail. The haze Welyn saw shortly after we woke led south. As this was conveniently the direction we traveled anyway, we continued forward, hoping against all hope this horrid deathtrap of a jungle might cough up our Halfling friend sooner than later.

The days following Sanna’s loss were a dish of misery w. despair as gravy + just a soupcon of gloom, a minute but perfect quantity to turn an already dreadful slog through this steam bath of a jungle into something even more dire. The combination of heat + moisture was almost more than Welyn could bear, + the rest of us were little better. But 1 foot was put before the other, as it must be if we’re to solve the riddle of the Death Curse, avenge our friend TEKKA, + save our patron SINDRA SILVANE. Or even just survive. Things seemed to take a turn for the better, or at least more interesting, when I detected a rustling in the brush to my right. Naturally, I launched myself into the woods, hoping to find something more less tedious than heat exhaustion, + my efforts were rewarded—a plump, pink pig burst from the undergrowth! But this was no ordinary pig, Mum—This was… Dragon-Pig! Allow me to explain. The pig was no pig at all, but rather a golden Dragonborn sorcerer who had somehow been transformed into pig. It was Vikki who learned this. While the pig was far to big for me to converse w. in any sensible way (though it did shake its head when I asked if I could ride it), she can communicate w. animals of all sizes w. the proper spell. I must say, oinks + grunts suit Vikki’s personality to a T. I just mustn’t say it to her face. Apparently, the Dragonborn, whose name is Baravus + frequently pronounced wrong (unlike our lord Baravar Cloakshadow, Baravus prefers to emphasize his name’s second syllable, + the first A is all but silent. I’m trying to teach him the proper way to say his name, but I swear his scaly head is all but impervious to new ideas), was traveling to Port Nyanzaru to see dinosaurs firsthand when the airship bearing him there was attacked by another airship manned by skilled magicians clad all in red. That’s 2 more airships than I’ve ever had the good fortune to see, never mind ride in, which hardly seems fair, but what happened to Baravus was arguably even less fair. At some point he was, as I mentioned, transformed into a pig, + deposited in the jungle. He had the good fortune to be adopted by a singular of boars, + (reading between the lines) the misfortune to catch the eye of the passel’s mother sow. Baravus did not seem much interested in discussing this aspect of his adventures. Before we could learn any of this, + Baravus could be Restored to his true form by Vikki, we first had to deal w. the pack of dinonicuses that pursued the death-defying Dragon-Pig (how Baravus escaped the jaws of those beasts long enough to find us, I’ll never know.) Roast dinonicus tastes like crocodile.

Though Baravus was originally intending to travel to Port Nyanzaru in the north, he decided he fancied his chances of surviving the jungle more w. a party of 5 seasoned adventurers at his side, + so he joined us journeying south to (we hoped) the LOST CITY OF OMU. It occurred to me then that if Vikki could restore Baravus to his true form, might she have been able to do the same to River + Flask, if they were indeed the strange new flowers we found blooming outside the TEMPLE OF OROLUNGA after our interview w. the naga SAJA NABAZA. We could number 8 if we hadn’t inexplicably lost track of the 2 Tabaxi siblings while inside Orolunga. Another possibility has presented itself. If Baravus’ estimation is to be believed, we have somehow gained a tenday + half that again back. Not the food, you understand, but the time—I mean that either our day count is off by a mind-bogglingly high number, or we have somehow traveled backwards through time, which is also mind-boggling, in its own way. There was something odd about Orolunga—a sense of dislocation that occurred when we entered the temple. That dislocation could have been through time. Stranger things have happened. Dragonborn sorcerers being changed into pigs, for instance. You can’t make this stuff up. Whether River + Flask’s loss is floral, temporal, or otherwise in origin, the simple fact is they have been lost, along w. Sanna now. + we have Artus, Dragonbait, + Baravus in their place. Where was I? Where am I? + what in the 9 Hells am I doing here? Oh, right. Trying to save Sindra Silvane. If we did gain those days back, it’s good news for her. From the looks of her she had hours, not days to live when we left Nyanzaru, what, 3 tendays ago? More, most likely. But I can’t think of that now. It’s my + my friends’ survival that is of paramount importance.

It wasn’t so long after Baravus joined us that we were set upon by the newest undead horror this wretched place has inflicted upon us. We had traveled some hours, perhaps days—time is hard to track beneath the jungle’s canopy of leaves—through the gut-churning stench of rotted flesh. I suppose it was only a matter of time before some rotted flesh decided to attack us, + so it did, in the form of a horde of ravening blue monstrosities. In some ways they resembled zombies—they certainly possessed a zombie’s rank smell of death, if anything magnified beyond the typical zombie. They had pale blue skin + wide mouths + great lolling tongues like the 1 Uncle Feil sewed into that bag, you remember the 1 he fashioned to look like a mimic that I keep my dice in? They were that long (as long as a real mimic’s, not as long as the dice bag mimic—that would admittedly be impressive, in an altogether different + substantially less horrifying way) + their smiles were horrifying rictus grins seemingly wider than the faces that bore them, w. no sense of mirth whatsoever. Having been awoke by Welyn, I sprang into action, watching Dragonbait situate himself between us + the 3 vile creatures attacking the camp. Naturally, I assisted w. some well-placed arrows—before a previously unnoticed 4th BLUE SMILY set upon me, w. another 3 close behind it! I gazed into the maw of Death Itself, Mum, + it smelled just awful. As Baravus unleashed a spray of hellish flame upon our attackers, I dropped my bow + drew my rapier—yes, Mum, I know you’ve told me never to do that, but at the moment it seemed right. Then I tried to attack the abominations + realized that it is as you say, “Mother Is Always Right.” The moment was anything but right, but the die had been cast; it was too late to do anything but push forward, slashing the Smilies left + right as Welyn cut into them w. his glaive, Vikki bashed the putrid grey jelly that might once have been their brains out their skulls w. her holy shillelagh, Baravus tossed all manner of magicks in their stupid faces, Artus turned them into arrow pincushions, + Dragonbait hacked away w. his wonderful sword (but not his shield. I reminded him he had it during the battle, + he’s used it since, to our group’s and his own benefit.) (If I’m being perfectly honest, Mum, Artus + Dragonbait outclass the rest of us in practically every realm except conversation—more of us than Sanna would surely have been lost these past few days w.out their assistance.) After we won our hard-fought victory against the Blue Smilies, Vikki + some of the others buried their moldering corpses. Baravus suggested burning as a preferable way to deal w. the undead, but Vikki’s precious god Sylvanus apparently doesn’t think highly of fires in his forests, even when the forests are more accurately called jungles. I wonder who put the stick up the nature god’s arse. Maybe it was no stick, but rather a branch, still attached to the tree. By Vikki’s telling, Sylvanus would find that preferable.

More trudging through the mud, more hacking through the foliage, more drudgery, + then, finally, something interesting. The rain + thunder kept the others from noticing the commotion in the distance, but my keen gnome’s ears rose to the occasion. Clearly Something was smashing through the jungle a hundred feet ahead (possibly more) + some to the left of us. Something Big. Something w. a roar that rivaled the thunder itself. Of course I had to go see what it was. Baravus accompanied me, valiantly preceding me by ten feet or so as I crept like an invisible cat through the undergrowth. The roars grew louder, + it was around this time I determined there was more than 1 behemoth involved—rather it seemed that 2 or more giant animals were engaged in a titanic struggle. Baravus had come a long was to see dinosaurs, but as we neared the source of those terrible bellowing roars, his blood ran cold. Are Dragonborn cold-blooded to begin w.? I don’t know, I’ll have to ask Baravus that when I finish writing this letter. In any event, he stopped before he saw the very thing he was in Chult to see. I did not. + so it was that I, + I alone, saw the thunder lizard feasting on its adversary’s corpse. It was an awe-inspiring sight, Mum! 2 stories in height (5 in gnome stories), w. teeth like the sharpened stalactites, it gorged itself on the bloody innards of its foe, roaring to itself louder than Great-Uncle Figgus at the Gardnersonson’s 712th family reunion. Seeing such brutal majesty at close range made the journey seem worth it, at least for those few seconds that I watched the creature. Then it was back into the pouring rain to suggest the others (who are, shall we say, not so light on their feet as my own sly self) NOT view the glorious terror of the thundersaur but instead slowly + QUIETLY make their way in the opposite direction.

Dinosaurs are just 1 of the dangers lurking in the jungle. Chult’s flora is as deadly as its fauna, + it doesn’t announce itself w. earth-shattering howls to warn you its about to make a meal of you. It was another hour in another day of our trek to Omu when Baravus abruptly collapsed in front of me. I was about to rush to his aid when I, too, was felled by some unseen force. I wasn’t conscious for what happened next, but as the others tell it, Welyn + Vikki dragged me away from the yellow flower that they believe was responsible for my unexpected respite from consciousness, as a second flower, this 1 orange, vomited sap onto Baravus before Artus + Dragonbait moved to help him. In short order both Baravus + I were awake once again, but the Dragonborn suffered sap damage (it burned like acid before Vikki conjured some water to wash it away), as did his fine silken clothing. Such a waste.

Speaking of waste, it wasn’t long after this that someone stole my feather cloak + the batiri mask I’d acquired at no little risk to myself in the night. I thought it might be Dragonbait, but that was mostly after I ate a furry fruit he offered me, something that made me a little paranoid + twitchy. Me, twitchy! Can you imagine such a thing? But I was. Also I’m pretty sure the saurial beaned me w. a coconut not too long ago. I must admit I am significantly more comfortable wearing only the armour I purchased in Port Nyanzaru, but it is still a shame to lose such finery. The mask I was never that fond of, but it’s the principle of the thing, isn’t it?

A plume of smoke in the distance told me we were drawing near to the Peaks of Flame, which I’ve wanted to see since 7 or so seconds after I heard of them. I mean, who wouldn’t want to climb an active volcano? The added advantage in this situation is that doing so would take us above the jungle, letting us get a better sense of our surroundings +, hopefully, give us some idea of THE LOST CITY OF OMU’s location. The others agreed w. me (what choice did they have, really?) + so we set off. But before we could reach even our first Peak of Flame, we found something I suspect will prove much more interesting. The Lost City of Omu is lost no more, Mum! We found it lurking in a depression in the ground. ‘Tis a deep depression; from the edge of the cliff where we stood it was 150 feet or more straight down into the foggy smoke or the smoky fog that envelops the entire sorry place. As depressions go, it’s pretty great—in truth the greatest depression I’ve ever seen, + so I dubbed it The Big Depression. It seemed to merit its own name, + “Omu Hole” just didn’t have the same ring to it. We weren’t the only ones looking down upon the city, either. Some ways off a stone gargoyle was perched on the cliff’s edge, exactly where you wouldn’t expect someone to carve a stone gargoyle. I found this curious, + immediately set off to examine the thing. While I was doing so, 5 other gargoyles swooped in from above (remember the time “Uncle” Bits swooped in from below? That was something). 2 of the grim gliders carried a net—they tried to carry off Dragonbait. You may recall that I’d reminded him he possessed a shield during our battle w. the Blue Smilies, + he wisely remembered that during this encounter. As great as he is w. his sword (the 1 he ALWAYS CARRIES—he has no sheathe for the bloody thing. Just asking for trouble, really, but there’s no talking to some people + especially people who speak partly w. scents. This isn’t like Uncle Fine + his many-hued farts either, Mum. The Saurial produces some wonderful smells. There are times when I’m a little peckish + he smells like sweet apple turnovers that I could practically eat him), he’s even better using the blade in concert w. his shield. He ducked under the net + the danger from the first 2 gargoyles sailed past (for a time). Which left the danger of the other 3 gargoyles flying in from the north. Correction: the other 4 gargoyles. Before I even had a chance to reach the 1 on the cliff + see what was in its permanently gaping maw, it turned + attacked, taking me completely by surprise. I managed to escape its stony claws + valiantly took cover, providing my friends much-needed cover w. my shortbow (I don’t know how much longer the bow will be of use, I’m down to less than twenty arrows now. Unless Omu has a fletcher, it may be some time before I’m able to acquire more.) The net-bearing gargoyles sailed in again, this time from the southwest. They nearly snared Baravus, but a hastily erected magical shield kept his feet firmly upon the ground (do Dragonborn call their feet feet, or claws? I’m so discombobulated by Baravus, Mum, I feel like everything I say to him is fraught w. inadvertent insult. He’s taken to ignoring me as much as he can—Normally it takes people a tenday or more till they start ignoring the pearls of wisdom I bestow. Still, 1 must do what 1 can for 1’s friends, in the hopes that 1 will someday be appreciated. I’m the 1, by the way. As you may have guessed, I survived the fray, as did my friends (Vikki was a close call) + 2 gargoyles w. the net, which flew off to the north + will doubtless never bother us again. + now we find ourselves nearing the heart of the Death Curse that seemingly plagues all of Toril w. the possible exception of Nanny P’u-P’u. If we were to try + make our way into Omu as the crow flies, we’d doubtless get there as the gnome drops 150 feet to his death. So we’re instead heading to the southwest, where 1 can approach the city in a slightly less plummetous way. If I’m correct, we shall find ourselves at the Gates of Omu in short order, + soon after that we’ll have dealt w. the Death Curse + be done w. this place. If I’m correct. Which, as you know, I occasionally am.

I hope this letter finds you well, Mum. I expect I’ll see you + the rest of the family soon, but if I don’t, please send them all my love, even cousin Grumble. Yes, I even miss the svirfneblin branch of the family tree. A little. Also, could you check + make sure Huzzah! is doing all right? Maybe tell him to avoid burlap sacks w. blood-soaked menageries in them while you’re at it. Love, Absolutely

[andrewfoleywritesthings]

Absolutely Gardnersonsonson, Jr. III and the Tomb of Annihilation, Week 3

I’ve been playing D&D again for the first time in a few years. I missed it more than I realized. After yesterday’s session I wrote the following recap in character as Absolutely “Abso” Gardnersonson Jr. III, a great-nephew of Siege of Dragonspear’s Glint “Three-Eyes” Gardnersonson:

Dear Mum — There was a plan, of that much I’m certain. I’m not sure what happened to it, but fear not! All turned out for the best. It’s my turn at watch + I’m bored. I woke WELYN up – he’s usually fairly entertaining, but alas, he seems even more determined to sleep than usual. So I write to you, my favourite mother, instead. After saving scores of people at the TEMPLE OF TYMORA from a veritable horde of skeletons + zombies, I + each of my friends received a jug of a delightful mead-like beverage I may have partaken slightly too much of. My cleric friend VICCI was also given a potion of some sort. I want to drink it. While this was happening, we observed a fellow observing us. As soon as he realized we’d observed his observation (I think my waving to him might have given it away), this fellow vanished before our very eyes! It was quite a thing to see, and then not see, if you get my meaning. A different fellow, who turned out to be ESHEK, ACOLYTE OF SAVRAS, showed up, looking like he drank more tench than I was about to. He told Vicci we should seek the “Wise Guardian of Oralunga, east of Maballa”. Eshek then proceeded to sober up at unprecedented speed + promptly forgot what he’d done the last 12 hours. We escorted Eshek to Savras’ temple in the northern part of PORT NYARANZARU, where we consulted with the temple’s leader, GRANDFATHER Z’TEMBE. We told the good Grandfather we sought the necromantic device responsible for the DEATH CURSE. He told us he would seek wisdom from his god – I think Savras is a god, if not She’s most likely a goddess – and that we should return the next day to receive that wisdom. We bought the supplies we needed from the Souk + saw dinosaur races. Welyn won some gold, Sanna lost some. I broke even, because I didn’t have enough gold to gamble with + besides, gambling w. gold’s silly. You can buy things w. gold, like Chultan leather armor, which I actually had just bought, which is why I had no gold to gamble w. Then back to our quarters at the House of Repose. Well, I went to our quarters. I’d had perhaps a little too much tench in the previous hours. My friends, on the other hand, met the vanishing fellow from Tymora’s temple, whose name is ROKA. Which reminds me of Aunt Cousin Mathilda’s almond roka. That is my favourite roka. This new roka is my fourth favourite roka, at best. I’m still not sure what to make of him. I rid myself of the tench, but could not shake a stench. If you ever have the opportunity to smell turtle man slurry, I highly recommend you find someone else to take it. Unfortunately, the tortle slurry was MUDCRAW – you remember, the one who did the thing with his head that was going to guide us? He had a room down the hall from our own. When I examined his shell, I discovered a medallion of the OTEMKA (triceratops) SOCIETY – an organization everyone in Chult seems to know about despite the fact that it’s damnably hard to get anyone to talk about. The medallion is a curious item to have found – apparently the Society usually leaves them as a warning prior to doing something as harsh as melting someone inside their shell. Perhaps a new recruit was a little overeager, like Old Shine was w. the basilisk (I still can’t believe he did that + survived!) (!!!). I learned about the Otemka Society from Roka, who, as I said, had made arrangements w. my friends. Those arrangements turned out to revolve around me – They agreed that I would create a distraction at the Flaming Fist’s Fort Something or Other (forgive me, Mum, the tench has made this a little blurry). This distraction would lure those inside the main keep outside, allowing Roka to sneak into the keep to perform a service for his employers. This Roka’s a cagey fellow. Despite some stunningly clever questioning of him by me, I couldn’t determine who Roka’s employers are. This seemed to make me more uneasy than it does my friends – how often does that happen? Before we rendezvoused w. Roka, we returned to the Temple of Savras, where Grandfather Z’tembe told us he’d been blessed w. a vision of a jungle city far to the south. This city, according to him, is surrounded by cliffs + filled w. snakes. Like, a lot of snakes. In the city there is a black obelisk, shrouded in vines. He believes we were right to seek the Death Curse’s source in Chult. Actually, it was our employer SINDRA SILVANE who was right, but that’s neither here nor butter. Despite my misgivings, I agreed to take part in Roka’s scheme. In exchange we would be provided w. a FLAMING FIST charter of Chultan passage, as well as the services of 2 experienced guides should we succeed in aiding Roka in accomplishing his mysterious goals. The journey to Fort Thingie took longer than expected. During it we encountered a wild dinosaur at unnervingly close range + saw 3 aaracokra – I remember Huzzah! telling me of such birdmen when he returned from the east last midwinter. They sounded most interesting, but alas they kept their distance, a distance too distant for me to get to know them to any useful degree. We arrived at Fort Whatsit + examined the area, determining that the best option to pull people from the keep would be to free the horses – the first horses we’d seen since arriving in Chult, mind you. It seemed a good idea at the time. Before executing our cunning plan, we scoped out the keep I mean we got our charter from the CASTELLAN in the keep. While there I located a bell rope that, through an act of supreme gnomish will, I managed not to pull. For a time. Having received our charter, it was agreed that we should execute our clever scheme. Vicci got the horses worked up, convincing them their imminent future involved a glue factory. After that I slapped some rumps + got them stampeding – as much as seven horses can stampede – out of the stable. Having freed the horses, I made my way into the keep to ensure the plan had worked. SANNA accompanied me in this effort. She’s a good sort for a barbarian and certainly some sort for a halfling. The plan had, in fact, not worked. Realizing the hold was far from empty, we made our way to the bottom of the belltower + closed the door. Sanna + I had a minor disagreement over our course of action, which, despite her best efforts, involved my pulling the bell rope twice before being pulled away from the bell rope by force. Sanna wanted to drag me from the keep, but that wasn’t going to work – the Fists that remained inside, including the Castellan, were upon us in an instant. I thought quickly because there was no time to think any other way. “The horses!” I screamed. “They’ll kill us! They’ll kill us all!” My performance was pitch perfect + Sanna’s got the job done. Rather than killing or confining us in the stockade, we were escorted from Fort Thatplaceoverthere. I don’t know what happened to Vicci + Welyn while Sanna + I executed the plan I’m reasonably sure we all agreed upon, but by late afternoon we found them back where we’d stored the canoe. Did I mention we rode a canoe most of the way to the fort? We did. I slept under it. Comfy. Around midnight Roka returned to the canoe. He advised me not to return to the fort. I’ve already seen the fort + frankly, outside of the bell + the dinosaur pen, it has little to recommend it, so why would I want to return? Other than to give the Flaming Fist the half of whatever treasure we discover. I wonder if the Castellan would rather see me less than she would like to see half of whatever we manage to procure, assuming we manage to procure anything other than mad monkey fever. Our group has adopted the name Mad Monkey Fever, by the way. Did I tell you that earlier? Well if I didn’t, we did. Mad Monkey Fever, that’s us. Come morning we’ll begin the journey back to Port Nyanzaru. There, Roka will introduce us to his guide friends, whose services on our behalf he’s agreed to pay for. Yawn. I believe my time watching over the party is nearing an end. I’ll wake Vicci in a moment, but first, there’s something I must get off my chest: As a rule death doesn’t worry me overmuch, but as a rule death is not so permanent as current circumstances have made it. For the first time in my life I’m more afraid to die than I am to live – I can think of nothing less gnomish than that. I can’t let the others know, of course. As their leader they rely on me to keep their morale up – I must show no fear + so I shan’t. But I am afraid, Mum. Afraid I may not see you or Huzzah! or cousin Bent or Auntie Beryl or any of my friends other than the friends I have w. me now ever again. The other options available suit me even less than this one I’ve chosen, however. So I shall keep marching forward, putting one foot before the other as I continue walking this path we call ADVENTURE! Love, your favourite son, Absolutely Post-script – I got one of those feather cloaks I told you about in my last letter! (I think Vicci actually looks better in hers, but I’d never tell her that. Her head’s quite big enough as it is.)

[andrewfoleywritesthings]

Sometimes you run across something you’d completely forgotten about and it is *glorious*.

The curse (lulz the puns) of digital art is that you can keep picking at it. Some more colors all up ins. 

[andrewfoleywritesthings]

I need to take a moment and just say how much I love Beamdog for saying they’re including Story Mode in Siege of Dragonspear.  I can’t even begin to tell you how wonderful that is for me as a disabled gamer.  The fact that they actually took disabled people into account when they made that decision endears me to them even more.

[andrewfoleywritesthings]

Originally the first sketch was a joke I doodled  down on the corner of a painting, while the lore of Dragonspear castle was being explained to me. (Daeros Dragonspear like to ride around on his dragon friend’s back and stab goblins… wow… what a jerk.) Surprisingly, I was asked to turn the sketch into a floor mosaic, to be used in game on the castle Dragonspear floor. My sketch was later suggested to be used for the emblem of that game, with some tweaking of course. The other Baldur’s Gate and IWDEE both use medallions/emblems, so sure why not. Nat, our other 2d artist here at Beamdog, made a rough medallion painting using my sketch and some textures. I went back over it, painted it over and we ended up with neat brass color medallion with a red center. Sadly the brass color did not mesh well with the SOD UI I created for the game. The decision was then made to desaturate the metal looking parts and repaint certain aspects of the dragon and Daeros’ armor. I added a few dents/scratches, repaired the armor and made a few minor corrections to the dragon’s wings and head. This is the version I consider the “clean version” and it’s used often on websites and for large printings. However in game, it still did not look right. Alan Miranda, one of our Producers, suggested that I really dirty it up, add more cracks and dirt, because it’s been around (according to the lore) for a long time and should look like it’s been through a lot, and that’s where we get our final emblem design used in game. I didn’t want to go too overboard with dirtying  it up because too many details can get lost. These images are small and simply do not do any justice to the emblem, sorry about that. I also Included image of where else the emblem is being used, such as a dev. coin and on a giant mock up of a box product from the announcement party. You can find out more about Baldur’s Gate: Enhanced Edition Siege of Dragonspear over here.

[andrewfoleywritesthings]

Some thoughts on Tokyopop and the comic business in general

Gather round. Tokyopop are doing portfolio reviews at this year’s SDCC and as a creator who managed to complete two series with them before they went bankrupt* previously, I have some things to say about this. Should you, young aspiring creator, go and have your portfolio reviewed by them? Should you enter a Rising Stars of Manga contest, if they run them again? I can’t honestly tell you. That’s your decision to make, based on a whole bunch of factors specific to you that are none of my damn business.

I did not have a terrible time at Tokyopop. I got paid. Both my series made it to completion (although with Kat & Mouse, I had to call a rights-reversion clause on them to get them to cough up book 4). My editors were fantastic. (The Tokyopop editors generally were – and don’t take my word for it, many of them went on to great things elsewere. Just off the top of my head, Mark Paniccia’s currently heading the X-Office at Marvel; Paul Morrissey runs Jet City at Amazon; Tim Beedle is at DC; and Erin Stein has her own YA/MG imprint at one of the big four prose publishers.)

The editors were never the issue. Stu Levy was. The contracts were abominable too, but I’ll get to those in a sec. First, Stu, aka DJ Milky, aka Tokyopop’s founder. Stu was a fabulous entrepreneur, but terrible at running a business. Tokyopop was full of great ideas and almost none of them were followed through with any rigor or consistency. Each was shuffled off incongruously to gather dust in a corner when the next big idea came through.

The first great idea was simple enough: bring over the best Japanese manga to the US. The market exploded! Suddenly, there were stories for girls, and all ages, and all the folks that even then (pre Hunger Games, kids. Hell, it was pre Twilight!) prose publishers were kinda ignoring… not even touching what mainstream comics had for girls, which was precisely fuck all. (Want a laugh? Image-google “Mark Millar Trouble”. That was Marvel’s reaction to the Manga boom.)

But then, the good manga started getting expensive. And along came Viz and Dark Horse and others, bidding up licence costs. Fantastic! Let’s develop original English manga and have manga contests and publish US writers and artists! And several well-known, star creators of today (Becky Cloonan, Sophie Campbell, Amy Reeder, Felipe Smith) had early work published by Tokyopop.

And that would have been great, if they had really focused on growing that line, and continuing to curate a great quality list of Japanese and Korean licenced books. But… no. Audio plays! Shorter, young-reader manga (like my Kat & Mouse, they launched four short middle grade manga then totally forgot about them. One was by JM DeMatteis, if I recall right, so at least I was in good company.) Manga chapter books – another line thrown at the wall and instantly forgotten. Movie deals in negotiation! A syndicated newspaper deal! MERCHANDISING!

At this point, Stu was a star! But the manga boom had begun to bust. Partially it was due to a creeping attitude at Tokyopop, in the managerial positions, of disdain towards their readers. Heck, those kids would read any old crap we can licence from Japan or Korea! Why bother with expensive licences? Let’s just shovel cheap stuff at them! Meanwhile, the OEL books were not selling, because they had zero marketing support and were tainted by association with the far lower quality of licenced books Tokyopop was importing at the time. Plus, otaku wanted Japanese. OEL was a big culture change in otakuland, and even many OEL creators weren’t buying or reading other OEL books. Plus, many of these creators were young and finding it much harder than they expected to draw an entire 180-page book at twenty five dollars a page (yep) and were blowing through deadlines, which also didn’t help. (We’re getting to contracts, I promise).

Thus, while Tokyopop was apparently at its most successful to the outside world, with manga sections in bookstores that were a dozen feet long, and Wired running a hilariously ill-timed Stu Levy cover, the company was actually in freefall. The company failed because 1) management, consciously or not, looked down on their teenage customers and did not respect them as intelligent, discerning readers; and 2) rather than doing one or two things really well, it did 25 things in half-assed, terrible ways. Those manga sections were 12 feet long because of the giant piles of crap being shoveled at audiences who were too damn smart to buy them any more.

Then (and partially due to that), the bookstore chain Borders hit the skids, everyone’s cash flow it the floor for like six months and started to dig, and Tokyopop cancelled OEL books left right and centre, and also stopped paying creators. Oh, all our OEL books except Sophie’s are on Comixology but has anyone gotten a statement from Tokyopop about those digital sales? Anyone? Hello? Bueller?

Do we think Stu has learned anything in the intervening years? Is this a kinder, gentler, smarter Tokyopop? Has he paid any of the back money the company owes to creators, or given them their rights back? Remember, Stu is a wonderful ideas guy. I am quite sure New Tokyopop will be an automatic Buzzword Bingo win: creator-friendly; crowdfunded; multi-platform; digital-first, blah blah blah.

Also remember: Stu is a terrible implementations guy. Every new idea for him is The One, the green light, the concept that will take his company stratospheric, will re-make his name and fortune. It’s almost blessedly childlike, except for the way he discards the old ideas and old people, who failed him, who didn’t work, and whose fault all this clearly is.

And now a word about contracts and pay. I’m not going to discuss the specifics of the Tokyopop contracts, but I am gong to teach you the three R’s of freelance contracts: rights, royalties, and reversions. Note: I am not a lawyer, and none of this should be construed as legal advice.

REVERSIONS is the most common way creators get screwed out of their stuff. It’s where DC got Alan Moore, and it’s why many of us Tokyopop creators never got our books back even though Tokyopop went bankrupt. What’s reversion? It means when and under what circumstances does ownership of your book go back to you, the person that created it. (But Alex! I only sign CREATOR-OWNED contracts – shush, child, and keep reading.)

The two most common reversion clauses in contracts say you will get the rights back when 1) the book goes out of print (ask Alan Moore how that worked out for him) and/or 2) if the rightsholder goes bankrupt. The out of print clause is actually the preferable one, but it has to be worded in a very specific way to keep companies from indulging in the sort of jiggery-pokery DC did with Watchmen, keeping it deliberately in print to retain rights, even at a loss. Also, “in print” is a meaningless statement in an increasingly digital era. How does anything go out of print? Instead, look to phrase the reversion clause so that if sales of the book drop below 1,000 units per year, the rights revert to you.. You can also use a dollar amount rather than a unit amount. Your lawyer will have an opinion on this.

You absolutely do NOT want the bankruptcy option bcause that’s how Tokyopop kept rights (and Platinum Studios, and everyone else in the Comics Dipshits Hall of Shame). Lemme ‘splain: your company is about to go bankrupt and creditors are circling. You have a bunch of stuff that’s not worth much money (office furniture, old computers) and then you have these comic book IPs that you spent a lot of money on, and you’re convinced you will get a movie deal with at any moment. So you call up a friend or relative and sell them all the ownership in all this IP for a fiver. Then, later on, you buy them back off him for $100. Totally legal! Dudes: by the time a creative company actually hits bankruptcy, all the IP assets are always already out the door. And the contract you have (the shitty, shitty contract) stays intact and transfers to the new owner.

Meanwhile, Stu wants creators to pay back the full amount of advances and editorial costs to get rights back (or at least that’s what he told me with Kat & Mouse) BUT my IP was not part of the Tokyopop bankruptcy (none of the OEL was, to my knowledge) which means he already wrote down all those costs when he shuffled the assets around in the traditional game of pre-bankruptcy monte.

That, folks, is why reversion-on-bankruptcy clauses are a surefire way of kissing your work goodbye for-fucking-ever. Also, more insight into Stu!

RIGHTS. There are all sorts of rights, and this is where I want to pat the head of children who talk to me about how they only do creator-owned and ask them who holds the foreign translation rights for their books, or TV/Film, or merchandising. Folks: if you got no money up front and the company took foreign rights (especially without royalty, see below), all of publishing in perpetuity (except for reversion on bankruptcy, oh yeah), and 50% or more of film, you do not have a very good creator-owned deal.

But, you kow, that can be okay. We all sign at least two bad deals in this business, and it’s often the first two. The people that will take you straight out of art school (or off tumblr) and give you pennies to draw your comic are the people who will screw you. In some ways you have to put out the book with folks like that so you can use it to get gigs at the companies that won’t screw you.

(But they still try it. LORD how they try it. I had a guy from an upstart publisher tell me cold last week that NO publisher EVER offered advances for creator owned work, and the best I could hope for was no advance and giving up half of film. He said it so firmly f I was a newbie, I’d be inclined to believe it. But I have four creator owned series on the go and they all have advances, so I know this guy was just trying to be an exploitative asshat.)

Whoops, went on a bit of a tangent there. The usual-ish indie ontract takes 50% of publishing profit, and they try to take foreign translation rights (eg the right to negotiate/sell them) – this is not such a big deal; unless you have an agent the publisher will probably do a better job than you… but make sure you also get a similar split of profits as you do for domestic publishing.

And now to film, the great white hope of the crappy publisher. Should you give up a % of film? Again, this comes down to personal preference and your own circumstances. I’m hardline, and will never give up any of film, so there are only certain publishers I’ll work for. And I still get advances.

The problem is, as a n00b, your book probably isn’t going to sell more than about 2,000 copies, which means that it hasn’t even reached the circa 4-4.5k breakeven of a book with no advance at all. So that’s why publishers do that “take 50% of film” thing. Nobody’s ever going to make any money on your book – not you, not them – but somebody might get rich if yours is the successful sprout at the IP farm. Like I said, the early deals are the bad deals, and your untested ability to sell books is partially why.

Try to negotiate. Be polite. Be aware that they may say “it’s my way or the highway”, and that self publishing is a lot less fun than some of its boosters make it out to be. (But then Greg Pak’s just had to create an entire pre-order system for his next creator-owned book, because comics distribution and marketing is THAT broken. So be aware that even if you’re published, you’re still self-publishing in a way.)

Be very wary, last of all, of publishers with film production sister companies. Remember the whole “sell the IP to your buddy for a fiver” thing we discussed up in bankruptcy reversion? Yyyup. We all sorta cheer for our fellow creators when they get optioned, but the dirty truth is that can be a check for $1-5,000 on promises of a big tomorrow that will never come. I’m not saying all publisher/production companies are like this, but I would be DAMN sure to get an entertainment lawyer with a strong knowledge of current option ranges in to fight my corner if I was in that sort of situation.

Oh god, and never agree to a shopping agreement, but that’s a whole ‘nother story. In general, just remember anybody with a cellphone can call themselves a producer, and you don’t want some dipshit giving you $500 then clumsily using your name and your book as his greasy calling-card all over Tinseltown. They have to pay, friends. If they’re serious and they’re worthwhile, they can pay. They need you more than you need them.

ROYALTIES. At last. This is mainly a work-for-hire issue as if you are going creator-owned you are talking % ownership and profits… though some foreign rights deals are % royalty thing. Folks, let me be very clear here: when things are not going well for you, and no rain has fallen in your career for some time, it is the unexpected royalty check from new German hardback edition of your brief stint on CAPTAIN PATRIOT or MERCENARY VENGEANCE GUY that will pay your grocery bill. If you are doing work for hire (and there are many great reasons to do it – from a childhood love of the characters, to wanting to work with fun people, to boosting your fanbase for your creator-owned work) for the love of Chthulhu, GET ROYALTIES.

Yes Virginia, there are work for hire contracts out there where all you get is a check and a peck on the cheek. Dassit. And I’m talking major properties that kids are dyyyying to work on. The kind where young artists at cons tell me they’d draw a variant cover FOR FREE (Seriously, stop it with that. Get paid, for everything, or you’ll never make it in this industry.) Your story comes out in trade? No more money. It comes out in French? Still no more money. They’ll send you these gorgeous hardback editions of your stuff, and you’ll look at it, and there will be no check. (Sometimes they don’t even send you the book.) And again, we all have rent to pay. We’ve all taken that one and done gig because $1500 now was really quite necessary. All I’m saying is, it isn’t a good idea to make your career out of that.

As you navigate the difficult path of being a comics pro, you will be faced with almost Faustian bargains on a regular basis throughout your time in the industry. As I say, we’ve all signed bad deals. We’ve all taken quick-hit gigs under not the best of terms for a rapid check. Just beware of getting into situations where you are paid almost nothing and much is taken from you. Be especially wary of companies with no, or with poor track records. Every few years, a company pops up that is going to be the next big thing, and then it explodes, usually messily, in a fury of unpaid invoices and missing art. But we can be thankful that the world is a very different place than when Tokyopop was in its heyday – we all still read manga, but it’s only a small selection of good stuff that is brought over, rather than mountains of dreck. There are a lot more options for young creators with a variety of styles to get into comics now – such as the open submissions at small but well-respected houses like Oni. There are several genuinely good indie publishers out there, with honest management and fair contracts. And you have much more ability to simply do it by yourself without a publisher, from Kickstarter to Comixology Submit.

So, should you show your portfolio to Stu Levy at San Diego?

My answer is, why would you need to?

[andrewfoleywritesthings]

Calgary Expo 2015 - Where Andrew Will Be This Weekend

The short answer is Palomino H Conference Room. Details of the panels I’ll be appearing on (Writing 101, organized by Dave Gross) and the ones I’ll be moderating are below.

Jim Zub's Writing-Pitching Panel

Friday April 17, 5:30 pm. Palomino H

Jim Zub of Skullkickers, Samurai Jack, and Pathfinder fame teaches the intricacies of bringing your original ideas to publishers the right way. Bring your own ideas to work with!

World-Building

Saturday April 18 11:30 am, Palomino H

Ever wonder what it takes to create a world?  Seasoned creator guests discuss how they turned their imaginations into worlds with societies and laws that both entertain and make you return to read more.

Panelists: Conor McCreery, Camila d'Errico, Jim Zub, Ryan Ferrier

Writing 101: Making the Super Seem Natural

Saturday April 18, 4:30 pm. Palomino H

Whether your story includes wizards, ghosts, vampires, or other supernatural elements, you want to make them believable even as you create a sense of wonder. Our panel of authors and editors offer tips and anecdotes to help you blend the magical and the mundane.

Panelists: Margaret Curelas, Andrew Foley, Dave Gross (M), SG Wong

Writing 101: Maintaining a Dialogue

Sunday April 19, 11:30am. Palomino C

Without actors to provide your characters with an audible voice, you need to use the tools of printed language to bring their dialogue to life. Our panelists share their secrets and offer examples from their favorite writers on how to create written dialogue that expresses character without the benefit of an actor. 

Panelists: Andrew Foley, Dave Gross (M), Axel Howerton, SG Wong.

The Ins and Outs of Indie Comics

Sunday April 19, 1:00 pm. Palomino H

We all love Indie Comics but do you understand where they came from, what they mean to the fans, and where they may be going.  This panel will tell all or die trying.  Maybe!!! (C)

Panelists: Tyler Jenkins, Ryan Ferrier, Ashley Witter

Writing 101: Editing Yourself and Others

Sunday, April 19, 3:00 pm. Palomino H

From both sides of the author-editor relationship, our panelists offer tips on how to remain open to change while preserving your vision. 

Panelists: Margaret Curelas, Andrew Foley, Dave Gross (M), Axel Howerton.

[andrewfoleywritesthings]

The Helpful Folks at The Alberta Motor Association

On the one hand, I feel really terrible about giving the women behind the counter at the AMA such a hard time this afternoon. They were just doing their jobs, I know they were just doing their jobs, it's not really their fault and I did apologize after ranting at them for some time about how what their jobs required them to do in this instance was causing me considerable distress for no good reason.

On the other hand, I'm honestly surprised there aren't more mass shootings.

The end--well, actually the middle--result of my making multiple peoples' lives miserable while I tried to wrap my brain around what still seems to me utterly nonsensical is the following e-mail I sent to Tiina a few minutes ago:

Tiina-- So I went to put the new sticker on the license plate and in addition to just plain not sticking, it also broke into three pieces. So I went to AMA to replace it, seeing as they supplied the first one that broke into three pieces and I figured hey, I just joined them when we got the sticker replaced, I might as well use that, right? 

But even though I have an AMA membership tied with yours, let them see my drivers license, was willing to pay to replace the sticker they sold us that didn't stick and broke into three pieces, and explained that normally you would handle this sort of thing but you couldn't because you're in India for a month, they absolutely refused to give me another sticker to replace the one that we bought from them that broke into three pieces because replacing the sticker we bought from them that didn't stick and broke into three pieces will somehow be violating your privacy unless they get your signature and details on the attached form. I explained to them (repeatedly) that you were in India for a month and that as a result your access to things like e-mail, scanners, fax machines, etc. was dodgy at best and that I didn't really want to bother you with this while you're on vacation and had some difficulty understanding why I should have to, seeing as I had the sticker we'd previously purchased from them, the one that didn't stick and broke into three pieces, right there at the counter. One of the nice ladies at the counter suggested that if I forged your signature I could take the form to some other licensing place and get a replacement there, and though that's tempting I'd rather do this properly/legally, even though doing so may end up getting us fined because the sticker AMA sold us didn't stick and broke into three pieces and they won't replace it without you filling out the form attached and you're in India for a month so may not be able to fill out and send the attached form back for awhile.

However, if you do get a chance, could you please fill out the attached form and e-mail it to me and AMA, whose registry email address I'm CCing on this mail.

I love you, miss you, and am really sorry to bother you with this shit while you're on your vacation in India.

A -- The information in this email is confidential and may be legally privileged, but it probably isn't. Let's be realistic, here. It's not like the sender knows nuclear weapon codes or anything. Anyway, if you believe you have received this email in error, please contact the sender. If you don't believe you received this email in error, please contact the sender anyway. He is a sad and lonely man.

[andrewfoleywritesthings]

[andrewfoleywritesthings]

Seriously, restaurant, I know you’re all fancy and shit, but there are rules to these things.

[andrewfoleywritesthings]

On the Subject of Me

So about a month ago, I was lucky enough to be on a  couple panels at the Edmonton Comics & Entertainment Expo with Dave Gross, Scott Bourgeois, and my fellow Beamdog writerAmber Scott. This meant Dave, who’d set the panels up, was unlucky enough to ask me for a brief, two-sentence bio.

This was problematic for a number of reasons. For a start, I’m not really good at brief, as anyone who’s watched me string fifteen tweets together into a single run-on sentence could attest to. For another, I’m really terrible at writing bios for myself.

Actually, that last thing isn’t true. I’m fantastic at writing bios for myself. I’m just terrible at taking them seriously. Which led to me inundating Dave with the following brief Andrew Foley biographies:

-Andrew Foley’s been paid to write almost everything but a novel. Comics, videogames, cartoons (well one cartoon), oxycontin prescriptions, he’s pretty much done it all, except for the novel, which Dave Gross has written, like seventeen of.

-Andrew Foley’s been a professional writer for over ten years. He’s written comics, short stories, animated films, more comics, and videogames, been paid for it more than once and paid well on at least three occasions.

-Andrew Foley co-wrote the comic book Cowboys & Aliens. There. I said it. Fuck you, Andrew.

-Andrew Foley wanted to be a painter but figured he’d make more money writing. He happened to be right, but he’s still an idiot.

-Andrew Foley wrote the comic books Done To Death, Parting Ways, and The Holiday Men, as well as material for a variety of media including videogames and animation. He also co-wrote the comic book Cowboys & Aliens, for which he is very, very sorry.

-Andrew Foley’s a pretty funny guy once you get to know him, but you probably won’t get to know him from this panel. Andrew would like to apologize in advance for being a miserable sourpuss and assure you he doesn’t really want to brutally slay every single one of you.

-Andrew Foley is a professional writer of comics, animation, and videogames who really needs to lose some weight. He’s not a healthy man.

-Andrew Foley is a professional writer, but not a professional speaker. You’ll see what I mean in a few minutes.

-Andrew Foley’s hair has been that colour since he was 15 years old. It has nothing to do with him being a writer, or so he claims.

-Andrew Foley is a professional writer who loves referring to himself in the third person. He’s a lovely person, is that Andrew Foley. First rate chap.

-Andrew Foley tried to obey Dave’s instructions to write a serious two-sentence bio for this panel. Did he succeed? The answer might surprise you.

****

Tumblr’s acting weird. This thing got posted when it was only half-written. Abort post! Abort post! Get out now!

[andrewfoleywritesthings]

Where I'll Be in the Next Two Weeks

Edmonton Expo for a couple panels this weekend and U of A's AUTHORPALOOZA next Friday. Come by, say hi, and tell me I sent you!

***

First, this Friday afternoon, there's Gaming Storytelling with superstar author/editor Dave Gross, m'writing colleague at Beamdog, Amber Scott, and award-winning podcaster Scott Bourgeois, whose name I'm absolutely certain I just misspelled (sorry, Scott.)

GAMING STORYTELLING

Room: Room 107 Start: 4:30PM End: 5:15PM

What lessons can writers learn from rolling a few d20s? And what elements of writing can apply to running a great role-playing game? Roll up your answers here!

***

Then on Saturday Dave and I will discuss the ups, downs, and way, way downs of

WRITING FOR LICENSED PROPERTIES

Room: Room 107 Start: 11:30AM End: 12:30PM

From Star Wars to the Forgotten Realms, big franchises include tie-in novels, comics, and games. This panel of tie-in writers discuss the challenges and opportunities of writing shared-world stories.

***

Then, a scant six days later on Friday October 3, I'll be taking part in the University of Alberta's first AUTHORPALOOZA, the brainchild of UofA's newest Writer in Residence, Minister Faust. I'll be there with musician Maria Dunn, poet Ahmed Knowmadic, and mystery writer & historian Wayne Arthurson.

https://twitter.com/MinisterFaust/status/514501290068832256/photo/1

***

Exciting times! I'm exhausted just reading this post. Time for a nap, I think. It's always time for a nap.

[andrewfoleywritesthings]

They really did.

The Shadow pulps had the best art

[andrewfoleywritesthings]

This Abandoned Traffic Jam Has Been Sitting Here For 70 Years And It’s Stunning. (x)

Right in the middle of a small forest near Chatillon, a little village in Southern Belgium, is a graveyard of abandoned and beautiful rusty cars. These cars once belonged to US soldiers who were stationed in this region. It’s not known how they managed to acquire these beauties in the middle of the war. When World War II ended, all military troops were sent back to the US, but the cost of having all those cars shipped was way too expensive. The ranking officers decided to leave all the cars in Belgium. The cars were driven up a hill, one by one, nicely parked and somehow hidden from the outside world.

Once back home in the US, the soldiers who wanted to retrieve their car had to take personal responsibility for all costs of the shipping. Not a single car was retrieved.

At one point there were four car graveyards around Chatillon, and as many as 500 vehicles. Only one remain today. Over time, corrosion and decay have worn down the vehicles and what little remained were stolen by the locals and car collectors.

[andrewfoleywritesthings]

Last year On Spec Magazine published my short story “Green Child.” I considered it one of my first professional cold sales. I didn’t know anyone at On Spec except in passing and I had no reason to believe they would recognize my name. Getting my letter of acceptance was, to say the least,...

[andrewfoleywritesthings]

Different Approaches

Today fellow Beamdog writer Amber Scott (@biggmommascott on twitter, she's got a tumblr but I can't remember how to link stuff right now) and I were tasked with coming up with some potential storylines for an even more potential game down the line.

We both worked independently, then combined everything into a shared document. In doing so, it became very clear that 1) we had very different approaches, 2) Amber knows what she's doing, and 3) Me, not so much.

Amber: "...so then, after defeating Hulrag the orc chieftain on the day of his son Hulrag-Et's wedding, the adventurers make their way to the city of Bronssheim. There, they track the villainous Krellik down to apartment 12b, 1356 Warriors Way, the site of the legendary half-dwarf mage Mallolly the Munificent final confrontation with her nemesis the Twilight Wyrm in 1073, which led to the Days of Glory (1073-1087). In apartment 12b, the heroes learn that they must seek all three pieces of the Brimstone Gem of the demon Kariss, in the Giantsteeth Mountains..."

Me: "Zombie myconids might be cool."

[andrewfoleywritesthings]

Sometimes you do things you don't fully understand. I went and saw Sin City: A Dame to Kill For on opening night.

Some thoughts, w/ spoilers, on Sin City 2: A Dame to Boogaloo to follow, bug first, my apologies to anyone who read this on twitter and caught a spoiler they didn't want. I'm tired and I didn't think and I screwed up. Sorry. And now, random tjhoughts:

1) Jessica Alba's character VO narrates part of her story. Bruce Willis' character, explicitly an Alba hallucination, also does VO narration 

2) They can make Mickey Rourke's head look like Marv, but they can't find a way to pad his body so he looks less like a bobblehead?

3) Rourke's Marv is pretty much portrayed as a straight-up superhero in this movie. First he beats up punks trying to burn a wino. Then he helps Josh Brolin's character by defeating Eva Green's superpowered henchman. ..then he's called in to take out dozens of bodyguards to Alba's character is clear to do what she wants to do. On the merits of this film alone w/out taking the first into consideration, he's arguably the most sympathetic character onscreen, not that that's a high bar to clear.

4) My favourite part of the movie was Joseph Gordon-Levitt's story. It took me awhile to figure out why, but what it comes down to is this: he's a hero in a Sin City yarn, so of course he's masculine & can handle himself in a fight, but he achieves victory without using violence. I can't recall that ever happening in Sin City before.

5) It was corny as hell. I was dead tired & found a good portion of the cliche noir dialogue funny. Most of the rest of the near-non-existent crowd didn't respond the same way.

6) The projectionist had screwed up slightly, so the tops of heads were frequently cut off, in longer shots sometimes down to the bridge of the nose. It bugged me, but T didn't notice. Told an usher after the movie and he seemed to take it so personally I felt bad having mentioned it.

7) There are more people living in Kadie's Bar than the rest of Sin City combined.

8) Who the hell brings two five to ten year old kids to an R-rated film called SIN CITY? Seriously.

9) Movie makeup is amazing. On film Frank Miller didn't appear to be hovering on the brink of death.

10) Eva Green really seemed to get into her role. Once her character's duplicitousness was revealed, she was a Mr. Burns level villain.

11) T thought the movie's reluctance to show male genitals emasculated the naked male characters. "Josh Brolin is hung like a Ken Doll," she saidGiven Miller's comments re: masculinity in interviews, this read intrigued me, b/c I'm absolutely certain it's not what the filmmakers intended and just reflects what the actors or their reps were willing to allow. That's why Jessica Alba's stripper character wears more than 70% of the other women in the movie.

12) You can give him as much makeup as you want; Josh Brolin is no Clive Owen.

13) The glasses w/ the white lenses were SUPER distracting. 

14) If I'm being honest, I enjoyed it more than I expected to. Another film benefits from my very low expectations.

15) The rule for the Sin City movies seems to be "The more colour you have onscreen, the less of an actual character you'll be."Marcy was pure fridgebait and what happened to the character was excessive and unnecessary. Not opposed to it, but she didn't add much beyond another hot dame to gaze lovingly at a male hero. More accurately, she added nothing whatsoever beyond that.

16) In moving from comic to screen, the Meloni/Piven combo was seriously shortchanged. Their entire investigation sequence, cut. As a result Meloni's disintegration comes off as very rushed and choppy.

18) I don't understand why Dwight's Kiss Me I'm Greek boss...was cut. You could've communicated more backstory in funny dialogue rather than cliched VO that way.

19) in one of the few noticeably changes from the comic that wasn't a straight cut, they took out Gail's big moment describing what Dwight did for her, but for some reason let her tell the story of what Dwight did for Miho, which seems like a pretty abritrary alteration.

20) Nancy is shown training and getting good at shooting Hartigan's weapon, which has sentimental value to her. During her big break-in assault, she goes all ninja with a crossbow she picked up fifteen minutes earlier, presumably because "that's cooler".

...big break-in assault, she goes all ninja with a crossbow she picked up fifteen minutes earlier, presumably because "that's cooler".

21) No mid or after-credits sting. That's all I can think of right now.