#and that deep connections stretch out into a lot of different territories and roles

[mrgaretcarter]

[h-sleepingirl]

Personal Reflection on Hypnosis and Magic

I was fairly obsessed with magic as a child. I grew up in a secular household -- my mother’s side was mixed Christian but she didn’t inherit the beliefs and my father’s side was Jewish but not observant. We did Christmas and Chanukah and Easter for a little while but just as a cultural practice; we never went to church or synagogue and we never even had conversations about God.

I liked fantasy novels a lot, and I liked Harry Potter, and for a bit of time around age 8 I was making a concerted effort to transform into a unicorn. I found sticks outside and pretended they were wands with the neighborhood kids. Fairly standard. It was no surprise that when I started wondering if I should attempt to connect to spirituality in some way as a teen I discovered Neopaganism and Wicca. It was a lot of shy reading in the 130 section at the library and keeping a Book of Shadows and learning how to meditate and all the bells and whistles of ritual and correspondences.

I remember sneaking outside and kneeling in the grass in the backyard under the moon, I remember going to Salem for the first time. I felt like sometimes maybe I was communicating with gods or divine powers but I never was able to buy in, despite completing my year-and-a-day dedication and making the actions a part of my life for several years, on and off. Starting to smoke weed in college refreshed my curiosity and reinforced belief to some degree, of course, but eventually, I had to come to terms with the fact that this wasn’t something I should force myself to do if I didn’t truly feel a connection to it.

But though I dropped the label and identification, the rituals of Wicca (and Feri witchcraft, which I had started exploring) had filled a role for me that childhood religion does for most. They became something I was comfortable conceptualizing, something that I had gained innate familiarity with, even if I ultimately eschewed the spiritual and metaphysical.

Hypnosis was never connected to that, for me; it felt sacrilegious to make an association between something that was supposed to be sacred and divine and something that was, for a long time, a shameful part of my sexuality. But it was around the same time that I was earnestly practicing magic that I began really studying and doing hypnosis.

A partner of mine at that time -- with whom I was doing hypnosis -- asked me, “Isn’t hypnotic trance the same thing as meditation?”

Naively, I vehemently disagreed.

--

The big-name NLP practitioners are obsessed with calling what they do “magic.” “The Structure of Magic,” “Frogs Into Princes,” etc. Their books are filled to the brim with the metaphor that people who use language effectively are wizards, because language is a representation of the world and has the capability to transform (or “trance-form,” as they say). 

I struggled with hypnosis for a long time -- both trancing others and being tranced myself -- for a variety of reasons. But one of them was that I always felt like other people wanted to do stuff with hypnosis, while I just wanted to do hypnosis itself. For a while even when I was more comfortable in my skin, I described myself as “boring” -- I liked things like fractionation and really deep trance and control, but I struggled with articulating if I had attractions to specific activities. Doll play? Sure, I guess that’s fun. Oh, is the induction over already? Ok…

This mirrored an issue I had while practicing Wicca -- spells were always meant to do something, invite love, heal, connect with the divine, whatever. But while I often wanted to do magic, I had a difficult time deciding on what to do with it. This was made even more complex when I realized I was likely stuck as a nonbeliever -- why did I sometimes return to the rituals, and what was I trying to achieve? How could I incorporate it into my life without feeling disingenuous?

Even up until a year ago, when I tried out tarot and kept asking the cards, “What is my relationship with magic?” -- twofold, looking for an answer (that never came), as well as to have the opportunity to simply try to read cards when I had no actual pressing questions I could think of (ironic).

Bandler et al, as well, work within a model where goals and change are the purpose of magic.

What I was seeking, the whole time, was not using any of these processes for anything, but simply to feel the thing I felt while doing them that was both difficult to illustrate and uniquely recognizable, unlike anything else.

Once I realized this, I used to try to describe it in hypnosis as that I wanted to focus on the induction, or that I didn’t care what we did, or that “change” wasn’t important to me. But that’s not accurate, either. Transformation, manifestation sates that desire when done in a certain way -- surely then I think that NLP perfectly describes my model?

My hesitation there is that I think for myself, it is the pure exhilaration from doing the thing that is what feels like the sweet spot, and it’s not dependent on what direction it goes, what form it takes, or what goal is being achieved.

For me, that feeling of “doing magic” and “doing hypnosis” are completely interchangeable. It is a pure thrill. It is a specific feeling in my mind and body that I can attempt to describe but can never fully enunciate. It changes and shifts but it is always recognizable on some level.

It is much more like doing recreational drugs than it is about prescribing something. Purely hedonistically, I am seeking a high.

--

I don’t believe in magic. I have had a handful of experiences in my life that have made me deeply question that at times, and they are experiences that I have never reconciled, but that is sort of besides the point. Nothing has ever pushed me into a place where I am able to fully embrace the concept that magic exists in any real sense.

But when I do hypnosis, it is impossible not to work within this model. How else am I supposed to describe what it feels like when I look at someone and know what they are thinking, or I just imagine my will suppressing theirs and their eyes flutter, or I think about what I want and my mouth starts moving elegantly in a way that makes it happen? In kinesthetic hypnosis, it is almost too much. My muscle memory is to do things like manifest energy flowing into and through my fingers, affecting my partner, and it was years of trying rituals like blue fire Feri meditations that made that so easy to feel.

It is not that I can make an easy statement like “hypnosis is magic.” It is not literally true. But as a metaphor, it holds a lot of potency. And magic is a powerful and ubiquitous metaphor; it is culturally ingrained in us in the stories we tell and our history. It is vague; there is no universal definition of it, which allows us to stretch it extensively and apply it wherever we feel it fits.

Metaphor itself is a type of magic, and this is one area where my thoughts about the metaphysical qualities of hypnosis shine through. Magic is about symbolism. We use objects, words, actions that we assign meaning to in order to manifest something. Herbs are purported to have affinities for different concepts so we include them in ritual -- and it’s not just that those affinities are inherent; there is meaning behind the correspondences that works best when we understand it. Similarly, when we are attempting to relate a concept to someone, we often do so indirectly, by telling a story, by creating metaphors or associations.

I don’t believe in magic, so to some degree, when I do it, that action is metaphorical. I am using actions that I don’t literally believe to hold any power in order to find a feeling; I am telling a story about a journey in order to find a real destination. This holds true to one of my beliefs, that symbols themselves hold little to no objective meaning. NLP and Alfred Korzybski say, “The map is not the territory; the word is not the thing; this is not a pipe; there is no objective truth.” Our entire world is made of symbols and metaphors that we all have to buy into in order to function as humans. We assign values to things that intrinsically have much different or nonexistent value -- prices, nostalgia, connotation. A magical symbol, in my eyes, is only as powerful as the connections we’re able to make with it in our minds. Color associations are symbolic. The action of casting a circle is symbolic. 

Words are symbols as well, and I do drink the Kool-aid with NLP on this, to some degree. I think about how words are dependent on a vast, intangible amount of variables in order to settle on their presumed, subjective interpretation by a listener or reader. We do this processing as well as thinking about our intent unconsciously, for the most part. If I assume that language is at least partially representative of our experiences and worlds, that gives communication a lot of power, and sure, yes, fine, that smells like magic to me, I’ll take your 20th tired book now Mr. Bandler, sir.

So to some degree the metaphor of magic is about things that are too big, or too grand, or too unknowable to talk about concretely. We often say something is magical when it is difficult or impossible to explain any other way. I can talk plenty about unconscious reading and microexpressions and altered states and language patterns and any number of artifacts that factor into hypnosis, but although it’s fascinating to know about them and helpful to consider and learn, I don’t often think about them when it actually comes down to it. I used to, but not for a while, and there is surely something to be said there for what “becoming experienced” means in both concepts.

It connects to when I think about what things we tend to call “magical” in hypnosis. When I respond without conscious effort, when something is “too fast,” when I feel like I can just purely make someone do something amazing. Sure, it can be easy enough to pick those apart and use academic language and explain them, but sometimes I drive myself insane trying to do that when I just want to say, “It’s magic; it feels like magic.”

--

After leaving my exploration of witchcraft for a while, I ended up adopting parts of it back into my life. I had more connection to the holidays on the Wheel of the Year than any others, really, and Wiccan ritual feels natural to me. I don’t call myself a witch, and I struggled for a long time looking for a label that fits what I do.

When I picked it back up, it was for a Samhain (Halloween) ritual to show my partner. It had been years, but I felt more comfortable casting a circle and doing all the things than I ever had been. I realized that my magic practice had begun to look a lot more like my hypnosis practice. I was speaking and acting unconsciously, simply filtering whispers of my intent through my words and actions. I had no plan and was following no script, but I knew what to do and say. We were both in very deep trance and we could feel the boundary of the circle as a physical thing, the air buzzing. It was the first moment that I had allowed a harmonious marriage between my knowledge of witchcraft and my practice of hypnosis, and I got the druglike thrill that I always seek. We sat in the circle for an hour, unbeknownst to us.

I did some searching to try to find if others had a similar experience or worldview. The best I could describe what I was doing was “psychological magic” or “witchcraft-flavored hypnosis.” I found very little; chaos magic and secular witchcraft were not what I was searching for.

Despite feeling a little lost, the experience reignited my desire for magical ritual. It has always been complicated to go through the motions that logically have no objective power to me, and saying that I give them power feels like a cop-out when I feel like I give them nothing. To some degree, equating it to hypnosis on any level feels like a crutch, but it’s one I’m used to; after all, there is plenty of me that doesn’t really believe in hypnosis, either -- “Hypnosis is bullshit.”

But “spellwork” became the most effortless thing in the world to me when it used to be so careful and unsure and measured. I take my props, I think about what they could symbolize, I think about how they connect to all the other ingredients available to me. I assign value and meaning through those connections and logic in a pattern my brain knows all too well. It is just like manipulation, and I use that to feel things. Creating rituals is just like giving a good suggestion; identify the message of the utterance and craft something poignant and poetic with the tools at hand to give it meaning. In hypnosis, the tools are your place in the story/trance, your vocabulary, the tone, the props, your history and the history of the person you’re with. In magic, the tools are the same, but possibly with a different flavor. A hypnotic tool is the logic that the word “deeper” is a sensory-rich word; a magical tool is the logic that clockwise motion can be equated to “more.” Both tools are malleable.

I mentioned poetry, and I think for me, one of the most important parts of good magic (and good hypnosis) is that it’s beautiful in some way. Wicca, like other religions, puts emphasis on reverence. Even many secular witches will be awed by nature and use that as a motivating force. Magic is not inherently naturalistic for me, even though I borrow the aesthetic. I don’t necessarily seek that kind of divine wonderment, but my attraction is adjacent.

--

My desires with magic are incredibly reflective of my desires with hypnosis -- power. Blind desire for power, whether to have it or have it taken away from me. It sounds evil to write it out, but at its base level it’s much less about anything but a simple feeling. It feels good and heady and awe-filled, and while on some level that’s sexually driven, I think it might also come from another, deeper place.

I still get uncomfortable when magical rituals feel too sensual, and there is a similar discomfort when hypnosis scenes feel too spiritual, but the latter is easier than the former. Generally, I still don’t know “what” to do when I do magic -- I only know “how” to do it. And not to mention “why” I would do magic if I don’t believe in it.

There’s a lot left that I haven’t reconciled. I suppose from a very broad lens, trying to codify the connections I feel between these two concepts is an attempt to make it easier to think about from a variety of different perspectives. I think about how I got over the phase of calling myself “boring” with hypnosis for only seeking feelings, not concepts, and think maybe that will help me with magic. I think about how I became more comfortable over time with my motivations to do hypnosis -- then less comfortable, then more comfortable. A key of my self-growth has always been recognizing and accepting my cyclical nature. (Wicca might say something about moon phases or a myriad of other natural cycles here; hypnosis and NLP might say something about patterns.)

To some degree, these kinds of explorations are valuable because they force us to limit our frames of reference as well. I barely touched upon connected ideas like religion or kink as a whole, how teaching and writing play in, my skill with self-hypnosis (surprisingly low) or connection to mesmerism/magnetism, and so much more. But it’s approaching nebulous concepts like this in a variety of different ways where we find answers, because often we don’t really even know what questions we should be asking.

--

I hope you enjoyed this piece! There was of course a lot I wanted to say and I’m very interested if this sparks any ideas or conversations -- when I first talked about this on Twitter, I was happily surprised how many folks had some similar thoughts or experiences and wanted to relate.

If you liked this writing and want to see more, you can find similar pieces available on Patreon or Gumroad; I write 6-8k words per month, sometimes academic and sometimes more exploratory like this. Please check it out! You can also get this writing as a downloadable PDF and tip through Gumroad, if you feel so inclined.

Thanks as always for your support, no matter what form that takes, be it monetary or simply reading through what I have to say.

- sleepingirl

[aion-rsa]

Scarface’s Tony Montana vs. Michael Corleone: Which Al Pacino is the Boss of Bosses

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Scarface hadn’t been made when Pete Townshend’s 1974 song “The Punk and the Godfather” came out, but The Godfather certainly had. The Who’s anthem was a musical allegory about the rock scene, but the lyrics might as well be interpreted as a conversation between Michael Corleone and Tony Montana. Possibly right before they rumble.

Al Pacino played both men in both movies, and in each film, he begins the story as a punk. But in The Godfather, at least, he grows into the establishment. Michael becomes don. Tony was a shooting star on the other hand, one on a collision course with an unyielding atmosphere. Both roles are smorgasbords of possibilities to an actor, especially one who chased Richard III to every imaginable outcome. Each are also master criminals. But which is more masterful?

The obvious answer would seem to be Michael Corleone because he turned a criminal empire into a multi-billion-dollar international business, and lived to a ripe old age to regret it. Cent’anni, Michael. Tony Montana doesn’t live to see the fruits of his labor, but his career in crime is littered with the successes of excess.

Montana is a hungry, young, loose cannon, just like real-life’s “Crazy” Joe Gallo, who went up against the Profaci family in the street fight which Mario Puzo and Francis Ford Coppola used as inspiration on The Godfather. Gallo stand-in Virgil “The Turk” Sollozzo (Al Lettieri) did a lot of damage while he was trying to muscle in on Don Vito Corleone’s territory, selling white powder. Montana leaves a larger body count in the wake of his cocaine empire career. 

Scarface is Pacino’s film. The whole movie is about Tony Montana and his meteoric rise through money, power and women. The Godfather is a mob movie, crowded with top rate talent in an ensemble case, but it belongs to Marlon Brando. While Michael inherits the position by The Godfather, Part II, he shares Godfather roles with Robert De Niro there, and people come away feeling a little sorry for Fredo. Michael isn’t the focus of an entire film until The Godfather, Part III, and by then folks were only distracted by his daughter. Tony Montana owns the screen from the moment it opens until his last splash in the fountain under the “World Is Yours” sign. The picture was his.

Making Your Bones on First Kills

Pacino brings little of the wisdom of his Godfather role to Scarface’s title character. This is by design. Every crime boss has to make his bones. In mafia organizations, real and cinematic, the button men on the street are called soldiers. And every soldier has to go through basic training before they’re ready to earn their button. Michael gets assassination training from his father’s most trusted capo, Pete Clemenza (Richard S. Castellano) before he goes out to enjoy the veal.

Scarface doesn’t give us many details of the crimes Tony was involved in while still in Cuba, so he makes his cinematic bones executing General Emilio Rebenga in the American detention camp for Cuban refugees. The two scenes are polar opposites in all ways but suspense.

When Michael is sitting at the dinner table with Sollozzo and Police Captain McCluskey (Sterling Hayden), he lets Sollozzo do all the talking, easing him into comfort before pulling the trigger. Tony barely lets Rebenga get a whimper in during his first onscreen hit, which plays closer to an execution. Tony covers the sounds of his own attack with a chant he himself begins. It is a brilliant overplay, especially when compared to another scene that resembles The Godfather, with Tony killing a mid-level gangster and a crooked cop towards the end of Scarface. 

A major difference between the two roles is best summed up in a line Tony says in Scarface. He learned to speak English by watching James Cagney and Humphrey Bogart. Montana comes from the Cagney tradition of broad gangster characterizations. In The Godfather, Kay Adams (Diane Keaton) asks Michael if he’d prefer Ingrid Bergman. The young soldier has to think about it. This is because Pacino is miles removed here from Bogart, who played Bergman’s lover in Casablanca. Pacino’s two gangster icons approached their criminality differently, and Pacino gets to play in both yards.

Pacino remains on an even keel in the Godfather films, but gives a tour de force of violent expression in Scarface, which burns like white heat.

The Handling of Enemies and Vices

In Scarface, Pacino gets to be almost as over the top as he is in Dick Tracy. His accent would never make it past the modern culture board at The Simpsons, but he pulls it off in 1983 because he says so. Pacino bullies the audience into believing it. It’s that exact arrogance which makes us root for Tony Montana. We don’t want to be on his bad side. But the chilled reptilian stare of Michael Corleone is a visual representation of why Sicilians prefer their revenge served cold.

Michael is diabetic, and is usually seen drinking water in The Godfather films. Sure, he has an occasional glass or red wine, and possibly some Sambuca with his espresso, but Michael always keeps a clear head. Tony, not so much. He makes drunken scenes at his favorite nightclubs, and not only gets high on his own supply, but gets so nose deep in it he develops godlike delusions of superheroic grandeur.

Montana is impulsive, instinctive, and decisive. Tony kills his best friend Manny Ribera (Steven Bauer) immediately upon finding him with his little sister Gina (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio). Michael waits until his sister Connie (Talia Shire) is on a plane to Tahoe before he has her husband killed in a hit years in the planning. Later Michael hangs his head silently as the shotgun blast which kills his brother, Fredo (John Cazale), echoes in the distance.

Tony, meanwhile, continues yelling at Sosa’s right-hand man long after his brains are all over the automobile’s interior.

Clothes Make the Man

Tony is written to be charismatic. Even coked out of his mind, he’d be a better fit in Vegas with Fredo’s crowd than with wet blanket Michael in Tahoe. Tony sports white suits, satin shirts, and designer sunglasses. Michael accessorizes three-piece ensembles with an ascot. This isn’t to say Michael had any issues with getting somebody’s brains splattered all over his Ivy League suit. 

Designed by Theadora Van Runkle, Michael preferred dupioni silk. That’s smart. The dark navy wool chalk-stripe suit Tony wears in his death scene was designed by Tommy Velasco and carries the class of a tuxedo. It was after 6pm. What do you think he is, a farmer?

“I’m the guy in the sky, flying high, flashing eyes. No surprise I told lies, I’m the punk from the gutter,” Roger Daltrey belts out on “The Punk and The Godfather.” This is exactly against the no-flash advice Frank Lopez (Robert Loggia) tries to impart on his young protégé in Scarface. Tony was raised not to take any advice other than his own. He also ignores his consigliere’s advice on several occasions. When Manny reminds Tony the pair of them were in a cage a year ago, the rebel gangster says he’s trying to forget that, he’s going after the boss’ girl. 

“I come from the gutter,” Montana proudly contends. “I know that. I got no education but that’s okay. I know the street, and I’m making all the right connections.” 

By contrast, Michael attended Dartmouth College and then dropped out to join the Marines after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Michael is both intelligent and well-connected, loosely modeled on Joseph Bonanno and Vito Genovese. He also accepts the wisdom of his father, who most closely resembled “The Prime Minister” of New York’s Five Families in the 1950s, mafia boss Frank Costello.

The Better Family Man

Pacino’s Don Michael Corleone has access to all his family’s connections, stretching back to the old world. He learns to expertly pull the strings of powerful men, like his father did, but as he grew, he bent. Michael is friends with senators, meets with the President of Cuba, has money in the Vatican, and confesses his sins to a Pope. Michael was insulated throughout his childhood and criminal career. If Tony gets in trouble, he has to get out of it himself, or with the help of a handful of low-level operatives.

Michael is the family rebel, risking his life and getting medals for strangers. He also gets to be both the prodigal son and the dutiful son. He gets the fatted calf and pays the piper. He even tips the baker’s helper for the effort. Michael comes back to both of his families, crime and birth, with a vengeance. He is there for his father the moment he is needed. Michael is the better family man. Tony’s mother is ashamed of him, and he completely ruins his sister’s wedding. Michael’s family means everything to him, and while he still manages to lose them, he actually maneuvers his two families well over rough waters for a very long run.  

Tony Montana is the rebel’s rebel. Even before he tosses off his bandana at the dishwasher job to make a quick score, we knew. He was born bad, in the cinematically good way. This also makes Montana a natural at crime. In The Godfather, Michael has it in his blood as a Corleone, but has his heart set on college, a straight career, and a shot to bring his whole family into the American Dream, which for Montana only exists as a wet dream.

Tony never gets past the hormonal teenage phase of his love of America. He wants to love his new country to death. He is turned on by the dream. He wants to take it. Not earn it. No foreplay necessary, as he claims his latest victim’s wife as his own.

Managerial Skills

Michael is pretty good with his underlings, when he’s not having them garroted on the way to an airport or advising them to slit their wrists in a bath. He promises Clemenza he can have his own family once the Corleones relocate to Las Vegas. He lets Joe Zaza (Joe Mantegna) get away with murder as the guy he sets up to run his old territory in The Godfather, Part III. Michael doesn’t keep turncoats like his trusted caporegime Tessio (Abe Vigoda) around for old times’ sake, and he doesn’t suffer fools at all. It may seem he cuts Tom Hayden (Robert Duvall) loose a little fast, and without warning or due cause. But if he was a wartime consigliere, he would have seen it coming.

While Tony Montana may have a competitive and fast-tracked entry program for new workers (“hey, you got a job”), he’s also the guy who shoots his right-hand man Manny for marrying his sister. Tony exacts a brutal and dangerous revenge for the death of his friend Angel Fernandez in the Miami chainsaw massacre, but doesn’t lift a finger when his cohort Omar Suarez (F. Murray Abraham) is hanged to death from a helicopter by drug lord Alejandro Sosa (Paul Shenar). Michael does have a tendency to have his soldato kiss his ring, but he’s not entirely a .95 caliber pezzonovante.

Read more

Movies

Scarface: Where Tony Montana Went Wrong

By Tony Sokol

Movies

The Godfather Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone Proves a Little Less is Infinitely More

By Tony Sokol

One of the most important skills a boss must exhibit is how to delegate, and Corleone is a minor Machiavellian master at his delegation. He whispers orders from behind closed doors. Tony is more hands-on. The only reason he tells Manny to “kill that piece of shit” Frank is because he’s already humiliated his former boss into a shell of a real man.

Montana is in the trenches with his soldiers and sets standards by example. He shoots a guy on a crowded Miami street in broad daylight. Montana is a born triggerman and only reluctantly delegates the duty. He has 10 bodyguards when Sosa men raid his mansion fortress. He takes the invading force with one little friend, an M16A1 rifle with a customized grenade launcher. But it sure doesn’t help the employees getting murdered outside.

A Handle on Finances

We don’t know what kinds of criminal activities the Corleone family were involved in between 1958 and 1979. Still, Michael had proven himself a traditionalist and a bit of a prude, so he spends most of his career shaving his take from harmless vices and avoiding drugs, which he sees as a dirty business. But through whatever means, by The Godfather, Part III, Michael has earned enough capital to buy himself out of crime.

Michael gambles successfully on Wall Street, keeps the Genco olive oil company going, and invests in hotels, casinos, and movie studios. He’s got to be pulling in a billion dollars a year in legitimate business. He makes enough to pad the coffers of the Vatican, and his share of Immobiliare stocks pulls in another $1 billion.

Tony looks like he’s earning about $15 million a month. But it doesn’t look like he puts much stock in his future. He makes no investments, only purchases. His only visible holding is the salon his sister works in. But we also have to take into account that he built his empire from scratch. Michael inherited his. And while the head of the Corleone family can blackmail a U.S. senator with a tragic sex scandal, Montana fares no better than Al Capone with tax evasion.

Who Would Win in a Mob War?

Scarface is as violent as the 1932 Howard Hawk original. Blood is a big expense, and 42 people are killed in the 1985 film. It came out amid other over-the-top action blockbusters like First Blood and the contemporary reality of the South American drug trade. So, it would seem, the film has far more violence. But they are easily matched.

The Godfather has a horse’s head, Scarface has a chainsaw. Michael’s brother Sonny (James Caan) gets machine gunned to smithereens at the toll booth, Tony blows the lower limbs off his would-be assassins at a nightclub. Omar is lynched in a chopper, the upper echelon of the mob is taken out by helicopter fire in The Godfather, Part III. Tony and Michael each get to kill a cop.

Both mob figures survive assassination attempts. Michael loses his wife Apollonia in Sicily in a car bombing meant for him. He also avoids the trap Tessio sets at the meeting with Emilio Barzini (Richard Conte), on his turf, where Michael “will be safe.” Tony lives through his initial professionally ordered hit, as well as being saved by Manny from certain death by chainsaw.

While Michael Corleone is able to take care of Barzini, Victor Stracci, Carmine Cuneo, and Phillip Tattaglia – the leadership of the five families – at the end of The Godfather, Tony Montana can only put up a good fight. The Corleone family would win in a protracted war against Montana’s cartel, but there is a possibility Tony would have outlived Michael while the battles raged. Expert swordsmen aren’t afraid to duel the best in the field, but they’re scared of the worst. 

As far as crime tactics and strategic villainy, Michael Corleone plays a game of chess. Tony Montana plays hopscotch. He wins by skipping cracks in the street, but he only rises as far as the pavement.

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[infinite-xerath]

Runeterra Retcons 6: Shyvana

I’ll be honest: before doing the research to write this script, even I had no idea how complicated the history of Shyvana’s character was. Counting her current lore state, Shyvana has had no less than five different bios over the course of her existence, putting her in the same league as Warwick in terms of retcons. While I personally think that her current lore state is relatively fine as-is, there are definitely some aspects of her story that could use a little polishing up.

As always, though, we need to first take a look at Shyvana’s history in League and see what the core of her character concept is. With that established, we can try and build a more solid foundation for Runeterra’s resident half-dragon. So, without further ado, let’s see how she was originally envisioned in her very first bio.

Alright, so, Shyvana is a straight up human-dragon hybrid, conceived through… Well, the traditional means. I do think it’s interesting to note that this is actually the first mention of Celestial Dragons we get in the lore. Apparently, the concept for Aurelion Sol goes back all the way to the early days, though I doubt Celestial Dragons were anything like what we know them as today. Hard to say, given that this was the only mention of that entire subspecies in the old lore.

But, enough beating around the bush. As a whole, I think this bio is fine, all things considered. It leaves a lot of unanswered questions, sure, but it’s a decent basis to build her character off of. Most importantly, this bio establishes Shyvana’s connection to Jarvan IV: something that has remained consistent through every iteration of her character. While Warwick’s ties to Soraka were constantly fluctuating and eventually severed in his recent bio, Shyvana’s relationship to the Demacian prince is something all her future incarnations would carry over. Speaking of, let’s check out her second bio and see how her first retcon was handled.

So, Shyvana’s no longer Celestial in nature, which is probably for the best given that her element was always aligned more with fire than space. What’s more, it’s now established that half-dragons like her are hated by both humans and dragon-kind. Also, apparently most, if not all dragons can shape-shift now. Frankly, there are still a few mysteries left by this bio, such as who killed Shyvana’s father and what even happened to her mother. Still, it’s not awful, though Riot apparently decided that they wanted to give her a more active role rather than just being saved by Prince Jarvan. Thus, do we receive her third bio.

Alright, so once again, no real mention of Shyvana’s mother, and her father’s identity is still kinda vague. By this point, another recurring theme of Shyvana’s story should be evident: tragedy. Riot seems quite insistent on giving her the whole dead parent trope for her backstory, yet that’s never REALLY brought up in her character besides a single voice line: “By the blood of my father, I will end them!” Once again, we know nothing beyond the fact that her father was a dragon and her mother was inhuman. It might also be worth noting that no mention of shape-shifting is present in this version of the story, so… Take that how you will.

Still, I like this story because it helps to better establish a bond between Shyvana and J4, having them fight together to bring down a mutual enemy. This, in turn, turns the initial concept of Jarvan merely saving her out of pity to a relationship born of mutual respect. This was Shyvana’s backstory when I started playing League, and so this is the version of the character that I grew most familiar with. Still, Riot would retcon her again after the 2015 reboot, leaving us with her fourth bio. Buckle in folks, because this one is the longest by a landslide and there’s a LOT to go over here.

Phew! OK, that was a LOT to take in. Frankly, you could make an entire analysis about this version of the lore alone, but let’s just go over some of the major talking points, shall we? For the first time, Shyvana is no longer the offspring of a human and a dragon, but rather the result of a human using magic on a dragon egg. The reason for this direction is most likely because dragons in Runeterra can no longer shapeshift, so they needed to find a new way to justify her existence.

Once again, we touch upon the Vastaya Problem, where we have an entire race of half-human creatures that Shyvana could have easily been slotted into. Would the existence of dragon vastaya really be that much of a stretch, Riot? Well, I already harped on about that quite a bit with Warwick, so let’s just move on, shall we?

The fourth version of Shyvana’s bio is the first time in which her mother actually takes a prominent role: that of an antagonist. Yvva is actually pretty compelling as a villain, antagonizing Shyvana all her life while her father tries to protect her. The one major issue I have with this is that, if Shyvana’s dad knew about Demacia and that its petricite could conceal his daughter, why did he not think to bring Shyvana there sooner? I suppose he needed to train her to control her power first, but could the petricite not have also helped with that? Oh well. That’s a bit of a nitpick in the grand scheme of things, I admit.

The other major change here is that now the dynamic between Jarvan and Shyvana has been changed once again. Now, SHE is the one saving HIM, a complete reverse of the original story. While I don’t exactly have a problem with this, I do think Jarvan agreeing to help her fight Yvva comes off as a bit abrupt, and the Demacian soldiers seemed a bit too ready to accept her into their home. I mean, yes, she saved their prince, but fear of magic is rooted DEEP into their society. This is the same nation that would rather let entire fields succumb to disease and rot than rely on mages to sustain the crops.

While there are some other small issues I could nitpick about, I honestly think that the way they handle Jarvan and Shyvana’s team-up is the biggest by far. For a little context: Jarvan’s whole backstory is one of repentance. He gets cocky and tries to retake some land from the control of Noxus without the sanction of the king, and his recklessness and inexperience wind up getting his men killed and himself gravely injured. This is what leads to him being found and saved by Shyvana.

Though Shyvana’s bio would be rewritten one more time, the way in which she and Jarvan meet and team up to take on Yvva remains more-or-less the same. Frankly, I’m not a big fan of this. I like the idea in concept, but the fact is that Yvva isn’t really Jarvan’s antagonist. She is a threat to Demacia and Jarvan does redeem himself by helping to bring her down at Wrenwall, but it feels more like he’s just jumping in to help Shyvana deal with HER problem out of gratitude.

That being said, this is an analysis about SHYVANA’S character, so let’s take a look at her fifth and final bio to determine her current lore state, shall we?

Alright, so I’ll be honest: I think this might be the worst version of her story so-far. To begin with, it’s not even really clear WHY Shyvana is the way she is. At least the previous version of the lore made it clear that a human mage tampering with the egg is the reason why Shyvana became a half-dragon, but in this story, the baby mutates just because of his proximity? Even then, that may not even be the cause. “Whether it was the act of removing it from the nest, or the last moon of autumn giving way to winter, something had changed.” So, yeah, it’s even really clear what caused Shyvana to take on human qualities.

Also, can we just acknowledge another bizarre line from this bio? “From an early age, she was able to shift her form into something monstrous, akin to the half-dragons of ancient myth.” So, hold on, there have been half-dragons before Shyvana? This is something that’s occurred in the past? Can we get some elaboration on this? No? We’re just going to ignore that. Alright then. Moving on.

This version of the bio tries to reintroduce the tragedy of Shyvana losing her father, but it’s honestly handled a lot less gracefully here, in my opinion. He’s just a random human mage that decided to raise her out of pity, and his death is kind of pathetic, honestly. In the previous lore, Shyvana’s dragon father gave his life defending her, whereas this nameless mage is just killed unceremoniously in Yvva’s rampage. Even his burial feels rushed and anticlimactic.

As for Jarvan’s introduction this time, well… My prior thoughts still stand. Shyvana’s lore has always been connected to his, but I truly believe their relationship was handled best in the third version of the lore, where they had a mutual enemy to bring down. Hell, he doesn’t really even do much in the showdown against Yvva other than have his soldiers fire arrows. It all feels like a hyper-condensed version of Shyvana’s fourth bio, which is understandable given how long it was, but a story like this kind of needs to be properly fleshed out if we’re meant to actually CARE about the individual story beats.

 So, with all that said and established, let’s get into the meat of this one, shall we? Without further ado, I present to you all: my reinterpretation of Shyvana’s backstory. Please, enjoy.

Among the many breeds of dragon that inhabit Runeterra, few command as much fear and respect as the rare elemental drakes. Though they command the primal magics of the world itself, elemental drakes are be reclusive creatures, typically lashing out only when their territory is disturbed. For this reason, the lands near Nockmirch remained untouched by mortal settlements for centuries, as all knew the name of the beast who ruled them: Yvva, the fire drake.

For years, Yvva inspired tales of terror and reverence alike, feasting on travelers and traders who dared to intrude upon her lands. Even her mate, Urgrin, feared Yvva’s power and fiery temper. Unbeknownst to Yvva, Urgrin was no ordinary dragon: in truth, he was a member of an ancient vastayan tribe with the power to take on draconic form. As his kind dwindled in number, what few of Urgrin’s people remained scattered to the winds, with Urgrin himself maintaining his draconic form constantly in the hopes of finding a strong partner.

At first, Urgrin believed himself fortunate to partner with an elemental drake, but as their clutch of eggs began to hatch, he felt himself growing increasingly worried. Only one of these younglings bore Yvva’s primal fire, meaning that the rest would likely be discarded or eaten. When the final egg hatched, Urgrin was shocked to find not a dragon youngling, but a girl with purple skin and horns. He’d not thought it possible, but this child was vastayan just as he was, and her birth would expose Urgrin’s secret to Yvva.

Fearing for both his life and girl’s, Urgrin fled the under the cover of night. Resuming his vastayan form for the first time in decades, Urgrin took shelter in the northern mountains, hoping that the cold of the Freljord would deter Yvva’s pursuit. There, he raised his daughter in secret, naming her Shyvana out of his lingering respect for her mother.

For a time, Shyvana and Urgrin lived in relative solitude. Urgrin taught Shyvana all about her vastayan heritage, but as she grew, it became apparent that Shyvana had inherited something from her mother as well: the primal elemental magic of a fire drake. Urgrin spent years teaching Shyvana how to harness her rage, hoping to keep his daughter from succumbing to the same fiery temperament as her mother. Though this training seemed effective at first, Shyvana’s power only grew with time. This power, in-turn, became a beacon, luring Yvva to the far north in pursuit of her stolen child and traitorous mate.

One day, as Shyvana was returning from a hunt, she was shocked to find her house ablaze. Two great dragons clashed in the skies above, one of whom she instantly recognized as her father. Shyvana tried to join the fight, only for Yvva to turn her wrath on the half-blood child. Urgrin shielded Shyvana from his mother’s fury, astonishing even Yvva with his strength. Even so, Urgrin was clearly losing the fight, and so he bid Shyvana to flee south to a land called Demacia, where petricite walls could dampen her magic and shield her from Yvva’s wrath. Begrudgingly, Shyvana did as told, trekking through the mountains as her father gave his life on her behalf.

After a long, hard trek, Shyvana finally reached the land her father spoke of: Demacia, a kingdom made of petricite. She quickly found herself an outcast, forced to hide from the magic-fearing humans that lived inside petricite walls. And yet, just as her father said, those same walls served to dim her power and hide Shyvana from her mother’s fury. Even still, Yvva would not relent so easily.

For years, Yvva scorched Demacian settlements near the border in search of her daughter, forcing the Shyvana to remain constantly on the move. Hunted by her mother and persecuted by the people around her, Shyvana found herself utterly alone in the world. Finally, after years of dogged pursuit, Shyvana had had enough. Embracing her inner fire, Shyvana took flight on blazing wings and ascended the mountains near Nockmirch, where she found Yvva waiting for her.

The two drakes clashed for hours, primal flame against primal flame. Their battle charred the nearby plains and melted stone, yet for all her ferocity, Shyvana was ultimately no match for her mother’s fury. Yvva sent her daughter plummeting into a nearby river, content to leave her half-breed daughter to drown. As Yvva fled, however, Shyvana dragged herself out of the water, reverting back to her humanoid form as she gasped for breath. Battered and beaten, Shyvana wandered blindly for days, knowing full-well that her mother would likely come for her again soon.

Eventually, Shyvana encountered a young man in charred armor at the base of the Argent Mountains, who himself looked to be barely clinging to life. She learned that this man, too, had sought to challenge Yvva and lost. His soldiers had sacrificed themselves on his behalf, leaving the young man stranded and alone. Sensing an unusual kinship with this stranger, Shyvana offered to bring him to the nearest Demacian settlement, and to her surprise, the stranger agreed. Even after revealing herself to be Yvva’s daughter, the stranger bore her no hostility.

The people of Cloudfield were not so inviting. At first, many were terrified of Shyvana, and yet their fear turned to elation when they realized who her companion was. This man, she learned, was none-other than the prince of Demacia himself: Jarvan IV. Seeking to end Yvva’s reign of terror on his kingdom’s borders, the prince had set out with a handful of elite soldiers, only to return to home in shame and defeat. For coming to his aid, the people of Cloudfield begrudgingly allowed Shyvana to remain amongst them to heal her wounds while the prince .

Though grateful for their hospitality, Shyvana knew her presence would only draw Yvva to her sooner or later. As she made to depart, Shyvana was approached by Jarvan once again, this time with a proposition: alone, they had failed to defeat the fire drake, but together they may stand a chance.

Jarvan and Shyvana traveled to the fortress of Wrenwall, where they began to develop a plan. Jarvan would organize his troops and set traps in place for Yvva, while Shyvana flew ahead to garner her mother’s attention. Though reluctant to place her faith in these mere humans, Shyvana understood that this would be her final chance to avenge her father. Sure enough, when Shyvana neared Nockmirch once more, Yvva’s furious cry shook the heavens themselves as she began her pursuit.

Once again, the fire drakes clashed, but this time Shyvana wasn’t planning to defeat her mother with raw force. Instead, she led Yvva closer and closer to the fortress of Wrenwall, where Jarvan and his soldiers were waiting. Believing her daughter’s retreat an act of cowardice, Yvva was taken totally off-guard by the volley of petricite bolts launched from the fortress’s ballista. As the bolts tore into her scales, Yvva felt her power weakening, and Shyvana was quick to capitalize on this. Once again, their battle was intense, yet Shyvana now had the upperhand as Jarvan himself led a new battalion into the fray.

Even weakened, Yvva fought hard until her last breath. She tore at her daughter’s scales and devoured Demacian soldiers, yet in the end, the fire drake was outnumbered and outmatched. Shyvana sank her teeth into her mother’s neck while Jarvan plunged a spear deep into her forehead. In that moment, the flames of Yvva finally flickered out, and the soldiers of Wrenwall cheered in triumph.

In the aftermath of the battle, Jarvan approached Shyvana once again, this time with another proposition: in exchange for her loyalty, he would offer her a place among Demacia’s elite. Awed and humbled by the prince’s might and valor, Shyvana knelt and swore her loyalty on the spot. Though many still harbor doubts about the half-dragon, she serves her prince with undying devotion and respect. Shyvana’s fire burns for Demacia and Demacia alone, and those who threaten her new home are to learn that even a half-dragon’s fury is not to be trifled with.

Alright, so, the biggest and most notable change from the get-go: I made Shyvana vastayan rather than human. I understand that this might seem a bit controversial to some, but it doesn’t really contradict or change anything. Shyvana is simply called the half-dragon; there’s never any mention of what her other half actually is.

Ideally, I would have liked to keep her half-human as well, but since Riot clearly wants to remove the concept of dragon-human intercourse to produce an offspring naturally, the only option that remains is the contrived method of “it happens because a human was near the egg.” Like, that’s the same sort of logic as Rengar becoming anthropomorphic because he was raised by a human hunter as a cub. It’s just silly, if we’re being honest, and the human “father” in Shyvana’s last two bios has been such a non-entity that they don’t really even bother to give him a name.

So yes, I’m making Shyana half-vastayan, not unlike Sett in a way. Again, I get why some might take issue with this, but I feel like that’s a much easier and simpler route to go with. Of course, the other big change would mean rewriting a bit of Jarvan’s story as well, though that’s kind of inevitable; the two are so closely intwined that changing one story kind of has to impact the other.

Now, I don’t think J4’s current bio is bad enough to warrant a full rewrite, but as I stated before: I think his story would work a lot better if he also had a personal reason to fight Yvva in the first place. I think that having him lose soldiers to her rather than some random Noxians fits more thematically and gives him more reason to team up with Shyvana. I also wanted to give him a bigger role to play in bring Yvva down, to further emphasize that she’s an opponent Jarvan and Shyvana could only defeat by working together.

Overall, Shyvana’s current lore state isn’t the worst I’ve seen, but it could definitely do with some improvements. I hope you all enjoyed my take on her character, as this was possibly the lengthiest retcon to write. As always, though, feel free to share your thoughts down below, and I’ll see you all next time!

[shinneth]

What Myers-Briggs types do you think the main Trifecta characters would be?

Hmm. Well, I had a hard time settling one a single type for most of them, so I tried to find at least two for the six Trifecta “mains” - Paul, Reggie, Brandon, Conway, Barry, and Maylene.

(REALLY stretching it calling Maylene a “main”, especially since Chapter 13 is where she peaked; once Arc II happens, she’ll be in Out Of Focus territory for sure… buuuut she’s made her mark and a lot of readers take notice to her, so I threw her in)

Interestingly, I had no one pegged as INFP (Mediator/Idealist), which is where I fall in. Some characters fit half of it but I couldn’t justify the other half not befitting them (Paul and Conway were the partial contenders - and Brandon to a lesser degree… but Conway’s too charismatic and sociable, while Paul and Brandon aren’t deep thinkers to the point where they’re completely delusional like I am :P).

Paul - INTJ (The Mastermind) or ISTJ (The Inspector)

Safe to say if I had to pick one only, it would be INTJ. Definitely would sooner work alone than a group any day (and if Conway hadn’t been there for him like he’d been so much in Trifecta, this would likely still be the case for him - and Barry is more a result of Trifecta Paul’s character development). Much more comfortable doing things his own way and proving to the world he can handle himself. Even with Trifecta development, Paul still finds social activity a huge chore. Trifecta 21 has Paul go out of his way to be receptive to Conway’s friendliness, and it does take a toll on him physically and mentally. Also a master strategist, as per canon, and questions everything. And god help him if Paul is unsure of anything. It’s why he hates being indecisive in Trifecta; he believes even a wrong choice or a bad idea is better than none at all. And knowing his legendary levels of “patience”, he’s definitely not going to wait all day to find the right path.

With ISTJ… well, this was a Brandon contender, surprise surprise. Intimidating? Comes off that way. Serious? All the damn time. Formal, proper…? Well, he DOES respect his elders, for the most part. If he thinks you’re shit, he’ll treat you like shit, but Paul’s not nearly as eager to start shit as he was in his Trifecta youth. You can definitely say, either in canon or Trifecta, Paul’s a strong worker who follows his own moral code. For all his controversial shit, Paul has never once cheated or tried to take the easy way out. Now, he sure as hell isn’t PATIENT, and he doesn’t really put much stock in going out of his way to upholding social or cultural responsibility (especially the former). But Paul is typically quiet and reserved; while he’s prone to anger, he’s fully capable of keeping calm when he needs to. Even Trifecta Paul can pull this off unless he’s just physically about to break down. Often misunderstood? Ohhhhhh, yeah.

Reggie - ESFJ (The Provider) or ESTJ (The Supervisor)

ESFJ might actually be the lesser of the two here. Mostly because Reggie isn’t really an attention-seeker outside of his own family members. He doesn’t desire the spotlight; he just wants his daddy and lil bro to love and accept him! But Reggie IS an active young man, very social, way more thoughtful than he makes himself out to be, and totally IS the organizer for any family event that happens in the present-day and has been since his mother’s death. He’s the guy that everybody loves. It’s been a common theme in some AUs of his Trifecta persona where he ends up being one of the most popular kids in school with legions of girls who’d drop everything to date him and he just never notices. 

ESTJ covers him more uniformly. Reggie doesn’t want to be the star of the show, but he does want to help and offer advice to absolutely anyone who needs it. And he checks out on the listed traits: honest, dedicated, dignified, and traditional. You could definitely see him as a role model (even if Paul doesn’t) and he’s a good fit for a leader role. 

Brandon - ENFP (The Champion) or ENTJ (The Commander)

One of Brandon’s defining traits (that might’ve not been showcased in Trifecta yet since we’re not yet at the point where it’s mega-relevant) is that he will decide his own destiny and what path to take, damn what anyone else says. So there’s what wins him the ENFP brand. His intuition is pretty top-notch; terminal disease aside, Brandon can totally read Paul like a book even though he’s spent the better part of Paul’s life operating from a great distance and not really being around for his kid. He’s way more perceptive than most give him credit for, and though he’ll never admit it, Brandon does act on his feelings a lot. Even taking an overseas job shortly after his wife died while leaving his kids behind - he can say that’s solely because it was the best way to make up for the income difference, but really, it doubled as his desire to just remove himself from everything of Andrea’s influence. He had a harder time coping with her death than he’ll ever care to admit. Plus, Brandon’s unprofessional abandoning of his post that resulted in his return to Sinnoh? Totally impulsive. He also wasted no time making a detour to Reggie when Brandon learned he was in the hospital, so there you go. 

With ENTJ, this correlates with Brandon’s leadership skills as head of the Kanto Battle Frontier, as well as being the head of his own travelling trifecta with Byron and Palmer. Ambitious is putting it mildly for Brandon, honestly. And while he can be a slave to his feelings at times, Brandon is more known for acting with cold, hard logic. He’s likened to Paul in Trifecta for a reason. Brandon’s all for challenging himself, not afraid to make the hard calls(as his sacrifice for Regigas proves), and hell no he cannot sit still. 

Conway - INTP (The Thinker) or ENTP (The Visionary)

Well, Conway’s pretty damn easy to peg even if you didn’t take his Trifecta traits into account. INTP is Conway’s most well-known traits in a nutshell: absorbs info like a sponge, heavy on the logical, objective side of perspective… he plans, he hypothesizes, he observes, he analyzes, he theorizes, and he can pick up on details most others will overlook. Like, literally everything INTP applies to Conway. He’s the consummate INTP. 

ENTP has many of these traits, as well. Only major point of contention is not enjoying small-talk, as Trifecta Conway especially is very much all for that… at least for the people he deems worthy of it. Barry, he might not be much up for the small-talk as he would Paul or Dawn. I wanted to make sure to at least add one E-type here since I think it should be emphasized that despite his many typical nerd qualities, Conway is very much extroverted even in canon. He’s one of the most extroverted intellectual characters I’ve ever seen, honestly. Canon and Trifecta Conway love going in-depth with their thought processes, and he is a lover of learning. Loyal and energetic are also listed traits here, which are definitely more prominent Trifecta Conway traits, but notable ones nonetheless.

Barry - ENFJ (The Giver) or ESFP (The Performer)

While I think we can agree Barry is more of a “live in the now” type than any other character listed here, contrary to the ENFJ type, the other traits fit Barry like a glove. Especially the “living in their imagination opposed to the real world” aspect. Holy shit that is very Barry. But he is idealistic, highly charismatic, outspoken… and in Trifecta, he’s proved to grow like a weed on characters who’d otherwise never associate with him, such as Conway and eventually Paul. Barry’s also much more of an optimistic individual compared to his future travel-mates and much less prone to letting bad shit get him down for any length of time. 

ESFP speaks for itself. Barry’s the biggest spotlight whore of the Trifecta cast. Fun and livelihood are Barry’s core essences, and while he’s not the most considerate character to ever be around and thinking is secondary to everything, Barry isn’t a complete dick and will feel bad if he realizes he’s inadvertently hurt someone’s feelings. It may take him a while to understand that, but once he does, he’ll go out of his way to make you feel better. Barry doesn’t want to travel around with a couple of sad-sacks, after all. And while Barry’s an acquired taste who can and will rub people the wrong way… you know, compared to Paul and Conway, he’ll come off as the one most “normal” when it comes to people-persons. Barry’s aggressively extroverted, so even if it yields mixed results more often than he’d like, Barry will always go out of his way to connect with people.

Maylene - ISFJ (The Nurturer) or ESTP (The Doer)

Despite being one of the most developed characters among the gym leader category in the Pokemon anime, she is harder to peg down than the others. But IFSJ feels pretty accurate for her. Sensitive to the feelings of others could link to her identity as an aura-user… plus she was insecure enough to let Paul’s worlds wreck her shit. But she is extremely considerate of others, warm and kind-hearted, and bringing out the best in others is what she aims to do as gym leader. Considerate, loyal, unselfish? All fit Maylene perfectly. For a Fighting-type specialist and martial artist, she’s definitely a modest and gentle soul.

ESTP… I think Trifecta 13 proves how incompatible Maylene is with elaborate planning and handling shitloads of detailed instructions. If left to her own devices, Maylene definitely would have handled the issue in chapter 13 by directly confronting Saturn rather than trying her hardest to feign ignorance of his identity. She’s not hot-headed, but Maylene does far better winging it than adhering to something set out for her. Maylene does always strive to better herself, so she’s open to trying new things. While a little on the shy side, she enjoys being around people and she IS the head of her own damn dojo, so… there you go. While it’s a stretch to say she’s pragmatic or logical, she definitely comes off that way when you line her up with other characters of her type specialty and line of work. She is level-headed and down-to-earth, at least; I’ll say that much.

When you break it down, there are common carry-over traits between the two for everyone: 

Paul solidly has Introverted, Thinking, and Judging in his set. Checks out.

Reggie always carries Extroverted, Sensing, and Judging. 

Brandon is a sure bet for Extroverted and Intuitive. 

Conway is a consummate Intuitive, Thinking and Perceiving man. 

Barry is a lock for Extroverted and Feeling. Unsurprising.

Maylene only has Sensing as a consistent trait.

Well, that was more fun than I thought. Hope everyone else enjoys that!

[fortunatowrites]

Brutak: Outcast of Iridonia, Part 1 of 2

Born on Iridonia, Brutak Liberatt was an orange Zabrak. His tribe raised him to be independent and to carry on the tradition that Zabraks were famous for: never taking orders from others. His creed would see to it that if someone called to have power over him and ordered him to do something he didn’t want to, he would not do it.

When Brutak was young, his family suddenly became distant with him. He wasn’t sure it was that he had done, but they regarded him with a strange attitude. His parents didn’t treat his brother or anyone else Brutak saw them interact with in the way they treated him. News had come through of a tribe getting ready to leave Iridonia and Brutak’s mother secreted him away. She sent him to join the tribe, telling him that they would raise him to be true and strong.

Brutak left Iridonia to travel with this wandering tribe of Zabraks. It was normal for Zabraks to form tribes and wander out further into the galaxy, the most notable one being the Night Sisters. This one was travelling for different reasons though. They had heard about how the republic had taken care of the Night Sisters and regarded this as good news. They thought it good because the Night Sisters were notorious for their strange experiments on abducted Zabraks. When the republic shifted into the Galactic Empire, they feared the worst and set out. They would learn soon afterwards that they were right, for the Empire sought to bring the species of rebellious aliens under boot.

The tribe was known as the Starspikes and they lived on a space vessel. Few of them would leave the vessel when it was docked planetside to gather supplies and credits. Those who left often were a mercenary company going by the name of Starspikes so that they could work with any bounty hunting guilds that accepted them. As a young man, Brutak would set out with two “brothers'' to work as a trio. It was most often them that formed the Starspikes.

To keep things coherent with any tales told about them, they wore black armor and went by code names. Brutak was known as Ortega while the other two were brothers Gaia and Mash. Gaia often took the lead on the missions since he was the oldest and knew how to best secure deals. Anyone acting as Gaia would have the leadership role, but as far as Brutak knew, no one else ever used the codename Gaia besides his “brother.” Mash was the second oldest and he was the strongest of the bunch, so he served better for intimidation and backed up on those deals. The codenames Mash and Ortega would be used by others, but it was always Gaia and Mash that went to accept missions. Whoever had the codename Ortega would just wait for them to reconvene and hear the plan for the mission. Just as Brutak often did.

Brutak was currently meditating on his past. Meditation was a strange ritual he had seemingly adopted out of nowhere. He picked up on it in their travels and found that it brought him a lot of peace to simply meditate at times. He could swear that if he reached a very deep and calm state of meditation, he could hear the universe trying to speak to him. It was written off by any elders he talked to about it, but sometimes in his dreams he could swear the same thing.

As he reflected back, a specific instance reached out to him. It was one he thought about every so often, feeling a special connection to it. When he was younger on the ship and had started learning how to meditate, he would get strange looks from the other Zabraks in the Starspike tribe. One time he overheard people talking about someone named Koth and how a great tragedy is said to have befell them. He stepped forward into their room to approach them.

“Who is Koth? Was the tragedy on him or from his actions?” Brutak asked with great curiosity.

“Koth? Oh no, we were talking about Hoth, young warrior,” chuckled the older Zabrak.

The other one nervously looked to Brutak, “You just misheard us, kid.”

“What is the tragedy of Hoth?”

“It’s uhm… It was a beautiful world, but now it’s frozen. Shouldn’t you be practicing combat or something, kid?”

Brutak was so certain he had heard them talking of Koth’s tragedy, but none would admit to him such a thing existed.

Brutak was awoken from his meditation as Gaia and Mash returned to the ship. Brutak would get up to greet them and ask how it went. As usual, they’d say it went well enough and now they have work to do. Their latest mission involved spice traders with a secret facility that would need some guarding.

“A leak has informed these smugglers that some Empire scouts will be flying by to check out the area from an anonymous tip,” spoke Gaia. “We’ve been hired to deal with them in any way that ends with their secret base remaining secret.”

Brutak felt ease at hearing the main goal was to keep the base secret. He knew this was partially because he did not like to kill. Gaia was willing to work with him on this “strange nicety” he had developed, though sometimes it was not to be helped if it involved defeating stormtroopers. Mash scoffed as Gaia spoke of dealing with them in “any way.”

“It would be easiest to simply blow up their ships as they pass through,” Mash grumbled.

“But then they might want to send more knowing that something out there took out their patrol. More enemies for the next mission and that’s if we’re here for it,” replied Brutak, better known as brother Ortega to them.

“Ortega, that would just be better business for us and more blood to spill to prove our strength,” Mash said through gritted teeth. “I swear your weakness will be the death of us one day. You’ll show mercy and they’ll show vengeance or trick you in a way that hurts us all.”

“I wouldn’t betray you guys, Mash!” Ortega shouted.

“You know not how to control your emotions and outbursts! You are a fake Zabrak, somehow born into the skin of our kind but truly not one of us!”

“That’s enough, Mash. Ortega can do enough to get the job done. We work together as a great team and the three of us have perfected the Jet Stream Attack formation. So set aside your differences and let’s actually plan how we’re going to earn these credits,” Gaia said with his usual commanding voice.

Despite the booming and gruffness of Gaia, Brutak still felt depressed about what Mash said. It was the usual attitude he expected from Mash, but he felt truth in his words whenever he declared Brutak to be different from everyone else. That something about him was fake. It made him wonder if this was why his parents sent him away. Despite the deep hurt he felt at these comments, he tried to never act on it. Something in him drove him to drive the pain down and show him a neutral grace.

They discussed their plans for how to handle the mission. It was going to be a simple setup. They’d arrive at the space station A Baoa Qu which was disguised as a large asteroid cluster. The disguise would hold up as long as none of the ships actually went to dock on the asteroids for any reason. The Starspikes would set up on the outside and watch for the people coming through. Once they saw them, they’d divert them away and make like they were caught doing an illegal run. After getting the fleet to chase them into an asteroid field, they’d evade the group and pick off any stragglers. If any of them put up a fight further than that, they’d shoot at vital systems on the ships, forcing them to group up to rescue those from the failing ships.

The Starspikes set out their plan and it was all going accordingly. Their ship, a modified Star Courier repainted to black like their armor, was stationed in a hidden spot while they waited. Eventually three Empire scouts piloting Tie Scout ships came into their territory. It was just as the leak suggested meaning they were here to check up on the information that had been given to them. The Starspikes waited for them to pass and then revealed themselves, firing on the ship in the back. Brother Ortega gasped as Mash chuckled heartily, fueled with adrenaline from the upcoming battle.

One of the Tie Scouts seemed to stutter before it began to haphazardly wobble through space, weaving a trail of smoke out from behind it. The secondary Tie Scout followed behind it to rescue the pilot as he made an emergency ejection. The leader of the scouts banked towards the Starspikes’ ship and the chase began. Ortega ran through the ship to the front where Gaia was piloting.

“Don’t start with me, Ortega. Get back there and focus on those scanners,” shouted Gaia as he piloted them through the asteroid field. “The pilot will live. See to it that we do too.”

The two remaining Tie Scouts chased them into the asteroid field. Lasers flew through the area, some of the shots coming close to banking off their wings. Ortega shouted coordinates to Mash of asteroids to shoot while also shouting warnings to Gaia of incoming asteroids. The chase felt like it was lasting forever, each second stretching into eons for Ortega as he watched lasers and rubble fly.

Once through the asteroid field, the Starspikes continued to lead them away farther from the secret space station. The chase continued out in the open space where the danger was far greater than navigating the asteroid fields. Gaia constantly swung the ship back and forth as they performed several rolls and sways. Laser fire would occasionally dart past the ship now that they had no cover to hide behind. Mash was making steady bursts of lasers at the ships, some of his shots barely grazing the enemies but successfully keeping them inaccurate as well. Ortega watched on the scanners with worry as he tried to keep his trust in Gaia’s plan.

“Damn it, if only we held still for a minute, I’d shoot them both out of the sky!” shouted Mash.

“We just need to keep them moving around,” spoke Ortega.

“Sure thing, kid,” he replied sarcastically.

Suddenly the ship rocked violently as a muffled explosion sounded through the ship. Mash began to fire wildly as Ortega ran to investigate. Their engine had been hit and severely damaged. He ran to the front to tell Gaia amidst the alarm going off on the ship.

Gaia was struggling at the controls, fighting against spinning out of control. Ortega rushed to his side to help him as they veered off into space. They heard Mash roar a successful yell from the back, declaring he got one. Ortega could only focus on helping Gaia guide them to a nearby planet.

Their ship made a bumpy crash landing as they slid into a valley amidst a strange mountainous region. Ortega heard the slam of Mash in the back, falling out of his gunner cockpit and into the hall. Gaia and Ortega looked at each other, making a quick scan to see how they were. Gaia’s helmet had been cracked and he was banged up by the landing. Ortega was sore, but overall he was fine. He pulled out a medpac and handed it to Gaia as he went to check on Mash.

In the back he found Mash was unconscious and his helmet had fallen off. The man was a pale yellow Zabrak with small horns and long purple hair. He tried shaking him awake, but the best he got was mumbled words about “got the bastard.” Looking up, Ortega saw one of the Tie Scouts speeding across the sky with a dark voluminous trail of smoke behind it. Ortega looked back to Mash with a scowl and lifted him up to carry him to the cockpit. Ortega wasn’t the strongest of the bunch, but his strength still had a significant difference from the average Zabrak.

“I think they’re making emergency landings on the other side of the mountain,” spoke Ortega as he set Mash on a seat in the back of the cockpit.

Gaia swore under his breath as he applied the contents of the medpac to a wound on his skull. Ortega looked over at him, Gaia had removed his helmet revealing his dark red skin and black hair. It was kept short and in rows between his horns. One of his horns had broken. Ortega knew it would grow back in time, but that there would be shame.

“We have to find them,” he said with a flat tone. “Go do recon while I get Mash back on his feet.”

Ortega nodded and promptly left the ship with some scanning equipment. He headed in the direction of the smoke and wandered into the surrounding mountain. As he moved further in, his equipment started becoming unreliable. Out of nowhere it started to lead him in circles, like he was being drawn back to caves in the sides of the mountain instead of through them towards the pilots.

As he got ready to start navigating without the equipment, he felt a strange sensation. Like he was being drawn to the caves through the calling of an ethereal force. Removing his helmet, he felt he could hear it more clearly. He set his helmet by the entrance of the cave as he listened. Ortega followed, giving in to the strange instinct of his gut, and began to explore the caves. Armed with a simple light he tried his best to not get lost.

Some time later, he found a strange temple. The markings he didn’t recognize, yet he could understand it was a ritual of some kind. There were images depicting robed men of varying species wielding a hilt that emitted a blade of light. He took his light and tried to mimic it, feeling in tune with everything as he did so. He practiced in the cave as he walked through it, feeling like a lesson was being handed down to him. Finally he reached a circular room with a raised platform in the middle.

Taking a deep breath, he went to the middle of the room and sat down. He turned off his flashlight, trapping himself within the darkness of the room. He began to meditate as he had done so many times before, such as before their mission started. Time seemed to drag on as he sat in the dark, simply clearing his mind and opening it to any suggestions.

The room began to glow around him and rocks began to levitate. He could hear the sudden whoosh of a rising wind around him. Ortega remained still as he focused, opening his mind to a sign. He thought about Koth.

“Brutak,” a distant voice whispered.

Brutak began to open his eyes.

“What am I?” he replied.

“Ortega!” a closer voice shouted.

The wind became still, the rocks clattered to the ground, and the glow faded away.

“Ortega, are you lost? You miserable gravel-maggot,” the voice shouted again.

Quickly flicking back on his light, Brutak got up from the podium and dashed out of the temple. A few moments later, he found Gaia and Mash with lights near the front of the cave.

“There you are,” Gaia spoke. “For a moment I thought you got caught in a cave-in.”

“No, sir,” replied Ortega.

Mash jammed Ortega’s helmet into his chest, knocking an “oof” out of him.

“We found your helmet,” Mash barked. “Don’t lose it again unless you don’t want us to find you, gravel-maggot.”

“I thought there was a creature in there,” Ortega lied, “I was trying to make sure it wasn’t something that could ambush us. My scanners show the pilots should be just over the range.”

“Good. Let’s make sure they can’t report back to their command and scrap their parts to repair the Nebula-glaive.”

“What if they’re looking for us? Let’s just wait to bash em when they come through,” spoke Mash.

“Not likely, Mash,” replied Gaia. “No doubt they’re trying to repair their ship now to search for us with air superiority. Let’s not give them the chance.”

Following the smoke and scanners, the Starspikes crew marched through the mountains. On the other side they found another valley, this one having more trees and greenery in its environment. It didn’t take them long to find the crashed ships in a clearing. One of them had holes in it from Mash’s shooting and the other had crashed into trees. Two of them were clearing debris from the ship as the other rested against it. He had bandages around his arm and face.

“Let’s take them out now, we have no choice,” said Mash with glee as he grabbed his blaster.

Gaia laid his hand over the blaster, “Missing crew means reinforcements.”

“We can take them. It’s three to two. Plus no one has beaten our signature move,��� remarked Ortega.

“We knock them out and then what? Strand them to await those reinforcements?” spat Mash.

“We’ll knock them out and then keep them aboard the Nebula-glaive. We’ll make like our hideout has been compromised and dump them somewhere they can buy a new ship so to not make enemies with the Empire.”

Ortega nodded. Mash grumbled but then gave a “yes sir” before following orders. The three of them moved in quickly with combat sticks. They fired off their jetpacks and rushed in a straight line. The two pilots looked up in shock as Mash came barrelling down on them. He struck one of them across the head and to the ground. The other dodged to the side, but right behind Mash was Ortega. He lunged at the pilot, but he missed and barrelled past him. Finally Gaia came crashing into the dirt and sweeped his legs up with the combat stick. With the pilots on the ground, Gaia stood over them with his blaster drawn.

“We don’t want trouble with the Empire.”

“Well you’re in for it now! Do you know who that is!?” cried the one clutching his arm.

“Quiet, Gamspen,” commanded the one taken down by Gaia.

“We just need your parts. Then we’ll take you off to the closest port and part ways,” continued Gaia.

“No one has to die today,” Ortega added.

“But I’ll gladly see to it that someone does,” spoke Mash.

“You have the upper hand it seems,” spoke the pilot. “But you will pay for this.”

Mash leaned in to grab the mouthy one by the collar. As he did so, he raised his blaster and fired. They looked to see him shooting at the injured pilot. The man’s face turned white as he dropped the blaster he had been picking up.

“Hajonn, just surrender,” commanded the other one.

The man raised his good arm and stayed where he was. Mash looked back to the one he picked up.

“Why’s the old man so important?” Mash growled.

Gaia was already tying up the older one and handed rope to Ortega to tie up the injured one. They both looked to Mash as the man simply kept quiet. Mash shook the pilot.

“I said, why is he so important, huh!?” Mash shouted.

“I’m Commander Mabarah Revil,” spoke the older one.

“Terrabast! An Empire Commander?!” Mash shouted aiming his blaster.

Ortega panicked as he watched Gaia draw his blaster too.

“That is a problem,” spoke Gaia.

“W-wait,” called Ortega. “Maybe he’s more valuable to us alive.”

“Getting involved with capturing a commander is going to make more trouble for us than a simple hand off at a port,” spoke Gaia.

“We can ransom him back or something. Or maybe the rebels will pay for him.”

Revil kept a stern gaze as they debated his fate. Zabrak took a deep breath and then looked intently at Gaia, feeling a sudden calm guiding him.

“We need him alive,” spoke Brutak.

Gaia stood for a moment as if seriously taking in what was being said.

“We need him alive,” he repeated, lowering his blaster.

“Are you kidding me!?” shouted Mash, tossing down the other pilot. “Am I the only around here who doesn’t have womp rats for brains?”

It was some time later that they managed to get all the parts they needed for the ship. While they did repairs, Ortega would wander off to the caves to try and find the temple again. Once he found it again, he went back in to explore more. He tried to meditate, but it just didn’t seem to click this time. So he spent more time practicing with his flashlight the techniques he saw in the carvings on the wall.

Eventually his comm crackled to life as they radioed in that it was time for them to go. Ortega returned promptly and the Nebula-glaive fired back up. Gaia secretly communicated with their employers to let them know that their mission was successful and they’d be around for their credits in a few days. During this time, they flew off to the closest spaceport. Once there they released the two Empire scouts, stripped of their uniforms. Their best hope was that the men would either abandon their posts or take so long to return their call to the Empire that the Starspikes would be long gone.

Afterwards they picked up their payment from the spice pirates, obviously keeping it a secret that they had a new prisoner of their own. Ortega was assigned to guard duty as Gaia took them to another space port, this time trying to find any rebel contacts to figure out ransoming the Commander. Mash stayed on board incase of any complications to help with guard duty as needed.

A few days later, Ortega tried speaking with the prisoner.

“So, who do you work for?” asked Ortega.

“You know I work for the Empire, serving the glory of our Emperor,” replied Mabarah Revin.

“Yes, but I mean, you must have a higher up, right?” asked Ortega.

“That’s classified information.”

“Who am I going to tell?”

“It’s valuable information.”

“Well I’m really curious as to why they’d send a high ranking Commander like yourself out on a simple scouting mission,” pondered Ortega.

“I wanted to be in the field. The information came by suspiciously and I needed to be there in case of any rebel surprises,” he spoke plainly.

“Oh hey, you do share sometimes,” joked Ortega.

“You seem more relaxed than your colleagues about this.”

“Well… It’s a complicated matter with us.”

“I would really like something to eat.”

Ortega was caught off guard by the request and stared at him for a moment.

“Are you serious?”

“We hadn’t eaten before the mission. Now your leader only allows me a share of a ration per day. Who knows what the rebels will feed me. If they feed me.”

Ortega winced at the idea that they’d be trading him off just for someone else to bring down the metaphorical axe on him.

“Yeah, just… give me a moment,” Ortega said before standing up from his seat.

Ortega went out to the cockpit where Mash was currently sitting. Almost instantly Mash stood up with a blaster in hand.

“The prisoner, did he-?!”

“It’s fine, Mash. I’m just hungry. I won’t be any longer than when I use the bathroom,” Ortega said as he grabbed some food.

Mash glared at him as Ortega left the cockpit and back to the quarters they were keeping Commander Revin in. When he entered, he saw Revin’s eyes light up at the sight of some real food. Ortega set the bread aside as he undid a single and moved it to a nearby pipe. With one hand free, Revin was able to accept and eat the bread.

“This tastes far better than the Polystarch Bread they give us in our ration packs,” remarked Revin.

“I didn’t know there was worse bread than what we have,” remarked Ortega.

“Rear Admiral Jerjerrod says the veg-meat is a test of character for new recruits. Separates the devoted from the pretenders amongst the Stormtroopers.”

“That sounds like valuable information,” spoke Ortega.

“You paid with valuable bread,” replied Revin.

“So is Jerjerrod going to hunt you down and rescue you from those rebels?” asked Ortega.

“I’m sure he’ll send out a crew to find me. They’ll be hunting you, but if you just tell them where I’ve been left at, I’m sure they won’t make trouble for you.”

“I doubt anyone will find us, but if the Empire is as strong as they say, they’ll track you down no problem.”

A little bit later, it was getting to be Mash’s turn for watch over Revin. As Ortega was getting up to get the door for him, Revin coughed and motioned with his free hand.

“Ah right. I’ll need to fix that or he’ll kill me.”

Ortega leaned in and Revin moved his hand back by the cuff. As he undid the cuff around the pipe, suddenly Revin jammed his shoulder into Ortega’s face. Disoriented, he leaned back and then Revin grabbed the key out of his hand. He quickly undid one of the cuffs on his feet and stood up to knee Ortega in the face.

“Pathetic,” he remarked as he rushed to the door.

Ortega quickly got up after him as the door opened.

“Gravel-maggot, what’s takin-” Mash began, cut off by surprise at Revin at the door.

Revin quickly snatched the blaster from his hand and rapidly fired it into Mash’s gut and his leg. He doubled over as Ortega rushed behind Revin. Ortega chased after him until he made out the exit hatch and into the garage hangar they were parked in. He stopped for a moment as he heard the groans of pain behind him. He grit his teeth and turned back to tend to Mash.

He radioed Gaia after patching up Mash and let him know they had trouble with Revin and that he escaped. When Gaia returned he was furious.

“How the hell did this happen?!” he hollered looking over Mash.

“He needs a doctor,” spoke Ortega. “The prisoner he… he got my key and took me by surprise.”

Gaia took off his helmet and threw it across the room before marching up to Ortega.

“Don’t lie to me. How the hell could a man with cuffs around his feet and hands manage to grab a key from you? Even if he got a hand free, how could he get close enough to you without you breaking every bone in his body as a consequence for his foolish actions?”

Ortega looked away and Gaia shoved him into the wall. Ortega was startled and looked up to get a kick in the stomach. He doubled over and Gaia grabbed him by the back of his neck and brought him into the hallway.

“Remove the armor,” he commanded.

Ortega began to remove the armor, feeling anger boil up in him. How could Gaia do this to him? Mash needed help and here he was getting ready to do ritual combat for honor or some other nonsense. It wasn’t his fault that the Empire hires such conniving officers. He felt so betrayed. He showed the man kindness and this was what he did to him? And now his leader was kicking him around with a bunch of sucker punches?

Ortega looked up with anger as he stood in his simple clothes, a pile of black armor next to him. He motioned to Gaia to do the same.

“Oh no, that’s not what we’re doing,” Gaia said as his jetpack fired up.

“What?” Ortega asked with shock as Gaia slammed into him, knocking him onto his back.

Gaia grabbed him by the shirt collar and dragged him to the exit hatch. Ortega felt himself get lifted and tossed, tumbling onto the pavement of the garage. He scrambled to his feet as the hatch closed. He slammed himself against it and banged a fist against the door.

“No wait! I’m sorry, Gaia! Please! I can make things right!”

“Mash needs a doctor,” replied Gaia from the other side as he walked back to the cockpit.

Ortega ran over to the cockpit and began to beat on the glass. Mash groaned and turned, barely opening his eyes to see what was happening.

“I’m going to take him back to see a doctor. It’s unfortunate that you died out here,” Gaia said pausing for a moment to look Ortega in the eyes. “Brutak.”

“I can make things right!” he shouted again, slapping at the glass.

“Piss off, gravel-maggot,” choked out Mash with a grin, then long groans of pain.

The ship’s engines fired up and it rose into the air. Brutak felt the sting of no longer being called his “brother” name. He was officially outcast from the Starspikes mercenary group. But now he was about to lose his family again. Separated from his family back home, separated from his new family on the Starspikes tribe ship, and now kicked from his mercenary brothers.

“Don’t leave me!” he shouted up at them as they rose into the air.

Something welled up inside of Brutak in that moment. That calming sensation he had known before swirled around him like an angry whirlwind in his mind. Thoughts crashing against each other like waves of blood being spilt. He roared as he leap straight up, an unbelievable height, to latch on the bottom of the ship.

“You CAN’T leave me!” he shouted.

“So it’s true,” Gaia said. “You are some kind of freak.”

“There they are. Don’t let them get away,” shouted Commander Revin.

Brutak turned to the garage’s entrance to see a squad of stormtroopers behind him. They opened fire as the Nebula-glaive swung around and began to fly out of the garage’s upper entrance. Brutak tried to hold on as tight as he could, but he could feel the power within him draining away. He felt like there had been a well inside of him and he just dumped the entire thing. His grip loosened and a blaster bolt singed across his back as it grazed him.

He yelled out with pain as he fell to the ground and watched the spaceship dart away into the sky. Brutak limped over to a nearby container as he heard Revin shout and send a man in his direction. Brutak peeked over the crate to see a stormtrooper rushing towards him. He cussed and slinked away, running out into the streets.

Brutak crashed through a crowd that filled with gasps as they saw the wounds on his back. The stormtrooper came running through after him shortly after, shouting for everyone to stand aside. He was gaining on Brutak and time was running out. As he staggered through the streets, he tried to duck into alleys to hide. He found a dumpster and slumped besides it with a hiss of pain. Then he waited.

Hope began to renew in him as the sound of people passing by seemed to suggest he had gotten away. It was just as quickly dashed away as he heard the clunking of stormtrooper armor coming down the alley. He held his position, grit his teeth, and curled his fists as he got ready to fight. The stormtrooper got closer and closer and Brutak simply listened. He steadied his breathing and waited for the steps to get closer and closer. Then, once the stormtrooper was close enough, he lunged to his feet and swung at him.

The stormtrooper was startled as the gun was knocked out of his hand, but he quickly drew a tonfa that sparked an electric buzz on the end. He swung it at Brutak, hitting him across the face, and then jammed the electric end into his stomach. Brutak hollered as he fell back onto his injuries. He hollered a second time as his blaster wound hit the sidewalk. He looked up at the stormtrooper.

“It’s over, hornhead scum,” he said with vile.

Suddenly a blue stun blast hit him in the back and the stormtrooper collapsed. Brutak tried to lift himself up to see, but his vision was fading. All he saw was a man in red, then he lost consciousness.

Brutak later awoke in a strange place. It was unkempt and had several people moving around crates of supplies. One of them was using a radio to speak a coded message when he turned to see Brutak. He hung up the radio and introduced himself.

The man was Harc Anbleza, the leader of a small resistance on this planet Pasher. He often dressed in red colors to help signal who he was to other rebels and would-be rebels, though he often switched it up to avoid the imperials on the planet. Brutak wasn’t interested in joining their rebellion, but was thankful that they had saved him. He was only interested in escaping this planet and finding his tribe’s ship so that he could return to his people. He also wanted to find that temple and continue trying to learn what he could about it.

Over the course of the next several months, Brutak would try to repay his debt by helping them with odd jobs but none he found to be putting himself too far out into the open. Overtime he grew to like these rebels and how they treated him as an equal, though at times he was reminded of Anbleza’s authority as leader. It reminded him of Gaia at times.

In his off time, Brutak did what he could for credits. It wasn’t too hard to find grunt work on a desert planet like this, but the better work was enforcer work. Tracking down people who owed debts or taking care of people who had been too unruly in bars. Brutak was beginning to like how he could wield a stun baton and it reminded him of practicing in the strange temple.

Unbeknownst to Brutak, his leap in the hangar had been witnessed by several stormtroopers and Revin. One of those stormtroopers got drunk at the bar and spoke about how he saw the Zabrak make an absolute show of himself. Crying and shouting until he suddenly flew through the air. Most of the patrons ignored it and laughed about it, declaring his senses too addled by the drinks. One of them did not ignore it.

This news went through a specific network until the information reached a very interested party. That interested party then set out to Pasher.

Over the next few weeks, Brutak got a droid and a ship. He was making his final preparations to set out in the coming days, despite the rebels wanting him to stay.

“You should really think about the good you can do if you stay here to help us,” spoke Anbleza. “If you want to go off world so bad, you can join me in the Red Cruiser for supply runs. I’m the deftest pilot in the galaxy, no laser has ever grazed me.”

Brutak felt his back ache and thought about it before laughing it off.

“I can’t stay here forever. Also the credits are non-refundable on my ship.”

Brutak put a hand on Anbleza’s shoulder before continuing, “But I’ll say my goodbyes. Tomorrow’s our last mission together and then I’m off this sand rock.”

It was at this time the interested party was arriving.

The mission was a standard one, grabbing supplies from an imperial trade to injure the occupying forces and strengthen the rebelling. Everything was going according to plan, as it often does under Harc Anbleza’s command. Brutak was waiting to rendezvous with the rest of the team and help cover their escape outside the facility. He often took times like these to meditate as he did now. It was another standard session of meditation when suddenly a voice broke through his mind.

“Found you.”

Brutak fell off the box he had positioned himself on with a crash and looked around. There was no one there. One of the other rebels went to help him up.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m… not sure,” Brutak replied with hesitation.

He took another breath to clear his mind and tried again.

“You won’t escape me.”

“Who are you?!” he shouted looking around.

The other rebel shakily held his blaster, “Brutak? It’s me, Zerton.”

Brutak looked at Zerton with confusion. He knew she was the Balosar rebel he had been paired with. She appeared human except for the two antennapalps on her head. Was that why she hadn’t heard the voice?

“Did you not hear him?” asked Brutak.

“It’s just us and we gotta keep quiet or a patrol might come by,” she warned, still obviously worried about Brutak’s sanity.

“Something’s not right here…” he said, going to the door.

As Brutak went to open the door, it was flung wide open as two rebels with wounds came running through. Looking inside, he saw a black Twi’lek with many cybernetics fighting with an Aqualish rebel. The Twi’lek gave a toothy grin as he kicked the rebel back and then brandished a red lightsaber and slashed him in two. Brutak gasped. It was the weapon from the carvings.

In the glow of the saber he could see the black Twi’leks abdomen had been modified with cybernetics and so had part of his arm and face. It turned to him and he saw the orange eyes lock on his. The Twi’lek smiled.

“I found you.”

A hand grabbed Brutak and pulled him back as the door was slammed.

“Come on, we need to GO!” shouted Anbleza. “I can’t lose you too Brutak!”

“What happened to everyone else?” he asked as they ran after the other two.

“We took out the guards and everything was going great until he suddenly showed up. He was the mercenary they had hired on, the one we thought we could handle. But he was no mercenary. He was a jedi,” Anbleza said grimly as they ducked into an alley.

They could hear the door being kicked open with tremendous force behind them. They continued to talk as they raced back to the base. Brutak felt great sorrow for his fallen comrades. He had tried to distance himself before, but they all had grown on him. They were his friends and he was supposed to protect them…

“What’s a Jedi?” asked Brutak.

“Are you kidding me? You’ve never heard of the people who can wield the Force?” asked Anbleza.

“No. What’s the Force?”

“I… what? What rock have you been living under? I don’t under the mystic mumbo jumbo, but I thought it was all rumors that the Empire had Jedi, the force users, in their armies. They were like propaganda used by the republic and scary stories used by the Empire. Strange magical men who blades of light that could cut through anything and shield against blasters.”

Before Brutak could go on, the three of them stopped dead in their tracks. The rebel base wasn’t too far ahead of them, but the sight was clearly visible now. It had been totally destroyed and a ruined building stood before them. An arm hung out the window with a singed hole underneath it. They had tried to escape the wrath of this force user.

“How fitting,” spoke the voice from behind them. “A Zabrak cost me my honor. A Zabrak will restore it.”

The three of them turned to face the black Twi’lek, dressed in black and walking towards them.

“Jedi,” spoke Brutak.

“Jedi Hunter,” corrected the Twi’lek. “But something tells me that you’re not a Jedi if you’re making that mistake.”

“What do you want with him?” demanded Anbleza.

“I need him to restore my honor. To show Lord Vader that I, Mazer’kairn, am worthy of the Inquisitors. I can be a brother! I have purged the familiarity that cursed me before, I see the weakness now and it is gone! But I must hunt Jedi to prove my worth.”

He flicked on his lightsaber, the red beam crackling with uncontrolled power. It was a crude device poorly put together out of the remains of others. It matched the patchwork metal of his body.

“Now, are you coming willingly or do I get to chase you some more?” he said with a sinister grin.

“Get out of here!” shouted the Balosar as she began firing her blaster at him.

The blade moved swiftly to block the blaster bolts. One of them was deflected back at her and hit her in the leg. She grunted but continued firing as Brutak and Anbleza ran to the hangar.

“We have to get to the ships. His magic won’t help him in a dogfight,” spoke Anbleza.

“I can barely operate the ship in the first place. It’s why I got the droid,” Brutak warned.

“That’s okay. I’m an ace pilot. Best there is in the system.”

They continued to run until they made it to the hangar. There they got into their ships and set off into the sky. It wasn’t long until another ship was behind them, chasing them out into space. It looked like a heavily damaged and modified RZ-1 A-wing.

Lasers began to fly out into space as it opened fire on the Red Cruiser. Brutak wasn’t sure why, but it seemed like the enemy did not want to shoot him out of the sky. He wanted him alive for some reason.

Brutak let the droid take care of the piloting and dodging any lasers that tended to come his way. Otherwise he watched as the Red Cruiser zipped around through space, making spirals and spins as it dodged the attacks of Mazer’karin. Twin streams of fire burst out of the back of the RZ-1 as he blasted through space trying to catch the Red Cruiser. Harc Anbleza had not been lying or cocky whenever he talked about being such an ace pilot.

They had quite the dogfight as Brutak tried to help in whatever way he could. The droid beeped frantically and warned him to retreat from this senseless violence. The commanding voice of Anbleza came over the ship’s comms as his face appeared on a screen.

“You need to get out of here, Brutak,” he spoke.

“I won’t abandon you guys!” he shouted back.

“Oh please, you were set to leave anyway. I’ll be fine and there’s more of us out there. It’s you he wants, Jedi,” he said with the Jedi carrying an air of sarcasm.

“Harc… You don’t have to do this.”

“If you’re getting sentimental, I’m going to have to laugh at you,” he said with a smile. “Now go!”

The communication channel shut off and the droid beeped at Brutak.

“Yeah yeah… Let’s get out of here, quick.”

Brutak pulled back from the fight and began to fly away. The RZ-1 veered away from the Red Cruiser and sped at him, locking his targeting systems on Brutak’s engine. Just before he could fire, lasers shot through one of his wings. The RZ-1 began to spin out of control as the Red Cruiser zipped around it.

With a deep breath, Brutak steadied himself and darted off into space. He would continue to visit several planets along his journey as he searched for the lost temple of the caves. He tried to learn more about the Jedi and meditation, but was often met with the legends of those who had served in the old Republic. Tales spoken in whispers for those that feared the wrath of the Empire for speaking of the system before.

[hellsangelsheavensrejects]

The Purgatory Files: You Move Me (Into the Dark): Chapter 2

CW: child endangerment

Purgatory’s library was so small that Harry wondered if they’d be able to gather the information they were looking for. But then again, maybe the smaller town would have lent itself to a better collection of family records.

They made their way to the reference section. Harry had jotted down the family names of the disappeared children, and now pulled the paper out of his pocket to glance at it. “Check for census records, genealogies… uh, I can’t really use a microfiche without frying it, but you could also cross-reference newspaper articles. Look for obituaries, marriages, birth announcements, that kind of thing.”

“This whole you not being able to use modern day tech is annoying,” Wynonna informed him as she plucked the list from his hand and perused it. “Waverly has been through all these enough…So…that sort of shit would probably be downstairs. In the records.”

“Guess we’ll start there, then.”

They went downstairs. The records archive was larger than Harry had anticipated for such a small town, but then again, it had a lot of history– both written and hidden. For the time being, they were looking for the written history. You had to familiarize yourself with what was written before you could read between the lines and form a picture of what was hidden. He selected several books from the shelves and carried them to a table to dig through.

Wynonna slid into a chair at the table, then leaned across the table to grab one of the more recent–if you could call ten years recent–books to look through. As she moved, her hair swept forward in a luxurious fall of dark curls that Harry had to remind himself not to reach out and touch. She sat back with the book, and Harry cracked open one of his own. Riveting reading, these census records. He was on pins and needles waiting for the sequel.

After a long stretch of near silence, Wynonna hazarded a glance to Harry. “You can trust him. Dolls.”

Harry looked up at her. “Maybe.” When he’d first shaken the deputy marshall’s hand, he had felt a current of power there, restrained but very present. It didn’t necessarily mean Dolls was up to no good, but it did mean he was probably hiding something, as Wynonna seemed none the wiser about it. “Don’t think he trusts me, though.”

Her lips curved up into a wry smile. “If the situation was reversed would you trust you? Far be it from me to sound like an actual grown up but…It’s suspicious. And that’s saying something for Purgatory.” She paused long enough to lean a little closer, squinting at one of the names that was written down. 

Glancing up at Wynonna, he sighed. She did have a point. If the roles were reversed, he’d be suspicious of him too. His eyes lowered to the book again, but after a few seconds they strayed back up to settle on Wynonna again. “I get the feeling he thinks I’m encroaching on his territory.”

Wynonna caught Harry’s gaze and rolled her eyes. “Really? That’s what it boils down to? Macho male bullshit like TERRITORY? You’re men, not dogs.”

“Hey, take it up with him. He’s the one trying to murder me with his eyes every time he sees me. I’m just trying to do my job.” Whatever the hell that job was. “Look, I get it. I do. But the fact is, I’m kind of stuck here until I accomplish whatever it is I’m supposed to accomplish here. And–” he gestured to the pile of books spread across the table. “–I’m pretty sure this is a part of it.”

“He’s my boss. So…any murder eyes you’re getting are because of that. And he’s just trying to do his job too.”

She flipped another page and fell silent long enough to scan more names. A whole lot of dead ends. Wynonna made a face at herself. Okay that was awful even for me. Her hand rested on the record book that she was knee deep in.

“Johnson,” she said. “That’s a name that’s shown up a lot. About as common as your run of the mill Brittany but it’s something.”

“Well, it’s something to go on.” Harry leaned over to take a look at the book Wynonna was perusing. “Let’s keep following the trail. See if they’re connected with the same family, and what families that family is connected to, and so on and so forth. And we can also research the Joneses in Purgatory. If these kids are all related, there’s got to be a meaningful common thread in there somewhere. May be further back than that, but it’s a start.”

“It’s no Danvers, Putnam, or Good,” Wynonna muttered to herself. “And how related is related?” She resisted the urge to simply get up and walk away. Instead she shifted in her seat when Harry leaned over, intending to give him more room.

“Direct bloodlines from a common ancestor,” Harry said. “Family trees can branch in all different directions, but if there’s a common thread in there that goes back to a single source, that’s bound to be what we’re looking for.”

“So…a tree branch shaped needle in a haystack. Great. Awesome.”

Harry turned a page and frowned at one of the names in an early 19th century genealogy record. “Robert Jones, married one Penelope Lombardia, daughter of Jack and Lydia. Lombardia. Why does that name ring a bell?”

Wynonna leaned over to look at the line of text Harry had his index finger on. “Don’t know. But it does for me too.” She huffed and shook her head. “Damn. Wish Waverly was here. This is the kind of thing that’s right up her alley. She’s an information-gathering machine. Hell, she does this kind of thing for fun.” Wynonna chuffed and shook her head, as if she couldn’t fathom anyone digging through a century’s worth of geneological and census records for fun.

Harry couldn’t say he blamed her. “Guess it’s down to us masochists, then.”

Speaking of information-gathering machines, Harry wished he had brought Bob along on this mysterious, ultra-secretive secret mission. You’d think a massive repository of knowledge would be helpful in a situation like this, but he’d left the skull and its resident spirit of air safely ensconced at the Homestead this morning.

Probably would be a bit awkward anyway, talking to a skull in a public library. Besides, Bob had been... more than reluctant to come along on this mission, and hadn’t been willing to explain why, except that Harry himself had ordered him not to say. Which made about as much sense as peanut butter with ketchup.

Unless…

Unless the person who “hired” you had a huge grudge against that massive repository of knowledge to such an extent that the aforementioned massive repository of knowledge shit his metaphorical pants whenever said person was brought up.

Hm. A big, bad, ominous hm.

If it was Mab who orchestrated all this, what the hell was she after? It couldn’t be good. It never was with Mab. It was more likely to be torturous and mind-bogglingly terrifying with imminent danger to life, limb, and sanity. That was more her speed.

Harry absently scribbled the name Lombardia down on the little steno pad he always carried around in his coat pocket, and looked up as Dolls made his way down the stairs.

“Got hair samples from three of the kids,” Dolls said as he approached, a small stack of folders in one hand. He handed three small evidence bags to Harry, a child’s name scrawled in black marker ink on each bag, and studied the wizard’s face for a few seconds. “This spell of yours gonna deliver, Dresden?”

“Remains to be seen.” Harry slid the samples into his pocket and rose from his chair, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “You two might want to come with. If this works, the window of opportunity for finding them could be narrow.”

Wynonna flashed a quick, ready smile at Dolls before all too happily getting up from her seat. “Like I would stay in mouldy yesteryear.”

Harry made his way up the stairs back to the ground level, Dolls and Wynonna in his wake. “Any headway on the paranormal angle?” he asked Dolls as he walked.

“I cross-referenced the dates on the historic case files with the accounts of unexplained phenomena that BBD inherited when it was formed.” Dolls gestured with the battered old folders in his hand. “There were some freak weather patterns centered around the time period. Hurricane-force thunderstorms. Hail. Cyclones. Even supposedly rained frogs once, but that was never verified.”

“Big magic can effect weather patterns,” Harry said, reaching the top of the stairs and turning to face Dolls. “And the rain of frogs. That can be a glaring neon sign that someone’s messing with the natural order. You’re sure they were real frogs?”

“Yes. That much was verified.”

“Anything else?”

“An apparition seen about town. A bull-headed man, flaming eyes. According to the earliest witnesses, it would appear for a few seconds in a faint, translucent form, then vanish. Never did harm to anyone. The figure got to be a bit of a local legend, supposedly appearing every Halloween. The stories got more and more embellished and ridiculous as time went on.” He glanced at Wynonna. “You grew up around here, Earp. You’ve probably heard them. Horny Henry, passes from Hell to Purgatory every Halloween, looking for souls to eat. Near as I can tell, though, we haven’t had a verified sighting of him since just after the turn of the last century.”

Wynonna raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, the Halloween Krampus. A lot of the parents would use him as an excuse to keep kids in. Or at least go home early.” She paused. “I tried to avoid talking about him when I was younger. Because he was a demon and I was already crazy.”

Harry snorted as he pushed open the glass-paned door and stepped outside. “Horny Henry. Colorful.”

“So are the locals,” Dolls remarked.

Harry grunted. “Point taken.”

[impressivepress]

Félicia Atkinson reflects on her latest album ‘The Flower And The Vessel’ for Shelter Press

Navigating her way across ASMR reflexivity, vaporous atmospherics, spoken word, neo-classical and some prog-rock-infused sense of spacious abstraction, French producer Félicia Atkinson has been laying the foundations to a body of work unlike any other in the current landscape of electronic music, distinguished by its unique approach to melodies and textures, as much as its vivid interdisciplinarity.

Félicia just recently resurfaced with her tenth album, ‘The Flower And The Vessel‘, issued like all her latest long-players via Shelter Press – the multi-faceted label she co-operates alongside her life and art alter-ego Bartolomé Sanson. Keen to learn more about the roots and shoots of her subtle craft, recording methods and matters such as the sacred in art, we caught up with Félicia for an in-depth chat.

Your tenth album ‘The Flower And The Vessel’ is due for release imminently. It was recorded during a particular period for you, as you were pregnant and on tour. How did this pregnancy effect your creative and existential vision of things?

I was feeling happy and never felt lonely during that time. I enjoyed recording whilst travelling a lot, it was a conscious choice. I felt I was playing for my baby. All three of us were travelling together; Bartolomé, me and the baby in my belly and the way we were traveling was very contemplative and mellow.

The way I am touring is also a bit special: a book fair, a couple of exhibitions, research time in a library, a few shows. It’s not a typical way to tour. We can allow ourselves to stay a few days in the same place. Visit national parks. It’s not very interesting economically wise but I always have a lot of work done through those journeys.

For example we were in the Olympic National Park in April 2018 and I would record lying in the bed while watching the rain falling on the Douglas Fir. The smell was incredible. I love to use smells as possible scores. I wrote poetry there as well and made some drawings. Those travelling moments are very creative.

What about the title – ‘The Flower And The Vessel’ – it sounds quite mysterious…

In an act of creation, be it ceramics, flower arrangement, philosophy or painting there is always this dialogue between idea and form, between support and surface, or even, if you dance or sing, between the breath and the body…

How do you make room for something? What’s a vessel? What is it to hold something and release it? What’s a record? An imprint? What is it to leave a trace? What is it to carry a new life form inside of you?

Ten albums in 10 years is quite the accomplishment. What would you say is the biggest difference between the 2008 version of you and your contemporary self, both as an artist and person?

I feel I know a bit more what I am looking for, and therefore how to surround myself with people, places and things that give me joy and inspiration. I feel thankful for that. I also feel more confident with my tools in a way. But on the other hand, I feel I have much more to discover and work for. The journey is not over!

Music seems to be a means for you to question the idea of belonging and connection to the natural order. Is the inclusion of field recordings and organic samples for you the way to re-connect musically; to maintain that subtle balance between your imaginary world and the reality of our surroundings?

Maybe… field recordings are a way to sketch what is surrounding me in everyday life, but it also brings me in an everyday state of deep listening. I spend a lot of time listening without recording. I feel touched by those sounds, and recording them sometimes is a way to acknowledge them and archive them, get into a relationship with them. Care about them.

I remember a little owl I recorded in the south of France or a piece of ice melting in the Alps – I used those recordings on my albums with Jefre Cantu. All of a sudden this little piece of ice and this little owl were invited at the table.

They become part of an imaginary community of sounds. Right now the sound of the rain in the Swiss Jura is melting with the sound of a shower and little noises of my baby sleeping but also the keyboard of my computer. It’s already music!

You said you managed connect yourself to the world “with small gestures: recording my voice, recording birds, a simple melody”. It all feels like delimitating a territory through repetition, a concept such as the one Deleuze explored in his interpretation of the lullaby. Was it this kind of process you went through?

“La Ritournelle” is a beautiful concept. I enjoy reading Deleuze for his way of drawing space inside concepts, in making philosophical ideas more visual. In my case, I am not sure I am using repetitions that much, I never use loops, only delays, my time is pretty linear, rather than circular in the way I am building music.

Layers of linearities, like different layers of perspective in a painting. But I think and hear music as a space indeed, as a territory. I hear distances, levels, depths, volumes.

Actually, I am interested in lullabies nowadays also because I deal with the fact of putting my child to sleep and it’s always a challenge and a knowledge to get there, but I learn a lot from him. I learn about repetition, rhythm and how to draw a space with sound that he feels comfortable enough to fall asleep in.

I am very interested in another Deleuzian concept which is the one of “becoming” (“Devenir” in French). The ability to shift, evolve, transform and acknowledge that stage of transformation as something itself.

Music is also about time and time moves things, makes them different, makes them shrink or get bigger. It’s interesting in a sound perspective. Nothing is permanent. Some people say that time doesn’t exist though. It’s a vast question.

The press release speaks of your interest in exploring the gap between micro and macro-cosmic scales, and throughout the album there’s indeed moments of intense focus and sudden distancing, acute close-ups and ample zoom-outs. How do you create this effect of space-time distortion?

As I stated previously, I think sound as a matter, the same way I do a sculpture for a painting or an installation. I use Logic Pro and basically cut, paste and stretch my sound like it was something flexible and soft.

I had “revelations” about micro and macro while living in the Alps surrounded by the mountains, wayyy older and bigger than me, and also after visiting the desert in Arizona several times, California, Utah and New Mexico.

I am fascinated by the Petrified Forest in Arizona and this gigantic delay it offers: a tree turned into a stone, gently washed by years of time. It makes me dizzy and happy at the same time.

You seem to have used a wealth of instruments on this album, both emulated and not. How large was your palette?

I wanted to bring in the same “real” instruments and digital instruments, so I went into two studios and recorded there, and also used midi instruments. Each time it’s an encounter.

The instruments are kind of a friend with whom you are playing ball and try to find a harmony between what you want to make and what the instrument can offer. I enjoy very much this dialectic. And also, I have a strong sentimental relationship with Fender Rhodes, vibraphones and Wurlitzer. They are good with me.

Your  new album gives further space to silence and pauses, allowing more magnitude to listening appropriation I think. Whilst Satie, Ravel and Debussy are quoted as influences, I also felt some artistic lineage with the more minimal side of Arvö Part’s work. Is it something you relate to?

Thank you for mentioning it. I really admire his work and his relationship to the sacred. His music could totally play a fatherly role to me even it’s not. And of course his piano pieces are important for me. But his music has a total absence of humour, which makes sense with his music of course and the context he writes it in, but it also shows that we are not addressing the same kind of contexts.

My music is more “minor” and less serious in a way. Maybe more feminine and pagan also? Animistic? I don’t know… I have a personal relationship with the sacred and the invisible and for sure it infuses in my compositions. But also, I feel I am way more superficial.

I wish my music could be be played in a supermarket or in a dive bar. You know, in the daytime I listen mostly to Neil Young or Springsteen’s Nebraska.

On ‘Des Pierres’ you collaborated with SUNN O))) guitarist Stephen O’Malley. Can you tell us more about the making of this track in particular?

Stephen invited me to do a session for his radio show Acid Quarry at Music Unit Studio. We recorded a whole day and he produced and mixed the track with Martin Antiphon. He just brought this book by Roger Caillois that is actually one of my favourite books and we used it a score, full of serendipity. I played different keyboards and used my voice and Stephen played the guitar. It was very natural, spontaneous and “à propos”.

You co-run Shelter Press with your partner Bartolomé Sanson, a label that doesn’t only release music but also books, zines and more. How important is this interdisciplinary format to you?

I guess it’s natural since I am a visual artist and a musician and we have a lot of books and records in the house. It’s a bit crazy also because it means it’s way much more work to do.

Is it safe to say self-releasing your music makes the making-to-issuing process “purer” and less of a hassle?

My music was shaped by the fact that I would release it on Shelter Press. It’s an everyday dialogue with Bartolomé. I can talk and think about what I want to do for my releases all the time, it allows me so much comfort, support and care that it’s difficult to imagine leaving this kind of super fitted context.

What’s coming up next on the label?

We’ll announce soon!

What values do you particularly cherish?

Care, freedom, positive energy, peace. I believe we have to care about the nature that surrounds us, the animals; the people and the variety of ideas. I believe in the power of imagination and I don’t think poetry or abstraction are superficial.

I believe in education and I feel children and babies should be more at the center of society because they give us a lot to think about through their new eyes; and because they are the future.

What faults do you least forgive?

This is a very strange question. I feel it’s a bit too moral and personal at the same time. I would ask to yourself in return: what faults do you least forgive?

What are your plans for the summer?

I am playing at Musica Sanae Festival in Sokolowsko in Poland and at Atonal in Berlin with two new commission works. Right now I am in a mountain in Switzerland looking at the clouds, after having played in Bern two days ago at Damfzentral (great people) and on my way to play a show at Ooor Records in Zurich (great people as well). We’re gonna take a walk in the forest under the rain in a few.

~

by Baptiste Girou · July 30, 2019

[seahawkerspodcast]

3 IN, 3 OUT – Sweet Home CLink East – Seahawks v. Giants

by fellow 12 Clinton Bonner

Sea Hawkers Pod 12s Own Clink East

  The sun? Check!

The fun? Check!

The grub? Check!

The love? Check!

The 12s? Check!

The start? Well… we'll get to that

The finish? Check!

The big ‘road' W at CLink East? Check and mate.

What can we say fellow 12s… sometimes life hands ya bacon and this past Sunday at CLink East was just one of ‘dem days. With that, let's start with a big thank you to a gaggle of Flockers and let's start this thing off right saying thanks to Brandan and Adam who trekked all the way in from Big Sky Country!

I hadn't met this dynamic duo sans being ‘cyber friends' for a time now and I do want our world to know they are who you thought they would be! Genuine good dudes, genuine passion… Brandan a bit more cerebral, stoic, dare I say calm in the face of 12-dom and most often with a satisfaction laden grin across his bearded mug with just enough snark to let you know he's listening … Adam-isms you hear on the pod aren't just his ‘pod life', that's him! He's fired up, fast talking, opinionated, really sports hates Bruce Arians, mentions Jared a good bit, and would make for a perfectly good East Coast Italian-American if he would just learn to wave his hands around a lot more. It was fantastic to get to hang with these dudes, so thanks for putting it all in motion.

Of course there is the Flock who came out and were equally amazing to hang with including Stephanie and Cameron Cole, MK and Josh, Gary Blum and his awesome daughter Jenna, Jon Wondrack, Kofi Poku, Christian Tjessem and Mary (all the way from Norway so they did better!!!) and many others throughout the day including the boys, Stuart and Adam from the Pedestrian Podcast … or as I like to refer to it, the Seahawks pod across the pond!

And I have to give some love to my cousin Joel and our boy Hot Rod, two Giants fans who not only endured being surrounded by 12s all day, but also cooked us steak and provided us with the foodvention of the year … the CLink East Burger aka charcoal grilled cheeseburger with tri-tip steak and loaded potato salad on a bun of goodness.

the CLink East Burger

  Sometimes, life hands ya bacon.

  In! This group of people right here. #3i3o @clintonbon http://pic.twitter.com/6lWmTihXta

— Sea Hawkers Podcast (@SeaHawkersPod) October 23, 2017

  You know the drill by now … when we win, we start with an IN, so let's do exactly that.

  IN – Sir Mix-A-Lot

Only if she's five-three

  You may think I'm foolish… but upon re-watching, I looooooooved what this offense did to open up the game . The very first play in fact was 5-wide, motion Rawls to the backfield, read-option run to the right, Rawls gain of 6.

OMGosh, just what Dr. Bevell, Medicine Woman ordered. The offense in our 2-first series was a 9 outta 10 great. We saw Rawls & Lacy with gains of 5+ yards on the ground. We saw an early deep shot to EDB (that's Elite Doug Baldwin for ya n00bs) as well as a classic Doug 3rd down conversion as he found a soft spot in the middle of the field. We saw consistently good run blocking and good enough pass protection… and heck, we even saw a Jet Sweep and a key completion to Darboh.

They call this something in sports and no, not just a functioning NFL offense… but it's called being dynamic. Like any good Nirvana tune (or heck even a copycat Nirvana such as Oleander), our offense had a great mix going early of power running, quick hitting conservative passing, and stretching the field with shots over 20 yards.

Baby got back alright … Me likey where this offense is growing.

  OUT – Can't Stop the Feeling

Those first two drives we relished in just above resulted in about 100 yards of offense and our ‘Hawks dominating time of possession with around 10 minutes of clock earned. But, it also netted exactly zero points.

Loved going for it on 4th and 2 (or so) from the G-Men 2, it was the right call.

What wasn't right in those first two drives were un-timely unforced errors in the form of false starts, blocking whiffs, and a case of the ‘Mamma Dropsies'.

Ifedi's offsides on drive 1 to take us from 2nd and 5 to 2nd and 10 killed that drive's ‘mo.

We suffered another offsides on the following drive deep in Big Blue territory… Que Lastima!

With Britt out (injured a few plays previous), on 2nd down from the Giants 1.5, we suffered a jailbreak as Lacy was met 3.5 yards in the backfield for a huge loss… and finally…

Jimmy. Jimmy, I love ya … c'mon man, been defending you since the trade, you've GOT to make red zone catches for us!!!

2 B+ drives that are A's if we just execute. Frustrating.

Flocktimus Prime had this squared up from jump street, well done Keith.

Not finishing 1st half drives is #OUT. Hopefully just a step between no offense and dominant offense. @clintonbon #3i3o

— Keith Ketover (@FlocktimusPrime) October 23, 2017

    IN – Jarranimo

Faithful flock, if you dig #3i3o, we're grateful and we hope we provide some extra love, extra value, extra spicy sauce to our collective ‘Hawkra that makes ya smile. So, for the faithful readers, you'll remember that our pre-season post discussing 3 unsung Seahawks that would make or break our year, we dedicated 33.33% of that article to one Jarran Reed.

Now you read (from the aforementioned article of destiny):

“Our Run D was OUTSTANDING in 2016 and very often it was due to players like Reed filling their role – and their gaps – professionally and allowing others like Wagner, Clark, Wright and more to make big plays. Reed was more than above average last season against the run and on a line with the likes of Avril, Bennett, Clark, and now Sheldon … so what if he records only a few sacks?

While Nazair Jones was one of the darlings of pre-season – and deservingly so – Reed enters year-2, nearly as a forgotten man.

There’s no metric here to follow, this one is all about your gut. Watch the trenches with intent. If Reed is being consistent up the gut, consistently clearing lanes for our LBs and DEs to make big plays, consistently non-flashy but darn effective … our Seahawks will be marching on to Minnesota come February.”

This wasn't Jarran's only impact play, but it's the one we'll all recall, and with great reason!

  Jarran Reed forces a fumble on Manning http://pic.twitter.com/fjN1Tw27f9

— Billy Marshall (@BillyM_91) October 22, 2017

For those that can or already have re-watched the game, focus on Reed for a bit, you will continue to see what this man is doing right up the gut. He's progressing and getting even better in year 2. Jarran Reed is a big, big factor for our ‘Hawks and as my brother Scotty likes to say… Love to say I told ya so. Want more proof?

Samuel Gold knows his stuff:

Jarran Reed ranked 2/66 interior defenders with a run stop % of 30.4%. He also had the strip sack on Eli Manning as well. #Seahawks

— Samuel Gold (@SamuelRGold) October 23, 2017

OUT – Sexy Deep Baaaaaaalmost

First He giveth, then He taketh away. Such is life on the roller coaster we call 3 IN, 3 OUT. And while us 12s must be our best Fat Boy Slims and praise Russ like we do, this is the facts of Seahawks life … and they can’t all be Jo’s or Tooties now can they?

Russ has mastered the intermediate – 20 to 34 yard, drop it in the bucket pass. See Baldwin’s beauties if you’re not following the floating ball here people.

One aspect of Russ’ game that is a little askew this season is the really ‘Sexy Deep Ball’. Sure he connected with P-Rich with some razzle-dazzle and one heck of a snag by our decadian wearing Colorado Buffalo, but we’re focused on a slightly different type of SDB.

Multiple times this year, and 2x just this passed Sunday, Russ missed a wide open Baldwin and Lockett, respectively. The good? Baldwin and Lockett are consistently getting behind DBs this year, and even misses on SDBs open the field for later offensive domination. The bad? Russ needs to make some of these opps count.

He takes an OUT in a game where we dominated and he threw for ‘3 and 3’. This is a game that should have been 34 to 7 and in the not-too-distant future we’ll be up against much, much better offensive talent where 24 probably won’t cut it.

  IN – Russ to Jimmy… Wait, What!?

I know, I know… I'm a shill for Jimmy Graham, it's not, not true.

We all know about the 2 HUGE drops … they are deserving of an OUT unto themselves, so we’re not sugar coating it here peeps. What excites me is the way Jimmy is being used over the last few weeks.

When Jimmy dropped what shoulda been his first TD of the day, it wasn’t some fade route that sailed aimlessly over Jimmy’s head (though we had one of those too). We love Russ, and we should vigorously defend him to any NFL fan that sees him as some average QB… Trust me, they’re still out there!!!

But Russ is on the struggle bus when it comes to End Zone fade routes. It’s like watching Matthew Broderick’s 1998 Godzilla… it just makes ya ill.

Jimmy’s TD drop and then subsequent TD catch show us that Bevell and co. seem to have learned that we can still use Jimmy in the Red Zone and throw him a different route than the fade… this is VERY encouraging.

Graham’s other big drop might have also went for 6 and surely woulda went for 35+ yards. OK, he beefed it and dropped a wide open delivery from Russ… but where was Graham when he Buckner’d that bad boy? He was wiiiiiide out, streaking down the left sideline on that route. Combine this with the more 5-wide schemes we are seeing, combine this with Russell going for well over 300 yards on the day, with 3 TDs… combined with this true fact:

The #Seahawks are 12-0 in the regular season when Russell Wilson throws three touchdowns in a game. https://t.co/dod5P73UJA http://pic.twitter.com/7EbVQTxfA4

— Aron Yohannes (@AronYohannes) October 23, 2017

And this is a big, big IN.

OUT – Ticky Tacky Crappy

Dominating win, on the road, which was quickly followed by a work road-trip of my own. So pardon the easy route here of using an OUT on two types of penalty calls that just bug the snot outta me.

Defensive Holding on run plays – There must've been some committee meeting this offseason to put a spotlight on defensive holding during run plays because, well, I just can't for the life of me remembering seeing this call all that much… ummmm ever. Now, it seems like once a game this dumb-dumb call gets used. Hey NFL, why don't you work on ways so that the Refs are LESS involved and not creating new things to play ‘gotcha' with… ugggh, OUT.

Our ‘Hawks ‘luck' with offensive PI calls … I just re-watched the Lockett TD that was negated and again, the improper insertion of the white stripes to hurt the ‘Hawks is evident. I realize other teams get banged for offensive PIs too, but we just seem to more often AND usually, as was the case here, the calls are pure rubbish.

Bonus IN

We dominated, so a bonus IN, why not?

Quickly, this goes to Justin Coleman and not for covering guys that would otherwise be on a practice squad, but for his abilities making tackles near the line of scrimmage. Justin Coleman for a 7th round pick… we've discussed this before, but my oh my, this is turning out to be a complete steal.

If you have the ability to re-watch the game go to the 12:53 mark of the 3rd quarter and you'll see why Coleman gets the bonus IN!

  From the Flock!!!

My favorite segment of #3i3o is hearing it from YOU … so let's see what ya'll had to say this week!

Feeling bad for Ross Bell of the UK Sea Hawkers and the Pedestrian Podcast … he was the 3rd leg of the UK stool, but he couldn't make the trip this time out – we missed ya Ross!

  Early #3I3O 4 @clintonbon. When your podcast partners fly off to New York for the game and leave you at home! #OUT @adamdnathan @Stu_Court

— Ross Bell (@RossBell1984) October 19, 2017

  Flocktimus' game was strong this Sunday!!!

  The left side of the line was #IN. @EthanPocic@MarkGlowinski73@Rees_o71 getting it done! @clintonbon#3i3o

— Keith Ketover (@FlocktimusPrime) October 23, 2017

  Ron didn't specifically tag this #3i3o, nor does he have to – I just thought this was a popular opinion that ought to be re-shared:

  Ron bringing the Pepper heat on Jimmy

  Samsies here, I just loved this post so had to re-share this gem from Erik. While I can't preach for Frank the Tank's grasp of the Laffer Curve or P-Rich's position on legalized pot… I can back this ticket.

  1,2,3… What's Next!!!???

Back to CLink West we go. I'm fired up to watch this evolved LOB go up against Watson, Hopkins, Fuller and others. The weather looks pristine as of right now and that matters because Russ ain't great in the rain. I expect our O to keep tightening things up and my spidey sense is telling me we're about to see our best offensive performance of the year.

Let's just see if good ole' Mamma Cleo's crystal ball is crystal clear.

Until Sunday Flockers … see you on Twitter and on the Sea Hawkers Ring of Honor on FB where if you use the tag #3i3o I'll do my bestest to get your account included in the weekly dash of extra Seahawks goodness!

A HUGE Thank you to Brandan and Adam for creating something special here and Go ‘Hawks !!!

via The Sea Hawkers Podcast http://ift.tt/2h9D010

[shinybaublecom-blog]

Hell let Loose holds all the promise of realistic, platoon-based World War II shooter. With vehicle combat, combined with strategy elements including resources and airstrikes that can be called in from off the map, this WW II title has a lot going for it. Aiming to raise AU$136,000 (roughly $106,000/£80,000), Developer Black Matter has launched a Kickstarter campaign, which finishes before the end of this month (October 2017).

Indie developer Black Matter decided that they would only begin our Kickstarter campaign once they had a playable client from end to end. That means launching the application, connecting to a server and actually playing the game at an Alpha level of quality. Black Matter are thrilled that they can do all those things, and that all funds from this Kickstarter will go towards fleshing out and widening the scope of what they feel is already a deep experience. The team has released a nine-minute gameplay video that focuses on one squad protecting a capture point, of which there will be multiple on any given map.

As you can see from the gameplay video there are a few glitches or improvements that will need to be ironed out to improve the player’s immersion, namely the recoil. (which appears to be nearly nonexistent). There is still a lot we do not know, like how the strategy elements will work yet. One player will take on a commander role that will presumably oversee the battlefield and issue instructions to the 50 soldiers on their team, but there’s not much detail on that. What we do know is that capturing different points on the map will yield different resources: holding a fuel depot will allow your side to refuel vehicles faster and controlling a munitions depot will let you launch off-map naval strikes.

In Hell let Loose, Communication will be key, as there’s almost no HUD (or crosshairs) to speak of which ties into the theme of realism, and there’s a heavy emphasis on player positioning and team movement in the field.

13 different combat roles are available for players, and again it is unclear how effective the these roles will be or how role selection on the battlefield will change the dynamic of the fight.

Apart from the slight items that need to be developed, we think it’s well worth keeping an eye on. As with most kickstarters, there’s a variety of pledge levels, and $24.95 (roughly £18.65) will get you a Steam Early Access key when the game migrates to the platform next year, and the game when released will be around the $29.99 mark. A closed alpha is due early next year.

From the developer:

Hell let Loose Key Features

HUGE BATTLES – 100 players per game, 50 per team

COORDINATE – Win through teamwork, tactics, and communication

A NEW METAGAME – Capture sectors and resources to beat your enemy into submission

COMBINED ARMS – Over 20 different player-controlled vehicles and deployed weapons

EPIC THEATER OF WAR – Do battle across a 1:1 scale 4 kilometer-squared map

MORE THAN THE TWITCH – Supply, capture and building systems ​

EXPERIENCE HISTORY – Historically accurate arsenal with realistic weapon behavior

A MODERN ENGINE – Developed for Unreal Engine 4

Warfare Game Mode

Instead of capturing a small flag, the entire map is divided into capture sectors – forcing each team of 50 players to make continual tactical decisions as to where they should attack and defend. ​ When a sector is captured, it will generate one of three resources for your team, creating a complex metagame that will influence your push to victory.

Will the cost of spending Fuel on a Tiger tank inflict significant enough damage to the enemy to wrest control of the western flank? Will the Munitions spent on a Typhoon strafing run clear the distant hedgerows and open a path to the town of Carentan? Can the bridgehead at Feuilly be maintained without sustaining devastating losses to your Manpower?

3 Levels of warfare

Strategic

Play as the Commander and decide on the grand strategy as you deploy your forces and adapt to the ever changing situation on the ground. Communicating via radio, it will be up to you to summon reinforcements, supplies and powerful aerial and naval strikes while accurately assessing the situation on the front line.

Operational

Establish supply lines of trucks, transport vehicles and armored recovery vehicles. Supplies will allow your forces to construct minefields, defenses, and Garrisons. Failure to supply the front line will result in a devastating collapse.

Tactical

Play as an Officer and establish Observation Posts and Garrisons before working to determine the best course of attack or defense for your unit. Mark targets with your binoculars to notify the Commander and work together to flank, reinforce, supply and obliterate the enemy.

Epic Maps

Our first epic theater of war captures the beauty and foreboding of the Norman countryside in the early weeks of Operation Overlord, 1944.

Dense woodland, hedgerows and canals frame rolling stretches of open countryside, while small villages and towns provide the perfect choke-points to command crossroads and high ground.

It takes approximately fifteen minutes to cross on foot, and our unique capture territory system demands a new strategy and offers a totally different experience every time. Instead of pushing in a linear tug-of-war, you will be forced to fight across a realistically wide battlefield with an ever-developing front line.

Will you roll armour into Brecourt Manor from the west in order to quickly secure the northern approach, or will you attempt to choke the enemy in the stretches of open farmland between the eastern crossroads and the orchards that encircle St Marie Du Mont? Or will you become bogged down in house to house fighting as you battle tooth and nail to take the Manor at Hauchemail?

Realistic Vehicles

Deliver supplies to the front in an Opel Blitz supply truck, roll across the fields in a Sherman Firefly, flee a fearsome Panther tank in a Jeep or bombard the enemy position in a Priest. We plan to introduce up to 20+ vehicles into the game to serve a wide variety of functions.

Our first priority will be the inclusion of Supply and Transport vehicles before we widen the scope to the most prolific vehicles (Panzer IV, Sherman) and then introduce interesting variants such as the Sherman Calliope, Puma SdKfz 234 and Tiger II.

Realistic Weapon

The 16+ historically accurate rifles, sub-machine guns, light machine guns, heavy machine guns, pistols and assault rifles are all accessible in realistic limitation. With no crosshair, a focus on realistic weapon behavior including jamming and overheating barrels, and a brutal suppression system. Hell let Loose gets as close to the historical truth of the conflict as possible without becoming tedious or chore-laden.

Grenades, mines, mortars, heavy ordnance, anti-tank and tank rounds dismember, while flamethrowers light up the morning sky. Each one of the 14 playable roles will be equipped with a unique array of equipment inspired by their historical counterparts.

More Information:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/blackmatter/hell-let-loose https://www.hellletloose.com/

Hell let Loose by Black Matter - now on kickstarter @hell_let_loose #sbc #gamingnews #kickstarter #gaming #ww2 Hell let Loose holds all the promise of realistic, platoon-based World War II shooter. With vehicle combat, combined with strategy elements including resources and airstrikes that can be called in from off the map, this WW II title has a lot going for it.