#closer to animal than to the colonial standards of man

[textualviolence]

HYBRID-CYBORG DUALISM IN ONE BEING MY BELOVED

[qualxon]

Kaiju 101

Gojira Families

Masterlist

Buckle up, sunshine - this is a lengthy one!

Standard disclaimer: none of this is canon unless stated otherwise, everything said here relates to my own AU and my own headcanons. It's all just theories for funsies!

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So, here we are getting into the details of Gojira family dynamics; in this, I will be discussing the following points:

Social attitudes of Gojira subspecies

Courtship behaviours and male/female dimorphism (dabbling a little here into reproductive anatomy)

How a family unit typically works

Part 1 - Gojira Social Attitudes

To begin, we'll have to go over briefly how different Gojira subspecies interact with others of their own kind.

So let's start with the big G-Man (referred to as "Class A" for convenience from hereon out). Class A Gojira are the tanks of the species: big, tough, aggressive, always ready for a fight. As such, individuals are typically more solitary than their smaller cousins, preferring to claim their own territories as opposed to sharing the space and/or resources with others. They're highly independent once they reach adulthood, and even adolescents have been known to try their luck at claiming their own territories before they're fully grown.

The next subspecies belongs to Zilla Jr., which I will call "Class B". They're a smaller cousin species to Class A, and being smaller they have learned about strength in numbers. They live in colonies of anywhere between a hundred and three hundred individuals, though it stands to reason that bigger colonies could exist. Easily the most social of the subspecies, an individual who may be separated from their colony is not expected to survive for very long as they cannot easily adapt to being completely alone.

Next is "Class C", Nanta's subspecies. Class C Gojira are a sister species to Class B, distinguishable mainly by the fact that they are a little more independent than Class B. Class C will still live in "colonies", but numbers typically range closer to 10-50 individuals, so smaller groups are also known as packs. They're smaller again than Class B, but their comparatively sturdier build makes them better suited for a degree of independence. These Gojira can be more aggressive than Class B, but they're still borderline domestic when compared to Class A. Think of them as the Shetland pony of the Gojira genus: appears relatively docile, but can will bite your fingers off.

Finally, we're on to the last main Gojira subspecies, Komodithrax, AKA "Class D". They're a slightly-more-distant cousin species to Class B, and they're significantly more independent than Classes B and C, preferring groups of less than ten individuals, but are most commonly found living independently. Despite this, however, they're actually less likely to display aggressive behaviour towards a stranger of their own kind than, say, a Class B specimen.

Part 2 - Courtship behaviours and dimorphism

Overall, there's not a whole lot of dimorphism between male and female Gojira of the same species, since as a species their priorities in evolution have been largely focused on being good at fighting. And that includes fighting each other from time to time. Look at it this way: if we have two Class A Gojira, where one is this hulking mass of radioactive lizard and another is smaller or otherwise meeker, then that wouldn't exactly be a fair fight between the two solitary animals of it came to that. That's something that applies across all Gojira subspecies.

In fact, the level of dimorphism between males and females is so low that Gojira actually possess secondary reproductive organs that can allow an individual to produce their own offspring independently, regardless of their sex.

I've mentioned before that Godzilla is the one who laid Ajax's egg, and that's why. Godzilla's sex is male, and so has testicles as his primary reproductive organ, but as a Gojira he also has ovaries as a secondary reproductive organ. These are linked in his body in a way that allows Godzilla to fertilise his own eggs. This applies across the species.

When an egg is created in this way, the offspring will start off as a carbon copy of the parent while developing. However, Gojira embryos are highly sensitive to radiation, and can actually "absorb" the radiation of other Gojira (and other kaiju) if exposed to it for long enough. Hence why Ajax has some of Mothra's features. This is a bit of a duct-tape fix to ensure that the species' gene pool doesn't become stagnant, and presents to opportunity for new and stronger genes or characteristics to replace weaker ones present in the parent kaiju in the same way as it would if two Gojira mated the good ol' fashioned way. No genetic enrichment = sad DNA that is going to mutate wrong and Cause Problems at some point.

Now. Let's talk courtship.

Again, I'm going to break it down by subspecies. Starting with Class A, their main courtship tradition is displays (they've got big dorsal plates, may as well use 'em!). Long story short, if all goes well with the display, and the courted Gojira likes what they see, then they will then mimic the display, and that's basically step one to success.

Step two is something that again applies across the whole Gojira species: gifts. Specifically, a fresh hunt, so that the courting Gojira can prove to their prospective mate that they can provide for a potential family.

Being more sociable than Class A, Classes B, C and D pretty much skip the display part and instead show their interest by building a nest or den for their partner. Typically, if the partner accepts the gesture, then they will begin adding "home touches" to the new home, be it by padding the floor with foliage, tidying things up, etc. If the nest may not seem like it's doing enough to catch their partner's eye, then on top of providing gifts, the courting Gojira will attempt to engage the other in a dance of sorts, like how some birds hit a lil' boogie together when courting.

There's one more thing that all Gojira look for in a potential mate, and that's relating to their healing.

Because Gojira basically live to fight, the radiation that they store does way more than just serve as a big gun: it can be used to advance the healing process of any injuries. To Gojira, a sign of a healthy mate is a lack of old scars or injuries (obviously with some exemptions, as they can't exactly regrow limbs), as it means that their radiation is working as it should. A Gojira with old scars or lasting injuries is considered to be "unhealthy" in some way or another, because clearly they can't heal themselves properly, and that's not something that many would want to risk passing on to their offspring.

Part 3 - How a family unit works

Once more, I'll break this down into Classes.

Class A and Class D Gojira, being the most independent of the species, will just stay in their mated pair to raise their offspring. During this time, the parents will split the responsibilities into turns to ensure that neither is kept at the nesting site for longer than they would like. This means they they'll swap turns on who hunts, who watches the young, who sleeps first while the other keeps watch (particularly before their offspring are old enough to fall into the same routine as their parents), etc. Very productive and efficient.

Class B have more of a "it takes a village to raise a kid" approach to family dynamics. As these Gojira typically live in large colonies, there's usually a communal nursery within the territory where the young are looked after by a mix of parents and older siblings. If the adults leave to hunt, then it's down to the older young (usually between the older juvenile and adolescent age groups) to keep an eye on things until they themselves are old enough to join the adults. While parents do resume responsibility for their own eggs and young, it's not uncommon for other family units to chip in where needed too.

Class C Gojira work in a similar way, only on a much smaller scale and with more juggling of responsibilities. For instance, sometimes older siblings will be left to watch the youngsters while the adults are out, but then sometimes it'll be just the adults watching over the best while the older siblings go off on their own or with their parents.

It's also worth noting that Gojira infants have a survival instinct that leads them to imprint on the first thing they see, or at least the first thing that doesn't try to outright kill them. Likewise, adult Gojira (particularly in Classes B and C) will actually adopt other Gojira or infant kaiju if the correct hormones happen to be going through their brains at the time.

In short: if they're too old to imprint on it, chances are they'll adopt it.

[ssnakey-b]

Cowboy Bebop Retrospective: Asteroid Blues

WARNING! SPOILERS AHEAD!

Hello, everybody! Welcome to the first post of the Cowboy Bebop retrospective! And since I am doing this in chronological order, let’s start with the very first episode: Asteroid Blues.

Synopsis:

The episode, and thus the entire show, opens with a black-and-white flashback sequence. Aside from the distant ringing of bells and the minimalistic tune of a music box, it is silent.

During a cold open (the only one in the series, if memory serves, and if it’s not, it certainly is a rarity), we see the main character walk solemnly in a surprisingly old-looking district considering the show is set in future space colonies, followed by footage of him involved in a massive firefight, during which he is apparently injured as blood can been flowing on his face, the scene being intercut with footage of a rose in a rain puddle, the very same one that can be seen in the header, said image slowly gaining colours. Once the scene ends, we suddenly cut to this:

With the intro over and done with, we then turn to the Bebop itself and are properly introduced to the first two of our main characters: Spike Spiegel and Jet Black, the man with the most on-the-nose name in the universe. Spike is training his sweet martial arts moves, and stops when Jet calls him for either lunch or dinner (it’s hard to tell when they’re in space).

Jet briefs Spike on an interesting bounty , El Mariachi from Despera- I mean Asimov Solensan, a drug pusher, bank robber, murderer and all-around stand-up citizen hiding out in Tijuana, on the run from both the police and the mob. Which is the name of an asteroid, not the Mexican city. Get it, though? Asimov? Because this is a sci-fi show?

Meanwhile, Spike complains that his chinjao rosu has no meat in it. He starts listening again after Jet reminds him that the impressive list of bills they have as a result of Spike’s impulsiveness is the very reason they can’t afford meat in the first place.

However, even after that, Spike isn’t interested in going after Solensan, arguing that TIjuana sucks. But once Jet brings up that you can find some of the best meat around, Spike is suddenly down with his plan.

And so they’re off to Tijuana, where we are introduced to another vital staple of the show:

Yay, it’s the three old men! The guys who always seem to cross the Bebop crew somehow yet never actually have anything to do with the plot! Also, to this day, I still have it in my headcanon that the one in the baseball cap is an elderly Ash Ketchum, and nobody can convince me otherwise.

They do what they do best, which is argue, until Asimov walks in, accompanied by his lovely and pregnant wife, Katerina.

They order drinks, but it quickly becomes obvious that it’s not what they’re actually there for and before long, Asimov discreetly draws a vial of some strange purple liquid with a thin red strip inside it from under his coat and shows it to the bartender. By the way, I love how it shines despite the fact that it makes no sense considering the way the scene is lit. Let’s not forget, this may be one of the more realistic examples of the medium, but Cowboy Bebop very much still is an anime.

The two of them go to the back, where it is revealed that the drug is called Bloody Eye and is apparently very sought after and very expensive (at least “real” Bloody Eye, implying that there are cheaper fake alternatives). Meanwhile, gangsters pull over and get ready to attack. Meanwhile, the bartender insists that Asimov demonstrate use the Bloody Eye on himself to prove it’s the real deal. Through a POV shot, we are shown that the drug heightens reflexes while making it feel like time is slowing down and also giving your sight a dramatic red tint.

The gangsters attack, shooting the place up and murdering an innocent pinball machine (RIP). Asimov and Katerina, however, easily manage to fight them off, the Bloody Eye even allowing Asimov to literally dodge bullets.

And providing us with beautiful visuals.

While this is going on, Spike is consulting an old Native American shaman sitting by a bunch of discarded electronics, as you do, who tells him where to find “the red-eyed coyote” and tells Spike that he will meet a woman who will try to kill him. He also sees death after that, with Spike dropping hints about his own backstory when he says he already died once, and it already was because of a woman.

This guy is called Laughing Bull, by the way. Evidently because of his jovial disposition.

Jet finds the bar, or rather what’s left it after the shoot-out. Two more gangsters arrive, giving him the opportunity to knock one out and get the other to tell him what he knows about Asimov.

While stopping to refuel his fish, the Swordfish, Spike unknowingly meets Asimov in a dingy bathroom, then Katerina outside. She’s carrying a big bag of groceries and Spike pulls the old “bump into them to steal their shit” trick, grabbing some of her food while pretending to help her pick it up, establishing that Spike has pickpocketing skills.

When she figures it out, Katerina isn’t amused at first but actually ends up being a bit impressed once he reveals just how much stuff he managed to steal without her noticing.

You know it’s a well written show when it can honestly make stealing food from a pregnant woman look whimsical.

He gives it back and apologizes, explaining he was starving. They start having a nice chat, where we get more character development. Spike explains he’s been flying the Swordfish around for 10 years and hails from Mars. Katerina seems to have a very idealized of that planet. She dreams of leaving Tijuana to move there, as she believes that living there is a guarantee for an idyllic life. Spike replies that it’s true... if you’ve got money.

Katerina says she and her husband should be able to live there happily, then. One of those silences that speaks louder than words settles, as Spike figures it out (assuming he wasn’t just putting on a show up until now) and asks her if she and Asimov truly intend to move there and spend their life on the run.

Asimov catches him off-guard and starts choking him. He probably would have killed Spike too if it weren’t for Katerina telling him to stop.

Jet finds Spike and tells him he’s giving up. It’s too hot, everyone who goes after Asimov ends up dead. Spike, however, shows that he managed to snatch one of their Bloody Eye vials and fully intends to keep going after them.

And he does! Finding them in a restaurant, he confronts Asimov. An amazingly directed and animated fight scene ensues.

It is broken up when more mobsters show up, both in the air with aircrafts and on the ground with cars. Katerina and Asimov make their escape, but in the middle of all the excitement, a stray bullet grazes Katerina’s belly, which doubtless sends the audience in a cold sweat... until Bloody Eye starts spilling out, revealing she wasn’t pregnant at all and her fake stomach was actually a cache (points for cleverness, wonder if any drug pusher tried that in real life).

Asimov yells at her, screaming that they’re done for if they lose the drugs. At that moment, Katerina seems to come to a horrific realization.

The mobsters don’t stop coming, but Jet saves the day, ramming their cars with his craft, the Hammerhead, whose tip looks like it belongs more on an excavator than on a spacecraft.

Asimov and Katerina escape and Spike is hot on their tail, taking out several mob ships in the process. Spike is getting ever closer to them as they desperately try to run away. They all escape the city and reach space, only for them to be face by a police barrage, literally hundreds of ship ready for them. Stuck between the cops, bounty hunters and the mob and with her husband’ mind and body being swallowed up by dope, Katerina no longer has it in her to keep fighting.

“There will be no honeymoon on Mars. This is the end of the road” she says. Giving her man the mercy of a quick death, she looks a shocked Spike straight in the eyes as she awaits the hail of bullets from the cops.

We cut back to the Bebop. Bookending the episode is Jet cooking. He can’t find Spike in his usual spot though. He finds him in a windowed room, staring longingly into the eternity of space after he finishes training. Spike asks what’s for dinner, and Jet replies “a special chinjao rosu”.

Thoughts:

Ho boy, what a way to start the show. Now, if I’m being honest, this is a fairly run-of-the-mill episode for Cowboy Bebop, but that says more about the quality of the show than it does about that of the episode, because it was great. And while it’s in my opinion not among the best the show has given us, I think it was an excellent first episode.

It represents the show perfectly, everything you need to know about it in terms of tone, style, aesthetics, characters and storytelling is here, which is no doubt why it did such a great job of capturing people’s attention. After you’re done seeing the episode, you know this isn’t your average anime. And indeed, I heard the message loud and clear, especially since my idea of anime at the time, and really TV in general, was stuff like Pokémon and Card Captor Sakura, so needless to say, this blew my mind, especially considering I only check it out to see what this show that took The Simpsons’ slot on the channel was. My 11-year-self* was like “are you even allowed to make stuff this good on TV? Let alone in cartoons?”.

And yeah, I think this is the show that really made me realize that cartoons could be made for an adult audience (as well as 11-year-olds with a taste for things not for his age) and be mature, thought-provoking and immensely emotional. I’m really not sure the show would have been so successful if it didn’t make this good of a first impression.

And make no mistake, it being an “average” episode by Cowboy Bebop’s standards doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its memorable moments, as the image of Katerina floating into space while drugs spill out of her has been stuck in my mind from the very first time I saw it, and it’s still one of the things my mind goes straight to whenever I think of the show.

So yeah, it establishes the first two of the main characters, and while this is by now means the only, let alone the first show to gather its cast over time, I think this is especially nicely done here as the fact that there’s only two of them so far really gives time to develop them well in spite of the episode only lasting about 20 minutes (not counting the ending credit and teaser for the next episode).

Jet being introduced by cooking immediately speaks volume about him, showing that in spite of his massive size and fairly scary appearance, he’s by far the nicest and most restrained one of the group, preferring to stay behind and supervise everything, and enjoying quiet activities, but it also shows he can occasionally be the muscle of the group as well in the couple action scenes he gets.

I’ve seen him described as “fatherly”, and I think that fits him well. An older, stern, physically imposing yet disciplined and calm man, who takes care of the home life and is generally the voice of reason, but does have a sense of humour and can get tough when necessary, mostly to protect the people he cares about.

Spike’s major characteristics are laid out as well. From his physical prowess to his generally laid-back attitude, his sarcastic sense of humour and his nihilism (in a good way, as in he doesn’t think life has any inherent meaning or purpose, but that only means you’re free to give it whatever meaning and purpose you value).

As I alluded to earlier, this first episode also does a great job of giving people a good idea of what to expect in terms of visuals. Thinking about it, this is definitely one of the episodes that falls the furthest on the “western” side of the show (I mean, it’s set in a place called Tijuana, for crying out loud!), but sci-fi elements still pop-up, such as the gates, and I think it was a good idea to introduce them in the first episode in order to make people comfortable with it, as these are definitely one of the harder sci-fi elements in the show, and I’m not sure people would have just gone with it so easily if they’d gotten used to the more realistic aspects of it first.

There’s an especially great moment near the end of the episode that I think illustrates the show’s mixture of western and sci-fi perfectly, as the characters are flying off into space, we see the background quickly shift from the old-fashioned run down city to the vast emptiness of space, with the gates and spacecrafts, in like a second, it really goes to show how these two styles clash yet also merge.

We also get small touches you may not have noticed at first (but your brain did), like having parts of the city being visible almost at an 90 degree angle in the background, the unnatural visual reminding you that in spite of the realism, this IS a sci-fi show.

Another aspect of the show this episode establishes right away is the cultural diversity.

Yes, Cowboy Bebop is very famous for portraying a multitude of cultures and ethnicities, something you didn’t see much in Japanese works of the time (and you still really don’t). The world of Cowboy Bebop frequently features Black people, Middle-Eastern people, Asian people, Native American people (as seen in this very episode), etc... and various people of mixed ancestry. And just look at the above screenshot, where you can see Japanese, Chinese, Arabic, English, Korean and I think I see some Russian and perhaps Thai.

This is something that carries on throughout the show as signs are often translated in many languages, and the announcements at the gates can also be heard in multiple languages. It makes sense when you think about it. People left the Earth to colonise the Solar System, and the earliest settlers would probably be people from all over the world being mixed together. They probably wouldn’t just give up on their cultures, but they’d end up being far closer together than they used to.

By the way, that diversity isn’t just for show and the writers have clearly done their homework as Laughing Bull can be heard calling Wakan Tanka to protect Spike, Wakan Tanka apparently being a spirit (and not just any but “the great spirit”) according to Lakota Sioux beliefs.

Another aspect it shows very well is the atmosphere and tone. It is very dark and heavy in places, but it’s also got some lighter moments. It also displays the show’s affection for tarantinoing. You know, when characters are having dialogue that has nothing to do with the plot and they’re just bullshitting around to add to the general feeling of a scene and the work as a whole?

Now of course, it doesn’t take it to Tarantino’s extremes, and it’s usually in the middle of a scene that is related to the plot, like with Spike complaining that he finds Jet’s lack of beef disturbing while Jet himself is trying to talk business, but it’s nice that it’s there. It’s something love (probably a big part of the reason why I like Tarantino movies so much). I think it adds a lot of character to a work. It makes the world feel much more alive as it shows that the people inhabiting it do have lives outside of the story we’re following.

I’ll take an average story in a world I feel attached to over a carefully crafted one that doesn’t make me care about the world it’s set in. And here, we have a great story set in a world I love, it’s the total package!

Oh yeah, and this is also the first appearance of the Bloody Eye, a very interesting bit of lore, as the drug ends up showing up again and becoming a major plot point later on. I also like the implication that there’s fake Bloody Eye, which is a surprisingly realistic detail for a fantasy drug, as in real life, cheap alternatives to expensive drugs are a thing, and they usually are cut down with all sorts of shit that makes it even worse for your health than the real stuff. Again, there’s a contrast between the very fantastical look of the drug versus the realistic implications of its existence.

Next, I have to mention the visuals because man! I remembered the animation being good, but I never realized it was THIS good. I guess maybe becoming an artist myself has made me gain even more respect and appreciation for this sort of work, but the animation on Cowboy Bebop is still impressive to this day.

The characters and vehicles are pretty much always on model (and indeed, I don’t remember ever seeing a scene that looked off in this show) in spite of being very detailed.

In that regard, some of the shots that I found the most impressive are actually ones of very little importance, like Jet tossing his bell pepper in the pan. Just think for a second of how much of a pain in the ass it must have been to draw several frames of these goddamn peppers, keeping track of which one goes where and making sure their shape and size stays consistent.

Another very impressive one is one Jet arrives to save the day, and we are then treated to a shot of the Hammerhead with Jet inside it slowly tilting downwards. Again, being able to keep all these details consistent, and drawing all these frames at a slightly different angle each time to give the impression of the camera panning, is nothing short of stunning if you have any idea how difficult and time-consuming animation can be.

I heard a big part of the motivation behind Cowboy Bebop was to showcase the studio’s animation abilities, which is why it often has weird trippy scenes and bizarre characters and locations, well mission fucking accomplished, guys!

I also want you to look at the screenshot above because another aspect of this show’s look I always loved is the expressions and body language, being, again, very realistic, but still ever so slightly exaggerated to give it more life. I especially remember this being one of the few shows that often had the characters’ entire jaw move when they talk, not just their mouth. This ended up being a big influence on me as this is how I strive to draw my characters myself. Animated enough to feel intense, but still realistic enough to be relatable.

And as much as I liked anime at the time, I always got annoyed whenever it went super deformed, and I still do, as I usually felt it was trying way too hard to be wacky and ended up ruining its own attempted effect, so it was very refreshing to me to see an anime that kept it believable, but still remembered it was a cartoon, and to take advantage of that fact when they do need to show more dramatic expressions like Asimov’s psycho grin up there.

It’s not just characters either, as we often see parts of the vehicles shake and rattle, and even some details I wouldn’t have thought of but which add a lot, such as a car springing up and down slightly as characters sit in it or exit it. Very very nice attention to detail.

And last but not least, concerning the visuals, yet another thing I love about the show’s aesthetics, and something that helps it feel very grounded, is how almost everything is a bit used up. You have all sorts of little details like scratches on mechanics, cracks on walls, graffiti, posters, dirt, etc... all things that further help make the world feel lived-in, rather than just decoration for a story. They’re like so many scars letting you know that a lot happened there and those who lived to tell the tale have seen some shit.

Now, I also have to bring up the writing. I actually don’t have much to say in the regard. It’s just plain good, and pretty much everything I’ve talked about so far is kind of part of the writing process already, and once again, this first episode does a very good job of letting us know what to expect. Sad moments, happy ones and everything in between.

One thing I will say that never really registered in my mind but that I noticed when re-watching this is that sometimes, we don’t quite know how the characters got where they did and knew where to go, they just kind of show up where they need to be.

But that’s not a bad thing! Because we really don’t need to see how they knew where to go. We can surmise they found some info, followed some trail, or even just made an educated guess on their target’s most likely destination, but to see scene after scene of them tracking their bounty would be pointless, so just having them be there makes the most sense and keep the story flowing (again, keep in mind they only have 20 to 25 minutes per episode).

That’s another thing to keep in mind for any writers out there (including myself): we don’t need to know the exact details of how or why something happened. As long as it doesn’t create plot holes, if we can have a good idea of how they did it, if it makes sense for them to be able to do it, if it doesn’t add anything to either the story, the characters, the lore or the atmosphere, you can skip to what’s important.

And last but certainly not least, there’s the music. I mean... how can you talk about Cowboy Bebop and not talk about the sublime soundtrack by Yoko Kanno and the Seatbelts?

Yet again, this episode sets the mood by showcasing some of the common theme tunes of the show and letting you know that you’re own for lots of western-inspired music and lots of blues, jazz and bebop (who would have thought?).

It all complements the visuals perfectly, and it’s probably not an accident that the show opens with no dialogue or sound effect, but with music, going from the melancholic sounds of a music box to the extremely energetic “Tank!” in the intro, yet another thing highlighting the contrasts of that show.

However, having said that, one thing I noticed through this episode is that, as deeply as it is tied to the show, it doesn’t play all the often. Most of the scenes have no background music. That’s another thing that keeps the show feeling down-to-earth and realistic, and much like with the expressions, it makes the times when it does get stronger all the more powerful.

Trivia / matters of interest:

Couple interesting things I noticed regarding the French dub (which, as I alluded to in my announcement, is excellent, it’s worth noting for anime). I remember that in the English one, Jet describes the food he’s preparing as “bell pepper and beef”, which, you know, is one way to call it, but as I mentioned, the French dub does go the whole hog and gives it its Chinese name, Chinjao rosu, which I feel fits in well with the whole “cultural mixture” thing the show’s got going. Plus, I fele like Jet explicitly mentioning beef makes it sound like he’s just being a dick to Spike.

However, while the French dub is good, it’s not perfect, so we have some weirdness, as Laughing Bull refers to Asimov as “the red-eyed coyote”, which of course alludes to his drug habit, whereas Spike later calls him “the red coyote”, omitting the eye part. Granted, I realize it’s a nitpick and you could easily explain that away as Spike not remembering fully, but I just like “red-eyed” better.

As I mentioned before, Tijuana is a real place and interestingly, this one has a place called Zona Norte, which also exists in the real Tijuana and is a red light district. Guess the settlers who founded this town must have been Tijuana natives.

And that’s it for this first episode. I hope you liked it, thank you very much if you stuck to the end. I realize this was a long read but since this is the first episode and gives me an opportunity to mention recurring elements from the show, I really wanted to cover everything. Future instalments should be shorter. I’m also hard at work on the next part of the FF8 translarison. That’s gonna be a big’un too, so I’m not sure when it’ll be posted, but the screenshots are all done, promise.

You know, this episode was pretty much the perfect average of everything Cowboy Bebop, and yet it was still one of the heavier episodes of the show. We need some levity to clear the air a bit, so thankfully, next time, it’s all about a cute puppy, in Stray Dog Strut!

* I first saw it in the summer of 2000 when it was shown on a channel called Canal +. It was not actually the first time it was aired over here but I do believe this is when it got really popular, as the channel that first broadcast it was a smaller satellite channel, with satellite television not being very big yet at the time.

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 14: Nice Sociable Folk

Everyone is very nice to us, except one grumpy guy.

This one fought me, folks. And Quarantine Depression didn’t really help. So it’s a bit less pared-down than it could be. But speaking of people who should probably be quarantined, have some virulent fungus.

We return to the scene: Valeria has just unceremoniously yanked a mandrake root out of the ground, and it’s doing what mandrakes do, screaming at the top of its lungs (...do plants have lungs???) and raising hell. Which is not GREAT if you’re in the middle of the Spooky Woods Where Monsters Live.

We’re reckless idiots, but that’s on brand.

Shoshana rolls a Nature check to know it’ll stop screaming on its own eventually, and that getting it into our Haversack will stop or dull the noise. Otherwise, the recommended mandrake-harvesting technique is that extreme heat or cold will stun its screaming. Usually people harvest them with daggers heated over a flame.

Problem: Shoshana is only one who knows this, Clem and Val are stunned, and it’s LOUD, so it’s hard to talk. So it’s up to the sorcerer to handle it. She doesn’t want to burn the dang thing to a crisp and make it useless as a spell component, so blasting it with magic is right out. She snatches a torch out of Clem’s backpack and lights it, heating up her small dagger.

Clem fails to shake off the stun, but Valeria recovers. Gral throws an inspiration at Clem, who’s still stuck, and frantically glances around the area to see if the BIG LOUD NOISE has alerted any enemies. In fact, it very much has. A variety of heavy shapes are uprooting themselves out of the dirt, turning blank mossy faces towards us. 

Shosha tries to hurry up on silencing the mandrake, but her haste causes her to fumble it. At least she doesn’t damage the plant.

Gral, still watching, sees the grassy, lumpy creatures pick up rocks and start hurling them. Shoshana gets bonked. A rock bounces off Valeria’s armor. Gral’s looking at those ones, when another one hefts out of the ground behind him and conks him with a big ol’ stone.

“Ah,” Valeria observes. “Yeetroots.”

Clem, even with inspiration, still fails to unstun herself, clutching her hands to her sensitive elven ears.

Gral swings his sickle into a yeetroot’s rooty, tuberous body, a thick sap dripping from the gaping wound. Meanwhile, Shoshana takes a second stab with her hot dagger and manages to silence the awful screaming.

The one Gral bloodied picks him up entirely and yeets him at Clem. Gral bounces off the drow’s armor comically. Clem remains completely undamaged while Gral pouts at being unwillingly Fastball Specialed. Valeria and Shoshana scatter, dodging another volley of heavy rocks.

Taking an entire orc to the face, though, finally breaks Clem out of the stun. She’s ready to lumberjack down some trees - oh, wait, Gral’s lying there moaning. The battle medic gives him a good slather of Space Mayo, and he’s fine, though he probably smells like a sandwich.

Gral and Shoshana pop off a couple of spells for minor effect, the tuberous creatures shrugging off most of the effects. They’re bothered enough to retaliate, though; the one Valeria’s facing off against hefts her into the air for another round of PC Bowling, flattening Shoshana. The hail of rocks from the rest of the Yeetroots doesn’t let up, but their aim is only mediocre.

Aethis snacks on a root-person Valeria nicely carves up for them, and as Clem gets to slicing and dicing it looks like the fight’s falling in our favor.

Suddenly, a short human guy in rough clothing charges ungracefully out of the woods, crossing through the undergrowth strangely quickly for someone so unathletic-looking. He clonks a Yeetroot over the head with a long wooden staff, whacking it a few times for good measure so it stays down, and then looks up at us with a frustrated expression. “What the hell are you kids doing? Get out of here!” he shouts irritably, like we’re trespassing on his lawn. 

He’s got a bit of an accent. It’s much heavier than Shoshana’s; even by her small-town standards it’s the rural accent of someone who speaks Old Valdian regularly.

Gral Dissonant Whispers a Yeetroot, causing it to run past Clem and the Old Dude. It runs straight into Clem’s sword and dies. Shoshana, Valeria, and Aethis efficiently dismantle the last one standing.

Clem’s ears, still sore from the mandrake’s cry, pick up additional movement through the woods. Sounds like the Yeetroots weren’t the only ones interested in loud, clumsy prey.

The old man seems to know it too, and he starts to scold us. “Pulling a mandrake while the woods are like this? Dummkopfen! Now get outta here! Scram!”

“I’m sorry, we didn’t have a choice-“

“What are you doin’ yakkin’? MOVE!” he shouts, turning and dashing into the underbrush. Shoshana barely catches him muttering “those IDIOTS” in Old Valdian as he scrams.

Well, we’re definitely not gonna stick around either. Old Dude went northeast. The Sturmhearst camp is to the south. We’re all thinking this weird crotchety old man is a druid, so he’s gonna know the best way to go and also we could totally ask him a few burning questions. With a concise nod to each other, we dash after the druid, Valeria swinging herself up onto Aethis’ back.

The wooooooooods are aliiiiiiiive, with the sound of monsterrrrrs, but following the druid’s trail we manage to dodge down an old gully and manage to shake any of them who came to investigate the commotion. Unfortunately, we’ve just put all those monsters in between us and the Sturmhearst camp. We pause, crouched in creek bed, as the last walking tree’s footfalls fade into the distance.

Gral breaks the silence: “…wait, was that a druid?”

Shoshana grumps. “How are we gonna FIND him? He could be a SQUIRREL by now! And I’m surprised he even speaks city-folk Valdian.”

We got the sense of how he moved – he hasn’t left a footprint, but we’ve picked up his pattern a bit. We could keep following him, and Valeria suggests the quest will give time for the monsters attracted by our noise to disperse. Gral doesn’t want to pass up the opportunity to find out what the Druids know about the Prisoners, and Valeria’s hopeful he might have seen the other Order of the Rose knight about.

Shoshana beefs her Survival check. We’ve been doing well following his pattern of not disturbing plant or animal tracks, trying to think like a druid wood. But we hit a dead end.

And then Clem casually points out some tracks none of the rest of us can even make out.

Please. Clem Haxan has tracked wood elf partisans. One aging human is nothing.

We follow Clem’s lead for about an hour. As midday approaches, we notice the sense of vibrant, chaotic, suffocating life is fading a little, and the sickening-sweet scent of flowers and spores has lessened. We come upon a grove of trees, standing tall, centered around one utterly massive tree in the middle whose canopy is just barely open enough to allow beams of light to spear through. In every beam, a sapling has begun to grow. Others, a little more seasoned, have grown tall and thin to push up through the great tree’s canopy.

Deeper in the grove, Shoshana can hear a voice in Old Valdian, and it’s mostly swearing.

“Dumb fuckin’ kids, I swear, first it was those meshuggenah bird mask idiots, now we got - what the hell were those morons doing, stirring everything up? Hard enough when the woods are just tryin’ to kill ME without having to keep an eye our for-”

It seems to be a one-sided conversation. Rambling, but pausing for responses that we can’t hear. Shoshana cautiously steps closer.

She wants to be respectful, but the closest thing Old Valdian has to deferential is a greeting without commentary. “...Hello?”

The voice pauses, and then speaks to its silent companion. “Do ya hear something? Go check it out.”

We all roll real bad Perception. Gral is starin’ real hard, and he only sees a squirrel loop the big tree. We don’t hear the druid say anything else.

She tries a Message cantrip: “We wish to respect your solitude, but we need to speak with you.” Hopefully a decent Persuasion roll will do.

“Wait. Hold up,” the voice grumbles in Old Valdian, heaving a massive sigh. “They’re idiots, they’re not gonna-” 

Something big makes a “GRAAHK” noise. 

“No, they’re not gonna go away unless I talk to them. Look, they followed me here. I knew it was unavoidable.” He calls out to us in common Valdian. “All right, come on in, no funny business.”

Being seasoned D&D players, we’re hesitant to cross the giant patch of fallen leaves, but it turns out it’s not a booby trap; it’s just what happens when you’re under a big ol’ tree. They are pleasingly crunchy and probably serve as an excellent intruder warning.

The druid isn’t pleased with our caution. “Either leave or come over here! Let’s get this over with.”

We circle the tree to find a small hut in a sunbeam, with a little garden. The old guy, looking like a hippie Danny DeVito, is sitting outside on a fallen log, prodding a small campfire with a stick as he heats a kettle over it. More notably, there is an owlbear curled up next to the fire.

“I wouldn’t get too close, he likes eatin’ fingers,” the druid grumps. “That’s why he’s called Fingers.”

“Oh! This is Aethis, and I’m Kyr Va-”

“Yeah, yeah, get to the point.”

“Are you a druid?”

“Ah, right to the point.”

We manage to stumble over a quick introduction, and that we want to ask him about the Druids’ actions against the artist’s colony in Holzog.

“So all druids know each other, huh?” He starts peeling a potato, unimpressed.

"I don’t know how druids work! There was an organized attack against cultists of the Key, at an artist's colony at Holzog Valley. Do you know of this, and are the Druids in an organized resistance against the Prisoners?"

 “Are druids an organized anything?” Shoshana snarks.

Druid DeVito rolls his eyes. “Look, mask guy. I go where I’m needed. I don’t know anything about what’s going on in Holzog. I barely know what’s going on here, I just got here!”

“You... just got here?”

“Yeah, like a month or two ago. Hard to get lay of the land when EVERYTHING’S TRYIN TA KILL YOU, not to mention it’s hard to get a handle on things when idiot adventurers are runnin’ around STIRRIN’ THINGS UP!”

Gral soldiers on. “Well, what do you know of the curse corrupting this area? We were here gathering supplies for a ritual, but it seems like there is also trouble here, what with the villagers and the trolls."

Gral is very polite, so the druid grudgingly answers. “Look, here’s how it goes. This” – he taps the tree – “is Mother Tree. It’s important, for reasons. There’s always supposed to be a druid warden here. But something happened. She’s gone now. So I heard it through the grapevine, and I got called in.”

“Was it a literal grapevine?” 

“The old bag and the windy bastard have ways of getting in touch with us, if we’re needed. They told me I gotta go here and – well, so I came. I’m tryin’ to figure out what happened to old warden, figure out what I can do to keep the place safe. It’s a lotta work! But right now I’m trying to make lunch. Because lemme tell you, this owlbear is a lot calmer than most of his type, but he WILL eat me if he gets too hungry.”

“As far as what I know about it? Half the valley got taken. Everything west of the river got overgrown. Haven’t spent much time on the other side; I don’t wanna get spotted. You see what happens when somebody gets a look at me.” He gestures dismissively to all of us. “No good deed, and all that.”

“So half the valley got overgrown. My sources tell me the other half is honestly not doin’ much better, even though it looks better on the outside. Like I said, I’m still tryin’ to get my networks up and running, which is difficult when most of my sources are working for the enemy.”

“Yeah, the villagers have fungus brain,” Shoshana tells him. “Someone who came from this village seemed to be corrupted by fungus, and was working to encourage its spread. Also, they’re bringing in a Fuckton of Trolls to Bad Herzfeld. Which, if they get fungused, is...bad.”

Valeria, meanwhile, is attempting to feed the owlbear some granola. After a moment, she elects to just toss the bag in its direction. Handfeeding an owlbear is Not Wise.

“I’ll add that to my list of problems,” the old man grumbles. “Bunch of sporebrained trolls, sporebrained villagers, plants tryna kill me…all right. How many they got so far?”

“One troll was definitely fungused, but he’s dead. There’s about 8 at the troll moot now. Their food stores look spore-free so far, but we’re going to be looking into the village more.”

“Yeah, they wouldn’t want to be corruptin’ ‘em yet, it’d tip their hand too early. Trolls are usually solitary types. With how the sporebrains work, any new arrivals would be majorly creeped out. They’d want to get a critical mass before they try to get ‘em brainwashed.”

We agree that’s probably the plan. We explain the situation in Holzog, and ask what he knows about the druids’ actions there and whether the druids are the Prisoners’ jailers.

He shrugs. “Me and mine, we don’t talk to each other much. We each got our beats to cover. It’s not like they give us a manual – we’re not super fond of writing things down. Rumor is there’s old sources – real old – that have some knowledge, but otherwise you gotta get lucky and get a visit from the bosses themselves. But they’ve never been the most reliable.”

“The...bosses? Like Baba and Gramps?” Shoshana asks, referring to the old grandmother and grandfather gods of the woods.

“Yeah, they don’t exactly come when you ring a bell. Now I don’t know what old rattlechains, or the angry lady, or the quiet guy, or the sneaky bastard are like, but the chiefs aren’t communicative at the best of times. And since this fakakta Curse thing started they’ve been harder to get a hold of. We get our orders, they keep us busy, but there ain’t much in the way of answers. I’m told to guard this place, and do my thing. The ‘Prisoners,’ or whatever? That’s new to me.

“Look, stay away from the villagers, anyone especially friendly, anyone who talks about love, togetherness, caring, all that crap. Don’t go anyplace overgrown, anyplace with too many mushrooms. Spores will get in your brain.”

“I just do what I’m told. Or infer, really, I’m not told enough to do what I’m told.

If you wanna be helpful – something’s spreading this. The Curse spreads enough on its own, but something’s deliberately spreading it around. Go hunt for whatever’s doing that. Also, I can’t find previous warden – y’know, the person whose beat this is supposed to be.

He’s mostly losing interest in us, but can’t resist one last jab. “What do you need that mandrake for anyway? Half the things you think they can do, they can’t.”

Valeria jumps at the chance to talk about her Quest. “Over in Mornheim they’re dealing with the undead sort of curse. There’s a disease in the water affecting the whole population, and we found a ritual to purify the river! It’s not the sort of magic I usually work with, but I think I can make it function with the plants that I need. I’ve got almost all of them!”

“Hmm. Whatcha missin’?”

We check our notes. “Norbert’s Wort?”

Those Sturmhearst guys might have some, if you wanna try to get it off ‘em. Or there’s a bunch of it growin’ not far from the riverbank. Lemme see this ritual of yours, I wanna make sure you’re not wastin’ your time.”

He gives it the once-over with a surprisingly appreciative eye. “Oh, huh. Rosalind’s work.” He rolls up the scroll, slaps it back into Valeria’s claws, and turns to walk out into the wood. “Get outta here. I got things to do. If you stick around, Fingers will eat ya.”

Wait.

There’s a beat, and then Shoshana starts yelling. “WAIT, ROSALIND? BECAUSE WE FOUND THIS IN THE HOUSE OF A LADY NAMED ROSALIND. AND I DIDN’T THINK YOU GUYS WERE INTO HOUSES? WAIT COME BACK SHE’S A GHOST NOWWWWWW-”

He’s gone. Dammit.

We wave goodbye to Fingers.

As we cautiously make our way out of the grove, Gral is asked to make a Charisma check. A leaf, still stuck to a small bent twig, falls from the great tree and gently helicopters down. He reaches up a hand and catches it out of the air, easily, as if it was intended to find his hand. With an excellent perception check, he glances up and sees the silhouette of a motherly face in the branches. It’s hard to spot among the rustling green canopy, but it’s looking down at us from the branches - he can almost see a wooden torso in one branch – and then the shape pulls back into the branch, moving through it like sand.

Gral experiences an internal hell yes.

Gral has received: one twig with some leaves! It has vibes. This thing is definitely special, and a gift – not from the druid, but from the Mother Tree.

It clearly has Properties, but we do not know what they are.

So, what next? Trying to get the last plant for the spell has a nonzero chance of getting us lost overnight. We could stop by the Sturmhearst annex, or check in on the trolls....wait. Dang it. This morning we told that old lady we’d stay in town overnight. And we’ve already stood up one dinner invitation this arc.

As Clem capably leads us around dangers and toward Sturmhearst, Gral stares at his twig. He can see the leaves seem to move without wind, and he slowly realizes he’s able to predict which ways Clem is gonna lead us based on which way the leaf radar blows. It seems the gift can help find safe passage in the wood!

With a good survival check, we manage to skirt all dangers and the riled-up zone. Once again we smell acrid smoke from Sturmhearst camp and pass by the impassive looking giant owl guards with their flamethrowers. We see Rita the robot chicken hop by with something in her mouth, and follow her into camp. She ignores us and bops right up into the house that contains Prof. Ulmus’ lab.

Hey, we should go check on Flynn! A student directs us to where they’ve set up their clinic in an old barn, and soon we are confronted with a steely-eyed Fiona, arms crossed, glaring at us. “Hi, we, uh-”

She is silent, as usual, but Valeria rolls a nat 20 insight and can read her face like a book. She’s mad that we didn’t come back when we said we would – we made them worry, and also left them alone in this den of academic madness.

Valeria stumbles over a sincere apology until she is interrupted by a solid barbarian hug.

The paladin takes this as her opening to gossip about our day. “We got plants! And got real lost! We slept over a troll’s place!” Fiona makes a surprised gesture. “Yeah, there’s like eight. They have HOUSES. It’s surreal?!?!?! One of them thinks he’s a doctor!”

She’s interrupted when Dr. Ulmus sticks her hand through a curtain and hands off a vial of blood. Valeria now has blood. “Take this to my lab, please.”

Valeria blinks. “O...kay?” She dutifully leaves to take the blood to the lab.

Shoshana can’t keep her mouth shut. “Uh, ma’am? ….did you not notice that wasn’t a grad student?”

“Hm?”

“You gave this to the paladin.”

“…Good. She’ll follow orders. WAIT, YOU’RE BACK!” The doctor bursts through the curtain, beak-first.

“We come bearing fungus!” Clem gives her a vial of fungus. Clem is then ordered to take this to Prof Ulmus’s lab. She does. 

So now we have two tanks in a lab. They try to flag down a grad student and make them do it . No, too bad, they’re busy. Clem is like, what if I’m enormous and intimidating? But the grad student is not impressed. “Please. Do you know what kind of horrors I’m studying? You can’t terrify me.”

Valeria is like FFFF CAN YOU PLEASE JUST TELL ME WHERE THE BLOOD GOES. But the grad student leaves.

Oh hey, that rack has vials of red stuff. She puts the blood in the blood rack.

Clem shrugs, sets the fungus on a random table, and leaves.

Back at the clinic, a pale and haggard Flynn stumbles out and leans on Fiona. “My sister was very worried,” he tells us, making a flimsy effort at his usual grandiosity. “I, of course, had total confidence in you!”

Fiona, deadpan, signs: [He cried.]

Professor Ulmus finally emerges in full. “Well, Mr. Fairgold, I’d say you’re well on your way to recovery! Practice those breathing exercises I showed you and take it easy for next few days.”

Valeria and Clem hustle back, spouting apologizes for missing dinner, because Valeria is polite and Clem is genuinely upset at missing the opportunity to pick the doctor’s brain about medicine.

“Hmm, yes, you’re back! Well, you’re all alive…” Professor Ulmus starts inspecting us, her beaked mask tilting this way and that. “…oh dear.” She prods Clem a bit. “Yes, hmm.” She briskly hands Clem some sort of compressed herb poultice. “You’ll want to eat this.” Clem immediately makes a med check. It’s some kind of medicine, I guess. Clem swallows it. It tastes super gross.

“So!” she chirps. “I look forward to hearing what you’ve learned. How was your expedition, did you find what you were looking for?”

“Most of it,” Valeria admits. “We’re still looking for Norbert’s Wort.”

“I have a bit, but it’s spoken for, I’m afraid. Anyhow, I believe a dinner was planned! It’s a good thing you didn’t show up last night, I forgot all about it. I had to do quite a lot of work on Mr. Fairgold. The fungal infestation in his lungs should be cleared up, although the treatment did leave some aftereffects. Nausea, some trouble breathing for a few days. Nothing major.”

Valeria just sort of awkwardly lifts her hand, offering Lay Ons. He waves her off, bluffing his way past her insight. Sure, he’s fiiiiiiiine.

“He was fortunate. Not the worst I’ve seen – something worse would have required a substantially more radical treatment. More invasive, too. Were any of you exposed?”

“Uhh, not to that, but to other things?” We tell her about the Snorlax bear over a plate of sandwiches.

“Yes, I’ve seen similar phenomena – a fungal colony hijacking a living creature. Unfortunately that’s where my expertise ends – I might have to discuss with my, ugh, colleague in the aberrant biology department.”

Valeria tells her about the dream mushroom feast. “So you tripped on mushrooms and hallucinated and fought some mushroom men. We’ve all been there.” The professor waves it off with disinterest. “Yes, spooky curse magic messing with your mind, I’m sure it was harrowing. And/or enlightening. But I don’t have time for spooky magics; I’m a woman of SCIENCE! Speaking of, Clementine, where did you put that fungus?”

“On a table with similar looking specimens?” 

“Pardon me a moment.” She immediately stands and runs. We see a huge guard stomp toward the lab. Then flamethrower noises. There’s a bit of screaming. 

She emerges slightly scorched, fixing her coat. “That…was the wrong table. It’s cross contaminated! Well, I suppose that’s the cost of science. Sometimes, in order to make great discoveries, you must burn a table of samples before they kill you.”

“I’m sorry, I asked a grad student and he said put it anywhere, really!” Clem bluffs.

“Which one?” 

“....um, a short guy wearing a bird mask?

“Ah, Jean-Pierre, I know him. We will have words later. Never trust an entomologist, they’ve all got a head full of beetles or something. So! What’s next for you? I can’t say we have a ton of room here, but I’m sure we can try to find somewhere for you to stay...”

Valeria idly taps the clear bead on her earring chain. “Well, we DID promise to stay at the inn in town tonight...”

Ulmus hums discontentedly. “I trust the villagers precisely as far as my guards can throw them.”

Shoshana butts in. “Right? Okay, because the last time we stayed in a fungus person’s house I was RIGHT and it SUCKED.”

We go back and forth, deciding we’ll keep our promise but stay in the annex for dinner. A feast in Mushroom Town sounds...ominous.

Clem, determined, asks the professor if she can have a flamethrower. Sadly, it doesn’t matter how much Clem pleads her strength and skill, those had to be SPECIALLY REQUISITIONED from the ENGINEERING DEPARTMENT. She had to call in favors! Now if you’ll excuse her, she has work to do.

We have an early dinner, and then head to other side of river for the first time. The difference could not be more marked. If this wasn’t German old-growth forest, the other side would be a jungle (a fungus jungle? A fungle.); these are lush, rolling, well-tamed agricultural fields dotted with quaint farmhouses; rural but civilized. 

The “town” is a bare handful of buildings clustered around a small mill. A general store, the mill, the inn, a sheriff’s office, and that’s really it. Blacksmith. Handful of tradespeople. Pretty standard – these are people who live to support the surrounding farmers.

Not far from there we can see the Farmers’ Temple we heard about, a plain round wooden structure with large carved symbols for Rack, Torme, and Lethe. By Valeria’s standards, it’s the absolute bare minimum of what counts as a temple. “They’re trying, I appreciate that.”

As we travel into town, Valeria can see that the people on this side of river seem to fall firmly into 1 of 2 camps: some are incredibly healthy, almost overly large and well-fed, and very happy. The other half seems sickly. Not as bad as Mornheim, but we can easily sort people into Kinda Sickly or Big Healthy. There’s a lot of coughing. Perhaps the Medusoid Mycelium?!

It’s nearly sunset; we head down to the inn. There’s a couple of people sitting around the inn, farmers getting a drink after making deliveries to the mill. A friendly innkeeper named Aaron greets us. “Ah, you must be the people I’ve heard about!”

“Yes, Zelig told you about us?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some rooms prepped for ya. What brings you to town? We don’t get many of your type around – knights, or whatever you are.”

“Oh, we heard there’d been another Knight of the Rose around,” Shoshana probes.

“That’s what Zelig says, haven’t seen him.”

“Well, uh, thank you for your hospitality?”

We head upstairs, breaking into our usual pairs of roommates - Clem with Gral, Valeria with Shoshana, Aethis in the stables weirding out the horses.

Clem, the wary soldier, checks around to ensure the room is secure. She finds something! A note has been tucked into the mattress. “YOU ARE IN DANGER. COME DOWNSTAIRS AFTER THE SERVICES START AT THE TEMPLE.”

Huh.

She tells the rest of us. Everyone is like, “...yeah, we already knew that?” But it’s excellent news that not every villager is in on it.

There’s a knock on Clem’s door. A nervous young woman is standing there, holding a tray full of pastries. “Hey, uh. My dad wanted me to give you these. They’re leftover, they’d just go stale anyway.” 

“Oh, uh, thank you! Much obliged. Um, will that be all?”

“Try ‘em, at least take a look at them. They’re pretty good,” the girl tells her insistently, and scurries off.

Clem and Gral immediately inspect the pastries suspiciously. Pulling one apart - sure enough, there’s a note stuffed in a pastry! It says “CHECK UNDER THE BED.”

Under the bed, where Clem found the first note.

Gral pops down to the tavern area to get a few more deets from Aaron the innkeeper. Turns out temple services start after sundown. “You’ll know it, you’ll see people headin’ towards it. Why, you thinkin of attending?”

“We have a paladin with us, she’s always interested in the local religious customs.”

“It’s nothing you’d be interested in. More of a town hall meeting than anything.”

“I understand. Thank you for the pastries, they were absolutely delicious!”

“Oh, thanks kindly! Sleep well.”

Sure enough, as the sun sets we see lights in the dark as people start streaming in from across the valley to the Farmers’ Temple.

Once it looks like the last stragglers have made it into the service, Clem knocks on wall separating our rooms, as a signal, and we head downstairs. We try to be quiet about it. Aaron and his daughter are there, cloaked and ready for travel. His daughter has a hooded lantern in her hand.

“I don’t know what you people came here for, but you’re not gonna find it here,” whispers the innkeeper urgently. “You have to leave.”

“What kind of danger?”

“I keep my ears open. Zelig came back this morning, told some people about some outsiders, guests – told us to have rooms ready for them, and then stay out of their way when they came for you tonight. I don’t know how long we have – they always go to temple first, but the clock’s running. I don’t know you much, but you seem-“

“This has happened before?” Valeria breaks in, concerned.

“Not in so many words, but, yeah. People have gone missing. Last time we couldn’t do anything about it. We weren’t warned; they just showed up in the night. This time they were worried – there’s more of you, and better armed. Last time was just traveling merchants.”

Gral nods. "We came here looking to find what 'they' were planning at the troll moot. We don't just want to run away, but if you're in danger for housing us, that can wait. What's next?"

“The troll moot? Yeah that’s fishy, but I don’t know how to warn ‘em away. You folks seem connected, can you get word out about this place? But be discreet. I’ve heard stories about the Penitents, and I don’t want no part of that either. There’s still good people here. A lot of people in that temple there, though – I would have sworn they were good people too, until this all started. I’m not sure what it’s all about. We haven’t been going to services, and so far they haven’t forced us to. But they had folks posted in the inn, makin’ sure you showed up tonight. 

“You gotta get moving. Rebecca can get you to someplace safe. Slip out now, and finish leaving the valley tomorrow night.”

Clem insights ‘em, and then seem genuinely honest and concerned for us.

“Whatever this is, something about you guys has them spooked, so I wanna make sure you survive. There’s strange things afoot in Herzfeld these days.”

“Would they let you leave?” Valeria asks.

“I don’t wanna know what would happen if we tried. So far they’ve been content to let us keep running the inn, serving ‘em drinks.”

“How have you evaded their influence?” Clem asks suspiciously. “What makes you the exception?”

“Not everybody’s one of ‘em. The woman, Zelig, she came out of the woods a couple months ago after the other side of river fell. She started talkin’ to people, sayin’ she knew way to protect us. People were scared, ‘specially since the old cleric went over to the other side of the river and never came back. A bunch of people went down to the temple to hear her say her piece. 

“Those that went – not all of them came back. Afterwards, she started holding services regularly. Meetings, gatherings, whatever. Those that go, their crops flourish, they get strong and healthy. Those that don’t start to get sick. Their crops die. And once people start getting sick, everyone tells ‘em to go to temple and pray about it.”

I don’t know why Rebecca and I have managed to avoid the brunt of it so far.”

Rebecca pipes up. “I’ve snuck into the temple during day, it’s open to everyone. It seems fine mostly, bit run down – everything seems to be in place. But whatever’s going on there, it’s weird. The point is, I can take you to a safe place.”

Her dad nods. “I dunno where it is. Safer that way.”

Rebecca continues, her face too grim for her young age. “I’ve been smuggling people out of the valley. Mostly, people who oppose Zelig just vanish. Dad keeps the inn running and keeps his ears open. Anyone we suspect might be in danger, we get them out.”

Valeria considers. “We’re not going until we figure out what’s going on, but staying safe for tonight is not a bad idea.”

“I don’t know how long the service will go. It can be ten minutes, it can be an hour. We have to get moving, now.”

We hurriedly discuss: we want to know what happens at the mysterious services, but Valeria and Clem aren’t exactly built for stealth. Rebecca says that during the service itself, the town’s pretty deserted - everyone either goes in or stays well away.

We decide to split the party: Rebecca will take Team Clank to meet her friends at the safe house; Gral and Shoshana will sneak up to the temple.

 “I can’t tell you where safe house is; if you get captured, you’ll spill. Meet me at the top of hill there. I’ll be hiding in the bushes right by the old fence.”

The shadowy huntress and the subtle bard manage to get close without giving themselves away. Gral gets right up next to a window, and listens in, staying out of the window’s line of sight.

Zelig’s voice booms out, rich and strong: “Brothers, Sisters, we come to our next business. You have heard of the outsiders. They come, they question us. They question our ways, our motives. They endanger our sacred project with our brethren amongst the trolls. Do not fear, for we have a solution: I sense in them a great capacity for love and understanding. Tonight we shall find them, and give them a chance to join in our love. Should they not, should they hold hatred in their hearts, then those hearts may be hollowed and made ready for our love. Come brothers, come sisters, come family.”

Gral minor illusions the hue of the night sky onto his face, hoping it’s enough cover to peek in the window unnoticed.

“It is time. First, let us renew our bonds,” the old woman intones. Zelig stands in the center of the circular room. All the people around her are tall, strong, and glowing with health, crowded together, holding hands. Zelig taps a floorboard, and Hans and Frans solemnly move to pry up the board. 

Underneath is a lush green carpet of plant life. Fungus and vines creep out of the floorboard, growing at an impossible rate. Everyone stands as a wave of vegetable and fungal matter extends through temple, climbing up the worshippers’ legs and enveloping their bodies entirely. As Hans and Frans pull back the boards, a frame rises up; vines work their way into frame, forming a picture. Blooming flowers and different shades of leaves and lichen form the image of a female figure, motherly looking, bound in roots. Yet another tapestry?

The worshippers speak in eerie unison. “Though bound, she will be free. She is the growth. She is our love. She is protection. She will grow free of her bonds. We will grow as she does.” The chanting does not falter as the wave of plant matter entirely consumes the chamber. Gral ducks back under the window as the air chamber starts to fill with dense, cloudy spores.

He’s been relaying everything he sees to Shoshana with Message, and they both agree: We’ve seen what we can see, it’s time to get the hell out of here.

Meanwhile, Rebecca leads Valeria and Clem out of the town proper to a set of  rolling hills near an abandoned granary. There’s a cleverly hidden trapdoor set almost invisibly into the sod, leading down into a small network of caves.

“They used to use these caves to make cheese! Hmm...it should be this one tonight.” She bypasses several doors set into the earthy tunnels, stopping at one seemingly at random and knocking softly.

A voice on the other side whispers, “Who are you?”

 “One who seeks freedom,” Rebecca whispers back.

“And who are we?”

“The last Free Thieves!”

...What.

The door opens a crack, and Rebecca hurriedly herds the tanks through. “The guy in charge is the little guy. His name’s Henri Decannes. Him or one of his people will help you get out. I have to get your friends.” She runs back into night, vanishing into the darkness.

Valeria groans. She understands that stabbing Henri is not an appropriate action at this time, but dang would she enjoy it. And now she’s gonna have a DEBT to him? Maaaaaaaan.

As Gral begins to sneak back over to Shoshana, behind them, they hear the congregants start to move.

[ryn-away]

Sweep and take

(Original story)

Flowers softly swayed in the breeze barely halted by the chaos flying above their delicate heads. Beside me Keiji’s red hair ghosted around his face, teal eyes hard and focussed as they looked up at the silver bellied cruiser sliding slowly through the air above us. Earth had been taken already and now they were deploying troops to mercilessly slaughter any humans that were not fit for to be here by their standards. Weak,injured,old,diseased,handicapped all were going to be killed. If you were older than the age of thirty then you were eliminated. Deemed unneeded only the spies or alien deserters were left without a scratch. Keiji’s brother and sister would escape the massacre only through the unnatural features given to them by their father's heritage. Unnaturally bright hair and eyes. But he himself only gained a fraction of his father’s genetics. His bright red hair the only true indicator of his race as he inherited his mother’s human genetics. His eyes though uncommon were a bright shade of teal and glowed with annoyance in contrast to his usually cheeky expression which was now screwed up to show a hard set mouth and furrowed brows. His small eight year old hands were white and shaking, blood dripped from his left fist from gripping the crystal that we found too tight. He like many others would be trained to be soldiers for the Kordan army. I on the other hand was going to be killed. The dark black phoenix birthmark splayed across my back proved it. The armies had started to attack months before I was born and as they had dropped a bomb genetically enhanced to change the D.N.A makeup of the unborn children. It had a radius of 5,000 miles and but barely caused any damage opposite of what they hoped. It merely changed the children into genetic wonders, mutants. The mutations varied from animal body parts to controlling weather or elements. All those of human descent where required to log their new unique ability caused by the chemical. You were then issued with a card to show if asked. On them was your name,eye colour, power and hair colour. You were also given a rank based on your strength. Due to having an attack power and a healing my rank was C. Low level C but that was long time ago.

Wind rushed by my face, sand sprayed up around me. The steady drumming sound of the helicopter above me pushed my adrenalin up higher. The occasional cuss word in my head urged my legs faster. There! Carved out of the cliff in front of me a small barely man sized hole.

Now or never….. I slammed into the water. Slicing through the dark liquid and delving deeper into the all encompassing darkness. Lungs burning I kick into a narrow opening and speed upwards. Breaking the sheet like surface chest heaving the lit crystals dazzling my eyes. Taking deep breath of tunnel air I paddle towards the cave ledge. Hauling myself out of the water I sigh. Everything is fine. I am safe. I relax standing up I stretch the kinks from today's mission from my back.

“BOO!” Someone touches my back.

I scream and grab the offenders shirt losing my balance on the ledge and plunging into the dark water dragging the unsuspecting Milo with me. Spluttering in shock I surfaced only to be faced with a chortling ravenette. Shock gradually turned to annoyance and annoyance to retaliation. The clear air was sliced with a ringing sound of a palm connecting with a cheek. The laughing subsided. The water rose. All i could think was ‘Crap’. In front of me was a ten meter high wall of water. My feet resting on solid ground ‘not good not good NOT GOOD!!’ panic begins to set in

‘think think think!’ “Milo I’m too tired to do this right now” ‘Amara what are you thinking??’

“What are you a sloth?” Milo’s Incredulous but angry voice echoed down

“I would make a sexy sloth” Oh boy i will never live this down….

The deafening silence continued until…..

“Hahahahahahahahaha. What are you?? I could mistake you for a clown right now! Wait no It was a horrible movie”

Sighing in relief as i felt myself rising being lifted higher as Milo slowly released his pent up water. A hand was offered at eye level and i happily accepted. Yelping lightly as the water pushed up making it easier to climb out. The adrenalin finally ran out causing my eyes to droop and my steps to become wobbly. A sigh whispered from behind me and arms hooked under my knees and back. Smiling softly I melt into the black.

‘Ara………..Amara….. “ The familiar voice broke through my unconscious daze. Whining as I snuggle into my blankets forming a burrito.

“Please don't hate me for this Ara” Layla sighed.

Cold air rushed past me followed by a thump. Moving aside the blankets I glared at my friend and sister at arms.

“Three”...

“Hey! Hey! Think this over!”

“Two….”

“I’m sorry!!” ?

“One, You better run”

“Oh shit! IT WASN'T MY CHOICE”

Pushing my sluggish body up I sprinted after the younger captain.

“Heya Captain the commander wants to you and Captain Reiss.”

“What about?”

“You’ll have to change and ask him.” With that the blond lieutenant left, leaving me standing in my training gear. Turning around I trudged back to my room brushing past Milo. His usually bright chocolate eyes clouded over with concern. Shrugging it off I continued on my way. Pulling on my fireproof bodysuit and strapping the belt to my waist shrugging on my jacket and slipping on my boots i sighed. Almost ready to go I grabbed the metal quarterstaff from my wall.

“You ready yet?” Milo’s voice whispered over to me.

“Yeah. you ok?” I enquired.

“Commander will explain Akanae” His gruff voice replies. He was on edge. His tone was unfamiliar causing me to flinch away from him. His hand reached forward and ruffled my hair.

“Sorry” The slight sorrow flickered through his eyes. Smiling up at him we broke into a jog to get to the conference and tactical room meeting up withthe other four captains, two lieutenants and our only commander.

The news was grim we are the last colony of mutants left. The last to be found. Last to be destroyed. It was decided. A certain death mission to keep our small paradise safe Layla Reiss and Issac Bridger were forbidden from going. This left Milo Sasaki, Hans Jaeger, someone from the other side and me. Now deep in the heart of the Kordan base we have three members.

Hans was gone. Claimed by a shot to the back. Milo’s ragged breath was ragged through the headpiece. The fourth member was silent. Shaking in annoyance i stood up pulling off my bulletproof vest leaving my body bare to attack with only meager coverage of my bodysuit and leather jacket. Raising my hand to my earpiece and hissing through the mic “Right Red” I growled “we have blindly trusted you and now we have a man down. Either prove you want to help us or shoot me.” Both Milo and Red were silent. I was left with the radio static. Pulling my jacket closer to my chest and tucking the gun in my belt i grip onto the metal pipe and climb heating my hands to get better grip. Ice suddenly crept up my leg and dragged me down.

Reaching the bottom I glared at my captor. The low hood covered his eyes and hair. Lightly gripping my hand the stranger slipped something into my hand. Taking back my hand back I looked down seeing an earpiece and a crystal on a thread. My eyes widened and my breath quickened. Sweeping the hood back red hair glimmered teal orbs shaded by his long fringe. A scar rippled from his jawline up to his cheek. His face familiar but misty as if the war had wiped all happiness away.

“Keiji?” I felt shaky everything was falling into place. A loyal soldier suddenly helping a small resistance force? Unthinkable. An old friend? Expected. I felt like a single ray of sun on a rainy day. A white cloud among a storm. One friend lost one reunited. Wind rushed past me as my face connected with a muscled chest. Tears pricked my eyes as nostalgia played with my emotions. His boyish smell was replaced with the smell of metal and sweat. Leaning into the safe embrace I allow my eyes to close to enjoy this brief encounter. The hand on my lower back slowly removed itself and ruffled my hair before pulling away.

“Come on, We have an assassination to execute”

-Yami_akanae

2016

[ramajmedia]

Hogwarts Houses Of 10 Disney Princesses From The '90s

1989’s The Little Mermaid ushered in a new era of Disney animation. Known as Disney’s Renaissance, it included animated movies like The Lion King, Tarzan, and Mulan. The new era featured a new kind of Disney heroine - one who took matters into her own hands.

Though an official Disney Princess lineup exists to sell themed merchandise, many of the 90s princesses don’t appear. That’s because some of them are animals, most don’t wear princess ball gowns, and some only have the princess title as an honorary measure. If the group ended up at Hogwarts though, one thing’s for sure: there would be a whole lot of Gryffindors among them.

RELATED: Hogwarts Houses Of Chris Evans Characters

10 Pocahontas (Pocahontas): Gryffindor

The daughter of a chief instead of a king, Pocahontas is one character in Disney’s official lineup who is an honorary princess. She might not wear a crown, but she’s certainly the hero of her movie.

Though the movie is inspired by real events, it strays far from historic accounts. In both life and fiction, however, Pocahontas is a Gryffindor. She’s willing to risk her life to help strangers, putting herself between her people and possible invaders to find out if the situation is really threatening. She even, eventually, makes the decision to leave her family and explore a whole new world in the sequel.

9 Jane (Tarzan): Ravenclaw

An ethnologist in Tarzan, Jane’s job means she spends all of her time studying and analyzing. Ethnology is a specific branch of anthropology that doesn’t just study a particular culture, but compares it to others to find similarities among humanity. In Tarzan Jane and her father, however, don’t study humans exclusively, but set out to study gorillas as well.

With Jane’s ability to find ways to communicate with animals and understand the social order of the gorillas fairly quickly, it’s clear she’s good at her job. Her adaptability means she isn’t just a Ravenclaw with her nose stuck in a book either; she’s able to put what she learns into action.

Some fans might wonder why Jane makes a list of princesses at all. Until 2004, she was part of the official Disney princess lineup as honorary royalty.

8 Nala (The Lion King): Gryffindor

Nala is never officially a princess by Disney standards. Disney doesn’t include animals in their lineup. Since she becomes the queen to Simba’s king, however, she makes this list as a Gryffindor.

RELATED: Disney Heroes And Princes Sorted Into Hogwarts Houses

Nala is never put off by the fact that she spends her cub days playing with the future king of the pride. In fact, she’s pretty proud of the fact that she’s tougher than him. If Simba’s brave and a showoff, so is Nala. Nala leaves her home - and everyone she knows - behind to find a solution to the pride’s problems after Scar takes over. When she finds Simba, she isn’t afraid to inform him that staying gone is cowardly behavior. She also isn’t afraid to return home and face the consequences of her disappearance.

7 Atta (A Bug’s Life): Gryffindor

Like Toy Story, A Bug’s Life was an early Disney venture with Pixar. The Pixar characters don’t typically get included in Disney’s princess lineup. Of course, Princess Atta is also an ant, so she wouldn’t likely get an invite anyway. Despite being an ant instead of a human, Atta ranks here, and she’s definitely a Gryffindor.

Atta spends a lot of the movie focused on how the colony views her. With her mother as queen, she has a lot to live up to. She wants to make sure she can be as good of a queen, if not better, as her mother. With all that pressure she places on herself, she spends a lot of time afraid. Despite her fear, she makes the tough calls and ends up standing up to the grasshoppers trying to take over. 

6 Dot (A Bug’s Life): Hufflepuff

Atta’s little sister, on the other hand, is definitely a Hufflepuff. It’s possible she could sort into a different Hogwarts house if the audience saw more of her journey, but with what we do know of her, it’s the best fit.

Dot is one of the youngest characters in A Bug’s Life, so she spends her time watching Flik put his plans into action and being his own personal cheerleader. She believes in him, even if her big sister exiles him. She also continually works on learning how to fly because she hates not being able to. Hardworking and a loyal friend? Textbook Hufflepuff.

5 Kiara (The Lion King II: Simba’s Pride): Gryffindor

Like her mother before her, Kiara couldn’t feature in the official princess lineup. Unlike her mother before her, however, Kiara is a born royal in The Lion King sequel. She is, as the cub of the ruling couple, technically a princess, even if she’s a lion.

Kiara has a lot in common with her parents. She doesn’t want to be confined to the area closest to the pride. Instead, she wants to explore, and she takes advantage of the few times she’s allowed to do so. It gets her into a little trouble, but she finds a way out of it, willing to face danger head-on. Kiara is also willing to give the exiled lions the benefit of the doubt, believing they deserve a fair chance at joining the family. This Gryffindor has a good heart.

4 Megara (Hercules): Slytherin

With so many Gryffindors amongst the Disney heroines, it’s about time there’s a Slytherin.Though she never gets a princess crown, Megara did date a prince before meeting Hercules. She does fall for the son of a Greek god as well, so she’s an honorary princess in our book.

RELATED: Disney: The Most Magical Female Characters, Ranked

Meg makes a deal with Hades before the events of the movie play out. That deal makes her secretly work for Hades, helping him get closer to ruling the world. Meg originally made the deal to bring someone she cared for back to life, but her real ambition has nothing to do with Hades. Instead, she wants her own freedom, to be left alone. She’ll do whatever it takes to end up with a peaceful life of her own. 

3 Esmeralda (The Hunchback Of Notre Dame): Gryffindor

Like several of the female characters on this list, Esmeralda appeared as part of the official Disney princess merchandise before she was excluded. She even appeared as a character in Disney theme parks for a short time. Again, like so many Disney women of the 90s, Esmeralda is a Gryffindor.

A Romani woman who watched her people be ridiculed and targeted, Esmeralda became a warrior for justice. Throughout The Hunchback Of Notre Dame, Esmeralda speaks out against injustice, showing kindness to those who are bullied. She uses any means available to her to fight back, trying to pull herself, and her people, up from the social position they’ve been forced into.

2 Mulan (Mulan): Hufflepuff

Some will argue that Mulan is the bravest of the Disney princess lineup and belongs in Gryffindor. While she is brave, that’s not where her motivation lies. Instead, loyalty motivates Mulan’s every move.

Mulan becomes a soldier in the Chinese army because of loyalty and duty to her family. She takes her father’s place, impersonating a man, so he doesn’t have to go to war in his old age. She continues even after she’s found out due to a need to do the right thing for her country. Mulan is all about loyalty, just like a Hufflepuff.

1 Anastasia (Anastasia): Gryffindor

Anastasia was a 90s animated princess, but when her movie released, it didn’t belong to Disney. It belonged to FOX. With Disney acquiring FOX, she now belongs to Disney, though she’ll likely never be coronated amongst the official Disney princess lineup.

A member of the royal family of Russia, Anastasia disappeared the night her entire family died, and rumors persisted that she was still alive. In the animated version of the story, she suffers from amnesia, and only recovers her memory when she makes the decision to train to be royalty under a pair of con men. Anya isn’t sure if she is really Anastasia until her memory slowly begins to return, but she takes the leap of faith without knowing where she’ll end up. She’s a real Gryffindor.

NEXT: Disney Princesses Sorted Into Their Hogwarts Houses

source https://screenrant.com/classic-disney-princesses-hogwarts-houses/

[kanaevonroswag]

Thoughts on Episode 10

- I like how Tsukai’s eyes are the same color scheme as the trans flag.

- Kissing without consent ain’t cool, kids. Wish they didn’t make her do that. Pandering to str8 male audience with the nudity, too. Reminded me a little bit of Fushigi Yuugi’s Soi and Nakago, but unlike with this anime that nudity had a purpose (chi-transfer).

- Hanamori/Shindou (shinamori? idk if this is really the ship name but i digress) had WAY better development than this hetero romance they call Shindou/Tsukai. I can’t believe they tried to shoehorn romance into this. It didn’t need any romance.

- Don’t shit on Tsukai, shit on the writer(s) responsible for fleshing her out the way she was in the anime if you hate her so much. All this disdain for her is disgustingly misdirected.

Her “date” with Shindou, where she had to ask Natsume for permission to borrow Shindou first before it happened? It’s not a date. Two people talking and going around town together is suddenly a date and not a negotiation in which Tsukai’s trying to make him understand where she’s coming from when she tries to enlist his help? Wow, meet me in the fucking pit. The purpose of going to her house was to get Shindou this dragon plate:

Going around town and showing him her life are a way for her to showcase the beauty of what humanity has been capable of achieving, and I’m sure you’d agree that she’d drive this point home better while outside, experiencing the now with Shindou, than just indoors merely talking to him about how beautiful it is for humanity to have progressed on its own. Plus, animators have space to flex their muscles with beautiful backgrounds and movement if she took the discussion outside and to different settings.

And I don’t get the hubbub about this “gentle” approach of hers as being offensive to a feminist. She’s a female-presenting being who made her choice about how to approach the subject of making Shindou understand where she’s coming from; you shouldn’t criticize a woman for choosing what’s gentle or “stereotypically feminine” because that’s not a very feminist thing to do.

She’s omitted that part about being an anisotropic being, sure, but don’t you think it’s less her being a liar than the writers thinking it’s a good “plot twist!1!!” to reveal it that late into the series?

And while I’m on this topic, I’ve told someone this before:

Tsukai’s also been against what zaShunina wants to bring to humanity from the get-go. She would be a legitimate candidate or authority–the other entity with a separate set of standards Mifune-sensei was talking about–to really decide what’s best for humanity given how long she’s been around. She knows both the anisotropic beings’ and humanity’s contexts and backgrounds.  

Given this, there really is room for negotiation if both anisotropic beings just put their weapons away. Shindou’s negotiating style should come through in the next episode, and I don’t wanna trust in the snippets of conversation in the Ep10 preview because fighting zaShunina might be the direction the show writer(s) want the audience to think it’s heading.

So yeah. Tsukai’s character has a purpose for being an anisotropic being that knew humanity vs zaShunina’s purpose as the anisotropic being that didn’t. She’s the voice representing that portion of humanity that believes in non-interference from the anisotropic, that portion that doesn’t want to blindly follow the promises of an alien. She acknowledges the benefits of the anisotropic technology but thinks there are more important things than those benefits.

The anime looks to be shifting from a negotiation between humans and zaShunina to a negotiation between Tsukai and zaShunina. But the latter shouldn’t be the case. Humanity should still have a say in what happens to it, and not have two aliens bicker over its fate as if it couldn’t decide for itself. All three parties (humanity, Tsukai and zaShunina) should be smoothing over the terms together to reach a satisfying conclusion as in Ep0. Yet I absolutely disagreed with the (rushed) decision to broadcast the Sansa in a past episode without further testing, or speculating on the physical, mental and societal ramifications of increased productivity and lack of sleep. Labor union members and capitalists alike would have a field day with the redefinition of a humane amount of rest permitted a worker and other such consequences of the anisotropic technology.

Gotta say, I don’t appreciate having Tsukai or those who share her views on how humanity shouldn’t have been given any of the alien tech be called a Luddite or anti-progress. Pretty sure she likes seeing humanity advance and progress,

just not with the aid of that specific type of technology. Besides, it’s contradictory for zaShunina to want to mine humanity for information when the introduction of his 4 “gifts” erases that human journey to achieving similar effects, a journey that would have yielded more information than a reliance on an alien cheat code. That’s zaShunina putting the cart before the horse.

- I’ve been suspicious of zaShunina from the get-go and I’ve always linked his actions to that of a slavemaster, a colonizer come to preach what’s best for the colony without understanding the colonized’s ways and reap their land of resources (information) for the benefit of anisotropic beings like himself. Even colonizers introduced their technology to the colonized in an attempt to bring them closer to “their level” or standard of living. There is that power relation of colonizers being superior in every way to the colonized, that White Man’s Burden of having to impart knowledge as a courtesy (but that’s a front; the name of the colonizing game is exploitation). Those who thought of zaShunina as benevolent are disappointed now that he’s, as they say, “made out to be a villain”.

Well, that’s just the truth, isn’t it? He isn’t interested in humanity’s advancement for the sake of humanity. He’s interested in advancing it for the sake of anisotropic beings like himself. He’s not a good guy, never has been. He only has his own (or his race’s) interests in mind.

That’s why his race made cocoons in the first place: to harvest information. The universe’s development was monitored like they were scientists observing lab rats. zaShunina prods humanity into reaching “the right answer” when he already has the answer in mind (as he answered Shindou’s question in Ep10) like a scientist with a hypothesis to prove who is just expecting, predicting, that humanity will behave like he hopes it to during testing. Not a shred of benevolence. Just because anisotropic beings don’t seem to have a concept of exploitation doesn’t mean humanity can’t accuse them of exhibiting exploitative behavior. The phenomenon exists and is observed; humanity has a name for it even if anisotropic beings don’t.

And even if zaShunina did have good intentions, good intentions don’t automatically translate to good outcomes, especially if he knows nothing about the people he’s trying to be “good” to. Take someone who suggests you do yoga when you get anxious, for example. The advice is likely incompatible, they didn’t try to understand what it’s like to have anxiety or why that advice won’t work for you, but they meant well and want you to feel better, if not feel better about themselves for being “helpful”. Good intentions can be harmful when someone takes that wrong approach of failing to understand the circumstances or conditions of the target of their help.

- On Tsukai, the way I would critique her is how I would critique the writing of this show and the response to how she’s written:

1. Shindou is the negotiator in focus, not her. She, despite being a negotiator herself with credentials such as doing negotiations in the UN, probably didn’t try to negotiate directly with zaShunina herself because that role was meant to be for our male protagonist Shindou, who’d been in the spotlight doing a similar thing in Ep0. It’s not because she didn’t think about doing it, she’s just WRITTEN that way. Remember that Shindou is set up to be the best negotiator in Japan; the narrative would toss him and not Tsukai the metaphorical ball. He gets the action, not her.

2. Even with her role as the administrator, she’s reduced to an accessory to Shindou but that’s also perpetrated by the watcher’s biases. Being hyper-focused on critiquing her so-called “tsundere” quality and not her role as a fellow anisotropic being to zaShunina, as a negotiator, and as the cocoon’s administrator who basically designed the cocoon herself really paints a vivid picture about people who think a certain way about her. Calling her a useless character has no basis.

And let me turn that around to include criticizing those who idolize zaShunina and accept him 100% because of his looks, and lowkey what he represents on a surface level (which is advancement). Those who are uppity and arrogant about being so pro-advancement, so pro-zaShunina that, to someone like me who’s never put the alien on a pedestal, they look so stubborn and even naive about believing in this stranger’s “kindness”. To the point that when faced with evidence that he’s not benevolent, they freak out or rage about the direction his characterization is heading.

On the show’s writer(s) side, sidelining Tsukai into being the love interest despite her big roles when the spotlight would obviously be on Shindou given the story is a dick move. It’s not very progressive. We’ve seen male protagonists be allowed to hog the spotlight time and time again. Yawn. Next.

Someone’s brought this up before but I totally think they’re right when they say that the fandom would have treated her differently if she were a bishounen, as they gripe about how zaShunina should have been female instead so he would end up with Shindou. It’s unsettling. Quite the double standard we have here.

[theinquisitivej]

‘Mass Effect: Andromeda’ - A Game Review

I don’t often do game reviews. The medium is dear to my heart, and I posted the odd review for smaller games that fascinated me back in the early days of this blog. But film is what I’m drawn to, even leading me to decide to spend my life studying it, so my writing has reflected that. Despite this, games are still an important part of my life, so I’m going to write game reviews every now and then if I’ve finished a game and feel a need to talk about it.

          The Mass Effect trilogy is one of my favourite game series, and features my favourite sci-fi setting in any medium. The world building and character development is unparalleled, and experiencing them through the eyes of Commander Shepard resulted in fantastic interactive storytelling. Shepard would always be a distinguished Commander in the human military, but their gender, appearance, history, decisions, and actions were all in the player’s hands. Some viewed this as potential for limitless storytelling, where your decisions had a direct, impact on the world your character inhabited, leading to an experience where you, the player, could carve out your own narrative. This was true to an extent, but I prefer to think of it as elastic storytelling; you can stretch the story in multiple directions, but there will always be a limit. How you would resolve a situation was ultimately your choice, but there were only ever a finite number of pre-selected options in each scenario for the player to choose from. The game’s developers used their finite resources to craft an experience which we knew could only unfold in a certain number of ways, but still managed to feel limitless. Our playthroughs were memorable and beloved because players will forever feel like they shared a journey with THEIR Shepard.

          So a trilogy closes, half a decade passes, and we return to begin a new journey. This time, we play as Ryder, a human who has taken part in the Andromeda Initiative, a mammoth undertaking by the various races of the Milky Way to explore the far-off galaxy of Andromeda, and eventually establish a home there. 600 years have passed as the Arks, vast colony ships housing the different species, have finally completed their long journey. Inevitably, problems have arisen. A strange and devastating radiation called the Scourge makes much of Andromeda space dangerous for ships to even travel through, and has even turned potential colony planets uninhabitable. On top of that, a new hostile race called the Kett poses a threat to all life in Andromeda. Meanwhile tensions are high between the Initiative and the Angara, the native race of Andromeda, and racial relations are crucial to prevent making another intelligent species our enemy. Finally, Ryder’s father has perished, and his role as the human Pathfinder, a leader charged with ensuring the survival of their species, has been passed onto Ryder. It is up to them and the player to somehow make the Andromeda Initiative work.

          Let’s get the obvious criticisms out of the way first: the facial animation and glitches. Many have torn ‘Andromeda’ to shreds for its lacklustre facial animation, in which characters stare with wide-eyed blank expressions, and the various parts of their face move with an uncomfortable strain. The vocal performances are still up to the series’ standards, but hearing them come out of these uncanny androids is distracting, especially when paired with stiff body movements that don’t quite sync up with the character’s tone or mood. Yes, Mass Effect, and Bioware games generally, have always suffered from awkward character models and stiff animation, but this was either a case of it being especially bad, or the straw that broke the camel’s back; people simply cannot accept lacklustre presentation when they’re trying to engage themselves in a virtual world. The various game-breaking glitches and character movement bugs don’t help either, leading to a disappointing feeling of sloppiness. I understand why so many people damned this part of the game, especially closer to release when things were even worse.

          Having said all of that, I am tired of this being the only point of discussion when it comes to ‘Mass Effect: Andromeda’. When people discuss ‘Andromeda’, it’s only about its animation and glitches. I realise that such a striking and immediate fault would be a major talking point, but I have little interest in reducing my overall impressions of a game to what ultimately amounts to presentational issues. Mass Effect was never just about presentation. It was an experience that blended fine characterisation, worldbuilding, and some solid gameplay. The character models are not great. Now let’s move on to discuss how the rest of the game holds up.

          When you’re not having conversations with characters or advancing the story and making tough decisions from a list of options for each situation, Mass Effect games are third-person shooters with a range of tools to play with. In addition to a diverse range of futuristic guns, the player has access to skills and abilities that can be powered up as they progress through the game. Maybe you want to be a soldier specialising at using weapons and military equipment, or a tech-savvy engineer that hacks enemy equipment and uses gadgets to adapt to any situation, or perhaps you want to enhance your biotic abilities, the equivalent of psychic powers in the Mass Effect universe which happen because… um, convoluted lore and backstory, shut up, you can lift a man into the air and snipe him out of the sky.

          ‘Andromeda’ does a decent job encouraging you to explore the different abilities found in each class, as you can switch between a set of four customisable profiles, allowing you to mix and match classes if you don’t want to commit to playing the game in one particular style throughout the whole playthrough. I appreciate the effort, and think it works well to a degree. However, because of the profile system, you only have access to three abilities at a time, and when you switch profiles your abilities are all automatically set on a cooldown. What this means is that when you’re done using three abilities and want to seamlessly switch to another set to unleash more powers, you have to wait for a while before you can use those new powers. For people who enjoyed focusing more on the powers and abilities rather than the weapons, this can feel limiting. Maybe I was missing some trick to speed up the cooldowns which would allow me to snap between profiles and have my powers ready to go, but the game doesn’t exactly walk you through the intricacies of the combat, so you’re left on your own to figure stuff out.

          A neat feature which changes up the combat is the new ability to use a jump-pack and evade dash. Since enemies still orient themselves to cover, you can use the jump-pack to leap over cover and slam down, or, alternatively, temporarily hover and fire down on them from above. It’s another option for the player to use or not use at their discretion, and it fits in seamlessly with the rest of the mobility found in combat. Where it starts to present a problem is how it affects movement outside of combat. You see, when you’re exploring alien worlds, the jump-pack is there to allow Ryder to traverse the landscape and free up vertical movement when, say, climbing a mountain. But the geometry isn’t always smooth, so Ryder will leap up, but not quite find a landing large enough to stay put. As a result, exploring Andromeda often boils down to mashing the jump button as you continuously slam your head against a steep surface until you somehow reached the top. Things get even worse when you’re in the Remnant sites, ancient ruins with machinery from an unknown dead civilisation. These sites are meant to elicit wonder, like a hidden tomb in an ‘Indiana Jones’ film. Instead, they boil down to platforming segments as the machinery morphs into a series of platforms for you to traverse by jumping and climbing. What should be a glimpse into the game’s deeper lore becomes a disjointed sequence that feels very much like something that only exists because this is a video game. Ryder also moves in a floaty way when they’re not involved in combat, so you’re not so much controlling Ryder as you are struggling to convince them to go in the direction you need. Consequently, platforming becomes imprecise and unsatisfying.

          It took me a little while to warm to the worldbuilding, but I did end up really liking what they were going for. At first, all the people you meet are fellow volunteers that went on this Andromeda Initiative, which means there’s a bit less diversity between individuals. For a long time, one of the dialogue options for every single person you come across will always be “so why did you join the Initiative?”, like students awkwardly falling back on “so what subject are you studying” as an ice-breaker. For the early parts of the game, I was worried that we weren’t really getting a new world with countless different perspectives to explore, but rather a pretty environment with a bunch of people who all shared the exact same “oh gee whiz, I just want to explore the universe!” philosophy. However, as you go further along, you do start to see that people have their own reasons, and not all of them can be chalked up to a starry-eyed spirit for adventure. I also appreciated being someone in charge of making the Initiative work and meeting people who had different attitudes towards it after things start to go wrong. You have to decide whether to try and convince the disenfranchised that there’s still hope, or to move forward with honest transparency and trust that people will have the strength to cope with it on their own.

          Things become even more interesting when the Angara come into play. From that point on, ‘Andromeda’ is not just about ensuring the survival of the people placed under your care in a hostile environment, but also about navigating the many obstacles and pitfalls that come with establishing a co-operative relationship with a new civilisation. First contact is something the original Mass Effect trilogy never really covered. All of that had already happened, and served as the lore for a pre-established universe. Here, you get to see every part of this new relationship between species unfold, and much of the questions that you would ask and the themes you’d want to explore are gone into through the many side missions and small tasks that you can undertake throughout the game. This is my favourite aspect of the game, and ‘Andromeda’ delivered a lot of satisfying and memorable moments that focused on this premise.

          I also enjoyed going through this with the new cast of characters. The new crew will never hold a candle to your squadmates from the Normandy back in the original trilogy, but I did find myself becoming attached to the characters as I fought alongside them. I was frustrated by Liam constantly causing problems, but also loved his optimism and the fact he never stopped trying, even when things went wrong. Vetra, as the Turian squadmate, was always going to be cool, but I thought the issues she was dealing with as an older sister forced to take responsibility in an uncertain environment made her a solid character underneath an appealing visual design. Cora and Peebee didn’t get as much time in my squad as the others, but I warmed to them once I got to know what made them tick, even if their surface personalities didn’t do as much for me. Drack was my second favourite squadmate, and not just because it’s been too long since we’ve had a Krogan on the team. Stanley Townsend delivers Drack’s sage advice with a badass gruffness, as well as an assured certainty that sells the fact this character has lived and fought for over a thousand years. Drack is fun, but also wiser and more nurturing than his jagged exterior would have you believe. Much like the other players I’ve spoken with, Jaal has become my favourite character in the game. As the Angaran squadmate, he’s a fascinating representation for the species, and I thought it made the most sense to have him on every mission to ensure that I constantly had the Angaran perspective in mind when making my decisions. He is sincere, hilarious, and shows multiple sides to his identity which, instead of making him feel ill-defined, results in him being the most well-rounded personality on the team. Nyasha Hatendi gives Jaal a rich charm through his voice, and I think he, as well as the rest of the cast, should be very proud of their performances.

          The one area where the characters appear weak is the main villain. The Kett are interesting enough once you discover what they intend to do to the people of Andromeda and are left guessing at their motives, but the Archon, their leader, is a disposable Saturday morning cartoon of a villain. He pontificates and does nothing except tell Ryder that the Kett are superior and we will never succeed, and his dialogue just repeats this ad nauseum. This is most grating in the final boss fight, where his big ‘GRRR I’M AN EVIL BAD GUY’ voice is constantly chiming in with updates that yes, he is totally going to kill us all, and that he is the ultimate being, blah blah bloody blah. How did we go from fascinating antagonists like Saren and the Illusive Man to this? Those guys represented a real threat, but when they showed up to have a conversation with you, they had your full attention. Their philosophy had led them to twisted conclusions, but you could understand it, and to a certain level, even agree with them. I could never find myself giving the Archon anywhere near the same level of respect as these two, and I certainly never found the threat he posed to be as haunting as the elemental terror the Reapers instilled.

          The thing that bothered me the most while playing ‘Andromeda’ was that, the further I got into it, the more it felt like I wasn’t exploring a living, breathing world, but moving down a checklist. Missions and tasks pile up, and so many of them can be boiled down to ‘go to this exact point on the map, and then you’ll either have to scan a thing, or a fight will break out’. Yes, the characters you engage with along the way provide context which can make you care about the implications of what you’re doing. But there’s little room for deviation or a winding road along the way. You simply move to an exact point on the map, do a thing, then move onto the next thing. Even within missions, there are so many times where things are padded out when you try a door or a bridge and you’re told ‘this isn’t working; go five feet over there and scan that object or switch it on. Done it? Okay, now we can move on’. It seems like an unnecessary detraction, and if this tangent doesn’t engage the player, why bother? I don’t feel like an explorer playing this game, but someone doing a job. In a strange way, that does kind of work with the context of being placed in a position of responsibility and endeavouring to help in as many places as you can. But not everyone is going to think like that, and even with that concession I found the experience to drag at times.

          I’ve had a great deal of complaints about this game, but I do think there is some good content in there. I care about this world and its characters, and there were countless moments where I was confronted with problems on both the large and small scale which made me pause and deliberate. These are some of the most vital components to a Mass Effect game, and I believe ‘Andromeda’ does well in these areas. But there is a lot of things about it that detract from the overall experience. I would be a lot more on board with the theme of exploration that every character goes on about if the way we explored this universe wasn’t so stiff and ordered (it also doesn’t help that ‘Breath of the Wild’ from earlier this year handles open-world exploration so much more masterfully, but that’s for another review). I’ve said my problems, and so have many people in the gaming community, as well as the Mass Effect fanbase. Yet for all its faults, I am glad I played ‘Mass Effect: Andromeda’ for all those times I felt truly engaged with its world. The game’s poor reception may mean that we won’t see it for some time, but I think it deserves to be expanded upon and refined in a subsequent instalment.

For its technical features, I’d give ‘Mass Effect: Andromeda’ a 5/10, but to give you my honest take-away from this, I’m giving it a…

6/10.

Its flaws are numerous, but the experience is kept afloat by a compelling premise and many moments with solid characterisation and interesting moral dilemmas. A rough ride, but one I’m glad I saw through to the end.

[araeph]

Defiance, Part 3

[Part 1 | Part 2]

Summary: Katara never thought she’d take shelter from the Water Tribe in the Fire Nation. Zuko never thought he’d build a life with someone he is only supposed to be seeing for fun. And neither one knows just how close their countries are to self-destruction. 

 [For Zutara month, Day 3, “A New Year”]

“So they’re finally sending someone.”

A low chortle was heard around the council table, and Zuko did his best to control his temper. One half-hearted nighttime chase in pursuit of a smuggler hadn’t yielded what he’d hoped for. He was certain that one of the men debating policy with him today was selling arms—for some unknown purpose—to the Earth Kingdom. But instead of nabbing a go-between who might possibly turn in his associates, or even a payload of blasting jelly, what had he discovered? Circus animals. Rare Earth Kingdom circus animals, who were beating their forelimbs against their cages and making such a racket Zuko didn’t know how the operation had been kept quiet in the first place. It turned out Zuko had mistaken his target for a twin brother who was also in the smuggling business, and who had all but certainly been informed by now of the masked figure who was dogging him. It had not been a good hunt.

And now, he had to suffer through hours of councilmen attempting to alter the treaty with the Water Tribes before its ambassador had even set foot in the Caldera.

Be like Uncle, he told himself, schooling his face into its best neutral expression. (An expression he’d never been very good at, according to Azula.) Persuade them to be reasonable. He’s letting you run this meeting; show him that you’re up to it.

“We will not be lowering the pay ceiling for reparations,” he stated with finality. “The Water Tribe will interpret that as going back on our bargain.”

“Maybe we should go back on it,” insisted General Shinu, an old holdover from his father’s reign that even Iroh hadn’t managed to oust from his position of power. Zuko stalled the mutter of agreement with a shake of his head, but the general continued. “It’s been twelve years to the day, and what have we received in return for scattering our gold across the North Pole? They fortify their barriers and give us nothing.”

“The idea behind reparations,” Zuko reminded them through gritted teeth, “is not to receive anything. It is to do right by the people we have wronged and show them we are an honorable nation.”

“We do not need their approval to show off our honor!” Shinu proclaimed. “Every country in the world knows the progress we have made, the inventions we have created, the social improvements that other societies could only dream about. Tell me, Prince Zuko. Has the Northern Tribe abolished child marriage? Has it opened the ranks of its warriors to women? Does it allow for inventors and artisans to rise up the ladder of success? Or does it keep everyone down who doesn’t fit its own archaic mode of living?”

Zuko pounced. “I’m glad you are so concerned with modernizing the Four Nations, General Shinu. Perhaps we could begin right here with our own. What do you say to revisiting the idea of allowing qualified commoners into the war chamber? I think we would benefit from some fresh blood—the blood of the living, instead of the blood of the dead.”

Several of the councilors’ faces puckered as if they had eaten an unripe pomegranate.

“If not,” Zuko continued, constraining a sigh of relief at having regained control of the room, “we will present the treaty as planned, and discuss only the revisions that the Water Tribe might be willing to accept.”

“Prince Zuko,” Governor Xiao interjected. He was a moderate voice at most meetings, and Zuko wasn’t sure yet which side he’d take in this debate. “Why do you think they waited so long to make contact? And shouldn’t there be more of an exchange between our nations than there has been?”

Zuko glanced around the table. “I think they are waiting for us to make the first move,” he said. “And that is what we will do. I am not opposed to reestablishing the pre-Sozin trade routes, now that we have been at peace for several years. But we can’t wait for them to hint at allowing ships into their port or our lifting the Gates of Azulon. We will show them, by the suggestions we make, the course we are setting for our countries. The rest is up to them.”

With a nod, the Fire Prince adjourned the meeting. Uncle, deliberately sitting at the far end of the table, gave him a slight nod of approval. He had done well, and his father would never have acknowledged success even if Zuko had lived up to his standards.

So why did that sign of approval only make his mood worse?

***

The men were all away at the meeting hall again, preparing for Pakku’s voyage the next day. It was just a matter of logistics now, Katara knew: which warriors would have the prestigious duty of speeding their ships westward. According to Sokka’s calculations, ships powered by waterbending and sail still outpaced the weighty, beaked Fire Nation warships that ran on coal and steam. However, the the larger the ship, the closer the sailing times became; lighter craft were still the domain of the waterbenders. She’d asked him then, why they shouldn’t combine both steel and bending, and he’d said, “Exactly! But Dad and the others won’t hear of metal ships in our harbor ever again.”

She’d comforted him, as she always had, with freshly stewed sea prunes and a small ice sculpture of a tiger seal to decorate his new home. Katara worried about Sokka, sometimes. It wasn’t the pressure of being the chief’s son, so much as it was his eccentric way of thinking in the face of a growing sense of conformity in their culture. The northerners disdained any innovation based on Fire Nation ships, saying the Water Tribe might as well hoist the colors of the Southern Raiders if that were the case. (A rare fight had broken out in response to the name of the same naval force that had killed Katara’s mother.) Chief Hakoda personally prided himself on raising a son full to the brim with “Water Tribe genius,” but Katara could tell by the way Sokka sometimes lingered on the edges of the group of young warriors that the Southern Water Tribe was slowly closing its ranks to outside ideas.

A shiver ran down Katara’s spine, and even in the subzero weather, she knew where it had come from. Her hand reached inside her parka to pat the scroll with Hahn’s message on it, one she had read and reread.

She clenched her jaw and held her head high. He was a consummate politician, her supposed husband-to-be. Everything he said or implied about her lack of options was correct. If she wanted to be the perfect self-sacrificing role model to her people, she would have to go along with a marriage that would slowly suffocate, if not bury her, giving all of her energy, talent, and children to the Northern Water Tribe.

But she wasn’t going down without a fight. After all, there was plenty of time before a marriage took place to make him regret his decision.

“Whoa, hey!”

A colony of four-finned penguins, one of the few to remain inside the village limits once the northerners had helped expand it, squawked happily as they shuffled by her. Completely unafraid, they raced along—as fast as penguins could race—in pursuit of the scraps once the hunters had finished gutting their catch from the day. Katara knew better than to try to cut them off and be mobbed by a gaggle of angry food-seeking penguins, so she resigned herself to waiting for them to pass.

“Even the birds don’t take me seriously,” she muttered under her breath.

Eventually the stream of black-and-white waddlers slowed to a trickle and Katara was able to make her way across to see her brother.

As a wedding gift, Chief Arnook had commissioned the best ice architects to construct a house for the newlyweds. No longer an igloo in the southern style, the house resembled the multi-chambered pavilions of the bride’s home city, with clear panes of ice set firmly in the rounded windows and steps leading up to the doorway. The door, carved blue stone, was a nod to the lack of waterbenders in the household to open a snow portal (though Arnook kept voicing his hopes about Sokka’s children, much to the latter’s irritation).

Katara ran up the steps, but stopped on the verge of knocking. A deep sadness washed over her, knowing not only that this might be good-bye for a long time, but that she couldn’t even tell him. He would never let her go off on her own.

The door opened while she was still hesitating, revealing Yue in her nightclothes, her long hair flowing down past her waist and her cheeks flushed.

“Sorry!” said Katara. “I—I didn’t realize it was so late, I just thought I’d stop by.”

Yue laughed. “It’s not that late, Katara, don’t worry. Sokka’s just very—well—”

“My sweet moon goddess, where are you?” called Sokka’s voice from the house. “I’m wearing the boots you made, just like you wanted!”

Yue gave out a mortified gasp and tried to block the doorway, Katara wisely turning around just before Sokka had shuffled into the room, then shrieked at seeing the door open.

“KATARA!” he said, his voice climbing higher with every syllable. “You can’t just barge in here anymore, I’m a married man!”

Katara couldn’t help snickering. “Sorry, oh manliest of brothers. I hope those new boots hold up under the strain!”

“Okay, that’s it.” She heard the sound of Sokka hopping about on one foot, obviously trying to get out of his boots and into his clothes before she could tease him further. “The next time I get an idea about the aquifer, I’m not going to even call you over for a conference. How do you like THAT?”

“Sure you won’t.” He could never resist calling her in to admire the latest drafts of his idea, which admittedly looked more like beginner bone whittling than engineer sketches, but were based on a much more solid knowledge of physics than she possessed. “Can I turn around now?”

A put-upon sigh answered her.

“Sokka,” Yue chided gently. “Katara, please do come in.”

She’s so good for him, Katara realized with a flash of envy. She knows how to ground him without making him feel like he doesn’t measure up. And he knows how to get her to bend the rules a little without compromising the principles she was raised with. For all of the spats and differences in customs that the North and South possessed, her brother and his wife were the best of both worlds, and a symbol to the tribes that unity without assimilation was truly possible. She hoped they could lean on each other when they found out she was gone.

Her brother rubbed his head sheepishly before giving her a quick hug. “Sorry. You know I don’t mean to throw you out in the cold, or anything. You’re always welcome.”

Katara smirked. “You mean, almost always.” Before he could retort, she added, “Look, I know it’s not the most convenient time. I just thought … well, I thought I’d ask you a bit about the Fire Nation. You know, since we might be reestablishing relations and all that.”

“Yeah.” Sokka shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “To be honest, I still don’t know how to feel about it, and I don’t think Dad does, either. I mean, we know what happened to Mom was an isolated incident, and that the raids stopped after. But—well, you know. It doesn’t feel that way, not to us. And what’s worse is how unpredictable they are.” He spread his hands. “One minute they leave us alone, the next they go into full Sozin the Conqueror mode, and the next they’re saying, ‘Oh whoops, sorry, here have some compensation for being attacked and have a nice day’! I mean, even if we believe that Firelord Iroh wants peace, what’s to say he’ll still be on the throne in five years? In ten? What’s going to keep the Fire Nation from going right back to where we were when the treaty was signed? Let me tell you, there were plenty of soldiers willing to just go along with Ozai’s plan, and they’re not all out for retirement.”

“I know.” Katara paused for a moment and gathered her courage. “And if the treaty does succeed, then what? Am I going to stop being courted by the northerners and married off to the Fire Nation instead?”

“I know, right? No wants to take that chance!”

“Yeah.” Katara looked at her brother meaningfully. “I’ll bet the northerners would hate the thought of a Water Tribe woman joining with a Fire Nation man.”

Sokka rolled his eyes. “They see all Water Tribe women, even in the South, as ‘theirs,’ so that’s a safe bet.”

“And imagine if it wasn’t even a marriage.” Yue’s eyes narrowed at her sister-in-law, not quite as oblivious as Katara’s brother. “They’d completely lose their minds, wouldn’t they? I bet that’s why they’re not taking any women with Master Pakku. They’re afraid someone will try forbidden fruit in the Fire Nation.”

“Katara!” Sokka yelped. “Where do you even get ideas like this?”

“Sokka, you really have no idea what women talk about when they’re alone, do you?” At his scandalized look, “I thought not. Well anyway, it’s been great chatting with you!”

Sokka held up a hand. “Wait, wait, Katara. What is this about? You’re not acting like yourself. Is something going on?”’

Unable to confide in him, even now, Katara swallowed and decided to air her other grievance. “They should let me go with them. As ambassador of the South. But they won’t.”

“Yeah.” Their eyes met. “Yeah, I know. Listen, once Pakku makes contact with His Great and Terrible Firelordyness, maybe they’ll let you tag along. I’ll speak to Dad; maybe he can speed up those old curmudgeons.”

“We can only hope.” Katara resisted the urge to hug him again, knowing if she did, she might not be able to let go. “Thanks for being there, Sokka. You and Dad and Yue. It means a lot.” She made a shooing motion with her hands. “You can go back to bed now. I’m going to visit Gran-Gran.”

Her brother gave her a last searching look before turning around and jogging back to the room he shared with his wife. Yue’s eyes followed her husband down the hallway, but she stayed where she was.

“Katara,” she began. But Katara shook her head and made a sharp swish with her hands just below the nearest ice window. The snow curled away into water, and what remained was the shape of a circle enclosing an ocean wave.

The same symbol that was carved on her mother’s necklace at her throat.

Without a word, Katara slipped out into the night. She didn’t have much time.

[Part 4]

[woollyqueen]

NEW MINDS EYE

MENUFROM FEMINIZED FLORA TO FLORAL FEMINISM: GENDER REPRESENTATION AND BOTANY

Kelly McLeod

This essay investigates how women and botanical subjects have come to signify each other and been exploited through processes of marginalization by patriarchal capitalist systems, as well as how women have reclaimed their identities by altering the dialogue in botanical metaphor. Language and classification systems in Eurocentric cultures have applied gender binary thought to nature, characterizing it as feminine. The idea that women and nature are not only linked, but inferior to the binary opposition of the masculine and the logical has been reinforced by botanical metaphor, Linnaean taxonomy, and other sign systems. This division of power has enabled the exploitation of women and nature based on capitalist myths of exchange and sign value, and the subversion of other values which exist outside of capital interest. Women’s bodies and nature’s resources have been commodified, aestheticized, and sexualized for the purpose of capital gain within an ocular-centric society, where prioritization of the beautiful conceals complex identities and agency. The presentation of plants as performative botanical subjects in gardens and scientific illustrations conceals their native contexts, creating a decontextualized understanding of man’s relationship to nature (one of cultivator/cultivated), and by extension to femininity. I will be focusing on how 17th to 19th century gender politics have affected modern science and philosophy, using feminism as a methodology and gender theory analysis. By applying more contemporary insights to the way in which the past is understood, it becomes easier to recognize the systems and processes by which nature and women have come to be associated and oppressed. I would also like to show how many women have reversed some of the hurtful gendered stereotypes by engaging in the dialogue of femininity and reclaiming the botanical metaphor as s symbol of strength and knowledge.

European science, industrialization and capitalism all rely on myth and the reductionist world view to create hierarchical divisions of knowledge and power within their systems. In the sciences, these systems implement a binary of specialist knowledge versus ignorance, so that authority of particular topics is inaccessible to all but a privileged few. This divide excludes women, indigenous people, and nature from positions of power and respect, and thus they become resources to be exploited for capital gain. Through this binary language of masculine European dominance, several myths are created. Firstly, the myth of science is that it is value-free, objective, and infallible. Second, the capitalist myth that the earth and human labor can sustainably be endlessly extracted as raw materials to be transformed into capital. This mechanized world view leaves no room for sympathy with one’s environment, or with exploited people, as they are only seen as resources. These myths are simply not true, and the world has already begun to see the affects of global warming and biodiversity decline as a direct result of this mindset disregarding nature’s value outside of the capitalist paradigm (Mies & Shiva, 2014). Despite the evidence that these ideologies are imperfect, they are reinforced by sign systems that permeate everyday life. In Myth Today, Barthes (1984) describes the construction of myth through the signified, signifier, and signs which in turn form the basis for symbol and myth. In the context of capitalist patriarchal science, we see that women and nature have come to signify each other; creating a ‘sign’ that is opposite of, inferior to, and ‘other’ from the logical man. This ‘other,’ feminized nature, then becomes a signifier for raw materials and resources to be extracted to support the symbol of capital. This in turn signifies the myth of the sustainability of capitalism through the systematic exploitation of the regenerative power of nature, women, and the labor of non-European peoples (Mies & Shiva, 2014).

During the enlightenment, European culture became fascinated with logic and rationalism as a way of understanding the natural world (Mies & Shiva, 2014). Through this system, man separates himself from nature, creating a binary in which man’s logic is a method for classification and domination. This obsession with classification was driven by the imperial need for capital and power. The natural sciences, which were meant to be value-fee and objective, were driven by capitalist imperialism and were susceptible to the political and gender biases of the time. Linnaean taxonomy became a perfect colonial tool for the homogenization of botanical knowledge for the purposes of bio-prospecting, as well as giving botanical science a professional status excluding women and native peoples. Sciences that were once considered “women’s knowledge” (such as herbalism) became discredited. As the work of women in science became appropriated, the role of the feminine gender within society became weakened. Binomial nomenclature became the standardized naming system for plants around the globe, and as each new species was ‘discovered,’ it was “named” by a masculine European voyager (O’Donnell, 2010). The Latinate names of these plants are deceptive; the native cultural contexts in which the plant had previously existed are erased by this notion of ‘discovery,’ as if its existence is only legitimized by the masculine proclamation of a European scientist. Secondly, Linnaean taxonomy itself is sexualized, gendered, and ocular-centric. Since plant names are often based on morphologic description, the use-value of the plant becomes one dimensionally aestheticized by being reduced solely to its visual characteristics (Ryan, 2009). The final insult to nature in colonial botany is that the plant is assessed for its commodified value in European markets (whether for food, medicine, or decoration in gardens) and brought back to Europe to be arranged and cultivated in artificial environments.

Plants and nature are further compartmentalized and decontextualized through the process of symbolic display in botanical gardens. By featuring a variety of plant life from around the world, these gardens become a microcosmic expression of imperial wealth and power (Mukerji, 2005). The plant as a living being is subverted by being perceived as a horticultural object; part of a spectator-spectacle relationship in which it is viewed for its beauty. As the bloom is valued as the most beautiful and desirable phase within the life cycle of a plant, its seasonal appearance creates the illusion of performativity to be admired by human. This hierarchical relationship casts the plant (representing nature, beauty, and femininity) as an object meant to be used for the delight of the rational masculine subject (Ryan, 2009).

Many 17th to 19th century philosophers, who are still highly influential today, have compared women and flowers for their beauty, frailty, and intellectual inferiority to men. When upper class women began to take interest in botanical subjects due to Erasumus Darwin’s poem The Botanic Garden, there was much controversy over their ability to reason and partake in the sciences. It was thought by Rousseau that women only took interest in logic and reason as a way of embellishment; as if a woman wanting to educate herself was synonymous with being fashionable. Though women were thought to be closer to nature, it seemed that they still were not allowed to engage with it scientifically. Women’s ability to reason was further undermined by comparisons to plants in ways that emphasized their weakness, immobility, and performative beauty. Hegel contrasted men and women by stating that man is more like an animal, where women are more like plants. As man is seen to have agency, be active and able to take action; a woman is seen as more plant-like and passive. Since man is active he may move about and acquire knowledge that is universal, and though while women may have “insights,” they are only local, and limited by emotions and lack of mobility. Burke believed that women’s beauty, like flowers, is directly correlated with their weakness and reluctance; an idea reinforced by Kant’s description of femininity as delicate and naive (George, 2007). Other botanical metaphors specifically targeted women as frivolous and trendy, such as Alexander Pope’s comparison of feminine beauty to that of variegated tulips; specifically alluding to the fact that such tulips were planted in dung and thus the apparent beauty is a symptom of hidden ugliness (George, 2007). In The Flowers Personified, written in 1849, by J. J. Grandville, women were literally portrayed as flowers, representing gendered notions of femininity such as the archetypal “damsel in distress” (Branson, 2012). These satirical comparisons do both women and plants a disservice: by showcasing weakness and beauty at the expense of intellect, they create a feminine paradigm that is essentially subordinate to masculinity, ignorant of the values women and plants have to offer beyond ornament. Mary Wollstonecraft engaged with this misrepresentation of women as frivolous plants in “A Vindication of the Rights of Women,” in which she asserted that women have fulfilled this idealized but faltering vision of beauty only because of the way society had ‘cultivated’ them as objects of beauty, thus depriving women recognition of and encouragement for their mental capabilities. Wollstonecraft challenges the way in which women and exotic flowers are compared, revealing that these expressions are ultimately the projections of male desire (George, 2007). Wollstonecraft was addressing the symptom of deeply engrained sexism within her society. By making gendered associations to visual similarities between women and plants, women are made to be thought of in terms of their bodies rather than their minds and are denied autonomy. In this way women are dehumanized, being made ‘other’ from men. Men are seen as people, where as women are seen as their gender. Therefore, the notion of gender is problematic because it automatically signifies women as a deviation from what is ‘normal’ or human (Butler, 1990).

Since women were discouraged or restricted from professional science in the 17th to 19th centuries, many chose to engage with botanical knowledge through gendered proclivities, such as needlework and art. Women who attended local seminars to learn more about botany were also discouraged, as they were not taken seriously by their male peers who focused more on their appearance than their academic interests. Though women learned of botany through many of the same channels as men, their work was undermined by their gender. Much of the art and women’s writing has been categorized as crafts and hobbies and thus not considered as serious contributions to botanical knowledge. Even in the case of botanist and illustrator Maria Sibylla Merian, who was an explorer and scientist who studied plants and insects, was portrayed as a maternal figure rather than a professional scientist in the publication of her work (Branson, 2012). As women’s historical work with botany has been improperly categorized, this knowledge becomes harder to access today. It is unknown what histories have been hidden or what developments may have happened if women had not been hindered from entering the professional sciences by their gender.

Women’s growing interest in botany and Linnaean’s sexual classification system also raised issues of women’s sexuality and decency. The first component of The Botanic Garden is a portion titled The loves of plants in which pollination is described as taking place on the marital bed between gendered husband and wife plants. The most scandalous, however, was the metaphorical description describing ways in which some flowers pollinate with various partners or “concubines” and other flowers sexual systems are barely visible and reproduce in “clandestine” marriages. This information was thought to be scandalous and improper for women to know (George, 2007). Mary Delany, who lived 1700-1788, was one artist who was greatly influenced by these writings, as her artwork is often thought to be an expression of female anatomy and sexuality. The concept that plants reproduction seemed similar to that of humans, and in a ways that did not denote compulsory heteronormativity and monogamy, became a metaphor through which she could describe her intimate relationships with her female friends (Moore, 2005). In her paper cut-outs created from when she was between the ages of 74 to 82 years of age, she uses the associations of femininity and flora and creates bold images where the flower is celebrated. Unlike the dissections of botanical subjects created as scientific documents, her intimate collages give the flower a sense of identity and sensuality. Though Delany’s incredible works were both striking and accurate, they have been discredited and thought of as craft rather that high art due to the fact that she was a woman (Moore, 2005).

Botanical art, as differentiated from botanical illustration, was long considered an amateur craft that was acceptable for women (Moore, 2005). Whereas botanical illustration made to serve specific scientific needs, botanical art is less regimented and thus can be open to more expressive interpretations of botanical subjects. Though it has faced gendered discrimination over the years, and often been thought of as kitsch or purely decorative, botanical art can show unique analyses of the natural world. As a member of botanical art community, I have observed that women are still the predominant inheritors of this traditional gendered practice, continuing to reclaim botanical imagery and femininity. Plants are depicted as living individuals as opposed to generalized specimens to be dissected and compartmentalized. Botanical art celebrates plants for their individuality rather than their adherence to standard characteristics needed for speciation, and often challenges tradition beauty standards. Fiona Strickland, for example, paints dying flowers. The dead flower is an individual, rather than a specimen, with which the viewer can empathize. Rosie Saunders is another contemporary botanical artist who shifts the perception of flowers as delicate and timid by painting them at a very large scale. This creates a space where the plant is given power, and the once frail petals become an impressive and unfamiliar landscape. Today botanical art is thriving, more popular than ever before. Women continue to take back the dialogue and question the passivity of plants and femininity by applying their knowledge and experience into stunning visuals that have impact on the way inherent value of nature and biodiversity is perceived.

Understanding gendered power dynamics can help explain the ways in which women and nature have come to be associated in ways that have been systematically harmful. From commodification to aestheticization, capitalist patriarchal systems have marginalized that which is not perceived as ‘masculine.’ Systems within the natural sciences were developed for imperial purposes, thus creating bias and privileging European males; shaping a view of nature as the opposite of logic, and a thing to be dominated. Understanding of these systems can be applied to the way in which botanical metaphor implemented to change feminine paradigms and allow for the acceptance of more humanized, complex identities. Representing botanical subjects as unique, living individuals can help create a sympathetic (rather than mechanistic) vision of the natural world, equalizing gendered binaries and allowing for respect of natural resources and the acknowledgment of complex feminine identities.

References

Barthes, R. & Lavers, A. (Trans) (1984) Myth Today, Mythologies, New York: Hill and Wang.

Branson, S. (2012) Flora and Femininity: Gender and Botany in Early America. Common-Place, American Antiquarian Society and the University of Connecticut, http://www.common-place.org/vol-12/no-02/branson/

Butler, J. (1990) Gender trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity, 1: Subject of Sex/Gender/Desire, New York: Routledge.

George, S. (2007) Botany, Sexuality, and Women’s Writing 1760-1830: From Modest Shoot to Forward Plant, Manchester: Manchester UP.

Moore, L. L. (2005) Queer Gardens: Mary Delany’s Flowers and Friendships. Eighteenth-Century Studies 39.1, pp. 49-70, http://www.jstor.org/stable/30053588

Mies, M. & Shiva, V. (2014) Ecofeminism, Halifax, N.S.: Fernwood Publications.

O’Donnell, R. (2010) ‘Imperial Plants: Modern Science, Plant Classification and European Voyages of Discovery’, Graduate Journal of Social Science, 7.1., http://gjss.org/sites/default/files/issues/chapters/papers/Journal-07-01–05-ODonnell.pdf

Ryan, J. C. & Rooney, Monique (ed.) (2009) ‘Plants That Perform For You’? From Floral Aesthetics to Floraesthesis in the Southwest of Western Australia,’ Australian Humanities Review, 47. pp. 117-40. Available from: http://www.australianhumanitiesreview.org/archive/Issue-November-2009/ryan.html

Mukerji, C. (2005) ‘Dominion, Demonstration, and Domination,’ In: Schiebinger, L. (ed.), Swan, C. (ed.). (2005) Colonial Botany, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania.

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August 29, 2015

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[caveartfair]

A Brief History of Living Coral, Pantone’s Color of the Year

Courtesy of Pantone.

In 1911, Russian abstract painter Wassily Kandinsky wrote in his book Concerning the Spiritual in Art: “Orange is like a man, convinced of his own powers.” Indeed, a century later, orange tones have been associated with a certain man in power with an affinity for the tanning bed.

But looking back at the hues that have been anointed Pantone’s color of the year over the past decade or so, it became clear that we were overdue for a vivid warm tone (the last one was 2012’s Tangerine Tango). And in fact, Pantone did choose a member of the orange family this year, a rich shade that evokes sunsets and the marine invertebrate, which inspired its name, Living Coral.

Like 2016’s Greenery, Pantone chose a punchy, optimistic hue—officially, PANTONE 16-1546—that is linked to our natural world, drawing attention to the beauty of coral, a living organism that is dying fast due to our increasingly warming oceans.

Courtesy of Pantone.

Coral is the calcium-carbonate skeleton formed by undersea polyp (a tiny animal), which cluster together to form colonies, or reefs. It was first harvested for jewelry by the ancient Egyptians, and worn in Rome to ward off evil. (Pliny the Elder specifically noted its usefulness against temptresses.) That protective feature also made its way into the Renaissance—baby Jesus was often shown with a coral amulet. Coral was also highly valued in the Victorian era, when it was carved for delicate cameo portraits; it was incorporated into sleek Art Deco jewelry in the first half of the 20th century; and it was prized in its raw form by the hippies of the 1960s and ’70s.

When found in nature, coral is not always the same color; it can be a rosy pink, or a rare gold, or even ink black. Even Living Coral, a recognizable shade of pinkish red-orange, can shimmer between tones when seen under different light. Though Pantone’s purpose is to standardize the nuance of color, this multivalent choice is a reminder that colors are often in the eye of the beholder (quite literally).

Before the 16th century, if you had pointed to the color orange, someone in China would have said yellow, or saffron; in Europe, red, or geoluhread, Old English for yellow-red. It wasn’t until eponymous fruits were introduced to the West in the late 15th century, by way of Portuguese merchants coming from Asia, that the Sanskrit word nāraṅga was coined. It eventually made its way down the etymological ladder, populating the romance languages before its final stop in English as “orange.”

Sunset at Étretat, 1883. Claude Monet "Monet - Lost in Translation" at ARoS Aarhus Museum of Art, Aarhus

The first orange pigments were not red mixed with yellow, but naturally occuring ochres, muddied by impurities. The first vivid orange pigment was harvested from the mineral realgar in antiquity, but like many pigments, it’s dangerous. “Known as ‘the ruby of arsenic,’ realgar is extremely toxic,” paint-maker David Coles writes in his forthcoming book Chromotopia: An Illustrated History of Color. “The red crystals of the mineral yield a rich orange pigment, but it is made of arsenic disulphide.” Realgar was found in geothermal fissures, along with its yellow sister-mineral, orpiment. (Interestly enough, Coles notes, in China, though both were called yellow, the former was “masculine” while the latter was “feminine.”) But it wasn’t a hit with artists or craftsmen due to its instability as a color; it did, however, gain popularity as a means for pest control in the Middle Ages.

Minium, or “red lead,” was a more useful orange pigment. One of the first synthetic hues to ever be produced, it was created by the Roman Empire. Cheap and easy to make, red lead could come in shades of ruby or orange, and was used prolifically for centuries. It was especially favored for medieval paintings: Painters who specialized in its use were known as miniators; their craft, painting at a very small scale, often for illuminated manuscripts, was named “miniaturas,” the basis of the word we use to identify tiny things today.

Red lead gave way to vermilion in the Middle Ages, and the deep red of vermilion enjoyed a long history of use in Europe, India, and China. In the mid-18th century, technology had advanced far enough that all iron-oxide pigments (reds, oranges, and yellows) could be mass-produced. But it wasn’t until the introduction of cadmium yellow in 1840, followed by cadmium red in 1910, that the full range of orange hues was unleashed to the world. Cadmium pigments are much more chemically stable than their predecessors.

Red Hills with Flowers, 1937. Georgia O’Keeffe Art Institute of Chicago

Coral, being one of them, became a favorite among the Impressionists in the 20th century, from the sunrises of Claude Monet to the parasols of Martha Walter. It carried on into the warm scenes of Paul Gauguin’s French Polynesia, Paul Cézanne’s tabletop flowers, and Georgia O’Keeffe’s poppy blooms. It appeared in the paper cut-outs of Henri Matisse, and grew wild and lyrical in the works of the German Expressionists—Kandinsky, as mentioned, waxed poetic about its closest familial relation, describing orange as “red brought nearer to humanity by yellow.”

Orange has also been recognized as a color of introspection and spirituality. In Hinduism, orange represents purity; Buddhists, too, believe it to be the color of illumination, the perfected self. Monks of both religions may don robes that are closer to Tangerine Tango than Living Coral, but the history is there, just the same. As we enter 2019, we should remember coral’s links to perfection, to preciosity, and to protection from harm, and do our part to reciprocate and protect it, too.

from Artsy News

[emikostudio2018]

Emiko Sheehan 213.463 Fine Arts Research Seminar  Martin Patrick

One Lonely Moonchild transmits 70’s Disco vibrations, in hopes of your company.

Is it the Gravity of Darkness that pulls one mind close to another? When there is nothing but longing, can one find comfort in the dark? Gravity is different on the moon, where weight escapes, emotion floods the soul, like the rising and falling of the tides.

This semester I have been exploring through space and time, to bring you the finest experience of a moonchild, low on energy but way high with potential, reverberating sound and colour through a late 70’s disco space vibe. ‘wow, what a change from last year’s work Emiko’ is what you might be thinking, and that wouldn't be wrong at all. This year I have let go of all standards, and preconceived ideas about what I thought good art should be, and what I should be making, this is the era of me making whatever the fuck I want.

I’ve never really had a solid idea in my mind of what kind of artist I want to be, or even just being an artist. I don’t think being an artist or fine art holds the same value in my mind as some of my other peers, maybe. I ended up studying art by convenience really. I didn’t enter the degree with great hopes and aspirations to be an artist, I wanted to do this degree because it looked fun. It’s malleable and creative, which seemed very attractive to me at the time, little did I know that I would be faced with critical theory and self analysis that would destroying any ignorant delusion and blind enjoyment of every kind of media, art and people that I encountered, and there’s no going back to sleep once you woke......it’s not a bad thing though, just more work, that I think makes you a better human probably anyway.

Is this what makes a good artist though? thinking critically and consciously, seeing creative possibility, questioning one's daily life, their environment, the world, the universe. The world is the artists oyster, the universe is the artists seafood chowder. This kind of artistic critical engagement with the cosmos can open portals to good art I think, it can also open portals to existential crisis’ and a cynical glum with the world. For me it leaves me with a niggling feeling of dissatisfaction. I don’t particularly like this human reality, and it shows no signs of redemption. A quick mention to some of the shit things in the world would be; Empiricism, capitalism, consumerism, racism, actually all hierarchical tendencies, waste, pollution, and then all the stuff that spreads from those things... This is not a kind world, this is a human world. It makes complete sense for people outcasted and rejected by society, or those systematically disadvantaged to then reject their reality and look to fictitious predictions of the future, and alternate worlds for comfort and hope. I live a reasonably good life, I’ve never had to go hungry or be homeless, I have a family who love me and good friends, mostly I’m in good health, I get to go to university, I have a loving beautiful man, it's a good life. But I hate the capitalistic systems of the world we live in. I hate systematic racism, I hate the continued effects of colonisation, I hate superiority of knowledge, and established hierarchies, and i feel the effects of these things, not immensely, but enough. This niggling feeling can grow and shrink depending on the day, or the situation, but they never fade, and maybe this is why I am so attracted to science fiction and fantastical stories.

My interactions with sci-fi, happened by chance. I never notice the genre and thought, there’s something I like and want to know all about, probably because it is so broad and hard to define. I haven’t read any of the big classical sci-fi names, I entered through the back door, it just happened that my ex-boyfriends mum was a huge Ursula Le Guin fan, and she successfully converted me to Le Guinism. At a formative time of my life, Le Guin help me to work through a lot of socio-political issues and ideas, and to think critically about them. Through made up worlds with close to home narratives, Ursula Le Guin highlights political issues that we have on earth—such as binary gender norms, and capitalistic greed—as way of critique. This is one of my favourite tools of science-fiction. You can use this fiction to overtly deal to matters in our realities.

One point of difference with Ursula Le Guin than other science-fiction writers, is she does not tell stories of the future, and shies away from the term futurist[1]. So much of science-fiction is prediction of what could happen in the future, given the right/wrong technological/scientific advances. But Le Guin says that she only ever writes about the present, because all we have is the present. I’m guessing her Zen buddhist beliefs, and the tao ching, work their way into this self-analysis.

I think, like most things, I have a very left of centre approach to sci-fi. Being Maori, and having gone through the majority of this degree, somewhat deep in critical thought about art, media, and people in general, I’m always sceptical about what I read/watch/listen to, and like most things, there is a mainstream, dominant voice in science-fiction, which is….. two guesses…...that white male centricity. In some cases, science-fiction has given (fictitiously) justification for ‘othering’ certain peoples and claiming ‘normality’ for some [2]. Narratives that talk about alien invasions, and humanity bonding together for the greater good, can, if you look closer, permit ideas of racism and/or segregation. Scientifically defining what is ‘alien’ or ‘only 2/3rds human’ has lead to nasty behaviors amongst us human animals. This is ofcourse not always the case, and part of the greatness about Sci-Fi is that is can also work in the other direction and highlight issues of racism or classism etc. or dismiss them completely. As a fine arts Major, I am constantly looking at the world and how to respond. Thinking about how to incorporate science-fiction or science-fictiony themes into my art, leads to many fun mind games, basically because there are no limits, or the sky’s the limit, aaaayyyyeeee.

Ursula Le Guin pushed at the boundaries of science-fiction, when there weren’t many celebrated female writers. One of my favourite quotes of hers—which is from her fantasy series, rather than her more classically sci-fi books—is from The Earth Sea quintette, where Tena is talking to Moss, they are discussing the power of men, and Tena asks about the power of women? Moss gives the answer, that is the answer that the patriarchy like to bestow upon women, that women’s power and magic, it is mysterious, who knows where it begins and ends, it is deeper than the roots of trees, and goes back into the dark, who dares question the dark?... to which Tena replies, “I will! I lived in the dark long enough, and I will have the light too!”[3] In this conversation, Tena is answering back to the place that men have left for her, and saying yes, but I’ll will have what you have too. This is what Ursula Le Guin has done in so many of her books, she knew what she wanted, and wasn’t afraid to say it.  

I guess this is what makes science-fiction so exciting for me, it is a place that exists, but has no rules, and is free for anyone to use. Movements such a Afrofuturism—or over this side of the world Astronesians—are spaces where minority communities have taken advantage of what science-fiction has to offer.

In a world, a global society that was not built for them, minority groups, such as blacks in America, and people of the pacific, have built their own narratives and worlds through the use of science-fiction, constructing alternative realities. This was what Sun Ra did, around the 1950’s in Chicago. Sun Ra would play with his Arkestra, a big jazz ensemble and preach his vision of peace[4]. Sun Ra had an experience with some extraterrestrials, where he was teleported to Saturn, told to quit university and embrace his alien status to teach America and mainly black people in America how to teleport to saturn, where Sun Ra set up a colony that was peaceful and welcoming to everyone one. He taught his disciples to construct their own narratives through music[5].

Underneath all my experimentations this semester has been a base of writing, and thinking about writing my own narratives and alternate realities. This seemed like a logical step for me, since I started the year off with the main ideas in my head expanding from the idea of ‘Astronesian’ and ‘Space Māori’. It also seemed like a good idea, because I find studying very difficult and fitting my unique creative process into the structure of the 12 week semester doesn’t always work for me, so why not just make up my own shit, and do whatever I want, because who says that I can’t? Collecting terms like ‘Astronesian’ and ‘Space Māori’ gives me a way to feel comfortable in expressing my discomfort, and weird outcast tendencies, I mean you could do this with any genre and area of art, I’ve just chosen a sci-fi approach.

I first heard Coco Solid using the word Austronesian when she came and put on a show in the engine room a couple years ago. I was inspired by the way she approached an exhibition, it wasn’t like anything I had seen before in that space. I volunteered to help, and when I got there, there was big roles of brown paper, printed pictures of coco cream and a life size print out of Steven Adams. I was asked to make a waka out of cardboard and shiny chrome plastic material. Coco Solid wanted a chrome waka like on the cover of The Patea Maori club single, Aku Raukura, a great example of some Space Māori art. The time that Coco Solid had the engine room for was mostly spent most constructing the huge wall collage of things that tied Māori traditional legend to modern day legend’s such as Steven Adams (Coco loves him). The wall had a fresh flavour, a solid political and social stance, while also being fun and collaborative. Coco Solid, just did what she wanted, and everyone else rolled with it. This was an experience that showed me how someone can be in the ‘art world’ and still do whatever they want, not having to necessarily follow the standardised formula of an exhibition. This wasn’t like a hugely defiant exhibition, but it was very much a fun time that coco solid constructed. Using the art system to her advantage aye.  

I often am confronted with responsibility, and privilege. I feel like, because I get to spend all of my time making art, and living pretty comfortably, I should be using my time to like, give back to the community or something. I want what I’m doing to be useful and to cause no harm. I think these are good things to keep in mind when making art, but what I need right now, is to develop and grown in myself, have some me art time, and make the things I want to, self love and care, spiritual connections.

So this has sent me on a path of completely new work. its pretty classic Emiko, to up and start a new art practice, that I don’t really know anything about. I begun this semester making video based art, and have ended up in performance, both areas of fine art that I hardly have any experience in. My familiar element is that I am still writing poetry and prose, but even writing as a practice I’ve only been doing seriously for a year. I feel like a child, I’m not quite sure what I’m doing. In this environment, where I have so many resources available to me, why would I only stink to one area of art making. I want to try everything, maybe I’m just indecisive. It sometimes does leave me feeling like I only know a little about everything, but not actually good at anything. In past years, I’ve tried very hard to make things, that I think will be good, and smart, have a political stance, uphold Māori values, I am still doing that, but not overtly. This year, I’ve opened up myself, and I’m serving up all the raw bits of my creative energy, following my spirit journey.

My spirit journey has led me to performance art. When I was in high school, I use to play in a band, I was never that good, but it was fun. My boyfriend at the time—who was also in the band and a natural musical genius—would sometimes make me feel incompetent in my music abilities. After a messy break up—where we probably both made each other feel pretty incompetent as humans—I was left feeling pretty insecure about playing music and performing. Though I think that performer/entertainer inside me has just been hibernating, and maybe now I’ve come full circle. This is the year for indulging all my inner kinks, and not giving a fuck about ex boyfriends.

My final performance for studio this semester was working with themes of isolation, space, the moon, dancing, and language, and of course a telling of these things from an astronesian point of view. It takes me a while to form a coherent idea or narrative of my work, at the beginning of the semester, I only knew that I wanted to go to space with my creations. I looked at artists such as Coco Solid, the Witch Bitch collective, The Pacific sisters, Lisa Reihana, Rosanna Raymond, Patricia Grace, Ursula Le Guin. I began by trying to create fully formed ideas and narratives of how I might put some Maori in space, but that ended up being very difficult. I already knew that I am not someone who creates a complete picture before construction, I work more organically, small particles reveal themselves into the light and slowly come together to form something whole from the dark. I had to step back and send out my aspirations into the cosmos, become an open vessel for celestial vibes to flow in.

This was no easy task, the harshness of this reality has strong gravity, I worked hard at my meditation, with little success. Then I was visited through telepathic fate, by a distant celestial relative. She was from a world very similar to ours, a planet and moon close in size to our own. This wahine lived on the moon of her world, too far away from the earth to have connection to anyone, but close enough to feel all the activity and love and heartache of the people on her earth. This moonchild explained to me that we were like an isotope, we had the same chemical properties, but existed in physically different planes. The moonchild told me how her moon rotates on a interdimensional frequency which picks up signals from any number of planets in the universe. The moonchild had had contact last with our earth in 1978. Sun Ra had actually picked up her frequency, our planet happened to be positioned perfectly to receive her vibrations. The moonchild and Sun Ra exchanged stories and philosophies, culture and relatives they both encountered on their astrological travels. The moonchild played me back a mixtape she had from 1978, amongst the songs on it were; September by Earth wind and Fire, Zodiac Lady by Roberta Kelly, Toon Poo by Yellow Magic orchestra, Oh Honey by Delegation and Diamond in the back by Curtis Mayfield. The moonchild told me of how she was so thankful for the multiplicity of communication she can have with other worlds in the universe, but often loneliness and melancholy brought attention to her isolation on the moon. her longing to be with other people on earth was sometimes overwhelming.

It seemed fortuitous that meeting this moonchild coincided with critique week, and I was able to use this experience to feed into my studio practice. Different to Sun Ra and other Afrofuturist, my performances have not been about preaching a message, or predictions of a better future. Within science-fiction there lies a lot of futuristic thinking, be it utopia or dystopia, but I make no predictions of the future in my work, not yet anyways, My relation to science-fiction, rather than being of the future, is that it is celestial, astrological. It is science-fiction on a personal level. Softcore, space bodies. No advanced technologies, except the moonchild’s moon I guess. This might fall under Arthur C. Clarke's third law, that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic [7].

In the Moonchild’s words, I found many similarities within my own life. Often feeling distant and disconnected from my Japanese whakapapa, because I don’t know that side of my family. I feel like I am away on a moon, not close enough to have grown up ‘Japanese’ but also feeling very ‘Japanese’ at times unexplainably, genetics huh. And then of course the effects of colonisation and not knowing my Māori culture very well, going through the stages of being ashamed of being Māori, understanding where that shame came from, understanding why many Māori are disconnected from their whakapapa and then being proud to be Māori and having to actively engage and learn about my Māori culture—which I am still doing—because so much of it was pushed into the dark. These themes fed into my final performance.

What is in the dark must be a terrifying beautiful collection of things. When the Nazi’s burned thousands of books, they sent them violently in to the darkness. When Maniapoto tribes were under attack and were going to be defeated, they buried their war atua, Uenuku, safely put him in the dark, and he waited there until it was time to come back into the world of light. All the unnamed emotions and inaudible experiences lie in the dark. Though, this is not the kind of darkness a scientist would talk about, but scientists don’t know anything about the dark anyway. We humans know so much about the light, and what lies in the light, but we know nothing of the dark, only what it is not, yet darkness is the biggest entity in our universe. It is undetectable, but because of its gravity, we know it exists [8].

I have been thinking about dark matter and dark energy, the unknown in so intriguing to me. I thought that where science is failing, spirituality must come in, and all this darkness cannot be perceived by scientific technology and thinking, because it is a matter of the heart. The darkness is the love of the universe, eminence and unpredictable, it is the force that unites. The collective consciousness of love that reaches beyond time and space. I found this idea transmitting through my mind one night, and then did some soul searching on google to see if other people have had this idea as well, which they have, I am not the only one [9]. I also found one hypothesis, a scientific one, that dark matter and energy is the gravity of a parallel universe, where there can be no communication between the universes, except for the gravity leakage [10], and this makes sense, because we know from Interstella, that gravity can defy space and time.

Dark matter as the gravity of alternate universes, and dark matter as the uniting love of the universe are both very interesting ideas and things to think about as my art practice continues………….this is the kind of process I go through when I make art. I have let go, and let gravity take me on my spiritual space cadet voyage.

Cited Works

[1] Le Guin, Ursula K.

Words are my matter, writing about life and books, 2000-2016

Easthampton, MA, Small Beer Press, 2016.

[2] Womack, Ytasha L.

Afrofuturism, the world of Black Sci-Fi and Fantasy Cuture

Chicago, Lawrence Hill Books, 2013.

[3] Le Guin, Ursula K.

Words are my matter, writing about life and books, 2000-2016

Easthampton, MA, Small Beer Press, 2016.

[4] Womack, Ytasha L.

Afrofuturism, the world of Black Sci-Fi and Fantasy Cuture

Chicago, Lawrence Hill Books, 2013.

[5] space is the place

Sun Ra, John Coney

1974.

[6] Aku Raukura, Patea Maori Club, album cover.

Joe Wylie.

[7] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clarke%27s_three_laws

[8] https://futurism.com/images/what-is-dark-matter/

[9] https://www.veteranstoday.com/2014/06/13/dark-matter-and-energy-is-really-love-and-the-urge-to-unite/

[10] http://www.physics-astronomy.com/2015/03/is-gravity-from-parallel-universe.html#.WyNSZlOFPOQ

Bibliography

Coco Solid (Jessica Hensell).

Cokes. Kuini Qontrol, 2018.

http://www.cocosolid.com

DeGrasse-Tyson, Neil & Goldsmith, Donald

Origins, fourteen billion years of cosmic evolution

New York, Norton & company Inc. 2005.

Grace, Patricia.

“Moon story”

Small holes in the silence.

Penguin group, 2006, p. 111-118.

Hau’ofa, Epeli.

“Our Sea of Islands.”

A New Oceania: Rediscovering Our Sea of Islands,

edited by Vijay Naidu, Eric Waddell,

and Epeli Hau’ofa.

School of Social and Economic Development,

The University of the South Pacific,

1994, p. 147-161

Ihimaera, Witi.

Sleeps Standing: Moetu.

Translated by Hemi Kelly,

Penguin Random House New Zealand,

2017.

LeGuin, Ursula K.

The Lathe of Heaven.

St Albans, Panther Books Ltd, 1974

Le Guin, Ursula K.

Words are my matter, writing about life and books, 2000-2016

Easthampton, MA, Small Beer Press, 2016.

Matamua, Rangi.

Matariki: The star of the year.

Auckland, Huia Publishers, 2017

McEvoy, J.P & Zarate, Oscar,

Stephen Hawking, for beginners

Cambridge, Icon Books, 1995.

Meredith, Courtney Sina.

Tail of the Taniwha.

Auckland, Beatnik publishing 2016.

Ngata, Sir Apirana,

P. Te Hurinui editors.

Nga Moteatea.The Polynesian society inc, 1959.

Whaitiri, Reina, and Sullivan, Robert

Puna Wai Korero: An anthology of Maori poetry in English.

Auckland University Press, 2014.

Wilson, Sophie, and Taipua, Dan.

Aotearoa Futurism part one:

Space Maori and Astronesians

Aotearoa Futurism part two:

South Pacific Futurists

www.radionz.co.nz

2015

Womack, Ytasha L.

Afrofuturism, the world of Black Sci-Fi and Fantasy Cuture

Chicago, Lawrence Hill Books, 2013.

https://fafswagvogue.com

NZ on Air,

2018

Stuff about Dark Matter and Dark Energy.

https://futurism.com/images/what-is-dark-matter/

https://futurism.com/neil-degrasse-tyson-universe/

https://www.veteranstoday.com/2014/06/13/dark-matter-and-energy-is-really-love-and-the-urge-to-unite/

http://www.physics-astronomy.com/2015/03/is-gravity-from-parallel-universe.html#.WyNSZlOFPOQ

[riganooona]

Out of focus: Solo, the Jungle Book, and self-imposed limitations

I saw two movies this week which meant I also saw a whole boatload of trailers. These were standard mega-plex movies (aka popcorn movies) so the trailers were largely awful. The first movie was Solo and the preceding trailers included one for the sequel to the Jungle Book which apparently considers what happens when Mowgli leaves the jungle. This is a great idea. Even as a child I thought the ending was even more rose-tinted than most. I had walked into the theater already turning over issues of cultural encounters, cultural mixing, and the infuriatingly entrenched legacies of Western imperialism so I immediately started keeping an eye out for hints of British presence in the world of humans Mowgli found himself forced to navigate. Plus, the original story was written by a Kipling, a man deeply embedded in the British colonial project. White pith hats appeared in brief glimpses towards the end of the trailer but its unclear whether or not they’ll play any significant role. Most of the trailer focuses on Mowgli’s relationship with the animals of the jungle. I was particularly struck by a moment when he asserted that doesn’t belong in the jungle but he doesn’t belong in the world of man either. This resonates as a person of mixed race who  is at once both and neither. Now, I have little faith that this will be a particularly astute treatment of the story but I think I’ll go see it, out of curiosity, out of an ever present hope that new stories will someday be told in intelligent ways, that the media landscape will start to tell stories that I can relate to without equivocation. 

It was with these thoughts in mind that Solo began so I freely admit that I started watching with a racially-minded critical disposition. This did not serve the movie well as it lost my goodwill within the first five minutes and never won it back. The film opens with a brief, energetic action scene that ends with Han standing in a vast underground chamber facing a Fagan-like leader. It becomes clear he’s driven by his desire to rescue a girl whose face is clearly singled-out from the crowd, a bright, sharp visage in a shallow-focus field of “ethnicity.” She, of course, shines like a beacon of whiteness. Honestly, Hollywood, if you’re going to continue to privilege whiteness so obviously at least don’t let us know that you’re aware other people exist. But no, there I am staring at the out-of-focus Asian girl standing just to the right and slightly closer than the, frankly rather uninteresting, heroine W’ira played by Emilia Clarke (apparently those long white tresses do a lot to contribute to her on-screen presence). 

[SPOILERS]

This dynamic continued throughout the film: the awesome bad-ass black woman (Thandie Newton) not only died, she sacrificed herself for her white, male co-workers (and lover). The sassy rebellious female-coded android L3-37 is killed after freeing android and biologically-based slaves (what do you call them? they’re not all human...), an event that is treated as a humorous event and plot device rather than a meaningful act of actualization and political defiance. In fact, everyone is exasperated with her constant articulations of disgust with the current status quo with Beckett (her fellow outlaw played by Woody Harrelson) even going so far as to joke that he would reboot her if it didn’t mean he would lose her amazing navigational knowledge. Well, they end up getting this solution: after her death her navigational knowledge is downloaded into the Millennium Falcon without any of her personal idiosyncrasies. With the exception of Lando Calrissian all the other characters are white. Even the leader of the incipient rebel-alliance, whose armor reads as “ethnic” removes her helmet to reveal Enfys Nest played by 19-year old Erin Kellyman (to be fair, she might be very light-skinned mixed race but she seems to be coded as British). Like L3-37, Nest presents a tantalizing counter-narrative: she points out that working for the criminal organization Crimson Dawn is the same as working for the Empire. She may have a compelling story, but with the entire history of global culture to work with they stuck to a pretty safe zone of Western-European based fantasy iconography. The narrowness of this choice was made even more striking by the setting: a desert planet that resembled photographs of starving Africa - all women and children in tattered huts, gazing out at the white arrivals with wide, tragic eyes. 

The choices made in casting and set design were sadly predictable and easily avoidable and I’m long past simply shrugging my shoulders and accepting it. It’s tiresome, it’s oppressive (both politically but also in the sense that it limits the imaginative potential) and it’s boring. 

Frankly, I’m much more interested in her story and that of L3-37 and Lando Carlrissian has always been a dashing character with a cult following. Isn’t it about time we get to see those stories in the center and in focus? 

(I won’t even get into travesty that is Peppermint in which a rich white women become an “avenging angel” after her family is killed by Latino gangsters who get off - apparently the rest of the movie features her shooting up the “ghetto” and being treated as a hero by its inhabitants. Truly. This is real. Hollywood is not the progressive liberal enclave people make it out to be.)

[goldenindependence-blog]

Homade DIY Pest Control Methods

When the creepies come crawling, it's alluring to reach for a canister of Insect Eliminator as well as spray them away. Yet not so quick. "Individuals have a pavlovian response as well as assume, 'I need poison now!'" claims Miriam Rotkin-Ellman, an elderly scientist in NRDC's Wellness program. Even if all you wish to see is those pests' feet in the air, she says, keep in mind that there are frequently more secure, nonchemical control techniques that will solve your issue. Integrated parasite management, or IPM, focuses on preventing invasions prior to they begin and also making use of chemicals as a last option. It's a low-priced, eco-friendly option that has been confirmed in research studies to reduce pest-removal expenses by one-third-- as well as pest issues by 90 percent. A win-win, simply puts.

The trouble with chemicals For the good of our health-- and that of our earth-- scientists say we should reassess our dependancy on synthetic pesticides. Since they entered into widespread usage after The second world war, these toxic chemicals have actually seeped into 90 percent of our streams as well as rivers. The United States Centers for Disease Control and Prevention states Americans currently have approximately 43 different pesticides in their bloodstreams. These are chemicals that can trigger whatever from nausea, throwing up, as well as headaches to a lot more severe health and wellness problems, such as lung damages, reproductive problems, and cancer cells. Chemicals are particularly hazardous to youngsters, who invest more time closer to the ground where these chemicals are typically used. Youngsters are also less resilient to these hazardous chemicals than grownups, and also their establishing brains are more vulnerable to neurological troubles and finding out impairments triggered by direct exposure. Of all the instances of chemical poisoning in the United States, fifty percent of them are in youngsters under 6. Less suggests much more The most awful part of pesticide overuse and poisoning is that these chemicals typically aren't always that effective. "Pesticides cannot constantly eliminate pest problems since they cannot eliminate them off at every phase of their life cycles," Rotkin-Ellman clarifies. Think about fleas, which take about a month to hatch out from eggs and turn into larvae, then pupae, and after that adults. Many of the chemicals made use of in standard flea treatments target only completely grown fleas. On the other hand, human exposure to these chemicals can activate lightheadedness, throwing up, as well as convulsions and also have lasting impacts on knowing as well as behavior. Just as they're occasionally inadequate, chemicals can additionally backfire as well as made insect infestations even worse. Splash them on an ant colony, as an example, as well as it can spur the ants to separate right into several colonies and also ramp up recreation. "Pests usually grow immune to pesticides," Rotkin-Ellman clarifies. "Spray them as well as they'll simply get better stronger." Seal it up Go into IPM. A single treatment of that kind "was a lot more effective compared to the regular application of pesticides alone," inning accordance with a 2009 Environmental Wellness Perspectives research. The initial line of protection with IPM is avoiding vermin from entering your house in all. Repair tore window and door displays. Seal shower room and also kitchen area cracks with silicone caulk. In the remainder of the residence, plug openings that are bigger than 1/4 inch large. Mice could easily wriggle via such small openings-- yet not if you secure them with concrete, steel woollen, or other steels. Keep in mind: Vermin can eat via plastic, rubber, vinyl, and timber. Maintain it clean Once you're fortified your residence, the next action is to reject parasites the shelter, food, and water they need to thrive. Do you have openings in your floorboards? Replace the floor covering prior to ants or termites could infest the decomposing wood. Heaps of old newspapers accumulated in your garage? Reuse them prior to rats shred them and utilize the scraps to develop their nests. If you're cutting edges with your housecleaning, you have even more to be afraid than gossipy next-door neighbors. Bugs will certainly notice-- as well as move in. So mop up spills, as well as sweep as well as vacuum cleaner regularly. Laundry recipes and also obtain the waste daily, and also maintain trash cans without food deposit. Shop ripe fruit in the fridge, and also never leave leftovers exposed over night. Wash your animal's bed linen as soon as a week to prevent flea invasions. "Additionally repair dripping pipelines and taps," Rotkin-Ellman states. "Places that are on a regular basis damp could give locations for bugs to reproduce." Pick your battles No one wishes to share their lawn with pests as well as vermin. However IPM asks us to think twice prior to killing 'em dead. Because cross-pollinate plants that make up 30 percent of the plants we consume-- and also because their populace has actually plummeted 50 percent over the past 40 years, likely due in part to chemical overuse-- many IPM supporters recommend leaving alone if you find them nesting near your house. Many are not hostile and only sting when taken care of or stepped on. When it comes to other insects, IPM maintains that whether you call the pest control man must rest on the nature of the beast. Silverfish, for instance, might be irritating, however they do not existing real wellness threats. "Insects that do-- which you intend to deal with-- consist of disease-carrying computer mice, cockroaches, fleas, as well as ticks," says Rotkin-Ellman. Go green When you do roll up your sleeves to kill consistent parasites, IPM suggests the traditional techniques as your initial weapons of selection. Reach for the flyswatter. Sweep up individual pests and also nests and cut off their air supply by putting them in secured vacuum bags. Use mousetraps, flytraps, container catches, pheromone catches, and also other harmless lure. Dirt splits and also crevices with boric acid powder, which will slowly poisonous substance crawling insects but is less toxic to human beings compared to pesticides are. Additionally think about scrubbing affected locations with insecticidal or fatty-acid soaps, which are secure for people unless unintentionally ingested. (Though less poisonous, these choices must still be managed meticulously and kept away from children and also animals.). IPM strategies can be tailored to particular pests. Ants nesting in your potted plants, for example? Snuff the plants with water for 20 minutes on the porch, and the ants need to crawl right out. Pest-specific guidelines are readily available from the Northwest Center for Alternatives to Pesticides. Choose the huge weapons. If rodents or pests still continue, chemicals ought to be your last option. IPM supporters using these chemicals sparingly, with spot treatments limited to impacted areas instead of sprayed around the whole home. Usage chemicals with the lowest poisoning-- those labeled IV on a range of I to IV). Stay clear of chemicals that are recognized to be health hazards, neurotoxins, and endocrine disrupters, which can potentially damage human hormones. Never exceed the application quantity suggested on the tag, and take all advised preventative measures, such as wearing handwear covers and masks. As well as felt confident: Once you have actually secured and cleaned your house thoroughly, responsible and restrained pesticide usage need to ultimately end the unwelcome infestation.

[news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog]

10 of the most incredible moments from 'Blue Planet II'

Forgive us David Attenborough, for we are not worthy.

SEE ALSO: The finale of 'Blue Planet II' carried a message that should be heard by all

Last Sunday was the last episode of Blue Planet II, and we mourn the loss of a series so astronomically awesome. So let's take a moment to appreciate the incredible work done by the Blue Planet II team — work which took four years — to bring the wonder of nature closer than we would have thought possible.

1. Fish taking birds out of mid-air

Footage of giant trevally fish leaping out of the water to nom on young arctic terns was the first collective chill Blue Planet II sent down the nation's spines.

Forget everything you think you know. Fish eat birds, and it's hypnotically horrifying in slow-mo.

2. Glowy-glowy rays

Camera technology has come forwards in leaps and bounds since the original Blue Planet aired in 2001, and this allowed Blue Planet II to show us never-before-seen spectacles of nature. One such technological advance was a camera able to film in absolute darkness, which allowed the team to capture a display like no other. 

Mobula rays swimming through bioluminescent plankton cause it to glow, resulting in footage that looks like a scene from Avatar. The camera technology was such that, even though the camera people themselves were in blind darkness, they captured this incredible light display.

3. Killer whale cam

A standout part of Blue Planet II's incredible camerawork was the use of cameras attached to the animals. This technique was able to give the team an insight into life under the sea. Of course, first they had to boop the cameras onto the animals.

Scientists like Eve Jourdain are looking at orca behaviour using suction cameras for an orca-eye-view#BluePlanet2 pic.twitter.com/A25uT6glTl

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 10, 2017

Possibly most impressive was the footage of killer whales pulling off underwater acrobatics, smacking their tails to produce shockwaves that stun unsuspecting herring which are then hoovered up by the orca.

4. The underwater lake of doom

The deep sea is a weird, weird place, and not just because of the strange as hell fishies that live down there. 

In Blue Planet II we were taken down to see a natural feature that beggars belief — an underwater lake. The lake itself is made of brine, which is heavier than regular water and so pools on the ocean floor.

This was actually a re-visiting of a previous Blue Planet classic, but as well as the picture being of a much higher quality this time around, the Blue Planet II team got amazing footage illustrating how deadly these deep sea brine lakes are. Eels which delve into the lake are liable to toxic shock, and millions watched the eerie sight of the fish convulsing and tying itself in literal knots after diving into the brine.

5. The Bobbit worm, a.k.a. Lovecraft's pet nightmare

The sea is a scary place, but no one was emotionally prepared for the Bobbit worm.

Lurking in the seabed, the metre-long Bobbit worm (named after a woman who severed her husband's penis) hides in wait, and if a fishy comes to close it leaps out and seizes the fish in its jaws.

Unacceptable.

6. Close-up footage of the Portuguese Man O'War

The Portuguese Man O'War is a curious thing. It looks like a jellyfish, but in fact it is a collective of organisms living together in a colony.

Blue Planet II gave us an intimate look at how this oddity survives, and when I say intimate I mean intimate. We got an amazingly close-up look at how the Man O'War catches and digests its food, which it snares in its 40-metre-long tentacles before reeling in the unfortunate animal.

This was another example of the superior technology in Blue Planet II coming to bear. Luckily there are no actual bears in the sea though. Can you imagine? In the sea? It doesn't bear thinking about. 

7. The ninja octopus who disguised herself in shells

Blue Planet II is a gold-standard in science programming, and they proved that time and time again, though perhaps never more so than when they managed to capture never-before documented behaviours. Chief among these: the mollusc master of disguise.

While filming an octopus off the coast of South Africa, the team witnesses an act of absolute ninjery.  An octopus was being hunted by a pyjama shark (yes, a pyjama shark) and so the octopus evaded the shark in the most ingenious way. It covered itself in shells, armouring and hiding itself in one slick move.

8. Sally lightfoot crabs running the eel/octopus gauntlet

Attenborough documentaries are a consistent source of unbelievably tense chase sequences, remember the baby iguana and the snakes from Planet Earth II? Well Blue Planet II was no exception.

We followed the gauntlet run by Sally lightfoot crabs at low tide, nimbly leaping from rock to rock trying to escape both moray eels and octopuses — both of which are capable of leaving the water to pursue the heroic crustaceans.

9. Penguins tiptoeing around humungous elephant seals

Penguins are a staple for nature documentaries. You may think you've seen just about every scene involving a penguin, or even a swarm of penguins, that you could ever see.

But have you seen penguins having to tiptoe past the huge mountains of blubber that are elephant seals? Just being in the vicinity of these behemoths puts the birds in significant danger, and so they hobble past, trying desperately not to step on anything remotely crunchy or squeaky.

10. The mother whale grieving the loss of her calf

Blue Planet II had a strong environmental message and brought home the grim reality of pollution in many ways. But undoubtedly the most affecting illustration of this was the footage of a mother pilot whale cradling the corpse of her dead calf. It is explained that it is possible the young whale was poisoned by its mother's own milk, contaminated by industrial chemicals.

Unless the flow of plastics into the world’s oceans is reduced, marine life will be poisoned by them for many centuries to come #BluePlanet2 pic.twitter.com/t1k46FBLpp

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 19, 2017

Blue Planet II was full of absolutely stunning and significant moments. The sea may be a harsh mistress, but that didn't stop the Blue Planet II team from making something ground-breaking. They sacrificed more than a few home comforts in doing so. 

Bonus video: Pelican just wants to join the BBC

Blue Planet II team, we salute you.

WATCH: This sleeping companion is your new best friend

[mfgalaxy]

CARL JAMES - RACE IN PLAY: UNDERSTANDING THE SOCIO-CULTURAL WORLD OF STUDENT ATHLETES, HOW PUBLIC SCHOOLS SHAPE CAREER AND EDUCATION PATHS BASED ON RACE (MF GALAXY 116)

HOW RACISM AND ATHLETICS ARE TACKLING AFRICAN-CANADIAN STUDENTS  

LISTEN/DOWNLOAD

Because race-based privilege, power, and exploitation are facts of planetary life, almost any society can be expected to maintain mythologies about race. That mythology includes the belief that those who belong to the racial power structure are superior to those who are excluded from that racial power system. Some of the excluded are deemed intellectually equal or potentially superior, but lacking in physical prowess and, for lack of a better term, “natural rhythm.” But then there are other people excluded by the racial power system, and inside the racial mythology, they are deemed intellectually and morally backward, but physically superior.

The late Dr. Manning Marable, a Professor of History and Political Science and formerly the Director of the Institute for Research in African-American Studies at Columbia University, discussed in a 1991 column called “Racism and the Black Athlete” how the mythology of race affected athletics. He wrote,

“For generations, White athletes who excelled in any sport were described as “hard-working,” “diligent,” “dedicated.” African-Americans who achieved prominence in sports, by contrast, were known as “natural athletes” who did not have to train rigorously for their successes. Joe DiMaggio and Rocky Marciano were applauded by the media for their work ethic; Sonny Liston and Willie Mays were described as “naturally-gifted athletes.”

“The basic racist assumption beneath these statements was that Blacks were “animals,” not human beings. Anyone knows that a horse can outrun any person. A gorilla is more powerful than the strongest weightlifter. To be Black was to be closer to the physical world of beasts. And of course, Whites who displayed physical prowess were said to have achieved these accomplishments by their mental powers.”

Marable continues:

“The argument is not only racist, it’s illogical in the extreme. Because in reality, success by any group in any avenue of human endeavour is largely determined by the factors of opportunity, availability of resources, and the levels of individual dedication.

“Why do African-American athletes dominate the NBA, but are virtually unrepresented in the NHL or the Professional Golfers Association? Build 5,000 ice skating rinks and public golf courses in the African-American community and create hundreds of training programs and incentives for Black elementary school children. Believe me, within 20 years you’ll have some Whites writing about the “natural ability” of Blacks in golf and ice hockey!

“Blacks excel in athletics because opportunities are still limited in professional and corporate circles for minorities and women. Expand job access and affirmative action enforcement, and fewer Blacks would go into sports.

“Racial discrimination is still rampant in college athletics. A recently released NCAA study indicates that the graduation rate after five years for Black athletes is only 26.6 percent, compared to 52.2 percent for Whites. More significantly, the vast majority of White athletes drop out of college during their early years, while nearly as many Black athletes leave school in their final years as in their first two. This implies that many coaches and academic officials are more concerned with eligibility rather than the goals of education and graduation, when it comes to Black athletes.”

Marable concludes:

“The NCAA study also indicated that when African-American and White athletes have the same SAT scores, Blacks graduate from college at higher rates than Whites. This shows that standardized tests are a poor indicator of future academic performance, and that Blacks with lower SAT scores shouldn’t be arbitrarily denied admission to higher education.”

Today we’re going to hear a Canadian’s take on the issue. Dr. Carl E. James

is a professor in the Faculty of Education and director of the York Centre for Education and Community. He’s cross-appointed in the graduate programs in Sociology and Social Work. He researches how marginalised youth experience school, sport, and society. The Royal Society of Canada inducted James as a Fellow, one of the highest honours a Canadian scholar can achieve in the Arts, Humanities, and Sciences.

He’s the author of the book Race in Play: Understanding the Socio-Cultural World of Student Athletes. The book examines the sociology of sport, youth, racism, and education, and how institutions such as public schools shape the career paths and educational future—or failure—of athletes based on race. In December 2005 James was in Edmonton for a conference on anti-racist education. We spoke at CJSR studios about how racism and athletics are tackling African-Canadian students.

A note: During this conversation recorded in December 2005, I remarked that racism against First Nations Canadians meant that they had no paths to sharing in the bounty of multicultural settler Canada. While I meant that as a critique of the settler colonial state of which I am a part, my statement blindly ignored the many First Nations Canadians who achieve excellence and even national and international influence in innumerable fields. We make far more progress not when we simply condemn what’s unjust, but when we by recognise and replicate success.

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