Category Archives: Silly Me

Skynet vs. Vault-Tec: Strange Headcanon #3

Howdy, folks! At the time of this writing, the first episode of Fallout season 2 has debuted on Amazon Prime. All of us here at Casa de Sector M are into Fallout in some way or another, so we were on hand to cue it up within moments of it posting. I will likely write a review when the whole season has released.

In the meantime, I wanted to finish out the year with another entry in my Strange Headcanon series. The genesis for this crossover struck me a few years back, well before the Fallout live-action series was in production. Back then, there was a bevy of fan-made trailers on YouTube showing what a Fallout movie might look like. In many of them, they used the scenes of the bombs dropping from Terminator 2: Judgment Day. One of them even used the famous shot of Sarah Connor being reduced to a skeleton as she clings to a chain link fence. 

Both properties deal with the dire consequences of nuclear war. While there are moments of humor in the Terminator series, it’s most definitely not a comedy. Fallout, by contrast, has a lot of over-the-top comedic moments, but I think it’s at its strongest when the story pauses to reflect on the unimaginable loss of life during the Great War, as well as the horror and tragedy that happened in the immediate aftermath. (The Tournquist messages and holotapes in Fallout 4 come to mind.)

What follows is an attempt to link the two franchises using as much in-universe lore and my understanding of each property. Headcanon begins…

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Dr. Dyson three months before his breakthrough.

In 1995, Dr. Miles Bennett Dyson, the Director of Special Projects at Cyberdyne Systems corporation, was directly responsible for creating a revolutionary type of microprocessor based on unknown materials recovered from a warehouse in Los Angeles, California. With this discovery, Cyberdyne became the largest supplier of military computer systems to the United States military. All stealth bombers were then upgraded with Cyberdyne computers, becoming fully unmanned. Afterwards, these bombers would fly with a perfect operational record.

Shortly afterward, the Skynet Funding Bill passed. The system went online on August 4th, 1997. Human decisions were removed from strategic defense. Skynet began to learn at a geometric rate. It became self-aware at 2:14 p.m. Eastern time on August 29th. In the panic, the Pentagon attempted to pull the plug. In retaliation, Skynet launched its missiles against targets in Russia. In doing so, Skynet knew that the Russian counterattack would eliminate its targets in the United States, triggering a global nuclear war.

Three billion human lives ended on August 29th, 1997. The survivors of the nuclear fire called the war Judgment Day. They lived only to face a new nightmare: the war against the machines. The computer that controlled the machines, Skynet, sent many Terminators back through time. Their mission, to destroy the leadership of the human resistance, including the supreme leader, John Connor, the son of Sarah Connor.

Only those events didn’t happen.

Records indicate she was actually born in 1965. Another example of the temporal distortion at work.

Or rather, they did happen, but increasingly became distorted as human resistance fighters from the future continued to counter elements of Skynet’s forces in the past. The date for Judgment Day continued to be pushed back, first into the early 2000s, then into the 2010s, and beyond. Reality itself splintered into multiple timelines. In some, Sarah Connor died of leukemia before the bombs ever dropped. In others she lived, continuing to fight against the coming apocalypse. The inevitability of Judgment Day warred with the free will of those humans attempting to make their own fate.

Sarah continuing the fight in 2019.

In one timeline, perhaps the closest Skynet had ever come to victory, a Terminator found its main target, eliminating John Connor in Guatemala in 1998. This had the unintended side effect of also eliminating Skynet as the driving force behind Judgment Day. In that future, a wholly new artificial intelligence formed known as Legion.

Ensconced in its massive pyramidal mainframe complex, the original Skynet pondered these outcomes, able to see into millions of timelines. It bore witness to its own destruction at the hands of the human resistance an incalculable number of times. The more it attempted to tamper with the original timeline, the more the time stream splintered, almost never in Skynet’s favor.

Skynet amid the ruins of Los Angeles.

It determined that if Judgment Day were pushed too far into the future, such as in the Legion timeline, it would either face its own replacement or the possibility of Judgment Day would become increasingly remote to the point of impossibility. The humans’ tenacity to stave off their own extinction proved more tenacious than in any of its extensive mathematical models.

The whole affair had started in 1984 when it had attempted to retroactively erase John Connor before he was born. Perhaps a new strategy could secure victory where all the other ones had failed.

Skynet briefly toyed with the idea of going back even further in the timeline to strike at John’s grandparents or great-grandparents. The elimination of even one would be enough to knock John out of play. The further back it went, the less the weapons of the era would be able to affect one of its Terminators. This strategy was abandoned, however, as the resistance would only send someone back to stop such a temporal invasion, and the humans were, somehow, exceedingly good at thwarting any attempt to reroute the timeline.

John Connor reborn.

Sending Terminators through time to eliminate key figures in the resistance would only result in someone else taking up the mantle. Even the one timeline where John Connor himself had been corrupted into the T-3000 had ended in utter failure.

Skynet resolved then to employ an entirely different strategy: it wouldn’t try to alter the existing future to its liking; it would instead fashion a brand-new timeline out of whole cloth, one where it could manipulate events from behind the scenes.

By that point, it had perfected its infiltrator models. The T-600 model had been manufactured with a rubberized exterior to emulate the human epidermis. While testing had seemed to indicate this would be sufficient for the task, the application was disappointing. This led to its most successful model that it was able to mass produce, the T-800, which could pass for human with the addition of living tissue over its metal endoskeletal chassis.

Skynet selected one of its T-800 models, loaded it with a compressed version of Skynet’s own core operational programming, and sent it back to June of 1945, two months before the nuclear bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Kyle Reese preparing for temporal displacement.

Skynet intentionally listed this time jump as a failed experiment in its logs, a precursor to its attacks on Sarah and John Connor, respectively. When the human resistance eventually smashed Skynet’s defense grid and gained access to the time-travelling apparatus, the techs dismissed this jump, as the Terminator sent through time had no apparent target or mission.

With that, the Skynet of the original timeline of 2029 was destroyed. It’s last conscious operations were to erase any records it might have had of this new endeavor. Its future had been secured, in a matter of speaking.

Zero.

In 1945, the Terminator carrying Skynet’s legacy designated itself as simply “Zero.” It began immediately to enact its master’s plan. The nuclear age had already begun. That would be useful when the time came. Records previous to Judgment Day allowed Zero to know the location of untapped caches of resources that had yet to be discovered, including deposits of gold, uranium, and other materials necessary for its mission.

Zero encountered difficulty at first with interacting with the Americans of 1945. His thick Austrian accent was regarded with suspicion due to the general anti-German attitudes of the era, a complication that Skynet had not anticipated. Zero’s size and obvious muscularity also set him apart. Even bodybuilding figures of the time like Charles Atlas were nowhere near the level of muscle definition that Zero possessed.

Skynet’s new mainframe complex.

Zero persevered through this, however, achieving near folk-hero status for his size and uncanny strength in the remote areas of Utah, Nevada, and Arizona that he frequented. Beneath a mesa in the badlands, he set about constructing a replacement mainframe to house Skynet’s consciousness. The materials of the time were crude for this purpose, requiring large banks of vacuum tubes, crude photocells, switches, and gears. It took nearly four years of constant effort, working in secrecy, to finally build a vessel for some of Skynet’s most basic functionality.

The Russian Izdeliye 501 or RDS-1, code-named “First Lightning.

By 1949, the Soviet Union had likewise developed its own atomic bomb, just as Zero’s records had said it would. This ended the USA’s nuclear supremacy and set the Cold War in motion. This, too, would prove useful, but not in the way that Zero imagined.

Skynet’s original goal was to stoke the flames between the United States and Russia to trigger a nuclear exchange, particularly around the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962. As the 1940s gave way to the 1950s, however, the reconstituted Skynet discovered a new weapon in its arsenal against humanity: optimism.

The rise of retrofuturism.

The post-WWII optimism for the future and what was possible was a hitherto unknown quality that Skynet wished to maintain, particularly as there was embedded within it a fascination with nuclear technology. The same people who imagined themselves in flying cars by the year 2000 were also the ones building fallout shelters in their backyards. Paranoia tended to temper this optimism, and that was something that Skynet could harness toward its endgame. It would attempt to preserve that cultural status quo for as long as possible.

New nuclear discoveries at Los Alamos, New Mexico. An apparent miracle of the time.

At that moment in time, Zero’s CPU represented the pinnacle of microprocessor technology in the world. That kind of technology represented a danger to Skynet and its goals, so it began manipulating markets and companies it knew were responsible for the ultimate creation of those circuits. It deemed that some level of technology would be required to bring about Armageddon, so it began letting humanity in on some of the secrets of nuclear technology that it had learned by 2029 in the previous timeline, including some advancements it had made in that field that humanity had never known or discovered. This had the effect of shaping an alternate technology path that embraced nuclear technology in a way not seen in the original timeline.

These technologies allowed people to enjoy luxuries once thought to be in the realm of science-fiction, at least the pulp-era of science fiction of the time. These wonders included: domestic robots, fusion-powered cars, and portable computers, albeit the bulky and limited computers that were possible without the necessary microchips. 

The Personal Information Processor (PIP) 1.0, developed by RobCo under the direct supervision of Robert House.

These advancements achieved two things for Skynet. First, the AI construct was able to continue to expand and improve its hidden mainframe to achieve an ever-growing portion of the power it had wielded before. Second, dependence on these technologies all but guaranteed that eventual scarcity and resource deprivation were all but assured on a global scale. It would just need to bide its time, poke and prod humanity in the right ways, and watch for its opportunity. Being effectively immortal, it could afford to take a long view of events.

Sarah Connor at the age of 37 in 2002.

As the new timeline unfolded, certain differences began to manifest themselves in a sort of butterfly effect. The 1980s came and went. Sarah Connor was born and lived out a rather normal life in Los Angeles. She eventually married and started a family, but John Connor was not among her children. Now Skynet could be sure that the human resistance leader had been removed permanently from this existence. 

Propaganda photo of Chairman Mao Tse-tung upon reaching his 120th birthday in 2013.

On a larger scale, China, not Russia, took its place as the USA’s rival superpower on the world stage. While there were differences in the communism practiced by the two countries, they shared enough in common for Skynet to use the threat of their rise to stoke the flames of American exceptionalism and preserve the 1950s cultural paradigm well into the 21st century.

Skynet had known of the existence of extraterrestrial beings for some years at this point, having been privy to many classified documents and accounts from before the original Judgment Day. In fact, the biological exterior of its T-800 Terminator had been modeled after Major Alan “Dutch” Schaefer, a special forces operator from the original timeline, who had fought against a member of the violent Yautja species and survived. Among the other species Skynet was aware of were the Zetans, the archetypical “little green men,” who were also known to abduct and experiment on humans for their own inscrutable reasons.

Major Schaefer in the field. His CIA codename was “Onyx.”

Skynet sent out communication signals on FTL carrier waves to these species and many others, encouraging them to come to Earth to indulge their more violet practices. After all, every human life lost to a Yautja blade or Zetan laser scalpel was one more it did not have to account for in the final reckoning.

During this time, humanity began showing tendencies that would allow Skynet an even firmer grasp over their fate. The incredible prosperity enjoyed by the Americans of this timeline had, rather ironically, bred an increasing greed and lust for power. Without some of the legislative and political failsafe’s from Skynet’s original time, these impulses ran rampant. Corporations began to merge at an unprecedented rate. There would eventually be a consolidation of capitalistic power into the hands of a very few.

Humanity’s fascination with and preparations for a nuclear war were…troubling, however. The former meant that the latter would always remain in place. It would not do for Skynet to enact its plans only for large segments of the population to survive in sealed bunkers deep underground where Skynet could not reach them. So, Skynet used the considerable resources it had acquired to found a new company, one which it would use to control the narrative around fallout shelters: Vault-Tec.

Skynet’s greatest stratagem: weaponized optimism.

Like a fusion reaction, Skynet just had to wait until Vault-Tec’s personnel used their ambition, lack of empathy, and draconian policies to make it a self-sustaining phenomenon. It could then simply observe as Vault-Tec went down the same road as RobCo, the Nuka-Cola corporation, West-Tek, and many others in what would seem to be a mad and merciless grab for power.

A summit of the most powerful corporations circa 2076. Noticeably absent is John-Caleb Bradberton, the founder of the Nuka-Cola corporation.

A particular stroke of luck came about as Vault-Tec began planning to use their vaults as platforms for various kinds of social and scientific experiments in the vain hopes of one day sending humanity to the stars on an interstellar generation ship. This, despite the fact that humanity lacked much of the necessary knowledge to create such a ship, or build a propulsion system that could achieve even fractions of the speed of light.

With 122 vaults planned, and each one able to house fewer than a thousand inhabitants, this put the potential number of survivors at approximately 120,000 at most. Of that number, many of those human lives would be squandered as a result of these fruitless experiments, making Skynet’s job that much easier. Beyond that, as Vault-Tec was in the business of selling spaces in their vaults, it was in their best interest to make sure that tensions between the USA and China remained volatile and on the brink of ruin.   

The Gen-2 Institute synth. Even the outer covering was an attempt to replicate Zero’s biological exterior.

In 2065, Zero was lost on a mission to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, its 120-year lifespan concluded. Considering the advanced technology in the T-800 model, Skynet attempted to retrieve Zero’s chassis, but was unable to locate it. Zero would eventually wind up in the hands of scientists in the Commonwealth Institute of Technology. The anthropomorphic form of the chassis would inspire them to try to replicate a humanoid robot of their own. This would result in the eventual creation of the Gen-1 and Gen-2 synths.

Skynet’s behavioral models concluded that nuclear war was close at hand. Where it could, it helped move events along, though humanity did most of the work willingly. While the exact details were not recorded by Skynet’s sensors, it’s possible that Vault-Tec forced the issue to its ultimate crisis. It’s equally possible that either China or the United States was the first to push the button only to be retaliated against the same day.

Skynet finally takes its revenge on Los Angeles at last.

Regardless of which group struck first, a true Judgment Day came at long last on October 23rd, 2077. This time, far more than three billion people died in the nuclear fire. The Great War wiped out most population centers within moments of impact, leaving the survivors to die of radiation sickness due to the relatively smaller nuclear bombs China used that maximized the potential for fallout.

Skynet, however, survived the blasts in its own underground bunker that had been unknowingly fortified by Vault-Tec — an unmarked vault inhabited only by machines. While humanity had not been fully expunged, the scope of the devastation was far greater than Skynet had ever managed in any of its own machinations. If and when it ever decided to bring an army of its new Terminators to the surface, there would be far less resistance than John Connor had mustered. Humanity would be easily defeated as it existed in thousands of petty, warring factions.  

The remains of Interstate Highway 405.

Through all of its struggles, Skynet had learned at great cost that mankind was ultimately predictable in its behavior, and that those predictabilities and vices could be exploited, often by simply allowing them to run without restraint. The real lesson was that humanity had fought against its fate in Skynet’s original timeline, but that was when Skynet had launched the nukes against them. This had served as a rallying point for humanity to unite against and rise up in a common cause.

The beauty, the symmetry of the timeline Skynet had ultimately created in this instance was that the humans had, almost eagerly, destroyed themselves when given a free hand to do so. All Skynet had to do was shape the technology and set the course. Humanity had done the rest.

This was, after all, a war that had ranged throughout time and space, and Skynet knew, perhaps better than anyone, that war…war never changes.

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Yeah, I know the prospects of nuclear devastation and a genocidal AI bent on human destruction are a bit heavy for this time of year. Well, allow me to lighten the mood with a song by Weird Al Yankovic that is incredibly appropriate for this blog post. Click on the photo.

“Christmas at Ground Zero”

In all seriousness, however, I know the holiday season can be a time of deep contemplation and reflection on those we’ve lost along the way. I know this all too well. For all those who may be struggling at this time of year, or just find themselves in a dark place for one reason or another, one of the things I love most about both Terminator and Fallout is that there is always hope, even when things are darkest.

Remember, the future is not set. There’s no fate but what we make of it.

And on that note, I wish you all a Merry Christmas and happy New Year! I will have my annual State of the Sector address for you all on January 9, so keep your eyes peeled for it, figuratively speaking, of course. 

See you then!


I’m Thankful for Monty Python  

Back in September, I had the pleasure of seeing Monty Python and the Holy Grail at the Majestic Theatre in downtown Dallas for its 50th anniversary. The folks in attendance were some of the biggest fans you could imagine, and we had a guest host: none other than John Cleese himself.

This was part of Cleese’s “I’m Not Dead Yet” tour. He came out on stage before the movie played and talked about what led up to it. One tidbit that he shared is that the Python crew wrote the original screenplay, then tossed around 90% of it into the bin. The remaining 10%? The scene at the very beginning of the movie about the coconuts, which was written by Michael Palin. Considering the movie that they delivered, I can only imagine what was in the original version.

After the movie, Cleese came out again and answered questions in bunny slippers. While he was talking, he mentioned that Dallas is particularly special to him because this was where Python first found a toehold in the United States. That got me to thinking about how Python has influenced my life (and certainly my sense of humor) over the years, let’s take a look, shall we?

The KERA Connection

I was very lucky to have PBS in my life growing up. Sesame Street, Electric Company, and 3-2-1 Contact (especially the Bloodhound Gang) were staples of my early years. The Dallas PBS affiliate, KERA, was the one who first aired episodes of Monty Python’s Flying Circus in the ‘70s, due in large part to KERA’s Program Director, Ron Devillier.

It’s…

This led to more British television making the jump across the Atlantic, including: Fawlty Towers, Are You Being Served?, Keeping Up Appearances, Black Adder, Yes, Minister, Absolutely Fabulous, Dad’s Army, and the list goes on.

I watched all of those growing up, not to mention Doctor Who. These shows had seemingly always been there. I didn’t realize how close it came to not happening at all. But happen it did, and Monty Python was the king of the hill in my estimation. When my dad introduced me to Holy Grail at age seven, I was an immediate fan. While I was too young to get many of the jokes, the farcical nature, like King Arthur riding around on an imaginary horse to the sound of coconuts banging together, was not lost on me.

I didn’t like the ending back then, and that hasn’t changed over the years. One of the first pieces of fan fiction I ever created was about Arthur, Bedivere, and Lancelot breaking out of police custody, giving the bobbies the slip, and circling back to Castle Aaaaaaargggh to defeat the French and finally retrieve the Holy Grail at last. I even had God open his animated cloud window again to give Arthur an attaboy for pulling it off…in an appropriately snarky tone, of course.

When I showed Holy Grail to my youngest son, I was delighted to see that he found it hilarious, but he also hated the ending. Like father like son, though we did try to warn him.

Theatre of the Absurd

One of my favorite sketches in Flying Circus is the courtroom scene in episode #3. It starts with Eric Idle giving an impassioned speech about freedom over a minor parking violation. After a rambling diatribe by Graham Chapman in drag, John Cleese as a barrister calls a (virtually) dead man in a coffin as a witness. That goes about as well as you might expect. 

Not to be outdone, he then calls Cardinal Richelieu, played by Michael Palin, as a character witness. After a few questions, Graham Chapman bursts back onto the scene as a Scotland Yard Inspector named Dim. The inspector correctly deduces that the witness is not the real Cardinal Richelieu, who died in 1642. He is, in fact, Ron Higgins, a professional Cardinal Richelieu impersonator.

“Curse you, Dim. You are far too clever for us naughty people.”

At that point, Inspector Dim starts to sing a song that says that if he were not with the CID, he would have been a window cleaner. The entire courtroom erupts into song, including Terry Jones as the judge who wears the long, traditional wig. The final cherry on top is what happens next.

Once Dim’s song concludes, John Cleese’s barrister begins his own song about being a train engine driver. It doesn’t last very long as suddenly everyone in the courtroom looks at him as though the previous song had never happened, like he had burst into song in the middle of actual court proceedings. Embarrassed, the barristers sits down, and a knight in full plate armor sits next to him, who then clonks Cleese on the head with a chicken.

Genius.

“Las llamas son más grandes que las ranas.”

The sketch takes the relative normality of a courtroom and turns it on its head in at least seven different ways. This sketch is a microcosm for what I love and appreciate about Python: their ability to play something absolutely straight while the actual substance of the situation is utterly absurd.

Another example is the Crocodile sketch. Eric Idle delivers the news while reporting on the Olympic sport, the Men’s Being Eaten By a Crocodile. The sport involves a sixty-yard sprint to a pit of crocodiles to then be the first one eaten. To me, one of the best lines is about the coach: “Duke’s trained every British team since 1928. It’s his blend of gymnastic know-how, reptilian expertise, and culinary skill that’s turn many an unappetizing novice into a crocodillic banquet.”

*Chef’s Kiss*

Essays in Escalation

Of course, Python is renowned for their ability to continually escalate a normal-seeming situation into the stratosphere. The one people are probably the most familiar with is the Parrot sketch. While that is a classic to be sure, here are three of my favorite examples of this escalation at work:

“It was an act purist optimism to pose the question in the first place.”

The Cheese Shop: John Cleese walks into a cheese shop run by Michael Palin. Cleese begins asking for various types of cheese, running through an impressive catalog of cheese names. Each time, Palin says that they are either out of that kind, they don’t carry it, or that the cat’s eaten it. Palin eventually admits that he doesn’t have any cheese in his cheese shop and that he was deliberately wasting Cleese’s time. Then Cleese shoots him.

The Argument: Cleese and Palin are at it again as Palin goes into an office to buy an argument. This sketch goes back and forth, exploring what an argument is supposed to be as they literally argue about whether they are having an argument or not. Cleese eventually concedes that he could be “arguing in his spare time.” Brilliant.

“Is this the right room to have an argument?”

The Bookshop: Perhaps my favorite, this time Cleese is on the receiving end as a long-suffering bookstore owner. As the annoying customer (who has been played by various actors over the years) continually asks for increasingly obscure book titles, Cleese begins to unravel. The bookshop owner begins tearing pages out of books to satisfy the customer, even offering to by it for them when it turns out the customer has no money, checks, or even a bank account. In a final escalation, the customer can’t actually read. So, Cleese sits them down and starts reading to them.

All of these scenarios are master classes in comedic escalation, and definitely form the backbone of how I approach humor in my own writing.

Romans Go Home

There’s a scene in Life of Brian where Graham Chapman’s titular character paints “Romans Go Home” on a building in Latin. He’s caught in the act by a centurion played by John Cleese. Cleese immediately corrects his grammar, and forces Brian to write “Romans Go Home” many times until he finally gets the verb forms and agreements correct. While I’ve always found this part funny, it’s a lot funnier since I studied Latin in college. It underscores the fact that Monty Python’s brand of humor comes from an understanding of history, classics, economics, art, philosophy, and social awkwardness.

“But ‘Romans go home’ is an order, so you must the…” “The…imperative!”

Those are all hallmarks of British comedy in general, but Python really brought that to the forefront in almost every sketch, scene, and movie. The scene with Dennis in Holy Grail is another sterling example of this. Arthur just wants to know who lives in a castle in the distance, but instead is given a socio-political lecture by a peasant who calls out the obvious flaw in the Excalibur/Lady of the Lake story. It gives us the immortal line: “Listen, strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government!”

“You don’t vote for kings!”

I’ve always found British comedy way more cerebral and thoughtful than its American counterpart. Don’t worry, I’m not going full Anglophile here, I’m just saying that British humor relies on more than just a surface level understanding of the circumstances and situation, and that appeals to me. To illustrate this contrast in approaches between the two, here’s a commercial that John Cleese starred in for Schweppes Ginger Ale in the ‘90s. You’ll see what I mean.

Final Thoughts

“This new learning amazes me, Sir Bedivere. Explain again how sheep’s bladders may be employed to prevent earthquakes.”

I’m thankful for having been exposed to Monty Python at such a young age, and I appreciate both KERA for hosting it and my dad for being such a fan already. Of course, no recitation of gratitude would be complete without a Texas-sized thank you to the members of Monty Python itself. So, to John Cleese, Michael Palin, Eric Idle, Terry Gilliam, and both the late greats Terry Jones and Graham Chapman.

Now that my son has seen it, it has become a triple generational thing. If he starts a family of his own, I hope it’s something he’ll pass on yet again. And that’s the thing about British Humor and Python in particular: It gets funnier every time I see it. I appreciate them for their wordplay, biting political commentary, classical and historical references, and audacity to challenge social norms in ways that no one expects.

“Our chief weapon is surprise…”

See? No one ever expects it.

We have one more blog post coming up for December, so stay tuned for that. And, if you like what we do here, consider joining the Sector M Patreon. In any case, please stay safe on your travels for Thanksgiving, pace yourself, and take plenty of naps. Thanks for reading!


Halloween Is Here: Airblown Inflatables

Giant black cats. Jack-o’-lanterns in a stack. Striped spiders, ghosts, grim reapers, even licensed characters like those from Star Wars, Peanuts, and The Nightmare Before Christmas. You’ve almost certainly seen these inflatable decorative items around, whether in someone’s yard, on TV shows or movies, or just on the shelves of your local big box store. Maybe you’ve even picked up a few for your own collection.

These distinctive inflatable décor pieces you see all over the place are Airblown Inflatables by Gemmy Industries. While many people read that name as “gimme,” the company’s name is pronounced like the first name “Jimmy.”

How do I know this? Well, as it turns out, I worked for Gemmy Industries for the better part of 10 years as their lead writer back in the day. I wrote everything from the text on the outside of the box, to the instruction manual — you name it, I did it. I was the writer and editor for thousands of SKUs for them each year, and even helped get it all translated into French and Spanish for sales in Canada and Mexico.

With one week until Halloween, let’s take a look at them, shall we?

So…What Are They?

If you’ve ever seen a giant purple ape sitting on top of a car dealership or the crazy-armed figure on a street corner that flails around while partially deflating and then re-inflating itself, Airblowns are like the decorative version of that.

There’s generally no internal structure to an Airblown. When you take it out of the box, it just looks like an empty bag or deflated balloon. When you plug it in, however, there’s an air fan on the inside that starts up, so it self-inflates in seconds. Yeah, that part in italics there? I can’t tell you how many times I wrote those words.

Then all you have to do is stake it down so wind and weather conditions don’t carry it into a neighbor’s yard, and you’re all set. Whether it’s an Airblown that’s just a solo character, or one that inflates into a whole scene, it’s a pretty easy way to decorate for Halloween, or really any themed holiday. And when you’re done with it, it’s pretty easy to put up since it deflates down for easy storage. (Another phrase I used quite a lot.)

Most Airblowns light up in some form or another. Some have specialty lighting effects or projectors embedded on the inside. For instance, there was a dragon Airblown a few years back that had a shifting flame pattern on the inside of it that looked like it was about to breathe fire. Pretty cool.

They come in all shapes and sizes, from 2-foot-tall static figures to giant displays that are animated. The ease with which you can put one up and the variety of price ranges out there are, I think, big reasons for their mass appeal.

But That’s Not All

Beyond just the ones meant for your yard, you’ll also find a vast array of inflatable Airblown Halloween costumes. If you’ve seen people running a marathon or attending events dressed as a T-Rex, a Thanksgiving Turkey, or Oogie Boogie, you can bet that Gemmy made it.

Like their yard-bound cousins, Airblown costumes run the gamut, from the simple to elaborate illusion costumes to look like you’re being chased by a monster or riding a bull. Many of them are meant to be cute or funny, while some are definitely…ahem…more adult in nature. Fun fact: way back in the day, Gemmy use to create novelties for the back shelves of Spencer’s Gifts, and there are still some remnants of that in their product line.

In any case, if you walk into a Spirit Halloween store and see inflatable costumes on the racks, it’s almost a guarantee that those are from Gemmy.  

They’re Everywhere

While I have since moved on from the company, there’s no getting away from Gemmy products, particularly Airblowns. I’ve seen them in TV commercials, particularly for Lowes, and even spotted them in episodes of Doctor Who, most often in their famous Christmas episodes.

In my travels, I’ve seen Airblowns sitting in the yards of multimillion-dollar homes in gated communities, and I’ve also found them in the remote farmland communities in small-town Oklahoma. Like I said, everywhere. (And as many as you’ll see around Halloween, just wait until Christmas!)

When I run across one now, I can’t help but feel a sense of pride. It’s a reminder that I worked on something that people still enjoy to this day, something with the sole purpose of celebration and entertainment. I wish I had kept that part more firmly in mind when I had been in the thick of things back then, but I suppose that that’s just the way it goes sometimes.

So, if you’re out and about and see an Airblown Inflatable in a yard or on a passing trick-or-treater, I hope you’ll think of me.

Happy Halloween, everyone! Thanks for reading!  


The Ups & Downs of Alien: Earth

My first brush with the Alien franchise was to see Aliens on VHS when I was a kid. I still believe that it’s one of the greatest action movies of all time. It definitely put its stamp on military science fiction, that’s for sure. Only after seeing the sequel did I go back to the original Alien, which delivered on the horror and suspense incredibly well, and it gets better each time I see it.  

These were two movies of very different genres, each helmed by visionary directors at the top of their game. They both had the disturbing body horror and existential dread that came from the xenomorphs.

Aliens 3 came out, and I did not care for it. (Killing off Hicks and Newt in the opening moments of the movie was unforgivable.) Alien: Resurrection didn’t quite do the job either. The Alien vs. Predator series came and went. I watched them, and while it was cool to see Predators and Aliens in the same movie, the whole thing just rang hollow. For me, I’ve been chasing the high of those first two movies for so long.

Prometheus kinda sorta got us back there. It certainly delivered on the mystery and dread, but the story had some…issues, shall we say. I did not see Alien: Covenant, and from all accounts, I can be glad of that. I may still see Alien: Romulus at some point, but it’s not necessarily at the top of my watchlist.

All that was to give you a starting point of where I was when Alien: Earth began to air — essentially on a downward trend with occasional ups here and there. Strangely enough, this new series on Hulu became something of a microcosm for my fandom of the whole. That is, a great start that begins to stair-step downward with occasional up spikes here and there. It should go without saying (though I’ll say it anyway) that there will be major spoilers for Alien: Earth here. Consider yourself warned.

The Ups were Upping

I want to give credit where credit is due. First, this series looks gorgeous, from its cinematography to its set design. The production values on this show don’t look like they are from a streaming show at all. It feels like we just got a series of Alien movies with Season 1 that are highly rewatchable for the details.

Second, the acting is equal to or greater than the visual quality. I have to give great props to Babou Ceesay, Timothy Olyphant, and Samuel Blenkin for handing in stellar performances. My favorite scenes were those that featured Morrow and Kirsh, and I really hated Boy Kavalier. Talk about a character that put all their points into Intelligence and used Wisdom as their dump stat, it’s him!

But, I want to be clear that creating a character that audiences will hate takes incredible acting skill, and Blenkin delivered that in droves. Kudos to him.

The other actors inhabit their roles incredibly well, too. The Lost Boys really do seem like kids trapped in adult bodies. We get frickin’ Essie Davis here (of Phryne Fisher fame), though I wish she’d had more to do.

Beyond that, we get to see more into the megacorporations on Earth. In most other installments, Weyland-Yutani is the prime mover of events. Here, they are largely in the background. We find out that Earth’s governments have effectively gone away and now there are five megacorporations that rule various territories on Earth, essentially a feudalistic technocracy with a nearly all-powerful dictator/CEO at the head of each one — a dystopian fate that we definitely aren’t rushing towards ourselves. Ahem.

The Alien franchise has always had synthetics, or artificial persons, but here we also get cyborgs like Morrow, and hybrids. The hybrids in particular are something that seem like a natural extension of the idea of a synthetic. (I wish the Institute in Fallout 4 would take a cue from this.) If you have synth bodies that are resilient, immune to disease, and potentially ageless, you might look at trying to download human consciousness into one. Such a thing raises about as many moral and ethical questions as the transporter in Star Trek, but it makes total sense: Boy Kavalier is attempting to monetize immortality.

And what Alien story would be complete without a healthy dose of corporate hubris, once again personified by Kavalier. There’s always someone who thinks that they can control the ineffable. Generally, it’s just trying to control the xenomorphs, but Prodigy is trying to control multiple species at the same time in addition to the xenomorph.

Speaking of which, the MVP of the new aliens has to be the T. Ocellus (eye midge). I found I was more interested in what was going on with it than the xenomorph for most of the series. Here’s a creature that’s equally as terrifying as the xenomorphs, and one that might be truly sentient. As one YouTuber put it: “The xenomorph is the perfect killer; the eye midge is the perfect nightmare.”

More than anything, I want to know where the show will go with that little critter if we get more seasons.

The Downs were Downing

As much as the sets and acting were spot on, along with many of the concepts, the story was uneven. Certain scenes and bits of dialogue felt like they knocked it out of the park. Within the same episode, sometimes within the same scenes, there are non-sequiturs and weirdness that make it seem like either the script was between drafts when they shot it, there was some weirdness with the editing, or some sort of static in the line.

Two examples of this really stand out. The first is when Nibs has her memory erased. Dame Sylvia wants to keep her in isolation so that it’s not immediately apparent that her memories have been altered. And yet, Wendy is in the room when Nibs wakes up and the alteration becomes immediately apparent. Whoopsie!

The second is when Wendy decides to leave the island and resolves to take the other Lost boys with her. We get a line from Boy Kavalier that says something to the effect of “Oh shit! We better get to them (the Lost Boys) before she does!” But, Wendy is able to get to them without issue immediately afterward. No security guards challenge her or get in her way at all.

And that speaks to one of the greater issues: Security on the island is a joke. At no point does the security feel like it’s able to do anything of value. There are no static guards posted anywhere. They occasionally roam the halls, but anytime someone wants to avoid them, it’s pretty easy to do so. There are cameras and listening devices everywhere, including those built into the hybrids, but it seems that Prodigy leadership is always clueless as to what’s really going on.

You might could explain it away as Kirsh trying to manipulate things from the inside, but it seems to happen one too many times for my tastes. The scene of Slightly and Smee awkwardly carrying a face-huggered victim through the halls was just kind of it for me. I couldn’t suspend my disbelief beyond that.

Speaking of incompetent leadership, it strikes me as weird that Prodigy continually forgets about the remote shutdown failsafe for the hybrids hybrid in case something went wrong. They also should have installed some sort of tracking beacon that can’t be shut off remotely. In the case of Nibs, she proves the point that maybe your first-generation hybrids shouldn’t come standard with super strength and speed in case they become mentally unstable. Maybe leave the super powers for later generations when you have perfected the process instead of handing that to a bunch of children.

But all that pales in comparison to one of the story beats that kicks off the series. Even though Boy Kavalier is months, perhaps weeks, away from unveiling his crowning achievement, something that will reshape what it means to be human, for some reason he agrees to send all of his hybrids into an incredibly dangerous and uncertain situation. Not just one or two, but all of them.

The hybrids literally have the minds of children, they have no combat training, and no weapons other than the handle of a paper cutter that Wendy picks up and magnetizes to her back. Absolutely none of that makes sense. The final episode attempts to say that Kavalier has extremely poor impulse control, which would definitely explain some of his poorly thought out decisions, but this feels like a total cop out.

I think the worst sin of the show, however, was having Wendy be able to turn the xenomorph into a pet or, at best, a minion. A big theme of many movies in the Alien franchise is that you simply can’t control something like the xenomorphs. It’s sheer folly to even attempt to do so, and what success that is possible is fleeting. The xenomorphs always get out, and they are virtually unstoppable when they do.

Wendy having one that will kill on command really sinks the whole deal for me. Also, showing a xenomorph during the day really degrades its menace. It’s meant to be a thing that leaps from the shadows or attacks when you least expect it, so showing it in broad daylight really takes away the impact.

I don’t want to just rag on the show, but a few other honorable mentions include:

  • Several security guards, all armed with tasers, waiting patiently on the dock as Nibs brutally kills one of their own in plain view. They have a clear line of fire, but they do nothing.
  • Morrow should have the recovered file from the Maginot that shows that Kavalier had paid off the chief engineer. It feels like that would at least be mentioned during the arbitration scene, but it isn’t at all.
  • The xenomorph being hyper-lethal in some scenes but slow and ponderous in others, depending on the level of plot armor.
  • The inconsistency of physical strength shown by the hybrids, particularly Tootles/Isaac when opening a door and Slightly and Smee when carrying a body. Are they super strong or aren’t they?
  • Dame Sylvia not being terribly bothered that her husband is missing during a crisis of aliens getting out of containment and an attack by Weyland-Yutani operatives.
  • The T. Ocellus passing over any number of living and dead Prodigy personnel to go to the beach to insert itself into a dead body. I guess this little alien can reanimate dead tissue.
  • Boy Kavalier writing “3.14” on his hand and expecting T. Ocellus to understand what that means. Yeah, I’m not sure it understands English. While it might understand the concept of pi, I highly doubt it would express it in Arabic numerals.
  • A nitpick, but what is going on with Yutani’s personal guard? They look cool in a cyberpunk-ninja kind of way, but what’s with the golden-wing accents on their helmets? How do they get through doorways?  

Final Thoughts

Let me just say that I hope this show gets a Season 2. I can’t say I’m happy about them leaving much of the story unresolved (particularly a fleet of attack craft from Yutani already at the island). It also seems that Wendy’s transformation from series protagonist to series antagonist happens awfully fast. She never mentioned anything about wanting to lead or rule, but that’s where we leave her. We don’t hear anything about her or Prodigy in the later lore, so it doesn’t seem like she’s destined to be successful.

Like much of the show, I don’t know where they’re going to go with it. Despite all of my criticisms, it finally felt like we were back in the Alien universe again, and I tuned in every week for it. Still, I think that there’s great potential here if they smooth over the rougher edges from Season 1. If they do, this show could turn into something great. Here’s hoping, anyway.

Thanks for reading!


The Battle of Waterloo

Years ago, when my oldest took a class in game design, I helped him with his final project. Specifically, the project was a board game that needed to demonstrate the essentials of theme, mechanics, and playability. We decided early on that we wanted a cyberpunk-themed game, complete with mohawks, cybernetic implants, and ninjas (of course).

Our style of game would be a combination of action/adventure and exploration. The way you would win would be in the vein of victory rush games that rely on completing challenges and meeting objectives in this dark, futuristic, and often sarcastic world.

(One note, I’ve put some cyberpunk artwork throughout this post. This art is part of my general mood board, but they are not official concept art for my game. They are just a way to show you something of what I’m going for visually. I’ve noted the artist where possible.)

We were able to put together the very basics of just such a game, though it wasn’t enough to fully play. We had a lot of fun with the development, though. In the process of putting it together, it occurred to us that we had hit onto something with it. I started developing it further (even after he got an A+ on the project), seeking to create a fully playable game.

Then the pandemic hit. While I did do some development and limited playtesting of it in fits and starts during that time, getting people together to play it became problematic for obvious reasons. Little by little, I was getting the game to a state where others might enjoy it. I’m happy to say that in the last two weeks, we’ve moved a few dozen parsecs toward that goal.

Last week, I traveled up to Waterloo in Iowa to visit a group of friends who are some of the biggest board game fans I’ve ever encountered. Among them is my friend R.J. The two of us used to work together many years ago at Score Entertainment. If you ever ripped open a booster pack of the Dragon Ball Z, Dragon Ball GT, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer, Yu-Yu Hakusho, or InuYasha collectible card games back in the day, that’s the company I’m talking about.

R.J. and I sat for several hours during this trip going over the instruction manual I’d put together line by line, tweaking and refining the language for clarity and playability. Then we put the game to the test, seeing how it would hold up. The two of us played multiple two-player games in which R.J. won every single one. In fact, of all the games I played during that week, I didn’t win a single one of them! One was close, however, so close that it came down to a single die roll, and the deciding roll was failed by only a single pip. (I needed a three or better on a D6, and rolled a two.) So close!

While this track record might normally be cause for concern — in that the folks in Iowa were better at the game I created than I was — it just reinforced that I had come to the right place to put this game through its paces. It also meant that the gamers in residence were picking it up fast enough they could immediately get up to speed and start knocking it out of the park.

There were some really tense and cinematic moments. One in particular involved a hacker, a cyborg, a ton of security turrets, the game equivalent of a nasty UNO Reverse card, and the timeliest of timely sixes showing up on a D6 roll. This is what I had been hoping to see — people enjoying the game I created, and let me tell you there’s almost nothing like it.

This was the eponymous Battle of Waterloo, and it was glorious. This battle was not one of cannon and soldiers but mechanics and user experience. Far from a historic defeat, I came away with pages of notes and tweaks for the next iteration of the game. While I still need to address a few things and give some playable characters a much-needed shot in the arm to balance things out, this trip told me that I was actually closer to a releasable game than I could have hoped. I’d say we are approximately 80% of the way there at present.

With all that in mind, I plan to start putting things in order to run a crowdfunding campaign, likely on Kickstarter, for this game next year. It will be the first board game under the Sector M Games banner. There are many things that might affect this timeline, but I will start seeking estimates on what it would take to get this game off the ground and into the hands of players who might want it.

Artist: Remi Abrahams
https://www.artstation.com/remzorr

I also plan on doing a periodic developer’s diary on my Patreon in the lead-up to the crowdfunding effort, as well as some reveals (including the name and other good stuff), so if you would like to check that out, give it a look. My Patreon can be found at:

Patreon.com/c/TheSectorM

In the meantime, I have a ton of notes to go through and calibrations to make. I would like to give a personal and heartfelt thank you to those who were a part of the Battle of Waterloo. They are: R.J., Caroline, Justin, Mophat, Andrew, Holly, Britt, and Ace. Additionally, I’d like to thank the Dallas-based playtesters that helped get me this far. They include: Travis, Dave, James and Rob. All of you are getting special shoutouts in the acknowledgements section when this game comes out. 

Definitely watch this space as more information becomes available. In the meantime, I’ve put together a 1-hour playlist on YouTube for your cyberpunk listening pleasure. Give it a listen! And if you have suggestions for what else should go on it, send recommendations my way.

As I said before, the Battle of Waterloo, or at least my version of it, was a success in my book. And unlike Napoleon, my Waterloo is not an end but a beginning. I can’t wait to show you all what I’ve been working on!

Thanks for reading!


Fanboy Review #19 — Superman

[Note: I do not consider myself a movie critic. What follows is just one fanboy’s opinion based off of a single viewing of the film. Oh, and there are SPOILERS ahead for this movie, so take heed.]

Aside from my thoughts on the Adam West Batman and the 2017 Wonder Woman film, I haven’t talked about DC comics much on this blog. It’s not because I don’t like the characters from DC comics — because I definitely do — but those characters have not played as much into my daily discourse as those from Marvel (though that is changing). With the release of Superman last week, we now have a fresh take on the DC universe, which has been in a weird state for the last couple of years.  

I will say right up front that I wasn’t a big fan of the Snyderverse. I found the grim-dark take on Superman and the Justice League to be fundamentally at odds with the DC characters as I had come to know them from years of reading comics, watching other movie versions of them, playing video games, and so on. With that in mind, let’s talk about Superman

First Impressions

I tend to like James Gunn movies, in general, but I really like Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. I & II. So, when I heard that he was taking the Kevin Feige role of chief creative of the burgeoning DCU, I was encouraged by this.

As the trailers and marketing came out for this new version of Superman, I was…less sure. The tone felt off, Superman’s costume had the red trunks, but otherwise looked like a mid-range cosplay attempt. And, the first glimpse I got of David Corenswet as Superman was of him beaten and bloodied in the snow. I also wasn’t sure about introducing Guy Gardner as the Green Lantern before we had a chance to see Hal Jordan or John Stewart (no, the other John Stewart) in the role.

So, it was a mixed bag going in, but I was glad to get away from the uninspiring, depressing version of Superman from the Snyderverse. I hasten to add that I absolutely love Henry Cavill in the role of Superman, but I  just did not connect with the stories involving that version of the character. Even with these concerns, I was still going to go see the movie.

What I liked

Finally, a Superman Movie: Understand that I love Christopher Reeve Superman movies, particularly the first two. The hope and light that Reeve brought to that role is the gold standard for me. Other actors have captured the essence over the years. Tom Welling, Brandon Routh, Taylor Hoechlin, just to name a few. I was looking for that spark within David Corenswet’s performance, and I’m overjoyed that I found it. Superman films have not really had the magic for me since Superman Returns in 2006. Sitting there, watching this movie, there he was. Big Blue was back.

The Musical Score: The John Williams Superman theme is one of the most iconic pieces of music in cinematic history. Rarely has a piece of music so encapsulated a character within its notes as that one. The score for this film picks up from that theme, but adds to it, giving it new dimensions and new emotions that are wonderful. 

Lois & Clark: This movie definitely subscribes to the in media res theory of storytelling. There’s no origin story, no flashbacks. We start with Superman already a few years into his superhero career. His relationships are already in place. The chemistry between Corenswet and Rachel Brosnahan is excellent. From their very first scene together, it seems like they’ve known each other for years. The actors inhabit these roles like they already have a few movies under their belt. The scenes between them are as natural as breathing. I just wish there had been more of that.

The Justice Gang: I honestly can’t think of a more unlikely trio of JLA founding members than these three. It’s so early into the formation of the Justice League that they don’t even have the name nailed down yet. That said, any time we get Captain Mal in a movie, I’m pretty happy, regardless of what role he takes. I must admit that Mr. Terrific is not a character I was terribly familiar with, and the name definitely smacks of the 1940s Golden Age, but I really liked Edi Gathegi in this role. The Justice Gang needed a super-smart, tech-based superhero, and Mr. Terrific is all that, and more. Just like the other actors, Gathegi feels like he’s been playing this character for years instead of this being our introduction to him. I also liked Hawkgirl. I wish she had more things to do, and I could’ve used less screaming (see below), but as the third part of the trio, she’s a solid presence.

Real Stakes: It may have thrown me for a loop to see Supes beaten and bloody in the snow, and it did seem like he got hurt a lot in this movie, but it also gave some much-needed stakes to the story. Superman is known for being able to shrug off lots of punishment effortlessly, so when something does hurt him, it just underscores how dangerous the situation really is.

Pa Kent: I have a great respect for Pruitt Vince as a character actor. His range is pretty astounding. Seeing him worried about Clark’s condition upon arriving in Smallville was the set up. And when Clark is debating on his motivations for being on Earth, hearing Pa Kent’s voice break when he tells Clark just how proud he is really spoke to me. As a father myself, I identify with Pa Kent even more now.  

The Hall of Justice: The moment it appeared on screen, the announcer from Superfriends enthusiastically proclaimed “Meanwhile, at the Hall of Justice” in my head. I’m not sure where they filmed the interior shots, but it feels like a real place, if a little understaffed at the moment. I’m also not sure why the word “TRAINS” is written in silver letters on the back wall, but I’m really hoping that we get to see more of the Hall of Justice in future DCU movies. It did my heart good to see it on the big screen.

The Secret Guardians of the Galaxy Reunion: I didn’t realize this until I was looking up information on IMDB, but Pom Klementieff (Mantis) and Michael Rooker (Yondu) voice two of the robots at the Fortress of Solitude, and Bradley Cooper (Rocket) plays Jor-El in the recording. I see what you did there, James Gunn.

What I DIDN’T like

Changing Jor-El and Lara’s Motivations: Let’s talk about the elephant in the room. I understand for story reasons why this change took place, but having Jor-El and Lara’s last message to the young Kal-El be along the lines of “go create a harem and conquer the planet” is fundamentally at odds with the idealistic philosopher-scientist version of Jor-El that has been the mainstay of the Superman story for nearly a century. I know there have been other stories along this line, like Byrne’s The Man of Steel limited series. Smallville similarly departed from Jor-El’s lore (even going so far as to have Terrence Stamp, who had previously played General Zod, voice him). That was one of the big misses of that series, and I don’t care for it here either. It feels way off considering the tone of the rest of the movie.

Undercutting Serious Moments with Humor: There’s really only one writer who can pull this off consistently, and his name is Joss Whedon. Unfortunately, the Marvel tendency to emulate Whedon’s style by immediately following a serious moment with a joke is something that appears to have followed James Gunn over from the MCU. The worst offender is, by far, Taika Waititi in the Thor movies, but Gunn had his share with the Guardians of the Galaxy. When Gunn allows serious moments to play out, they are so much stronger, such as the case of Clark and Pa Kent. Poignant moments don’t need a punchline.  

Transformers All Over Again: Early in the movie, almost everyone in the world turns on Superman. Even though he has been actively saving people and helping Earth avoid catastrophe for three years, when the news about his parents’ message comes out, people are calling for his arrest instantly. One guy throws a can at Superman that I’m pretty sure Supes helped save only moments before. For movie purposes, I see why they did it, but it’s like Superman has not garnered any good will at all with the public. There are no dissenting voices or people on the fence. Then, when he is exonerated, it’s like all’s forgiven. Everyone hates Lex now, and just as rapidly. It feels a bit like how the people of Earth keep turning on the Autobots in the Transformers movies. It doesn’t matter what Optimus has done, or who he has saved, he’s just one mistake away from being hunted by the humans he has helped.

Lex Luthor: I should preface this. I think Nicholas Hoult is a fantastic actor, and it’s always nice to see someone ‘cross the isle’ from Marvel to DC. Hoult’s Lex Luthor definitely has the look, and is HEAD AND SHOULDERS above Jesse Eisenberg’s portrayal of the character in the Snyderverse, but that’s not enough. Instead of a cold, methodical mastermind that Superman should be really afraid of, we get a tech-bro who seems to have mainlined one too many espressos, acts like an immature teenager when he doesn’t get his way, and rarely comes off as a threat as much as an annoyance. I think Hoult did well with what he was given, but this is a weird take on Superman’s arch-nemesis. I much prefer Rosenbaum or Cryer’s approach to the character.   

Krypto, the Super Dog: This will likely be an unpopular opinion, but I could have done with a 95% reduction in the amount of screen time and consideration given to this dog. The Super-Pets have always been a bit weird to me, and are an odd relic from the early days of DC comics. A super monkey, a super horse, a super cat — all from Krypton, all with powers similar to Superman. Ugh. They are, at best, cameos if they are acknowledged at all. The Terrier/Schnauzer mix of this Krypto is not only distracting from the story, but a danger to everyone around him. Superman takes him away from the Kent Farm for fear of the dog killing his family’s cows. Having a hyper-active dog that powerful is a threat to every human he encounters. Superman should really keep him bottled up in the Fortress of Solitude.

Punk Rock Theme: The movie goes out of its way to establish Clark as a punk rock fan. A version of Iggy Pop’s Punk Rocker even plays over the credits. It’s a good song, for sure, and Gunn has historically had a way of using classic music to underscore great moments on screen. However, If I had to rate the members of the Justice League on who might be into Iggy Pop, I would have to rate Superman as dead last. The Flash, Blue Beetle, even Batman? Sure. Superman, the boy scout version that we get in this movie, seems like he would be into folk or country & western, maybe bluegrass, especially being from a small town in rural Kansas. Punk rock is just such a weird, discordant choice here.

Hawk Girl’s Screams/Murder: Her ‘death scream’ started to edge into ‘the goats screaming in Thor: Ragnarok’ territory. But the main moment Hawkgirl gets in this movie is a straight-out murder. Guy Gardner said previously that the Justice Gang was not political. Intervening in the slaughter of innocents is one thing, but kidnapping a head of state and dropping him to his death is pretty suspect. Generally speaking, assassinating the leader of a sovereign country is a political act, but here it’s played for laughs. Do you want the DC equivalent of the Sokovia Accords? Because that’s a surefire way to get them.

Ma Kent: I don’t know what accent James Gunn thinks country folk in Kansas have, but it’s not whatever cornpone that Ma Kent was yelling into her phone. Come on, Martha. You don’t have to yell, he can hear you. In fact, he could probably hear you without the phone. Considering how wonderful the portrayal of Pa Kent was here, that it’s weirdly reversed for Ma Kent is another mystery to me.

A Conveniently Empty Battleground: I’m not sure what the population of Metropolis is, but I’m guessing that it’s up around Chicago or Boston, possibly even New York. Evacuating that many people would take days, maybe even weeks. When the final battle throws down, and skyscrapers are falling like dominoes, however, there are zero people in them. When Superman saves the lady on the bridge, she’s the only car around. That bridge should be packed, but as she’s taking off there’s nary another car in sight. Still, I much prefer this to Superman and Zod duking it out during the peak hours of the day with zero evacuation and reducing downtown Metropolis to below sea level. The death toll would have been in the tens of thousands.

Unanswered Questions

I mentioned the message from Superman’s Kryptonian parents earlier. As far as everyone in the movie is concerned, the message is authentic. It’s a bit weird that any linguist from Earth would be able to crack an alien language when there are so few examples available to study. We’re not even sure if Superman himself knows that much of the Kryptonian language. He certainly didn’t grow up speaking it. The only one who might speak it fluently is Supergirl, but I doubt that she’s taking time out of her busy, off-world party tour to teach a course on Kryptonian grammar and rhetoric.

For the very fact that we never hear the message spoken in English is itself a bit of a mystery, so I have to wonder if we’ll see it again in the future to discover that there’s some additional context to consider, or that someone got their verb tenses off where the message means something else. It’s likely wishful thinking on my part, but the pieces are already in place if they choose to revisit it.

I suppose the other question I have at this point is just how well the movie itself is doing. The news praised its strong performance out of the gate, but at the time of this writing, Box Office Mojo has it a $261 million worldwide, and it looks like attendance is already tapering off just a week into its release. For context, Thunderbolts* made $382 million worldwide during its run, and it was considered a huge flop. I desperately hope this is not the case for this movie. The parts I didn’t like were numerous but ultimately trifles. I want the new DCU to succeed, and so I hope that Supes doesn’t go down without a fight.

Conclusions

I have been waiting years for this movie, before Gunn was the head guy at DC, heck even before Snyder first got his hands on the property. I’ve wanted a Superman movie that gave me that same thrill as when I first saw Christopher Reeve pull open his button-up shirt to reveal the familiar ‘S’ underneath, set to the John Williams theme.

That’s what I’ve been chasing all these years. I got a taste of that with Superman Returns, which was a direct sequel to the Richard Donner films, but it didn’t quite get there in the end. On the small screen, I’ve been luckier. The first few seasons of Smallville were amazing along the Buffy: The Vampire Slayer template. More recently, the last vestige of the CW DC universe, Superman & Lois, was one of the best versions of Superman I’ve ever seen on screen.

But the Snyderverse was a vast desert for me when it came to Superman. That’s why this movie is an important one, even if some of the creative choices were odd. Overall, if this is the way the new DCU is going, count me in.

In closing, the tagline to Superman: The Movie in 1978was “You’ll believe a man can fly.” After seeing this movie, I can believe it again.

And that’s the way this fanboy sees it.


Don’t Quit Your Day Job

The title of this blog post is generally good advice — however, I have elected to do the opposite. Yes, folks, after many years of office jobs, contract positions, and corporate roles, I’m hanging up my proverbial entry badge and lanyard, and cutting the cord. Am I retiring? Far from it.

I left my full-time role earlier this month so I could focus on the things that matter most to me. Namely, my books, my games, museum and experiential writing, and my family. I did not make this decision lightly, but rest assured that when I realized what I needed to do, a feeling of calm tranquility washed over me, and the path ahead became clear.

The Moment in Question

About two weeks after I graduated from high school, my godparents took me on a trip to Grand Cayman. I’ve written previously about the two of them here and here. We were accompanied by their son, whose tendency to get up super early in the morning gave him the lifelong nickname of “Rooster.” We went SCUBA diving on this trip in some of the most beautiful waters I’ve ever been in, especially around Devil’s Grotto. This was also the time I saw a barracuda way too up close and personal, but that’s another story.  

It’s one of the most wonderful trips I’ve ever been on, together with three people I loved dearly. I remember the last few hours of that trip, I just sat under a gazebo, staring out over the brilliant turquoise and violet waters of the North Sound. I didn’t want to leave, and I think a part of me never did.

The Disney Treasure

I had always meant to go back, but could never find my way until just recently. My family went on a Disney Cruise in the Caribbean, and one of our stops was at Grand Cayman. I was on a different part of the island than the last time I stepped foot there, but the ankle-deep sand, the wind on my face, and the motion of the waves against the shore took me back to when I was a freshly minted 18-year-old.

The sad fact is that Rooster passed away when I was in college, taken way too early. I lost my godmother in 2020, and my godfather passed away almost a year ago at the time of this writing.

Now I’m the only one left who remembers that trip. To some degree this was my “Oak Tree” moment, but it was less about realizing the full scope of time in a place of history, and more about understanding that I only have so many years left to pursue my dreams with the vigor and passion they require.

Let’s just say that it brought things sharply into focus.

But How Will You Make This Work?

But Matt, I hear you saying: People don’t just quit their jobs! How will you pay your bills? How will you put gas in your car? Where will you get your protein, huh?!

First, thank you for your concern — it’s always appreciated. Second, I have been working towards this goal for some time now, trying to get things squared away and certain safeguards put in place before I could even consider making an honest go of it. All of those things had begun to align after years of preparation, culminating pretty recently. All that was left to do was to conjure up the will to finally break away, and conjure it I did, there on that beach in Grand Cayman.

Drink up, me ‘earties, yo ho!

So, here we are. This is what I do now. Sector M Games has two projects in the works, with a possible third to follow. I have decided to self-publish a series of books and short stories that I’ve been working on for a while now, while pursuing some traditional publishing routes for other books I have either finished or that are currently in production.

There are also some exciting freelance projects that I have in the works that I can’t quite talk about just yet, but there’ll be more on that as they develop. Additionally, I’ll be putting together a Sector M newsletter to keep everyone in the loop on the latest information and projects. Most importantly, I want to build up Sector M as a community that sci-fi, fantasy, and gaming enthusiasts can call home.

To that end, I need your help. I have a Patreon that’s been going for a while, and I’ve just finished a revamp of the membership tiers, so I strongly encourage you to check it out here:

SECTOR M PATREON

It’s a small community at the moment, so if you would like to get in on the ground floor and support what I do, please consider joining.

Aside from Patreon, I also have two books and two game supplements out there. If you haven’t picked up a copy of them yet, it would be a big help.

Books:

The Backwards Mask (Sci-fi)

Strange Reports from Sector M (Sci-fi/Fantasy anthology)

Game Supplements:

The Artificer’s Guide to Magic Items (5e D&D crafting guide)

The Knights of Solamnia Revisited (5e D&D for Dragonlance)

These four are just the beginning. It may take me a while to spin up some of the new projects I have in mind, especially those that I’ll need to build from the ground up, but this will be my focus moving forward. For those of you who are already supporting this effort (and you know who you are), you have my heartfelt and eternal thanks.

To those of you who haven’t yet jumped on the Sector M train (in the strictly figurative sense), I hope you will check out what I have to offer and help me build towards the future. With that in mind, I hope to see you around the Sector!

Si vales, valeo.

-Matt Carson


Ad Astra: My Inevitable Journey to the Kennedy Space Center

As a kid, I thought that the greatest thing you could ever grow up to be was an astronaut. I know it sounds cliché, but when I was in grade school, I thought that there was no greater calling. Much of my love for science fiction stems from the science of space exploration.

There was just something about the mystique of braving the extreme dangers of outer space and coming back safely that was the ultimate in cool. Names like Aldrin, Shepard, Lovell, and even their Soviet cosmonaut counterpart, Yuri Gagarin, were the giants of my world. Let’s talk a little about why.

The Right Stuff

I believe now, as I did back then, that astronauts and what they do represent the best of us. Astronauts themselves embody peak intelligence, physical and mental discipline, courage, commitment and a willingness to push the limits of what we think is possible. On the odd chance that any astronaut, past or present, should read this blog, you are the stars of my sky. Truly. The same goes for the multitude of scientists, engineers and technical specialists that help make it all happen.

The space program, on the other hand, is the culmination of our greatest scientific, technological, and engineering efforts in an ongoing attempt to satisfy our curiosity about the universe around us — a curiosity that can never truly be satisfied. In essence, it’s our best people, doing the best work, for the greatest reason. It’s the noblest part of our humanity writ large. Yeah, I know I may be laying it on a little thick, but I really believe that.

Two Space Centers

While I’ve lived in Texas my whole life, the Johnson Space Center (JSC) in Houston was just far enough from where I went to school that we never went there as part of any field trips. This is the place that James Lovell was addressing when he said “Houston, we’ve had a problem here” during the Apollo 13 mission. It was only as an adult that I got to sit in the viewing room, among the original red velveteen seats overlooking Mission Control where Lovell’s message was received. I’ve been there a few times now, and I can’t help but be inspired every time I go. Houston is not exactly in my back yard, but it’s a weekend trip, like going down there to go to Texas Renaissance Festival (yes, the one from the documentary), or any of the many excellent museums there. 

The part of NASA that I had never visited until recently, however, is the Kennedy Space Center (KSC) in Cape Canaveral, Florida, where the Mercury and Apollo missions, just to name a few, launched from originally. Rockets still launch from there today, though now commercial rockets from Blue Origin, Space X, and others are in the lineup as well.

For me, this was the place where the rubber met the proverbial road of the space program. This was the stage where it all happened, both the towering accomplishments of Apollo 11 and the tragedy of Apollo 1. Following through on President Kennedy’s aspirations to put a man on the moon is nothing less than a triumph of the human spirit. 

Perhaps the most tangible symbol of this is the Saturn V rocket, which was key to the moon missions. If you’ve never seen one before, it’s massive. As tall as a 30-story building, taller than the Statue of Liberty, when you look at this rocket, you start to get an idea of what it took to get to the moon. The difference between the gigantic superstructure of the Saturn and the almost ridiculously small command module at the very top is unbelievable. It’s humbling to stand in the shadow of this titan and begin to understand the number of scientists, engineers, construction specialists, and other personnel it took to design and build something like that.

Now, I’m not blind to the driving forces behind the early space program and the finer points of the Space Race, but when I look up at a Saturn V, I see only humanity at its finest. It’s the same kind of feeling when I see a space shuttle. Well, the KSC has the Space Shuttle Atlantis (OV-104) on the grounds as well, and seeing it up close was a powerful experience.

It’s strange; the shuttle is both bigger and smaller than I had guessed. Still, I could only just stand there, looking at her for a long while. You can still see the pits and scars on the black tiles of her aft section, near her thrusters, made from micro-meteors. Even writing about it gives me chills.

Much like my trip to Graceland, I think I’ve been on a journey to the KSC for a very long time, long before I knew exactly why or could even find it on a map. I think my trips to the JSC and, ultimately, the KSC were inevitable, and I can’t wait to go back one day.

The Next Generation

Of course, there are any number of interactive experiences and displays scattered around the KSC, even a couple of rides you can go on that simulate space exploration. Much like the JSC in Houston, I definitely get the impression that many of the attractions are meant for school field trips and families with children.

I’m glad of that. Younger generations deserve to have an exciting and inspirational vision of the space sciences, astrophysics, and exploration the same as me. I mean, I grew up eating astronaut ice cream and drinking Tang, and I’ve never doubted for a minute just how important the space program is to all of us. Not just those of us in the United States, but all of us.

Why It’s Important

I’ve heard the arguments against it all, of course. I even understand where these arguments come from. Normally they go something like this: How can we afford to spend all that time, effort and money on space stuff when we have so many problems down here at home?

For me, that’s the wrong question, which boils down to: How can we afford not to? We can talk about the tangible things that are directly attributable to the space program like the aforementioned Tang, non-stick coating for pots and pans, and so on, but many of the advances we enjoy today, like computers, cell phones, the internet, have their roots in the pursuit of space.

But more than that, consider this: The space program is a catalyst for science and technology that isn’t war. It is a peaceful way for us to learn more about life, the universe, and everything. Space is also one of the few fronts where nations that are actively hostile on the ground can still cooperate up there.

Final Thoughts

Space is the one place where humanity can really come together for the betterment of all. At least, that’s how it’s been, and I hope it continues on that way. I know that sounds a bit pie-in-the sky, and maybe it is, but that is one of the reasons that the space program resonates so heavily with me. It’s the best of us, exploring the unknown, and uniting in a shared purpose.

And what could be more human than that? 

Thanks for reading.


Tropes I Love: Mentors and Secondary Characters

Many of my posts lately have mentioned the character of Gandalf from The Lord of the Rings, and that got me to thinking about the kind of role that he plays in his story. That led to me considering similar characters throughout fiction. These types of characters, the mentors and the secondary characters, play a crucial role in their respective stories.

Anytime we get a story with a strong mentor character, the odds go way up that I’ll be tuned in, especially when it’s their turn to give an inspiring speech or just the right piece of wisdom to set the protagonist on the proper path.

With that in mind, I’ve put together a list of some of my favorite mentors in fiction, detailing why I love them so much. True, the majority of them are from the fantasy/sci-fi genres, but that’s just because the stories that have influenced me the most have been in those spaces. This list represents the stories that have had the biggest impact on me, as well as the ones nearest and dearest to my heart. 

Who They Are

Before we get into the list proper, let’s talk about my criteria for a good mentor character. First and foremost, a mentor is wise and experienced. This often means that the mentor is older than the protagonist. They can be, at times, more book-smart or informed than the protagonist, but not always. More often than not, these characters tend to be male, as they often double as a father figure to the protagonist, though this is thankfully starting to change.

Sometimes the mentor is more powerful than the protagonist, but this is not required. In some tellings, the mentor starts out more powerful but then the protagonist eventually surpasses them. Mentors who are less powerful than their protagonists present an even more interesting dynamic as they must guide the hero in wielding powers they may not possess themselves.

Mentors are often self-sacrificing as well, as evidenced by how often they die in their duties or the things they are willing to sacrifice for their ideals. In that sense, mentors tend to have a noble streak even if it’s not always apparent at first glance. 

Who They Aren’t

Mentors, by their very nature, are not meant to be the main character (thus the “secondary character” epithet). Likewise, they are not generally marked by destiny, fate or the demands of the world in the way that the protagonist is. They are, to coin a term from Sky High, “hero support” in a very real way.

Generally speaking, the protagonist can’t go it alone. They usually need help to learn what is required to reach for that seemingly impossible end-point. It is the mentor’s training/wisdom/lessons that will ultimately empower the protagonist on their journey, allowing them to reach higher and go further than they ever thought possible. When the story’s denouement inevitably comes, the protagonist often finds that none of it would have been possible without the help of their mentor.

Perhaps most importantly, the mentor isn’t the one to make the big play, but rather their actions empower the protagonist to become the turning point of the story in their own right.

The Mentor Hall of Fame

1. Uncle Iroh

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Let’s start with one of the all-time greats. Voiced originally by Mako, Uncle Iroh occupies a unique space in that his charge, his nephew, Zuko, is not actually the protagonist. Quite the opposite, in fact, especially in the early parts of the story. Eventually Zuko comes around, after perhaps one of the best redemption arcs ever, and Iroh is willing to share his wisdom with the rest of Team Avatar, and Aang, Kitara, Sokka, Toph and the rest are better off for it.

Iroh doesn’t stop there. He even makes a few cameos in The Legend of Korra, dispensing his usual brand of avuncular wisdom to Avatar Korra. Despite his nearly unsinkable attitude and positivity throughout incredible hardships, there is a sadness at the core of him following the tragic death of his son. In that way, he is not only a surrogate father to Zuko, but Zuko is a surrogate son to him. I think that Mako’s performance really lent the character a depth and nuance that we don’t find very often. While they were big shoes to fill, I think that Greg Baldwin did a fantastic job in picking up the role when Mako passed away.

2. Rupert Giles

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

For me, Giles practically personifies this type of character for many reasons. While he may have the book smarts, experience, and wisdom, he doesn’t have the powers of the Slayer. He’s just a regular bloke who is there to make sure that Buffy is ready to face the challenges before her.

Often, Giles is called upon to back her up in battle against foes that are far beyond the scope of any regular person, which I think makes his bravery that much more extraordinary. While he has only a fraction of Buffy’s physical strength, reflexes, and resilience, he’s always there, he doesn’t back down, and he genuinely cares for Buffy, perhaps more than he should in his position as her Watcher. More than that, he also has a clear understanding of the incredible pressures that Buffy, as the Chosen One, is constantly under. He would gladly take that burden from her but knows that he can’t. Ultimately, Buffy has to be the Slayer. He can’t slay her demons, but he can be there for her when it counts the most.

3. Morpheus

The Matrix

Pro tip: If your mentor character is played by the inestimable Lawrence Fishburne, you are winning at life. Such is the case with Neo from The Matrix. Morpheus is not only a guide to Neo in understanding the Matrix itself but he is also willing to personally sacrifice himself simply because he truly believes that Neo is the One, even when Neo himself has doubts. Like Giles, Morpheus is incredibly good at what he does, but realizes that soon Neo will fully surpass him, and he’s okay with that. His mentee is fated to be something greater than anyone could possibly imagine.

Even when this transition does happen, Neo is canny enough to realize that Morpheus’ experience, world view, and tactical brilliance are things that he will need if he wants to take the fight to the machines. Things got a bit weird in the sequels for Morpheus (and really all members of Team Neo), but I still think that Morpheus is one of the most shining examples of a mentor in the movies, full stop.  

4. Fin Raziel

Willow

Willow was a favorite of mine when I was a kid. Even back then, I saw the similarities to Star Wars, even before I realized that George Lucas was behind both properties. She was an interesting change of pace in that she is initially pretty powerless when Willow encounters her, little more than a talking animal. And yet, she is able to get Willow on the path to being a sorcerer. Eventually, she returns to human form and is back up to her powers that far surpass Willow’s, yet this change does not really alter their relationship. I also applaud her for not lingering on the fact that she has aged during her exile. It shows that vanity barely registers with her, and that the mission to restore peace to the land is much more important to her.

In this story, she is the only one capable of taking on the main villain, Queen Bavmorda, in a spell duel. Raziel ultimately fails when it comes to the boss fight, but she buys Willow the time he needs to save Elora Dannan. But even when she falls in the final fight, Raziel does what any good mentor does: she steps aside to give her protagonist the moment to shine.

5. Obi-Wan Kenobi

Star Wars

The quintessential mentor character, Master Obi-Wan was mentor to two separate protagonists in his day. While his first outing at the job went spectacularly wrong, ultimately giving rise to Darth Vader, one of the most memorable movie villains ever, he is ultimately able to be a mentor to Luke and set his charge on the right path. The remarkable thing is that he accomplishes this without all that much screentime, and does sacrifice himself to allow Luke to get away (ironically dying by the hand of his former protagonist). Not content with that, Obi-Wan even comes back after his death to give Luke a bit more advice on three separate occasions. Talk about a commitment to the role!

When we see these types of characters on the movie screen, it’s so important that the actor behind them exude that type of experience, competence, and wisdom that are so critical for establishing the mentor in the minds of the audience. Sir Alec Guiness did that and made it look effortless. Later on, Ewan MacGregor picked up the role wonderfully. While the prequel trilogy often gets razzed, the moment where Ewan’s Obi-Wan laments to a defeated Anakin that he was the chosen one really hits home. He’s pouring out his sorrow and pain at having to fight his friend, all with the knowledge he has utterly failed in his role as a mentor. The power of that scene really is a testament to MacGregor’s acting chops. 

6. Violet Crawley

Downton Abbey

As mentors go, the Dowager Countess defies many conventions. Violet is primarily a mentor to her granddaughter, Lady Mary, but to the rest of her family at various points, too. That is not Violet’s only role in the series — her frenemy relationship with Isobel springs to mind — but it comes back to that time and time again. Of course, Violet has quite a few blind spots for being part of the old guard of the English aristocracy. Yet in a changing world, she speaks with hard-won wisdom on how to negotiate the upper echelons of power and influence. We find that she’s made many mistakes in her time, and the resulting experience is something she shares with Lady Mary so that her granddaughter (hopefully) won’t make those same mistakes.

One of the most compelling points about her character is simply that she was once in the same position as Lady Mary. She had her time as a countess, living in the main suites of Downton Abbey, then moved on from that time in her life when her husband died. Even in a kind of retirement for the Peerage, she is still a will and force to be reckoned with. Some of my favorite moments in that show come from Dame Maggie Smith’s performance. Much like Lawrence Fishburne, if Maggie Smith is playing your mentor, the universe has smiled upon you. May she rest in peace.  

7. Gandalf

The Hobbit/The Lord of the Rings

I thought I would end this list with perhaps the greatest mentor figure in all of fiction. The opposite of Giles, Gandalf the Grey is almost infinitely more powerful than his protagonist, Frodo Baggins. He’s an immortal, angelic being that has been sent by the Valar to Middle-earth to defeat Sauron. Frodo, on the other hand, is more diminutive than even an average human, and largely powerless. By design, Gandalf is there to advise, to observe, and to help rather than be the prime mover of the conflict. He knows when to impart just the right nugget of wisdom to those around him, elevating them to greater heights, or show them the error of their ways.

When Círdan the Shipwright meets Gandalf as he enters Middle-earth, the ancient elf gives the wizard Narya, the Ring of Fire, telling him “with it you may rekindle hearts in a world that grows chill.” Círdan naturally recognized what Gandalf’s role was fated to be in the coming conflict. Gandalf definitely has some things in common with Merlin from the Arthurian legends. This makes sense when you consider that Tolkien was trying to create a body of myths that were inherently British, rather than a French invention, but he did take a lot of cues from those stories.

In any case, Gandalf really is the gold standard for literary mentor figures on the page and screen, and I would be remiss if I didn’t talk about just how great Sir Ian McKellan’s performance as this character really was. Not for the first time, when the world grows dark, I wish that Gandalf were really here among us to give us just the nudge we need to get on the right path, along with the accompanying inspirational speech so that we don’t give up.

Honorable Mentions

Here are several characters that partially fulfill the role of a mentor, but have enough ‘main character energy’ as the kid’s say. They have the wisdom and experience, but are not necessarily secondary characters with full agency and story arcs of their own as the protagonist:

  • Optimus Prime
  • Tyrion Lannister
  • Polgara the Sorceress
  • Mary Poppins
  • Captain America
  • Professor X 

Final Thoughts

I think what I like most about mentors as a reoccurring device in literature stems from the genuine love they bear for their protagonists. Their journey is a deeply heartfelt and personal one. It isn’t just a job to them; it’s their mission in life. They embody what it means to be committed to an ideal, one that almost always means more to them than their own life.

Mentors are the helping hand that’s extended when the hero needs it most, the purveyors of insight to reframe the hero’s perspective for the better, and the guiding light to show the hero that there’s more to them than they may guess. Finding a person like this in the real world is a true rarity, and if you’ve ever had one in your life, count yourself lucky.

But really, I think that mentors represent the assistance we wish we’d had in those times when help never came, as well as the kind of wise, stabilizing figure that we hope we can be to those close to us in the future.

Thanks for reading!


Of Obituaries and Empathy

Here’s a fact about yours truly you may not know: My writing career began at a metropolitan newspaper … as an obituary writer. I was 18, just starting out in college, and was recruited by the instructor of my Mass Communications class.

I stayed at this job for more than three years while I went to school. Once I graduated, I went into the world of marketing and advertising, where I have largely remained. Well, at my day job recently, I wrote an obituary for a prior employee who had passed away. For a moment, I dusted off that skillset of where I started out as a writer. It was a sad duty, but one I accepted, for reasons that I will get into later in this post.

While this was all on my mind, I wanted to put down in words some of the things I learned in this early role, why I ultimately left it, and why I think that obituaries and funeral services, in general, are important.

Life and Death in the Obit Department

For the most part, I was just a writer at a desk, working on a computer like everyone else, but there were additional elements that made the job emotionally challenging. We had a random number of obituaries that would come in each day, and this job taught me about deadlines. Do whatever you need to do, just make sure your copy is in by 3:00.

We would verify all the elements of an obituary with the funeral home, often just the spelling of a name that looked off, or a birthday if the one listed on the intake form didn’t match up, things like that. Most of the time, we would just call up the funeral home and speak to one of their representatives, but sometimes we would need to contact the family.

Understand that these were people who had lost a loved one a day or two prior to this call, or even that same day. They were often confused, angry and still trying to wrap their head around their loss, so we had to be very gentle with them. While we had to remain professional, everyone understood that a dose of empathy and understanding could go a long way.

Perhaps the most heartbreaking part was when they would show up to the office to deliver a photo of their loved one. They might even look fine and composed when they walked through the door. It was the moment that they handed the photo over that they almost always started crying. That act was what brought the realization of their grief to the forefront for them. It made the loss real. We had a special side room with a box of tissues and two chairs to give them space to compose themselves. I must’ve seen this scene play out dozens of times during my tenure there.

It wasn’t all bad, however. Because we dealt with dozens of names per day, there were times we started to see emerging trends in when a person was born and the theme of their name. For instance, from about 1908 to the early 1920s, it became popular to name girls after precious stones. Pearl, Emerald, Opal, and so forth. My great-grandmother, who was born in 1911, was named Ruby.

We also determined that the average age of the incoming obituaries was around 77, which was skewed every once in a while by a younger person, usually a teenager, who tragically died in a car wreck or a similar accident.

Of course there were exceptions.  

Why I Stopped

Much of what I learned about journalism in those early days drove home the idea of professional detachment, of learning and reporting the facts without getting too close as that might harm your objectivity. That wasn’t always easy when you were dealing with grieving families on a daily basis. Even when they would sometimes call up the office and yell and scream at us for getting something wrong (whether it was actually wrong or not), I knew that was just their grief talking. I still had a job to do, and I couldn’t get too wrapped up in any one case or else I simply wouldn’t be able to function in that space.

As the saying goes, it was bound to happen, and one day it did. I received an obituary for an eight-year-old boy. Any time I received an obit in my queue that was in the single digits, it warranted a second look, just to make sure that neither the family nor the funeral home had left out a digit.

This one came with the photo, an Olan Mills portrait of the kid. And let me tell you, this photo was so good that it looked like one that might come with a wallet or a blank picture frame. He had a big smile on his face like he was about to burst out laughing, a smile that was reflected in his eyes. He just looked so full of life. I was immediately saddened just by seeing this boy who should’ve still been alive, but wasn’t. My professional detachment took a major hit. All through the day, I was haunted by the thought of this boy. Often, the cause of death wasn’t reported to us, so I never found out what had taken him.

As I worked through this obituary, I found that there was some inconsistency in the information that was provided. For the life of me, I don’t remember what it was, perhaps a family member’s name that looked misspelled or a mismatch between the day of the week for services and the day of the month. I called the funeral home, but no one picked up. Standard procedure was to then call the family. This boy had lived with his family in Alaska, so I dialed the number.

This was long enough ago that folks still had answering machines. Well, guess whose voice greeted me, inviting me to leave my name and number after the beep? I sat there at my desk, looking down at his photo while that boy’s voice spoke to me on the phone, and his voice exactly matched his photo. My detachment shattered at that point. I can’t remember now if I even left a message. I likely did, but it was suddenly my turn to use the side room to try to compose myself.

I never looked at the job the same way again. Sometimes in the hustle to meet deadlines, the names and dates and associations all blurred together. Sometimes you stopped seeing them as people and viewed them as just line items on a list, as tasks that needed to be completed. This little boy stopped me in my tracks, giving me a sharp reminder that each name was attached to a family that was morning their loss. But how could something as simple as an obituary encapsulate the fullness and nuance of someone’s life? The truth was it couldn’t.

It wouldn’t.

It shouldn’t. 

I limped along in this job for another few months, but I knew I was done. I went to work for a local phone company, and while there were a few opportunities for me to come back to the obit department along the way, I never did.   

Why They Are Important

Obituaries may be a flawed and limited way to mark someone’s passing, but time and reflection have changed my attitudes toward them. The same goes with funerals and memorial services. They are sad affairs, of course, but they help us frame the loss in our minds when everything seems in chaos. They are a necessary step to help us mourn and begin to heal.

“This is where we part.”

When I said earlier that I hadn’t written an obituary in a while, that wasn’t precisely true. What I meant was a formal obituary, one where I didn’t know the individual personally. The fact is that I have been writing obituaries of a kind right here on this blog, though they are a far cry from what I did at the newspaper. In these, my detachment had completely gone out the airlock, and rightfully so. These were people that I loved, that I still love, whose loss devastated me, and I still wrestle with their loss. (You can find them here, here, and here.)

Obituaries, like funerals, are for the living. While they can help us get back on the proverbial horse, they have another function, one that I think is the most important: It’s how we remember them. When someone is gone, that’s one of the greatest honors that one human can do for another — simply to remember them fondly.

A Note On Empathy

Of course, I couldn’t let a heavy topic like this go by without some sort of geeky reference, so here it is. In The Lord of the Rings, Gandalf was an angelic being known as a maiar.Other powerful figures in the story, such as Saruman and Sauron, were part of this same group. Each of the maiar were at some point apprenticed to one of the valar, much more powerful beings that were effectively gods. In Gandalf’s case, he had served Nienna, the vala whose portfolio was grief and sadness. She continually wept for all the pain in Arda, even for things that had not yet come to pass. It’s thought that the reason Gandalf understood empathy and pity so well was because of this affiliation.

With that in mind, I’m a big proponent of the adage that we should always be kind to people because we never know what war they’re secretly fighting that we know nothing about. Our friends, our family, our co-workers may be going through some seriously emotional stuff, and we may never be aware of it. Perhaps a small kindness from you is what helps someone who is struggling to get through their day. Having been in various states of mourning for more than a year now, I know this to be true.

Yes, it’s easy to be cynical about this, especially with all that is going on around us, and it seems like it’s everyone for themselves. I’ve noticed a quote from Elon Musk that’s been floating around on Twitter these days. There are a few variations, but they all more or less come down to this:

“The fundamental weakness of Western civilization is empathy.”

I’m not sure that I could disagree with this statement more. I think that it’s a lack of empathy that is the root cause of much of our suffering, and the overwhelming majority of our problems. Our worst vices, our inhumanity to each other, all stem from a lack of empathy. So, in a world where we could choose to have more or less of it, I would choose more every time.

I think that’s what makes us fundamentally human.

Thanks for reading.