Lockout: The Zones of the City

Drawing up my map for the city of Placeholder, I knew that I wanted a larger number of zones than The Angry DM’s example area, but I only added approximately 50% more than his purposefully small example presented. Even sitting at a mere 14 zones I’m still intimidated by the prospect of statting everything up, and keep telling myself “It’s a sandbox, it’s a sandbox.” The dream is that after a tremendous amount of work up-front, I’ll be able to largely coast through encounters in these various areas. Of course, plot hooks popped into my head as soon as I started labeling and connecting the zones, and I very much look forward to sending players backtracking through dangerous areas to reach something important.

For instance, the players might find their path to the A Gate blocked by a barricade that requires them to travel back through the Merchant Quarter to reach the Engineering District and secure an explosive. However, the plans for that explosive require reagents that send them searching both the Merchant Quarter and the Arcanum. By the time all that’s done, they’ll have the explosive necessary to take down the barricade—but the various factions will have shifted and battled in the meantime. The barricade may have already been removed through the main strength of bugbears, or overrun by feral squirrelmen. Squirrelmen are absolutely a real thing in this campaign.

Since Zak S mentioned the 25-word campaign descriptions idea, I’m going to use that to briefly sketch out the nature of each zone and what the players can expect there…perhaps not in 25 words, but I’ll at least shoot for that many. That makes this a work in progress.

Embarking On a New DnD Campaign

Infused with energy after completing my master’s degree, excitement over some new things I’ve read in DnD (both recently, and all the way back to when Krahulik started his sandbox game), and the endless restless hunger that constantly has me switching my entertainments, I’m starting up a campaign. I’m going to resurrect one of the campaigns I built for a relatively open-ended game right after I had moved to Sioux Falls and 4e dropped: the Tran Empire.

The hook for the game will actually be identical to that of the original adventure I ran (which actually managed to make it through two encounters and two skill challenges, a pretty incredible level of success for a play-by-post game on Myth-Weavers), though advanced a few hours or even days and not necessarily featuring the same characters. The Tran are, or were, the dominant clan of dwarves in a civilization stretching across a massive continent and spreading slightly into the connected landmass to the south. The vast majority of the dwarven empire is subterranean, with major surface settlements every few hundred miles for commerce with other nations and consideration of those citizens who do not thrive beneath the earth. However, almost all travel within the Tran Empire is conducted through paved and buttressed tunnels underground, patrolled by crack dwarven guards mounted on trained saurian’s (or, even worse for brigands, arcane steel mimicry of the same). There are no highways above ground, and in fact hardly any roads at all. The major Tran cities are all walled, and the farmers who operate directly outside the walls can depend on the efficient protection of the Tran army—thousands of goblins, hobgoblins, and bugbears bred and trained to serve their dwarven masters without question. The rest of the Tran surface “territory” is essentially held just like countries use radar and airforces to keep the skies above their land clean of strangers, and for the same reason. Bands of Tran dwarves roam the woods with their orcish troops, killing dangerous monsters and quelling the savage beastmen that infest the woods and fens…but frankly, the dwarves aren’t even trying to be everywhere at once.

Unfortunately for the players, this is a time of great upheaval in the Tran Empire. Specifically, all of the Tran are dead. Somehow, in an undertaking so massive it boggles the mind and eclipsed the preparation of the nation, hordes of beastmen were teleported into the homes and holdings of every Tran dwarf. With the clan eradicated, the other dwarves of substance have been recalled beneath the surface to debate who is best suited to seize the civilization; a debate that is likely to drag on for some time. Once their dwarven masters disappeared, however, the goblinoids seized the cities with a practice and precision that suggests decades of planning for this very eventuality. They have a nice, already-crafted empire they’re loathe to see wasted, and have set about eradicating any foreign elements in their towns while efficiently killing off those dwarves who might remain on the surface to challenge their rule. On the frontiers, entire orc bands had their dwarven handlers snatched from their midst by magic; lacking leadership, they’re quickly working to expand their control and fortify themselves, equally eager to escape the iron gauntlet of dwarven rule.

Other races and cultures exist, of course, and there are some innovations I’m anticipating bringing to the game; but this serves as a brief introduction for what is to come.

Movie Review: The Expendables

There's a book joke at the beginning of The Expendables. When I saw the film today, I was the only one who laughed.

There's a joke in the movie about Arnold Schwarzenegger's political aspirations in the film; everyone laughed. I think that probably says a lot about the crowd in the theater when I saw the movie, but I also think it says something about the film itself. The Expendables looks like it should be a stupid fun romp, and it certainly succeeds at the fun part. But it's also something pretty magical, in that it concentrates decades of action movie talent across a wide gamut of subgenres (Stallone, Statham, Li, and DOLPH LUNDGREN!), along with lesser-known actors (Terry Crews and Randy Couture) who've made their names in other areas (Being a huge muscly black guy and UFC, respectively). The middle field is also stocked with classic character actors like Eric Roberts, who can't help but be the villain whenever he's on camera, and Mickey Rourke who, frankly, gives the most moving monologue of the entire film.

But what praise is that last statement, really? It's a valid question. The Expendables is not a thinking man or woman's film, and doesn't spend overmuch time beating your head in with moral lessons and geo-political commentary. Even The Losers worked harder to establish just why the bad guys were bad and the main characters were just misunderstood. None of that takes away from Rourke's speech, though, and the little details (The focus on his ravaged grill, the way his voice catches and chokes) sell that this is a man who went into Hell, came back out, but was never quite right thereafter.

I feel, though, that all you need to know about the film is this: Arnie and Bruce Willis are uncredited for their appearances in this film. You know they're going to show up, you've seen them in commercials and trailers, but it's still awesome when they do. The exchange between Schwarzenegger and Stallone condenses what one assumes is a lifetime of familiarity by association, and a recognition of one another's physical changes. It sets a tone for how I, at least, want to take the film: as a gathering of men who punch, stab, and shoot things on film. I'd like to envision that between takes Dolph discussed kicks with Li, Stallone and Statham talked about how loud blanks sound when they're going off right by one's head, and so forth. Everyone seems to have been having fun, and even Crews and Couture give performances that make up for in amusement what they might lack in thespian ability.

Ability, though, is on display. There is nothing The Expendables reminds me of so much as Tango and Cash, and not just because the characters have such improbable names (Barney Ross, Toll Road, Ying Yang). Tango and Cash is another film where nearly every line any main character speaks is, in itself, a one-liner; usually met with another one-liner from whomever else is in the film. Everything the villain says oozes menace and contempt, and everything the three female characters in the entire film say....doesn't amount to much.

However, what was somewhat painful in Tango and Cash has largely been remedied here. It's not that the jokes are necessarily more amusing (short of the book sight gag, it was all pretty trite). However, the actors are much, much better. They're universally large men (Though some are shorter than you'd expect, and it was a surprise to see Willis tower over Stallone) with one exception, and Jet Li has a charming monologue where he makes much of his struggles amidst such company ("I'm smaller, I work harder."). They are, in most cases, veterans of the kind of film that requires punching someone over and over while the director yells cut, repositions, and shoots again. In a film directed and co-written by Stallone himself, the crew he's assembled gives a loving send-up to violence, gunfire, and the camaraderie that develops between crews of lovable misfits who don't belong in polite society. I think you already know whether or not you'll enjoy the movie without reading a word of this review, or even seeing a second of the trailer. If the list of names in the film made you say "Fuck YES!" then you're in.

The other advantage that The Expendables has over Tango and Cash is that fight choreography in American cinema has improved by leaps and bounds (Sometimes literally. Thanks David Belle and Cyril Raffaelli!). Statham, Stallone, and Li all get their respective spotlight solo fights, and there is something magical in seeing how different a type of action film each man represents. Stallone is a slab of meat murder machine these days, but that's presented much more engagingly here than in the last Rambo movie, which felt like punishment to watch. He's in a knock-down, drag-out brawl that feels a little Rocky, even if he's not punching Lundgren. Statham doesn't go up against any significant character, but he gets to take on a whole slew of them instead, and do so stylishly and while championing a lady; very Transporter without all the oil and shirtlessness. And Li...well, I won't say much about Li's fight, except that it adds a little bit of humor (in the tradition of Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, and Li himself) without ever failing to be deadly serious. It's telling that Statham and Stallone both have stunt doubles, yet Li has an entire fight team plus a choreographer.

All of the fights are entertaining, and the climactic battle lets every actor show themselves impressively in some way. They mix guns, blades, and knuckles with liberal explosions, are highly kinetic, and rarely flinch-worthy (again, I'm thinking of John Rambo here). I watch for a few things in action movies, like places where a quick cut suggests something went wrong. There is one shot where an explosion seems like it must have gone off too close to Stone Cold Steve Austin (yeah, he's up in this piece too) but, ever the consummate self-stunman, he barely flinches. There's also a single shot where one of the characters, I think Statham, kills a soldier who barely looks 18; I imagine that it's a scene they wish they'd cut from sooner than they did, but it doesn't break the movie.

Like I said, you already know if you like The Expendables. But maybe there's a sentence in here you can use to justify that appreciation to a dubious headshaker in order to get their butt in a seat for the big screen experience.

Movie Musing: Short Circuit 2 and Violence

What the Hell was up with 80's childrens' movies?

Watching Short Circuit 2, I'm struck by the realization that even Resevoir Dogs wasn't this violent. Mr. Blonde only takes an ear...in this, we watch two thugs hack the main character apart. They take an axe to him. Hitting one of the thugs in the ass with a big remote-controlled plane doesn't make that any less horrific.

Then, instead of the sob-filled conversation between a mortally wounded Harvey Keitel and Tim Roth, we get to watch Johnny 5 make his horribly maimed, spark-dripping way down the street to sad violin music. Please recall, this is after he ran through a crowd, screaming out for any sort of help, completely ignored by the confused amateur aereonauts. These are people, note, who watch a man with an axe running through a park and don't think to ask what's happening.

The 'bot can't even talk. When the sleazy swindler feller catches up to him, Johnny has to write on the wall with chalk to communicate that he is dying.

Johnny's triage instructions provide an interesting theological argument: "My memory is me. If it loses power, I die." I would have been 4, maybe 5, when I saw this movie. I'm not sure if a 5 year old needs exposure to that sort of material (though I suppose I'd been going to Sunday school for a time by then).

What renders all of this more ridiculous from the perspective of someone watching in 2010 is that Johnny proudly proclaims he has 500 MB of memory. This heart-wrenching examination of morality and survival is presented in the words of a character with less memory than the flash drive I bought years ago.

Despite, or perhaps because of, all of this, Short Circuit is very much a part of my life. When the villains are hiding their ill-gotten gems they use a bunch of plastic dinosaurs (and at least one Kaiju). I still have two of the creatures sitting on the table during that scene. Rewatching it now, I wrestle with the question of whether or not kids' movies today ought to treat their audience with a similar presumption of maturity. I know there's a vast gulf between G and PG, but I've seen PG-13 movies made in the last five years with less profanity and certainly less visceral violence.

One Piece Makes Me Cry

The plot of One Piece: The Desert Princess and the Pirates: Adventures in Alabasta is functionally identical to that of Lord of the Rings, or even Henry V. When I weep at One Piece, it's no different than when I sob through the entirety of Branaugh's interpretation of that latter tale. The Dancer, the Detective, and the Talking Reindeer saddling up to help their friend in her deadly quest is no different than Falstaff's drunks going to war against France; it's all the same delicious, resonant stuff. Impossible odds, unrepentant villains (some of whom will obviously redeem themselves), and a conflict that will shape the fate of nations.

If you allow One Piece to distract you with its art style, or the unusual characters, you miss the point. I understand that many of the characters are strange and confusing--why is that reindeer wearing a hat, why don't that man's hands ever leave his pockets, what's with the swan-wearing crossdresser? However, if one watches the show without falling prey to these inquiries, the film makes absolute sense.

You needn't be versed in Shakespeare to understand which character is the coward, which character is playing it cool despite being in love with another, and which character is the generally goofy but profoundly driven character. The urbane villain, the misguided rebel, and the doomed retainer...these are all atavistic tropes presented in One Piece just as they are in any other work, but with more swans.

The archetypal nature of the film extends to its plot as well. It's unnecessary to understand why the princess is on a pirate ship; it's unnecessary to comprehend why her most loyal guards can turn into a bird- and dog-man respectively. I don't mean for my readers to mistake my dismissal of the need to understand these things for a rejection of the film's value. It's profoundly the opposite.

The Japanese practice of producing OVAs (Original Video Animation) is something I've come to appreciate. An OVA is usually an addendum to or remix of a successful anime series; a way of saying either "And then this happened..." or "But things might have happened this way..." The most impressive task of OVAs is that they must cram a multi-episode, if not multi-season, storyline into a few brief minutes; even if they aren't theatrical releases, OVAs need to appeal to an audience that might not be well-versed in the background material. As such, OVAs are adept at communicating everything that the viewer needs to know about the actors, and situations, with which they are presented.

The characters are archetypes, the plot is eternal, the Pluton is just a MacGuffin. Once you understand that, One Piece ranks amongst the greatest films of all time...because it's functionally identical to them along all the valences that matter.

Movie Review: Daybreakers

Guys, Daybreakers is really bad. Painfully bad. The same night I rented it (for a dollar, from the bounty of the Redbox) I also purchased three DVDs for a full cost of $10 from the Smith's where I do my grocery shopping. Those films (Knight Club, Spreading Ground, and Meet Market) are all completely unknown to me. I picked up one because it has Dennis Hopper, one because it had Julian McMahon and Alan "The Tudes" Tudyk, and one because it's about a secret organization of bouncers either run, or about to be betrayed, by Lou Diamond Phillips (The box doesn't tell you who stars in each role). I do not anticipate that these will be incredible films, though I suspected each would a bare minimum exceed the quality of Mazes and Monsters, which was an option.

In brief, Daybreakers is about a near future where vampirism is rampant across the entire globe. They never explain where the vampirism comes from, or what it represents (A disease? A curse? Interbreeding?), and frankly I cherish that. One of the biggest frustrations for me in watching vampire films is how much time they tend to devote to explaining all of those things. They’ll have the scene with the cross, or the character conveniently chopping up some garlic for a nice Italian dinner, and then the vampire busts in so the director can confirm or disconfirm some typical vampire myth.

Instead, the film focuses on the prospect of starvation vampires are facing. While we’re presented with a well-ordered, fancy vampire society, news broadcasts and a special meeting make it clear that the human blood supply is running low. The meeting goes further, illustrating how vampires deprived of vampire blood gradually devolve into monstrous, feral bat-men. Ethan Hawke portrays one of the vampires’ top blood researchers, desperately attempting to master an artificial blood system before the humans in the bank all expire and rioting reaches catastrophic levels (In the US; it’s pretty clear that it’s already there in third-world countries). Of course, some plucky humans kidnap Hawke and try to put him to use in their own project.

There are some nice touches. At one point, when a group of humans are taken by the vampire army (Which still recruits using Uncle Sam on its posters), a baby audibly cries in its mother's arms. The audience never sees the child, but it's a subtle reminder of the sheer scope of horror in the vampires' hunger.

I won't pretend the plot isn't interesting; it's a clever reversal of the typical vampire myth, mixed with a little disaster movie and a little zombie movie. Those merits, honestly, could have applied to Ultraviolet as well (The movie, not the British TV show). Daybreakers also has a unique visual style, washed out and pale during the daylight; with a slight retro, WWII aesthetic. Minus the last part, that's reminiscent of Blade; possibly the greatest vampire-killing movie of all time.

However.

I originally had the impression that the human resistance somehow made use of exploding arrows in all of their crossbows, given the pyrotechnics that result from every shot…except for the bolt Hawke takes through his arm at the beginning of the movie. It wasn’t until the film’s last-minute attempt at action, with Hawke running around ramming chair legs into vamp chests, that it became clear vampires simply explode when you poke them…like balloons, if we filled them with fire.

Ethan Hawke ends up dressed like Robin of Loxley, and I can't produce any logical argument as to why. Knight Club, I expect I'll be far more enthused.

A Pop-Culture Inquiry

If the ONLY reasons you're famous are being naked for money and being the girlfriend of Hugh "I have amassed so much awe and respect amongst the men of the world that I never need to get out of my jammies, and despite looking like a bag of chicken bones, people totally buy that I'm plowing a furrow through my many nubile girlfriends," can a tape of you having sex with someone be considered a "scandal?"