Tag: philosophy

Strategic Writing

Found on hoopthoughts.blogspot.com, will credit artist if I can find them

Writing is an odd profession. Writing fiction, even moreso. Most other professions have to start at one place and end at another. Linear progression of a product, from conception to design to implementation and delivery, is the baseline for most items consumed by the public. And while you certainly never pitch an unfinished or unpolished novel to an agent, the creation of what you eventually present does not necessarily need to unfold in a linear fashion.

You may think your novel’s outline is a guideline to how to write it. And, in a sense, it’s true. An outline is a powerful tool. It helps you lay out your plot, determine when and how to develop your characters, when things take a turn for the worse, who lives and who dies and who is left to pick up the pieces. It’s one of the organizational linchpins of the novel, and I for one would be lost without mine.

Just like a general would be lost without a map of the battlefield. And make no mistake, when you write a novel, you go to war.

I don’t mean writing is a horrible, traumatic experience (although it can be); what I mean is, writing is a struggle, day after day, to achieve a goal that will be fighting back against you. It may feel at times that mundane matters of the world are actually conspiring against you, from chores to dayjobs to distractions and things like needing to eat and sleep. We must choose our battles, carve our time out of the enemy lines with sweeping advances of determination, and when we finally cross no-man’s-land into that place where we can write, we have to make the most of the precious ground we’ve gained.

I hope you don’t think this means you have to follow the outline to the letter.

How often do you assault a castle by its heavily defended front gate? Canny generals find a way across the moat to a back door or sluice gate. Some lay siege. Some sow sedition into the enemy ranks. Many positions that seem unassailable do have vulnerabilities, even if it means digging a tunnel or using aircraft. So it is with writing.

If you feel like the writing time you’ve gained is going nowhere, and something you’re trying to work through is resisting your efforts, don’t give up. Try writing at another section. Write the inner monologue of a character. Write gibberish. Just keep writing. The words will come if you keep making them appear on the paper or screen.

Not every day is going to go well, and not every pocket of resistance will expose its vulnerabilities to you. That’s okay. You’re not a failure. Write around it and come back to it later. You have plenty of time, you have the words you need in your head, and you just need to clear some others out of the way so the right ones can come pouring out. If you’re struggling, come at your writing more strategically. Like a conscript in a foxhole at the base of the hill, you may not be able to see to goal, but trust me, it’s there.

Buck up, soldier. It’s an uphill slog from here.

Take Time To Think

The Thinker

Human beings in the modern age love getting things as soon as possible. They seek out the latest gadgets, latch on to concepts that are easy to digest, choose a Big Mac over a slow-roasted side of beef cooked over a fire at home. Be it a burger, a toy or an idea, the less effort you take in its creation and the less responsibility you take for it, the larger a mess you create upon use or consumption.

Rather than go into some of the more provocative areas in which we can see evidence of this, let’s keep the blog focused on gaming and writing. Working with a published adventure is fine. Especially if you’re doing a one-shot adventure at a convention, you don’t need a great deal of backstory to set interested players on their way. I learned that one the hard way. However, if you’re going to present a group of players with a consistent experience on a semi-regular basis, the adventures cannot exist in a vacuum. Backstory, motivations, rewards and penalties all take on more and deeper meaning if there’s something both before and after the dungeon crawl.

It also helps if the elements outside of the in-the-moment experience make sense. You can’t hide a crucial item from the party in an impenetrable room with no visible or hidden entry way, then punish them for not acquiring the item. If you give no evidence of the item’s existence, save for perhaps a mention in local folklore, punishing them for failing to acquire it means you set them up to fail from the very beginning. I hazard to say the DM that does this to their party is a rather poor one.

It’s true for writing, as well. I’ve seen good concepts and interesting setups let down utterly by contrivance, bad characterization and deus ex machina. When you write something and it becomes published or even popularized, to completely ignore it in subsequent works in the same universe is inexcusable. The universe created by the writer, like the adventure presented at the gaming table, does not and should not exist in a vacuum.

That said, I’m not suggesting that every story regardless of length needs a weighty amount of support. A short story works fine on its own if there’s a coherent narrative through-line and the end doesn’t contradict the beginning without good reason. A solid foundation, though, is key when crafting a longer narrative like a novel or a feature film. Especially if there may be more to come in that universe with those characters, the more time you spend getting things right behind the scenes, the better the experience will be for the reader.

In short, it behooves the creative mind to take time to think. Make sure things in the tale make sense. Poke weak points to see where they fail. Smooth over the rough spots as much as possible. Writing, be it a novel or a gaming campaign, isn’t instant gratification. It’s slow, methodical, intellectually challenging work. If you want it done right, that is.


Logo courtesy Netflix.  No logos were harmed in the creation of this banner.


In the course of writing this review, things have gone on a lot longer than I thought they would. So I’m not going to waste any more of your time than necessary today, folks. It’s way too nice outside in eastern Pennsylvania, anyway. So, without further adieu, here follows my review of Dark City, or as I also know it, The Movie The Matrix Tried Really Hard To Be Only To Fail Miserably Especially Due To Two Over-Complicated And Ultimately Useless Sequels.

Courtesy New Line Cinema

The film opens with a man in a bathtub, who wakes to find blood on his forehead and a complete lack of memories. He’s in a hotel room and he receives a phone call telling him that he needs to run, as someone is coming for him who should not find him. Since he also happens to find the mutilated body of a call girl in the bedroom, he doesn’t need to be told twice. He makes his way into the night-time city streets and begins a search for his own identity, which is tied to the mysterious Strangers who are looking for him. A fastidious police detective is hot on his trail, his estranged wife is confused by what’s happening to him, and the psychiatrist who called him to warn him about the Strangers clearly knows more than he’s telling.

And so do I. This is one of those “see it for yourself, that’s all I’m gonna tell you” situations. Those of you who might’ve seen Dark City before probably know why I’m being tight-lipped about the plot, and those of you who haven’t are best served going into this one cold. So rather than talk about the plot’s threads and nuances, allow me a moment to talk about Alex Proyas, the writer and director. His previous work that put him on the map was his film adaptation of James O’Barr’s The Crow. You know, The Crow, Brandon Lee’s last film, perhaps the best heroic-vengeance-from-beyond-the-grave flick ever made? Alex’s type of aesthetic and directorial style shines again in Dark City, which is an ironic choice of words considering how prevalent night-time and the shadows are. Still, it’s a vision that’s every bit as unique as The Crow, and this one sprang like a gothic goddess fully formed from Alex’s head.

One of the things Proyas does best is atmosphere, and Dark City is steeped in it. The architecture, the fog, the clothes and the set design all create a setting that is simultaneously old-fashioned and timeless, both noir and fantastical. And this is before everything begins to change. The way in which the growing buildings, altered states of people’s lives and the manner in which things are altered in this city are rendered in a way that still holds up ten years later. Other than the Strangers choosing to use knives rather than relying on their preternatural abilities, there’s nothing dated or laughable about this film or its design despite its age. Like Blade Runner, it’s going to last quite a long time.

Courtesy New Line Cinema
He might not look the hero type, but just wait…

Another crucial and brilliant component of this film is its cast. Now, I know some people out there weren’t fond of Rufus Sewell’s performance in Dark City, saying he was flat and unemotional. I disagree. For the most part, Rufus’ character needs to rediscover his emotions along with his memories, and since he’s a relatively intelligent guy, he’s doing so in an analytical manner, and to me, he’s never dull and always interesting to watch. William Hurt’s detective is not just interesting, he’s a joy, the sort of smart, hard-nosed cop who just wants the truth no matter what he has to do to get it. Kiefer Sutherland shows a lot of the range that has gone unnoticed during his years as Jack Bauer, here playing a very clever if somewhat cowardly psychiatrist who’s got a particular angle on the whole situation. And Alex Proyas did the entire human race a favor by putting Jennifer Connelly in some slinky lounge singer attire for a few scenes. I mean, she’s a fine actress and I’ve enjoyed just about everything she’s been in including Ang Lee’s Hulk, but damn the girl can burn up a screen.

The real stand-out for me, though, is Richard O’Brien. Savvy watchers, listeners or readers may recognize him as the guy who played Riff Raff in the cult classic phenomenon The Rocky Horror Picture Show. But if you’re expecting camp or humor from him in this film, you are in for a shock. Mr. Hand, his character, is quiet, menacing, thoroughly creepy and disturbingly polite. He’s one of the most effective villainous henchmen I’ve seen in quite some time. He actually comes across as more interesting and more dangerous than the lead villain, Mr. Book (although Ian Richardson does give the big guy some impressive gravitas), and to this day, when he stalks onto the screen, I get chills.

Courtesy New Line Cinema
Seriously. He’s extremely creepy.

I mention that this is the movie The Matrix could have been. Allow me to elaborate on that point for a moment, if you’ll indulge me. The ‘everything you know is a lie’ trick isn’t anything new in cinema. Both Dark City and The Matrix pull the trick for different reasons and while it works in both films, it feels more effective in this one than in The Matrix. I think I can explain why I feel this way without invoking the unfortunate sequels to the latter film. In The Matrix, apart from the clear post-modern philosophical influence primarily attributed to Jean Baudrillard, the dichotomy of the world in which we’re introduced to the characters and the truth behind that world serves as yet another cautionary tale against the emergence of artificial intelligence and how it will doom humanity to servitude or worse to protect humanity from itself. And in the light of the BP oil spill, can you really blame intelligent machines from thinking we’re pretty bad for the planet in general and our existence on it in particular? But I digress.

Proyas doesn’t seem to have a major philosophical influence or point to make, other than supporting a Descartian view of thought informing action and the dichotomy of the body and mind. Rather than concerning itself with delivering jargon salient to this point, Dark City simply presents its characters and themes as they are, baldly stated without hyperbole except for the whole psychic powers angle. The Strangers seem primarily concerned with trying to comprehend minds outside of their own, thus representing solipsism on one side of the debate. While they exist in harmony with what they create, they cannot be certain that those beings that exist within their creation are as real as their own mind. Meanwhile, the characters within the city who are of interest to the Strangers appear to represent a dualist point of view, where all things that exist (implying that they believe the things outside themselves are certain to exist) have a separation between concept and form, between an individual’s body and their anima or animus, to use Jungian terms. I know I’m verging into deep philosophical waters and might be losing some people, and I could probably talk for hours about this stuff, but I think I’ve made my point – Dark City is a lot more interesting than The Matrix, and The Matrix could have been just as interesting if it weren’t based on bad philosophy.

Courtesy New Line Cinema
Do you think CTU would have operated better with Strangers in the ranks?

Pseudo-intellectualism aside, if you have the opportunity, see the director’s cut of Dark City. The theatrical release is by no means bad. The characters, themes, action and storytelling are all intact. What the director’s cut adds is an extra bit of depth, another layer of atmosphere and a slightly less disjointed pace. It takes its time a bit more, setting up the story on the assumption that we’re intelligent people and we don’t need to be told what we’re going to see – we just need to be shown. I get the feeling that the theatrical release was cut the way it was so that Bubba Joe McMoviewatcher wouldn’t be completely lost in the plot’s turns and spirals. But I’ve become something of a story snob since I started reviewing things seriously, so take that opinion for what you will.

I guess what I’m trying to drive at in the midst of all of this is that Dark City is a fantastic film. It ranks highly among other innovative science fiction films like Blade Runner and District 9. The director’s cut, especially, is a highly enjoyable experience in visual storytelling, and it’s not the kind of film where you need to switch off your brain. In fact, the more you engage your mind while watching Dark City, the more you’ll take away from the experience. It’s intelligent, well-shot, well-paced, well-acted visual storytelling. Get it from Netflix, or hell, buy it outright, because you’re getting a lot for your money. I mean, what else is out there that’s worth putting your entertainment money into (other than Splice, apparently)?

Another Super Mario game? A Justin Bieber album? Marmaduke?

Josh Loomis can’t always make it to the local megaplex, and thus must turn to alternative forms of cinematic entertainment. There might not be overpriced soda pop & over-buttered popcorn, and it’s unclear if this week’s film came in the mail or was delivered via the dark & mysterious tubes of the Internet. Only one thing is certain… IT CAME FROM NETFLIX.

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