My previous nemesis left me in the lurch. They turned out to be no match for my powers of sleuth.

They handed over a letter of resignation last night, and today I watched as the removal vans came and picked up the equipment from their lab.

There was no revelation that they were my brother, my father, my sister or me from an alternate universe (or just me in a Fight Club style twist)… there was no duel to the death, no falling from waterfalls entwined in each other’s destiny.

If they were supposed to be an equal but opposite me, a worthy opponent, then I’m left wondering if I too am so feeble. You see, my ego is wrapped up in the idea that my nemesis reflects my ability…

And so a position has become available… do you think you can fill it? You don’t have to be evil, indeed, I’m thinking of giving that side a whirl for now. I have the right credentials and a laboratory that can only be described as ‘dubious’.

You should also understand that I consider this a life-long post, that is one that you may die by holding (mwah, mwah, mwah… sorry… no resignation letters, no crying about ‘the pressure of it all’ like the last one.

Leave your name, and your intentions for saving/dominating the world below.

Did you ever dream of running away to the circus?

What would you have been – A trapeze artist? A bearded lady? A clown?

Not me. It all seems a bit too much like a camping trip on a massive scale. Camping in a tent large enough to contain an elephant. Camping in a tent that does contain an elephant…

Yet somehow I’ve managed to sign up to the nearest thing.  I’ve ended up on tour with a theatre company.

They’re called Imitating the Dog. It might be a Kantian reference, it could be a derivation of ‘copy cat’, it is also, and more likely, something a little more obscene.

For the last week, and the next, I’ve been making my way around the country with them whilst they tour their play, The Bar of Lost Souls. I also did some animation for them.

I’ve been learning plenty about the theatre… such things as ‘never leave even half a glass of wine unattended’ and that 90% of deaths in the theatre come from above. Also, that a lot of the language of the theatre is nautical… something to do with sailors being used to help with the stage rigging… and also a reason why it is bad luck to whistle on stage. Apparently sailors communicate by whistling, and so doing that increases the chance of someone dropping something on you. Death from above, again.

We’ll be in Leeds next week, and then we’re bringing the show home to sunny Lancaster. Feel free to give me a shout if you feel like coming to see it.

…

In other news, and one of the reasons I’ve been a little quiet of late, I have been working on an awful lot of animation work. here, for example is a music video for the rather excellent band The Joy Formidable. There are two versions… one which I made as an animation, and one that was made with the help of editor, Steve Orchard, into a music video… can you tell which is which?

I really like the older generation.

I have a lot in common with them. A slight bemusement with technology, dodgy knees, a love of old-fashioned, coronary inducing Sunday dinners.

The thing is, I don’t really have that many older people in my life. My parents are at the youngest end of quite large families, and so my grandparents had passed long before I was old enough to appreciate them.

I did, for a brief period in my life, have some adoptive grandparents. They belonged to my girlfriend at the time. Everyone else would whine about them… boring, interfering… but I never saw that. I was just so happy to have people in my life that had lived one. I don’t see them any more. I guess I could have gone through a long custody battle, but that would have been just odd.

Which takes me to my point. Vonnegut was my media grandfather.

Media relations (not that type of media relations) are people who you are only related to through a desire to fill a gap in your family, and the ability to put reality towards the back of your mind.

I’m aware of the similarities between having a media relation and just being a stalker. It’s a fine line.

Anyway, Vonnegut fitted the criteria for my surrogate relation. He was a gentleman of a certain age, and had lived a life not unlike some of my real grandparents. Furthermore he was witty and always available for advice. A role model, as such.

Sure, he would tell stories that wouldn’t really go anywhere, and he had a tendency to repeat himself in his later years… Go on, Grandpa, tell us again that story about the Asimov joke at the Humanist Association… But that’s exactly what I was after.

The problem is, even media relations are mortal. And now we’re approaching the third anniversary of his death… And I do miss him, terribly. The world is a little less interesting without him in it.

It makes me wonder if it’s time for me to find a new media grandparent…

I made my new year’s resolution some time towards the end of last year: I was going to spend less time working and more time making things. It’s now nearing the end of January and I find I have three jobs, a full-time university course and a nice line in music videos.

I’m not complaining. In these economically difficult times I feel blessed to be overwhelmed with work, really. However, getting everything to fit in is difficult. Stressful even.

So, I figured I need to merge some of these things to save some time, and one option I have is that I show you some of the artworks I’ve been making during my course. Not all of them are funny, and some of them are even in colour… but first I wanted to know how you felt about that.

Also, as always, I’ll be showing off my video work here too. Here’s one I made earlier…

But above it all, I have to remember my reason for starting this comic, which was to use it as a place to relax and get away from all other other stuff, the grind, and do something that amused me.

With that in mind I’m asking you to show me stuff that amuses you, funny videos, pictures, whatever does it for you (within reason). And I’m going to share two of my current favourites:

Happy New Year, and welcome to the future.

Let’s start the year off as I mean it to continue… by me asking you to put your collective brains together to create one large, fleshy supercomputer.

That didn’t sound as icky in my head.

I’m embarking on a project this year, looking at the ways in which people relate, emotionally, to technology… and I wondered if you could help. In return, I want to get you involved, so that in October, when I have to show the results of my research, I can give you all some credit.

I know, not much of a prize.

Anyway, the first thing I need might take a little effort. I’m trying to find the first people to find love through the internet. You see, I’m fascinated that something military in origin could have been usurped by basic human desires. I figure this is a six degrees thing, like Kevin Bacon, but without the poor track record (resolution number one… stop kicking Bacon when he’s obviously down). So, do you know a couple that met through the internet, do you know someone who does? I’m presuming this must have happened in the early 90s.

Similarly, any information you can give me to help me track down any of those digital love pioneers, websites etc., will also be useful.

The second thing is that throughout the year I’m going to be collecting photographs of people with their favourite piece of technology. All I need is a photograph of the two of you, with both of your names attached. I’m being presumptuous and guessing that you give your technology names, but we covered this last year when I asked about it.

Again, get involved and you’ll get credit and a shout out in the final project, not as contributors, but as collaborators.

Finally, if anyone has any ideas on how to explore the relationship between people and technolgy… is there something you’ve noticed that you think I haven’t? Do you have any thoughts on the subject? Let me know.

I’ve been catching up on some game playing. Primarily the adventures of Hershel Layton. Professor Layton and Pandora’s Box is based in a time when an Englishman could travel around with a young boy who wasn’t his close relative without being arrested or lynched. It’s based in a time when almost all problems can be solved with a cup of tea and a relaxing bout of puzzle solving.

But how would you solve this problem… your family is starving and you have no money?

Would you steal?

It’s a presumptuous question… I’m presuming you haven’t stolen anything before. I mean, the question would then be, ‘what did you steal?’.

Don’t worry, I won’t judge you. I’ve stolen loads over the years… mostly from my places of employment. Paper, pens, computer components, contacts, dignity… I’ve even stolen the likeness of copyrighted characters.  That’s probably the one I’ll go to hell for.

Oh, this has become a confessional…

The reason I ask is that there is a small storm brewing over the comments of Father Jones. You can see the details of the story here, but essentially he told his congregation that if they were going to steal, they should steal from big chain stores as opposed to family run businesses.

I don’t normally share the views of the church, but this seems like really sound advice from someone wearing a dog collar. I’m not advocating stealing… and neither was Father Jones. He was talking about people who need to feed themselves through crime, the really desperate. And the interesting thing is that even in such a civilised place as the United Kingdom, we still have people who need to resort to some grim measures.

The reason why I think this is such an amazing thing to say isn’t that it highlights the hypocrisy of the church (as some people have suggested… apparently something in the Ten Commandments says something about not stealing), rather it shows that a member of the church can rally against the institutional dogma and apply Christian teachings to the real world.

It’s a Christmas miracle.

Really, it is.

You see, whether he meant to or not, Father Jones has sanctioned non-voluntary charity. By saying that people should steal from big chains, the result is that the big chains put their prices up, meaning that those of us who can afford to buy food bear the burden of those that cannot. It’s almost a non-governmental welfare system that works.

Sure, it’s open to abuse, and Father Jones wasn’t talking about robbing a widescreen TV from Asda… but that aside, I think the guy deserves a medal, not as a religious man, but as a humanist and a realist.

So yes, here is my slushy, sentimental Christmas related message, the moral dressed in red and green…

…if you see the homeless and the poor this Christmas, you know what to do. Go and help them… go and help them ram-raid a petrol station, God will thank you.

Happy Christmas,

Ad

I’m trying to be quite brave. I’m trying to write a post without pressing the spell-check button.

I can see how technology has made me lazy – it brings the world to my door, negating the need for these legs to do much more than propel my chair to swivel whilst I’m waiting for things to load or install. It corrects my mistakes and reminds my now feeble memory when it is time to do things.

And I quite like this laziness.

But there’s one thing that I can’t abide becoming – a lazy artist.

And by that I don’t mean being too lazy to pick up a brush, or to colour in between the lines, I actually mean being lazy, mentally.

For instance… I could spend my time thinking about how to approach subjects people haven’t broached before and how to render them, artistically. Or I could lean on an old topic that has plenty of media popularity.

I’m not saying that you shouldn’t create art about the environment, or racism or homophobia… these things need looking into… but you should only ever do it in response to your own experiences. Don’t jump in there just because it’s easy. And for god’s sake don’t preach unless you’re as close to prefect as you demand.

Don’t slap the panda…

That’s right, slapping the panda – it’s a euphemism for the needless adoption of art to press home a point everyone already knows.

And making that video has helped me realise that my snobbery on correct spelling and grammar has probably been a little misplaced. Everyone knows that there is a right and a wrong way to write certain things, they don’t need me banging on about it… and even when I do, it’s not going to change anything. Instead, I’m going to make sure that I spend that energy keeping a check on my own writing.

It was a preposterous theory, but one that I wish was true – that a particle is sabotaging a machine from the future to stop itself being discovered.  It’s what happens when scientists watch too much scifi. Thank the Terminator franchise for that one.

That said, it makes me wonder how much of what NASA does is inspired by pulpy novels with lurid covers and weekly TV episodes with shaky sets.

There’s an article here that suggests that the answer to that is probably more than you’d expect… Computers, face recognition technology, cloning…

But that raises a very interesting point. That era of sci-fi is arguably more optimistic than some of our current fare, especially the stuff that makes it into popular culture. Take Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. There’s a grim tale…

In fact, a few films I’ve seen recently have had a distinctly anti-technology bias. Gamer and Surrogates stand out. They raise questions of how far we actually want technology to interfere with our lives, and whether we are ready for a world in which the boundaries between mechanical and organic are blurred… and if we really want more of Bruce Willis.

Do we really want more of Bruce Willis?

I suppose what I’m getting at is this… have we finally finished with the idea that technology will solve our problems and help us live more fulfilling and varied lives and adopted?

Is the hoverboard – a symbol of technology that we are (still) waiting for – becoming less of a cool way of getting around and more of a sinister ploy to destroy our legs before enslaving the human race?

It would be really handy if someone or something would travel from the future to tell us which.*

__________________________________________

* special note – beware of falling for the Great Joe Bivin’s trick: “Walk into a room looking slightly disorientated (and possibly naked) before asking for the date and then, upon the reply, shouting the phrase, ‘it worked!’.”

Now, I don’t live in a particularly hostile urban environment. The sunless town of Lancaster is, on its worst days, pretty mild.

Every so often I find myself indulging in slightly risky behaviour, either through a false sense of security or because even the residents of such a sedate place need to test their adrenal glands now and then.

A couple of months ago I was taken by surprise.

Just past midnight, I made my way home along a well lit street in a nice neighbourhood after an evening in with my friends and a few beers… Minimal risk, really.

So it was a shock when I found myself throw into a doorway by a group of youths.

One of them, I guess the leader based on the fact he was the only one that spoke (perhaps he was the only one that could speak) started spewing some really homophobic language. You know the type – the sort that makes you think that the person shouting it is obviously gay and repressed and has chosen to deal with this fact by projecting his intimate desires onto everyone else… particularly strangers.

Fortunately, I was in quite a good mood. The beers had made me rather jolly and relaxed and as a result I felt pretty calm when normally I would have been freaking out.

‘What’s this about gentlemen?’ (yes, I used the word gentlemen… on reflection not only was this inaccurate but probably served as provocation)

‘Give us a cigarette’, said the leader. One of his group, a particularly tall lad held out his hand.

‘I don’t have any’, I replied. This was true, I didn’t.

‘What money do you have?’

‘I’m sorry but we’re out of luck there too, I don’t have any’. This was mostly true. I had about fifty pence in change in my pocket.

At this point I realised that I was being mugged… however, due to the fact that I had nothing of value on me, it was an ill-advised mugging. We stood there for a few moments in silence. They were obviously weighing up what to do next, they were out of ideas and this was not going well, and I was just waiting to see where it went.

I should add that at this juncture I had realised that I might be in for a kicking… it seemed like a perfectly reasonable way to end a failed mugging and save face for all concerned. This was not to be the case though.

One of the little troopers rushed over and grabbed my glasses. Genius. They all started running.

Now, as I’ve said, I had drunk a few beers. Sober Adam would have cut his losses and wandered off home in a blurry manner. But I was not sober, and the adrenaline had kicked in. I ran after them.

One thing you should know. I’m not really a marathon runner. Sprinting, I’m fine, but any distance and I’m in trouble.

If only they had kept running for a while longer they would have left me panting and myopic. But I guess they got spooked. One of them stopped dead and handed out my glasses.

‘Sorry mate’.

‘That’s OK… but why the glasses? They’re not worth much to anyone else’.

He just shrugged and started running to catch up with his friends. I turned around and walked home. Strange night.

I keep thinking that I’ll bump into them again one night, though I haven’t seen any of them since. I wonder what it’ll be like… will we reminisce about the time they tried to mug me and failed? Will they give it another go? Either way I’m happy to report that I’m not at all scared. If anything I see it as a new sport, like fox hunting without the horses, or the fox.

I made this comic as a guest strip for Chain Bear a little while ago, but thought I’d share it with you here. I know, it’s a little purile, but it made me giggle drawing it.

So, then, I’m going to use this post to show you what you are all up to at the moment… Think of it as me holding up a slightly cracked mirror…

Brandy is currently writing some cracking things here at parkerbetz.com, including some really neat horror haikus. Shes also taking part in PaBeShStMo… and if you want to know what that is, I suggest you head over there.

Aliens:

Sigourney’s mullet

“Get away from her, you bitch”

Bishop is the king.

Parkerbetz.com

OK, next is Roo…  He’s been up to all manner of things science-based and yest still has time to start a new webcomic, The Skies of Home. Go on, check it out.

Ben is becoming a friend of the birds…

Check out some more similarly fantastic photographs here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/brokentoyshop/

Ambroziac is… well, barking mad… and it’s a very good read: http://donaldambroziak.com/

TNP Press has added some more new comics to the roster. They are also going to be present at APE.

Erika Hammerschmidt is still creating Abby and Norma as well as creating some lovely pieces of art.

Sitting Pugs is very much traversing the divide between sports and films (and possibly sports films).

Franzy is being a smart-ass and is now caffeinated.

Mr Cousin created this rather obscure line:

The reason for the abandonment of 600 type film – let’s not forget after a single evening – is unknown.

And The Great Joe Bivins has been promoted to The Awesome Joe Bivins after finding music from his youth.

Haven’t you all been busy? Give yourself a pat on the back in the name of productivity. Well done.

I know I’ve probably missed a couple of you out here… it’s not intentional and doesn’t reflect in any way what I think of your work… rather I have run out of time… This, therefore is an open thread on what you’ve been up to and what you’ve been making and doing.

You may have noticed a slight lack of updates recently… or, to put it in non-bloggy terms, a lack of comics. That’s because I’ve become a student again and as such I’ve been a bit busy.

I have been making some art though, which I was planning on showing you, but after looking at it I’ve decided there is no way I can reveal it to the word.

Is it because it’s a secret?

No.

Is it because by showing you I risk causing you mental, even physical anguish?

No.

Is it because it’s a bit rubbish?

Yes.

My tutor sat down and took a look at all of my work, the comics, the animations and some other things I’ve put together, and decided that I really like working in small scale two-dimensional black and white ink-based images.

‘Follow me’, he said, as he headed down to the store room. When we got there I was handed a pack of coloured pastels and two huge pieces of very nice textured paper.

An experiment in colour and scale.

The experiment, as I have mentioned, failed. I created a pair of horrible contorted mutants in colour… and like all mutants created under experimental conditions, they have now been locked up in a basement, facing a wall and never to see the light of day again.

However, as a reflective exercise on the nature of creating art it was rather useful. I now know that I hate pastels and that my technical ability with them is terrible. I also remembered why I love ink so much, the fluidity that leads the drawing. Plus, and this is the biggest shocker for me, I found that I quite liked working with colour. It’s pretty.

I want to ask you about your experiences with art materials… what does it for you and what doesn’t… and have you ever found yourself creating a monster?

Oh, and the comics… We’re back on track… I’m thinking of going up to three a week again with the Sunday strips being 3-celled… I have a few in reserve too.

I held off making a comic this last week or so because I’m not in possession of my pens and paper. But as I’m still not able to get at them I thought I’d have to go digital this once…I’ll come back and draw this in ink when I get the chance.

Actually I think I’m suffering withdrawal symptoms from the pens. I guess those fumes are addictive after all.

I’ve just moved house again… my things are wrapped carefully in cardboard and stored in a room far, far away. I didn’t really plan this one very well. This has caused a few problems. Mostly, I’ve been living with a minimal tool set for the last couple of weeks – A toothbrush, toothpaste, a change of clothes and a mug.

Spreading butter on my toast was not a fun experience.

Very McGuyver.

So, as he would create some fantastic device from an elastic band, a straw and a paperclip, I’m going to pluck a question out of several badly formed paragraphs… What is the best device you’ve ever constructed… or the best use for something that it wasn’t built for?

I recently attended the christening of my nephew, the fantastic Stan…

These days it’s quite rare for me to be found in a house of God. His furniture is hard, his wine is weak and I’m not really a big fan of his music.

As a non-believer I always find being in church a little strange – like I’m being hypocritical or somehow devaluing the beliefs of the people around me.

However, christenings are different.

When you take away the religious setting and the mythical basis for the ritual, what you actually have is a group of people – family and friends – all coming together to make a promise to partake in the upbringing of a child. That’s pretty cool.

So, I’ve taken it upon myself to be responsible for a secular role in Stan’s life. To some of the people at the christening I may be ‘uncle Adam, the one who’s going to hell’, but to my nephew, I hope to be ‘uncle Adam, the one who’s still going to hell but is happy to ask questions about why that should be’.

EDIT: Due to requests, I’ve made this strip available as a print in a cafepress shop : http://www.cafepress.com/Flowfieldshop

Any profits from the sale of these prints will be put into an account for Stan that can be used at any time to fund the buying of scientific texts.

Tinned or canned food… it’s fascinating.

No, really, that was said without a hint of sarcasm.

It’s probably one of the greatest achievements of modern civilisation… Our great wonder. The thing that will probably remain in some form long after we are gone, alongside the mountains of plastic buried beneath the earth.

BC – Before Canning – food preservation was a pretty sad affair. Salting and smoking and drying. All reasonable enough for preserving food, but each changing the taste of the item preserved.

Admittedly, blasting a foodstuff with radiation or pasteurising it to within an inch of its integrity may alter the taste a little…but I think it does so in a good way… I like tinned food.

It’s an icon too. Warhol knew this… the uniformity of the modern vector for food is an ideal poster child for the industrialisation of art.

Remove a label from a can and what do you have? A mystery time capsule to be hurled into the future unknown.

And that’s what I have in my hand now. A naked can, containing godknowswhat. I can’t remember buying it and I certainly can’t remember what is in it… Perhaps I didn’t buy it, perhaps the previous tenant of this flat bought it and left it for me…

So what do I do, shall I open it to satisfy my own curiosity, do I keep it for a later date should I need it or do I put it back in the cupboard, and leave it there as I move out of this place (yes, I’m moving again) for the next occupant to wonder and ponder?

Last time we talked about The Flowfield Unity as a rescue home for slightly less than popular monsters… well, it hasn’t worked out and quite frankly I’m now overrun by them.

Normally, the sort of monsters I’m used to dealing with are uninvited insects and such, and my weapons of choice include whatever happens to be at hand. That’s why the last time I had to deal with a particularly large spider (I don’t like them and it was massive, honestly, massive) I could be seen looning around in my dressing gown carrying a broom handle and a can of deodorant.

Anyway, that’s the question… I’m overrun with monsters and I need to find ways to ‘neutralise’ them… what do you suggest?

Now mostly a gun will do the trick, but I want to look cool (as the do in those horror film things) whilst doing such a thing, so points will be awarded for style and irony.

There’s always a monster of the moment – whether it was the vastly popular zombie of last year or the re-emergent vampire of this… but all fail to compare to the omnipresent greater evil that is Cthulu.

Which is why I chose to make my next animation zombie-based:

OK, so my timing isn’t great, I’m at least a monster behind, but that’s no reason to worry. I recently received a great item of great evil through the post – A Cthulu tentacle scarf:

It’s made by the wonderful Rebecca from Creeplings (and thanks to Calan of Gingerdead for putting me in touch). I suggest that you check out the shop, it’s very good.

OK, back to the monsters. I nearly bought Pride and Prejudice with Zombies the other day. Then I had the idea that as one thing leads to another it wouldn’t be long before I ended up reading We The Undead by Ayn Rand… and no one wants that.

But I have been thinking that really zombies and vampires have dominated the media in terms of creepies in the last few years, decades even, and Cthulu has had a massive Internet following for a fair while too… perhaps it’s time we support an underdog. So my question is, which is the most neglected agent of darkness? Think of The Flowfield Unity as being like a donkey sanctuary, except for something that stalks in the night

Medication and animation,,,

Well, it’s been a long time coming, and I know some of you have been holding your breath (see, tangential link to the comic), but I’ve finally managed to get the first Flowfield Unity animation sorted.

Tada!

I think it’s pretty close to the original strip and it certainly looks like my drawings… I’m taking that as a good thing for now. They are what I’m calling ‘micromations’ – very short animations, less than a minute in length. They’re good for those of us with attention deficits.

I’ve also got several more waiting in the wings, made from a few of my favourite strips. I’m hoping to release them over the next few weeks.

Thank you to all of you that have already responded and rated the animation on youtube… you’ve been very kind, and as always, that sort of feedback goes a long way in encouraging me to make more of them.

If you have any favourite strips that you’d like to see  feel free to let me know and I’ll see what I can do.

In the meantime, breathe easy my geek brethren.

Nominative determinism… it sounds like a very hungry zombie to me.

I share the same level of fascination with it as the wonderful New Scientist, who have been running a list of such people for years, on and off.

There is the phlebotomist friend of mine who has the surname of Blood, or the vicar of the local church who is called… Tom McVicar.

Indeed, it used to be the other way around, that you were given a surname because of your profession… hence the proliferation of Smith (as in blacksmith)… or because of where you lived, Lancaster, for example.

I’m not sure what that would make my surname now… Adam Inkandstuff, probably. What about you?

As it stands, Gregory, is pretty apt. Apparently Greek in origin and means ‘Watcher’ or ‘Watchful’… how the Greeks new of my love of television I’ll never know (the guys in the basement are really behind schedule on the time machine…).

The thing I’m wondering about, and interested to know from you, is to what extent has your name determined your course in life? Did it influence where you sat at school and who you became friends with? Has it caused you to be mistaken for someone else? Do you have a name that is in any way related to your profession?

Oh, and as a side note, this is probably the first time I have mentioned John Carpenter here. I would have thought he might have cropped up before. So, which is his best and worst films, or woodwork projects?

If you’ve noticed that I’ve been quiet for the last week, then you might also like to know the reason for my silence was that I had the swine ‘flu.

Let’s catch up shall we?

I don’t know if the sarcasm comes across in the comic… I hope it does. The point I was trying to make, I guess, is that really, these new pandemics seem to be rather mild – partly due to vast improvements in medicine and understanding – yet we still treat these relatively minor outbreaks with all the same hysteria.

I’m better now… not that I was particularly devastated by it in the first place. It was a strange illness… the first time I have had a ‘flu with all the symptoms except for the streaming rivers of mucus.

This made the whole thing feel more like a hangover than anything else. Even so it didn’t stop me whining about it making ‘urgh’ noises whenever I had to move and generally moping around.

I went out one day in bright sunshine wearing my long coat. I was asked if I was hot in it to which I replied, ‘Yes… no… yes… no… …’. Temperature fluctuations eh?

Anyway enough of that.

I have other news too. I’m not the only Gregory making a bid for fame an fortune these days. My father recently made it onto the BBC news:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/lancashire/8141054.stm

That’s right, he’ll never be able to grace the bonnet (US: Hood) of a car again without some serious ‘nam style flashbacks. He’s OK by the way.

And then there’s the animation too – Using my sickness to some benefit, I’ve finally sat down to start animating some of the Flowfield Unity strips. I should mention that if you have any favourites you’d like to see in animated form, just let me know. I’m a little overwhelmed by the sheer number of them and so have been selecting in a rather arbitrary manner.

The big breakthrough came in finding someone to narrate the animations. I did consider doing it myself, but then I would have to listen to my own voice repeatedly as I worked on the drawings, and I already have quite enough of that.

So, that’s mostly what I’ve been up to, what about you?

ADDITIONAL (30/07/2009) – Upon re-reading this post (yes, I do read them from time to time) I realise that about 30% of my commas are missing.

Had I lost my powers of punctuation? Had someone stolen them?

Upon checking I’ve now found that my keyboard is a little bit broken – just that one key and not all of the time.  I was tempted to correct the missing punctuation, but figured that it made this strip a little more believable…

James Cameron may have been working on Avatar for over a decade, but even back when he started, the idea of exploring (and frequently destroying) strange new worlds with the use of controlled characters was not a new concept. Back in those days though, we just called them computer games.

So, and feel free to join in, here are a few of my favourite avatars from the ancient days…

1. Eddie Honda

Sure, he was a little tubby, and not exactly quick on his feet, but when I became Honda-san I was a pretty mean fighter. It seemed that for the greatest degree of success, all I had to do was mash one of the buttons on the gamepad repeatedly until my avatar performed the hundred hand slap move.

2. Rick Dangerous

I could have picked Sonic, or even Mario, for my platform related adventures, but for some reason Rick captured a special place in my heart. Perhaps it was because I could play with him on my ZX Spectrum +2, treading where the blue spiky one and the jumping Italian stereotype did not. Plus, those trippy colours probably were addictive on some level.

3. Bub (but not Bob)

One of the most important things you need to know about your avatar is that they are going to do what you want them to. There’s no point in having one if it is going to go wandering off of its own accord or start jumping randomly… Maybe I had a buggy version of Bubble Bobble, maybe my second joystick port was a bit dodgy… or maybe Bob was a poor excuse for a blue, bubble blowing dinosaur.

4. Link

As far as interfaces for controlling your avatar go, none will ever compare to the N64. I was in Hyrule! I was riding Epona! I was battling giant boss monsters! I was wandering around for hours trying to solve a puzzle because I’d missed an apparently obvious switch earlier in the dungeon.

Whether it is a zombie plague, alien invasion or the dawn of our robotic masters, it’s probably best that you learn at least one Morse code signal – SOS.

It doesn’t mean ‘save our souls’…. nor does it mean ‘survivors on shore’ or ‘save our ship’.

For a start, the international distress signal, SOS, was first used by the Germans in 1905, and I doubt they had the foresight to create a distress call as an English acronym. There are no spaces between the ‘letters’ either… dot-dot-dot-dash-dash-dash-dot-dot-dot.

It doesn’t really stand for anything other than what it is – a distress call (or Notzeichen in German).

But that’s not to belittle it. It is the best distress call.

The greatness of SOS is partly due to the what it inherits from mose code. An almost binary method of communication that can, with a little effort, be easily read and created by humans in a number of ways – electrically, sonically and via sound and light… or eyelids.

It is the best distress call. Sort of…

I’m assuming that when it all kicks off (and science fiction doesn’t lie… it will kick off) everyone will use SOS, leading to a virtual static of distress. So how will I know when you, my international Internet friends, are in trouble? I propose an extra distress call, to be used in conjunction with SOS, so that we can identify each other.

Any ideas what it should be?

I once started to write a novel. The opening paragraph went something like this:

Two men stand urinating, shoulder to shoulder, in Euston Station’s public toilets. However, the next time they meet only one of them would be holding his penis.

I didn’t say it was a good novel.

But I’ve always been struck by the etiquette of public toilets. Civilisation, as much as it has advanced, is still tethered by the fact that we can’t escape our bodily constraints…

I’m not talking about cubicles (here’s a tip for you who prefer a fresher bowl – statistically the cleanest cubicle is the one nearest the entrance door), rather the urinals.

I think it’s safe to say that of the common types, perhaps the most bestial is the trough. The one where you get a constant flow of other peoples urine passing you by as you create your own.

Yet despite this, there are still strict social conventions to follow – When selecting a urinal, or a place at the trough, it’s the done thing to calculate the maximum distance from any other users… don’t just wander up next to someone else in mid flow when you could be stood at the other side of the room.

Similarly, conversation is frowned upon, as is looking anywhere other than directly ahead, at the wall in front of you.

And talking… not the place, much less so for laughing too, for fear that you will instill an embarrassing case of bashful bladder in your comrades.

Then there are the intricacies… you walk into the room and the only one left is the obligatory child-height urinal. Do you use that, or do you wait for a more reasonably positioned one to become free?

The anxiety of performing a faux pas.

Fortunately it’s not all stress. There are plenty of things to keep you amused. Sure, in some of the more impressive modern facilities they even have television screens placed conveniently over that bit of wall you used to have to stare at. But even in the more low-fi establishment you can find reading material in the form of graffiti (again, depending upon the sort of place you are, some of them read like a phone book of obscenity).

My favourite piece of writing is the usually placed at the bottom of cubicle doors, by the gap, that reads, ‘beware limbo dancers’. There are some better ones here, at The Writings on the Stall.

Failing that, the cleaners very generously place urinal cakes for you to aim at, to pass the time as you pass.

In days gone by these would have been accompanied by cigarette butts, giving enough pieces to create elaborate board games, similar to table hockey.

I guess I’m just a little disappointed that we haven’t really advanced, or found a better solution for dealing with this particular function. Surely the time is up and the writing is on the wall…

So you stole the DeLorean, travelled back in time and assassinated a celebrity…

You’re going to have to explain yourself. Who was it, when did you do it, and what good were you hoping to achieve by offing them?

Science fiction… 

Let’s call it speculative fiction.

I’ve been thinking about it since the Sci Fi Channel changed it’s name to shed the connotations of geekery– SyFy (That’s right, it only makes a difference when said aloud).

“The name Sci Fi has been associated with geeks and dysfunctional, antisocial boys in their basements with video games and stuff like that, as opposed to the general public and the female audience in particular”

Tim Brooks, TV historian

Yet it has been a great few years for science fiction, on television, in the cinema and in print media. That stereotypical view of geeky basement boys rolling dice and reading about aliens hasn’t been true for decades and still it persists in the mind of marketing departments… 

You know what I think? I think it’s a double bluff… Here, have a look at this list of the top 40 grossing films to date, notice how many of them feature aliens, alternate universes, genetic experiments or comic book characters?

Sci-fi is mainstream, and clearly has been for a while.

So, why do the marketing boys and girls make such a fuss about making it accessible to a greater demographic?

Without wanting to sound like I’m filled with some sort of X-files-ridden paranoia, I’m going to suggest that it’s because they know that, numerous as we are, fans of science fiction like to feel as if they belong to some exclusive club – That we enjoy the connotations of geekery and that when it comes down to it, we get off, a little, on that smug, warm feeling that we are a little superior.

I suppose what I’m trying to say is, that despite rumours to the contrary, we are not alone.

Perhaps we’ll never know what makes the contents of our craniums so attractive to zombies… the gooey centre? The sound of a cracking skull?

They seem happy enough to eat it, but for some reason they never fill in the feedback forms, and generally seem to dislike being interviewed or asked to partake in focus groups.

I think it could be that they don’t know any better, that no one has shown them the delights of pizza or chocolate. My reason being that if they really were only interested in brain, they would have found some way to catch whales.

The human brain is typically about 1500g, now compare that to a sperm whale, a creature that carries around 7800g. If brain is your thing (and I believe it is for those of you shuffling at the back there) the whale seems like a far better prospect.

What’s that? You can’t swim? OK, could I interest zombie sir in the elephant?

The Asian elephant packs a hefty 7500g  into its skull.

… or maybe it isn’t about pure size, but perhaps the ratio of brain to body mass. Humans have a surprisingly high ratio, about 2.1% of our body mass is brain. The whale fares less well with about 0.008%. 

But if that is the case then the true delicacy of the zombie world would be the common mouse with 3.2% of its body mass attributed to its brain.

I’ve never seen a zombie nomming on a mouse, perhaps we should point it out to them to save ourselves.