Ken and Robin Talk About Stuff: Cherubs Who Have Aged Out

In the latest episode of our well-provisioned podcast, Ken and I talk RPG gear, Angela Merkel's cellphone, story structure bookshelf and the Voynich Manuscript.

Ken and Robin Talk About Stuff: No One Likes a Blood Frenzy

In the latest episode of our high-flying podcast, Ken and I talk true place names, fictional stakes, iconic conflicts and Nazi UFOs.

90% Vampires

As someone who has himself been guilty of diagramming out narrative structures, I recently had my attention directed to an infographic alleged to depict the thematic content of a particular book. On first glance, this looks cool, and not unlike the slow downward progress of a Hamlet’s Hit Points beat analysis map.

When you check out what it actually measures, the wonkiness surfaces. Welcome to the blissfully obtuse world of the Book Genome Project, which measures the quantity of certain tropes and motifs, which it seems to think are the same thing as themes. It bases itself on the already peculiar assumptions of the Music Genome Project, which powers the Pandora streaming service. The MGP thinks that people choose music based on abstract, objective criteria like “major key tonality” or a “dynamic male vocalist.” Actually we respond more according to cultural aspiration, identity formation, and the indefinable talent of people working within the styles we’re already drawn to. When Pandora works, it’s because of its user fine-tuning.

Gene-sequenced music seems downright on-point compared to judging a book by the quantity of attention given to a motif or trope in a work of literature. This leads to such hilarity as the following gem, from the Book Lamp FAQ. (BISAC is the standard subject header system, as seen on a book’s front matter page.)

A book with 90% Vampires is a very different book than one with 5% Vampires, but both would probably receive the same label in the BISAC classification. 

Clearly the above was typed by an android.

We as readers might respond to certain tropes and motifs, seeking some and staying clear of others. But they are externals, and tell us nothing about why one story using a motif becomes a staple of the canon and countless others vanish from the collective imagination.

Believe me, I didn't want to take the glasses off for this one. But if we’ve learned nothing else here today, vampires are not a theme!

When In Doubt, Remind Him He’s a Dwarf

Welcome again to Scene Study, where we break down dramatic scenes in recent popular entertainment as they might play out in DramaSystem.

In the Game of Thrones episode “The Night Lands” (Season Two, Episode 2) [stop here if you don’t want to know] Tyrion Lannister tries to assert his new authority as the king’s right hand over his contemptuous and headstrong sister Cersei, regent and mother to the young king. After a power play in which he banishes her chosen head of the city guard in favor of his own candidate, he renews his effort to school her in the politic realities of her tenuous position. Unfortunately, his default tactic, the deployment of withering wit, proves less than effective in this case. After a snide reference to her incestuous relationship with their brother Jamie, she furiously excoriates him—blaming him for their mother’s death giving birth to him, and once again reminding him that he’s a dwarf.

If Tyrion’s player is the scene caller, his intention is to extract a concession from Cersei, admitting that he deserves and is equipped to use the power their father has vested in him. Cersei refuses to grant his petition, so he gets a drama token as a consolation.

If Cersei’s player is the caller, her intention is to browbeat the upstart Tyrion, earning an apology and continuing free reign at court. Despite the virulence of her outburst, he blocks her as surely as she blocks him. In this framing, it is Cersei as refused petitioner who gets the drama token.

Momentum, With or Without Fiery Motorcycles

Okay, so I was stoked for a Neveldine / Taylor take on Ghost Rider. Here’s how to enjoy Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance. Wait for DVD or another fast-forwardable medium. Skip every moment, except for those in which a) something is on fire or b) Nicolas Cage is delivering lines (voice over not included.)

The goal of Johnny Blaze, like so many Marvel heroes, is to stop being the character we’ve signed up to see. He becomes a tag-a-long in his own movie, with the weirdo priest Moreau, played by Idris Elba, supplying most of the motivation. For a movie patterned on Terminator 2, in which the hero has to stop the devil from capturing a child, there’s way too much explanation going on. In other words, the script, apparently cut down from a much more elaborate version predating the original film, sadly leaves the duck in.

It’s still way better than the first one, low bar that this may be. The action is agreeably gonzo and there are some great gags. For additional entertainment value, imagine that this Johnny Blaze is not the guy from the first movie, but rather a cursed version of the Cage character from Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans. Hey, they both went out with Eva Mendes.

I bring this up not to slag the movie, but to look to the lesson in narrative construction it provides. Films, action flicks in particular, live and die not only on the content of the set pieces, but on the momentum between scenes. Whether they build in one direction, or converge from two or more, it’s the way the scenes connect that keep us engaged.

This doesn’t apply only to films featuring flaming skull-headed vigilantes. The genius of Citizen Kane, and the  propulsion it sustains despite its achronological story order, derives from the brilliance of its scene transitions.

Here lies a key distinction between movies and roleplaying sessions. In the latter, players value freedom of choice and action over momentum. They want to control the pace, often stopping to slow it down so they can go back and add interstitial action a screenwriter would cut to elide. For the GM, the trick is to ensure that the action moves a median pace that splits the difference between methodical players and those who prefer to keep it moving.

Link Round-Up: New Policy, Three-Act Cat

In a world of ever-declining standards, sometimes it becomes necessary to draw a line.

And, look, I don’t normally do this. But what can I say? I’m a sucker for a perfect three-act structure: