Fifteen, perhaps?

Oh, surely it will take more than ten years for that...

- Sid

 

"Cause I Ain't no Hologram Girl…"

There has to be something in marketing DNA that makes them willing to explore any avenue, no matter how bizarre it may appear, in the interests of making a buck off some previously unexplored segment of the public.  (The first time that I really became aware of this was when I stumbled across a reference to the Hello Kitty* vibrator.)

The most recent - and more family-friendly - entry in this category comes to us courtesy of the good people over at Lucasfilm in co-operation with Microsoft, a combination which right off the bat makes me a little nervous.

And justifiably so, as it turns out. Lightsaber combat is an obvious candidate for the new Microsoft Kinect gaming system, although my first impulse would be to make damn sure that all the fragile vases and lamps were as far as possible from the Xbox.  But why stop there?  What about all the people who would rather solve their conflicts in a more, I don't know, musical manner?

And so, I give you the Kinect Star Wars Dance Mode, complete with moves like the Chewie Hug, the Speeder, the Force Push, the Trash Compacter, and the Mind Trick.  Yes, you too can compete as Han Solo, Darth Vader, Princess Leia or Emperor Palpatine in an epic dance-off that will settle the fate of the galaxy!!!!

Or not.  Frankly, in retrospect the whole thing makes me feel a lot more charitable towards Jar Jar Binks.

- Sid

 

*  Or Hello Klitty, as I tend to think of it.

Damn, there goes my carefully maintained PG rating...

 

Admittedly only for geeks, but still.

Felicia Day is a GODDESS.

- Sid

 

The Rewrite War.

Let's hope that the mystery of time travel is never solved, because a war fought with the tools available through temporal manipulation would make the destruction and death caused by the great wars of the past pale in comparison.  A true time war could eliminate entire civilizations: man, woman and child - but without ever spilling a drop of blood, because in a true time war, they would never have even existed.

One of the ongoing memes on Doctor Who has been just such a conflict, the Great Time War, which completely destroyed both the Time Lords and the Daleks,* but in spite of frequent references very few actual details have been introduced.  How would you fight a war in - or with - Time? 

On an individual basis, time travel would stretch and compress the phenomenon of combat.  Soldiers would flicker in and out of battle, taking months to recover from wounds if necessary, then return to the fight only an instant after leaving it.  It's not impossible that once the war had started (if it's even possible to use the linear concepts of "start" and "end") there would only be one battle which would make up the entire war.

In fact, you only need one soldier on each side.  It would be possible to invest the total scientific and military efforts available into the production of a single perfect soldier armed with every conceivable option for defense and offense, then duplicate them into near-infinity by time jumps to a single destination from multiple points in their timeline**.  Roger Zelazny offers this scenario in Creatures of Light and Darkness:

Thirty seconds ago, Wakim is standing behind the General and Wakim is standing before the General, and the Wakim who stands behind, who has just arrived is that instant, clasps his hands together and raises them for a mighty blow upon that metal helm—  

—while thirty-five seconds ago, the Steel General appears behind the Wakim of that moment of Time, draws back his hand and swings it—  

—while the Wakim of thirty seconds ago, seeing himself in fugue, delivering his two-handed blow, is released to vanish, which he does, into a time ten seconds before, when he prepares to emulate his future image observed—  

—as the General of thirty-five seconds before the point of attack sees himself draw back his hand, and vanishes to a time twelve seconds previously….  

All of these, because a foreguard in Time is necessary to preserve one’s future existence…  

… And a rearguard, one’s back…

But do they really need any sort of weapons?  At some point, Time itself would become the weapon of choice - no need for explosives or bullets, simply age the enemy out of existence.

In a conventional conflict, armies capture territory.  In a time war, victory might hinge on control over eras of history.  In Brother Assassin, Fred Saberhagen suggests that in the same fashion that radar tracks enemy missiles, it would be necessary to somehow track the progress of temporal incursions into the past through the time stream, to observe the ripples of change grow to a wave and, when (or if) the threat to history had been eliminated, to watch the wave subside again as events return to normal.  Barrington J. Bayley's The Fall of Chronopolis sensibly introduces the idea of an historical archive somehow removed from the standard timestream so that it's possible to map whatever changes the enemy has made.  (Because in the standard timestream, the changes aren't changes - they're memories and documented history.)

After all, on a tactical and strategic level, the possibilities are infinite.  Ray Bradbury's story The Sound of Thunder suggests that simply crushing a prehistoric butterfly would resonate into the future with unexpected consequences.  Taking that as a baseline, consider the effects of detonating a thermonuclear weapon in the centre of Rome during the time of Julius Caesar.

Undoubtedly this would have a massive effect on the time stream, but the problem would be trying to predict exactly what that effect would be.  Does nuking Rome help or hurt your cause? Rationally, tactical strikes at an opponent's history would have more of the rapier than the bludgeon in their planning.

The key word in the preceding paragraph is "rationally".  The losing side is not always rational, and time war opens horrifying new vistas for the infamous doctrine of Mutually Assured Destruction. A defeated opponent could easily decide to activate some doomsday option that would spell the complete and utter destruction, if not the non-existence, of every life form on the planet. And no need to do anything as obvious as blowing up Rome - all that's required is a carefully placed spoonful of bleach in some primitive pool of amino acids.

And who knows?  It's entirely possible that we've already lost.

- Sid

* Well, for the standard TV science fiction series value of "completely destroyed".  There are more Daleks still running around than cockroaches in a cheap New York apartment.

 

** Or multiple destinations from a single point, come to think of it.

 

So much for affirmative action.

I think as of today I've peaked professionally - this afternoon I was called upon to create signage for porta-potties.

I asked how many units were being rented, and when I discovered that they had three on order, well, it just seemed sensible to me to be fully prepared.  Alas, it would seem that employment equity only goes so far... or perhaps more accurately, just not that far.

- Sid 

(April 13th update:  I'm sorry, if you thought this was just silly, well, obviously you've never met me in person.)

NADA.

And now, an update from our Science correspondent:

From: Donovan Hides
Sent: April-04-12 7:50 AM
To: Sid Plested
Subject: Dark Matter

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/46942006/ns/technology_and_science-space/

Interesting news article and video to support….I think the message here is that NASA has spent billions of dollars…not found a damn thing…and they are excited about it.

- Donovan

I feel like I should come to NASA's defense and make a case for exclusion being an important part of the scientific process, but really, Donovan does pretty much sum it up.

- Sid

"Done well enough for the genre."

In science fiction, sometimes it seems that so long as it's science fiction at all, the fans will love it - briefly; therefore the publishers will put it in print - briefly; therefore the writer is likely to settle for doing much less than his best. The mediocre and the excellent are praised alike by afficionados, and ignored alike by outsiders.

- Ursula K. LeGuin, A Citizen of Mondath

In response to Laurie's guest posting regarding suspension of disbelief, I'd like to suggest that when she comments that The Immortals was "done well enough for the genre", she may have put her finger on the real problem without noticing.

One of the great problems that has plagued fantasy and science fiction over the years is that the desire of fans for content has often resulted in the acceptance of lower quality.  For a long time, in many ways it was a self-fulfilling prophecy - science fiction and fantasy were ghettoized by the mainstream, and as such it was taken as a given that as long as a story had enough rocket ships and aliens, or castles and elves, that was all that was necessary.  After all, it wasn't like they were legitimate stories, you know, actual stories about real life - why would they have to be well-written?

I think that things have improved over time, and that both science fiction and fantasy have matured, but sadly I suspect that it's easier to get backing for a bad special effects movie than a bad dramatic film, and there's obviously a large market for recycled assembly-line genre novels.  When Laurie asks what people expect when watching a fantasy movie, she suggests entertainment, amusement and escape - it says a lot that quality wasn't the first thing that came to mind.

- Sid

Suspension of Disbelief.

(Contributed by Laurie Smith)

Recently I saw three movies, all very different but all with an element of fantasy. (Okay, so only one might be classified as science fiction.) These movies got me wondering:  what constitutes an acceptable level of fantasy in a movie? Too little, and it is a documentary or a reality show. Too much and the audience members shake their heads and think “Whoa. What the heck was that?”

The three movies I had the dubious pleasure of watching were:

1. The Immortals. Bleak and brutal, but done well enough for the genre.

2. Sssssss. Yes, I’m serious. That was the title. It was about a mad scientist who turned his lab assistants into snakes. I didn’t even watch the whole thing it was so ridiculous, and my rating for this unfortunate blot on the cinematographic landscape is: Booo. Hisssssssss.

3. Stonehenge Apocalypse. The closest one to actual science fiction, it was also the most enjoyable (damned by faint praise).

What do people expect when watching a fantasy movie? Entertainment? Amusement? Escape? Science fiction movies that include all three of these values seem to do well. Adding some elements of truth and plausibility give the viewer something to relate to, so they can truly imagine a world where....

A few points of verisimilitude provide an anchor for the viewer. What about a movie like District 9, where there is enough day-to-day detail of an improbable situation provided where the viewer can feel almost uncomfortable with the realism? Hey, if you haven’t seen that movie yet, don’t rent it and then go out for a large dish of prawns, you may lose your appetite.

So the rhetorical question is – what is the optimal distance from reality that a movie needs for the audience to be both willing to suspend their disbelief and be entertained enough to provide a success at the box office?

- Laurie

Bazinga.

Leonard:  Once you open the box it loses its value.

Penny:  Yeah yeah, my mom gave me the same lecture about my virginity…I gotta tell you, it was a lot more fun takin' it out and playin' with it.

The Transporter Malfunction, The Big Bang Theory

In spite of my previous post, there is a show that I do watch frequently, but it's not exactly science fiction. The Big Bang Theory is a remarkably faithful representation of the ups and downs of geek life, and it's loaded with in-jokes that require a fair degree of geekdom on the part of the audience for full appreciation.

This season, they're reached for an apotheosis of geek cred by first having Leonard Nimoy provide the voice for a Spock doll in a dream sequence, and then with the upcoming appearance of physicist Stephen Hawking.  However, I'm sad to say that they've dropped a notch in their credibility level with me as a result of the Nimoy/Spock episode, The Transporter Malfunction. 

For those of you unfamiliar with the show, Leonard and Sheldon are Caltech physicist roommates who live across the hall from a would-be actress (and full time waitress) named Penny, who has an on-again/off again relationship with Leonard.*  Leonard and Sheldon, along with their friends Howard and Rajesh, represent the zenith of socially challenged action figure and comic book collecting Star Trek versus Star Wars gamer otaku geekdom - living the dream, as it were.

In The Transporter Malfunction, Sheldon complains that Penny eats too much of their take-out food without chipping in.  Penny responds by buying gifts for Sheldon and Leonard with part of a residual cheque that she has received for some commercial work.  The gifts?  To quote Sheldon:  "A vintage mint-in-box 1975 Mego Star Trek Transporter  - with real transporter action.  Hot darn!!" Well, actually, two of them, one each for Leonard and Sheldon.  

Okay, what? I'm sorry, but a vintage mint-in-the-box anything isn't cheap (trust me, I keep an eye on the Major Matt Mason market on eBay.)  How big a cheque did Penny get, anyway?
 

Just out of curiousity, I went online to see what the 1975 Mego Transporter sells for, only to discover that show creator Chuck Lorre's research department had not fully done its job.  As it turns out, what Penny purchased were not really Mego toys as such, but the United Kingdom Palitoy Star Trek Transporter Room (Cat. No 22803, if you must know), which was never released in North America. In fact, the Palitoy logo on the box is very visible in any number of shots. **

Obviously the research team needs to hire some new geeks, because this is exactly the sort of trivia that Sheldon would have on the tip of his tongue. Feel shame, people, it took me less than a minute on Google™ to get that info. And I'm only a major geek, although if you ask me, posts like this really should count toward leveling up.

Oh, and estimated price for a Star Trek Transporter Room, depending on condition, about $300+ each.  Wow, that's a lot of Chinese food.

- Sid

* Well, actually, that kind of diminishes their credibility a bit too - the only way that a Level 80 geek is likely to connect with a beautiful blonde is in the process of buying a lap dance from her.

**  Sigh - okay, I'll throw them a bone here, Mego retained copyright on the Transporter Room toy, but I bet that Desilu Productions retained copyright on the Star Trek name as well, that's not the point.

And he's workin' the Riker beard, too.

Over recent years, I've found myself watching less and less TV, and I've finally come to the conclusion that there's a very simple reason: I miss Star Trek.

I should be specific, though - it's mostly Star Trek: The Next Generation, although the other versions and spinoffs certainly had their moments. (With the rule-proving exception of Enterprise.)

I don't deny that there have been some very well done science fiction programs over the intervening years since the cancellation of The Next Generation, but I also feel that there's some level at which they were all one-trick ponies. There's a point where Buffy the Vampire Slayer could easily have been subtitled "Sleeping with the Enemy"; Battlestar Galactica seemed to turn into a sort of paranoid schizophrenic experience in which anyone could turn out to be a Cylon; The Walking Dead is a weekly one-hour dose of the end justifying the means; and who knows what Terra Nova was trying to do. Even Doctor Who, one of my favourite shows, has a tendency toward rabbit-out-of-the-hat medicus ex machina solutions to plotlines.*

The Next Generation was different. I've mentioned in previous posts that science fiction is like an collection of odd left-handed tools stored in a toolbox that, like the Doctor's TARDIS, is bigger on the inside. Using that simile, Star Trek was like a swiss army knife that offered a multitude of clever approaches to any given situation.

I don't claim that TNG was perfect - I think we all wince a little when they rerun Qpid - but no other science fiction series has managed to come up with the sort of thought-provoking brilliance that characterized the best shows in its seven-season run.

Examples? Let's see…The Measure of a Man, the episode in which Starfleet is forced to legally decide upon the status of the android, Data: is he their property?  And in so deciding, would that mean that Data, and all androids who might follow him, would be disposable people - slaves?

How about The Drumhead, a sobering examination of witch hunts and governmental paranoia, with a chilling guest appearance by Jean Simmons as Admiral Norah Satie? Darmok, a clever anthropological plot involving first contact with an alien species that uses metaphors from their culture to communicate; The Defector, which dealt with questions of loyalty and self-sacrifice; The Outcast, which took an unexpected look at gender and sexuality issues; The Inner Light, a touchingly personal episode in which Picard lives an entire virtual lifetime as an inhabitant of a doomed planet - these were all episodes that succeeded in offering a level of quality far above the standard network fare.

In spite of my respect for those episodes and others that I haven't listed, I don't think that Paramount should rush another Star Trek series into production - again, the fate of Enterprise is a useful cautionary tale. However, I have this recurring nightmare...

Someplace in California there has to be a pitch for a new television Star Trek, as follows:

It's been 18 years since the cancellation of The Next Generation, more than enough time for all the teenagers and children on the show to become adults, graduate from Star Fleet, and prepare to take up their places on the bridge of a new Enterprise. (Or, in the case of their real-world equivalents, survive their post child actor years without succumbing to drug overdoses, anorexia, shoplifting charges, suicidal depression, or all of the above.)

Here's the cast lineup for the new show:

Thirty-nine year old Wil Wheaton as Wesley Crusher; Jon Steuer, 28, as Worf's son Alexander; Naomi Wildman from Voyager, played by Scarlett Pomers, 23; Icheb, also from Voyager, played by 33 year old Manu Intiraymi; and 33 year old Cirroc Lofton reprising his role as Jake Sisko from Deep Space Nine.

The supporting cast can be filled out with Hana Hatae as Chief O'Brien's daughter Molly, the three children trapped in the turbolift with Picard in the Next Generation episode Disaster - Erika Flores, John Christian Graas, and Max Supera - and Tom and B'Elanna's daughter Mirai from Voyager, who was just a baby anyway and which allows us to actually audition someone for one of the roles.

This is a frighteningly plausible idea, one which sometimes wakes me up in a cold sweat at two in the morning. Let's just hope that Wil Wheaton isn't eager to return to the franchise, I think that his agreement to do something like this could easily become the pebble that starts the avalanche.

- Sid

* Watching Doctor Who is a little like reading Sherlock Holmes stories. You're never expected to match the deductions of the hero, only to admire them.

Hugs your figure and costs so little!

According to Our Gods Wear Spandex, an interesting and detailed examination by author Christoper Knowles of the archetypal roots of comic book characters, surveys show that half of the population of the United States was reading comic books during the 1940s.  Now, to be honest, I'm a bit sceptical - not necessarily about the statistic, but about the fact that someone had time to do surveys about comic book readership during that particular decade.  Regardless, I recently stumbled across something that demonstrates that comic book readership at that point in time was wider than I would have thought.

Here we have a copy of Batman from 1942, with a classic simple cover that puts the spotlight - literally - on Batman and the Boy Wonder.  The back cover?  What else but an equally classic ad for Daisy Air Rifles, every boy's dream toy?  "Tell Dad to hang one of these beautiful Daisys on your Christmas Tree!"  (The astute reader will note that duty is added in Canada - plus ça change...)

Now here's Issue One of Namora from 1948.  Certainly not as well known in the modern world as Batman, Namora is the cousin of Prince Namor, the Sub-Mariner.  (Sorry, that probably doesn't help the non-geeks in the audience, but just go with it.)  A bit yellowed by time, but still a first issue, so probably worth some money.

And the advertising on the back cover?  Yes, that's right, just what you'd expect - an ad for the latest and greatest in 2 Way Stretch Girdles - in Glamorous Nude, I might add. (Extra crotches only forty-nine cents.)  This is either strong evidence that comics had a readership that extended at least as far as ladies looking for support garments, or a testament to some unknown member of the advertising sales department who could probably have sold ice to Eskimos.

You have to wonder, though - was there no duty on lingerie in 1948, or did they just not care about Canadian shoppers?

- Sid