The Quill Is Mightier
Yesterday when I went out to dinner with li'l brudder and Carrie of DnD fame, the latter began a story which started out, "So I was in English class...". As her English class is taught by an uptight lesbian who looks like a man and is composed of about six slightly... off-beat charter school kids, this intro usually heralds tales of interest and mild horror. This time, however, it was more of the former: apparantly in class that day there had been a spirited discussion of whether Oscar Wilde could take William Wordsworth in a fight. (The verdict, incidentally, was no: Carrie declared that while Wordsworth was a bear, Oscar Wilde was "the queen of queens.")
The upshot was that Carrie had the idea of one of those late 80s/early 90s fighting games a la Street Fighter starring authors from the literary canon. She elaborated on this for our benifit and we happily spent most of the car ride out to Nagoya Sushi thinking of the various authors and their moves.
Edgar Allen Poe: Mash all the buttons at once and a flock of ravens descend to mob your opponent. (Battle cry: "Nevermore!")
Emily Dickinson: Hurls long, pointy dashes like javelins.
W.B. Yeats: Much like Poe only with fairies instead of ravens.
James Joyce: Confusion attack a la Psychonauts using long, surreal sentences.
William Shakespeare: Spears, obviously.
Sylvia Plath: Can summon a rain of vitriol.
Byron, Shelly and Keats: (thank you, Dorothy Parker) Appear as one unit and drive off the enemy in vaguely homoerotic ways.
Dante Alighieri Can summon minor demons and the like.
Homer: Can take on aspects of Greek mythological creatures (either that or trap opponent on an island for seven years.)
J.R.R. Tolkien: OK, so not technically literary canon but screw literary canon. We decided on an elven longbow, in deference to his lifelong wish to shoot a bow.
Feel free to make your own suggestions.
The upshot was that Carrie had the idea of one of those late 80s/early 90s fighting games a la Street Fighter starring authors from the literary canon. She elaborated on this for our benifit and we happily spent most of the car ride out to Nagoya Sushi thinking of the various authors and their moves.
Edgar Allen Poe: Mash all the buttons at once and a flock of ravens descend to mob your opponent. (Battle cry: "Nevermore!")
Emily Dickinson: Hurls long, pointy dashes like javelins.
W.B. Yeats: Much like Poe only with fairies instead of ravens.
James Joyce: Confusion attack a la Psychonauts using long, surreal sentences.
William Shakespeare: Spears, obviously.
Sylvia Plath: Can summon a rain of vitriol.
Byron, Shelly and Keats: (thank you, Dorothy Parker) Appear as one unit and drive off the enemy in vaguely homoerotic ways.
Dante Alighieri Can summon minor demons and the like.
Homer: Can take on aspects of Greek mythological creatures (either that or trap opponent on an island for seven years.)
J.R.R. Tolkien: OK, so not technically literary canon but screw literary canon. We decided on an elven longbow, in deference to his lifelong wish to shoot a bow.
Feel free to make your own suggestions.