Callahan - The Alien Slayers
Do you remember what it was like to be you in Grade 3? I have hardly any memories of that time, but the memories I do have are fascinatingly specific, full of exact colour-patterns and spatial proportions my mind does not keep for more recent memories
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As for putting friends into stories, like this and Cawthraball Z, I've often pondered the question. Perhaps growing up with the incredible amount of camp around us (Thundercats, He-Man, any type of anime) has given us this innate wish to live that particular life. Especially in the boring institution of school, children of our generation constantly wish to achieve something greater, hence making themselves and their comrades fight monsters.
These days, in my experimentations with different types of narratives, I strive to find a sort of original genre that best suits me. In my long nights I have written and filmed many stupid scripts from 'road movies', artistic representations of love through colours through actors, campy quasi-samurai flicks, simple dialogues, and some I can't even describe. However, it all comes back to writing in my ideal world, using character archetypes of my own that I look up to. This is completely pointless, and writing becomes therapeutic, completely valuable to one's self, but completely useless to the growth of an artist. This is something I try to avoid, because this type of writing leads to idiotic television and low entertainment.
However, I do see merit in this, especially the parody. Inside jokes, regardless of being the funniest, are repugnant. That's what I really hate. Concerning parodies, the works of Mel Brooks I find incredibly rich and wonderful. So, in conclusion, I take back what I've ever said about parodies.
Any idiot can make someone chuckle, either with words or images. Stories like this are incredibly appealing to the smallest group of people. The real trick is to create something that can affect everyone, even your racist uncles and aunts (not Callahan's, I'm talking to the general reader).
I have rambled way too long, and I have too many ideas going at once that even contradict each other. In conclusion, I say, Callahan, this story is Grade 3 excellence.
Tolkien wrote about his friends, and those books were pretty good. But his writing also had meaning.
Okay, in conclusion, I have nothing. Keep doing what you're doing, everyone. I am only speaking to myself here, organizing what I want to do with my work and my life. All I ever want is mental growth, and experimentation.
And please post in response to Cal's story. What are you, a fucking idiot? Or is it apathy? He's a good man, let him know he's still worth something, before I bust your skull open on his driveway in honour of him, let your brains leak down the road, all the way to Paul's house, where we will play pool and discuss the meaning of true love.
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It's funny to look back at old stories because the influence of all the camp you were into at the time is sometimes really obvious. In this story, it is lamented that 'what's worse was that all the pizzeria's were closed'. Now, I really didn't feel one way or the other about the value of pizzerias to a society at the time, but it seemed to me from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles that, to Cool Heroes, Available Pizza was an Important Issue.
The Skull Fortress is a direct lift from Dr. Wily's Castle in the old Mega Man games.
Alien Force, the big fights: Power Rangers and Video Game Boss Battles.
Other elements were informed by classic roleplay with friends. Robert Paolini and myself used to pretend to be Patrolling Protectors, and he was always getting captured and tortured and breaking loose by sheer will. Robert came up with what he thought was a really cool idea for this story: We'd get thrown in a dungeon and we'd ask him, Mr. Fix-it, to do something technical to get us out, and he'd agree, and then there'd be a loud noise, and he'd go "Sorry, I had to use the direct approach". He demanded that it be included somewhere. You can find it in the final chapter, shortly before the horrible dialogue involving 'cheezy as leftover mud that is' (Also Robert's idea, I think. I hope.).
Revenger is a curiosity. While he serves the simple plot device of busting the heroes out of the first dungeon, he is stylish and enigmatic in a way that only comes across in the picture. This compelled me (and evidently Alissa as well) without me knowing why. But he is like the All-knowing Boon-giver of Joseph Campbell's Cosmogonic Cycle, consciously fulfilling his mythic function to Help the Hero(es). He is like the Bicycle Master that helps Paul Hubacheck against the Three Scooter Minions in Cycle. He is part of the naturally occurring language of symbols in all cultures and ages. He was never really Jose O., even though I said so in the credits at the end. I never believed it. His name is Revenger, for he revenges.
It's funny how your use of idiom is informed by campy kid shows, too. Nooo joke, Nooo sireee, Biiiig mistake, 7-ton Rhinoceros, etc. That stuff used to be cool. Wouldn't even think of expressions like that now.
The evolution of art and mind. Seeds to be watered. The seeds are here, in dumb little stories like the Alien Returns Part Two.
You know, I don't think I ever wrote a Part One. Maybe I should.
Re: driveway skull-busting -- I fucking laughed to high heaven at the whole paragraph. Thank you for your concern, Illya.
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