My Anime Life: Zetsuen no Tempest

I hadn't intended this to be the week's post, but I came down with a nasty flu, and this was ready, so I'm doing it now.

In this newborn article series, I've already talked about The Apothecary Diaries and Blood-C. Now I'd like to highlight a series you may never have heard of at all. Zetsuen no Tempest (officially localised as Blast of Tempest) began life as a fantasy drama manga co-written by Kyo Shirodaira and Arihide Sano, and illustrated by Ren Saizaki. The same year the manga concluded, an anime television series was created by Studio Bones and adapted by Mari Okada.

The storyline is...something. The initial premise is that following the death of his adoptive sister Aika, Mahiro Fuwa finds himself allied with Hakaze Kusaribe, a member of a mage clan dedicated to the Tree of Genesis. That clan has splintered, with a large faction seeking to awaken the counterpart Tree of Exodus, which causes giant seeds to appear and wipe out nearby populations. Mahiro seeks out lead protagonist Yoshino Takegawa, a loner who was friends with himself and Fuwa. Since Fuwa was killed with magic, Yoshino and Mahiro ally with Hakaze to find Fuwa's killer, ending up caught in the plots surrounding the Tree of Genesis and its plan for the world.

That sounds like I've given away the whole plot, but I assure you I haven't. The plot takes lots of twists and turns, yet it's paced out fairly slowly. The core drama is how the three core characters--Yoshino, Mahiro and Hakaze--deal with the unfolding path of events and the truth behind the conflict of the Genesis and Exodus Trees. The magic system used here is robust and unique, with mages of the Tree of Genesis sacrificing pieces of modern technology to grant them charges of magic, which themselves have a strict limitation on what they can and can't do.

Technically the initial goal of Hakaze to retake control of her clan is resolved within the series' first half, but the plot continues well beyond that point and builds to a compelling finale that had my head spinning in a good way. There is some repetition of scenes and information here and there, especially in flashbacks, but the writing was good enough that the repetition didn't feel like a drag. Plus, with how overwhelming some of the plot can be, some reminders here and there are a good thing.

Perhaps what brought this series to mind for the next "My Anime Life" article is Overly Sarcastic Productions' Trope Talk video on "Haunting the Narrative". The character of Aika Fuwa, who is dead by the story's opening and only seen in flashback, is the definition of this trope. Her influence on the current narrative is profound, and we do get a good look at her personality and actions, but she never features in the present storyline. Her relationship with her secret lover Yoshino and adoptive brother Mahiro is complicated to say the least, and drives much of the character chemistry related to the two. She is also the sources of some humour, which can be sorely needed as this is otherwise a pretty serious and grim plot.

Last time I didn't feel the need to comment on the anime itself beyond narrative, but here I think it is appropriate. There are some parts of the story which, to be honest, can drag. I may find a verbal debate lasting two episodes interesting, but most would be bored to tears. The animation is engaging enough that some of the boring bits are tolerable, but it's the musical score by Michiru Oshima that forms the backbone of most scenes. A grand orchestral score, it's never used in the wrong place, and despite a surprisingly small number of tracks spread across twenty-four episodes I didn't get the feeling of "oh, this one again again", but instead "oh, I know what this scene is about".

Two new Videos, for your enjoyment.

 Another month, another episode of my podcast. Or rather, a new episode, and a video that came about in--no joke--less than a week.

First, after much research and slight hair-tearing, an episode on the origins and modern version of Sinbad. I go into the character's origins, the whole issue of being bundled in with the Thousand and One Nights, some prominent portrayals in the 20th Century and how they compare to the original tales, and why Sinbad as we know him is anything but the original that entertained audiences since the 14th Century.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fXKUvC755lo

https://open.spotify.com/episode/489EOojhSfghGqGZOunBt4

Second, a video that I published on Friday. In it, I take a retrospective look at a Final Fantasy project that's close to my heart ans one of my early inspirations. My very first Final Fantasy game experience at that: Fabula Nova Crystallis. I look at its representative titles, how the notorious mythos was supposed to work, and generally do the rounds of analysis and nostalgic but not rose-tinted retrospection.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OCRvsVnLWn4&pp=0gcJCfsJAYcqIYzv 

Review - Novel - Stephen Cox's The Crooked Medium's Guide to Murder

IMAGE CREDIT: AUTHOR WEBSITE. BOOK COVER DESIGNED BY MATT AT INKSPIRAL DESIGN

 In a previous post, I gave a recommendation to a duology of sci-fi novels written by Stephen Cox, Our Child of the Stars and Our Child of Two Worlds. Out of curiosity, I decided to buy the paperback of Cox's newest novel, self-published for paperback and ebook. That novel is The Crooked Medium's Guide to Murder.

The set-up is simple; taking place in 1880s London, Mrs Ashton and Mrs Bradshaw are lovers who mainly live off of Mrs Ashton's work as an evangelical spiritualist medium. Mrs Ashton has a secret ace up her sleeve; she can "read" people she touches, sensing their emotions and memories, lending her claims some validity. One day, a noble client seeks to hear from her mother-in-law, but her husband appears to stop it, and Mrs Ashton learns from reading him that he is not only a cruel and violent character, but has killed at least once in the past. Under threat from the husband's social and political connections, Mrs Ashton decides to investigate the matter.

In terms of genre, the best way I can describe this novel is 'historical low fantasy mystery". The story certainly doesn't go the way you think it might from the opening eight to ten chapters, which are basically all set-up for the meat of the story set in the English countryside. I think the best way I can describe the pacing is that the first third is over-slow for my tastes, but never so slow as to stop me reading. Then for the next two thirds, it picks up the pace aplenty with events and twists I won't spoil. The language is a part of that pacing, as while it's not entirely done in the style of Braddon, Collins and Doyle, it does have dashes and flavours of their approaches to writing.

Is this novel perfect? Well, no, but then nothing is. It does rely on some character cliches early on, though many are thankfully subverted. I think my biggest issue is with the character of Mrs Bradshaw. Compared to Mrs Ashton and the couple's hired help Maisie, Mrs Bradshaw feels underdeveloped and relies a lot more on her trope of the harsh Irish lass who will clobber unwanted male attention than the deeper characterisation given by Mrs Ashton's troubled past and Maisie's family responsibilities. There are also a couple of issues with the book's current printing: a few typos, one incomplete sentence. But those are well within the expectations of a self-published work, and throughout the book I only ran into less than half a dozen.

Even with these reservations, I would definitely recommend you check out The Crooked Medium's Guide to Murder. Not only are you supporting a good writer's first self-published effort, but you'll be treated to a neat little piece of historical fiction with an enjoyable lesbian couple in the lead, and an actually intriguing mystery.

RELEASING 1 SEPTEMBER 2025.

7.9/10

Author Talks S3 E2: My Writing Journey

 It's all in the title, and all for your enjoyment and cringe. The next episode of my one-person podcast Author Talks is now live, and it's very different from what I've done before. It's a 50-ish minute summary of my writing journey with both extracts of my earlier work (yikes...) and a preview of my upcoming Cluster Cycle book The Murderer's Lament (yay!). The episode is available on YouTube and Spotify, so if you can put up with my narration and some musical interludes/background music that seemed appropriate, then do enjoy. No-one shall expose my early cringe...as I've already done it myself!

(Note: Due to this blog's...quirks, I've needed to create text-based links for both versions.)

YouTube version

Spotify version

A Writer's perspective on Baldur's Gate 3

Massive warning. This is a post that will cover the story content of Baldur's Gate 3 in its entirety as far as my playthrough is concerned, so there will be constant and unrepentant spoilers for Baldur's Gate 3 in general, and the Dark Urge route in particular.

So, in April, I bought Baldur's Gate 3, the famous title developed by Larian Studios as a follow-up to two legendary titles with turn-based and dice-role stat-focused gameplay inspired by "Fifth Edition Ruleset" of Dungeons & Dragons. It also boasts a story set squarely within the lands of Faerun and the Sword Coast. And recently, through a bad bout of COVID, I had a chance to finish it.

Baldur's Gate 3 is good. I don't think people need reminding of that. I was extremely wary of getting it as my previous Larian Studios experience was with Divinity: Original Sin 2, which has a late-game difficulty spike (or perhaps overhanging cliff is a better visual metaphor) that dances wildly over the line into being cruel and unfair rather than challenging. But after much research and consideration, I dived in. And I chose a Dark Urge character, making them a male Dragonborn bard called Cai.

Meet Cai, dragonborn, hailing from Baldur's Gate, a Bard of some skill who wields dual swords and powerful magic. Has violent urges but is currently undergoing on-the-road therapy. Would like to meet attractive if impulsive and potentially explosive wizard. Monogamy tolerable.

I won't say this game's for everyone, it isn't. But it's remarkably approachable. I'm not that good at Tactical or CRPGs, but I was finding ways of completely monstering enemies. There were obviously gameplay moments that had me either reeling with laughter or tensing up or wanting to break something; barely passing a saving role that got me an unexpected ally, dodging attacks with a sliver of health left, hitting what I'll call "Larian moments" in Act 3 when some encounters turned from challenging to rather unfair, reactioning a half-spider to death, using my bard/wizard combo to obliterate a boss in three turns flat, blabbing a potential boss into killing himself, getting utterly lost more than once trying to find a darned place and perhaps going inside the wrong/unintended way, almost being killed more than once by tough bosses. You know, the things you do sometimes.

But the main experience I had was during this story, a stronger experience than I ever expected as I've spoiled myself on most of the major story beats and a lot of aspects of how a Dark Urge (hereafter Durge) run can go. During my 80+ hour first playthrough to not become a brain-eating soulless mindflayer, I successfully saved a druid grove while guiding tiefling refugees to safety (although I met a bard from their group and killed her in a trance in her sleep so whoops), liberated lands from a curse of shadow while reuniting a literal lesbian power couple, defeated a swamp hag (twice), accidentally left people to die in a burning building, accidentally let people die in an undersea prison, was unable to stop people dying in a factory, and stood up to gods and demons and soulless brain-eating monsters from across dimensions. And all without needing mods, a massive improvement over my previous Larian experience.

The story is actually pretty simple. Standard D&D fare even, and due to its very Tolkien-like style I don't tend to gravitate towards D&D proper. It's the characters that make the journey more than worthwhile.

As a writer myself, I tend to be hyper critical of characters, and I also tend to gravitate towards people that some others in the community are more than happy to disregard or turn into punching bags. See my liking for the cast of Final Fantasy XIII, which until recent reassessments was an easy target for being torn to shreds by fans who just want yet another Final Fantasy VII. I quickly had a thronging camp with their own historical and emotional baggage that they wouldn't always tell me about without some prodding and exploration. The mysterious Sharan cleric Shadowheart, the charismatic if sometimes pathetic Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep, Lae'zel the Githyanki warrior with a well protected heart of gold, the adorable yet explosive tiefling Karlach, Halsin who is okay I guess, the genuinely heartbreaking Jaheira, Minsc who I don't have any nostalgia for and seemed very one-note, the vampire Astarion who makes me want to stab him in half his interactions, and Wyll who is practically no-one.

This: one of the best scenes in the game. Period. So much emotion.

With the exceptions of Wyll and Minsc, I grew fond of the entire cast. Karlach is just adorable and surprisingly tragic, Lae'zel has a genuinely compelling growth arc into someone who could rebel against her tyrannical queen, Shadowheart's narrative is both empowering and sombre, and Gale is personable enough both within and outside his magical affliction arc that he's the character I decided from the outset that I wanted to romance. Even Astarion changed from a tolerated presence due to useful gameplay into a compelling and haunting take on the vampire archetype. Jaheira had strong old mentor whose seen one too many things vibes, especially as in earlier Baldur's Gate titles she had travelled with a person very like Durge, so had some historical baggage to unpack. Wyll will always be very weak even with his subplot of a demon contract he made to save his city which led to banishment, but it is interesting that you can let him choose whether he accepts the mantle of Grand Duke or remains a wandering swordsman, probably his only show of agency in the entire game. Completely wasted potential. Minsc is...eh, why was he included? I mean really, why? I don't even find him funny.

But most importantly and surprisingly, I loved Durge as a character (at least in the narrative route I chose to take). They may be a glorified customizable character in form, but in function they have a huge personal arc about their origins as Bhaalspawn, a pureblood child of Bhaal, Lord of Murder and one of the malicious Dead Three. There was a genuinely tense moment where I needed to make a Wisdom check to stop Cai from killing Gale in his sleep. It felt like Cai, a broken amnesiac saddled with a gory destiny by a malevolent god, would find a kindred spirit in a magician who was abandoned by his divine lover. I just felt right. And it culminated at the end with an option where Cai could accept Gale's marriage proposal and say he could have a "true family" at last.

The antagonists, at least while playing as a Durge, are also very compelling. Human agents for the Dead Three dubbed the Chosen, they each have some surprisingly deep and fitting storylines, although you do need to go hunting at times. Ketheric Thorme is a man broken by tragedy who turned to the Bone Lord Myrkul and became his puppet. Enver Gortash was sold as a magical slave to a warlock, and formed a pact with Bane, Lord of Darkness, and became a powerful power broker and politician. Orin, a shapeshifter and murderous psychopath, has a deeply disturbing backstory that I won't describe in detail, but it's little wonder she is so unbalanced, and so jealous of her Bhaalspawn sibling--aka Durge--that she is responsible for their current mindflayer infection, their amnesia, and usurping their place as Bhaal's Chosen. Each Chosen holds a sinister grip over their realms, either through dark sorcery, financial and military might, or old-fashioned terror tactics.

The most tense and non-annoying moment in Act 3, when the Durge's Bhaalspawn origin is confirmed, was when Cai confronted Orin in Bhaal's temple. Orin had been popping up repeatedly using vessels to taunt and test Cai, and finally kidnapped Lae'zel. Honestly, I was completely taken off guard by this, as whoever is kidnapped is random. I'm glad I reloaded and actually won the fight, as the alternative of losing but still "winning" is frankly terrifying. That I successfully defeated Orin and defied Bhaal was a huge narrative rush. It's very well written and the performances in-game both in terms of voice and motion capture are truly compelling. Just sad we couldn't see more from Gale (or any other romanced character) about Cai's sudden temporary death before being revived by another figure who is probably a god but won't confirm one way or the other.

The Durge who seeks redemption and forgiveness fits in with a lot of the arcs in the story. Halsin and Wyll's (hideously underwritten) respective paths are to correct perceived unfinished business, Shadowheart and Gale can go on journeys to break away from divine will, Astarion's whole story is about either escaping an abusive relationship or being broken by it into pursuing power at any cost, while Karlach, Lae'zel and Jaheira are focused on loss and betrayal. Minsc is....Minsc, in as much as he has barely anything and I don't know why so many people like him. That my Durge Cai would help them, steer them away from self-destructive or false paths, would be there no matter what even if it was with some scathing remarks, and create a found family to surpass his bloodline, seemed only right and natural.

The proportions are super off and I decided Cai was kinda into leather, but this is a wholesome scene, I promise.

Something I do like, but wasn't expecting to, is the "Emperor", aka a Mindflayer with free will, aka the Dream Visitor, aka Balduren, founder of Baldur's Gate and both lover and murderer of the dragon Ansur. I can see why a lot of people would hate him, although the game does its best to have him be a sympathetic figure. Even all but forcing you into a "romantic" interlude. I won't say he's truly sympathetic, but I also don't think of him entirely as a villain. In the strictest sense, he never truly "lied", but he did omit swathes of his past to present himself in a flattering way. You can forgive him for that, but I decided that Cai wouldn't trust any mysterious authority figure further than he could gut them, so their relationship remained cautious and antagonistic. It ultimately felt like the Emperor was a tragic figure, someone corrupted by his turn into being a Mindflayer, who lost most or all personal connection over time, and when we turn against him in the end checks out. Some might describe him as toxic, but I think that depends. I saw him as manipulative, but ultimately pathetic and really clingy. Killing him felt like a mercy at the end.

Speaking of which, the ending was...wow. And also hard to get at times as I was going a specific route, and even at max level with some overpowered abilities, I needed to watch it with fighters like the vampire lord Cazador, the Steel Watch guardian Titan, the demon Raphael, Ethel the Hag in her ascended form, the now-zombie dragon Ansur, and of course the Netherbrain itself. And then at the harbour of Baldur's Gate, Cai convinced the mindflayer-turned Orpheus to keep on living and see his dream realised, watched Lae'zel fly away to a new war against the false god-queen Vlaa'kith with a final parting glance that showed real emotion, saw Astarion flee as the sun started to harm him again, saw Gale decide to give the Crown of Karthus to Mystra and begin a mortal life again, and persuaded Karlach to go with Wyll to Avernus to save her life. Then the epilogue, six months later, when everyone gathers anew. Everyone has found some measure of personal fulfilment; be it Shadowheart's quiet life with her rescued parents, Astarion becoming a shadowy avenger for good, or Karlach revealing a plan to repair her heart. Cai and Gale had made a peaceful life together, everyone was rebuilding or moving on or fighting for a cause of their choice. Their pasts no longer defined them. When Cai took the toast to his companions, "[his] true family", Withers made the final toast to everyone present, and everyone cheered, I had genuine feelings flowing through me.

*Down, Down, Down by the River...*

After that bit of high prose, I would also like to remember some moments that were just complete comedy gold. During one bit, Cai went to a disciple of Loviatar, the goddess of pain, and basically getting an extremely intense spanking session where all skill checks were first time. With Astarion and Shadowheart giving snarky commentary in the background. I knew Astarion would make comments from another player's stream archive, but Shadowheart just chimes in and they turn into a background double act. Some of Cai's Bardic responses, such as after interrupting a bugbear and an ogre mid-coitus, were also hysterical. Gale bringing up an erotic book in the middle of a shadow-cursed land is also funny because of its timing. And also flying around a door rather than opening it was so out of nowhere that I just cackled like a maniac.

And apropos of Gale, somehow Cai gave Halsin the hots for him and I ended up in a brief love triangle situation where I had to put Halsin off, talk with Gale about it, then politely turn Halsin down as Gale didn't want a menage a troi. Also Cai had to refuse the Emperor's advances, gently avoid raising the topic with Lae'zel who was clearly attracted to him, deflect the attentions of a pair of courtesans at Wyrm's Crossing, literally fight off a Cambion in the House of Hope-- Seriously, was Cai stolen from the crib of Sune or something because everyone's thirsty for him. If I hadn't been going a monogamous route with Gale, I'd have ended up with a harem by the end.

Also, readers should bear in mind this is just my one playthrough on one story path, where I chose a particular ending to go for. There are Durge endings where they can embrace their path or simply go insane. There are the other "Origin" characters, AKA the rest of the cast barring Halsin, Jahiera and what's his name again, oh right Minsc. Then there are the custom characters, who are generally nicknamed "Tav", though why I'm not sure. But these all feel like they miss a lot of the story context which makes the antagonists and the final sequences so rich and filled with payoff. It feels like a Durge defying their nature is the "canon" playthrough, with others being non- or semi-canon alternatives like Bards telling different versions of the story over time.

So, after all that, what did I do? Well, I decided to uninstall the game. I will certainly play through it again in some form, but not immediately, and probably not for some time to come. I need time to pass, I need to play/watch/experience something else. But I won't ever forget my own journey through the lands of Faerun. The friends I made, the enemies I felled, the stories I began or ended, the hope I sowed, the fate I defied, the times I had.

Good night, sweet ones. And in the words of the Game Master...

"Baldur's Gate After Dark. It's a little bit sexy but you are gonna be covered in blood at the end."

A (reasoned) defence of Ghibli's Tales from Earthsea

 In previous posts on this platform, I have talked about the Earthsea series by Ursula le Guin. The main book series, and the short story collection. They are classics, truly worthy of inclusion in the canon of fantasy and of wider literature. But I was introduced to the world of Earthsea via a route that...well, isn't well liked. Studio Ghibli's 2006 animated movie Tales from Earthsea. It was the directorial debut of Goro Miyazaki, and the stuff he had to endure from his father makes me pity him deeply and has permanently lowered my opinion on the older Miyazaki. But that's beside the point. How does the film adapt le Guin's work, and why do I still like it?

WARNING: THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR THE FILM IN THIS ARTICLE.

As a straight adaptation, it's terrible. It doesn't adapt a single book, but instead blends elements of multiple stories with more original elements. The story of the movie follows the archmage Ged on a journey across Earthsea as magic is fading from the world, and dragons are seen fighting. He takes in the wandering Arren, a young boy tormented by inner demons. The pair eventually find shelter with Ged's old ally Tenar, and her adopted daughter Therru, and eventually confront the evil wizard Cob.

This story blends elements taken from The Farthest Shore and Tehanu, with additional story beats and lore elements traceable to A Wizard of Earthsea, The Other Wind and the short story "Dragonfly". But there are also original elements that for book fans will come out of left field: some chronological elements, the inclusion of a slaver gang as secondary players, the reason and themeing behind Arren's torments, and a whole opening segment that is the furthest from le Guin's style it's possible to get.

As someone who adores the original books, I should find this as unwatchable as I find the film version of Eragon. Even more so given the complete whitewashing of the cast, something that is present in ALL of Studio Ghibli's works TBH. But when I look at this film, when I remember it, I remember that without this film, I wouldn't have been as deep into Earthsea as I have become. Though it strays wildly away from the stories, it keeps true to many of the series' themes and motifs. It preserves Therru's character in some important respects (she's the character most easily butchered) and doesn't go completely over the borderline as it might have done.

It helps that the music and performances help to sell this world. Tamiya Terashima's score is one of my favourite film soundtracks, blending orchestra with Celtic folk music. And the English dub is spellbinding. It sells the world in a way that I wasn't prepared for, and makes some of the...weaker elements of the plot and characters at least bearable.

Le Guin's own opinion was that...it wasn't her world, her Earthsea, but it was a fine film. And for the first work of a director under abusive pressure from a celebrity father holding an iron grip on his studio, it holds up. I like it far better than some other Studio Ghibli efforts. And it was my introduction to Earthsea at a time when my eyesight and reading problems meant the editions of Earthsea we had in the house were a closed book to me.

Should you watch it? Maybe, maybe not. If you're an Earthsea purist, you'd probably be insulted. But it is a good way of getting a feel for this world and these characters, from a culture the author was emulating. So...who knows? You might like it.

Mononoke yokai explained -- For Fun!

Image source: Crunchyroll

Mononoke. No, not Mononoke-hime. The 2007 experimental horror series created by Toei Animation, spun off from the final entry in a 2006 anthology series Ayakashi: Samurai Horror Tales. Lauded for its visuals and audio design, Mononoke has seen a recent resurgence with the beginning of a movie trilogy. Since I love this series, and I also love Japanese folklore, I decided to explain each of the supernatural beings that are the targets of the enigmatic medicine seller. For some of the creatures discussed, I will be referring to the work of folklorist Toriyama Sekien, translated and released under the title Japandemonium in 2016 by Hiroko Yoda and Mack Alt.

Also, not so fun fact. This was going to be a video, but Twin Engine--which had the series up on its YouTube channel, took those same episodes down before I could capture any clips for them. So you're getting a 1000-word essay instead. Happy reading!

---

First we must talk about what kinds of creatures the Medicine Seller faces. These beings are drawn from Japanese folklore and often modelled on beings most often called yokai, a term literally translating to “strange apparition” with no direct English localization. But, wait? Aren’t they called ‘mononoke’? Well, yes. And no. Yokai can also regionally be referred to as mononoke and ayakashi, and draw from Japan’s local Shinto traditions of animism, where everything from rocks to animals to humans to your coffee table has a spirit, and with enough time it can gain sentience and in some cases even divinity. The distinctions between divine, yokai, and even between benevolent and hostile yokai are so fluid as to barely exist. The series puts down more hardline rules about what constitutes a Mononoke and an Ayakashi.

Now I’ve got the basics down, let’s begin exploring yokai. (Oh yes, and spoilers will be present for the series.)

---

First and last in the series is the Bakeneko, a cat who has lived long to gain the ability to speak and walk on their hind legs. These cats are often associated with evil happenings, but can also be seen. As recounted in Sekien’s work, a neighbourhood in Nagi City dubbed Neko-cho or “Cat City”, is where a cat loved his samurai master so dearly that when that samurai committed ritual suicide, the cat followed suit.

The Bakeneko depicted in both Ayakashi and Mononoke are housecats which carry on the grudge of a murdered woman, which is a recurring motif in Japanese folk stories: the grudge of the dead manifesting in an act of vengeance on the living who wronged them.

There is some confusion between the Bakeneko and the Nekomata, with the two sometimes being confused or interchangeable. The main difference is that Nekomata grow twin tails when they gain their powers.

---

The second yokai, and the first in the series proper, is the Zashiki-Warashi, a yokai native to Japan's northern Tōhoku region. Literally translating to "parlour child", they are prankish beings who are said to bring good fortune to those who see them. So long as they are treated with due respect.

In the anime, they are the spirits of forcefully aborted children who now haunt the inn, which used to be a brothel under the same manageress. There is a further complication as one of the babies that is hinted to be a Zashiki-Warashi is the living unborn child of a woman staying at the inn.

---

The third yokai is the umibozu, which in folklore is a giant humanoid yokai of the ocean, which can trigger ship-wrecking storms. In the anime, the umibozu is manifested from the darkness of a priest on board a ship trapped within the Dragon’s Triangle.

There is another being which appears in the anime, but it is not the same being as the umibozu. It is an umizato, a being which is superficially similar to the umibozu but depicted as a blind lute player, and in the anime as a fish-like humanoid reminiscent of some depictions of ningyo, or the Japanese mermaid.

---

The fourth yokai is interesting because its folklore is something of a spoiler for the story. The Noppera-bo, or ‘faceless ghost’, is a being which manifests as a human without a face. When they feature in legends, it is either hinted to be or revealed as the disguise of kitsune and tanuki to frighten humans. In the anime’s narrative, a complex and prolonged dream sequence has the medicine seller seemingly manifest as the Noppera-bo to help a woman who, after a lifetime of emotional abuse from her family and husband, has herself become a Noppera-bo to escape her inner pain.

---

The fifth and final yokai of the series is the Nue, which in Sekien’s work is described as ‘a strange creature with the head of monkey, limbs of a tiger, and a tail that [resembles] a viper’. Its name came from its cry, compared to the nue thrush. This encounter, and thus the yokai’s existence, originated in the Tale of Heike, as one of the exploits of Genzanmi Yorimasa. In the anime, the Nue’s chimera-like appearance is reworked as the ability to appear differently depending on who sees it.

---

Now on to the movies, where we have two confirmed yokai, karakasa and hinezumi.

Karakasa, featured in the first movie Phantom in the Rain, is one of a group of yokai which can manifest from household objects, from trashheaps to crockery to rugs. The karakasa, or more properly kasa-obake, is an umbrella almost always depicted with one great eye, and varying numbers of limbs. In the movie, the karakasa infests the Ōoku, the women’s only quarters of the shogun’s castle in Edo.

At the moment we know nothing about the next yokai but the name. The hinezumi is a creature borrowed from Chinese folklore. There called the Huoshu, it is a rodent said to live in fire. Its Japanese incarnation first concretely features in the 9^th Century story, the Tale of Princess Kaguya.

Also, fun titbit. There is a superficial similarity between the Medicine Seller’s actions of cleansing the yokai who have begun causing trouble, and the practise of chinkon, where malevolent yokai or ‘ara-mitama’ were changed through a ritual process into more benevolent or harmless ‘nigi-mitama’.

Also if you want to see some further speculation as to the Medicine Seller’s identity, along with a more thorough explanation of the distinctions between mononoke and ayakashi, check out Bonsai Pop’s video which features a compelling theory backed up by the local folklore.

I am very glad this series is getting love again, and look forward to where the next two Mononoke movies go next. So until next time...pray show me your truth, regret, and form.

Review – Novel – Tales from Earthsea

Image credit: Cropped from 2012 paperback edition

A few months back, I put up a large review of the five main books from Ursula le Guin's Earthsea series. I've now completed my reading of this essential fantasy epic with Tales from Earthsea, a compilation of short stories scattered across the history of the Archipelago from its ancient past to a point between the events of Tehanu and The Other Wind.

The advantage and disadvantage with an anthology like this is that the stories can vary wildly in type and style, and also in tone. "The Finder" is a mythic and tragic tale of the founding of Roke. "Darkrose and Diamond", originally from 1999, is a fairly light tale of love under impossible circumstances. The Bones of the Earth tells of an old mage of Gont and his initially unwanted taciturn apprentice. "On the High Marsh" follows an unbalanced stranger who takes shelter in a mild farm. The final story "Dragonfly", originally published in 1998 as a "postscript" to Tehanu, shows the life and fate of Irian, a fiery young woman who confronts a rot within Roke's Nine Mages.

On the whole, these stories are enjoyable and can be read on their own, but there was much rich detail to be gleaned from additional knowledge of the other Earthsea books. Ursula le Guin's writing remains as scintillating as ever, showing her maturity through the years, and she even includes a short essay on the culture and languages of Earthsea. It also shows a pointed reevaluation of the traditionally patriarchal world of Earthsea as established to this point, showing the not insignificant but deliberately downplayed role of women in its history and culture.

If you liked the rest of the series, you will LOVE this book. And now I've finally completed it, I feel a little hollow and might want to read something else. Oh wait, almost forgot the score...

9/10

An Author's retrospective: Sapphire & Steel

Image source: David McCallum’s X Files: how Sapphire & Steel chilled the nation (Telegraph)

Yes, I know it's the Sunday after my second book's release, but I felt the need to talk about this series. A forgotten sci-fi relic from an age long past.

All irregularities will be handled by the forces controlling each dimension. Transuranic heavy elements may not be used where there is life. Medium atomic weights are available: Gold, Lead, Copper, Jet, Diamond, Radium, Sapphire, Silver and Steel.

With this intro...nothing really happened. But I ran into it by accident, and I've decided to write about it. This is one that I'm almost certain no-one will remember outside of niche sci-fi fans. A series broadcast by ITV between 1979 and 1982, Sapphire & Steel is basically a high-concept science fiction where interdimensional beings represented by atomic "elements" investigate violations of the flow of time and reality. Due to low budget and ratings, production struggles, scheduling mishaps, executive shifts, and the lead actors moving on to other things, the series ended on a cliffhanger, and remains something of a lost oddity. Not as much as that K9 spin-off that didn't happen.

Each story follows Sapphire and Steel, and potentially a third operative, during investigations where malevolent forces attempt to break into or disrupt reality, which can be something related to "Time" or some other non-physical being which can fatally disrupt reality. The first and seemingly most iconic for some reason sees a family disappear in a house full of clocks. The second adventure, my personal favourite, focuses on the ghosts of people who died unfairly being exploited by a dark entity. The third is a pretty bleak one about travellers from the 35th Century. The fourth is a chiller about photographs coming alive. The fifth, my second favourite, is a very interesting time-bending tale where a fancy dress party begins replaying events from thirty years before. The sixth features a diner where time has stopped, and a final trap for the protagonists.

This series treads an interesting and fine line between sci-fi and fantasy. If we're being strictly scientific here, it definitely falls into the fantasy camp. I mean, we're following two non-humans with telepathy, teleportation, and other powers as they face extra-dimensional threats which can cling to the dead, revive memories, and bend the flow of time and history among others. But then you get small obfuscations of these events, pseudoscientific explanations such as it not being an actual "ghost" ghost, but an after-image like an emotional imprint, which is something vaguely tied into the fact that pheromones exist. Plus almost every non-human character could fall into the category of being an alien. It's similar to how Lovecraft's works are technically sci-fi, but fall apart under any kind of scientific scrutiny. But the show's biggest pro is that it inhabits this liminal space, and so it can use these haunting ghost story-like set-ups to create compelling slow-burn mysteries about the intrusion of greater powers into the living world.

The major cons of this series are its active cliffhanger, which was supposed to be resolved in the next series, and its clear lack of budget. Not that this is much of an issue as suspension of disbelief exists. It actually puts a lot more on the sound design and cast to carry the series, which they do. The soundtrack and sound effects are genuinely unsettling, and the acting as a whole is very good. Joanna Lumley and David McCallum are standouts throughout as the otherworldly agents Sapphire and Steel.

There isn't a lot to say about the series, and it's become rare. It's available on ITV, there are commercial releases floating around, and there was a Big Finish sequel series for CD/audio that I haven't experienced myself. But there's nothing like the originals. Those odd, creepy originals.

Sapphire and Steel have been assigned.

Review – Novel – The Earthsea series (-1)

So, this article is not going to be very detailed, and it's about something that's been finished for years. But since I'm finally reading the final part of the series, Tales from Earthsea, I've decided to review the rest of this series. This is a series I got into late not because I didn't know about it, but that the copies available until I was in my early twenties because of dyslexia-hostile fonts. Now, grab your beverage of choice and enjoy one person's opinion of what I think is one of the fantasy genre's foundational series.

Illustration by Charles Vess from The Books of Earthsea: The Complete Illustrated Edition

A Wizard of Earthsea

The first book, and in some ways it shows it. This is the tale of Ged, otherwise Sparrowhawk, from abused goatherd on the island of Gont to a powerful mage respected across the Isles of Earthsea. This is one of the few books I've ever read in a single day. I took it up the garden, I reluctantly put it down for lunch and dinner. I rushed through it in five hours, and it's still a favourite. Ged's slow journey from naïve and overconfident to a wise man is interesting because it's as much about the internal journey as events outside. Running for most of the book from a strange shade he brought into existence in a foolish attempt to summon the dead, the story follows him as he encounters several different people that begin to shift and mature his worldview. It's not the smoothest read to a modern audience due to its episodic structure, but it's still a classic and sets up some interesting stuff for the Earthsea world. Also, it has a dragon.

7/10

The Tombs of Atuan

This one shifts the focus entirely to the far north of the Isles, where the pale-skinned Kargish people house a dying sisterhood worshipping mountain deities dubbed the Nameless Ones. The POV character here is Tenar, a young woman chosen from birth to be a priestess of the sisterhood under the name "Ahra", ending up encountering a half-dead Ged within the stone maze where the Nameless Ones dwell. For anyone expecting a direct continuation of Ged's tale, and who is unfamiliar with the Earthsea formula, the change in protagonist is a shock. But this is also a wonderful story with a young woman growing from isolated and brainwashed votary to a woman who willingly abandons her hollow position. In my opinion, a must-read.

9/10

The Farthest Shore

This is the final entry in the original trilogy, and again switches the POV character to Lebannen, also called Arren, heir to the nominal ruling family of Earthsea who is sent to accompany Ged on a quest to find out why the land is growing sick and magic is vanishing. This story is a bit of a tonal shift from the previous two books, as it focuses on an almost-horrific spiritual sickness that impacts everyone in Earthsea, but instead of physical ailments it attacks their minds and spirits. This is again an excellent read, and originally a compelling end to the story of Earthsea with an unsettling antagonist waiting at the end. Also, I kinda feel Lebannen as someone like me, an unsure and young person making their way through a world that appears daunting at best, hostile at worst. Plus, it's got dragons again!

8/10

Tehanu

This is the book I was warned about, and I can see why. It's a drastic tonal change again, written twenty years after The Farthest Shore and dealing less with magic and great threats over the mundane struggles of Tenar after she settles in Earthsea. It deconstructs elements of women in fantasy worlds, and shows Tenar as a potent character not through great deeds, but through compassion and understanding in the face of an often hostile worlds. The heart of the book is her helping to heal Ged after he loses his magic and to a point his will to live, and caring for the child Tehanu, who was horrifically scarred by an abusive family. It changes focus from the men of Earthsea to the women, and offers a sidelong glance into the other side of fantasy. And also, more dragons!

8/10

The Other Wind

This is, to some, the weakest Earthsea story, and the true ending to the overall series. In the spirit of earlier entries, the perspective shifts again, this time to the mage Alder, whose sleep is tormented by visions of his wife in the cursed Dry Lands where Earthsea's dead reside; and Tehanu, who still has unfinished business in the world of Earthsea and helps Tenar and Lebannen as they secure a marriage alliance with the Kargish people and face the threat of dragons attacking Earthsea from the west. This is very much a wrapping-up kind of story, without much character development outside Lebannen and Tehanu, and will make little to no sense to those who haven't read previous Earthsea titles. But it also closes out the story fairly well, and it's a good read.

7/10

And...there we are. My relatively brief summary of Earthsea. Honestly, you should go read them. Ursula K. le Guin is a great writer, and Earthsea is one of her crowing achievements. Just remember, when your visualising the characters...the people of Earthse aren't white!

Short story - Night at Shujuki; Part 1

 

I don’t know why I’m writing this account. Probably it will never see the light of day, or be destroyed long before it can be found. But I feel a full and true account must be put down of the events which led to so many people being...lost. And what may lie beyond the boundaries of what we can understand. What lies at on the edges of this world’s axis mundi.

My name is Sai Toshikiro, and I’m a descendent of a Zainichi Korean family who were moved to Japan in the 1910s. I lost my Korean surname several generations ago, and now I’m as close to Japanese as I can be. I keep my Korean heritage quiet, as there’s still a good bit of racism around. Born in the late 1980s, I was named ‘Sai’ because my mother didn’t want me to be called ‘Saya’, but my father wanted a name that sounded like it, and ‘Sai’ was the closest they could find.

I supposed I should begin this account with the last day of my second year at Shujuki High School in 2002. The day everything seemed to go wrong for the town. If you don’t know where Shujuki is, I’m not surprised. It’s basically in the sticks, a smallish rural town in Yamanashi Prefecture. It’s got a train that goes out to its small station every once in a while, a few smaller stores, and its co-ed high school. Otherwise it’s truly the back end of beyond.

I remember sitting in the middle of the class, with the teacher giving us a dry advanced grammar lesson. The others in this account were also there, giving varying attention to the lesson. There was Rumiko Ishin, a girl who was trying to do a school-friendly gyaru look. Then there was Takahiro Suou, a sporty young man who kept his top button open all the time. There was Souhei Hishima, the class ‘otaku’, who was looking about as plump as I was back then. And then there was Yukari Taito, the over-achiever in class who always got the best grades.

Our teacher, Gouto-sensei, was closing out and giving his sterner look to Takahiro, who as always pretended to ignore it. I heard some giggles. He was always the popular one with Rumiko and some of the other girls. I didn’t really care for him as a guy, but then as I realised going through university I didn’t really care for guys. But I did consider him a good friend, along with Souhei, Rumiko, and even Yukari. The school bell rang for break, and we ended up meeting in the corridor.

Rumiko glomped onto Takahiro’s arm. “Yay! Last day before the holidays! So, any plans?”

Takahiro smiled. “Family’s off to Ryukyu, visiting relatives.”

“Aww...”

“Had any plans of your own?”

“Well, no. I was hoping to make plans with you, but I see you’d want to visit family. Say Souhei, what’s up with you?”

“N...nothing much. But...I’m going to the Wonder Festival in Chiba in August. Bandai’s showing off some of their new Gundam models. Then I’m meeting up with some...friends at...Comiket.”

One of the features of Souhei’s speech was it becoming sporadic when he became excited.

Yukari sighed. “I’ve got tutoring all next week, then I’m planning a trip abroad. I was thinking of going into teaching.”

I looked at her, frowning. “Got your career planned out so soon?”

“Haven’t you? We’ve only got another year, then we’re into college. I do wish you’d all take this a bit more seriously.”

“Let’s not break up the happy feels!” Rumiko somehow put an arm round both my, Takahiro and Yukari’s shoulders. “Let’s just be together and happy! And if not, Yukari can go shoo herself.”

She broke briefly into English with ‘shoo’. It was a pun, and not a very kind one. ‘Shu’ is the highest mark possible in Japanese schools, and Yukari almost always got ‘Shu’ markings. Yukari pulled one of her faces.

“I do wish you wouldn’t shout all the time. But okay. Maybe go onto the roof, like we did last year? What about you, Akira...?” Yukari suddenly frowned, looked about us. “That’s strange. Where’s Akira?”

Souhei looked too. “Y..yeah... That’s odd. Thought he’d...be here. Was he in...class?”

“Yes... Yes, he was.” Yukari glanced back inside. “I’s swear he was in that corner. Yes, I remember, he answered that question Gouto-sensei put to him. Though he looked like death warmed up.”

I think I should now talk about the sixth member of our small group of friends. Akira Tofumi was maybe my age at the time, around 17, with close-cropped hair and a serious expression. He and Yukari always engaged in odd battles of poetry. But here he was...not there. Gouto-sensei emerged and looked at the five of us.

“Something wrong?”

“We were wondering where Akira was.”

“Tofumi-kun?” Gouto-sensei looked round as if he might just appear in the hallway. “I don’t know. He just left. Oh, by the way.” He looked hard at us. “I heard you about the roof. Sorry, but that’s off limits now. No entry except for teachers and staff.”

He didn’t elaborate, but I could guess what might’ve happened. There had been an incident in a neighbouring town of a student trying to kill himself by jumping from the roof of their school building. Obviously didn’t want any repetitions here. We headed for a part of the school yard where the bushes and trees formed a kind of enclosure. We settled there with our bento boxes, with Takahiro cutting an odd figure sitting on the low bow of a tree. Yukari smiled up.

“You’ll injure yourself one of these days.”

“Don’t think so. Any of you free today next week? I thought we might go to that small arcade place.”

Yukari sighed. “I’d just be tagging along. I’ve only played an arcade game once, and it utterly thrashed me. Never again. I’ve got better things to do with my yen.”

“Well I feel like doing something. Not sure why, but...”

Souhei looked up. “Y...you feel that too?”

“Yeah.”

Rumiki laughed. “We’ll find something all of us can do. Akira too... He’s taking his sweet old time.”

“Maybe he’s in the lunch hall.” I looked back at the solid, rectangular school building. “Wonder if he’s got a girlfriend?”

Yukari looked at me. “What makes you think that?”

“Call it a feeling. I noticed him leaving a message for someone round here. And when I came out a little later it had gone.”

“Sure it wasn’t just a bit of junk?”

“He’s not the type to litter. Not like you, Rumiko.”

“Hey, I resent that! But...yeah... Guess he has been a little more secretive. Gotta wonder if he’ll introduce her to us.”

“If he does, I’m sure she won’t mind us.” Takahiro wiped his mouth as a bit of his curry tried to escape. “We’re not like those poor punks who smoke on the quiet or let themselves go.”

“You’d...like to.” Souhei looked at Takahiro was something like awe. “You...might look quite...good...with a leather jacket... Maybe a piercing...”

“Eww.” Rumiko playfully nudged Takahiro’s leg. “Don’t listen to him, Taka-chan. You’d look great in a suit. Hey, look over there.”

We all looked round. Without any warning, Gouto-sensei had appeared in the school yard looking around. I half-expected him to shoo us back to class or something, but he didn’t seem to notice us. He was looking worried. No-one else was moving, so I got up and came over.

“What is it, Gouto-sensei? Are you looking for us?”

“No. I was looking for Hisawa-sensei. Seen her?”

Gouto-sensei had a sister also working at the school as the PE teacher, Shiki Hisawa. She was only a half-sister technically, hence the different surname. I frowned, shook my head.

“No, not today.” An idea struck me out of nowhere. “Maybe she’s on the roof?”

“I...doubt that. Could you help me look? There’s something urgent I’ve got to tell her.”

He looked so worn and worried that I readily agreed. Then I went to fetch the others so they could help too. Rumiko sighed.

“There goes the rest of our break.”

“Gouto-sensei does look pretty worried.” Takahiro jumped down from his perch, tucking the empty bento box into a pocket. “Let’s start at the pool. She may be setting something up there.”

I went with Souhei, Yukari decided to go round the other way, while the others decided to help Gouto-sensei look inside the building. We didn’t find any sign of Hisawa-sensei, or...

“You think...Akira’s...with Hisawa-sensei?”

I looked at Souhei as we rounded back to where we’d started, with Yukari in tow looking preoccupied. “I don’t know. It’s not like him to completely vanish like this. I guess we could call his phone... If he has one? I never asked.”

“He doesn’t.” Yukari spoke promptly. “He used to, but it got broken. He’s saving up for a new one. Oh look, the others.”

Takahiro and Rumiko came running towards us, looking flushed. Had they run all round the school building? Rumiko burst into speech.

“We can’t find Akira-kun or Hisawa-sensei anywhere. We’ve looked in all the classrooms, and—”

“You looked in all the classrooms.” Takahiro corrected her sharply, though he still sounded out of breath. “I checked the breakroom, and the council room. Gouto-sensei said he’d check the roof door on the off chance, but...”

Then it came. A sudden, terrible scream. Two voices mingled into a single loud shriek of horror. We all looked up at where it had come from, the rooftop ledge nearest to us. We saw two forms balanced in mid-air there, a boy with close-cropped hair and a woman in the usual kit of a PE teacher. Another shape appeared, grasped at them, a male teacher.

Rumiko let out an involuntary shout. “Akira-kun!”

I recognised Akira, and Hisawa-sensei, and Gouto-sensei. Gouto-sensei’s hand just missed its grasp for the twin forms as they over balanced and... The fall lasted only a couple of seconds. It felt like a couple of years. The five of us rushed in, then instinctively drew back as the two intertwined forms hit the ground. There was the dull cracking sound of bones, the throbbing through my feet of the impact, and a moment of stillness. The two, Hisawa-sensei and Akira-kin, rested in a broken and tangled heap at the foot of the school building wall.

Rumiko rushed in, but Yukari pulled her back. “No! If we move them without thinking, we might make things worse. Get the school nurse, hurry!”

Rumiko ran off, looking on the point of tears. Souhei struggled after her, maybe for support or maybe to get away from the horrible crumpled shapes. Yukari went in close and gently reached for Hisawa-sensei’s wrist. She felt for a pulse, then tried to find Akira’s hand in the mess. I couldn’t keep looking, and my eyes strayed up towards the roof. And I saw it.

I didn’t know exactly what ‘it’ was at the time. What I saw was something like a woman in a long ceremonial robe, like a miko at a festival. But the robe was entirely black, and while I couldn’t see any features, I had a sensation of something in that face looking directly at me. At us. I let out a strangled gasp and rubbed my eyes. The apparition was gone, and I heard Takahiro speaking.

“Sai-shan, what’s wrong?”

“I... Nothing. Just seeing things.”

I heard the nurse’s voice. “Oh my God... Yukari, get back.”

She did as instructed. “I managed to find a pulse for Hisawa-sensei, but Akira...”

“Just go inside the school. An ambulance is on the way.”

We obeyed, and we found Rumiko blubbering next to a shaking Souhei. Takahiro put a comforting arm round her and she buried her face in his chest.

“Akira-kun...! Akira-kun...!”

“Hey, it’s not over yet.” Yukari’s voice sounded almost normal, which seemed to make it worse. “I felt a pulse. They may be all right.”

“But how did it happen?!” Rumiko’s voice was almost indistinguishable through her sobbing. “I don’t understand, what happened?”

Yukari continued to try and sound normal. “It must’ve been an accident.”

“Yeah, we get that!” Takahiro sounded angry. “But what the hell were they doing on the roof anyway!?”

“There’s...no...need to shout.” Souhei looked on the verge of tears. “Shouting...won’t get us...anywhere... If they...make it out... No, they will make...it out.”

“Sai, you okay?”

I started. Yukari had tapped my shoulder.

“I... yes. Yes, I’m fine, it’s just... Did any of you...see someone else up there?”

“You mean Gouto-sensei?”

“No, not just him. I mean... Okay, I’m gonna sound crazy, but did any of you see a woman dressed as a miko up there?”

Rumiko was so surprised that she seemed to hiccup herself out of sobbing. “A miko? What would someone like that be doing up there?”

“I... I guess I must’ve been seeing things. Trick of the light and all.”

The rest of the day was all off. School was ended early and all the students went home aside from us five, who gave statements to the police while Akira and Hisawa-sensei were taken to hospital. The following day, we all met up. Yukari was excused from her studies for the day. In fact, everyone was excused from something, including me. We gathered at a common meeting spot, an old shrine on the edge of town. Rumiko was still weeping, and Souhei seemed to have been crying before I arrived. Yukari came hard on my heels with a grim face.

I looked directly at her. “Well?”

“Gouto-sensei called me this morning.... Akira and Hisawa-sensei didn’t make it.”

Rumiko looked up, her eyes weeping afresh. “You...serious?”

“They died in the night. They didn’t recover consciousness.” Abruptly, Yukari closed her eyes and wept. “Why did that have to happen to Akira? He had everything in front of him... Everything...”

We five were there, and we felt the hole that had appeared among us. And in that moment, we were united in consolatory weeping away from prying eyes. In a way, that’s why I considered them my best friends. We could weep together.

After that, most of the students including my class were transferred to a school in the neighbouring town. It had better facilities, and railings on the roof. We managed to stay together for that final year, but there was one thing I never spoke of. That figure on the roof. I had seen it, I was sure, but I couldn’t explain it.

Next, a reunion...

The Truly Alien

 How can you portray an alien people? Whether it be a fantasy society, or a sentient kind from another world in some universe or other? It's something that's been around since people were making up stories of otherness. From the tales of fae and deities, to modern twists on other peoples and cultures in science fiction narratives, it's difficult to find any kind of approach that can really be called 'alien'.

The most basic problem is that many can't easily see outside their preconceptions of what is a sentient being. Our only examples are Earth-based fauna, specifically a certain hybrid bipedal primate which has reached every continent on Earth, is now one of the most populous mammals on the planet, and has an unusually complex society which splinters across abstract boundaries and esoteric concepts. I mean humans, of course. Some are more obvious than others, like octopuses which have proven problem-solving abilities, or dogs and cats which can understand elements of speech and even hold conversations to a degree. But others like just fish, or insects, or rodents, when used it's almost like a conscious subversion of the norm. It's easier with fantasies, as there's a greater level of fantastical license to draw on, but science fiction's always quite tricky. See any episode of Star Trek or Star Wars to see how difficult it is to break away from the humanoid norm.

The second problem, which is often both encountered and worked around in fantasy, is how much of real-world developments to incorporate into the fiction. Of course, nothing's entirely new in fiction, just a rearrangement of what's already happened. But if you want to create something about a large pantheon, do you mix and match or mimic a specific religion from the ancient past? When you create something about a spirit or fairy, do you risk accusations of cultural appropriation, or change enough that it's more of a homage than direct use? This issue particularly arises with both living religions such as Christianity or Hinduism, and still-living folklore traditions such as those of the Native American nations. The same problem applies to social structure, living conditions, and any kind of interpersonal culture. And that's before you get to reproduction!

There is a third, more insidious problem that's been pointed out in stories such as Avatar and Bright, which had respective alien and fantasy peoples based very explicitly on ethnic minorities. Minorities, what's more, that have deeply engrained but also deeply harmful social stereotypes that these stories encouraged rather than downplayed. While many stories show the normal encountering the unusual, leading to a natural feeling of otherness, many stories have an outward sense of integration, or at least coexistence. So when stories use real-world parallels, they can encourage the kind of behaviour that is supposed to be wrong in reality, simply through reinforcement of a toxic image. Racism is senseless, meaningless, and based on a groundless prejudice. By creating specific others based on these groups, we don't break down barriers, we reinforce them.

Now, I'm not above these problems. I've had to face them, succumbed to them, and had to rethink a story to get round them. But at least I recognise them, where many other authors might not even realise it. For all those who read Tolkien's Middle Earth only for its surface narrative without seeing the deeper cultural mingling and openness he demonstrates, who were bamboozled by Ursula le Guin's approach to science fiction. I ask this. Next time you read a book, look at the story and think; "I wonder where I could find a parallel to this?" And if you can't find it, that's the mark of a true author.

Short story - Aeternus

 Mortality doesn’t always claim its due. In a very few cases, it has found itself completely redundant. In the wake of the final fall of the Qliphoth from around the Sephirot, a single speck of their essences fell to Earth. This coalesced into a stone, which became the signet of a ring. When a person wears this ring, it triggers Conditional Infinite Cell Renewal.

Usually most of these are granted a tight limit on the number of times this gene can propagate itself before its collapse and failure, returning their mortality and nullifying the ring’s power for several years. But one in a thousand exhibit signs of continuous renewal. They become the ring’s keepers for extended periods of time, potentially centuries or millennia.

I have been assigned to this subject, hereafter designated in my dialogue as Subject Alpha. The first date of recognition is 50 BC, then known under the name of “Vercinget”. Subject was executed following his transportation to the capital of his conquerors following a great battle. Subject Alpha revived during transport from the city to a pyre, and escaped. Over the next fifty years, Subject Alpha is noted as having “died” 1687 times by a variety of methods; 347 accidental, 1286 caused in battle against various opponents, 23 due to environmental factors, 31 self-inflicted.

In subsequent centuries, Subject Alpha has become a less obvious figure. His deaths have totalled 34 over the following 2168 years; 20 accidental or environmental, 1 self-inflicted, 1 classified as “murder”, 5 caused by other factors.

Current subject file; CICR Subject Alpha, dateline 18-09-2120, location State of Oklahoma, United States, American Continent. Conditions; Post-Pestilence. 123-345-212363PZ, record open. Personal report from subject follows.

***

I’ve been called many names in my time. Ahasvar. Buttadeus. Isaac. He Who Wanders Eternal. My real name’s Hugo. At the moment.

Death is unpleasant, unnatural death more so. How do I know? It’s because I’ve experienced more deaths that I’m comfortable remembering. From my ‘first’ as an old man succumbing to heart failure on a bed inside an infirmary chapel in the 1100s, to later ones as a young man caught in drive-by shootings or natural accidents in the late 2010s. But how am I able to survive all these deaths?

Apparently, I’m Death’s Watchman, someone who goes wandering the world and keeps a metaphoric finger on the pulse of humanity. The last one fulfilled their term and was allowed death, so I got picked at random from Death’s handbook of suitable souls. Mine is a millennium-long contract with Death to keep tabs on what goes on, whether there are gonna be wars or famines or plagues or purges or suchlike. I feel large numbers of dead, and when that happens Death appears and collects their souls, sending them for judgement in the Beyond. It’s a grim job – no pun intended – but it comes with a lot of travel.

At the time I’ve decided to remember, I was lying in a patch of scrub rubbing my chest, where some smartass cowboy with a gun had tried to shoot me. Pointless. All he did was kill himself, blowing a hole through his lungs. Basically any unnatural death I suffer is reflected back at its perpetrator. Quite unpleasant when I got caught by some pal of Gille de Rais and he.... well, he died in my place. It’s like there’s a huge mirror around me that reflects death, and reflects it back with deadly accuracy when it’s anything caused by another human being. Death says it’s divine justice, but I call it crap.

This period’s pretty much on a level with most of my other adventures. It’s while I was in the Mid West in 1849. The world had gone made for gold, as could be evidenced by the maniacal prospector who thought I was intruding on his “patch” and shot at me before I could explain. Guess he was lucky. He didn’t need to hang for my murder, only be found with a bullet from his own gun in his chest. He’d probably be put down either as a suicide or unsolved murder. Satan knew there were more than enough of them about the place. I didn’t envy the guy his quick way out.

Most people won’t tell you this, since they’re not in a position to. Dying hurts. It’s bloody painful being choked from behind. Or being stabbed, shot, falling off cliffs, drowning in the sea, burning to death, being buried, even once being stoned. But I didn’t die. No matter how many times, I never died. So when she appeared before me and asked me that question, I wasn’t in a mood to be polite.

“Tell me, do you still wish to live?”

The question was idiotic. Of course I wanted to live. Who didn’t wanna live? But I also wanted to die. Here I was, aching like hell because some son of a bitch shot me over something silly, going through the same weird process I’d gone through how many hundred times before... I didn’t feel like being polite.

“What the hell d’you think?” I spat the words at her, “You don’t think I enjoy this, do you? I’m not like those creeps who need it to get high.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “I hardly see the need for such rudeness. You are wearing something. Something that has attached itself to you quite strongly. I am here to ask whether you are still willing to be its custodian.”

“F--- off!”

You get the idea of what I said, I guess. She didn’t answer. Instead she simply vanished. Damned angels, always coming back to clarify things for their bloody records. Oh well, guess this rant's over. I didn’t like writing it, but since they asked whether I should file a formal complaint, I have done. That's it! Finished! Finito! Wish I could...

The Body of Fantasy

Don't be fooled by the title, this isn't about the entire corpus of fantasy literature, which goes back as long as people have been making stories about the magical and supernatural. This is about the body types of fantasy. As in those slender elves, those perfectly proportioned humans, those stocky dwarfs, those skeletal wraiths, those bulky orcs, those snake-shaped lizard things... All those hokey physical stereotypes that are the real thing holding modern fantasy back in the visual medium.

It hit me while I was playing a session of Dragon Age: Inquisition. It's one of the most traditional fantasy universes out there in terms of the physical builds of its peoples. I've always had an uncomfortable relationship with the game. I loved my playthrough as a British-accented Qunari Rogue who freed the mages, brought peace to an empire, had all companions friends and surviving by the end, and romanced the character Cassandra, but there was always an underlying discomfort that had nothing to do with its perversely addictive nature or criminal loading times. It was only when I was playing as a human mage that it hit me. Everyone looks the same!

In this universe, humans are a particular type of well-muscled but not bulky type with mostly rounded faces, Qunari are walking tanks that look like bodybuilders with angular faces, dwarfs are stocky with square faces, and elves are slender-framed with vaguely oriental teardrop faces. Females are all slenderer and often shorter variations on these themes. There's no fatties, no emaciated figures, no odd facial shapes with a few exceptions within the main cast. There's plenty of ethnic and sexual diversity, and more gender equality than you find in most sci-fi, but the world looks like they share the same pair of parents across an entire nation. Or five.

While this works in some instances in visual fiction, it only really works for me when coupled with a stylised fantastical art style. Dragon's Crown uses physical fantasy tropes a lot, but its exaggerated and fantastical art gives it a unique excuse. Dragon Age doesn't have that excuse, as it seems to aim for a realistic style. That visual clash in my mind makes me unwilling to invest in this world, as in other respects they seem to be aiming for a realistic depiction of the great tapestry that is "people".

This is a problem that besets much mainstream traditional fantasy. Orcs have the same problem as Qunari of all being large hulking whatsits, and when they're smaller they tend to be shunted into being goblins or similar. I know for a fact that those idealised figures aren't healthy, as their fat distribution is completely skewed and they have an unhealthy lack of the stuff. But I know for a fact that someone wielding a large weapon, whether they be and elf or a human or whatever, can't be a slender little thing. The weight proportion would be completely off. Call me picky, but I'd prefer some physical realism even in deep stylization, or magic allowing the blade to hover without needing to be held at all.

This whole thing is similar to the old argument of women in realistic armour, or just armour in general in fantasy, but physical stereotyping of peoples is more perverse as it reinforces several ethnic stereotypes. During a test piece I did that may yet create something, I deliberately broke away from these physical stereotypes. One of the main characters was an orc, a bookish type who doesn't fight and thus has a very different physique to the stereotype.

I know there are plenty of examples floating about that counter this stereotyping, but it's still common and pervasive enough that the issue should be raised. This most influential of fantasy visual codes needs to bend to modern life and allow something more into its standard, rather than confine this variation to special exceptions. Which would you rather see in your apparently grim and realistic fantasy universe? An elf greatsword wielder who was a slim little thing, or an elf greatsword wielder who could actually use the thing without shredding their muscles?

Please, please point me to any examples you know that defy this physical stereotyping in an appealing, original way. If you can find them...

Short story - Falling

Burning. The worst possible fate for anyone to suffer, mortal or otherwise. I fell from that final battle on fire, my wings shredded, my horns shattered into fragments which tumbled ahead of me like sentinels announcing my disgrace. I clawed at the clouds in my futile despair. As the vaulting arches of the City vanished into a grey fog, I struggled to remember my name. The pain was stripping me of everything, of all I had been and would ever be. All that existed now was my disgrace, and the eternity of torment which awaited me in the depths.

I forget how long I fell. My immolation drove all sense of time and distance to the winds. I tried covering my eyes, but the fire was within my being. My sight became scarred and twisted by the flames of His displeasure. It was now my burden and my solace. I dimly noticed the sunlight above fading into nothing, as if I were sinking into a bottomless abyss. There was a brief flash of Typhoneous wrath with lightning cracking the charged air, a heavy oppression as yellow sulphurous clouds clung to my battered form, a fresh blazing cold that stung my burned and cracked skin

Then came the impact. A landing so heavy that the stone beneath me cracked. I felt every part of my being shudder and crack, then a rush of cold and raging heat stung my skin anew. I lay there for a while, incapable of movement. My eyes squeezed tight shut, my broken and bleeding nails digging into the fragmented ground, the stumps of my wings moving in pathetic circles. Finally the pain seemed to lessen, and I opened my eyes. I instantly regretted it.

Around me was a half-ruined temple, an Ionic ruin scarred by tempests of flame and ash belching from nearby cracks in the blackened stone. The paving I had landed on was all but reduced to dust, perhaps by repeated falls over the generations of my kind. It took a moment to regain my balance, and my first few steps were torture, my feet searing on the white-hot surface of the rock. I struggled to reach the edge of the temple and its steps down towards a natural terrace path. A single ribbon of smooth surface cut between the razor-sharp rocks around the cracks of fire and a sheer drop into a river of flame.

As I reached it, a terrible burning wind struck me in the face. I barely shielded my eyes in time, but my hand was further warped and twisted by the blast. I screamed, and my voice was cut off as my throat was burned and scarred. I struggled to maintain my balance against this new wave of pain, and took the path one step at a time. It felt like an eternity before I reached its end, a jump down onto a vast plane of basalt riddled with smoking cracks. I jumped down, and felt it groan under my weight. Walking forward carefully, I shied away from wherever I felt my meagre support begin to give. I did not know if I could survive being plunged into the flame of this realm. Beyond the basalt plane was a ridge of rock blunted by time. It stood proud of all other promontories, like a beacon for any lost soul.

I climbed up and rested on its spire, somewhat comforted by a less intense breeze. Nothing about me was visible due to the choking fog which clung to every surface. It was as I lay there that I looked myself over to see the damage of my fall. If my tears had not been sealed by flame’s brutal touch, I would have wept. My beautiful skin was turned to a rocky hide, my feet malformed into monstrous claw-like pads by the surrounding landscape, my arms warped and twisted from their former perfection, my wings destroyed save for two charred stumps, and I felt my face’s scarred appearance with burns and charring augmented by embedded fragments of rock.

In this moment, I heard a shriek from above. My blurring vision took in crystalline birds flying over my monstrous surroundings, their eyes streaming flame and their wings singing in the smoke-choked atmosphere. I slowly rose to my feet, and tried shouting. All that came from my mouth was a hoarse whisper. I wanted them to take me, to claw at me, to tear me to pieces and end my misery. They ignored my pathetic gasp and continued flying into the endless dark.

Just then, another blast of flame came from nowhere, striking my face. I felt my eyes burn away and screamed, swallowing fire. I collapsed again, but eventually revived. I expected to see only darkness, but instead everything seemed clearer than before. The fog had lifted to a degree, revealing the scale of my surroundings; a great field of volcanic rock and flame stretching on as far as my eyes could now see. The fog grew thinner, and my line of sight greater by the second. I tried not to think about why my sight had suddenly cleared, and my growing acclimatisation to this infernal place.

At first glance all ways were impassable through either razor rocks or rivers of fire. Then I saw a single way where no light shone or any spike rose to touch the cloaked sky. I also saw something glinting in the distance, like a polished mirror or crystal. Beginning to ignore the pain across and inside my body, I scrambled down from my haven and found myself on a slag-covered path running between the crags. I pressed forward towards the light, and stopped dead in astonishment.

Growing from a niche in the rock was a flower. A flower of clear crystal like none I had seen in the City or any of my travels into the World Beyond and Below. I reached out, felt its petals, then snapped my hand back as its razor-edged petal cut my raw skin. Continuing along the path, I saw other flowers of other crystal types, encompassing all the rainbow’s hues. It was like walking through the fields surrounding the City, although if I touched any of them I would feel their displeasure.

The crystal flowers guided me along the path until I reached a fork. Both ways looked promising, but I knew not whether one might take me to certain death. I crouched on the ground, finally beginning to ignore the protests of my burning limbs and tortured skin. It was as I crouched there that someone first saw me. Someone who would guide me to a shrouded destiny.

The voice came sharply from above, holding command and absolute authority. ‘Who dares walk this path?!’

I glanced up. What I saw might have been a kindred soul, though were more warped than I. The beautiful horns that had once graced their head were little more than splinters jutting up from a ridged and scarred forehead. Its eyes were two glowing pools of fire in a sunken face, and the mouth was unseen beneath a mop of shadows flowing about a scarred head. Its body was beyond description, supporting itself on legs that had been reduced to emaciated articulated pins. If any comparison were possible, it would be to an emaciated black cat starved of all nourishment and love. The figure jumped down, landing with such force that the stone beneath them cracked.

‘I ask again, who dares walk this path?!’

I tried to answer, but my voice failed me. I fought against the urge to run, standing my ground as the abomination approached. It looked at a few patches of my skin that were still only lightly scarred.

‘A new arrival. So you think to traverse this path without experiencing the full weight of your sin. Bold. And stranger still is that you found this way so soon. Your face bears the marks of the Flaming Brand. That should have blinded you completely for a time, leaving you a crawling worm amid these flames and burning stones.’ the figure raised its hand to indicate the spires around us. ‘But here you are, walking a path few have trod so quickly since their fall.’

‘I know not why I came here!’ I’d finally found my voice. ‘I do not want to be here. I want to get away from this place!’

The figure laughed, a cold snapping sound. ‘This place knows no end. Only those pardoned by Him have a chance to leaving and seeing the City once again. If you would seek some shelter, come to the Citadel. You found this path, so you might as well walk it. But know this. You do so alone, as all we outcasts did.’

The black smoke pulled away like wings extending, and the figure rose in a blur of darkness, fading from sight. I slumped, my strength taxed beyond its measure. After a time resting there, I moved on, taking the left fork in the half-hearted hope that it would lead me to some place of sanctuary. It felt like an eternity before I came to the end of the path. My luck – if luck it was – had guided me down the right path. I came out beyond the field of sharp spires into something....even worse.

I stepped into the field of blood-red grass and felt my feet being shredded. I jumped back with a cry of pain, and saw the grass waving and fluctuating as if beckoning my return. I looked at my foot, and again tried in vain to weep. I wondered if going back and taking the other path might help. But with my foot in this condition, how could I make that long journey back and perhaps a longer journey down another route? Might it not lead to a dead end? Or something far worse than even this? There was only one way forward.

I braved the grass again, my bloodied feet protesting. Not only the razor edges of the grass, but the intense heat rising from their roots caused me pain. The first few steps I took were agony, almost causing me to fall into that deadly lawn. But after a time I was hardened to the pain, and my wish to escape to the mentioned “Citadel” overrode any misgivings I felt about walking through this horrific field. Nothing compared to the verdant grasslands surrounding the City. And certainly not as painful.

It felt like hours walking through that terrible place, my feet screaming with each step. Their screams were slowly fading in my mind, as my eyes grew ever better adjusted to the hellish landscape. In the distance, I fancied I saw six towers forming a great circle around a spire with flame at its tip. The vision passed quickly behind a veil of volcanic cloud, belched up from one of the nearer mountains. There were points were the mountains, or rather their horn-like foothills, butted up against the red meadow. I saw the glint of crystal flowers shining on their slopes, but I strayed not from my path. The less pain I could endure, the better for my sanity and eventual succour.

At least, I thought so then. It was as I thought this that I was struck in the back by something, a great shape that knocked me flat into the grass. The pain was horrific, as I threw up my arms to protect my face and felt the grass stab me in hundreds of places across my body. I tried to raised myself, but a weight pressed into my back, and something like a foot played with one of the stumps of my obliterated wings. I looked up, and saw the thing which I chastised my finding the path, the clinging smoke fluctuating between their dual role of fluid locks and unnatural wings.

‘None walk this path without feeling its full pain. Bow your head. Come! Bow! Bow and scrape! Surrender your heavenly pride and receive succour from your last remaining home.’

One of its spiked feet struck my head and began forcing me down towards the ground with terrible strength. I resisted with all my might, and fixed it with a gaze filled with something I had never felt before. Something that I could feel granting me an alien strength. Hatred.

‘Never.’

My words seemed to shock the figure. They pulled their foot away from my head and stepped off my back. I got up, wincing at the pain from my wounds.

‘What is your name?’ asked the figure.

I told them. As I watched, I saw the figure collapsed to their knees at the sound of my name, then kowtow into the grass, which in turn became flat and harmless. I pushed myself to my feet, and the figure spoke.

‘You have come. After spirals uncounted, you have come. You must still traverse our land, a pilgrimage of agony. But at its end, I shall await for you.’

The figure’s shadowy locks became wings once more, sailing into the air as if lifted by strings and drifting beyond my sight. I slowly looked ahead of me, where nothing but pain and labour seemed to wait. But if I did nothing, I would be condemned to wander this land in aimless despair for an eternity.

I remember little of what came next. It all passed in a blur, like some dream I could only remember in fragments. When I at last came upon my destination, the end of my pilgrimage, I was nothing like my old self. All that I was had been stripped away, and all I could be lay before me in its demonic majesty. The Citadel, tall and terrible, beckoned. I walked with stiff feet along the bridge of obsidian linking it to the rest of these Hadean lands, and saw ranks of twisted monsters lining my path, half-hidden by the haze and bowing their heads in acknowledgement of their deference.

When I finally reached the Citadel’s doors, the strange figure appeared once more, its body taking on a stronger feline appearance. It bowed so low that the tips of its long braids of smoke scraped the polished floor.

‘Your throne awaits.’

‘My throne?’

‘You are the True Ruler who has been prophesied. Let thy will be done.’

I stepped past my feline guide into a great hall. A stone-carved throne shining with gemstones greeted my fire-worn eyes. In the polished surfaces around me I saw my changed appearance. I might have cried out in terror, but I did not. I was elated at my change. I was no longer His servant. I was something more, something perhaps far greater than any of His creations. I sat upon the throne, and all of the realm kowtowed. The feline figure appeared at my left hand and spoke.

‘To complete your ascension, speak thy name.’

That was the first time I had ever felt so alive, so completely in control of all I was and all I could be. I spoke the words that only He had heard before now.

‘My name is Lu–’