Bujold

Today I'm writing about one of my favorite authors, Lois McMaster Bujold. She's written a great many books, most of which are incredible. Any year that she releases a book or novella and it doesn't win a Hugo or a Nebula, it's something of an upset. While none of her books make my top five, or even my top ten (probably), a LOT of them make my top thirty; her writing is consistently good. Even better, she's (finally) writing the novel we've wanted since Civil Campaign starring Ivan; if nothing else, it's going to be great since her last two novels had antagonists who weren't really in Vorkosigan's weight class; Ivan doesn't quite have the same skills and position.

Her writing has some interesting characteristics. She writes her male characters better than her female characters, a reversal from what you would typically expect. In her science fiction universe, she smartly avoids the FTL technology pitfalls of the Warp Drive or similar engines in favor of a stationary wormhole network, making certain that geography still has meaning in the far future :). And if you happen to care about this kind of thing, she had GLBT characters decades before Rowling retroactively decided that Dumbledore was gay.

Her science fiction isn't really about the technology, though, except for her fascination with the reproductive technologies offered by the "uterine replicator." It's a nice change, though, from a focus on the starships and guns of the future to a relatively ordinary medical advancement (compared to immortality meds or cyberware). In some of her earlier books, she was actually developing a larger plot about telepaths, but it seemed to have been dropped by now.

Instead, her fiction is about creating some very fascinating character and using the unusual setting to create great stories for them. The primary character of her science fiction novels, Miles Vorkosigan, grows throughout the series, from the somewhat awkward scifi "coming of age" story to the more mature stories as he grows through life. And, amazing, the novels don't end when he finally settles down, marries, and has kids.

Maturity is a word that's often misused, I think. Too often, we end up using it to describe the dark and the violent. The scenes of "R" rated movies might not be appropriate for children, but I wouldn't ever call what happens therein to be particularly "adult." :) (I think there was a Calvin and Hobbes about that). Actual maturity, I think involves juxtaposing the light and the dark, the good and the bad of life. 100% Grimdark is about as mature as a teenager painting his room all black.

Now, Bujold often seems to enjoy using setups and ideas from romance novels into her works, which I'm not exactly a fan of. Shards of Honor is basically a straight scifi romance novel; that and Warrior's Apprentice are her worst books, at least in the Vorkosigan series. She has a certain optimism and faith in overall humanity that some might find annoying. And some of her characters can be, at times, almost unbearably whiny.

But she's still one of the best 'genre' writers today. If you're interested in starting the Vorkosigan series, I'd probably recommend starting with The Vor Game instead of Warrior's Apprentice though, then double back to read WA if you liked TVG.

Bonus Post: Calling It

I generally think I'm pretty good at predicting the plot twists and turns of fiction, especially since I started writing my own stuff. One day I'm going to post a guideline about how to predict that stuff, in case you want to be the guy telling your friend that you knew he was dead the entire time (like I did, the first time I saw Ghost*!).

But instead, I'm writing a short post about Wheel of Time. This is essentially a longshot, and is only actually relevant to fans of the series, but I'm doing it anyways. The Dark One is, or is somehow closely related to, Balefire.

Seriously, think about it. He's the Dark One. An evil force. What is he supposed to be? A man? A horrible fanged monster? That Rand** is supposed to kill in some kind of sword-fight? As much as I love sword-fighting (not WoT swordfights though, which are far, far worse than literary shakycam), after all this build up a simple fight with the source of all evil would be kind of lame. That's what midbosses are for.

No, the Dark One wants to destroy Creation, to undo. Isn't that what Balefire essentially is? Destruction? Maybe that's the point of the chaos, the Forsaken, everything: to drive the world into a point where balefire use becomes necessary to survive. No, this theory doesn't take into account everything, but I do like it a lot more than the Dark One just being some really powerful guy.

*I'm kidding. I have never seen Ghost. I never want to see Ghost. Please don't force me to see Ghost at gunpoint.

**Why is he called the Dragon Reborn? Or, rather, why was Lews Therin called the Dragon, other than 'Fantasy Must Have Dragons'? Does anyone in WoT even know what a Dragon is?

Creating and Editing

My dad and I had an interesting discussion the other night. We weren't talking about writing in particular, but he told me that editing was easy, but creating was hard.

But I have to disagree. I think maybe he was confusing editing with criticism or negative feedback; just about everyone would agree that destruction is far easier than creation. But editing isn't criticism or negative feedback. It's about using feedback to make something greater than what it was, while still retaining its core competencies and strengths (or, if you prefer, its soul).

Creation is easy. It's fun and exciting to create new things, to build where nothing existed before. And when working creatively, quality isn't the first priority either; it's about experimentation. You can't ever be afraid of bad ideas when you're creating. In the words of Nanowrimo, it's about turning off your inner editor during that month in November.

Editing is hard. And worse, it's not fun; it requires discipline. It's especially agonizing to painstakingly drag your own work through the coals, to figure out where all the errors are and how to fix them without destroying the book altogether.

As a side note, it seems to me that a good editor can make or break a book almost as surely as a good writer; I think most fans of the series would agree that Wheel of Time really suffers from poor editing in its later books. And many times, in fact almost all times, writers thank their editors in some notes page, or even the dedication page.

But I mean, they helped build the damn book in the first place. Some special note of thanks doesn't quite seem like enough for the second most important determinant of quality. Why don't editors get their names on the front page of the novel? Maybe it's because we think that readers don't base their purchasing decisions on the editor of books, but I'm not sure there's much data to support either argument. If I was publishing a book, I'd probably push for my editor's name to appear on the front cover of the book.

Antiheroes

I hear the word 'antihero' tossed around discussing characters now and then. It seems to mean different things to different people. While I'd like to think that the term originated during the Nineties (with all the baggage that comes from that decade), according to this it originates from a few centuries back.

Some people seem to use the term to describe a bad guy who happens to fill the role of hero in the story. Other people use the term to describe a hero who isn't bright, shiny, and morally perfect; to them, the only real heroes are the perfect ones. I can't think of too many 'perfect' people in fiction, myself; basically, only Raoden from Elantris comes to mind. Maybe Superman, at least when they don't screw the character up?


The quintessential, even definitive, antihero in my mind is Elric of Melnibon, Moorcock's anti-Conan. And I like my definition for an antihero. An antihero is a protagonist that an author hasn't bothered to make likeable or engaging.

That sounds like a condemnation of the concept, and it's true. I hate the idea of antiheroes. Because I hate reading stories where I neither like nor respect the protagonist. And to me, at least, likeability isn't really a measure of ethics or morality, but just personality. The Gray Mouser and Fafhrd are arguably terrible people, just like Elric, but I find them far more likeable (what's really amazing is that I can spell Fafhrd without having to look it up).

Having such a low opinion of antiheroes, or just plain unlikeable protagonists, I tried to make one of the main characters of my fantasy novel No More Kings as engaging and charismatic as possible. Because, well, he's a murderous thug with no value on human life, at least as a general concept. So he's funny, confident, and otherwise likeable. I hope the methods I used work.

There's also talk about the idea of flawed heroes or characters, a concept I don't quite understand. The idea of character flaws only really makes sense if you believe there's some ideal mold from which all people are cast, that we're all striving towards some concept of perfection and falling far short. What would an unflawed character look like, exactly? People have characteristics, some we might like and consider 'good,' others we might dislike and consider 'bad', but I can't imagine what a 'zero defects' individual would look like.

What is this model that people are using, whenever they measure a character against it and determine them to be 'flawed?' Is it their religious figure of choice? Some other fictional character? Themselves*? Seriously, someone help me out here.

I might occasionally use the term 'character flaw' myself, just as a matter of habit after seeing it used by everyone else in the world, but I hate it whenever I catch myself using it.

*Not true. Most people don't really like themselves. Try giving someone a compliment and seeing how quickly they refute it. It's amazing.

Inspiration and My Quest To Write YA Novel

Evidently, one of the most common questions fielded by authors is where they get their ideas. Now, not being a real, published writer, I don't know if the entire process changes with the emergence of external deadlines and real pressure, but I would have to guess it doesn't. I get my ideas from my life, and the prospect of running out of ideas is about as realistic as the danger of running out of thoughts. It's not going to happen.

Inspirations for stories, characters, and whatever can come from the strangest places. Moreover, I'm not too proud to steal a good idea if I see one.  One of the comic strips I read is called xkcd, and a while back it ran this comic strip. 

The writer of this comic strip makes a pretty good point, I think: those alternate world children's fantasies would probably screw up your life pretty badly, once the initial boost to self-confidence wears off. The most logical reasoning you could come up with as an adult, assuming you were smart and never told anyone about what happened to you, is that you had some kind of hallucination.

Then I realized that there's more than just an amusing comic in that concept; there was the potential for more. I think I could write a decent book based on that comic. The typical protagonist of the children's alternate world fantasy story, years later in his life, searching for answers. Discovering that he wasn't the only one to head to "Narnia," and trying to help the other kids who've also face the dubious choice of lying through their teeth or being thrown into the juvenile loony bin. Learning the real reason why the hell anyone would want the help of children to solve their problems (I sure as hell wouldn't). And maybe realizing that his time in this fantasy world left more scars than he initially thought.

All of that sounds like a lot of introspection and whining to me, so I'd need to make it, you know, interesting. My guiding principal when writing is to try to make it something I'd enjoy reading as well (for reasons other than my narcissism and egomania, of course). (Un)Fortunately, I have a lot of book ideas in my head, so I haven't bothered to even start writing this one, even though my preliminary title idea amuses me greatly: Veteran of the Dragon Wars.

One of the problems, however, is that this book idea seems almost ideal for a YA, or Young Adult, book. The character idea in my head is almost young enough; I could probably cut off a few years if I had to. Except the problem is that I don't quite know how to write a YA novel.

But I want to. I really, really want to. Why? Marketability. I realize this makes me sound like a heartless mercenary, but it's the truth.   I'd love to actually sell a book for money, instead of doing it as an enjoyable hobby. And YA books typically involve many of the fantastical elements that I prefer, so it's not as if I'd be writing a book that I'd hate.

According to what I've read, there's much a greater demand for YA books than fantasy novels marketed towards adults. I suspect that one of the reasons is that the bookshelves in the science fiction section are filled with old books, classics of the genre; there are no such classics in the YA section, unless you count Harry Potter.

And, sadly, I think there's also lower standards of quality for books intended towards children and youths. Why else do we let so many celebrities write their own children's books? Or maybe, hopefully, it's just a lack of understanding as to what those enigmatic young people actually want, so people are willing to take more risks.

Right now I'm writing a completely noncommercial story just to bring my skills back to what they were after I stopped writing for a few months. After I finish up this story and one of the unfinished books, I might try my hand at writing a YA novel, maybe one based on teh seed of the xkcd strip.

The worst fictional human being...

I was going to make some long post about the absolute worst human being in all of fiction, the most hated, the most reviled. Maybe mention some people I thought were close. But it's not a close. There's a clear frontrunner. In about half the movies I watch, I end up rooting for the bad guys anyway. Not this guy.

Burke, Carter J

He has to be the least likeable villain of all time. Although I have to say, casting Paul Reiser as a villain in a science fiction movie is a stroke of genius. We already hate the guy, now the movie gives us a reason! Amusingly, even the actor's parents, when watching Aliens, wanted Burke to die horribly.

He betrays everyone just for a percentage of the profits, even after seeing how dangerous the Aliens are. And he's not only evil, but also incompetent, creating plans to have almost no chance of working. Even his clothes are bad; if you're going to be an evil corporate guy, at least wear the proper suit.

Fight Club: Choose Your Weapon (Part Two)

Okay, I've finally gotten around to writing the second part of the last Fight Club post. I blame the Olympics for the delay, proof that you can make me care about anything if you make the stage big enough.

6. The Dagger
Daggers and knives were fairly common as tools back in Ye Olden Days, especially the nebulous quasi-historical period where a lot of fantasy fiction takes place. They're going to be a little longer and more dangerous than the pocket knives of today, but probably about as ubiquitous. The truth remains that if you bring a knife to a sword fight, though, you're going to lose.
Example Characters: Thieves and cutthroats, Min from Wheel of Time (with many others), Locke Lamora, Vlad Taltos.
What It Says About the Character: They prefer surprise to straight up fights (who doesn't, though), they're probably not trained in fighting, and they might be kind of dumb if they treat it as a primary weapon instead of an emergency backup or a tool (or a parrying weapon).

7. The Bow
Bows come in two basic varieties: bows you use on foot, and bows you fire from a horse. Unless someone is creating some kind of clear Mongol analogue, bows in fiction are generally restricted to the infantry variety. 
Example Characters: Legolas, Birgitte from Wheel of Time, Katniss from Hunger Games
What It Says About the Character: Really, no one in fiction uses a bow if they're not some kind of expert shot. They're also more likely to be incredibly fast or agile. If a female character is going to be some kind of warrior, chances are good that they will prefer the bow.
Unfortunately, firing a bow, especially one with a good draw weight needed for range/armor penetration, requires a lot of upper body strength. And just like a gun, shooting a bow while running around will tank your accuracy. I'd imagine an archer would more likely take a good position in a fight and stand there raining feathered death upon his enemies than running around shield surfing.

8. The Flail
Most depictions of the flail suck, it's that simple. The flail is the spiked-ball and chain weapon, in case you're unfamiliar with it (insert marriage joke here). The problem is that the chain is too long, so you'd have as much chance of hitting yourself as the enemy. The trick is to have a longer haft and a shorter chain, allowing flexibility without risking smashing yourself in the head. The real strength of the flail is its ability to bypass a shield.
Example Characters: No one in fiction uses a flail. The closest I could think is the Witch King from RotK, but that's really not the greatest example of the weapon, since it's a one ton weight with a chain attached. More wrecking ball, less flail.
What It Says About the Character: No data points means no graph, sorry. Man, someone has to write a flail user, fast.

9. The Mace/Hammer
Basic variations on the same idea: a hafted weight that smashes your opponent. All the fun of a club, but more top heavy. The great part about maces and hammers was how effective they were against armored opponents; mail was relatively ineffective against the mass of these things.
Example Characters: Perrin from Wheel of Time,  other fantasy blacksmiths*, holy men**
What It Says About the Character: For starters, this is another one of those unsubtle weapons, so chances are pretty good the character is notably strong. And anyone who uses one of these weapons, as opposed to an axe, is probably both kind-hearted and civilized.

*Seriously, what is with fantasy's love affair with blacksmithing? I have no idea.
**Due to a misinterpretation of the Bayeux Tapestry, for a while there was the belief that ecclesiastical figures (priests, bishops, and the like) were forbidden from shedding blood. Therefore, they used maces, because smashing apart someone's skull is one hundred percent blood free. Nope, sorry. 

10. The Greatsword
Or the two handed sword. Cutting edge, sharpened point.  Unfortunately, when portrayed in fiction it's nearly always misused. The lower part of the sword was unsharpened, allowing the user to 'choke up' on it for additional maneuvers. That's probably not the proper historical term for it, btw. :)
 Example Characters: Guts from Berserk, Tazendra (Porthos) from the Phoenix Guards
What It Says About the Character: The greatsword is typified by a more wild, uncontrolled style, similar to an axe, even if that's not really how it would be used in real life. Think of it as an axe, just less so.

11. The Shield
While not technically a weapon, it's probably the most important piece of gear for a warrior other than their weapon. It's the best defense against any kind of projectile weapon (other than a wall or something), and it's much easier to parry with a shield than it is with any kind of weapon. Think about how much smaller the target area is going to be for a guy with a shield.
Example Characters: Boromir from Lord of the Rings, Spartans and their wannabes,
What It Says About the Character: Shields are more typically found amongst the military, so a shield user is going to be a current or former member of a military unit, in contrast to the more common 'lone wolf' style characters who run around by themselves. They're likely to be more 'professional' than most characters.

Random Thought: My idea for a new TV show

You combine the concepts from two other shows. In the hit ABC show Castle, a mystery writer teams up with a detective to solve crimes. In the not-so-hit NBC show Grimm, a detective fights hidden monsters like werewolves and shit.

In this show, a police officer teams up with a fantasy writer to fight hidden monsters.

Cop: "What do you know about manticores?
Writer: "Goddamn near everything."

Fight Club: Choose Your Weapon! (Part One)

In today's post about Fight Club, I'm talking about weapons, specifically the low-tech weapons I enjoy, as opposed to guns. I might do a future post talking about different kinds of guns, but that's for another day. What weapon a character uses is as much a statement about who he is as a practical choice for dealing with the battles of their time; it's the "shoes" of a fantasy world.

1. The Sword:
Specifically, I mean a one-handed blade, typically used for slashing, but often with a sharpened point as well. The kind of weapon that everyone thinks of when I write 'sword.'
Example Characters: Almost everyone in genre fiction who uses a low-tech weapon?
What It Says About the Character: Absolutely nothing.

2. The Spear:
Long haft, sharp point. Spears are criminally underused by fictional characters, although they enjoy many advantages. For starters, they have great reach. They're pretty easy to use. A mass formation of them will absolutely destroy a cavalry charge (I think the 13th Warrior is the only movie where this actually happens though). They're one of the few varieties of weapon that can be thrown effectively.
Example Characters: Matrim Cauthon* from Wheel of Time. Kaladin from Way of Kings. half the characters in Dynasty Warriors, Hordes of Faceless Soldiers
What It Says About the Character: Comes from a common background and remembers the fact.
*To be honest, Mat Cauthon doesn't really use a spear. If you read how he fights, it's clear that he uses it more like a quarterstaff; he makes a lot of wide, slashing attacks and rarely takes advantage of its reach.

3. The Morningstar:
A scary-looking spiked mace or club. Probably pretty easy to use, but I have no idea how you'd carry one safely.
Example Characters: Ummm...Sauron? Not many characters spring to mind. Anyone have anyone else?
What It Says About the Character: They're the bad guy. Heroes don't use these weapons. Ever.

4. The Axe:
I'm not making any distinction between one and two handed axes here. They're both brutal offensive weapons that swing with a lot of force and mass behind them. In truth, though, you're much more likely to see a guy using a two handed axe than a one-handed one.
Example Characters: Gimli from Lord of the Rings. Druss the Legend from Legend. Other dwarves who want to be like Gimli. Vikings.
What It Says About the Character: They're straightforward and unsubtle, much like their weapon. They're going to be dangerous as hell in a fight, since no one carries an axe if they don't know how to use it. Also, typically anyone who uses an axe is going to be the strongest guy around.

5. The Rapier:
The light swords favored by swashbucklers, musketeers, and pirates. They don't get a lot of respect compared to heavier swords, despite the advantage of their speed.
Example Characters:  Aerich (Athos), Khaavren (D'Artagnan), and Pel (Aramis) from the Phoenix Guards, Vlad Taltos from Jhereg, Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Carribean, Cazio from the Briar King, Zorro from the Curse of Capistrano (that's right, I know the name of the first Zorro story!)
What It Says About the Character: They're overly civilized, have at least pretensions of aristocracy. Most are probably arrogant, and fancy themselves as being quite popular with ladies. They're my be effete or decadent, and characters who use heavier weapons probably think of them as wimps by comparison.

Coming tomorrow I finish this with five more weapons!

Fight Club: Making It Matter

Raymond Chandler, famed noir writer who also helped adapt many of his colleague's work to the big screen, had a rule: "when in doubt, have a man come through a door with a gun in his hand." The idea being to stuff action scenes into your novel or story whenever there was a lull in the plot, or when you weren't sure how to proceed. 

Since I seem to be an endless font of negativity (in truth, it's just easier to write about flaws than strengths), I'm going to disagree. If we're talking about video games, or even movies, then Chandler's Guy With Gun Axiom is essentially correct. In fact, there's an argument for action movies that there's too much talking. Maybe someone should make an actual movie like that...oh wait, they did, it's called the Expendables.

Action scenes are always fun in video games and movies, since the audience gets drunk on the visual splendor of the fighting and the challenge of it, in the case of video games. To many, the combat of the game is the entire point, but others simply pad out a two hour plot into a twelve hour game with tons of random battles (Final Fantasy, anyone?). Even a mediocre movie can be salvaged with good fights.

In a book, there's no visuals to really convey the action. Don't get me wrong, a good fight scene in a book can be pretty awesome, especially since books always deal so much better with the internal aspects of a fight, the thoughts and fears of the characters made evident to the reader. But could you imagine someone making a good written version of the Matrix Lobby Scene? No, it would suck. And you certainly couldn't get away with a fifty page action scene in a book, the way you can get away with an hour long fight scene in a movie (an awesome movie, that is).

So whenever there's a fight in a book, it's can't just be gratuitous violence. It needs to serve a larger purpose. At best, it's going to be more than a battle between people. It will be a battle between two ideas or concepts, or the final, violent catharsis of pages of more cerebral turmoil for the main character, turmoil that he has endured for pages. Or maybe it's to introduce some key characterization or world information (mainly for sci/fi fantasy). Maybe it somehow introduces some important plot point.

Assuming you're striving to be more than a pulp writer cranking out dozens of stories per week to meet deadlines, I don't think it's  a good idea to follow Chandler's advice here. I love fight scenes in movies, and I actually enjoy writing them quite a bit, but it's too easy to be seduced by them. They need to mean something, so I always try to ask myself what these fights mean within the larger context of the stories and themes of the novel.

Or, if you enjoy books without writing them, ask yourself what 'purpose' is there to any kind of fight or action scene in a book you enjoy. If the books you enjoy don't have cool action scenes, then I pity you, and you're probably an English teacher or something. :)

My next blog post should be my last entry into Fight Club (at least for now), and I hope you've enjoyed them.

Fight Club: Everybody Was Sword Fighting

As I mentioned previously, I like sword fights in fiction. I think they're cool, and I particularly enjoy sword fights with lightly armored combatants engaging with rapiers, instead of, say, broadswords and shields. Unfortunately, it seems that rapiers, and swords similar to rapiers, don't get a whole lot of respect in fiction, but that's a post for another time.

I also enjoy fencing, ever since I saw an Olympic fencing exhibition as a child. I always try to watch fencing during the Olympics, even if it means watching a stream that's completely in French. During college, I even fenced a little, but I never took it seriously. It shouldn't be a surprise, therefore, that I wrote a character who fought in the style I enjoy, a lightly armored duelist armed with rapier and dagger. (Note: I try to avoid using the technical French and Italian terms for fencing practices.)

Fencing seems to be at least a common interest to genre writers; Brust in particular delights in fencing. His main character practices a style of swordplay similar to fencing, and is quick to explain why it's superior to the "hack and slash" styles favored by his taller, stronger opponents; one of the reasons is because his target area is smaller, because he uses a sideways stance (the same stances you use in fencing).

However, at the time of my writing I had suspicions that fencing had very little to do with the style of sword fighting common to the Renaissance masters of the approximate time period of my writing. Fencing is, after all, a sport, not a way to kill your enemies or defend yourself (thank God for that). So after a little bit of work, I tracked down Salvatore Fabris's treatise on sword fighting, translated into English. Reading that book was quite illuminating (and dangerous: the book had a propensity to deliver very nasty paper cuts! First blood to you, Fabris!)

To put it simply, everyone writes sword fights wrong. Or at least everyone I've read. Their characters stand like fencers, move like fencers, and fight like fencers. Or, perhaps, I should clarify their style as sport fencing, in opposition to the style I researched, historical fencing. They may have done research into the sport, but not the way people fought back then, or how the masters taught.

One of the basic tenets of Fabris's teaching was that the attacker had the advantage, so it was important, even when blocking, to take offensive action. When you parried your opponent's attack, you maneuvered your blade so that by stepping into the attack, his blade passed to the side of you while yours punctured him.

You don't make those kinds of moves in sport fencing, at least if you've only ever done foil fencing (such as myself). In sport fencing, the rules require you to execute a parry, stop the attack, then execute your own counterattack, otherwise it's an illegal move.

Typically, the more skilled swordsman in fiction is presented as such due to speed, typically the speed of their blades. From I remember of the books of my youth, R.A. Salvatore got one thing right, at least: footwork is incredibly important in fencing, probably moreso than arm movements (at least in sport fencing). The Conan archetype can get by with brute strength, but all of the other characters are fast, fast, fast.

To Fabris, it's more than about moving your sword really fast. It's about being smart, and using angles, leverage, and positioning to void your opponent's attacks while striking with your own. Wouldn't that be much more interesting to read about than someone just being faster, or whatever the hell else causes them to win the fight (some cheap trick, usually)?

Also, Fabris doesn't pretend that your opponent is going to engage you on some long, narrow strip of flat ground, and he doesn't use a side stance in his section on the four guards (or at least the Third Guard, the most generally useful one IMO).

Sadly, in the one story I wrote about this character, a master historical fencer who fought Sword and Dagger, there wasn't a single sword fight or duel. What a terrible waste, but it was quite educational. I'd love to see more books use actual historical styles and techniques, but alas.

By the way, congratulations to the USA women's epee team for winning the bronze. :)

Bonus Post: The Failure of Mass Effect 3

I've decided to write this post now, while it's still somewhat relevant, rather than waiting another week before it becomes completely pointless. If you've heard anything about the ending of Mass Effect 3...no, wait, if you've heard anything about Mass Effect 3 at all, you'll know that the ending sucks. Hard.

This post isn't about why the ending sucks though. I'm not going to talk about how freaking unsatisfying the ending is, about the sheer stupidity of building the space magic Crucible when you don't even know what it does. About the inaccuracy statement that organic vs. artificial life is the central conflict of the galaxy. In the end, I thin Bioware built their bad guys up way too much in their minds, and then had to come up with some incredibly stupid deus ex machine to handwave them away.

Under the scrutiny of logic, the Reapers aren't THAT powerful, of course, since their invasion strategy of Mass Effect 1 relies on dividing and conquering the space-faring civilizations of the galaxy. If they could just cruise in and beat everyone up without difficulty, they just would have done that, instead of relying on trickery. The most powerful and dangerous guys around? Sure. Unbeatable? No.

Anyway, I can be understanding about mistakes. Everyone makes them, including Bioware (even me!). What's important is acknowledging them, learning from them, and then moving on to become better than before. We get it, Bioware. You screwed up your ending, fine.

So when Bioware announced that they were coming out with a new ending for Mass Effect 3, available as DLC, fans rejoiced...until they actually saw the ending themselves. Nothing changed, except for Bioware logically addressing that destroying the method of practical FTL travel in their universe would both destroy the setting and result in the deaths of billions of people as the galactic supply chains collapse.

Well, you had the option of losing on purpose. That was the new content, except for a slideshow at the end of the game. It's essentially a giant middle finger to everyone who hated the original ending. What the hell, Bioware? You guys used to be great (Seriously, you used to have some great plotting with twists and everything. When was the last time a Bioware twist surprised anyone?).

One of the advantages of the digital market is how easy it is to fix your mistakes, to patch and improve. But Bioware, for a reason I can only ascribe to arrogance, doesn't listen to all of the fans who hated the ending and provide an ending that people actually like. This, to me, is the real mistake, the willful one.

Anyone who's ever studied product recalls is familiar with the Tylenol recall (seriously, textbooks, find a new case study). Could you imagine if Tylenol refused to recall it's product, insisting that it was working as intended and that the flaw was with the consumer? Granted, these are video games, not medicine, but the point remains, I think. 

Fight Club: The Fog of War

John Sandford, Pulitzer Prize winner and author of the "Prey" series, made a comment that amused me. The climax of Winter Prey, the fifth in the series, takes place during a Minnesota/Wisconsin blizzard. He received complaints that everything was confusing, and that it was hard to tell what exactly was going on. He responded that was the point! Maybe people who have only wintered in Texas or Florida don't know this, but during a blizzard, especially that far north, you can probably see about five or ten feet in front of you. Everything else is white, assuming the wind is kind enough to let you open your eyes to see anything at all.

But Sandford makes the interesting point that if a scene is supposed to be confusing to the characters, then maybe it should be confusing to the reader as well. And fights and battles, as mentioned last post, are chaotic and messy affairs. People's perceptions and memories are often murky at best after traumatic events, including combat. There's plenty of psych research about that.

So there's the question of whether or not you want to inflict confusion upon your readers, as well as your characters. From the advice I've read about writing action scenes, clear descriptions of what was going on was emphasized, which is a good rule for writing in general. But with clear (and perhaps long) descriptions of the action, do we lose out on the chaos of the action? Do we lose out on energy?

My first book, perhaps not my best written one, doesn't choose clarity. It chooses speed. In the action scenes, contrary to my usual style, I use short sentences and short words, chopping down my sentences into mere phrases. I had hoped that this made everything seem more exciting to the reader, but I'm not certain.

Of course, you could also argue that writing this way is the 'shaky cam' of the written word. And 'shaky cam' is terrible. Indisputably. In my experience, directors use the shaky cam when they can't do fight scenes otherwise. It ruins what might otherwise be cool fight scenes. And you can't even call it realistic, since it's artificially created chaos; unless you're suffering from repeated blows to your head, your vision is never as shaky as the awful camerawork of shaky cam.

So what I wonder is whether or not the compressed, hasty writing serves to make the action more exciting, whether or not it takes the reader into the action, or removes it (by making him ask what the hell is going on).

In my later books, I mostly abandoned that style of writing. My justification was that while the protagonist of my earlier books lived a basically comfortable middle class life, my later protagonists were a little more hardened and used to danger. And for the fantasy book I wrote, I often needed to explain how the magic worked; guns, fists, and swords require no explanation.

I'd be interested in hearing anyone else's thoughts on this.