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demented-dukey · 5 years

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Fic: Ineffable Twins

A RemRom Good Omens AU.

Author’s Note: Yes, “twins” is in the title, but no, Remus and Roman are not related in this AU, and I do not consider it incest. However, I don’t know how angels are born other than God creating them out of the ether, so technically I guess that makes them brothers? I’ll leave it up to the reader to decide.

💚 ❤️ 💚 ❤️ 💚

Roman watched the first human beings walk away from Eden, their forms growing smaller and less distinct but still recognizable against the bland background of the endless empty desert. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw tentacles wriggling their way over the edge of the wall, but he didn't bother turning to look.

"Well, that went down like a lead balloon."

Roman turned and looked - it would have been rude not to at this point - and saw that the creature had reformed. The tentacles were gone, and now to his left stood a demon, as dark as Roman was light. His wings were inky black, with streaks of dark green where the sun caught them. He was dressed in black robes that were already stained and tattered - a stark contrast to Roman's own pristine clothing. Roman’s fingertips itched to miracle away the damage, but the demon probably wouldn’t have appreciated the favor, and Heaven would probably be against wasting a holy miracle on a demon. "Sorry, what was that?" Roman asked, because even if he was talking to a demon, he still had manners, for heaven's sake.

The demon rolled his eyes, one hand on his hip as he radiated annoyance. "I said, 'Well, that went down like a lead balloon'," he enunciated.

Roman had never seen balloons, let alone one made out of lead, but he understood the gist, which meant that they were probably in God's plans to get around to making them at some point. "Yes, yes, it did, rather." Roman admitted.

"Bit of an overreaction, if you ask me," said the demon. Roman had decidedly not asked for the demon's opinion, but he wasn't going to say anything. Apparently, the demon took his silence for encouragement, and continued, "First offence and everything. I can't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway."

"Well, it must be bad-" Roman let the sentence hang, looking significantly at the demon.

The demon must have understood the glance, because he filled in the blank, "Remus."

"-Remus." Roman continued, committing the name to memory. "Otherwise you wouldn't have tempted them into it."

Remus shrugged, letting the accusation flow off him like water off a duck's back (which, coincidentally, Roman had seen! He'd been feeding the ducks earlier when one had dipped below the surface of the pond and rose back up. It was very enjoyable watching the water cascade off the feathers and had made Roman wonder if he could recreate the effect with his own wings, and what the sensation would feel like). "Oh, they just said, 'Get up there and make some trouble'."

"Well, obviously," Roman scoffed, "you're a demon." In case that wasn't obvious enough, Roman continued, "It's what you do." Remus frowned, but he didn’t look repentant. Roman wondered if demons should feel repentant for their evil actions, or if they were simply doing what God had intended them to do. Grimacing a little, Roman carefully reeled back his thoughts - Angels did not question God's plans. That way led to falling from grace, an experience Roman decidedly did not want to feel the sensation of.

"Not very subtle of the Almighty, though." Remus commented idly. "Fruit tree in the middle of a garden with a "Don't Touch" sign." Roman thought offhandedly that Remus had a point, and was immediately horrified with himself. This was why the other angels warned against fraternizing with demons - their wily ways would get inside your head and corrupt your thoughts. "I mean, why not put it on the top of a high mountain? Or on the moon? Makes you wonder what God's really planning."

A tiny voice in Roman's head agreed with the demon's words. Roman promptly grabbed that voice, shoved it in a mental box, padlocked the box, covered it in cement, and dropped it down the deepest mental abyss he could find. "Best not to speculate." Roman finally said, when it was obvious Remus was waiting to hear his opinion. "It's all part of the Great Plan. It's not for us to understand." Remus didn't look convinced, so Roman tried one more time, "It's ineffable."

"The Great Plan's ineffable?" Remus exclaimed. Oh lord, now he looked less convinced than ever.

"Exactly." Roman said, interjecting all of his confidence into his words. "It is beyond understanding and incapable of being put into words."

Remus eyed Roman for a moment, and Roman did his best to exude assurity and righteousness. Then the demon's brow wrinkled, and Roman felt the sinking sensation that he'd missed something vital.

"Didn't you have a flaming sword?" Damn. Double damn. Who the heck was this demon? Roman felt torn between being ashamed that he had been caught, and feeling flattered that the demon had been watching him enough to notice his sword. "You did. It was flaming like anything. What happened to it?"

Roman looked down, and scuffed one sandal against the edge of the Wall. He still felt like he'd made the right decision, but he wasn't sure. God hadn't created instruction manuals yet, so Roman was in a constant state of lowkey anxiety that any decisions he made would be Wrong.

"Lost it already, have you?"

Hoping the demon would drop the matter, Roman muttered, "Gave it away."

"You what?" Remus sounded shocked. Incredulous. The bad feeling inside Roman got worse - how bad of a decision was it, if a demon couldn't even fathom his actions?

"I gave it away!" Roman exclaimed. He winced at the volume, but he had to explain, to justify his decision. "There are vicious animals! It's going to be cold out there. And she's expecting already!" He couldn't stop the words from coming out. The damn had broken. He'd been going over and over and over his choice in his mind, and now that he had a willing ear, all of his reasoning and debating was pouring out. "And I said, 'Here you go. Flaming sword. Don't thank me. And don't let the sun go down on you here'." Roman began to chew on his thumbnail, worrying. His hand already felt empty without the sword in it. "I do hope I didn't do the wrong thing."

Remus shrugged, turning back to watch the humans as they walked further away, one of the lions hot on their trail. “Oh, you're an angel. I don't think you can do the wrong thing.”

A well of gratitude sprung inside Roman, and he sighed, “Oh, oh, thank-Oh, thank you.” He almost hugged the demon right then and there, but he held himself back. “It's been bothering me.” Roman admitted, quietly.

In the distance, the human (who Remus could now see was holding the flaming sword) had turned back around to confront the lion. There was a roar.

“I've been worrying, too.” Remus said, and now it was Roman’s turn to feel shocked. What on earth was there for a Demon to worry about? The confusion must have been obvious on his face, because Remus elaborated, “What if I did the right thing with the whole 'eat the apple' business? A demon can get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing.”

Another roar, and a meaty thunk. They were too far away, but Roman could still imagine that he could smell singed fur, and his nose wrinkled.

“It'd be funny if we both got it wrong, eh?” Remus chuckled darkly, and elbowed Roman in the side. “If I did the good thing and you did the bad one.”

Roman was laughing before he could stop himself, a grin stretching on his face to match Remus’s. They both shared the amusement for several moments before Roman stopped suddenly, his horrified mind working through the implications of doing a bad thing and what this would mean for himself and for the new world God was creating. “No! It wouldn't be funny at all.” Roman said. The consequences and potential repercussions were too awful to contemplate.

Remus shrugged, and went back to watching the tiny humans. The silence stretched out as they stood together, and when the first rain began to fall, it felt only natural for Roman to shelter the demon beneath his wing. After all, now that Eden’s walls no longer needed to be guarded, he was probably going to be reassigned soon. He might never see the demon again, so what was one small kindness in the grand scheme of things?

#remrom #romrem #dd fanfic #fanfic #AUs #au - good omens au #remus sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides #ts remus #ts duke #ts roman #thomas sanders #wingfic

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thebrokenscript · 6 years

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alright finally a writing wednesday this week’s theme was foresight and while non-force sensitive beings can’t predict the future who needs to listen to rules have some rex @finish-the-clone-wars

this was also beta read by the lovely @lesbian-asajj bless her she saved my life

There.

He went very still, everything around him disappearing as he focused solely on her. He gestured for his men to approach silently. They moved as one to where she stood.

Both of her lightsabers burned unnaturally bright. Like a poisonous creature, he noted distantly, warning a horrible fate for predators who dared attack.

But there was no danger.

Not for him.

She wouldn’t hurt him.

She trusted him.

He stopped behind her, leveling his pistol with the back of her head, sensing more than hearing the blasters behind him all focusing on her.

She turned.

Disbelief, fear, and betrayal all flashed across her face.

He pulled the trigger and the world exploded into chaos.

“REX!”

Rex shot awake, Ahsoka’s scream echoing in his ears, blasterfire shredding his thoughts. Lunging for his pistols, he spun, searching for the danger. Nothing. The room was still as a tomb. The nightmare was already falling apart. He couldn’t remember anything but pulling the trigger.

Had he killed her?

Again?

A bitter taste filled his mouth. Just yesterday it had been Anakin. And before that- well. He’d killed them countless times. He’d killed many faceless Jedi. He’d killed his Jedi even more.

He stood, slamming his pistol back onto the stand with more force than he had meant to. His nerves jangled, putting him on edge even though there was no danger. No sleep then, despite the exhaustion dragging at him. He’d just work. There were reports to do. Check-ins. Take stock of supplies.

Anything to distract himself from the cold emptiness that had replaced his heart.

Grabbing the datapad from where it lay on the table, he paced back and forth across the room as he flipped mindlessly through report after report.

A successful win over on Ryloth, Onderon was making great strides with their public militia, there was a reminder from Anakin that they were shipping out to the Outer Rim in two standard days, a message from Echo-

Rex’s heart sped up. Echo. He immediately opened it and set to work deciphering their code.

Something is wrong with the clone army. Someone else has control of the project. I’ve been able to narrow it down to some groups and people, but I don’t have a definite answer. They worked very hard to cover their tracks.

Rex read the message once, then twice, and then a third time just to be sure. Setting the datapad down roughly, he sat down on his bed and pressed his hands into his eyes as if that might alleviate some of the pressure.

The Chancellor was still first on his list of suspects. Ever since Fives’s death Rex had had his suspicions about the Chancellor despite Anakin’s incensed protests against it. The problem was there was no proof. All the evidence Rex had against the Chancellor was circumstantial and the most direct connection he had was Fives’s testimony. Nobody would believe him. Fives had fallen as far as a clone could. He’d been a well respected trooper, but attempting to assassinate the Chancellor had destroyed his reputation. His words were useless.

The rest of his argument rested on how much power the Chancellor had gained over the course of the war and how much he had benefited from it. But that protest was flimsy. He’d done his research. Most of the Chancellor’s powers had been proposed and granted to him by the Senate. According to everything Rex had found, the Chancellor had reluctantly and “with a heavy heart” taken on the responsibilities.

Rex rubbed his head subconsciously just over the spot Fives had claimed the chip was. Could the Chancellor really have orchestrated such an elaborate scheme with the sole end goal of wiping out the Jedi? Even he could see how ludicrous an idea it was. Nobody could have executed such a large scale plan with such perfection.

But even as he tried to reject that idea, memories began to creep up on him. Things the Chancellor had said to him when Anakin had placed him under his protection after Obi-wan’s ‘death’. Whispers from the clones who were around him the most often of stories that didn’t quite line up. How the Chancellor had stared him down during Ahsoka’s trial.

Ice crept through Rex’s veins. He knew something was wrong here. Even if it wasn’t the Chancellor, it had to be someone close to him. But what could he do? The reality was nobody would believe him. He was just a clone. They’d assume the war was finally taking its toll on him. The past few months hadn’t exactly been easy: Umbara and Ahsoka leaving and Fives dying. Anakin was moodier than ever and everyone was exhausted.

It seemed the war was finally taking its toll on them.

Rex groaned in frustration. He couldn’t just going to sit back and watch the Republic fall. He wasn’t going to let anyone live under the evil that might follow. Especially an evil potentially headed by the Chancellor.

Rex’s eyes burned with exhaustion. Sighing, he reached over and grabbed the datapad. He’d at least reply to Echo before he tried sleeping again.

Look into their finances. We need to see if they were threatened to give their technology away or if they were just paid off.

That should narrow it down. Sighing, Rex let his eyes drift shut.

Anakin stood beside him. He was saying something, but Rex couldn’t hear it. Something was screaming inside his head, saying something but he couldn’t make out the words.

Obi-wan approached. He was speaking too but Rex couldn’t hear him either. Some deeply buried rage rumbled in his chest and choked the air from his lungs.

Jedi.

He exploded into motion, slamming his elbow into Anakin’s chest. The Jedi doubled over and Rex’s pistol was pressing against his head.

Screams and blasterfire filled the air. The world flashed blindingly as Rex pulled the trigger again and again and-

Rex shot awake, flinching as the datapad slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor with a deafening crash. Heart racing and breaths coming in harsh pants, he staggered to his feet. No more sleep tonight. No more nightmares of slaughtering his Jedi.

Shivering violently, he threw his armor on over his blacks and left his room, stepping out into the harsh lighting of the ship’s corridor. He staggered down the hallway, not knowing where he was going or what he would do when he got there.

Fives had said the nightmares were over. Every clone knew about the nightmares. All of them had them. They were universally dismissed as a symptom of war. When one dealt in killing and death, it was only natural to fear turning on your allies. Right?

But that couldn’t be all of it. No there had to be more to it than that. Fives had spoken of a “mission”. What mission was he talking about?

Rex’s thoughts were spinning faster than he could process them.

The formation of the clone army was murky at best. Syfo-Dias had gone behind the Council’s back and commissioned it and then somehow command over it had been wrested from him and given to some unknown party. If his suspicions of the Chancellor were correct, then the clone army was the tipping point. And if Fives was right about the chips-

There was only one way to find out.

Rex stopped short, then turned and began pacing again.

The Kaminoan explanation for the chip was that it mitigated Jango’s natural aggression. Fives hadn’t seemed aggressive, though his case was far from perfect. He had been acting like he’d been drugged. Anybody could see that. Despite Rex’s pleas for an investigation, nothing had come of it and Fives’ body had been destroyed.

A frown deepened on Rex’s face. He knew what the answer was. The tiny thought had come to him before, but he’d always pushed it away.

Maybe it was time to start listening.

Maybe it was time to take his own chip out.

The thought of doing so made his heart pound. It wouldn’t necessarily be treason to do so, though he’d be going against everything he’d been told by the Council and Senate.

And if he was wrong? If the chip really was to stop them from losing it? His thoughts veered to the nightmares.

He stopped short, the frown deepening. Clones didn’t get premonitions of the future. He was no Jedi. His nightmares- all of their nightmares- couldn’t possibly be predicting the future.

But they all had the chip. They all had the nightmares. Was it possible then that they were connected?

He could sense the cliff he was standing on. The question was whether or not he would take the jump. If he did and he was wrong the consequences could be catastrophic. He could kill so many. But if he was right? He could stop a massive deception. He could save millions.

He hesitated. There was a right answer. He couldn’t stand by and let the galaxy fall to darkness. Lifting his head and gritting his teeth, he marched back to his room.

He just needed to find somebody to shoot him if he was wrong.

#swtcw #writing wednesday #just slowly building my own canon here don't mind me #gotta fix what they didn't do somehow #hope you guys enjoyed it!#my writing

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preserving-ferretbrain · 5 years

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Nights of Villjamblah

by Wardog

Friday, 24 June 2011

Wardog tries and fails to like Nights of Villjamur.~

I really should have liked Nights of Villjamur more than I did. And that's the sort of line that sets one up for a damning review but I honestly feel quite bad about it. It's full of the sort of things I generally appreciate but for some reason it left me frustrated that it wasn't, with all this promise and potential, somehow better. Without attempting to make uncontrolled, unsupported declarations about a genre as complicated and evolving as fantasy, I'd put Mark Charan Newton on the same team as writers like Abercrombie and Abraham, although if you're into literary genealogy you can certainly trace the influence of Vance and Mieville in there too. But what I'm trying to get at here is that we're talking punchy, modern fantasy; brutal, cynical, self-consciously anti-Tolkeinesque and hopefully weighing in at five hundred pages or less. The problem is, however, that as much as I enjoy this uppity, edgy, fantasy, there's already an extent to which it's becoming stale. Maybe if I'd read Nights of Villjamur two years ago, my tiny mind would have been appropriately blown, but I came away with the distinct impression it was like Abercrombie without the style and Abraham without the sophistication. On the other hand, it is a début novel and it is not by any means totally awful so I'd certainly be at least mildly interested in seeing how Newton develops.

The Jamur Empire is yer typical rich, sprawling, corrupt fantasy Empire, except there's an ice-age coming, and the Emperor has just killed himself in a fit of crazed paranoia. Cue: political shenanigans, and some other stuff. The reason I'm having a hard job summarising the plot effectively is that it's one of those multi-stranded jobbies, but the threads only come together right at the end, if at all, which makes the experience of reading Nights of Villjamur rather disjointed. Some of the involved parties are: Commander Brynd Lathraea, doing soldiery things, Inquisitor Jeryd investigating the murder of a city councillor, and Randur Estevu who hails from some kind of island race of martial artists / sex workers / dancers and has been brought to Villjamur to teach the Emperor's daughter how to dance.

I liked, in abstract terms, nearly all of these characters but their plots arcs were so wildly different in tone and style that, rather than illuminating different aspects of life in Villjamur as I suspect must have been the intention, they interfered with each other. Jeryd, for example, acts like he's in The Maltese Falcon - he's old and weary and tormented by the failures of his personal life. He's also a weird cat-person-creature but let's not go there. I had no idea what was going on with the rumel, and the last time I encountered a cat-based race it was in Green, so I'm still scarred. But his consistent failure to solve the crime, when even I was sitting there able to solve the crime, was infuriating and the the whole “one honest man versus political corruption” theme does not, in this case, co-exist comfortably in a world where you also have Brynd dealing with the brutal slaughter of entire populations. I know the counter-argument to this is “ah, but that's the point” but if it isthe point Newton does not carry it off particularly successfully, especially when Randur's swashbuckling antics are entirely at variance with both. Newton goes to great pains to create a society on the verge of ruin, a city rife with decadence and cruelty, and a world overrun with monsters and yet Randur is able to semi-thwart a massive political uprising, and stage a daring rescue, with a jolly group of peasants, who, despite living in deprivation and povert, are suddenly willing to fight to the death in defence of their oppressors. I don't, per se, have a problem with the more cartoon elements of fantasy but you can't serve up Chandler, Owen and Disney simultaneously.

It doesn't help that the supporting cast is extensive and depressingly one-dimensional. You have a Tuya, the jaded prostitute, Tryst, Jeryd's ambitious Iago-like aid who does, in fact, spend two thirds of the book engaged in acts of motiveless malignancy, Marysa, Jeryd's tediously virtuous and personality devoid wife, Eir the feisty Emperor's daughter who has her eyes opened to the true poverty of her kingdom, the fence with a heart of gold, the scheming councillor, the mad cultist, and so on and so forth. The three main characters are marginally better drawn but they lacked any true psychological depth or complexity.

Jeryd, for example, is manipulated by Tryst into believing his wife has cheated on him. Heading home in a partially drug-fuelled rage, he strikes her. Conveniently she wakes up somewhat confused and Jeryd lets her believe it was a dream. Neither the dimensions or the consequences of this are ever properly explored, nor are we really given opportunity to ponder how much responsibility (if any) Jeryd bears for either the action itself, or lying about it afterwards. Brynd's big secret is that he's gay, in a society where homosexuality is punishable by death, due to a line in one of the scriptures. I actually quite liked Brynd, but being tormented and alienated is still not really a substitute for having a personality. The presentation of his homosexuality wavers between the quite good and the horrendously heavy handed. Something that does come across well is the fact that it would be incidental to his character if not for the world in which he lives. And the chapter in which he meets up with his lover, Kym, struck me as reasonably successful, as the encounter is recounted with neither sentimentality nor sensationalism. But it's the only moment of subtlety in the entire text, and the rest of the time we're treated to reflections like this:

“Where's the big freak?” Apium said, before yawning and stretching with the grace of a tramp, astride his black horse. “I take it you mean Jurro?” Brynd said, after considering for a moment that he himself was the freak, or maybe Kym – men who loved other men, and who'd be killed if discovered. He could never shake off the paranoia.

I understand that this would be something on his mind a lot, but it's the clumsy exposition that really sinks it for me. This exchange takes place on page 331 of my edition – if I haven't got that Brynd is gay, and that being gay is punishable by death, by this point in the book, I don't think there's much more an author can be expected to do for me. Much of the interior life of the major characters is narrated to us in this flat, expository way. I don't want to fall back on trite maxims about writing but I would have liked to see character traits illuminated or demonstrated more through thoughts, interaction and behaviour, rather than simply being told about them.

Randur, for example, comes to the city through a slightly spurious set of circumstances in order to raise enough money for a cultist to bring his mother back from the dead. In order to get the cash, he has his job at the palace, teaching Eir to dance, but he also sleeps with rich, older women and steals their jewellery. He does explain, at one point, that he feels like he owes his mother a debt for all she has sacrificed for him but it never really feels convincing. After all, sense of filial obligation is one thing. Necromancy another. Needless to say, over the course of the book, he and Eir fall for each other and it turns out that resurrecting his mother isn't going to be possible, even with the money in hand. Here is the description of Randur's response:

His world imploded. Lying on Eir's bed later, he felt he wanted to vomit, but instead he cried like a ten-year-old as he told her everything. She sat next to him and waited for him to finish – he knew that, and he felt ashamed, to expose his emotions like this. But, despite her age, she possessed an unexpected, motherly quality. He liked that. After that, he got up and left, walked for two hours across the city bridges, then returned, damp and cold. Then he resumed crying. Eir held his hand. “It's understandable you're upset, Rand, so don't be so harsh on yourself.” She got up and lit lanterns and soothing incense and waited for him to compose himself. He realised he was comfortable being vulnerable in front of her. Soon he began to feel better, until somehow his failings as a son didn't seem to matter quite as much.

Given that this is a significant moment in Randur's personal development, and his relationship with Eir, I felt it was rather over-narrated but I read the ease which he apparently gets over it as evidence that his original goal was immature, and not something we were really expected to take seriously. However, a chapter later we're being narrated at again:

Eir had even given him some jewellery: a plain silver chain to go around his neck, two rings for his fingers. She had supported him so much that he felt he owed her is very soul if only he could give it. Eir's biggest gift to him wasn't monetary but psychological. Perhaps all he'd ever needed was to actually love someone else.

Once more, I can't quite unpack the tone of this. It sounds so ludicrously trite that I was half-tempted to read it as being in some way ironic. And I'm, incidentally, not thrilled with Eir's sudden detour into maternal saviour, although I can't tell whether that's meant to be Randur's distorted perspective, since Eir only has about three personality traits and none of them, thus far, have been even remotely maternal. But ultimately it's just another example of the way that heavy-handed attempts to explain the psychological development of the characters ruins their portrayal.

The other thing you can see from these quoted paragraphs, is the occasional banality of the writing, and its general clumsiness. For example, we have three awkwardly repeated 'thats' far too close to each other in “he knew that, and he felt ashamed, to expose his emotions like this. But, despite her age, she possessed an unexpected, motherly quality. He liked that. After that...” The book is riddled with such unnecessary annoyances, and the style itself is as inconsistent as everything else. Dialogue is generally naturalistic, with a fair few fucks thrown in for good measure, the prose style is plain and expository to the point of tedium, but occasionally Newton struggles towards a Mieville-like excess, which often just falls flat:

A truculunt pain shot through him and he screamed … he stumbled forwards, his hands clutching for wet stones, then began to spit blood on the ground … Sensing his life fluid filling the cracks between the cobbles, the blood beetles came and began to smother him, till his screams could be heard amplified between the high walls of the courtyard. One even scurried into his mouth, scraping eagerly as his gums and tongue. He bit down so he wouldn't choke, split its shell in two, and spat it out, but he could still taste its ichors. Councillor Ghuda was violently febrile.

I honestly have no idea what that means. I understand the individual words but the connection between them, and the the being eaten alive by bugs, not so much. A major component of Newton's Mieville Aspirations is the city of Villjamur itself, which I'm sure is meant to exist as vividly in the narrative as New Crobuzon in Perdido Street Station. I'm honestly not a huge fan of Perdido Street Station and I found the descriptions of the city a little overweening but I will admit that they got the job done. By contrast, Villjamur never became real to me and, if anything, Newton is trying so hard to have it make an impression on the reader that the overall affect is one of artificiality. Devices over conviction. For example, there's a self-conscious weirdness to Villjamur - it has blood beetles and banshees, and garuda – but these just feel like a checklist. And scenes or chapters tend to end with the narrative moving away from the thoughts and actions of the characters to more general statements about the mood of the Villjamur. The contrast, I suspect, is meant to create a sense of distance between the struggles of individuals and the vast intricacies of the city itself:

After that the three of them watched the falling snow in companionable silence. Street fires and lantern lights glared defiantly for another bell, but one by one they fell into shadow. Voices in the streets beyond quietened and soon there was only the sound of the wind probing the city's countless alleyways.

However, the more Newton falls back on this technique, the more transparent it becomes, and the more I resisted his attempts to “sell” me Villjamur. As the book progresses, he takes to refering to the city as if it should now be familiar to us (“Another one of those melancholy nights of Villjamur, in which a pterodette called out across the city's spires so loudly it sounded like a banshee”) but by that stage I was already convinced that Newton had failed to force me into a relationship with the city, and therefore this assumption of familiarity annoyed me and further alienated me from the Villjamur Newton was so desperately trying to evoke.

The thing is, barrage of negativity aside, it's not as bad as all that. I did, after all, read the thing and I was mildly engaged by the plot and some of the characters, even in spite of the heavy-handed narration and my increasingly irritation with having Villjamur forced down my throat. As a personal, rather than general, criticism I realised at about the halfway point that there wasn't a single interesting woman in the entire book. Obviously having diverse and well-rounded female characters isn't a moral necessity and it's perfectly reasonable for any writer to simply not be interested but for me to really enjoy a text I'd probably prefer it wasn't a massive sausage party. The Emperor's eldest daughter seems intriguing but she isn't in it enough for me to be able to judge. Eir is feisty-by-numbers and, consequently, irritating. Tuya starts off promising and then gets drugged and abused by Tryst, in his pursuit of revenge over Jeryd, so she essentially becomes a cipher. Jeryd's wife is so lightly sketched she's barely a character at all. To be fair to Newton, the men aren't that interesting either but they at least get more page time. However, the one thing I did like was what I perceived to be a fairly healthy attitude to sex, both heterosexual and homosexual. There are a few non-explicit but nicely down-to-earth sex scenes. But, like anything else in Villjamur, sex is largely another commodity – and the men trade it as much as the women do. I liked the fact that women, incidental though they are to the text in general, were as active in pursuit of sex as men, just as acquisitive of pretty young things, and seemed to derive as much pleasure from it.

This being so, and because we haven't had one for a while, I present: Fantasy Rape Watch for Nights of Villjamur.

Number of non-straight men: 2

Number of non-straight men killed: 0

Number of non-straight women: 0

Number of men who sell themselves: 3 maybe*

Number of men who sell themselves who are killed: 0

Number of men who sell themselves who find twu wuv: 2

Number of men who sell themselves where the woman obligingly makes herself look hot for them: 1

Number of women who sell themselves: 1

Number of women who sell themselves who are killed: 1

Number of women who sell themselves who find twu wuv: 0

Number of women who sell themselves who manage to survive a bomb: 0

Number of virtuous, married women who manage to survive the same bomb: 1

*I am including in this category, Randur who sleeps with rich old women in order to pay for necromantic magic, Tryst who sleeps with an old cultist in order to acquire something he needs, and Kym who it seems to be suggesting gets around a bit.

Obviously, I'm being slightly unfair on Newton here. I wasn't actually all that bothered by the fact that Randur manwhores his way around Villjamur and this is sort of portrayed as being vaguely cool, whereas Tuya is stuck in a cycle of loneliness and bitterness. I saw this as being largely down to the fact they are very different people, and Randur is young whereas Tuya is forty. However, I was a bit annoyed by the fact Tuya, who had all the markings of being quite interesting (shock!), was treated the way she was by the narrative - victimised, sidelined and then conveniently killed.

In conclusion I would say that although I have really hammered into Nights of Villjamur, it's not actually as bad as all that. I found it quite frustrating to read but I didn't actively hate it: I liked Brynd, and Newton seems to have quite a good grip on his gender politics. It certainly has some promise and I can only hope that this goes some way to being fulfilled in the later books.Themes:

Fantasy Rape Watch

Books

Sci-fi / Fantasy

Emocakes

bookmark this with - facebook - delicious - digg - stumbleupon - reddit

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valse de la lune

at 16:05 on 2011-06-24I remember really wanting to read this at one time, then a friend told me it was meh and I wrote it off. To this day I'm still vaguely curious but the fear of terribad racial/cultural appropriation compels me to keep my distance. Alas.

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Wardog

at 16:23 on 2011-06-24Well, as I said in my usual lukewarm fashion I quite liked Brynd... but my dominating response was "meh" over "ick." The novel is so bland that it's quite hard to get really wound up about it. I felt that the social issues, related to the coming ice-age (climate change, ho ho), Brynd's homosexuality and ye typical fantasy racism were pretty shallow, and consequently there wasn't really anything to get a grip on, either to praise or to criticise. I did think the islanders of Folke - they do dancing, swordplay and sex apparently - were a bit dodgy though, but to be honest I dismissed it as typical of the genre. I can see how there would be plenty to bother you though. I guess I was too busy fighting the bored to pay sufficient attention. Oh, and of course, you get the prejudice towards non-human races ... but, come on, cat-people are not a stand-in for people of colour.

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Vermisvere

at 16:48 on 2011-06-24Hmm...this doesn't sound like something I'd be keen to enter into my usual compulsory reading list, although it might be something I could probably sit through some cold winter night when I'm bored out of my mind.

And the way you describe it, Villjamur seems to strike me as being a bit like a fantasy version of Gotham City, minus all the crazy supervillains and Batman running around.

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Wardog

at 17:03 on 2011-06-24It is incredibly well-regarded so it's possible I've just experienced a profound failure of taste.

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Arthur B

at 17:10 on 2011-06-24

I don't, per se, have a problem with the more cartoon elements of fantasy but you can't serve up Chandler, Owen and Disney simultaneously.

This sounds like exactly one of the problems I had with

Steve Cockayne's debut novel

- it tried to fuse the conventions of so many different takes on fantastic material that it ended up tripping over itself. Ah well.

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http://everythingisnice.wordpress.com/

at 17:34 on 2011-06-24Not much point whiting out that spoiler about Tuya when you've got the Fantasy Rape Watch right above it!

I reviewed the book for Strange Horizons and came to a similar view to you. This was against the prevailing view at the time but I wonder if that has changed a bit. I've certainly seen lots of people suggesting Newton has improved as a writer as the series has progressed and have perhaps recalibrated their view of

Villjamur

(which is, after all, a debut novel). I've not read any of his other novels but I will definitely try him again at some point.

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Wardog

at 17:50 on 2011-06-24

Not much point whiting out that spoiler about Tuya when you've got the Fantasy Rape Watch right above it!

That is a good point - I fail at spoilers. But I guess you'd have to be paying attention to notice, or already familiar with the book.

I feel quite bad about not liking this more but since I remember a flurry of "zomg!awesome" at the time it came out I was genuinely a bit shocked. I am quite curious about his other books though, even in spite of my lack of enthusiasm for this one.

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Cammalot

at 22:05 on 2011-06-24Oddly enough, I'd just read through the entire thread on this book on Westeros.org last night. I came away feeling very intrigued by the premise(s) but with very mixed feelings about the (potential) prose.

But basically with so many things that have been really hyped in the last few years, elements have come out that have made me not only want to avoid the books like the plague, but wonder if I'm the crazy one, that everyone else in the world is not having a problem with this. (Emiko from "Windup Girl" springs to mind.)

I think I'll still try this one when it comes either to Nook or to trade paper, though.

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Michal

at 03:09 on 2011-06-25

but wonder if I'm the crazy one, that everyone else in the world is not having a problem with this. (Emiko from "Windup Girl" springs to mind.)

Well, count me as one other person who wasn't so crazy on The Windup Girl (and 'specially not Emiko). I didn't even finish it.

Also, I'm starting to notice our tastes are weirdly similar. Are you sure you're not my doppelganger?

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Cammalot

at 06:31 on 2011-06-25I can neither confirm nor deny. :shifty eyes:

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Wardog

at 14:43 on 2011-06-25

Oddly enough, I'd just read through the entire thread on this book on Westeros.org last night. I came away feeling very intrigued by the premise(s) but with very mixed feelings about the (potential) prose.

I'm, err, not not recommending it. I didn't like it much, but it certainly has potential and perhaps the series as a whole is better.

Also I am shocked, shocked I tell you, to learn that Michal is Cammalot's sock puppet... :)

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Vermisvere

at 15:40 on 2011-06-25

Also I am shocked, shocked I tell you, to learn that Michal is Cammalot's sock puppet... :)

*Gasp*

IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW!

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Cammalot

at 16:48 on 2011-06-25So I can take credit for Michal's coherence! I am willng to go along with this.

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valse de la lune

at 21:27 on 2011-06-25SPOILER: everyone on FB is a sockpuppet of everyone else.

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Arthur B

at 21:46 on 2011-06-25And Charles Dickens hypnotised all of you into believing in everyone else.

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Vermisvere

at 05:11 on 2011-06-26

And Charles Dickens hypnotised all of you into believing in everyone else.

But wait...if I was hypnotised, then nobody exists...but if I was hypnotised, the one who hypnotised me must exist...but wait, if he exists, then my first statement must not be true...but, but...hey, wait a minute, ain't Dickens dead anyway?

Arghh! *goes into Rene Descartes overdrive-mode*

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Arthur B

at 09:05 on 2011-06-26It's all a game in Wilkie Collins' head.

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Alasdair Czyrnyj

at 20:35 on 2011-06-26

SPOILER: everyone on FB is a sockpuppet of everyone else.

Well, everyone except for me. I'm actually an artificial intelligence who covertly created Ferretbrain as part of a method for controlling mass society. So congratulations, everybody! You have no free will!

(BTW, secretly running America is nowhere near as much fun as it looks. I still wonder how the hell GW talked me into it.)

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Ash

at 20:55 on 2011-06-26

I'm actually an artificial intelligence

Wait, I thought that was me.

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Shim

at 23:46 on 2011-06-26I'm not a sockpuppet, I'm a bot-mediated copy-paste from a less well-known site.

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Arthur B

at 00:38 on 2011-06-27I'm a worm from LulzSec. That time the other week the site was down for hours? Yeah, that was me.

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Vermisvere

at 10:17 on 2011-06-27

So congratulations, everybody! You have no free will!

Free will? That's SO last century...

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Robinson L

at 20:30 on 2011-06-28

Alasdair: I'm actually an artificial intelligence who covertly created Ferretbrain as part of a method for controlling mass society. So congratulations, everybody! You have no free will! (BTW, secretly running America is nowhere near as much fun as it looks. I still wonder how the hell GW talked me into it.)

As I recall it was two batches of homemade cookies, a case of premium vodka, and a three-year subscription to the Reader's Digest. I always did wonder about the subscription part.

... Damn, there goes my cover.

“It's understandable you're upset, Rand, so don't be so harsh on yourself.”

Oh, that's some scintillating dialogue right there.

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Wardog

at 20:45 on 2011-06-28

Oh, that's some scintillating dialogue right there.

I know :( Not precisely sparkling in Villjamur, is it?

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Shim

at 21:14 on 2011-06-28

“It's understandable you're upset, Rand, so don't be so harsh on yourself.”

I just read that along with the

Playpen Freud-Jung film discussion

and absent-mindedly read it as Ayn Rand in some bizarre They Fight Crime scheme.

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Arthur B

at 22:02 on 2011-06-28That'd be a good teamup.

All Freud linking Rand's admiration of architects to phallic symbols implicit in skyscrapers.

All Rand trying to convince Freud that charity and compassion are illnesses that cry out for treatment more than schizophrenia or neurosis.

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Robinson L

at 00:36 on 2011-06-29Cast Liv Tyler as Ayn Rand and you can have Mortensen's Freud desperately attempting to convince Jung that there is not unresolved sexual tension between them whatsoever.

Jung: Sigmund old boy, you just said you wanted to get into Ayn's pants.

Freud: I mean

plans

- get in on her

plans

Jung: But you said

pants

Freud: Sometimes a slip of the tongue is

just

a slip of the tongue!

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Wardog

at 09:42 on 2011-06-29Hahaha!

Robinson is on fire today.

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Robinson L

at 15:30 on 2011-07-01

Kyra: Robinson is on fire today.

Yes, it was touch-and-go for a while there, but they managed to dowse me and get me to a treatment center and the med droids tell me I won't have to spend the rest of my life in a mechanical suit.

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Robinson L

at 15:30 on 2012-02-24

Mark C Newton: "Things I got wrong."

Re-posting from the Playpen (credit Cammalot for the original discovery) because the Playpen is such a transitory space and because this specific post and this sort of authorial self-reflection need a lot more love.

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Wardog

at 15:46 on 2012-02-24Well...I'm happy he's noticed he was crap but ... I don't really feel like blowing him for it ;)

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Robinson L

at 20:30 on 2012-02-24

Kyra: Well...I'm happy he's noticed he was crap but ... I don't really feel like blowing him for it ;)

No reason you should. And yes, this sort of thing should probably be the baseline for authorial self-reflection, but since so many authors fail to reach such basic levels of insight, it's important to point out when they get even this much right. I also like the way he articulates the point that "gritty" doesn't automatically = "mature," and I'm a bit taken with his tone throughout the piece, but that's a personal thing.

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Cammalot

at 22:19 on 2012-02-24Heh -- I'm not even too inclined to *read* him for it, but I've been seeing so much bad authorial behavior in my lurkings lately I felt compelled to point it out. It made me a happy.

I'm still not planning to pick up this one, but with Strange Horizons blurbing his second one as "What Villjamur wished it could be," I wouldn't toss it away if it wound up in my hands, so to speak. The premise is still intriguing, and it would be interesting to see what he's done with this insight.

(I've been hearing it in my head as "Vjillamur" all this time. This is the first I'm noticing how wrong I am!)

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Wardog

at 23:42 on 2012-02-24Hee! Authors Behaving Badly! I am kind of imagining cheap documentary film-making with GRRM and Pat Rothfuss and Joe Abercrombie all wearing skimpy outfits in hot-tubs and making out with each other for the camera... Actually that's basically what they do anyway, isn't it? Except on the Internet.

(also that image hurts my brain)

That's the thing, I think I probably quite like MCN. Like Daniel Abraham (I love you Daniel Abraham, you do not need to put on the bunny tail and go in the hot tub) most of the things I've seen him writing that aren't, y'know, fiction I've quite liked. He seems kind of down-to-earth, not *ragingly* sexist and moderately humble ...

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Arthur B

at 00:02 on 2012-02-25"Authors Behaving Badly" make me think of an overrated sitcom in which R. Scott Bakker and Jay Lake are slovenly flatmates who are constantly taken aback by their inability to convince the feminists living downstairs that they're totally on their side.

#Ferretbrain #Nights of Villjamur #Mark Charan Newton #Fantasy Rape Watch #Wardog #Emocakes

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dfroza · 4 years

Text

Today’s reading in the ancient book of Proverbs and Psalms

for Saturday, june 6 of 2020 with Proverbs 6 and Psalm 6 accompanied by Psalm 80 for the 80th day of Spring and Psalm 8 for day 158 of the year

[Proverbs 6]

My son, if you cosign a loan for an acquaintance

and guarantee his debt,

you’ll be sorry that you ever did it!

You’ll be trapped by your promise

and legally bound by the agreement.

So listen carefully to my advice:

Quickly get out of it if you possibly can!

Swallow your pride, get over your embarrassment,

and go tell your “friend” you want your name off that contract.

Don’t put it off, and don’t rest until you get it done.

Rescue yourself from future pain

and be free from it once and for all.

You’ll be so relieved that you did!

[Life Lessons]

When you’re feeling lazy,

come and learn a lesson from this tale of the tiny ant.

Yes, all you lazybones, come learn

from the example of the ant and enter into wisdom.

The ants have no chief, no boss, no manager—

no one has to tell them what to do.

You’ll see them working and toiling all summer long,

stockpiling their food in preparation for winter.

So wake up, sleepyhead. How long will you lie there?

When will you wake up and get out of bed?

If you keep nodding off and thinking, “I’ll do it later,”

or say to yourself, “I’ll just sit back awhile and take it easy,”

just watch how the future unfolds!

By making excuses you’ll learn what it means to go without.

Poverty will pounce on you like a bandit

and move in as your roommate for life.

Here’s another life lesson to learn

from observing the wayward and wicked man.

You can tell they are lawless.

They’re constant liars, proud deceivers,

full of clever ploys and convincing plots.

Their twisted thoughts are perverse,

always with a scheme to stir up trouble,

and sowing strife with every step they take.

But when calamity comes knocking on their door,

suddenly and without warning they’re undone—

broken to bits, shattered, with no hope of healing.

[Seven Things God Hates]

There are six evils God truly hates

and a seventh that is an abomination to him:

Putting others down while considering yourself superior,

spreading lies and rumors,

spilling the blood of the innocent,

plotting evil in your heart toward another,

gloating over doing what’s plainly wrong,

spouting lies in false testimony,

and stirring up strife between friends.

These are entirely despicable to God!

My son, obey your father’s godly instruction

and follow your mother’s life-giving teaching.

Fill your heart with their advice

and let your life be shaped by what they’ve taught you.

Their wisdom will guide you wherever you go

and keep you from bringing harm to yourself.

Their instruction will whisper to you at every sunrise

and direct you through a brand-new day.

For truth is a bright beam of light

shining into every area of your life,

instructing and correcting you to discover the ways to godly living.

[Truth or Consequences]

Truth will protect you from immorality

and from the promiscuity of another man’s wife.

Your heart won’t be enticed by her flatteries

or lust over her beauty—

nor will her suggestive ways conquer you.

Prostitutes reduce a man to poverty,

and the adulteress steals your soul—

she may even cost you your life!

For how can a man light his pants on fire and not be burned?

Can he walk over hot coals of fire and not blister his feet?

What makes you think that you can sleep with another man’s wife

and not get caught?

Do you really think you’ll get away with it?

Don’t you know it will ruin your life?

You can almost excuse a thief if he steals to feed his own family.

But if he’s caught, he still has to pay back what he stole sevenfold;

his punishment and fine will cost him greatly.

Don’t be so stupid as to think

you can get away with your adultery.

It will destroy your life, and you’ll pay the price

for the rest of your days.

You’ll discover what humiliation, shame,

and disgrace are all about,

for no one will ever let you forget what you’ve done.

A husband’s jealousy makes a man furious;

he won’t spare you when he comes to take revenge.

Try all you want to talk your way out of it—

offer him a bribe and see if you can manipulate him

with your money.

Nothing will turn him aside

when he comes to you with vengeance in his eyes!

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 6 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 6]

A Cry for Healing

For the Pure and Shining One

A song for the end, sung for the new day by King David

No, Lord! Don’t condemn me.

Don’t punish me in your fiery anger.

Please deal gently with me, Yahweh;

show me mercy, for I’m sick and frail.

I’m fading away with weakness.

Heal me, for I’m falling apart.

How long until you take away this pain in my body and in my soul?

Lord, I’m trembling in fear!

Yahweh, return to me and deliver my life

because I know your faithful love is toward me.

How can I be any good to you dead?

For graveyards sing no songs.

In the darkness of death who remembers you?

How could I bring you praise if I’m buried in a tomb?

I’m exhausted and worn out with my weeping.

I endure weary, sleepless nights filled with moaning,

soaking my pillow with my tears.

My eyes of faith won’t focus anymore, for sorrow fills my heart.

There are so many enemies who come against me!

Go away! Leave me, all you troublemakers!

For the Lord has turned to listen to my thunderous cry.

Yes! Yahweh my healer has heard all my pleading

and has taken hold of my prayers and answered them all.

Now it’s my enemies who have been shamed.

Terror-stricken, they will turn back again,

knowing the bitterness of sudden disgrace!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 6 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 80]

For the worship leader. A song of Asaph to the tune “The Lilies.”

Turn Your ear toward us, Shepherd of Israel,

You who lead the children of Joseph like a flock.

You who sit enthroned above heaven’s winged creatures,

radiate Your light!

In the presence of Ephraim, Benjamin, and Manasseh,

arouse Your strength and power,

and save us!

Bring us back to You, God.

Turn the light of Your face upon us so that we will be rescued from this sea of darkness.

O Eternal God, Commander of heaven’s armies,

how long will You remain angry at the prayers of Your sons and daughters?

You have given them tears for food;

You have given them an abundance of tears to drink.

You have made us a source of trouble for our neighbors—

our enemies laugh to each other behind our backs.

O God, Commander of heaven’s armies, bring us back to You.

Turn the light of Your face upon us so that we will be rescued from this sea of darkness.

You took us like a grapevine dug from the soil of Egypt;

You forced out the nations and transplanted it in Your land.

You groomed the ground around it,

planted it so it would root deep into the earth, and it covered all the land.

As it grew, the mountains were blanketed by its shadow;

the mighty cedars were covered by its branches.

The plant extended its branches to the Mediterranean Sea,

and spread its shoots all the way to the Euphrates River.

God, why have You pulled down the wall that protected it

so that everyone who wanders by can pick its sweet grapes?

The wild boar of the forest eats it all,

and the creatures of the field feast upon it.

O God, Commander of heaven’s armies, come back to us.

Gaze down from heaven and see what has happened.

Keep watch over this vine, and nourish it.

Look after the saplings which You planted with Your own right hand,

the child whom You have raised and nurtured for Yourself.

Your enemies have chopped it down and burned it with fire;

may they be destroyed by the sight of Your rebuke.

Let Your protective hand rest on the one who is at Your right hand,

the child of man whom You have raised and nurtured for Yourself.

Then we will not turn away from You.

Bring us back to life! And we will call out for You!

O Eternal God, Commander of heaven’s armies, bring us back to You.

Turn the light of Your face upon us so that we will be rescued from this sea of darkness.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 80 (The Voice)

[Psalm 8]

God’s Splendor

For the Pure and Shining One

Set to the melody of “For the Feast of Harvest,” by King David

Lord, your name is so great and powerful!

People everywhere see your splendor.

Your glorious majesty streams from the heavens,

filling the earth with the fame of your name!

You have built a stronghold by the songs of babies.

Strength rises up with the chorus of singing children.

This kind of praise has the power to shut Satan’s mouth.

Childlike worship will silence

the madness of those who oppose you.

Look at the splendor of your skies,

your creative genius glowing in the heavens.

When I gaze at your moon and your stars,

mounted like jewels in their settings,

I know you are the fascinating artist who fashioned it all!

But when I look up and see

such wonder and workmanship above,

I have to ask you this question:

Compared to all this cosmic glory,

why would you bother with puny, mortal man

or be infatuated with Adam’s sons?

Yet what honor you have given to men,

created only a little lower than Elohim,

crowned like kings and queens with glory and magnificence.

You have delegated to them

mastery over all you have made,

making everything subservient to their authority,

placing earth itself under the feet of your image-bearers.

All the created order and every living thing

of the earth, sky, and sea—

the wildest beasts and all the sea creatures—

everything is in submission to Adam’s sons.

Lord, your name is so great and powerful.

People everywhere see your majesty!

What glory streams from the heavens,

filling the earth with the fame of your name!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 8 (The Passion Translation)

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comiconverse · 7 years

Text

Game Review: Horizon Zero Dawn

Coming off the back of two years worth of hype and anticipation, is Horizon Zero Dawn the game we’re all hoping it is? ComiConverse contributor Dan Goad has this review.

Game Review: Horizon Zero Dawn

Horizon Zero Dawn has been on the top of many people’s most anticipated list this year, including mine. After winning Best Original Game at E3 two years running, as well as a host of other pre-release accolades from various outlets, it’s got a lot of hype to live up to. So I’m happy to report upfront that HZD is a great game. In fact, it’s a brilliant one. It’s by no means perfect, but it certainly deserves to stand shoulder to shoulder with The Last of Us as two of the best exclusives PlayStation has to offer.

HZD is set in a post-post-apocalyptic world many centuries in the future. This isn’t a Fallout-style world where humanity is only just recovering from disaster. Civilisation has begun anew and only a few remnants of the world that came before remain. Chief amongst these are the mysterious machines, robotic creatures that seem to be modelled on dinosaurs and other animals. The player character is Aloy, a young woman who is an outcast from her matriarchal society because she has no mother. She is initially driven by her search for an identity, all the while dealing with the non-acceptance of those around her. As the game progresses the player will explore the origins of Aloy, the machines, and the world as a whole.

These multiple mysteries had me hooked from the beginning and I found myself constantly wanting to return to the game to find answers. When the emotional pay-off does come it is well worth the 40+ hours you have been waiting for it. Little touches really help turn this into a believable world, such as audio recordings and misunderstood relics from the previous civilisation. While suffering occasionally from the odd poorly written line, the plot is helped along by a strong voice cast featuring video game veterans like Lance Reddick and JB Blanc, as well as Ashly Burch (Tiny Tina from Borderlands 2) as Aloy. Burch is great as Aloy, delivering complex emotions and just the right amount of sarcasm to make her a fun character to spend this long amount of time with.

Credit: Sony/Guerrilla Games

There are dialogue choices within the game, but don’t expect branching narratives and massive ripples in the way you would with a Bioware game. Aloy generally has the decision to react aggressively, thoughtfully or emotionally. Sometimes there will be consequences to these decisions later, but there is no good/evil morality scale here. To some this will be a disappointment, but in many ways it is liberating. When you’re freed from the shackles of trying to play the game as a paragon or a renegade you are free to take each choice as it comes and do what makes sense in each situation.

The game has a fairly slow start as you learn the basic mechanics of the game, initially controlling Aloy as a child and later as a young woman. But once you get past those first 90 minutes and the world is open to you, you’re free to proceed however you want. You can continue the main quest, complete some side quests, or just admire the scenery as you traverse and climb it, Uncharted-style.

Credit: Sony/Guerrilla Games

And make no mistake, that scenery is stunningly beautiful, even on a standard PS4. In fact I’d go as far as to say it has the best looking world of any game ever. The post-post-apocalyptic setting means we don’t have the grey and brown colour scheme from games like Fallout; instead it is all greens and blues. Each tree and rock is meticulously crafted and the range of locations only adds to the visual feast. If I have one criticism it is that sometimes the transitions between different areas, for example going from snowy mountains to desert, can seem sudden and unrealistic – but it is a small price to pay for some of the most disparate landscapes ever seen in a video game. What’s more is that the developers have included a dedicated photo mode, so you can pause the game and start snapping away, adding things like filters or changing angles. It’s a nice little touch that allows you to really preserve and share some of those breathtaking visuals.

The open world and detailed graphics might lead to some concerns over performance, but I don’t have any complaints. Frame-rate is kept consistent at 30 frames per second – a conservative limit, but it means there is no skipping or dropping. Load times are good. It takes a little while to load up, but once you are in there it’s only a few seconds of waiting for fast travel or after death. All of this is of course even better on PS4 Pro.

Credit: Sony/Guerrilla Games

HZD has been criticised for taking the best elements of a number of other games – Far Cry, Witcher, Tomb Raider, Shadow of Mordor to name a few – and simply mashing them together. But for me the whole is much greater than the sum of its parts. It takes elements from each of those games and shapes them around its immensely fun combat systems.

Combating the machines requires patience and stealth, since Aloy can quickly become overwhelmed if she rushes into a fight. Even the docile “herbivore” machines are aggressive and dangerous if Aloy comes too close. Luckily there is plenty of long grass for Aloy to hide in and she has a number of weapons at her disposal. Her primary weapon is a bow and arrows, with various upgradeable skills – such as slowing time as she aims – helping immensely. She can also lay down trip wires and other traps, as well as more mundane items such as throwing rocks to distract the machines. A lot of these items are virtually useless in the heat of a fight, so careful planning is definitely a must. She has a useful roll skill as well as a melee spear for emergencies, but often the best course of action once discovered is to run, hide and start again.

The most useful weapon in her arsenal is her Focus power. Similar to Assassin’s Creed’s eagle vision or Batman: Arkham’s detective mode, this mode allows Aloy to see the machines through obstacles. She can tag them or their movement paths so they are visible in the normal view. The Focus will also highlight any weak points on the machines’ bodies, which are sometimes weapons which can be knocked off and used by the player. Later in the game Aloy gains the ability to hack the machines to use herself. The effect of hacking depends on the machine, but galloping around on a robot horse is great fun.

Credit: Sony/Guerrilla Games

Much in the tradition of open worlds from Bethesda or the Witcher 3, the game has a huge map with an extraordinarily large number of things to do. Whilst each side quest has it’s own mini-narrative, often the objectives are very similar. Virtually every one has you tracking someone or something, then killing someone or something. I’m one of those with a compulsive need to complete every mission, but I think some players will start ignoring them before the end of the game.

One small issue with the open world and how it relates to missions is the waypoint system. The HUD includes a compass across the top, which shows the final location of quests. However, quest waypoints in the main field of view will take you step by step to your destination. You might have 5 or 6 waypoints on the way to a quest marker, depending on distance and how complicated the route. Whilst this is useful if you’re trying to navigate round a mountain or similar, because they always lead you along a road you might find yourself going in the opposite direction to your objective. Plus having one waypoint in the main view and a different one on the compass can be confusing. It’s a minor problem that takes some getting used to, or you can disable the waypoints entirely and just rely on the compass and the main map. The HUD is fully customisable, so if you find it too cluttered you can get rid of things you don’t need.

You’ll also find yourself excessively collecting and hoarding virtually everything in the game. You’ll be picking plants for healing, or hunting and killing both machines and real animals for loot. Virtually everything in the world is useful for crafting or trading to merchants, so you’ll quickly become overburdened and have to craft additional storage space.

Credit: Sony/Guerrilla Games

HZD has one further huge positive that is really worth drawing attention to. Aloy is that rarity in video games, a strong female protagonist. Even more rarely, she is sensibly dressed, never appears on screen in order to titillate, and has no explicitly romantic relationships. And she isn’t the only progressive character. This game is filled with both significant female characters and people of colour. It touches on LGBT issues and mental illness. In an age where every other lead character is a muscled white guy and female characters still have swimsuits instead of armour, HZD feels like a massive step forward for representation in gaming.

Conclusion

Horizon Zero Dawn lives up to the hype and then some. It is a great game and will be winning awards all year long. Yes, it borrows from other games, but it meshes those elements with fun combat, a captivating narrative and a heroine who is both engaging and progressive. It’s a step forward for gaming and is destined to birth a new mega-franchise. It’s not perfect, but it is pretty close.

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