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INTERVIEW: with author Steve Hugh Westenra

We got a chance to speak with Steve Hugh Westenra about their upcoming sword & sorcery novella The Barbarian at Dream’s End. Westenra is the writer of the epic fantasy novel The Wings of Astaroth and the horror comedy novel The Erstwhile Tyler Kyle. We talk about the sword & sorcery genre, He-Man, and the funding campaign behind the novella.

[GdM] Thanks so much for taking the time for this interview! Can you tell us who you are and what sorts of stories you write?

[SHW] Sure thing! I’m Steve, an academic who works on monsters and the monstrous. I’m also a fantasy and horror author whose work tends to straddle genres.

For me, a good story is a good story, and good writing is good writing, regardless of genre. Because of that, I tend to be pretty adventurous both as a reader and an author. That said, I’ve been a lifelong horror fan, and I’d say horror is the genre that really infuses everything I do to a greater or lesser degree. The brightness and the humour of Barbarian probably seems, on the surface, to be at odds with that, but for me I feel like horror is quite complementary to genres and aesthetics that are, on the surface, very bright. I think for works that present any kind of an optimism, for them to have real depth—for them to have something to be optimistic about, in a sense—they almost need that sense of unease, eeriness, or dark possibility undergirding them.

[GdM] The Barbarian at Dream’s End is a sword & sorcery story, but the overall narrative and atmosphere seems like it falls in more in line with something like a He-Ma n story rather than a Conan the Barbarian tale. Could you talk about your inspirations for this story? Did you have any challenges while writing it? (I’d be remiss if I didn’t talk about the gorgeous cover art by Matthew Spencer, which really sold the novella for me immediately)

[SHW] Matthew really did a phenomenal job, didn’t he? I have to say, it was such a joy seeing each of his sketches for the cover (he floated several options in terms of both the concept and colour, and they were each of them fantastic. Truly, we were spoiled for choice).

My involvement in the project was maybe a bit unorthodox, since it was actually NESS’s editor, Oliver Brackenbury, who reached out to me to see whether I’d be interested in penning a novella. I can’t get into too many specifics in terms of why I was contacted, as they may lead to spoilers for the story itself, but I’ll say upfront that the basic concept of the novella was something Oliver had come up with. The details (characters, world, the specifics of the plot, etc) are my own, but a big part of his pitch to me was a book that would be vibrant in the way that He-Man was. I’d watched the show (along with She-Ra) as a child, although only stray episodes, since we didn’t have cable in my house for a long time. But that aesthetic and the general feel of those programs was one that I enjoyed and that I was also attracted to. In fact, my original character design for San the barbarian was very very hair metal-inspired, and a lot more colourful. In the end we toned it down (though we may see the return of some aspects of that character design).

In many ways, creating the world of Barbarian with its somewhat zany denizens (sapient centipedes who are also buses, bird people who have super muscular gymbro arms instead of wings, a guy with a microphone for a head) has been like playing with childhood toys again. My friends and I were never ones for premade stories. We would craft these elaborate worlds full of internecine strife, wandering vagabonds, dramatic backstabs, and fantastical creatures. One of the best parts was being given the okay to go as weird and wonderful as I wanted. I’m not joking when I say that in my head the world of Barbarian (called Myrial), still uses the same huge wood floor my friend and I played on as kids as its canvas.

One thing I chatted to Oliver about in terms of the feel of the novella was infusing it with the richness of a lot of the children’s media I (and he, in many cases) loved as a child: Jim Henson’s Labyrinth, Don Bluth’s work, the texture of 70s and 80s animation. The Barbarian at Dream’s End isn’t for children, but it is influenced by childhood, as well as what I would call a meaningful, weighty darkness that much children’s media of the time used to engage with, and which I very much miss. Maybe, “thematic weightiness” is a better way to put it, since for all that it often is “dark,” it’s not what I would call childishly “edgy.” It’s a darkness counterbalanced, emphasized, even underscored, by humour and light. Basically, it has layers, and those layers breathe a sense of realism into the fantasy. Tragedy, too. Tragedy is important for me as a writer.

Another work that I very much drew on for inspiration was a lesser-known live action Canadian kids show from the 90s called The Odyssey. I’m going to keep the “why” of that a bit close to my vest, but as a child I watched the show with my parents. It had such an addictive storyline.

I do hope that Barbarian is received as an earnest expression of what makes (and made) these earlier works compelling and meaningful to so many people, while still being very much its own thing. A contribution to a tradition, let’s say, rather than a cheap or cynical extortion based on a dangerous and commercially motivated form of nostalgia. It’s a fine needle to thread, but I’m very happy to try.

In terms of challenges, I think the main one has been writing and editing with everything that’s currently going on in the world. I wrote Barbarian much slower than I’m used to writing, but not because of the book itself. I’ve slowed down considerably in general due to stress and overwhelm. It feels both particularly important, especially as a trans person, to continue to create right now, but it’s also simultaneously that much harder.

[GdM] What drew you to S&S in particular? What is it about the genre that you enjoy, and/or are there things about the genre that you’re maybe not the biggest fan of?

[SHW] I’m very much a fan of the limitlessness of what can be imagined whether in terms of setting, or in terms of plot and idea. While I also grew up on Tolkien and Dragonlance (which itself draws on Tolkienian concepts), the creativity and expansiveness of Sword and Sorcery worlds is particularly compelling in the face of what can sometimes feel like an endless conveyor belt of shallow Tolkien clones.

In many ways, Sword and Sorcery, more perhaps than in other fantasy subgenres, has always seemed to me to be the genre of phantasy. I’ve previously described my horror novel, The Erstwhile Tyler Kyle, as a book that I initially conceived of as being “pure Id.” I think there’s an element of that to Sword and Sorcery as well. Perhaps this is itself a little fanciful, but I see it as a genre that in a way wears its psychology on its sleeve and takes no prisoners while it does so. I’m not sure that aspect of S&S is particularly visible in Barbarian (nor is the elegiac quality I see as essential to Lord Dusany’s work, and which I particularly enjoy). That aforementioned sense of expansiveness and possibility though—a rock and roll sensibility, maybe, is definitely there, along with a suspicion of straightforward narratives of good and evil (I’m all about the morally grey!).

Of course, whether because of when they were written or because of their phantastical layering, many classic Sword and Sorcery texts are peppered with both racist and sexist archetypes, stereotypes, and storylines. In many ways, I think that’s what NESS is doing that’s very special—that is, deliberately addressing and pushing back against those elements, while retaining the sense of mythological and historical density that drew fans to the genre.

Author Steve Hugh Westenra

[GdM] S&S is a very episodic genre of fantasy. Are you hoping to write other tales set in this world?

[SHW] I’d certainly love to! I can say, I have future stories planned for the characters and world. I’d love to be able to write them, and for them to come out through NESS. If people enjoy this one, I’ll be very happy. Hopefully, they enjoy it enough to demand more stories!

[GdM] Not only do you write S&S, but you’ve got books in the epic fantasy and horror genres. Are there any genres you hope to dig into some day?

[SHW] For the time being, most of my projects are at least adjacent to horror and fantasy in one way or another. In many ways, and this will probably seem strange to those who write in non-speculative genres, I find the idea of writing a straight-up contemporary, non-speculative book quite daunting. That said, I’m a playful writer and everything I do can’t help, I think, but be impacted by the fact that I read widely in terms of genre. Almost everything I do incorporates mystery, for example (to the degree that I’m barely able to imagine writing something that doesn’t have an element of mystery to it, or what the purpose would be in writing such a thing).

One thing I’m not sure I’d ever get the opportunity to do (but which I would love), is a comic book. I’m a very visual writer and I find that idea quite exciting.

But honestly, never say never! I’ll read or watch anything if the writing and characterization are good (there was a day when I watched basically anything HBO put out, regardless of genre, because so much of it was excellent).

[GdM] The Barbarian at Dream’s End is part of a larger crowdfunding campaign with Brackenbury Books. Can you talk about what that experience working with them has been like?

[SHW] It’s been a very new experience for me, and I’m happy to say it’s been a good one. I’d recommend the publisher as one who’s safe to work with. I have a short story releasing with them in 2026 and that will be my first traditionally published story (outside a poem in a local anthology). I’m quite excited about it.

It’s also been great participating in the NESS Discord (though it’s big, so I’m not the most active). It’s a very welcoming group of people, who’re all united by a love of the genre, but also a sense of openness and fairness. That’s distressingly rare these days and I value it tremendously. The support around the crowdfunding campaign has also been phenomenal. I think one of the strengths of Oliver’s marketing around it has been that his own responses to the novellas are enthusiastic and genuine. In a world where authenticity has become something we’re encouraged to manufacture, that true authentic response stands out. Audiences will hopefully notice that as well.

One thing that’s been unusual, and that will probably be more interesting to readers, is that some of the promotional material was completed before the story was finished (I was sketching characters for artists to look at before I’d written the characters themselves, for example). It’s not something I’ve done before, and that’s been fascinating and challenging (not in a bad way, but in a way that I think has taught me some new ways of approaching how I brainstorm).

[GdM] What are you reading now?

[SHW] As always, I’m reading too many things! I just finished Joshua Whitehead’s essay collection, Making Love to the Land, which was lyrical and gutting in equal measure. I’m also reading Mika Hunter and Francis Deer’s wonderful fantasy, Stars and Ravens (I’m surprised the self-pub fantasy community hasn’t jumped on it, to be honest), Body After Body by Briar Ripley Paige, and Watcher by J. P. Relph and Mathew Gostelow as part of my allocation as a judge for the SFINCS novella competition.

[GdM] Do you have any projects that you’re working on now you’d like to (or can!) talk about? Do you have anything coming out soon that we should look out for?

[SHW] Along with reading too many things, I’m also writing too many things! The main book I’d like to have out next year is my horror novella, Breadcrumbs on a Forest Floor. It’s about a trans man from outport Newfoundland who is taken by the fairies as a child, only to awake many years later on the grave of the changeling who replaced him (and whose murder he has to solve).

I’m also continuing my epic fantasy series with The Crown of Asmodeus and will be working on For One Night Only (sequel to The Erstwhile Tyler Kyle). There’s a standalone horror I’ve been dying to write (my take on the rather crowded haunted house subgenre), but I don’t know when I’ll find time to work on it. That one involves a group of influencers, psychics, and ghost hunters who are invited to the self-proclaimed “most haunted house in the country,” for a reality TV show that’s a bit like The Traitors. Needless to say, the eliminations are not what they seem (and as a teaser for anyone who’s read The Erstwhile Tyler Kyle, Kayla is one of the guests).

The Barbarian at Dream’s End is currently being crowdfunded over at BackerKit.

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REVIEW: The October Film Haunt by Michael Wehunt

Developed from an earlier short story, The October Film Haunt by Michael Wehunt blends occult and modern slasher themes to disturb and delight. Jorie Stroud has removed all things horror from her life following a tragedy she accidentally set in motion a decade ago; now she lives with her son in sleepy, backwater Vermont, scare-free until someone leaves an unsettling VHS tape in her mailbox. On it is what appears to be a remaking of (oc)cult film Proof of Demons, which was a catalyst for Jorie’s life falling to pieces years ago. Back then, a hardcore contingent of fans were convinced Proof of Demons contained instructions on how to open a doorway and summon a demon. Following the death of teenager, Hannah Kim, in a failed attempt at summoning such a demon, the film fell away from the public eye.

Jorie holds onto guilt for the death of Kim, as it was her blog The October Film Haunt that really ratcheded up the fervor around Proof of Demons and drew more acolytes to it. The blog was the brain-child of Jorie and two friends, Colin and Beth, all horror fanatics, who would camp out at iconic horror movie locations each October, and report back their experiences to their fanbase. So when this new tape arrives, with eerily familiar scenes, pacing and settings, Jorie fears Proof of Demons isn’t finished with her yet.

When described in the book, Proof of Demons sounds like one of those slow-paced horror films with lots of dragging silence that is tense and unknowable, as if something has been placed just out of reach of the audience, all of which builds the unease and the scare-factor. Reading The October Film Haunt feels a lot like watching that kind of movie. Very early on, you will get the feeling that something is not quite right. Something else is going on that no one has quite figured out yet.

Through multiple POVs and the occasional epistolary entry, The October Film Haunt is split into three ‘Tapes’ (or, sections), and it builds a slow and steady dread throughout. At times, scenes feel almost uncanny, as something not-quite-real tries to seep through into the world. The October Film Haunt captures the feeling of watching a deeply creepy and impenetrably weird horror movie perfectly. If you’ve enjoyed films like It Follows, or Hereditary, then this should be right up your alley.

Read The October Film Haunt by Michael Wehunt

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REVIEW: The White Rose by Glen Cook

Glen Cook’s The White Rose is a dark, gritty and strange novel that brings to a close the first trilogy in The Chronicles of the Black Company. Full of sharp dialogue and absurd worldbuilding, The White Rose is a grimdark novel that verges on the Weird, leaning into the bizarre and hallucinatory aspects of dark fantasy and horror while continuing Croaker’s story of the Company’s fractured relationship with the Lady. 

The White Rose, the third entry in Glen Cook’s Chronicles of the Black Company, helped solidify many of the tropes and expectations of what would later become the grimdark genre. The series itself could be described as a blending of Conan the Barbarian and the Vietnam War, and The White Rose is all that and more. The novel closes the first arc of the series set on the Northern Continent, (dubbed The Books of the North), continuing the military conflicts the Company face as they navigate tense and shaky allegiances. 

Set six years after their desertion of the Lady in Shadows Linger, The White Rose follows the Black Company as they hide out in a desert known as the Plain of Fear. The Company have aligned themselves with the young girl Darling (The White Rose) and are seeking a way to fight back against the Lady, primarily through learning her true name which will nullify her powers and strip her of control. It is from the bizarre landscape of the Plain, with its large, deadly coral and talking menhirs, that the Company collects and interrogates intel regarding the Lady. As with the first two novels of the series, this book is primarily narrated by the Company physician and annalist, Croaker, and much of the novel is concerned with the capture and poring over of information. The intel in question are letters addressed to Croaker regarding a man named Bomanz who released the Lady and The Ten Who Were Taken from their prisons in the Barrowlands. Eventually, the Black Company find themselves caught in the conflict between the Dominator, the Lady and the White Rose.

‘There are strangers on the Plain, Croaker.’

Where The Black Company followed solely Croaker’s narration and Shadows Linger introduced a second third-person perspective, The White Rose expands to three points of view: Croaker, the wizard Bomanz and a stranger known as Corbie. These three plotlines (all taking place at different times) do eventually converge, however for a first time reader thrown into each perspective with little set up, keeping track can be quite disorienting. Luckily though, Cook’s writing had improved on this novel and even chapters littered with confusion are a joy to read. Just roll with the punches and trust it will all make sense. 

This focus on reading documents is an interesting and experimental take for a series known for its action and violence. The White Rose is by far the least action-packed of this first trilogy and, coming off the back of Shadows Linger, it is a deliberate yet odd choice. 

That is not to say The White Rose is without action, there are battles here (featuring tentacled windwhales, flying carpets and aerial bombings!), but the focus has shifted from fighting war directly with weapons to the importance of information in warfare. This exploration, while some may find it tedious, is an insightful approach by Cook; so often we like our fantasy bloody and violent, but here Glen Cook highlights how crucial information is in warfare and how what is known and unknown can drastically alter outcomes.

Cook’s prose, as always, is laconic and raw, giving the reader bare, sparse details but just enough to hint at greater depths and truths left unspoken. Cook paints his scenes and dialogue with simple strokes laid by a professional hand that fester images within the reader’s mind. Less is more when it comes to his description, and Glen Cook does so beautifully. Far from verbose and purple, the prose (and simultaneously Croaker’s narration) is minimalist and straight in its approach; as is to be expected from soldiers on the front lines where death is always at their heels. It is in the spaces between the words, the chasms between what is said and what is left unsaid, that vivid images of this bizarre and bleak world are left to bloom.  

The worldbuilding in this novel is bizarre to say the least—in the best way possible. The majority of the novel is spent hiding out in the Plain of Fear, a desert full of poisonous coral with a sentient alien tree at its heart. Across this landscape sweep change storms, colossal storms that change the shape and appearance of all they touch, twisting regular people into grotesque mockeries. The environment is home to some of the most absurd and wondrous creatures I have yet read in fantasy. From soaring windwhales to strangely described backward camel centaurs (try to visualise it!), walking trees, flying mantas and menhirs that talk (repeating only one sentence), The White Rose is littered with all manner of creatures that would feel at home in the Weird Fiction of the pulp era. 

The White Rose, while not as action-packed or fast-paced as the previous two novels, brings this first trilogy to a very satisfying close. It completes the Black Company’s struggles between the Dominator, the Lady and the White Rose, tying off many loose ends but leaving others open for future exploration. 

So much of grimdark’s DNA was formed in Glen Cook’s The Black Company, and echoes of it linger prominently in more modern grimdark works (Erikson and Esslemont’s Malazan books in particular). There is a soldierly approach to the writing and plotting. These books are not concerned with grand, sweeping epics but rather the everyday soldier up to his knees in battle. The White Rose is perfect for those in search of short, punchy and satisfyingly dark books.

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REVIEW: Alien: Earth

Alien: Earth and creator, Noah Hawley, has succeeded in offering us a strong installment that continues the Alien legacy, while also bringing something new to the table. It embraces the slightly more philosophical side of the franchise and doesn’t skimp on the limb-flying, bloody action, or the ominous tension either.

Homage is most obviously paid with the Maginot and crew – the interior of the ship is nearly identical to the Nostromo, the crew are similar in their bickering, even down to the ship’s cat. That cat is an indicator, early in the series, of Hawley & co’s intentions for Alien: Earth. No one is safe.

Although Weyland-Yutani have sent the Maginot out to collect ‘specimens’ – including a familiar clutch of large, leathery eggs – most of Alien: Earth approaches events from the perspective of rival company Prodigy, headed up by imminently hateable Boy Kavalier (Samuel Blenkin). In this dystopian future of mega-corporations controlling, and governing, different swathes of countries, there is a never-ending struggle to one-up each other. Kavalier’s next big breakthrough is planned to be hybrids: human consciousness transferred into a synthetic body, in an attempt at immortality.

We are introduced to his ‘Lost Boys’, who are a group of terminally ill children who are the first to have their minds transferred into synthetic bodies. All the children are renamed after characters from Peter Pan – Wendy, Smee, Slightly, Nibs, Curly, and Tootles – seemingly for camaraderie, although more realistically to hide their identities from the wider world. Wendy (Sydney Chandler) is the first transferee and becomes the de facto leader of the group of children with supercomputer brains and preternaturally strong bodies.

With the slight headstart she has, Wendy begins developing skills afforded to her by this new body and piques Boy Kavalier’s interests to see how far she can be pushed. Into this setup, crashes the Maginot, straight into the middle of Prodigy territory. Keen to secure the specimens on board and gain another edge over the competition, the Lost Boys and their synthetic ‘handler’ Kirsch (Timothy Oliphant) are hurtled into the chaos.

Aboard the Maginot, only one man has survived the crash – Morrow (Babou Ceesay) – a cyborg with an enhanced arm that sports a vicious blade that emerges through the middle of his fist, courtesy of Weyland-Yutani. Morrow is tasked directly by Ms. Yutani to keep the ship and cargo contained, which is easier said than done when it transpires several of the predatory lifeforms on board are loose.

This is the broad set-up for Alien: Earth, and the first half of the series will hook and draw you in with the action and horror that’s associated with the Alien universe. It’s tense, violent and keeps viewers on the edge of their seat. Within that melange are little gems of insight that hint at the grander hopes of the series. 

There’s a lot of cyborg theory dropped into Alien: Earth, which focuses on the artificial boundaries between human and non-human animals, and then human-animals and cyborgs. As the children grapple with their identities, they’re pushed in different directions by the adults around them, only now they have the capability to push back. Morrow asks, “When is a machine not a machine?” when he encounters Slightly and Smee on the Maginot, and this too hints at the wider philosophical questions the series is trying to posit.

Alien: Earth is at its core a story of two halves. On the one side we have the classic aggressive, predatory alien lifeforms that humans are trying to profit from and hoping they don’t get loose (oh, the hubris!). On the other side, it’s trying to needle into that situation and ask how we got there in the first place. The Lost Boys bring a child’s innocent view of the world – of right and wrong – that would usually have been destroyed by the time they grew up enough to effect any real change. With their grown-up-plus bodies, however, they can dig their heels in and confront the mechanisms around them to challenge the status quo.

Alien: Earth pulls on the central themes of the original films, and even seems to veer into some of the non-film novels, to bring us a comprehensive new chapter in the franchise. There’s action, scares, tension and content to make you interrogate where we’re heading as a species. There are a few little inconsistencies here and there but the performance of the cast more than makes up for it. It is certainly up there as one of the better entries in the universe, and even as a standalone piece of TV it is greatly entertaining. With a franchise as long-standing and varied as Alien, there will be some people who don’t enjoy it, sure, but I thoroughly enjoyed it and plan to start a rewatch ASAP.

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REVIEW: Red City by Marie Lu

Alchemy, in Marie Lu’s adult debut Red City, is the art of transformation. In the novel, we learn that a drug known as Sand is used amongst alchemists to heighten their strengths, but also their weaknesses. The tagline of the book reads ‘power always has a price’, referring largely to the fact that the use of alchemy erodes part of the user’s soul.  It also, however, alludes to the greater narrative of the story, that power is a give-and-take; so how much are you willing to give up?

Ari and Sam both battle with this question, in their own ways. Ari, uprooted from his family, country and language, is brought to an alternate Los Angeles known as Angel City, and as a child is recruited by Lumines, one of the biggest alchemy syndicates in the country. Ari is magnetic, attracting attention wherever he goes. This is largely used to his strength, as he uses this attribute to dazzle clients, broker connections and win everyone over. He is, however, riddled with anxiety; heightened with his use of sand, he is constantly teetering on the edge, and questioning the decisions made that have brought him to where he is. His family in Gujarat have been used as leverage against him, and so he finds himself bound to the company that has shaped him into the weapon he is.

Sam, however, was not plucked to join a syndicate, but instead forces her way in by getting in front of Diamond Taylor, the founder of the alchemy syndicate Grand Central. Desperate for aid and money for her injured mother, Sam joins Grand Central and becomes a prodigy of sort; using her ability to get around unnoticed to her strength as the group’s ‘ghost’. Ari and Sam, initially childhood friends, find themselves unexpectedly reunited years later as rivals at the helm of a turf war.

Red City is filled with angst and yearning, in such an artful way that you almost forget that a romance is threading the story together. The yearning spans more than just the romance, but also the deep yearning for ambition and power, two things at the centre of Ari and Sam’s core. The character arcs are masterful; we follow Sam and Ari at age 15, and then later at age 24, and readers will feel the sense that you grow with them, despite them only doing so in a mere 400 pages. It’s astonishing how Lu can build such formidable characters in the first book of a series; I feel so attached to them already. The side characters feel so fully formed and intentional in their characterisations; everyone is a piece to a puzzle and builds towards the story exceptionally.

We see Ari and Sam battle with toxic relationships and stumble across friendships built on camaraderie, but my favourite connection explored was Sam and her mother, Connie’s. Connie moved to Angel City from China when Sam was a few months old, fleeing an abusive marriage in search of a better life for her daughter. Buried in work and barely scraping by, Connie and Sam drift further away from each other as the years go by, and we see Sam join Grand Central at a particular breaking point in her relationship with her mother. As the story goes on, we see how much of the decisions that sway her are rooted in not only ambition and the desire for belonging; but also to give her mother what she thought she always wanted. Lu explores the immigrant and first generation immigrant narrative so well and with such an emotional weight. 

The action is grim and so incredibly detailed; it’s so difficult to pull off elemental magic as a unique system, but Lu has changed the trajectory as a whole. Readers see first hand all the different ways that alchemy can take a life; and there are many. From transmutating your opponents skin to the pavement, to melding metal to your target’s scalp – the fighting tactics are innovative and gruesome, and you simply can’t stop reading. The possibilities are truly endless with alchemy. The political intrigue is fantastic and always keeping readers on their toes. There is no clear right and wrong within the syndicates, and their actions certainly lay in a morally grey area. The world-building in general is phenomenal, and learning about the existing protocols and rules that the political and magical systems adhere to is much appreciated in an urban fantasy. It almost feels so real, which is oftentimes quite hard to find in this particular sub-genre. 

Red City is a masterclass in urban fantasy. A high-stakes and just downright cool fantasy, built on such emotional gravitas, Red City deserves all the praise, and more. For lovers of Fonda Lee’s Greenbone Saga, V.E. Schwab’s Vicious, and even Avatar: The Last Airbender, you are in for an absolute treat. Marie Lu has outdone herself, and I can’t wait to see how she tops this. 

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INTERVIEW: with author Christopher Ruocchio

Christopher Ruocchio—author of The Sun Eater series—sat with our team to discuss writing, catharsis, distinguishing sub-genres, video games, and, of course, Shadows Upon Time, the seventh and final novel of The Sun Eater series. 

[GdM] Hey Christopher, thanks so much for doing this interview! While I’m already aware that you and the books are fantastic, can you do me a favor and give them a quick pitch for the readers of this interview? 

[CR] Certainly, and thanks for having me. The Sun Eater is a space opera—I like to say science fantasy adventure—set some 20,000 years in our future, in a time when mankind has settled about a third of the galaxy. It is the story of a man named Hadrian Marlowe, a nobleman who runs away from his home in this great galactic empire and finds himself caught in the now centuries-long struggle between mankind and a race of alien marauders called the Cielcin. The series is written as a memoir, and Hadrian starts out by telling us that he is the man who ended the war and all-but-annihilated the Cielcin, and that he did so by destroying a star. I used to say the series is “like Star Wars, if you can imagine becoming Darth Vader was Anakin’s best available option.” The series owes a great deal to Dune as well, but it’s more Lynch than Herbert.

[GdM] So, Shadows Upon Time, the seventh and final novel in the Sun Eater series is coming out this November. The hype around its release is insane so let’s start with the obvious question: how do you feel about all of it?

[CR] This is perhaps not an inspiring answer, but I feel a bit aggrieved. I have worked on the series in some form or other since I was 8-years-old. I started trying to write a book in second grade, and I haven’t really stopped trying to finish that story until really a couple weeks ago, when I turned in the final page proofs. Now, Sun Eater in no way resembles what I started working on as a child, but the work itself never stopped. It’s weird to be done, and weirder to be starting the next project. Hadrian has been with me nearly my entire life. It is very strange to be done with him. I still don’t know how to feel.

That being said, I am extremely pleased with Shadows. The dozen or so people who have read it so far have loved it, and I am very encouraged by that response. I say often that I cannot really even see my work the way you all do, and so I can’t really see what the book is until I see what you all see in it. November will be a very exciting time for me. 

[GdM] During the writing of Shadows Upon Time, were there any moments that brought you close to tears? 

[CR] Yes. Toward the very end. There were a couple final scenes that almost—almost—got me. I don’t really connect emotionally with the content of the story, but as I say, I have grieved for the passing of the story as a whole. That being said, there was one finale that did get me. 

[GdM] From page one of Empire of Silence, everything has already happened and Hadrian is telling his life story. With the completion of Shadows Upon Time, were there any unplanned twists that came about as you wrote, or was it all pretty much outlined and completed as you’d expected?

[CR] There is an entire character in book 7 that was not part of any plan at all, but who appeared very early in the book and sort of grew to take up more space than I expected. Otherwise, Shadows was really the book I wanted to write. This is the book that really was the idea, and the rest of the series was the result of my working backward from the idea to be able to tell this story. We’ve always been heading toward this story. We just had to earn it. 

[GdM] In your interview with The Broken Binding you talked about the importance of outlining and how you sometimes over-do it. Have you ever had a plot thread outlined and then it refused to cooperate when you went to write it?

[CR] No, not really. All I’ve ever had is insufficient outlining. I have had to go back many, many times and elaborate on sections of the outline or otherwise adjust them. The problem is never really bad planning, just insufficient planning. Maybe that’s the sort of thing you mean, but I think the distinction matters. For example, in Demon in White, I had to stop and redo the outline for the Battle of Berenike three or four times as I was muddling through and realized I was having issues with logistics. Nothing gives me a bigger headache than logistics. Making sure the characters are where they need to be when they need to be there and that everything makes sense is a nightmare for me, especially with the kinds of time scales involved. Character is easy. Worldbuilding is easy. Theme and meaning are easy. It’s just making them all work together that makes me grind my teeth to their foundations.

[GdM] Throughout the Sun Eater series we’ve seen a pretty wide variety of subgenres come about (sword and sandal, horror, political thriller, etc.). Was that something done intentionally?

[CR] Yes and no. I have very contrary opinions (well, about everything—but) about genre. I am not sure science fiction even is a genre, for starters. I think that technically, the genre for Sun Eater is memoir—albeit a fictional one. What we call genres in fantasy-and science fiction-land seem to me more like clustered tropes. (We call cyberpunk a genre, but is it not really more a question of aesthetics and worldbuilding choices? Is that a genre? I’m not so sure…) I admit this is eggheaded hairsplitting behavior, but then I am an egghead who likes to split hairs. In any case, I think of these things—whatever they are—things like sword and sandal, or horror, or thriller, more as colors on my palette than boxes to fit my story into. I do not and have never cared about BISACs and what tab my work should go under on Amazon. The algorithm can eat itself for all I care. I try to write my story like it is, like it needs to be, and let the marketing people decide what to do with it. But in writing, I will say something like “we can go a bit Gothic in this section, a bit more fantasy here.” There is, quite famously, an homage to anime beach arcs in Demon in White, for example. That kind of off-the-wall section is, I think, the result of thinking of these things more in terms of color than a label. I hope that makes sense. By not thinking in genre-as-box terms, I hope I’m freer to make the right decision for the story and the characters, rather than the right choice for the market or my readers’ expectations. 

[GdM] What are you reading right now?

[CR] I am not, at the moment, reading anything. I was asked to jump right into my next project, and so I am outlining that and reading the odd piece on Wikipedia or JSTOR to support my scheming… but the truth is that it is very rare for me to read fiction for pleasure anymore. I don’t keep up with the industry at all. I don’t want to. Maybe that sounds bad—I don’t mean it to. But I worked for Baen Books for 7 years, and in that time all I did was read titles for work, and that kind of turned the reading of fiction into work, and it’s been hard for me to recover. I read a lot of nonfiction—mostly primary sources at the moment. Greek and Roman literature. (Is that a clue?) Most of my engagement with fiction is through other media. I watched Twin Peaks in its entirety earlier this year, and I am excited to play Hollow Knight Silksong in a couple days, as I write this. 

[GdM] If you could go back in time to the day when the first draft of Empire of Silence was finished and give yourself one piece of advice, what would it be?

[CR] Empire of Silence is the only book that I wrote without an outline, and I think the structure suffers for that reason. I would go back in time with the outlines for the subsequent books (and show baby-me how it’s done). I am basically the Saint Paul of outlines. I cannot preach their goodness loudly or often enough. I cannot imagine writing without outlining first. I have no idea how I did it on Empire, and I sincerely hope I never try to write without an outline ever again. 

Author Christopher Ruocchio

[GdM] Most authors have a graveyard of incomplete manuscripts and false starts before they pen their first full novel. Is this true for you, and if so, what was the first book you ever tried to write? 

[CR] Yes, that was true for me, too—although I have a slight advantage over other writers in that I started that process when I was eight years old, and so got most of my false starts and garbage out the way early. I did finish what is probably a novella in middle school—one which interestingly is best preserved in my Adaman sword-and-sorcery stories. That setting is sort of a very adult glow-up of that earlier concept. But at the time it was all part of the write-delete-write again churn that eventually spat out The Murdered Sun, which is the (much shorter) original version of Empire of Silence I sold to DAW in 2016. Empire of Silence is the result of extensive revision to The Murdered Sun under my first editor. In a sense (because of the fact that it’s the only book that I wrote before I adopted my outlining method—I developed my current system for Howling Dark), I almost consider Empire my last amateur work, meaning I wrote it as not-a-professional. I’m still very proud of it, but it was the product of a very different Christopher. 

[GdM] Other than writing, what fills your time?

[CR] I have two daughters, the elder of which is 2. I spend most of my time with them, or with my lovely wife. (This is why most of my reading is not grown-up fantasy literature). I spend a lot of time chasing the older girl around the house or around the block. I also do all the cookery for our family, which takes up a good measure of my time. Beyond that, I manage to make a little time for myself. A couple times a week, I do a boxing class. I did fencing as a kid, and the guy who taught my fencing classes in middle and high school also coaches professional boxers, and now coaches me as well. I had been doing that a lot before the pandemic, and I stopped for almost 5 years, so I am trying to get back into that after so long. 

I am also very fond of video games, though I play them a lot less than I would like to—left to my own devices. As I mentioned, I am eagerly awaiting the new Hollow Knight game, and I have a small reputation as a far of Dark Souls and Elden Ring. (I feel the need to say that I got on that bandwagon with the original Dark Souls way back in 2011, my college roommate having been a giant fan of the original Demon’s Souls. But I grew up a Nintendo fan, and remain very fond of Super Mario and The Legend of Zelda (despite my general frustration with the last 3 Zelda titles). This year I have spent the most time playing Elden Ring Nightreign (I am a pretty decent Ironeye player, before anyone asks). But I only really get to play games a couple nights a week. 

The truth is that I spend most of my time working, if I’m not with my girls. My wife and I are hard at work trying to turn our little company, Highmatter Books, into a viable business. We produce our own special editions of my work, and also manage my novellas and short fiction publication. 

[GdM] That about does it! Thank you again for doing this interview, it was a real honor for me as a massive fan of the Sun Eater series and I’m excited not only for Shadows Upon Time, but for whatever you do next. Before we part, any last messages for the readers of this interview? Tell them where to buy your books, warn them to watch their backs if they don’t pick up Sun Eater, give a cryptic/melodramatic speech in the vein of Hadrian?

[CR] Well, Shadows Upon Time is out on November the 18th, and is available wherever books are sold. You can order signed copies from my local independent bookstore at quailridgebooks.com—just fill out the comment section during checkout saying that you’d like your copy signed! If you’re willing to come see me in Raleigh, we are hosting a special book release gala event to celebrate the end of the series on November 15. We’ve got a couple hundred people coming already, but there may still be seats available by the time this article comes out. It’s a little more than a book signing, a little less than a convention. You can find tickets for that at highmatterbooks.com.

Thanks again!

Read Shadows Upon Time by Christopher Ruocchio

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This interview with Christopher Ruocchio first appears in Grimdark Magazine #44

The post INTERVIEW: with author Christopher Ruocchio appeared first on Grimdark Magazine.

The Empire of the Wolf Revisited: The Swan Deep Dive

When The Justice of Kings, the first volume in Richard Swan’s “Empire of the Wolf” trilogy, was first announced in the heady (specifically, masky) pandemic era of 2021, it sent a thrill throughout the fantasy reading world. On the one hand, it felt a little counter-cyclical, coming at a time when the fantasy publishing world was exploring new non-European milieus. But this seemed no run-of-your-mill medieval fantasy, for two main reasons.

First, it promised to be a legal fantasy. Politics in fantasy? De rigueur. But one focused around jurisprudence? Interesting. The cover for The Justice of Kings declared “no man is above the law”—a statement that would turn out to be as mischievously misleading as a doctor with a six-inch syringe promising “this won’t hurt a bit”. But it showed that this would be a series where the law was itself a character. For we were concerned with the Sovan Empire, an empire that a short generation ago had conquered most of the surrounding continent and its sovereign nations in a bloody series of battles. Rather than the usual Anglocentric medieval focus, the Sovans are inspired by real Central European history—Prussians, Teutons, the Holy Roman Empire, as well as Slavic influences. But its most unique feature is its extremely advanced legal model, a common law system where everyone is supposed to be equal (including, in many respects at least, women) and that is so modern in some ways that it puts the Victorians to shame. Though the main plot of the series concerns a dangerous plot from within the Empire—involving a mix of religious extremists and political enemies who wish to take over, and whether the Empire will survive this—the theme of the series could well be argued to be whether this proud legal system can survive extreme challenges to its ideals, and, perhaps, whether it was ever ideal in the first place.

As for the second reason people were excited about Swan’s debut? Well that’s also obvious from the front cover of The Justice of Kings, which depicts, thanks to the excellent cover art of Martina Fačková, the series principal protagonist, Sir Konrad Vonvalt, the Emperor’s Justice: a policeman, lawyer, and magician rolled into one, or in other words a magic-using Judge Dredd, empowered to be judge, jury, and executioner. On that cover he looks ominous, awe-inspiring, unimpeachable, a sword in his lap sat in front of a statute of the scales of justice; the law and the force to use it all in one. As the trilogy goes on we as readers are forced to question this initial impression, and it’s this great character study, along with the legal questions I mentioned earlier, that, I would suggest, have given the Empire of the Wolf a strong critical legacy, and one of enormous popularity, ensuring a follow-up trilogy in the same world set two hundred years later and, from the very people in whose august magazine these words appear, a prequel novella The Scour. It’s also bloody good fun and rather well written, which helps I suppose.

In this unapologetically nerdy article, I examine, in a non-spoiler fashion for those new to the Swanverse (well non-spoiler of plot at least), some of the key themes of the original trilogy, keeping the focus on things which readers new and old to the series will see pop up in The Scour. As you will see, if there is a legacy of this first trilogy, it is, perhaps, that you can talk about it for fucking ages.

Sir Konrad Vonvalt: The Man, The Myth, The Legend

The best place to begin when examining why the Emperor’s Justice and man most likely more handsome than you has already entered the fantasy hall of fame is to look at Swan’s stated influences for the character. First there’s Shardlake, the Tudor lawyer from C J Sansom’s historical mystery series. Like Shardlake, Vonvalt, at least our first impressions of him, is an honest, incorruptible pursuer of justice, and a clever investigator. He’s also, like another stated influence Ned Stark, one of the best swordsmen in the land, and Vonvalt’s naivety can be seen in Book 2 of the trilogy (The Tyranny of Faith) when, just like Ned in King’s Landing, Vonvalt arrives in the Sovan capital unprepared for the nest of vipers he finds. Then there’s Geralt of Rivia, better known as The Witcher. Just like Geralt, Vonvalt is in possession of some terrifying magical powers; specifically, he can command a person to tell the truth, with frequently deleterious effects on their health. And he can communicate with the dead, which leads to some deleterious effects on everyone’s health. And, just like Geralt, Vonvalt is a bit of a lady’s man, his justice in the streets, as we see in The Scour, not precluding him from some justice in the sheets, too.

But for the true seeds of the path of Vonvalt’s character we must turn to Gregor Eisenhorn, an investigator from the Warhammer 40k universe, that place you and/or your partner spends all your money. At first when we meet him, Eisenhorn is dogged, determined, devoted, and ultra professional. Then, over his stories, he becomes less rigid and more inclined to bend the rules and laws of the Imperium to destroy its threats. In Swan’s trilogy, unlike the Eisenhorn Warhammer books, we see Vonvalt’s path of bending his own rules from the perspective of not him but his young orphan Justice protégé Helena, who is only twenty by the trilogy’s close (and deserves her own section but Vonvalt is my focus here, apologies Helena stans). As we watch Vonvalt bend or arguably break his own laws to save the Empire, we see Helena’s disillusionment, heartbreak, and sometimes understanding.

Helena, who eventually comes to understands Vonvalt better than he will ever understand himself, is also responsible for maybe the best summary of the man ever, noting at one point that:

“he was often overconfident in people’s ability to accept what he considered to be objective and inescapable logic.”

In other words, if only everyone was as clever as him.

But is Vonvalt right in his actions, or is he an arrogant hypocrite? Or is the answer more complicated? For more answers on this, we have to turn back to the central theme of the trilogy: the law.

The Law is an Ass

In the prologue at the start of The Trials of Empire (Book 3)—no real spoilers, calm down—we see a flashback of the early days of Vonvalt and Helena. A murderer is set to be executed, and Vonvalt is filling out forms; when Helena asks what the point is and why he wasn’t just killed immediately, Vonvalt explains why, without waiting for all the potentially mitigating facts, that wouldn’t be justice, noting:

“Procedure seems tedious, and dry, and pointless. But it exists for a reason. Especially when we are dealing with life and death, it is all the more important.”

It’s a scene that could have been positioned at the start of Book 1, as a primer for why the law is important, why Vonvalt sticks to it, and why its precedence in Sova might, maybe, justify the immense bloodshed that preceded the Empire’s expansion (it’s also an argument that crops up again in The Scour). But, cleverly, Swan has put it here, a prologue to the final book in the trilogy. Immediately after, when we are thrown back into the events of Book 3, we see Vonvalt doing a lot of controversial things that seem to contradict everything we’ve just been told. And he’s challenged on it. In his response, he says, among other things:

“Sometimes we must act outside the bounds of the law to safeguard it. Claver [main antagonist] breaks the law to see that it remains broken. I break it only that it may be saved.”

Uh… what now? Seems like our hero has a case of the hypocrisies? Well, yes and no, and maybe both, and therein lies the rub of much of the trilogy. To make the case for and against Vonvalt, and the law itself, we need to understand two things here.

The first is deontological ethics versus consequentialism, a debate which ex-barrister Swan is clearly enamoured with as examples of it are dotted throughout this trilogy more frequently than hundreds and thousands in an ice cream factory. Simply and crudely put, consequentialism focuses on judging the moral worth of the results of actions only, whereas deontological ethics focuses on the moral worth of the actions themselves. Or even more simply and unhelpfully crudely, it’s okay to kill ten people to save a thousand… or alternatively it’s very much not okay.

Right then. So Vonvalt begins a deontologist and when things get dicey, suddenly he’s Captain Consequentialist? Not helpful. Anything else? Yes, there is, as Vonvalt helpfully clues us in a little later:

“I serve the natural law. Natural justice. If that means I have to operate outside the niceties of the common law, then so be it.”

Interesting… natural law is the idea that there are universal moral principles that form the basis of all just positive laws. Ingredients that the law takes from, but that still matter even regardless of the cake. The overall goal of both kinds of law? Justice. So when the common law can’t help him, Vonvalt is helping himself to a tasty slice of natural justice.

Does that make sense? Or is Vonvalt a desperate man in unimaginable circumstances trying to square a circle that can’t be squared, like an insane geometer? Maybe the answer lies in Vonvalt’s secret past. Because back in the second book, The Tyranny of Faith, we are privy to a brief conversation, barely remarked upon again, that completely changes everything we ever thought about the character, and suggests he’s not the upstanding paragon of justice we believed. Does that make him a hypocrite? Or does it mean that there are other moral principles we answer to as well? Good luck working that one out.

The Empire Strikes First

In The Scour, Vonvalt and his taskmaster Dubine visit the dying port town of Gdansburg on the edges of the conquered continental empire. The people here hate the Sovans, and it’s hard to say they’ve done much for them in this depressing windswept corner of the world. As one fellow justice (his rational voice and erstwhile lover Lady August) notes to Vonvalt:

“These places, these people, they hate us. We are walking, breathing embodiments of the nation state. Of Sova. These people are our subjugates in every way that matters. We may as well have personally taken Gdansburg from them.”

Here we have the rub of all colonial questions, to paraphrase that famous Monty Python sketch: just what have the Sovans done for us? Well, there’s that legal system we just did a deep dive into. Is that worth it? Characters are constantly challenging Vonvalt throughout the trilogy to justify the Empire’s bloody conquest. Just like The British Empire and legions of empire before it, all conquering entities tell themselves that the bloodshed of conquering is worth it given the peace that follows. If a million people are killed in war but countless millions more are saved through peace and unity and medicine and law and reliable food supplies, is the Empire morally worthy? Again, that goes back to our old question of consequentialism versus deontology. Or as one character puts it to Vonvalt in Book 3, The Trials of Empire, as he tries to defend the bloody battles that preceded the Empire’s expansion:

“There is peace, and there is justice, and that is not the same thing. While the Empire has brought peace, where is the justice for those who died to bring it about?”

Ultimately this is a point Vonvalt never truly gets beyond, and as a man whose title is Justice, its carrion cry lingers long after the events of the trilogy have concluded.

And one more point while we’re on things empire: this is a trilogy not just concerned with whether empires can justify themselves, but how they collapse. In Book 2, when Vonvalt ventures to the capital to sound the alarm about the conspiracy to bring it down, we get a glimpse into the workings of how an empire is weakened from within. In the debating chamber, partisan operators flout convention and launch false attacks, while outside elite factions manipulate the system to sow division and bring the system down from within. Sound familiar? The Empire of the Wolf is partly about how complacent liberal systems whose old conventions are lapsing into irrelevance can be manipulated by extremist forces, and if you want to see parallels with modern day America, Britain, Europe etc, then they are there for you. Swan is smart enough not to make this explicit (he knows that the subtext is the strategy) but as every year goes by, the lessons of his work become more apparent. 2025 feels like the year when much of the West is collapsing in on itself, and if you want to understand why, you could do worse than read a bit of fantasy.

Dubine: The Man Every Man NeedsInsta: @hannahelizabetharts

The Scour is, among many other things, a testament to the odd couple friendship of Vonvalt and Dubine Bressinger. Bressinger is Vonvalt’s taskman, his do-it-all handyman, and in the trilogy itself he provides an important counterweight to the, respectively, naive idealism and pompous arrogance of Helena and Vonvalt. A former soldier with a tragic past, Bressinger is loyal and strong, dour yet also frequently hilarious. As Helena notes at one point in Book 3,

“[Bressinger could be] surly and withdrawn, though his moods were often a foil to those around him. When Vonvalt was quiet, Bressinger would sing; when Vonvalt was dour, Bressinger was garrulous… Bressinger could be irrepressible.”

He also adds an intriguing argument to the debates about law I examined earlier. Dubine represents Vonvalt’s aggressive, soldier side distinct from his lawyerly studious side, and it takes Helena a good while to realise that Vonvalt is closer to Bressinger’s character than she ever realised. The two men’s friendship has been cemented by serious violent deeds in their past, the kind of friendship forged in fire that transcends many of Vonvalt’s erstwhile beliefs and, Swan suggests, transcends the values of the law, too. In many ways Dubine operates as a foil to Helena’s mistaken belief that Vonvalt was ever a paragon of anything, but given that she loves Dubine too, is that necessarily a bad thing?

The Horrors that Wait for Us All

Lastly, no pretentious analysis of The Empire of the Wolf would be complete without a look at the horrors contained within. In Swan’s world there is an afterlife, in the loosest sense of the term, and contained within are utter horrors beyond the whit of man in the best tradition of eldritch and cosmic horror. In the first book The Justice of Kings, these horrors are more of an icing on the cake, a layer of extra necromantic spookiness of the kind often found in fantasy. Vonvalt can communicate with the dead, and he tells Helena of the strange entities there to whom humans are mere insects, and of the dark magics that come from the afterlife, the possession of which by various players in the Empire is a major plot point in the series. And in The Scour, the horror that appears there is almost more reminiscent of a Victorian ghost story, though readers of the series will notice some callbacks to the more complex horrors of the series.

But, in Book 2, The Tyranny of Faith, and even more so in Book 3 The Trials of Empire, Swan goes gonzo horror and dials the cosmic horror up to eleven, not so much This is Spinal Tap as this is my spine being ripped out by a demon tap-dancing on my soul. It feels a purposeful move, and as well as bringing an extra dimension (literally) to the plot, as the politics and physics and rules of the afterlife become just as meaningful as what’s happening in the current life, it allows Swan to examine some of the deep issues of cosmic horror, one of the key tenets of which is the idea that we cannot comprehend the realities of the dimensions beyond ours, and the figures that comprise it, and to do so would be to drive us mad. And indeed, time and time again when we encounter these places and figures in the trilogy, there is very little comprehension and the characters involved spend the aftermath in stunned silence, fighting madness.

Another key tenet is the idea that if the worlds beyond ours are not what we thought, how do we live our lives knowing this? Does it make us better or worse people, knowing we fight not for our place in heaven but simply for our actions on the ground? One character expresses her fear as follows:

“Do you know what my greatest fear is? That the afterlife is not some… bifurcated place where the good ascend to heaven and the evil descend to hell. But that it is just… random. A place of chaos, where the soul travels not for any reason, but for an absence of reason. A place where we go not as a reflection of who we were as people, but a place where we go as an end in itself. I should think nothing at all would be preferable. Can you imagine it?”

Swan makes his characters imagine it and, brutally but necessarily, leaves them to deal with it as best they may.

So there we have it

There’s plenty more that can be said about Swan’s Sovan-based works, and as he continues to plough intellectually terrifying, entertainingly intellectual and terrifyingly entertaining tales in successive connected trilogies there no doubt will be, but for now we can enjoy the return of the Emperor’s Justice in the Grimdark Magazine novella The Scour while being relieved that somewhere, sometime, is a very angry and probably correct Justice bellowing the law at someone so we don’t have to.

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REVIEW: Black Myth: Wukong

In August of 2020, Game Science showed off a gameplay trailer for Black Myth: Wukong, a Chinese-developed action RPG retelling Journey to the West. Based on the demo and its style, the game was widely reported to be a Chinese mythology soulslike, the first yet announced. Also, just naming it Black Myth, evokes a certain a grimdark atmosphere, setting expectations high.

Mythology. Dark fantasy. Gorgeous graphics. Soulslike gameplay.

Yes, please.

The game underwent a somewhat troubled development cycle, with numerous delays and some controversy involving the working environment. Nevertheless, it was released in August of 2024, four years after the initial reveal. Gamers immediately began speaking of “game of the year” potential, praising its fluid combat and exciting level design. It’s called the first ever Chinese AAA video game. It sold so well, Game Science is now working on others in the Black Myth series.

But was it everything I had hoped for? In short, not really. It has all the components of a title I should have absolutely loved, yet somehow it wound up feeling underwhelming, like it never managed to be more than the sum of its parts.

Story-wise, it’s plainly a love letter to Journey to the West, the most famous novel of Chinese mythology, which recounts the story of Sun Wukong. The story was published in English as Monkey: A Folk Tale of China, translated by Arthur Waley, and is definitely worth reading for mythology buffs. It recounts the tale of a prideful monkey born of a stone, who becomes the king of all monkeys. This isn’t enough for him, and he winds up challenging the gods of Heaven. Eventually, he’s humbled by the Buddha, and as penance, sent to help a monk retrieve the sutras from India in the far West. It’s a story with tons of monsters, wild action, crazy magic, and vibrant characters (most famously Pigsy, a major character in the game, as well).

The game is kind of a sequel/reimagining of the latter bit of this story. For rising against heaven, Wukong is killed in the prologue by the gods. Five hundred years later, another monkey begins a journey to recollect the relics of Wukong, though his reasons for doing so remain somewhat murky. Indeed, the whole tale is a bit ambiguous. There’s lots of colourful characters, most of whom are not thoroughly explained by the game, and I wonder how much sense any of this would make to someone not familiar with the original story. The developers took for granted the audience would have that familiarity, which is a questionable choice for something pitched to be such a global product.

As far as the moniker “black myth”, I don’t really think the title earned it. Sure, there was some treachery and trickery, betrayals and violence. And yes, Wukong himself was no traditional hero, and so, presumably, neither is the protagonist monkey following in his footsteps. Yet if I was to compare it to another mythology-based PS game series, God of War (the new ones), I would say BMW fails to live up to the weighty themes or gravitas of either the story or the characters.

Regarding the graphics, they are indeed beautiful. The game is filled with lush, diverse environments, from jungles to deserts to snowy mountains. There’s the haunted Pagoda Realm, the Flaming Mountains, and ruins aplenty. All of these levels are lovingly designed, with an eye toward the beauty of China and its epic vistas.

But, of course, this is a game, and thus gameplay becomes the real crutch of whether a game succeeds. First off, to clarify, I would not call Black Myth: Wukong a soulslike. It has the punishing difficulty and is an action RPG, but it lacks certain key mechanics I think are inherent to the genre. You don’t lose souls on death, nor need to reach a bloodstain (or whatever) to save those souls, eliminating a sense of risk and tension common to those games. Shrines kind of work like bonfires, but because there’s no real consequence for death, again, these serve more as checkpoints than safety hubs. Most soulslikes also allow a much greater degree of grinding and stat customisation. You can level up in BMW, but only along certain skill trees, many of which cap early. Which is to say, if you get stuck on a boss, you cannot always just grind out a bit more health/damage/whatever to overcome it. This particular ARPG aspect also reminded me more of God of War, which allows advancement, but nowhere near on the scale of say, Dark Souls.

I love soulslikes, but I enjoy ARPGs in general, so not being a soulslike would not have spoiled things for me. But I did find some design choices led often to more frustration than I recall facing in many others such games. Namely, the game often pits you against extremely difficult bosses that require you to totally rethink, relearn, maybe even respec, as one expects in a soulslike … but BMW may turn around and do it again five minutes later. There were periods in the game where I felt stuck, worked hard to get past a point, and immediately got stuck again, with very little time to explore, test out a new build, or feel powerful.

Now when the game works, it can feel brilliant. Combat is, as stated, enormously fast and fluid, relying on graceful dodges and crazy moves. I can absolutely see why some loved Black Myth: Wukong… yet, in the end for me, I found it just pretty good. Looking back after playing through enough to get the Platinum, I found I have a few fond memories, but my overall impression was that I had wanted more from this one.

Play Black Myth: Wukong

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REVIEW: Lies Weeping by Glen Cook

A new Black Company novel in 2025? You read that right: Glen Cook returns to his pioneering grimdark epic fantasy series with Lies Weeping, the tenth mainline novel in Chronicles of the Black Company. As the first book in an all-new arc called A Pitiless Rain, Lies Weeping also serves as an ideal entry point for readers new to Cook’s mesmerizingly dark world.

Lies Weeping is told from the alternating perspectives of two young women, Arkana and Shukrat Voroshk, orphaned cousins who have been selected as the new Annalists of the Black Company. Although their work as Annalists serves as official historical record, with their informal and often playful writing, Arkana and Shukrat’s logs are more akin to personal diaries.

Glen Cook struck storytelling gold with this dual narrator approach. Rather than simply telling the story directly, Arkana and Shukrat use their journal entries to poke fun at each other, providing a surprisingly lighthearted narrative style to this series famous for pioneering the grimdark aesthetic.

Lies Weeping shines in its nuanced character work, especially in the relationship between the two cousins and the interactions with their friends, Dikken and Tobo. Arkana and Shukrat’s origin story is shrouded in mystery, but that’s only the tip of the iceberg of secrets that will be revealed. The girls were adopted by Croaker, a mortal man on an ascent toward godlike status. Another standout figure is known simply as the Lady, whose history and motivations are among the most enigmatic of the novel.

The Black Company itself has experienced many ups and downs throughout its long history. The elite group of mercenaries shrank to as few as seven members before rebounding into the thousands. At the time of Lies Weeping, the Black Company finds itself in a lull and at a crossroads, returning to their erstwhile home of Hsien in the Land of Unknown Shadows.

Plotwise, Lies Weeping is a slow and rather meandering read, without much action until the final part of the novel. Despite the lack of action, the punchy narration from Arkana and Shukrat made Lies Weeping a fun read and kept me fully engaged throughout the novel, with a cliffhanger ending that left me craving the next book of A Pitiless Rain.

Altogether, Lies Weeping is a very welcome return of Glen Cook to the Chronicles of the Black Company, one of the pioneering series of grimdark fantasy. I am eager to find out what happens next with Arakan, Shukrat, and others in A Pitiless Rain, this newest arc of the series.

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This review first appears in Grimdark Magazine Issue #44

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REVIEW: Alan Wake II

Alan Wake II is the long awaited, and I mean like thirteen years, sequel to the 2010 action-adventure horror game, Alan Wake. It was originally followed by Alan Wake’s American Nightmare, but that Xbox Live exclusive was a scaled back version of the sequel that Remedy Entertainment never thought they’d be able to make. Still, after the success of Control, they got a chance to finally make the sequel to Alan Wake that they always wanted to. So, is Alan Wake II any good? 

It is very good, but it is also very different. This is something that a lot of people care about when it comes to their sequels. Alan Wake was an unconventional third person horror shooter. This is a survival horror detective novel. There is shooting in it, but there is far less shooting in it. Indeed, the first shooting doesn’t take place until the very end of the second chapter of the story and then there is an even longer wait to get to more of it.

The premise is that Saga Anderson, an FBI agent, is invited to Bright Falls alongside her partner, Alex Casey. Alex, for fans of the Alan Wake novels, is a substitute for Max Payne that is legally distinct from the one owned by Rockstar Games. In-universe, the Alex Casey novels and movies by the in-universe Alan Wake are an annoyance for the “real” Casey who finds it strange that he shares a name as well as likeness with the character. The pair are investigating a recent ritual murder by a bunch of deer mask-wearing psychos that turn out to have a connection to the strange happenings in the town.

Without getting too deep into spoiler territory, what Saga and Alex find is tied to what Alan Wake has been up to for the past thirteen years in the Dark Place beneath Cauldron Lake. The game is tied with the Federal Bureau of Control from Control and makes more than a few references to the Quantum Break game despite not owning the rights to that IP either. It is a strange multilayered metatextual journal that is more detective game than shooter.

I really like Saga as the protagonist and her friendship with Alex Casey is one of the better realized ones that invokes the best of Mulder and Scully before they got ruined by the shippers. I would watch a TV show based around these two. I also love the addition of the Koskela brothers, who are a fantastic bit of rural life brought into Bright Falls. You can tell when comic relief is good in a horror game by the fact you want more of them not less. Old favorites like Rose Marigold and Pat Maine also make an appearance.

The game doesn’t 100% explain what is going on with all the occult shenanigans but does give some concrete answers that David Lynch never would with his works. There’s also some retcons that don’t precisely work with the original Alan Wake or American Nightmare, but I doubt anyone, but the most diehard fans will have problems with. The storytelling is deep and open to interpretation with a lot of focus on narrative, psychological projection, and symbolism. There’s even a twenty-minute supernatural thriller you can watch in a theater toward the end. Plus, two music video-inspired action scenes that are truly awesome.

Gameplaywise the secret sauce of Alan Wake 2 is that it is genuinely tense and frightening for the first playthrough. It’s much closer to Silent Hill than Resident Evil 2 and Alan’s previous badassery is no longer on display here as both protagonists are painfully slow individuals with limited health. Even so, long parts of the game are without any sort of enemy and that just leaves you on the edge of your seat. I think a lot of games could learn from this as the primary flaw of Silent Hill: Downpour and The Evil Within was that it showed their hand within the first few minutes.

Much of the gameplay for Saga is finding clues and puzzles scattered across the map then proceeding to put them up in your “Mind Place” board that is straight from Sherlock Holmes. Honestly, some of it is tedious busy work and I wish it had been cut down to about a third of its size. 

In conclusion, Alan Wake II is a fantastic game, and it ends in a way that feels like it is a definitive one to Alan’s saga (no pun intended) but that could easily be continued in an Alan Wake 3. Tragically, the voice actor for Alex Casey, James McCaffrey, has passed on. This sadly will probably affect not only Alan Wake 3 but also any future Max Payne projects. Still, I think even if you didn’t play the original Alan Wake, you’ll enjoy this if you enjoy survival horror. There are some frustrating bits like the detective board interface and combat, but I think the game is awesome for its storytelling as well as music.

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