Adrian Collins's Blog, page 69

REVIEW: Curious Tides by Pascale Lacelle

If you’re like me and love books (almost) as much as physical objects than you do as stories, Curious Tides by Pascale Lacelle should be on your to-buy list. A dark academia story about class, arrogance and magic waits for you within the pages. On the outside, it is one of the prettiest books on the market. Its astrological themes influence the design, and decorations adorn the pages, drawing you deeper into the story. In that regard, it’s picking up much of what makes dark academia stand out, and combining it with a celestial aesthetic that is a trend in its own right.

At Aldryn College of Lunar Magics, students are divided into houses based on the phases of the moon – and then, there are the Eclipse-born, powerful but often outcast. Emery is a healer, member of house New Moon at Aldryn. Or at least, that’s what her mother told her father before disappearing. She’s reserved and often feels inadequate in the company of her wealthy peers. She’s always relied on her friend Romie to be her social catalyst, to make sure she’s included. But Romie’s dead, along with seven of Aldryn’s best and brightest. Emery is convinced she can find out what really happened – no matter what it costs her. Soon she’s embroiled in secret societies, deception and powerful but forbidden magic.

Curious Tides has many strengths. Characters come alive and none of them can truly be perceived as good. Lies, whether from good intentions or malicious ones, dominate the story. It was refreshing to see Emery be nothing special. This evolves over the course of the story, of course – she does have to go from “ordinary girl” to “main character” after all. But she starts out struggling, is often called out when she misses the mark. Because she’s always been next to someone people consider special, she never considered whether she may not be quite as mediocre as she’s believed. I loved seeing her evolution, gaining confidence and power. Obsessed with her mission, Emery lies and cheats, considering her aims more important than the rules – and perhaps even other people. But, she’s not the only interesting character. I loved bookish Baz especially, dealing with a complicated past and trauma. Romance is not central to the story, as Curious Tides puts the focus on character development for their own sakes.

I did feel like the magic system could have been more developed. It is more vibes than facts, loosely inspired by the phases of the moon. And it does work – as long as you don’t question it. It compliments the story and at times works as a bit of a deus ex machina. The reader, however, who pays attention will soon notice that it doesn’t continue past the basics needed to tell this particular story. Question don’t lead to answers, and I felt that I did not get a sense of how magic influences the society at large, how it functions on a more theoretical level.

As a whole, Curious Tides was a lovely and captivating read. An ambitious debut, promising much more to come. I look forward to reading more in this world, and would especially recommend Curious Tides to fans of A Study in Drowning.

Read Curious Tides by Pascale Lacelle

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Guest Post: At the heart of the deep, dark wood: why do forests still terrify us? by Caroline Hardaker

When was the last time you walked in the deep, dark wood? What did you see? What did you feel?

And would you walk the same path at night?

Across the spectrum of horror, fantasy, and speculative fiction, a wide range of stories, settings, and characters have the power to scare, perturb, and unnerve us. But ultimately, they all share one common understanding, exploited to make the hairs prick on the back of our necks:

We are all afraid of things and people we don’t understand.

Tales set in forests and woodlands follow us through every age, and provoke their own particular brand of fear. Here, it’s often what we can’t see that scares us the most, and inspires our imaginations to fill in the blanks in the darkness. The most everyday trees and shrubs become other, untrustworthy, unfamiliar, and ‘uncanny’.

In Freud’s 1919 essay, “The Uncanny,” he explores this particular type of fear as attached to everyday objects and settings that remind us of childhood, like dolls, or automata, or woodlands. He says; “Uncanny is in reality nothing new or alien, but something which is familiar and old-established in the mind and which has become alienated from it only through the process of repression.”

In Freud’s native German, ‘uncanny’ translates to ‘unheimlich’, a term with muddled meaning but which captures the strange, eerie sense of the ‘unhomely’ – that which is familiar but not as we like it to be. This is the realm within which twisted realities lie – severed limbs, inanimate objects coming to life, and the darkness at the heart of the deep, dark wood.

And while horror, fantasy, and speculative fiction are genres in their own right, the uncanny is more a style of writing, the fostering of dread and doom, a building of tension, and the unnerving sense that what was familiar is now unfamiliar.

So why are woodlands and the uncanny so often found hand-in-hand in horror and speculation stories?

From traditional fairy tales and gothic literature to modern fantasy and horror, the natural world plays a vital part in creating the uncanny atmosphere required for dark and speculative tales. But – in a time of logic and reason – why does nature still have the power to terrify us?

The ‘deep, dark wood’ is both a magical realm and a place of danger. From a very young age, fairy tales teach us that the forest is a place where unexplained forces dwell (such as Hansel and Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood, and more recently The Gruffalo), and as we grow, it’s hard to shake off the woods’ connections to an older, pre-modern world, especially when presented with an endless stream of gothic and horror stories set in the forests, such as The Blair Witch Project and The VVitch.

These stories all share the same theme: forests are the kingdoms in which we are the trespassers.

In the dark, stones have faces, and roots become grasping fingers. The unhuman becomes the inhuman, the almost human. Forests are teeming with the inanimate but living. Trees don’t move yet they grow, their insides wriggling with insect life. And as the branches block out the sun, how can we tell what’s watching us, planning its next move?

Forests are worlds beyond our world; ageless and ancient. Old age comes with wisdom, cunning, and the ability to outwit us at every turn, and from a threat of the ‘old ways’, we see uncanny seeping straight into folk horror territory, teeming with the dark magic, pagan symbols, and inhuman rituals we see in films such as Midsommer and The Wicker Man.

In the forest, we are a species apart. We are the outnumbered, the alien, and – in comparison to the trees – outsized. Even compared to the animals there, we are slow, clumsy, our mouths filled with bluntest teeth. It’s the humanesque ability to outfox us, coupled with the inhuman creatures of the natural world which contributes to the sense of uncanny.

Forest folk tales and myths are flooded with uncanny creatures – anthropomorphic personifications of wood, water, and earth. Naiads are walking water, while faeries – particularly of the Brian Froud variety – are flying twigs, eyes popping from whorls in wood. His designs for the forests of Thra in the Dark Crystal universe give life to creatures such as gelflings, landstriders, and podlings; all of which inhabit a space between human and animal, the space where we are unnerved by the confusion that comes with an inability to understand these creatures’ origins.

In my latest novel, Mothtown, half the book follows a man as he crashes through the wilderness in search of a door in a mountain. This story is juxtaposed by David’s origin story, which follows him from childhood to adulthood in a rural town. While the novel’s settings are grounded and relatable in their real-world physicality and detail, an unnerving sense of the uncanny looms over the story through the wilderness landscape. A pair of shadows stalking our protagonists, piles of oddly shaped bones left on a doorstep, birds with necks tied in knots, and a face moulded into the rock of the mountain all contribute to a growing sense of a living land which is more than the sum of its parts. The earth and the turf become the flesh and muscles of a creature which could turn or snap at any moment.

From speculative fiction such as Mothtown to modern filmmaking, the uncanny continues to perturb us, taking us back to the twisted fairy tales of our childhoods. As long as we’re able to remember and relate to our childhood memories, we will be haunted by the sense that these objects, places, and stories can become twisted, shrinking us until we feel small, powerless, and lost. Though we live in an age of reason, the uncanny still has the ability to squat amongst the familiar and smirk. It possesses the everyday objects in our home and gives them life, just as it transforms the forest into a domain of inhumanity. Eyes everywhere. Secrets hidden under roots. Populated by creatures born from wood and stone.

So next time you’re in the forest, stop. Take a quiet breath and look around. You might just see something moving that shouldn’t.

Read Mothtown by Caroline Hardaker

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REVIEW: Old Moon Quarterly – Vol. 5

Old Moon Quarterly has returned with its third installment of the year. Like previous issues, OMQ serves up an intriguing mix of grimdark and weird sword & sorcery fiction. Vol. 5 cover artist Derek Moore delivers the magazine’s most striking cover artwork to date: a skeleton in full plate harness equipped with a bec de corbin polearm. There are no interior illustrations or advertisements in this 89-page issue, and the text is presented in a single column layout.

After a brief Introduction expressing a desire to see more cerebral sword & sorcery tales in the vein of Robert E. Howard’s King Kull of Atlantis (as opposed to the more direct action yarns featuring Conan and his ilk), the issue opens with “Together Under the Wing,” by Jonathan Olfert. A Stone Age revenge tale with a twist, this story involves a young warrior driven to avenge the murder of his mother, the matriarch of their people. The wrinkle is that the protagonist, Walks-like-a-Rockslide, is a sentient mammoth with bladed tusks and his foe is the king of the giants. Appropriately, given the stature of these clashing titans, the struggle that follows is imbued with a palpable sense of momentum and inevitability. Mammoth and Giant King circle, close, and deal grievous wounds to each other. While the events of the narrative are straightforward, the unusual hero and heavy atmosphere of finality make this story stand out.

K.H. Vaughan’s “Champions Against the Maggot King” is another story that focuses on conjuring a very specific mood. The narrator, Grath, is a grunt in an imperial army locked in a desperate war against the monstrous hordes of the titular Maggot King. The story is presented as a series of vignettes showcasing both the formidable odds the soldiers are facing and the handful of elite heroes who may just be able to turn the tide. Sorrow Mai is a warrior woman with a massive axe and a “leather cuirass boiled in blood.” Ilhar, also called “The Raven,” is an untouchable elven duelist with a darkly poetic heart. Ko-Mon the Heartless is a scarred dwarf who wields an enchanted war chain that is powered by his pain. All these characters are anime levels of over-the-top and portrayed in a worshipful tone by Grath. Their enemies are likewise epic, especially the decomposing dragon that drips clumps of rotting flesh as it strafes the beleaguered troops below. There’s much in this story that’s excessive and even perhaps silly, but Vaughan absolutely sells it with a straight face. “Champions Against the Maggot King” is a grimdark treat that should appeal to fans of the Berserk and Bastard!! -Heavy Metal, Dark Fantasy- anime series as well as enthusiasts of The Black Company and The Malazan Book of the Fallen.

In a first for Old Moon Quarterly, issue 5 includes two poems: “The King’s Two Bodies” by Joe Koch, and Zachary Bos’ “A Warning Agaynste Woldes.” “The King’s Two Bodies” is vividly lyrical, if perhaps a bit opaque. “A Warning Agaynste Woldes,” however, was peppered with Old English and tedious to decipher. The poetry didn’t add much to this issue, in this reviewer’s opinion, but I would not be opposed to seeing more verse in the future.

“The Origin of Boghounds,” by Amelia Gorman, is another grimdark entry. Boghounds are dog-like creatures of unknown pedigree. When a bounty hunter named Samphire discovers Hum, the boghound companion of her mountebank target, she decides to use the boghound to track down its master. The pair face stiff opposition in the form of two competing bounty hunters, however, and the situation becomes even more lethal when together they all discover the monstrous and delightfully gross progenitor of the boghounds. This story is packed to the brim with entertaining weirdness. The characters are all quirky and strange, like NPCs from the Dark Souls video games, and the world is evocatively rendered despite the story’s brevity.

David K. Henrickson’s “Well Met at the Gates of Hell” is one of the more sword & sorcery-oriented tales in this issue. A nameless man awakens on a barren plain, under a starless sky. Three figures await him: a massive paladin with a glowing sword, a small dagger-wielding man with a hateful smile, and a 12-foot-tall praying mantis. The trio wish to kill the new arrival for his past offenses and have agreed among themselves to engage him in single combat, one at a time. The story that follows is a triptych of duels shot through with witty repartee reminiscent of The Princess Bride. The protagonist—I hesitate to call him the hero, his enemies seem justified in their hatred of him—and his opponents are all vague sketches, but Henrickson makes the minimalism work. The result is a completely fat-free story that gives the reader just enough to satiate them and not an ounce further. This was the highlight of the issue for me.

“The Skulls of Ghosts,” by Charles Gramlich, is another sword & sorcery adventure. The muscular warrior Krieg journeys into a plague-ridden kingdom trying to locate the malady’s sorcerous origin. While there is a lot to like about this story, it suffered by following “Well Met at the Gates of Hell.” There’s some nicely hallucinatory prose here—the story shares many characteristics with the King Kull tales celebrated in this issue’s Introduction—but “The Skulls of Ghosts” felt long and overstuffed compared to the other stories in issue #5. There were more named characters and backstory than seemed truly necessary, and the evil sorcerer’s habit of assuming other characters’ identities was confusing. The components of a good story are present, but it would have benefited from some trimming and tightening.

“Today, I met a man I had killed before,” opens “The Headsman’s Melancholy” by Joseph Andre Thomas. Set in 14th century England, the final story of the issue is related by Jack Marvell, an executioner in the employ of King Henry IV. While he professes job satisfaction, Marvell keeps a diary to help cope with his depression, and this story consists of a series of journal entries describing his encounters with a strange knave he has beheaded on multiple occasions. Bizarre and gleefully gory, with a cryptic ending, “The Headsman’s Melancholy” is oddly compelling. A fitting conclusion to a strong issue of Old Moon Quarterly.

Unlike some more generalist fantasy fiction magazines, Old Moon Quarterly gives the sense of a very specific editorial vision. A desired vibe. Their submission guidelines call for “dark and weird sword & sorcery,” and while that’s not inaccurate, it feels like it insufficiently articulates what makes a given story Old Moon Quarterly material. With the launch of their first Kickstarter campaign, however, it seems like the editors have zeroed in on a pithy way to describe the type of fiction they showcase: “Soulsborne-inspired.” In short, if you enjoy the brutal, gothic, grimdark aesthetic of From Software’s Dark Souls and Bloodborne video games, Old Moon Quarterly curates fiction with a similar feel. Old Moon Quarterly is recommended for dark fantasy fans of all stripes, but for those yearning for that elusive Soulsborne atmosphere in particular, this is the place.

Read Old Moon Quarterly – Vol. 5

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REVIEW: Aliens: Bishop by T.R. Napper

Having loved the movies, but never read an Aliens book before, I was so excited when Australian author T.R. Napper announced the impending release of Aliens: Bishop. From his previous books, 36 Streets and Neon Leviathan I knew that Napper’s history in working in diplomacy and aid across the South East Asian region meant that his lived understanding of poverty and the politics of the Asia Pacific region surpassed almost any other cyberpunk and milSF author I know, and the idea of him applying that to the broader universe of Aliens was something I was absolutely itching to read. When that glorious hardcover arrived at my apartment, well, it was a “TBR pile be damned” moment. And I was not disappointed (mate).

In Aliens: Bishop, a direct sequel to Aliens 3, Karri has joined the marines to escape the starving poverty of Australia. She sends her pay to her family, she gets a clean bed and three meals a day, but now it’s time to do the job and go into combat. Apone is Karri’s leader, and he’s just lost marines in battle. He reviews the decisions that led to this point, but a discussion with a mercenary leads him to wonder about the honour of his role–is he an honourable leader of marines, or another pawn doing bloody deeds for Weyland-Yutani, or a grieving brother chasing vengeance no matter the cost? Bishop the synthetic is rebuilt after his death into a new, stronger, better body with a new mind. He reviews the data from his time with Ripley and the troopers on Acheron (the setting for Aliens) and starts to experience odd thoughts, thoughts that sit outside his experience as a synthetic and create more questions than answers as his creator Michael engages him and gives him something he’s not had before: choice. Vietnamese smuggler Xuan is on the first six months of a five year rotation on a smuggler’s ship packed with people from her home in Hanoi when they are stopped by a Chinese warship (an ally) for an inspection. Commander Su Wong of the Chinese warship Xinjiang is on a horrible mission, one that makes her question the loyalty of her leaders to the greater mission of the Chinese people.

Themes of memory and its importance and manipulation, of AI and it’s roles and dangers, of poverty and greed, should all be familiar to fans of Napper. He’s worked them into this story in spades. On one hand, Aliens: Bishop is an awesome, action-packed ride stacked with combat, aliens (naturally), duplicitous corporations, and espionage. If that’s all you pick up from the book, you’re going to have an awesome time smashing through this 500 page read like it’s a novella. On the other hand it’s a deep dive into themes of division, of what it would take for us all to put our learned political grievances and prejudices aside, megacorporations and governments, poverty and suffering, of AI and choice and the progression of their intelligence beyond programming, of found family, and of the darkness of the human mind overcome by the need for survival. If you’re interested in both angles of Napper’s story, then clear your fucking schedule.

Aliens: Bishop, I feel, is also an excellent “in” for fans of the movies who have yet to enjoy one of the franchise books. It’s incredibly accessible, with easy-to-find nods to the movies for you to pick up on and enjoy. I’m also certain there are nods and nuances that well-read, die hard, Aliens fans are also going to pick up on and enjoy that have sailed right over my head. If you’re only just finding out that there are a stack of books to go with the Aliens movies, then I highly suggest you grab this book and get stuck in.

One of the things that Napper does so well, be it in his cyberpunk works, or in Aliens: Bishop is work in the regional nuances of the most complex region on the planet: the Asia Pacific (APAC). The APAC region has 23 countries, housing 60% of the entire planet’s population, who speak 3,000 languages, is the birthplace of 11 of the planet’s key religions, and has human history in all its glory and sheer fucking horror dating back for bloody ever. You so rarely see the people of this region–be it Australians, Vietnamese, Chinese, Indians, Cambodians, New Zealanders (to name a few)–front and centre in this level of mainstream sci-fi, but Napper is flying our flag, and I am here for it. From Vietnamese pho, to Australian Vegemite, to the vernacular and social structures of both countries (where he has lived and worked), and those of the Chinese (I especially love how he paints the Vietnamese and Chinese as human beings, and not as cardboard villains as they tend to be in fiction and in media since the Vietnam War), Napper has worked in a completely new flavour to an old school franchise, without bloody ruining it.

Aliens: Bishop is a magnificent reading experience. It’s fast, fun, new (while paying incredible respect to the old), has plenty of depth if you care to look for it, and provides an excellent first franchise book for a new Aliens reader, and what I imagine is an excellent new lens for the Aliens books veteran.

Read Aliens: Bishop by T.R. Napper

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An Interview With Patrick Rothfuss – Part 2

Today we are excited to release part two of Grimdark Magazine’s exclusive interview with Patrick Rothfuss. In this installment, Beth Tabler and John Mauro ask Pat about aspects of his creative process in writing The Kingkiller Chronicle, including key aspects of Kvothe’s character in The Name of the Wind.

Pat also discusses the story behind his latest novella, The Narrow Road Between Desires, including the incorporation of artwork throughout the text. We also discuss the symbolic importance of the number three, which recurs throughout Pat’s work.

We hope that you enjoy this second installment of our interview with Patrick Rothfuss, an interview of three parts. (Watch Part 1 here)

Read The Narrow Road Between Desires

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REVIEW: Baldur’s Gate III

At the time of writing, it has been precisely 8 days, 14 hours and 46 minutes since I completed Larian Studios’ magnificent Baldur’s Gate 3. It took me approximately 5 weeks to complete—5 weeks that went by in a sleepless, dazed, hyper-focused blur—and I am now ruined for all other video games in the future. My gaming life will never be the same again. My mind is shot to pieces, my heart a bereft wasteland of too many emotions, and all I can think about is my character, their lovable, beautifully written companions, their epic journey across Faerûn, and how devastated I am knowing I can never experience playing this wonderful, incredible game for the first time all over again.

Baldur’s Gate 3 is the greatest video game I have ever played in my 34 years of life, and let me tell you, it’s not even a closely run contest.

It is 120 years after the events of Baldur’s Gate II: Shadows of Amn. The year is 1492 DR, and your character awakens aboard a stricken nautiloid—a mind flayer ship. Worse still, you’ve been infected by a mind flayer Tadpole—an abhorrent creature which threatens to turn you into a mind flayer yourself if you do not seek out a cure within days. After picking up several equally-infected companions—or not, the choice is up to you—you must journey along the Sword Coast, battling goblins, hags, Bhaalspawn and more to avoid becoming an abomination of tentacles and sinister psionic power. Will you become a thrall to the mysterious hive mind known only as the Absolute? Will you destroy it, or claim its power as your own?

First off, you absolutely do not need to have played previous instalments of BALDUR’S GATE to play Baldur’s Gate 3. The story is entirely self-contained, and players receive a robust tutorial. Despite the gaming mechanics and lore of Baldur’s Gate 3 revolving around the Forgotten Realms campaigns of the tabletop role-playing game Dungeons & Dragons, you also don’t require any prior knowledge of D&D either (although it does help). If you’ve ever wanted to play D&D yourself but haven’t yet had the opportunity to do so, Baldur’s Gate 3 is a great place to start. Now you too can experience the joy, frustration, hilarity and despair of rolling a Nat 20/Nat 1 at a critical juncture!

The sheer size of the game is mind-blowing. Multiple dialogue routes and high-impact choices—along with both passive and active dice rolls you succeed or fail—lead to wildly different story outcomes, cut scenes, and dialogue, making it impossible to uncover all the game has to offer on a single playthrough. The game I was playing looked entirely different to that of my friends, and that is ultimately down to the sheer amount of customisation and creativity on offer in terms of both your initial character creation, your actions, and your choices when it comes to dealing with enemies, allies and obstacles.

There are 11 races and 12 classes to choose from, and you can customise your character in whichever way you like (you can also choose to play as one of the pre-made origin characters who come with their own unique story progression, but it’s not recommended you start here). For my first playthrough, I chose a Lolth-Sworn Drow Rogue, making things like navigating the goblin camps and the Underdark easier due to my race and subrace-specific dialogue choices, but other areas like the Tiefling camp a little trickier. Given my low armour class and attack stats, combat was also significantly harder. As such, I was often forced to seek out alternative solutions to progress, such as stealthing my way around the battlefield to pick off weaker enemies first, lying through my teeth to gain alliances I later intended to betray, and persuading disloyal NPCs to turn on their employers. The roleplay element felt very real, and I thoroughly enjoyed leaning into the story elements of my created character to navigate my game. If you choose a tankier, less wily character to play such as a Barbarian or a Fighter, you’ll likely be engaging in combat and brute-forcing your way through doors and obstacles a lot more often.

In terms of overall gameplay, Baldur’s Gate 3 is challenging but not impossible, and players can lower or raise the difficulty depending on their confidence. For my first playthrough I set my difficulty to Balanced, and it felt exactly that. The learning curve was steep, but not at all insurmountable, and once I realised I was basically playing one giant game of D&D where I controlled every player except the Dungeon Master—that I could cast spells and initiate actions outside of combat and split up my party to explore different areas—things became much easier to navigate. The combat itself is turn-based and hugely addictive, by its very nature forcing you to think strategically and plot your next move instead of going in all guns blazing; I absolutely loved it. This is particularly applicable when you hit max level in Act 3 and must start considering things like character respecs and multiclassing to give yourself the edge you need to win (I ended up giving my Rogue 7 levels of the Ranger class after getting absolutely annihilated in the House of Grief).

The world feels huge and open, but by being broken down into Act-specific chunks means it isn’t too overwhelming at first (apart from Act 3, more on that later). Multiple points of interaction in-world exist, and depending on your race and class, might only interact with you and you alone. The environments are stunningly beautiful, and the accompanying score is gorgeous—the most iconic I’ve heard since The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. Entrants to the late-game dungeon known as the House of Hope are in for a real treat on that front…

The storytelling contained within Baldur’s Gate 3 is unparalleled. Never have I encountered a game so well-written, nor so beautifully and passionately acted. Not only is the main story engrossing and exciting—with a real sense of urgency to it that cannot help but propel you forward—but there are multiple side quests to pick up along the way that are equally well-developed which can influence the final outcome of the game. Not least among them are those pertaining to the recruitable travelling companions who can join your party and be utilised inside and outside of combat (providing you don’t kill them of course). Each companion comes with their own personal quest, and how you handle those quests—including ignoring them completely—directly impacts your relationship with them and how they behave. Though not the bones of the game, the companions are hands down its flesh and blood, and I adored every single one of them. The chaotic Astarion, mysterious Shadowheart and prickly Lae’zel were my favourites, and I took them everywhere with me if I could help it (even though insisting on having 2 Rogues in my team was something of a masochistic choice).

In addition to joining your party and aiding you in combat, most of your travelling companions are also romanceable. Your character can flirt with them, sleep with them, enter long-term relationships with them, dump them and be dumped by them. They are aware of each other, will get jealous of each other (or not—there are some limited polyamorous options), and might also shack up with each other if you turn them down. Over time, I realised that although I’d picked up Baldur’s Gate 3 for the D&D-style mechanics, addictive turn-based combat and in-depth storytelling, I’d ultimately stayed for the romance simulator; it is fantastic. Romancing companions is a massive chunk of the game and even if you are not romantically inclined, I would strongly advise you still explore some of these relationships, as the amount of additional bonus content and emotional storytelling whack you get is insane. Unlike other games I’ve played with romanceable characters, these relationships don’t go away or abruptly stop either; they have impact and relevance right up until the final battle and beyond.

For my playthrough, I chose to romance the hilariously sassy Rogue vampire elf Astarion—a veritable 3-Act goldmine of swoon-worthy extra content who honestly had me questioning my sanity with how emotionally invested I became in him. Though one of the easiest characters to bed, getting him to engage in the meat and gristle of an actual relationship—especially if you are swaying him away from his darker side, as I was—is much harder. Cue a lot of arguing, persuading, pushing and pulling between your character and his that feels unbelievably real. The end result is hugely emotionally satisfying, to the point I cannot even imagine playing the game without it. Entire dialogue segments exist in the final throes of Astarion’s companion quest that specifically pertain to him sleeping with and loving your character, and boy does it hit hard. Romancing Astarion did make me wonder just how much extra content I was missing by not romancing any of the other companions, because I got so much from him alone.

This does seem to depend on the characters you choose to romance, however. A friend of mine chose to romance the nature-loving Druid elf Halsin and was comparatively disappointed by his single (albeit much more explicit) sex scene and lack of Act 3 content. Despite this, she is no less invested in him, showing the sheer strength of storytelling that exists even in the more underdeveloped quest lines. There also exist instances where you can sleep with certain NPCs as one-offs that are never mentioned again. Nonetheless, for deeper, longer-term connections and additional storytelling dynamics, romancing the origin characters (the ones with Tadpoles in their heads) seems to be the way to go.

Now for my very few negatives: in comparison to Acts 1 and 2, Act 3 is rather overwhelming. Huge and sprawling, I spent more time floundering in Act 3 than I did Acts 1 and 2 combined, with very few quest markers to follow, a huge area to explore (including an underground sewer system that nearly made me cry when I found it), and hundreds of NPCs to talk to. It almost feels like a completely different game. After I’d completed my in-game lover’s companion quest, I felt utterly exhausted and like I was dragging my emotionally drained husk through to the end. It was ultimately worth it, especially once I finally made it to the aforementioned House of Hope which is hands down the best dungeon in the game, but Act 3 did feel a bit like it went on forever.

The game is also not without its bugs, with each patch seeming to introduce as many as they fix. I personally encountered two game-breaking bugs during my playthrough that required elaborate Reddit-researched workarounds to solve. The game is a living, breathing thing, and it’s clear the developers aren’t quite done with it. For example, players should also be aware that some characters’ endings were massively cut for release (e.g. the lovable, fiery Tiefling Karlach), and so elements of the overall ending do feel somewhat abrupt. It’s a very small niggle in the grand scheme of things, and the developers have confirmed they are actively reworking some of the epilogues—have even already started doing so with the more recent patches. Given how utterly stupendous the rest of the game is, I’ve no doubt everything will eventually be worth the wait.

My main negative, in all honestly, is that the game ended at all. I never wanted it to stop.

Overall, Baldur’s Gate 3 is a stunning achievement. Dark, brutal, laugh-out loud funny, emotionally hard-hitting and highly addictive, Larian Studios have raised the bar for what a video game can be to astronomical levels. I’ll be replaying for many years to come and likely still discovering new things. All the stars. All the praise. I cannot recommend it enough.

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Review: The Narrow Road Between Desires by Patrick Rothfuss

Patrick Rothfuss returns with The Narrow Road Between Desires, a poignant novella that takes place during the outer framing story of the Kingkiller Chronicle. The Narrow Road Between Desires is told from the perspective of Bast, the mischievous fae and friend of Kvothe, the main protagonist from the series. With his good heart but regular trickery, Bast is reminiscent of Puck from William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

The main story of The Narrow Road Between Desires was originally published as a 58-page novella, The Lightning Tree, as part of the Rogues anthology compiled by George R.R. Martin and Gardner Dozios. In his recent interview with Grimdark Magazine, Patrick Rothfuss describes The Narrow Road Between Desires as a renovation project. He knew that there was a great story in The Lightning Tree, but it also had plenty of room for improvement.

The Narrow Road Between Desires represents a complete rewrite of The Lightning Tree, bringing it to a state of polished perfection. Once again, Rothfuss proves that his prose is timeless. The Narrow Road Between Desires is also significantly longer than The Lightning Tree—it includes new and extended scenes, as well as about forty illustrations from the talented Nate Taylor.

In The Narrow Road Between Desires, we spend a day with Bast as he helps and/or manipulates the village children. Bast hangs out at the Lightning Tree, waiting for children to come with their problems or questions. Bast agrees to help them in exchange for secrets, favors, or labors.

There are a lot of questions about Bast and his motivations after reading both The Name of the Wind and The Wise Man’s Fear. Bast is highly manipulative, but he also has a heart. The warmer side of Bast’s personality becomes apparent in the latter part of the novella, when he helps a young boy, Rike, deal with his abusive father. This part of the story is touching and somber, bringing tears to my eyes.

Nate Taylor contributes gorgeous artwork throughout The Narrow Road Between Desires, which truly enhances the experience. Taylor and Rothfuss previously collaborated on The Slow Regard of Silent Things, the first Kingkiller Chronicle novella which focuses on Auri. Taylor and Rothfuss also collaborated on The Adventures of the Princess and Mr. Whiffle, the children’s book series that’s not actually for children.

The Narrow Road Between Desires is an instant classic and a welcome return for Patrick Rothfuss. Rothfuss and Taylor strike the perfect balance between whimsy and earnestness. The novella tackles the issue of domestic violence with nuance and honesty. Seasoned fans of the Kingkiller Chronicle will love spending this time with Bast. The Narrow Road Between Desires also works great as a standalone novella, even if you haven’t read the other entries in the series.

5/5

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REVIEW: Deviant #1 by James Tynion (W) and Joshua Hixson(A)

Deviant #1 written by James Tynion IV, art by Joshua Hixson, is, on the surface, a perfectly delightful slasher comic (delightful in the sense it is pitch perfect horror).  All the elements (some which seem autobiographical) of the slasher genre are there – the crazed psychopath in a Santa Claus costume menaces a small town, while his innocent victims start to rapidly pile up against a backdrop of a snowy Christmas somewhere in the USA.  Coupled with Hixson’s art, if Tynion had left it at that, this would be a fine, if slightly unmemorable book.

But Deviant #1 is much more than a simple slasher comic.  Like a lot of horror today, it couples the Horror (the blood and guts and terror) with the horror (the interior lives of the characters informing the themes of the title and adding weight, poignancy and a great deal of dread to the reading experience).  Thanks to Tynion’s deft hand the reader gets to experience both sides of the H/horror coin.

Deviant #1 shuttles between the main character, Michael, living in 2023, and the horrifying murders committed in 1973.  Michael is a comic book writer (see what I mean about possibly being autobiographical?) in search of a story.  He finds it in the shape of Randall Olsen, a man convicted in 1973 for a series of murders and now finds himself languishing in prison.  Both Michael and Randall are gay.  The changes in how a gay man like Michael lives his life today is grimly contrasted with Randall, a closeted man who lived in a time and place where homosexuality was very much condemned.

The heart of Deviant #1 lies in the interview Michael conducts with Randall.  In a twisting back and forth that reveals as much about each character as it disturbingly hints at, Michael comes ostensibly across a free man, able to come and go as he pleases and live his life as he chooses.  But all through the interview you sense that he feels trapped.  Trapped by his career, trapped by his relationship (which in and of itself seems a little odd) and trapped by memories of his childhood.  Paradoxically, it is Randall who seems most at ease throughout the interview, despite having spent the last fifty years locked up for a crime he may not have committed.  It is a tense and twisty conversation, with Randall having the upper hand from the start, gently teasing information from Michael that reveals much about him as a character, and also his past.

The central horror of Deviant #1 lies in the sense of dread that Tynion builds and builds until you can just about feel the comic groan under the pressure.  Hixson’s artwork masterfully builds on that dread, creating a world suffocatingly trapped by the encroaching winter, as well as the cold and dank confines of the prison.  The flashbacks to 1973 are well handled, and you will never look at a darkened department store with the same innocent interest again.  Be warned; Hixson doesn’t hold back in depicting the murders that occur – they are truly shocking, but essential for maintaining the atmosphere of the story, and also conveying the menace of the killer.

It doesn’t feel appropriate to say I loved Deviant #1, but you know what, I did.  It’s extremely well written, and given Tynion’s long history of horror comics writing, there’s no surprise there.  The central relationship between Randall and Michael shares some of the same DNA as the bond between Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter from The Silence of the Lambs.  The artwork is simply amazing – Hixson’s ability to go from the bright Christmas lights of 2023 and 1973, to the mind cracking horror of the last few pages, is second to none.

Both elements – the writing and the artwork – make Deviant #1 a must buy.

5/5 stars

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Review: Until the Last by Mike Shackle

The stakes couldn’t be higher in Until the Last, the final installment of Mike Shackle’s The Last War trilogy, a grimdark military fantasy inspired by real-life stories of resistance in Nazi-occupied France during World War II.

In Mike Shackle’s debut novel, We Are the Dead, the country of Jia is swiftly overrun by their militant neighbors to the north, whose war machine is amplified with demonic magical powers. The occupying Egril forces impose rigid martial law on Jia, forcing the defeated Jians to worship their god of darkness, Kage.

The second book of the series, A Fool’s Hope, finds our protagonists gathering strength to resist the Egril invaders. The final war known as Sekanowari arrives in Until the Last, the concluding volume of the trilogy. Like its predecessor, Until the Last is primarily a character-driven novel that revolves around the relationship between two lead protagonists: Zorique, the orphaned queen of Jia, and her emotionally troubled surrogate mother, Tinnstra.

The Last War trilogy is full of great characters. Tinnstra and Zorique are my two absolute favorites, both overcoming indescribable tragedies to become the reluctant heroes needed by their people. Other returning favorites include Yas, the single mother who transforms into a powerful gangster boss, and the aged general Jax who suffers from a terrible inner demon. I especially enjoyed Jax’s character arc in Until the Last, which takes an unexpectedly dark turn.

As in A Fool’s Hope, Mike Shackle introduces several new point-of-view characters in this final volume of the trilogy. I have an immediate negative reaction whenever new point-of-view characters are introduced in later volumes of a series, since all I want is to spend more time with the characters I already know. Perhaps this is just lingering trauma from reading George R.R. Martin’s unnecessarily bloated A Feast for Crows, where every side character seems to get their own perspective and backstory. Although Until the Last also feels a bit bloated, Mike Shackle manages this balance a lot better than George R.R. Martin, never losing focus on the main narrative.

Mike Shackle’s writing feels crisp and tight throughout the entire trilogy, and I think he has elevated his craft to a new level in Until the Last. Although the story is undeniably brutal, I also appreciated Mike Shackle’s sense of humor evident in both the freewheeling Captain Ralasis and in the author’s rather extensive use of tuckerization. Mike Shackle is especially good at writing fight scenes, with plenty of action that kept me fully fixated until the last page.

Although We Are the Dead is rather light on magic, magical elements become dramatically more prevalent in A Fool’s Hope, to the point where two of the main characters felt, perhaps, too superpowered by the end of the book. However, in Until the Last, we learn that these magical powers come with a heavy cost.

Given the World War II inspiration for much of the Last War trilogy, I wonder if acquiring these overwhelming magical abilities could be analogous to the nuclear arms race that occurred on both sides of the war, ultimately leading to the development of weapons with unprecedented capacity for destruction. One point that becomes clear throughout Until the Last is that these magical powers do nothing to correct the faults in our human nature.

Altogether, the Last War trilogy sets a new standard for grimdark military fantasy. Mike Shackle’s worldbuilding, writing, and character development are all top-notch. Most of all, I am touched by Shackle’s focus on the humanity behind the unspeakable violence and tragedy of war.

4.5/5

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An Interview With Jim Butcher

Jim Butcher, the New York Times and USA Today best-selling author of The Dresden Files, which follows Harry Dresden, a private investigator and practicing wizard. The Codex Alera, an epic 6-book finished fantasy series following crafters who can control the elements through a person’s bond with that element. And finally, The Cinder Spires, a steampunk-inspired fantasy world following the war between two different spires, Spire Albion and Spire Aurora, towering miles above a shrouded mist-covered land. Jim will release his second novel in The Cinder Spires universe, The Olympian Affair, on November 7th, 2023.

During an AMA Jim did on Reddit, Jim described the world of “The Cinder Spires” as “It’s kinda League of Extraordinary Gentlemen meets Sherlock meets Hornblower. There are goggles and airships and steam power and bizarre crystal technology and talking cats, who are horrid little bullies.” 

Jim was kind enough to sit down with questions from Grimdark Magazine and tell us what we have in store for book two.

[GdM] I had the privilege of interviewing your son, James Butcher, last year and loved his debut novel, Dead Man’s Hand. How exciting is it for you to have a son who is now a thriving author in his own right?

[JB] It’s incredibly exciting! In much the same way as being chased by a bear. James’s first published novel was probably as good as my third. His second is as good as my fifth or sixth. He’s going to leave me eating his dust before long, and then I’ll be hoping for crossover readers from his fandom.

[GdM] What books, authors, or fiction works have significantly impacted your writing style and how you approach storytelling?

[JB] I owe great thanks to my writing teacher, Deborah Chester, who taught me everything I really needed to know about writing. Babylon 5 and Buffy the Vampire Slayer also both made big contributions to my initial writing style.

[GdM] Are there any genres or themes you want to explore in your future works? Is there a possible Romance or Horror novel in your head waiting to be released?

[JB] Oh, I’m not a complicated guy. If I was half as mercenary as I like to pretend I am, I’d have been writing mainstream thrillers a long time ago. For me, if the story doesn’t have vampires, ghosts, aliens, monsters, magic or superpowers, I just don’t get the point. Nothing wrong with thrillers, romance, literary or mainstream novels—but I grew up lost in Narnia, Pern, Amber, Gor, Prydain and Krynn. Those places will always be my native lands.

[GdM] Can you talk a bit about the hat joke for Dresden, which is a funny bit of trivia? Are there buried jokes in the covers for The Cinder Spires?

[JB] What hat? In the books, Dresden doesn’t wear a hat, but way back in the olden days, Penguin’s art department decided that the perfect visual shorthand for a Wizard/Private Investigator would be a guy carrying a wizard’s staff and wearing a fedora.

I used to tease the artist, Chris McGrath, about the hat, but he bested me in the funniest possible way—in the Cinder Spires, one of the central characters, Francis Madison Grimm, is an airship captain who wouldn’t be caught dead in public without his hat. Chris drew him sans chapeau, and when I saw the first draft I laughed until I cried. Chris very kindly went back in and gave Grimm his hat back, beneath his arm, and I have stopped teasing about it.

[GdM] James Marsters is now as synonymous with the Dresden Files audiobooks as he is as Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Are you developing a similar relationship with Euan Morton?

[JB] I’ve never met Euan, but I hope to have the chance some day! He’s an amazing reader, and I very much hope we’re able to retain him for the length of the series.

[GdM] How would you describe a hero? Is Harry a hero, or is Tavi from Codex Alera? Does that differ from how you view a hero as a novel reader and not the author? Or is it impossible to separate the two?

[JB] My writing teacher always taught us to call the central character of the novel a “protagonist” rather than a hero, and I’ve maintained that practice my whole career. Not all protagonists are heroic, and not all heroic characters are protagonists. For writing purposes, I see them as completely unconnected roles.

That said, a hero is someone who runs toward danger, who steps up in a crisis to brave risks to themselves in order to protect others. A hero is anyone who stands between the threats and predators of the world and their would-be victims and says, “No.” A hero is some who sacrifices their own interests to benefit those who cannot help themselves.

My dad was a hero.

[GdM] What was the process for adapting “Dresden Files” for a graphic novel? Do you have similar plans for “The Cinder Spires?” Is writing for the adaptation to a graphic novel the same creative space as writing a book?

[JB] They let me write one script for one graphic novel, after which we all decided we’d be better off hiring a professional in the field and letting me give him an outline to use as a foundation. The graphic novels owe much more to the talent of Mark Powers than they do to me.

I’d be terribly pleased to see a Cinder Spires adaptation, but it hasn’t happened yet.

[GdM] I read that the “Codex Alera” novels are based on two supposedly lame ideas, Pokemon and Lost Roman Legion. Is that true, and if so, was your friend impressed with the outcome? Does “The Cinder Spires” series have an origin story as well?

[JB] I don’t know exactly what you’ve heard, but I did put those books together on a bet, in order to win an online argument. I was challenged to use a terrible idea to write a good story, and I demanded he give me TWO terrible ideas. He did. The story came together, and wound up being half a dozen novels.

The Cinder Spires came to me while driving home from a LARP with a minivan full of sleeping teens. I was listening to Downward Spiral by Nine Inch Nails, while racing an enormous thunderstorm home, and the first couple of chapters just appeared in my head.

[GdM] Can you tell readers about The Olympian Affair and where we are in the story?

[JB] In the world of the Cinder Spires, war is brewing between two major Spires, Albion and Aurora. Fleets of airships armed with energy weapons are on the brink of major war, and both Spires are trying to convince other major Spires to join their side in the coming conflict, or at least to take a stance of constructive neutrality. A major trade summit at Spire Olympia sets the stage for intrigue, alliances, betrayals and general skullduggery in the last days before the war. Lord Albion, Spirearch of Spire Albion, has charged Captain Grimm and his crew with the task of supporting the diplomatic mission to Olympia.

If only the enemy didn’t have other ideas.

[GdM] What is Warriorborn: A Cinder Spires Novella? And where does it fit into the series progression?

[JB] Warriborn is a novella set immediately before the events of the Olympian Affair. It centers on Sir Benedict Lancaster-Sorellin, who leads a small team of warrioborn—super soldiers, born with the prowess of lions in their blood—to a remote Spire to recover vital intelligence for the Spirearch. Unfortunately, the Aurorans got their first, and Benedict soon finds himself in a desperate race to survive both Auroran warriorborn and terrible surface creatures, while simultaneously trying to herd a small tribe of cats.

Think of it as a Bond mission at the beginning of the movie. It won’t be necessary to have read the novella to follow the novel.

[GdM] What are the major themes of “The Cinder Spires” series? Do these differ specifically in The Olympian Affair?

[JB] Talking cats. Come on. Everyone is there for the cats. We all know it, it’s just that no one wants to admit it.

I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about themes while I write—they just appear naturally there when you craft a story properly. I often don’t realize what the theme of one of my books is until months or years after it’s been published.

But I promise there are cats in The Olympian Affair.

[GdM] Chicago, the backdrop of Dresden Files, has a rich cultural history, both good and bad. This city plurality fits because Dresden is undoubtedly a grey character. Setting-wise, are aspects of the “The Cinder Spires” worldbuilding reflected in the characters?

[JB] I just write down the conversations of my imaginary friends. I don’t do it on purpose. But if I’m building the world properly, it’s inevitable that it will happen on its own. If you take the time to make sure that characters truly walk and breathe and eat and think in a world with enough dimension to feel real, they’re going to embody aspects of it whether you want them to or not.

[GdM] The characters in The Cinder Spires are eclectic and have a defined voice in the narrative. How do you craft a varied cast and ensure their voices shine through?

[JB] Mostly by making them as distinct from one another as I can. They come from very different backgrounds and very different upbringings, so of course they’re going to see the same things from different perspectives. They’ll have different priorities and prerogatives, and those differences will be reflected in their goals and how they choose to go about them.

[GdM] The concept of etherealists, crystals, and the magic system, in general, is unique. How did you approach the magical system creation for the series, and were you inspired by anything?

[JB] I really enjoy how Sanderson plays with his magic systems in Mistborn, and I wanted to play too! Between that and beginning with the notion “any sufficiently advanced system of magic will be indistinguishable from technology,” I had a great time creating these characters who can basically do what engineers can do—but skip all the troublesome bits with designing devices in the middle.

[GdM] Having magic and technology in a story can be delicate. How do you ensure that the two aspects complement each other and that one does not outshine the other?

[JB] I don’t see any problem with one outshining the other, depending on what you want to do with your story. That said, regardless of the story universe, magic tends to be something intimately personal, while technology is almost by definition impersonal, made for just anyone to use. So I use magic for the up-close stuff, technology for the broader story issues, and so far it seems to work out.

[GdM] How many books do you have planned for The Cinder Spires series?

[JB] Depends on the audience, who are ultimately my bosses. I’ve got outlines for a three, six, or nine book series. Assuming copies keep moving, I’ll keep writing, but I think six will probably be just about right to tell a really good story.

[GdM] What are you reading right now?

[JB] The Blood Trails series by independent author Jennifer Blackstream! Excellent urban fantasy, strong on mystery, written by someone who clearly loves to solve puzzles.

READ THE OLYMPIAN AFFAIR BY JIM BUTCHER

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