Moe Lane's Blog, page 25
September 4, 2025
Zach Cregger skipping watching RESIDENT EVIL movies before making one.
The man’s… maybe got a point? “Zach Cregger Is Making a RESIDENT EVIL Movie Without Having Seen One, and He Thinks Fans Will Be Stoked.” The RESIDENT EVIL movie series have not really been well received by critics, and the box office on them has been steady but not spectacular. More relevantly, WEAPONS got knocked out of the park, so Hollywood is gonna give him a bigger budget to see whether he can produce a four hundred million dollar movie.
As is the custom of the country.
#commissionearned
09/04/2025 Snippet, BANSHEE BEACH.
Filling in the blanks continues!
…
Unsurprisingly, I didn’t get past the foyer of the Cochimi Ritz. They did send up a bellhop to knock on Banshee’s hotel door with only a minimum of snootiness. The concierge even lost some of the haughtiness when I made it clear I just didn’t care either way. He looked relieved, in fact, which I got. It kind of sucks to be ‘on’ all the time.
The bellhop returned in quick time to announce that “Administrator Wozniak” (I was mildly surprised at the title of nobility) would be descending shortly; it surprised the staff (but not me) to discover that Banshee was most non-aristocratically punctual. It surprised everybody when she gave the concierge a glare. “Was there a reason that Mr. Vargas is not allowed to knock on doors on his own?” she asked him.
I was impressed, honestly. She managed to make the man quaver even without having to threaten indiscriminate violence. “Ah, Dona, we endeavor not to let anyone pass into the guest spaces who is not vouched for,” he managed. “We do not make exceptions.”
“So there was a reason,” she nodded after a moment. “Understood.” The concierge relaxed. “But since I do vouch for Mr. Vargas, surely” (I wondered if I imagined the emphasis there) “such a rigmarole will not be necessary in the future?”
“It’s a foreign word,” I told the concierge as he looked at me in confusion, and I don’t know why, either. “Means ‘embrollo.’”
09/04/2025 Snippet, IRONGHOSTS.
Tunnels! And societal backstory!
…
The two of them made good time. The sewers of the vanished Old Americans matched the rest of their works: large, cunningly constructed, and almost absurdly concerned with safety. There were still centuries-old railings and ramps, reasonably secure to the touch and able to take their weight when leaned on. “Did the Old Americans make a habit of dwelling underground?” wondered Oxman. “I’ve seen less care devoted to palaces.”
“They did not,” Nat replied. “The books say that they had powerful sects that did nothing but look for dangers and risks to destroy. Some kind of civic cult, I would guess. The dynasty that once ruled Unholy Toledo claimed descent from one such, but the history of the O’Shahs burned when their keep did.”
“Damned Dominion catspaws,” growled Oxman. “How is it that no-one besides the Hersheyans can see the Dominion fist inside the Toledan glove?”
Patreon!
The AMERICAN PALADIN Kickstarter video.
Looking forward to this, really. Might skip the audiobook, though: it’s hard for me to get into those. You can also find a signup for the American Paladin Kickstarter here.
Sign up for updates: https://t.co/6za4nOFopP pic.twitter.com/rOoEmq0n9W
— Ark Press (@ark_press) September 4, 2025
September 3, 2025
The 007: FIRST LIGHT trailer.
007: FIRST LIGHT comes out in March; looks pretty good. Thinking about it, although I probably should upgrade my computer first.
Self-Tweet of the Day, I Read A Distinctly Different Version Of This In High School edition.
The Hell of it is, Emily Bronte might have even been okay with this exceptionally thirsty version of Wuthering Heights. That entire family was a touch, ah, idiosyncratic. …Writers. We’re really, really weird!
https://t.co/bcbx1r5T37 pic.twitter.com/Gy7f8uOyFY
— Ogiel (Moe Lane) (@Ogiel23) September 3, 2025
09/03/2025 Snippet, IRONGHOSTS Part 2.
Sewers!
…
The rumbling from the surface grew louder, until it was directly above them… and did not stop. Instead, it grew fainter and fainter, until it was nothing more than the background noise of the world. When that, too, had vanished, Oxman straightened from his fighter’s half-crouch. “No sense cringing at every sound,” he said, low but not whispering. “It will either hear, or not. Best to know now.”
“The answer is… ‘not,’ it seems,” Nat decided after spending a minute listening to the dripping susurrus of a river underground. “Do you have a way to see?”
“The same as you, I wager,” Oxman chuckled, as he pulled out a pair of glasses. As he put them on the passage instantly grew bright enough to discern, if colorless. A quick look revealed that Nat had put on his own pair, which had also been artfully crafted to resemble the fabled Way-farers of the Old Americans. “At least it’s sweet-smelling down here, for a sewer.”
Patreon!
Blocked out the rest of BANSHEE BEACH today.
Put notes throughout so that I can go to each one, write out the narrative, and stitch the whole thing together. Once that happens, I have an alpha text, and can get that to the alpha reader. Then it’s the beta readers’ turn, and then the editor’s, and then… hey, presto! BANSHEE BEACH.
Yeah. About time, hey?
09/03/2025 Snippet, BRAVING THE MALSTORM.
I’m not entirely sure about the ‘fart fire’ line. For one thing, is that the sort of thing that Alkali would say? For another, why wouldn’t the Dominion just do that anyway?
…
Roger did the full ‘white of their eyes’ thing (more like green-black, though) before throwing the full whammy on the rampager. If the monster had been a construct, or the laughably crude undead that the Dominion’s been resorting to lately, it would have flown apart from the sheer Divine disgust being channeled through the priest. But this was a creature, alas. A creature warped by vivisectionist spells and malignant intent, but still living. The blast snapped scales and tattered its wing membranes, and clearly hurt, but the rampager still managed to scrabble over the side instead of falling back over.
I reminded myself that this was a good thing as I took position next to Zeke, my own bow in hand. Neither of us wasted time yelling about plans; we just started shooting off our quivers, looking for good vulnerable spots without fussing too much. The point was to goad the rampager, and keep it moving in our direction. I wouldn’t mind killing it outright, but if fifteen-foot bat-winged monsters weren’t already tough in a fight, then the Dominion would have made them twenty-feet, and have them fart fire.
