Andrea K. Höst's Blog, page 18
July 20, 2013
The Absence Sue
Mary Sue, as first defined in the Star Trek fandom, was an original character introduced to the Trek universe whose presence bent the plot to serve a wish-fulfilment fantasy of a fanfic's author. Mary Sue was a self-insertion valorised to the detriment of the existing characters.
This definition has been expanded to include "any authorial self-insertion" even in original fiction, (and in the worst instances distorted to substantively cover "any female who is valorised at all, in any circumstance"), but lately I've been thinking back on the occurrence of Mary Sue as a fanfic insertion and wondering at the purpose she served.
In particular, I've been thinking about Mary Sue in relation to this web comic by Interrobang Studios. It's a very funny comic! In the first episode, "Mary Sue Must Die", the Enterprise suffers a Sue, and the crew takes drastic action. But it's the second episode, and specifically this page, which has been bubbling over in the back of my mind. This episode, "The Wrath of Sue", involves a veritable plague of Sues, which have spread from the Trek universe and gone to take over other stories.
The page features a bunch of different men characters from stories I had enjoyed over the years - represented here as "the greatest minds in the Universe" and I found myself saying: "Speaking of Sues...".
But, of course, these were men characters with their own stories, and thus the plot cannot be distorted to serve them, as it was shaped around them in the first place. The Doctor and Sherlock there most definitely fit the "overloaded with virtues" criteria, but not the Enterprise crew. There we have Kirk the action guy, Spock the Smartest, Sulu the Swordsman, Bones the Cynic and medical genius, Scotty the reliable, and Uhura the linguist.
Then it hit me. The Smurfette Principle. The stories where Mary Sue was born, and where we hear the most about her obnoxiousness, are the stories where the main characters are almost all men - and all different types of men - and perhaps one main female character (who usually doesn't get to do as much cool stuff as the guys). A male fan of Trek has a range of male characters in which to identify, who are all cool and valorised in their own different ways. A female character either gets to identify with the male characters, or with Uhura (who is cool and valorised but is frequently not given much to do in the plot). The same with female Lord of the Rings fans. There are a broad range of male characters, one of whom is likely to suit a male reader's personality. There are no female characters in the Fellowship, and the female characters (particularly in the novels) are either brief appearances, or kept out of the main action.
We don't hear about the plague of Mary Sue inserts in Cardcaptor Sakura fanfic. Or the Powerpuff Girls. Sure, there might be a little, but where a story offers a range of female characters, who are not sidelined from the action, a female fan is in the situation which the male fan enjoys in Star Trek or Lord of the Rings. A range of characters of the gender she identifies with, actively participating in the story as a main player.
And so I ask myself: Is Mary Sue - obnoxious and world-distorting as she can be - simply making up for a lack in the world she has entered? When we see Mary Sue, should we be deriding the fanfic writer? Or questioning the gender breakdown of the original universe?
Is Mary Sue in fact Absence Sue, working hard to make up for the 50% of the population missing out on the fun?
This definition has been expanded to include "any authorial self-insertion" even in original fiction, (and in the worst instances distorted to substantively cover "any female who is valorised at all, in any circumstance"), but lately I've been thinking back on the occurrence of Mary Sue as a fanfic insertion and wondering at the purpose she served.
In particular, I've been thinking about Mary Sue in relation to this web comic by Interrobang Studios. It's a very funny comic! In the first episode, "Mary Sue Must Die", the Enterprise suffers a Sue, and the crew takes drastic action. But it's the second episode, and specifically this page, which has been bubbling over in the back of my mind. This episode, "The Wrath of Sue", involves a veritable plague of Sues, which have spread from the Trek universe and gone to take over other stories.
The page features a bunch of different men characters from stories I had enjoyed over the years - represented here as "the greatest minds in the Universe" and I found myself saying: "Speaking of Sues...".
But, of course, these were men characters with their own stories, and thus the plot cannot be distorted to serve them, as it was shaped around them in the first place. The Doctor and Sherlock there most definitely fit the "overloaded with virtues" criteria, but not the Enterprise crew. There we have Kirk the action guy, Spock the Smartest, Sulu the Swordsman, Bones the Cynic and medical genius, Scotty the reliable, and Uhura the linguist.
Then it hit me. The Smurfette Principle. The stories where Mary Sue was born, and where we hear the most about her obnoxiousness, are the stories where the main characters are almost all men - and all different types of men - and perhaps one main female character (who usually doesn't get to do as much cool stuff as the guys). A male fan of Trek has a range of male characters in which to identify, who are all cool and valorised in their own different ways. A female character either gets to identify with the male characters, or with Uhura (who is cool and valorised but is frequently not given much to do in the plot). The same with female Lord of the Rings fans. There are a broad range of male characters, one of whom is likely to suit a male reader's personality. There are no female characters in the Fellowship, and the female characters (particularly in the novels) are either brief appearances, or kept out of the main action.
We don't hear about the plague of Mary Sue inserts in Cardcaptor Sakura fanfic. Or the Powerpuff Girls. Sure, there might be a little, but where a story offers a range of female characters, who are not sidelined from the action, a female fan is in the situation which the male fan enjoys in Star Trek or Lord of the Rings. A range of characters of the gender she identifies with, actively participating in the story as a main player.
And so I ask myself: Is Mary Sue - obnoxious and world-distorting as she can be - simply making up for a lack in the world she has entered? When we see Mary Sue, should we be deriding the fanfic writer? Or questioning the gender breakdown of the original universe?
Is Mary Sue in fact Absence Sue, working hard to make up for the 50% of the population missing out on the fun?
July 16, 2013
Tomb Raider (2013)
I posted previously on the Tomb Raider reboot, when an executive producer for the game said all sorts of things which made the game sound less than enticing. But when the game came out, there was a flurry of surprised "It's great!" reviews from various female gamers, so I eventually got around to playing it.
Way back when, I bought my sister a Playstation as a birthday present *cough* and one of the first games we played on it was the original Tomb Raider. We took turns falling off cliffs, and figuring out where the heck the next handhold might be, and it was fun. Yeah, Lara's primary outfit was some rather silly short shorts and a tank top (though she did have a lot more [skin-tight] warmer clothing throughout the games). In one memorable cut scene in Tomb Raider 2, Lara is knocked down by an explosion, the screen goes black, and then the camera pans over these...jagged...teal...mountains. My sister and I both burst out laughing - it was so gratuitous and ridiculous.
But while there were these occasional bits of fan service, Lara was assured, competent, and unhesitatingly destroyed countless ancient artefacts while mucking over the archaeological record. Plus there were occasional fits of shooting faceless goons, and a T-Rex.
As a long-time Tomb Raider player, Tomb Raider 2013 mostly held up for me. It kept me engaged. I played it through over a few short days. It wasn't perfect, or entirely unproblematic, but not so offensive as the controversial comments made out.
Gameplay
The beginning was off-putting. There was a lot of quick play scenes where you had a dramatic cut scene with occasional buttons popping up on screen that you had to press at just the right moment. And quite a lot of short sliding games which were kind of irritating. But eventually it evened out to reasonably traditional jumping puzzles (the puzzle part undercut somewhat by a "where to go" display). Overall the game play was very well done indeed.
Plot (minor spoilers)
The plot is similar to Andre Norton's Sargasso of Space.
Lara's part of an expedition (mostly made up of people who knew her father plus an extremely overdone skeevy professor) looking for a lost civilisation. They find an island where vicious storms have destroyed countless boats and planes, trapping an entire small town's worth of people on the island. They must break the power of the storms to get off the island, and deal with the people who have been trapped before them - who have formed a particularly nutty cult. All the cultists are adult men. That's because there are uses for girls. [Presumably uses for women and children as well. Not sexual uses, though.] This plot point is fairly inconsistently played out, with the cultists only really showing interest in one of the females from the latest wreck, instead having a high tendency to hang bodies up by their feet (for decoration apparently - with the plethora of deer and chickens on the island there would be no reason to use them for food).
Portrayal of Lara
At the time of the story Lara seems to have just finished college (or is in the later years of college), so I guess would have to be around 22. She looks sixteen. Unlike the relatively imposing original Lara, she (and her classmate Sam) are diminutive (and while her bust size is smaller and the short shorts are gone, the tank top is actually a little more revealing than the original).
Lara's companions (other than the skeevy professor) all pipe up with variations on "You're so wonderful Lara", even at the beginning of the story when Lara is still "innocent Lara" (there's actually three character models of Lara - "Innocent Lara", "Lara Croft" and "Survivor Lara" - the difference between them being layers of grime and the stance). A big deal is made out of her first kill, but then it's slaughter fest...with whimpering.
This is definitely a game attempting to be grimmer, grittier and "more real" than the previous games, which brought out a lot of dissonance between attempts at "game realism" and disbelief raised entirely by the attempts at realism.
Lara's injured from the outset. A wholly unbelievable scene involving a stick injury to the abdomen, which she pulls out (sheesh!) and she later suffers what I presume to be broken ribs. But then she gets some pain killers and is fine for the rest of the game. During her more injured phases, Lara makes lots of little gaspy, whimpery noises (and occasionally shivers pitifully in the rain - but never bothers taking a jacket off any of her kills, even when she heads into the snow).
There are two moments of suggestive touching, both when Lara is captive and a bad guy is being dominant over her (and yet this also does seem to be an island of men entirely disinterested in doing sex things to captives). Which, because the thought is raised because of that suggestive touching, sits at the front of the mind occasionally. I think they would have done better directly addressing the question, not with an assault, but with a reason (eg. boss guy forbids it).
The thing which bothered me most, though, were the death scenes. In original Tomb Raider Lara would fall into a pile of limbs, occasionally get shot (and there was that T-Rex), but the death was momentary and (perhaps thanks to poor graphics) not a big deal. This Tomb Raider has lovingly detailed and painful looking death scenes, provided almost like a reward (Collect the Whole Set!). See Lara impaled through the stomach! The throat! Watch the guy pull her head back and cut her throat! See the lovingly detailed expression of horror on her face!
So, yeah, not a fan of the death scenes.
Overall, this is a slick, engrossing game. But I prefer my Miss Croft without the whimpering.
Way back when, I bought my sister a Playstation as a birthday present *cough* and one of the first games we played on it was the original Tomb Raider. We took turns falling off cliffs, and figuring out where the heck the next handhold might be, and it was fun. Yeah, Lara's primary outfit was some rather silly short shorts and a tank top (though she did have a lot more [skin-tight] warmer clothing throughout the games). In one memorable cut scene in Tomb Raider 2, Lara is knocked down by an explosion, the screen goes black, and then the camera pans over these...jagged...teal...mountains. My sister and I both burst out laughing - it was so gratuitous and ridiculous.
But while there were these occasional bits of fan service, Lara was assured, competent, and unhesitatingly destroyed countless ancient artefacts while mucking over the archaeological record. Plus there were occasional fits of shooting faceless goons, and a T-Rex.
As a long-time Tomb Raider player, Tomb Raider 2013 mostly held up for me. It kept me engaged. I played it through over a few short days. It wasn't perfect, or entirely unproblematic, but not so offensive as the controversial comments made out.
Gameplay
The beginning was off-putting. There was a lot of quick play scenes where you had a dramatic cut scene with occasional buttons popping up on screen that you had to press at just the right moment. And quite a lot of short sliding games which were kind of irritating. But eventually it evened out to reasonably traditional jumping puzzles (the puzzle part undercut somewhat by a "where to go" display). Overall the game play was very well done indeed.
Plot (minor spoilers)
The plot is similar to Andre Norton's Sargasso of Space.
Lara's part of an expedition (mostly made up of people who knew her father plus an extremely overdone skeevy professor) looking for a lost civilisation. They find an island where vicious storms have destroyed countless boats and planes, trapping an entire small town's worth of people on the island. They must break the power of the storms to get off the island, and deal with the people who have been trapped before them - who have formed a particularly nutty cult. All the cultists are adult men. That's because there are uses for girls. [Presumably uses for women and children as well. Not sexual uses, though.] This plot point is fairly inconsistently played out, with the cultists only really showing interest in one of the females from the latest wreck, instead having a high tendency to hang bodies up by their feet (for decoration apparently - with the plethora of deer and chickens on the island there would be no reason to use them for food).
Portrayal of Lara
At the time of the story Lara seems to have just finished college (or is in the later years of college), so I guess would have to be around 22. She looks sixteen. Unlike the relatively imposing original Lara, she (and her classmate Sam) are diminutive (and while her bust size is smaller and the short shorts are gone, the tank top is actually a little more revealing than the original).
Lara's companions (other than the skeevy professor) all pipe up with variations on "You're so wonderful Lara", even at the beginning of the story when Lara is still "innocent Lara" (there's actually three character models of Lara - "Innocent Lara", "Lara Croft" and "Survivor Lara" - the difference between them being layers of grime and the stance). A big deal is made out of her first kill, but then it's slaughter fest...with whimpering.
This is definitely a game attempting to be grimmer, grittier and "more real" than the previous games, which brought out a lot of dissonance between attempts at "game realism" and disbelief raised entirely by the attempts at realism.
Lara's injured from the outset. A wholly unbelievable scene involving a stick injury to the abdomen, which she pulls out (sheesh!) and she later suffers what I presume to be broken ribs. But then she gets some pain killers and is fine for the rest of the game. During her more injured phases, Lara makes lots of little gaspy, whimpery noises (and occasionally shivers pitifully in the rain - but never bothers taking a jacket off any of her kills, even when she heads into the snow).
There are two moments of suggestive touching, both when Lara is captive and a bad guy is being dominant over her (and yet this also does seem to be an island of men entirely disinterested in doing sex things to captives). Which, because the thought is raised because of that suggestive touching, sits at the front of the mind occasionally. I think they would have done better directly addressing the question, not with an assault, but with a reason (eg. boss guy forbids it).
The thing which bothered me most, though, were the death scenes. In original Tomb Raider Lara would fall into a pile of limbs, occasionally get shot (and there was that T-Rex), but the death was momentary and (perhaps thanks to poor graphics) not a big deal. This Tomb Raider has lovingly detailed and painful looking death scenes, provided almost like a reward (Collect the Whole Set!). See Lara impaled through the stomach! The throat! Watch the guy pull her head back and cut her throat! See the lovingly detailed expression of horror on her face!
So, yeah, not a fan of the death scenes.
Overall, this is a slick, engrossing game. But I prefer my Miss Croft without the whimpering.
July 10, 2013
Pacific Rim (no spoilers)
Giant monster v Giant Robot. Mecha have been a staple of anime for decades, but is not often seen in live-action - the monumental size of the giant robots definitely not being easy to pull off. It occurs to me that most of the mecha anime I've watched - from Robotech to Evangelion - has taken a zero to hero approach. Pacific Rim is more hero to zero to hero, and is less concerned with the monumentality of mecha (the way becoming a giant robot transforms pilots into something Other) than with a straightforward message of "working together".
Visually, I enjoyed the movie a lot. The buildings and vehicles getting crushed all over the place felt very empty and there was little interest in this aspect of mecha (that the battle means the mecha will kill as many humans as the monsters), but it was definitely worth watching for the visuals alone.
Logic and common sense (let alone science) are chucked out the door in favour of the visuals, though. A lot of things seemed to happen purely because it would result in a pretty picture. And the whole wall-related thing is just bizarre, though oddly reminiscent of a manga/anime which has become popular on my Tumblr feed lately - Attack on Titan - which has a few memorable characters (Mikasa Ackerman FTW - seriously, listen to this speech) and some particularly awesome combat visuals.
The "A plot" of Pacific Rim - that of a particular mecha pilot and his new partner and of their relationship with the guy in charge of the Jaegr program - is reasonable. Not brilliant, or the kind of thing which would make me interested in rewatching, but entertaining enough.
The "B plot" - that of two rival scientists - is execrable. It's played for comic relief and is Just. So. Bad. The movie would have been much better if they'd just dropped this entire plotline and all of those characters.
As war stories go, this one was partially inclusive of women - there were a handful of women techs/soldiers/engineers and at least two pilots scattered among the huge numbers of men. But we were twenty minutes into the movie before my first sighting of a female.
So, Pacific Rim. What can I say? Not as stupid as Prometheus. Not nearly as enjoyable as Aliens.
Note: there were also two characters who were supposedly Australian. My main reaction to them is "Amazing how many accents this pair have".
Visually, I enjoyed the movie a lot. The buildings and vehicles getting crushed all over the place felt very empty and there was little interest in this aspect of mecha (that the battle means the mecha will kill as many humans as the monsters), but it was definitely worth watching for the visuals alone.
Logic and common sense (let alone science) are chucked out the door in favour of the visuals, though. A lot of things seemed to happen purely because it would result in a pretty picture. And the whole wall-related thing is just bizarre, though oddly reminiscent of a manga/anime which has become popular on my Tumblr feed lately - Attack on Titan - which has a few memorable characters (Mikasa Ackerman FTW - seriously, listen to this speech) and some particularly awesome combat visuals.
The "A plot" of Pacific Rim - that of a particular mecha pilot and his new partner and of their relationship with the guy in charge of the Jaegr program - is reasonable. Not brilliant, or the kind of thing which would make me interested in rewatching, but entertaining enough.
The "B plot" - that of two rival scientists - is execrable. It's played for comic relief and is Just. So. Bad. The movie would have been much better if they'd just dropped this entire plotline and all of those characters.
As war stories go, this one was partially inclusive of women - there were a handful of women techs/soldiers/engineers and at least two pilots scattered among the huge numbers of men. But we were twenty minutes into the movie before my first sighting of a female.
So, Pacific Rim. What can I say? Not as stupid as Prometheus. Not nearly as enjoyable as Aliens.
Note: there were also two characters who were supposedly Australian. My main reaction to them is "Amazing how many accents this pair have".
June 28, 2013
1337 gaming : Long Live the Queen
So I was playing Remember Me. The graphics are slick, the world (what you see of it) evocative, the gameplay a little similar to mid-period Tomb Raider, but with less puzzle and a great big rail to stop you from doing anything but the designated next step. And I'd just beat the irritating robot boss after a dozen attempts when there it was:
DISC ERROR
3$!#!$!%%!!!!
I reloaded but, no save. Me and Remember Me are on a break right now. I'll probably get back to it eventually.
Now, Remember Me looks like this:
Well, for the brief period that you're not in a tunnel or the slums, anyway. The view of the spray-painted on pants is pretty constant though.
Not in the mood for more shooting and jumping about, I resorted to Facebook games (because, Sulis knows, I wouldn't want to do something like work on my current novel while I had some quality procrastination time on my hands). And somehow I ended up with this:
Long Live the Queen
is apparently a "life simulation" game. "Life simulation" in my case involving a great deal of dying. You're Elodie, a fourteen year-old princess who, after the death of your mother, is frantically studying (apparently for the first time in her life) in order to successfully ascend to her country's throne on her fifteenth birthday. Her Dad, the disturbingly young, "Dowager King", is quite happy to let her self-study and wander about alone, only calling on her occasionally to render judgment on various law-breakers. I'm a bit of a softie, so my version of Elodie only occasionally ruthlessly executed people. Long Live the Queen is HARD. You have two classes each day to try and accrue queenly skills, and every so often something comes along and tries to kill you. If you've foolishly neglected to gain enough skill in whatever would be a good ability for avoiding that particular form of peril, Elodie doesn't make it to her birthday. The game actually reminds me a little of the original Zork. Zork was a text-based adventure where you start standing next to a mailbox, and try to work your way through the world without being eaten by a Grue. I never beat Zork. It amazes me that anyone ever beat Zork. Zork's level of trial-and-error death is in the stratosphere, and you must do everything absolutely correct in order, without a single step out of place, or you run out of turns. I couldn't even beat Zork with a walkthrough (mainly because I ran out of patience). LLtQ is a good deal more forgiving than Zork, and has an addictive quality which is entirely to blame for the zombie-like condition in which I turned up to work on Thursday. Fortunately, I've beaten it now - and I tend not to be a replayer, but I do recommend it for someone tired of spray-painted pants and boss battles which involve lots of dodging and quick time events. It even has a free trial for the curious. And bonus incredibly pink magic girl graphics! And, oh look, a whole string of links to other games. Hmm...
DISC ERROR
3$!#!$!%%!!!!
I reloaded but, no save. Me and Remember Me are on a break right now. I'll probably get back to it eventually.
Now, Remember Me looks like this:
Well, for the brief period that you're not in a tunnel or the slums, anyway. The view of the spray-painted on pants is pretty constant though.
Not in the mood for more shooting and jumping about, I resorted to Facebook games (because, Sulis knows, I wouldn't want to do something like work on my current novel while I had some quality procrastination time on my hands). And somehow I ended up with this:
Long Live the Queen
is apparently a "life simulation" game. "Life simulation" in my case involving a great deal of dying. You're Elodie, a fourteen year-old princess who, after the death of your mother, is frantically studying (apparently for the first time in her life) in order to successfully ascend to her country's throne on her fifteenth birthday. Her Dad, the disturbingly young, "Dowager King", is quite happy to let her self-study and wander about alone, only calling on her occasionally to render judgment on various law-breakers. I'm a bit of a softie, so my version of Elodie only occasionally ruthlessly executed people. Long Live the Queen is HARD. You have two classes each day to try and accrue queenly skills, and every so often something comes along and tries to kill you. If you've foolishly neglected to gain enough skill in whatever would be a good ability for avoiding that particular form of peril, Elodie doesn't make it to her birthday. The game actually reminds me a little of the original Zork. Zork was a text-based adventure where you start standing next to a mailbox, and try to work your way through the world without being eaten by a Grue. I never beat Zork. It amazes me that anyone ever beat Zork. Zork's level of trial-and-error death is in the stratosphere, and you must do everything absolutely correct in order, without a single step out of place, or you run out of turns. I couldn't even beat Zork with a walkthrough (mainly because I ran out of patience). LLtQ is a good deal more forgiving than Zork, and has an addictive quality which is entirely to blame for the zombie-like condition in which I turned up to work on Thursday. Fortunately, I've beaten it now - and I tend not to be a replayer, but I do recommend it for someone tired of spray-painted pants and boss battles which involve lots of dodging and quick time events. It even has a free trial for the curious. And bonus incredibly pink magic girl graphics! And, oh look, a whole string of links to other games. Hmm...
June 14, 2013
Interview & Giveaway at A Novel Idea
There's an interview with me (and a related ebook giveaway) up today at A Novel Idea. Go check it out!
May 31, 2013
Travelling Fantasy Roundtable : Part 15 : Shades of Fantasy
Part 15 of the Travelling Fantasy Round Table, our roaming discussion on aspects of fantasy literature, is up at Deborah J Ross' blog. This month we're discussing the whole range of fantasy - from grim, to gritty. ;)
May 28, 2013
Jill Bond
Ever done the character creation process in a roleplaying game? It usually involves a distribution of points, sometimes combined with dice rolls. Quite a few of the systems will give you more points to spend on positive traits and skills if you 'buy' negative attributes. You have enough points to buy "Driving" and "Swords", but if in addition you want to know a martial art, be a skilled shot, and have some very handy medical skills, you have to balance those skills with something negative.
World of Darkness, the vampire-focused RPG by White Wolf, gives you extra experience (levelling-up points) if you pick a flaw and then role play it well during game play. You can see from this handy list, that some of these flaws are considerably sexier than others. "Lost Love" will give you a very different roleplaying experience compared to "Coward". In some systems you can purchase multiple flaws, potentially creating yourself a one-eyed, mute, addicted, halitosis-inflicted astronaut-ninja-brain surgeon.
Occasionally you'll encounter a game deliberately weighted toward "ridiculous hero", where flaws aren't required, and skills are free. They tend to be fun, over the top but not quite serious games. Every contrivance of plot will be thrown against these characters, but they will overcome because of sheer weight of skill overload.
Most stories attempt to balance their characters similarly, if not so crudely. A main character with some strengths, and some weaknesses, who is 'rounded' by possessing some trait which keeps them from being overly perfect. Anyone who has read widely in the young adult genre will be familiar with the purchase of "clumsy".
But occasionally you want a hero, someone almost over the top with their number of skills and their lack of flaws. You want James Bond. Or Batman. Near-infallible, except for a slight tendency to disobey orders, or angst darkly about dead parents. Their faults are cool faults, they play a long game, plan ahead, go through hell, and are proved right in the end, overcome ambushes, fight long and hard to win, adjust smoothly, and land with a double-pike twist and a cheer from the crowd.
Now. How often have you read a review stating something in the order of: "I couldn't get into this story because the main character was too perfect"? What percentage of the main characters were female?
It's not that we don't have a host of stories featuring Jill Bond, where the kitchen sink is thrown at her and she backflips and kicks it over the goal. But Jill's existence seems to bother many readers. Too often I've seen a story with a Jill Bond, who succeeds and succeeds, and plays that long game, plans ahead, wins at the end…and I'm told that she is the author's darling. Irritating. Unrealistic.
Isn't that the point?
There's a lot of fun to be had with those characters overloaded with all the positive traits, romping through their over-the-top stories. James is fun. Jill is fun.
Jill's name is not Mary Sue. There is room for the Jill Bonds of the fictional world. Let's celebrate them.
World of Darkness, the vampire-focused RPG by White Wolf, gives you extra experience (levelling-up points) if you pick a flaw and then role play it well during game play. You can see from this handy list, that some of these flaws are considerably sexier than others. "Lost Love" will give you a very different roleplaying experience compared to "Coward". In some systems you can purchase multiple flaws, potentially creating yourself a one-eyed, mute, addicted, halitosis-inflicted astronaut-ninja-brain surgeon.
Occasionally you'll encounter a game deliberately weighted toward "ridiculous hero", where flaws aren't required, and skills are free. They tend to be fun, over the top but not quite serious games. Every contrivance of plot will be thrown against these characters, but they will overcome because of sheer weight of skill overload.
Most stories attempt to balance their characters similarly, if not so crudely. A main character with some strengths, and some weaknesses, who is 'rounded' by possessing some trait which keeps them from being overly perfect. Anyone who has read widely in the young adult genre will be familiar with the purchase of "clumsy".
But occasionally you want a hero, someone almost over the top with their number of skills and their lack of flaws. You want James Bond. Or Batman. Near-infallible, except for a slight tendency to disobey orders, or angst darkly about dead parents. Their faults are cool faults, they play a long game, plan ahead, go through hell, and are proved right in the end, overcome ambushes, fight long and hard to win, adjust smoothly, and land with a double-pike twist and a cheer from the crowd.
Now. How often have you read a review stating something in the order of: "I couldn't get into this story because the main character was too perfect"? What percentage of the main characters were female?
It's not that we don't have a host of stories featuring Jill Bond, where the kitchen sink is thrown at her and she backflips and kicks it over the goal. But Jill's existence seems to bother many readers. Too often I've seen a story with a Jill Bond, who succeeds and succeeds, and plays that long game, plans ahead, wins at the end…and I'm told that she is the author's darling. Irritating. Unrealistic.
Isn't that the point?
There's a lot of fun to be had with those characters overloaded with all the positive traits, romping through their over-the-top stories. James is fun. Jill is fun.
Jill's name is not Mary Sue. There is room for the Jill Bonds of the fictional world. Let's celebrate them.
April 21, 2013
Travelling Fantasy Roundtable : Part 14 : The Difference Between Fantasy and Science Fiction
Part 14 of the Travelling Fantasy Round Table, our roaming discussion on aspects of fantasy literature, is up at Valjeanne Jeffer's blog. This month we're talking about the difference between fantasy and science fiction.
April 14, 2013
Bioshock: Infinite (no spoilers)
Bioshock was an amazingly atmospheric game, dark and claustrophobic and twisted and wonderful. Combined with a strong storyline, and solid, inventive gameplay, it's no wonder it attracted a big fanbase. I'd say Bioshock: Infinite surpasses the original in terms of atmosphere, has an equally compelling storyline, and I found I enjoyed the gameplay a little more (there was a lot of changing up of what you needed to do, and whizzing around on those skylines was a huge amount of fun).
On the negative side, this is most definitely a story on rails. Once or twice you have an impression that you might be making significant choices, but this is a skyline with only one destination (and, sadly, one which I found a touch on the predictable side both concerning Elizabeth's nature, and Booker's future). Still, the story, which revolves around a Pinkerton detective named Booker DeWitt sent to retrieve a powerful girl named Elizabeth is very engrossing.
The game world itself it uncomfortable to experience. A glorious city in the sky - full of over-the-top patriotism, strict gender roles, racism, indoctrination and a leader who happily positions himself as god of his own realm. Aspects of that worldbuilding, and the lack of choice in the storyline - particularly some of the people you end up fighting against and slaughtering - makes for some uncomfortable gameplay. Bad enough to be killing off every policeperson in the repressive state, but there's also little choice in who else you end up killing (I say policeperson because, oddly, despite being a strongly patriarchal city, there were a lot of female soldiers).
Elizabeth is an interesting conundrum. She's a young girl, full of book learning, who has been kept in a tower and subjected to cruel experiments. The story is the classic "older cynical man 'shepherds' naive young woman to face tough realities and the question of whether she should kill". When you first find her, the game goes out of its way to reassure you that you don't have to worry about Elizabeth during combat - "she can take care of herself". By this, the game means she can hide behind the nearest solid object, make eeping noises, and occasionally toss you ammo or materialise items. The only person she attempts to fight is Booker himself, and she's more than effective dealing with him on both occasions that she needs to.
Of course, this is a gameplay choice - making the player the active one - but I think I would have rated the game even higher if Elizabeth picked up a gun and shot things as well and we got to switch back and forth between playing Booker and playing Elizabeth. I didn't think much of her shying away from killing while Booker slaughtered thousands while rescuing her.
I preferred the original Bioshock's Little Sisters, who, while still being rescued (or not), gave the impression they would defend themselves against more than the player character. Still, Bioshock: Infinite is several steps up from a game like Ico, where you literally had to lead the girl around by the hand, and she would curl up into a ball if you let her go. (Ico is another beautifully atmospheric game with a strong story, but questionable girl action.) B: I is well recommended, but also made me glad for games like Dragon Age, and doubly happy that the upcoming Torment game is going to let you play the main character as female.
On the negative side, this is most definitely a story on rails. Once or twice you have an impression that you might be making significant choices, but this is a skyline with only one destination (and, sadly, one which I found a touch on the predictable side both concerning Elizabeth's nature, and Booker's future). Still, the story, which revolves around a Pinkerton detective named Booker DeWitt sent to retrieve a powerful girl named Elizabeth is very engrossing.
The game world itself it uncomfortable to experience. A glorious city in the sky - full of over-the-top patriotism, strict gender roles, racism, indoctrination and a leader who happily positions himself as god of his own realm. Aspects of that worldbuilding, and the lack of choice in the storyline - particularly some of the people you end up fighting against and slaughtering - makes for some uncomfortable gameplay. Bad enough to be killing off every policeperson in the repressive state, but there's also little choice in who else you end up killing (I say policeperson because, oddly, despite being a strongly patriarchal city, there were a lot of female soldiers).
Elizabeth is an interesting conundrum. She's a young girl, full of book learning, who has been kept in a tower and subjected to cruel experiments. The story is the classic "older cynical man 'shepherds' naive young woman to face tough realities and the question of whether she should kill". When you first find her, the game goes out of its way to reassure you that you don't have to worry about Elizabeth during combat - "she can take care of herself". By this, the game means she can hide behind the nearest solid object, make eeping noises, and occasionally toss you ammo or materialise items. The only person she attempts to fight is Booker himself, and she's more than effective dealing with him on both occasions that she needs to.
Of course, this is a gameplay choice - making the player the active one - but I think I would have rated the game even higher if Elizabeth picked up a gun and shot things as well and we got to switch back and forth between playing Booker and playing Elizabeth. I didn't think much of her shying away from killing while Booker slaughtered thousands while rescuing her.
I preferred the original Bioshock's Little Sisters, who, while still being rescued (or not), gave the impression they would defend themselves against more than the player character. Still, Bioshock: Infinite is several steps up from a game like Ico, where you literally had to lead the girl around by the hand, and she would curl up into a ball if you let her go. (Ico is another beautifully atmospheric game with a strong story, but questionable girl action.) B: I is well recommended, but also made me glad for games like Dragon Age, and doubly happy that the upcoming Torment game is going to let you play the main character as female.
April 12, 2013
Managing the self-publisher's chip
When I'm asked about self-publishing vs trade publishing, I'll list strengths and weaknesses of both options, and strongly recommend Kristine Kathryn Rusch's "Business Rusch" series of blog posts. Rusch is a hybrid author and has invaluable information on traps and issues which face both trade and self-published writers. Even if you're intending to only follow a trade publishing path, reading Rusch (and her commenters) on issues with various contract clauses can potentially save you an infinite amount of grief.
But one thing Rusch doesn't cover in great detail is disdain.
Yes, attitudes towards self-publishing are changing, and self-publishers can put out books and try to gain an audience. A tiny minority are stunningly successful (in the millions of dollars territory), a solid number are able to become full-time writers, and a far larger body hover around my level - enough that it's a viable second income, but not enough to give up the day job (rather like many trade published writers). And there's plenty of people self-publishing who don't sell at all - either because they don't write very well, write in an extremely niche area, package their books poorly, or are just unlucky. Self-publishing is no more a guaranteed path to success than that old saw: "If you write a good enough book, and keep submitting it, it will get published".
Even successful self-published books are often treated as "not good, just successful", and one thing most self-publishers have in common is the need to deal with scorn, hostility, derisive comments and - worst of all - complete indifference.
Many self-publishers have come from submitting their books to trade publishing and receiving either form rejections or frustrating "almosts". Years of it. Decades. And going into self-publishing, they will face not only the apparently insurmountable task of interesting readers in their books, but also people who state "I don't read self-published books at all", or "I only read self-published books by trade published authors" and forums which (burned by a flood of over-the-top self-promotion) have strict "don't mention your books" rules. And that's not even starting on the direct mocking.
Any person facing a long negative experience is likely to build up at least a small chip on their shoulder. This past week demonstrated that even enormous success will not necessarily remove that chip. Hugh Howey - one of the most successful self-publishers out there, with a major movie deal, a print-only book deal, and promotion which includes airport placement (ie. someone who is more successful than the vast majority of trade published writers) - posted a now-deleted blog entry entitled "The Bitch from Worldcon".
The blog post demonstrated two things: Howey has no comprehension of offensively gendered language, and Howey is carrying around an enormous 'self-publisher's chip'. The story involves Howey playing incognito at a recent science fiction and fantasy convention, listening to a very rude person dismiss self-publishing, and gloating to himself (and later to his blog readers) over the secret knowledge of his own success, while indulging in a little power fantasy of, basically, rubbing his detractor's face in it.
Enormous success obviously hasn't made the resentment go away. And the negativity toward self-publishing and self-publishers isn't going to go away either. It's now just couched in terms which include "outliers" and "popular but bad" and "cult-like mentality" or "self-publishing is really really really hard and most of you will fail at it". If you label yourself a self-publisher, the attitudes toward the group as a whole will shower down upon you, no matter your opinion of trade publishing, or the quality of your writing.
I'm not immune to self-publisher's chip. It bugs me when people make statements about the quality of my books without having read them. And I'm strongly aware of not being "part of the conversation" in the SFF world. One of my clearest memories as a writer will always be the 2010 Aurealis Awards. Sitting in a big auditorium full of people, watching my book's cover flash up on screen as a finalist for Best Fantasy Novel. It was an amazing feeling. And then I thought: "The only people in this entire room who have read that book are the judges."
Strategies for managing self-publisher's chip will vary from writer to writer, depending on the particular negativity being faced at the time. I can only share the methods I use to keep that chip in check:
1. Focus on the good bits
I might not be a bestselling self-publisher, but in many ways I'm an incredibly fortunate one. I've had some external validation thanks to those (highly discerning!) Aurealis judges, which in the worst moments I can point to and say: "See! See! Not rubbish!"
I have a small core of readers who have liked my work enough to consider themselves fans. And they tell other people they should look at my books. Or they just send me an email saying how much they liked them. And that is an astonishingly wonderful thing.
I do read my negative reviews, but I save them up, get them over with like a dose of medicine, and move on. Spending energy on negative reviews of your book is like stabbing yourself in the knee.
2. Care less about other people's decisions
Self-publishing is a wonderful option, but I don't evangelise it, and I accept that readers might use it as a criteria to winnow down the millions of books available to them. Ultimately, it matters very little if a particular individual avoids self-publishing.
It's incredibly hard to do this when you're just starting out, and no-one is reading you. It makes you feel like you'll never be read, that you're unfairly penalised, that it's all hopeless. It will be even harder if your writing isn't quite there yet, and you've rushed to self-publishing perhaps before you're ready for a critical audience. If nothing else, you can fall back on an "Hey, at least I have nice copies of my books on my bookshelf" attitude.
3. Don't try to be part of the conversation
This is probably the hardest one for me. I like talking about SFF, and I'd certainly like to see my books considered part of the conversation in discussions of the genre, but one of the first lessons self-publishers learn is "don't talk about your own books outside your own blog". I sometimes stray on this one - I'll see someone posting or tweeting: "I'm looking for SFF examples of X". "There's hardly any SFF which does X, please someone give me examples!" And eventually, against my better judgment, I'll be drawn in, and respond with two of three examples, including a book of my own which does precisely what the person is looking for. And it seems like every time I do this, the person asking for examples will meticulously thank every single person for their suggestions - except for that pushy self-publisher, of course.
That's my chip in action.
4. Think long term
Self-publishing inverts the trade publishing model where pre-release buzz is built up, there's a mass burst of publicity on release, and the book has to sell sufficiently in its first year (or months) to keep the author's career alive. If I judged my likely success on my first few months after release (where I sold only a handful of books), then I'd be an abject failure. Except for the rare instant successes, self-publishers aren't really in a position to judge their careers for at least a couple of years. And you never know if your next book might be your break out book, which in turn will juice your sluggishly selling backlist.
When I started I had an idea of a "five year plan". My first book went live in October 2010, so I won't really be able to judge how I'm going till October 2015, but the view from April 2013 is pretty good.
5. Next book?
Disinterest and occasional outbreaks of vitriol toward self-publishers are far easier for me to deal with than the immense negativity I suffered submitting books which never went anywhere, because it's balanced by lots of lovely positives. And the biggest positive is the knowledge that there are readers out there waiting for my next book.
And so in conclusion I seem to be saying much the same as what most of the self-publishing advice posts say: The best thing to do is put your head down and write!
But one thing Rusch doesn't cover in great detail is disdain.
Yes, attitudes towards self-publishing are changing, and self-publishers can put out books and try to gain an audience. A tiny minority are stunningly successful (in the millions of dollars territory), a solid number are able to become full-time writers, and a far larger body hover around my level - enough that it's a viable second income, but not enough to give up the day job (rather like many trade published writers). And there's plenty of people self-publishing who don't sell at all - either because they don't write very well, write in an extremely niche area, package their books poorly, or are just unlucky. Self-publishing is no more a guaranteed path to success than that old saw: "If you write a good enough book, and keep submitting it, it will get published".
Even successful self-published books are often treated as "not good, just successful", and one thing most self-publishers have in common is the need to deal with scorn, hostility, derisive comments and - worst of all - complete indifference.
Many self-publishers have come from submitting their books to trade publishing and receiving either form rejections or frustrating "almosts". Years of it. Decades. And going into self-publishing, they will face not only the apparently insurmountable task of interesting readers in their books, but also people who state "I don't read self-published books at all", or "I only read self-published books by trade published authors" and forums which (burned by a flood of over-the-top self-promotion) have strict "don't mention your books" rules. And that's not even starting on the direct mocking.
Any person facing a long negative experience is likely to build up at least a small chip on their shoulder. This past week demonstrated that even enormous success will not necessarily remove that chip. Hugh Howey - one of the most successful self-publishers out there, with a major movie deal, a print-only book deal, and promotion which includes airport placement (ie. someone who is more successful than the vast majority of trade published writers) - posted a now-deleted blog entry entitled "The Bitch from Worldcon".
The blog post demonstrated two things: Howey has no comprehension of offensively gendered language, and Howey is carrying around an enormous 'self-publisher's chip'. The story involves Howey playing incognito at a recent science fiction and fantasy convention, listening to a very rude person dismiss self-publishing, and gloating to himself (and later to his blog readers) over the secret knowledge of his own success, while indulging in a little power fantasy of, basically, rubbing his detractor's face in it.
Enormous success obviously hasn't made the resentment go away. And the negativity toward self-publishing and self-publishers isn't going to go away either. It's now just couched in terms which include "outliers" and "popular but bad" and "cult-like mentality" or "self-publishing is really really really hard and most of you will fail at it". If you label yourself a self-publisher, the attitudes toward the group as a whole will shower down upon you, no matter your opinion of trade publishing, or the quality of your writing.
I'm not immune to self-publisher's chip. It bugs me when people make statements about the quality of my books without having read them. And I'm strongly aware of not being "part of the conversation" in the SFF world. One of my clearest memories as a writer will always be the 2010 Aurealis Awards. Sitting in a big auditorium full of people, watching my book's cover flash up on screen as a finalist for Best Fantasy Novel. It was an amazing feeling. And then I thought: "The only people in this entire room who have read that book are the judges."
Strategies for managing self-publisher's chip will vary from writer to writer, depending on the particular negativity being faced at the time. I can only share the methods I use to keep that chip in check:
1. Focus on the good bits
I might not be a bestselling self-publisher, but in many ways I'm an incredibly fortunate one. I've had some external validation thanks to those (highly discerning!) Aurealis judges, which in the worst moments I can point to and say: "See! See! Not rubbish!"
I have a small core of readers who have liked my work enough to consider themselves fans. And they tell other people they should look at my books. Or they just send me an email saying how much they liked them. And that is an astonishingly wonderful thing.
I do read my negative reviews, but I save them up, get them over with like a dose of medicine, and move on. Spending energy on negative reviews of your book is like stabbing yourself in the knee.
2. Care less about other people's decisions
Self-publishing is a wonderful option, but I don't evangelise it, and I accept that readers might use it as a criteria to winnow down the millions of books available to them. Ultimately, it matters very little if a particular individual avoids self-publishing.
It's incredibly hard to do this when you're just starting out, and no-one is reading you. It makes you feel like you'll never be read, that you're unfairly penalised, that it's all hopeless. It will be even harder if your writing isn't quite there yet, and you've rushed to self-publishing perhaps before you're ready for a critical audience. If nothing else, you can fall back on an "Hey, at least I have nice copies of my books on my bookshelf" attitude.
3. Don't try to be part of the conversation
This is probably the hardest one for me. I like talking about SFF, and I'd certainly like to see my books considered part of the conversation in discussions of the genre, but one of the first lessons self-publishers learn is "don't talk about your own books outside your own blog". I sometimes stray on this one - I'll see someone posting or tweeting: "I'm looking for SFF examples of X". "There's hardly any SFF which does X, please someone give me examples!" And eventually, against my better judgment, I'll be drawn in, and respond with two of three examples, including a book of my own which does precisely what the person is looking for. And it seems like every time I do this, the person asking for examples will meticulously thank every single person for their suggestions - except for that pushy self-publisher, of course.
That's my chip in action.
4. Think long term
Self-publishing inverts the trade publishing model where pre-release buzz is built up, there's a mass burst of publicity on release, and the book has to sell sufficiently in its first year (or months) to keep the author's career alive. If I judged my likely success on my first few months after release (where I sold only a handful of books), then I'd be an abject failure. Except for the rare instant successes, self-publishers aren't really in a position to judge their careers for at least a couple of years. And you never know if your next book might be your break out book, which in turn will juice your sluggishly selling backlist.
When I started I had an idea of a "five year plan". My first book went live in October 2010, so I won't really be able to judge how I'm going till October 2015, but the view from April 2013 is pretty good.
5. Next book?
Disinterest and occasional outbreaks of vitriol toward self-publishers are far easier for me to deal with than the immense negativity I suffered submitting books which never went anywhere, because it's balanced by lots of lovely positives. And the biggest positive is the knowledge that there are readers out there waiting for my next book.
And so in conclusion I seem to be saying much the same as what most of the self-publishing advice posts say: The best thing to do is put your head down and write!
