Dr. Dume ~ The Doctor is In

I finally pinned down what makes me so uncomfortable in most fantasy tales. It's the passage of time--lots of it--with no progress.

A common element in fantasy is the Great Hero with his magic sword. Nothing wrong in that - but the backstory is the killer. It usually goes along the lines of 'Ten thousand years ago, a Mighty King rode his horse, led an army armed with swords, bow, spears and axes into battle and had the shit royally kicked out of him. Now his vengeful descendant (or the Bad Guy reborn, more often) wants to take over the world and make everyone suffer'.

Okay. I'm fine so far.

BUT if ten thousand years have passed, why is the hero STILL riding a horse, STILL fighting with a sword, STILL wearing leather armour?

Why doesn't he have an enchanted tank, or a blessed F-15? At the very least, a magical Uzi.

There is no gunpowder. No guns. No cannons. Not so much as a trebuchet. No internal combustion engine. Not even a steam engine. Few wheels, if it comes to that.

Now, this is a world that's been at war for most of its long existence. You'd think at least one of the people in it might try to improve their chances of winning. Wars accelerate development of things like jet engines, rockets, radar: anything that would give an edge over the enemy.

In fantasy? Nothing. The entire world is populated by unthinking, uninventive dolts. The bad guy deserves to win. He's the only one who's made any effort. He's the one with the war machines.

You can have magic, raising the dead, mysterious gods, all of that, but please, please let your world invent things. Instead of a flaming torch, just once let's see your elf pull out a flashlight. Maybe just a folding pocket knife? A pair of pliers? Scissors?

Anything to prove the world you've created isn't utterly stagnant.

Posted by Dr. Dume at 02:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

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Isn't that the most wonderful name for any creature? The real thing is less imposing than the Slimy Swamp Thing, but the name wins hands down.

They have another name, because of the slime they exude. The snot-otter. How can one animal have two such fantastic names? It's unfair.

I'd try to introduce them into the swamp, but they need clean water. We don't have much of that here. Not with Stumpy around.

Posted by Dr. Dume at 03:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

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There's a man in Russia destined to die in jail. He's the 'Chessboard Killer', who has been sentenced to life for killing 48 people, although he claims to have killed 63.

He thinks his sentence is too harsh. Well, he was only convicted of 48 killings. That leaves another 15 to pin on him yet. Since he already has a life sentence, what else can they do to him? An afterlife sentence? Reducing the time for the first 48 does at least allow the law room to punish him some more.

Somehow I doubt any appeal court will be able to keep a straight face.

He earned his title of 'Chessboard Killer' after letting it be known that he wanted to kill one person for each of the 64 squares on a chessboard.

They caught him at 63. That's harsh. Surely that's punishment enough? Let him try for one more, then lock him up.

What a story idea though. A serial killer, jailed just before he finishes his spree. One more victim and he could retire for ever. Serial killers are hard to catch when they're active, almost impossible to catch if they stop. One more and he'd have been there. Retired. Vanished. A success.

Will he try to escape to fill his board, or will one of the other inmates suffice? What do you think?

Doesn't it set your writing fingers a-tingle?

Posted by Dr. Dume at 08:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

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