Mike is back for a new season of Gentlemanly Chats! With an explanation for his absence and a series of deep shower thoughts the “Slice of Life” Podcast is back with a vengeance.
6 Video Game Campaigns with Epic Stories.
Multiplayer seems to overshadow game narrative these days but we at Geek Pride do enjoy a good story and so we thought we’d put our heads together again and list 6 Game campaigns that were truely epic.
Make sure to let us know in the comments if you agree or if you think there should be others.
Matt’s choice
Halo – Reach
The last hurrah for Bungie before they left their baby, Halo, behind and moved onto new things…. and man did they go out with a bang.
Halo reach is arguably still on of the greatest Halo games out, and part, if not a lot of that, is down to the engaging and down right heart wrenching Campaign story, something 343 have struggled to surpass; though coming close with the end of Halo 4.
There is no Master Chief, but a completely new team, something that for a lot of Halo fans was a big shock. BUT where Bungie succeeded in Reach and 343 failed in Halo 5, was giving their characters, their team, depth, background, a sense of belonging and the player a real emotional ride.as each team member is killed / sacrifices themselves. Culminating in the final battle, after the credits, where you, as noble 6, fight off a horde of elites and are overwhelmed. Your over shield is depleted your health runs low and Noble 6 takes of his / her helmet and places it on the ground.
You are inevitably killed and the camera shows you your final moment but your sacrifice allows the Pillar of Autumn to escape with the Master chief and Cortana on board… the scene ends with the helmet on a decimated Reach and as time goes by the green returns; an allegory for Bungie’s transition to pastures.
Callum Tyndall
The Witcher 3
Witcher 3 wrapped up a series that achieved a truly epic scope, bringing together the disparate elements in the most cohesive version yet and delivering meaningful conclusions to a host of characters from across the franchise. In a lot of ways, this is the series at its best and it managed to expand further with DLCs that contained more story than most regular games managed to fit in.
Perhaps the greatest triumph though is its environmental storytelling, the way in which the world tells a million smaller stories without shoving everything into your face. From battlefields that don’t lead you there with a sidequest to the folklore overheard in passing, this is the world of the Witcher at its most vibrant and your passage through it as Geralt is perhaps the most iconic representation of the character within the series and tells probably the most Witcher story yet.
Mark Canty
Digital: A Love Story
I’m thinking of something a little more Lo Fi – Has anyone ever played Digital: A Love Story by Christine Love? she writes some really intense visual novel type indie games. Digital is set in the Faux 80s – “five minutes into the future of 1988”, and emulates you dialling into BBSes to read and reply to messages… Doesn’t see m like much, right? Blue and White Text and crude windows, Modem sound effects….
You have your first computer, and a modem, and discover BBSes, and you start a conversation with girl, Emilia, online, via text messages left on a BBS by one of you and collected by the other – Back and forth, with little segues of time, you develop affection for her, and she seems to be returning them… Then the BBS you’re talking on dies, and you’re left bereft. A garbled message that gets to you, and a load of weird garbled data is supposedly from Emilia, and leads you to to look for more information – You learn that across the world a number of AIs have been mysteriously killed, and Emilia is one of them that is named. It’s a bit of a shock, but you dig deeper, and learn more – Even finding a way to bring Emilia back to life by recompiling her – Great, right.
Except she, and the others, were killed by something – *Reaper – That’s hunting the other AIs – Emilia’s Brothers and Sisters, and while they have a way to kill it, it means someone – an AI – effectively becoming the weapon and sacrificing themself.
So you’re actually remarkably invested at this point, but Emilia wants to sacrifice herself to save her Family, and let them grow, and become more than they already are, and somehow you realise that she can’t do it if she doesn’t think you’re with her on it – And so you lose her again, and it’s awful, but it’s glorious at the same time, even though you know she’s not coming back… And then it stops and leaves you staring at a blue screen, and you realise it’s only been a couple of hours, but you’re all hollow chested and maybe even a little teary eyed – About a fictional AI…… No flashy graphics, no orchestral sound effect. just awesome plotting, good writing and great packing in white text on a blue background… And you want to do it again.
Joe McGuinness
Call of Duty: Modern Warfare
Modern Warfare was a surprise to me as it was a FPS game I actually enjoyed playing, but I found the narrative strength of the game really engaging above everything else. Who knew – CoD could be more than just shooty shooty, stabby stabby? Not me, evidently. In any case, in a series packed with climatic scenes right from the get-go, with the intense opener on the freighter, the one that really shocked and surprised me was playing as Jackson throughout ‘Shock and Awe’.
Battling through Al-Asad’s capital and heroically rescuing the downed pilot of a Cobra mid-extraction leads you to a high that is spectacularly vaporised by the nuclear warhead that detonates at the climax of the level, killing everyone you’ve fought so hard to keep alive. A true sucker-punch if I’ve ever felt one, cleverly utilised by running parallel narrative threads and capitalising on the player’s connection to the character via the mode of first-person.
Bevan Clatworthy
Dante’s Inferno.
Based on the epic poem of the same name, the hero of the piece Dante is re imagined as a knight Templar. Upon is return from the crusades, he finds his beloved Beatrice and his father have been murdered, with Lucifer himself appearing to take Beatrice’s soul away to hell.
Cue a legendary adventure as Dante journeys deeper through the nine circles of hell (after nicking Death’s scythe, obvs) to try and rescue his loved one from the lord pf darkness himself.
The story is one word: epic. At the beginning you start with a hero of the wars, a man of honour and principle returning in valour to marry the love of his life. But as the game progresses you discover some sordid details that show Dante’s soul is more tarnished than twinkling. Thoroughly adult in it’s theming and with twists and turns that keep you engaged, this is for me the perfect marriage of fast paced story telling and gameplay that just keeps pulling you forward.
I also love the liberties this takes on the original poem, which is reflected by the amazing level design and the enemies you encounter (seriously, tiny unbaptised baby demons, *shudder*). This is backed up with high quality voice acting that makes you really *feel* the anger of Dante and the wisdom of Vergil (who acts as your narrator during the game).
Dave Foy
Red Dead Redemption (2010).
I really didn’t know what to expect from Red Dead Redemption when it dropped in the Spring of 2010. I knew it was produced by Rockstar, so I anticipated the general narrative and core game play to fall into the typical Grand Theft Auto template (“GTA with horses” was a common description used by almost all of the games magazines at the time) – and I knew it would obviously have an Old West setting, which I expected not to hold my interest as much as the sprawling metropolises of contemporary sandbox games like GTA or Saints Row. I mean, how much fun would it be to be a criminal attempting to build an empire, when all you have are vast empty deserts which you have to traverse on slow-ass badly animated horses (no game had ever really got the feel of riding a horse, and the associated animation, correct before RDR).
How wrong was I…
Red Dead Redemption is a masterpiece. One of the most brilliantly conceived and executed games of the last generation; it transcended the scope of previous Rockstar releases, and also introduced the more mature direction that subsequent projects (such as L.A. Noire and the juggernaut Grand Theft Auto V) have followed.
Players stepped into the dirt-coated boots of John Marston, a former outlaw who has given up on a life of villainy in order to raise a family. Marston is brought back into his gun-slinging ways by the local government, who use his family as leverage to coerce him to eliminate his former partners in crime. So far, so typical Rockstar protagonist (former criminal tries to go legitimate, but is drawn back into crime through revenge/threat of violence/etc) – but Marston feels distinctly different from CJ, Niko or Tommy Vercetti.
They were all unshackled ‘loner’ type characters whose sole purpose was driven by their own individualistic wants and needs – they may have some token friends or extended family members, but they were easily forgotten in the character’s (and player’s) quest to gain more property and better looking cars. Marston’s every action is driven by his desire to see his family again, while seemingly struggling with the appeal of his old outlaw life. It’s this characterisation and associated story arc that invests the player more deeply into the game.
Yes, the hunting and plant collecting got a bit bothersome after a while; yes, the game’s tendency to throw in random frequent pop-up missions (such as breaking up a lynching, or chasing down an escaped convict) right while you’re in the middle of something else, was more than a little frustrating – but these are small criticisms of an otherwise amazing gaming experience.
The wealth of incredibly entertaining and diverse storyline missions, combined with an excellent supporting cast (my personal favourite being Bonnie McFarlane – an intelligent, gutsy and fully-fleshed female character, a million miles away from the multitude of prostitutes, bikini-clad bimbos and other highly sexualised stereotypes that plague females in modern gaming), and an absolute gut-punch of a false ending – made RDR a critical and commercial success.
Throw in a much improved 3rd-person combat system (including the ‘dead eye’ duelling mechanic), an unexpectedly great zombie horror expansion pack (Undead Nightmare is a ton of fun), and plenty of scope for free exploration, which adds to the game’s longevity.
I can’t describe the endless pleasure of taking a ride into an open range, with the fantastic Morricone-influenced soundtrack playing in the background, all while a perfectly animated sun-set transitions into beautiful night sky punctured by a blanket of stars. Absolute gaming bliss.
Dust and Decay – Chapter 9 – By Sean P. Wallace
Want to know what’s happening? The first book Dust and Sand was serialised here at Geek Pride. A summary is available here. You can also buy the definitive edition of Dust and Sand at all good eBook stores.
Dust took to his heels and made a break for the tunnel he entered through. Through blackened fangs, shrieks filled the stinking air. He fired almost blindly into the heavens as he ran, taking only brief glances at the legions emerging from above. His aim was good, but he would’ve killed more if he’d stood still.
Carriers howled as they died far above him, but he was shaving by cutting one hair at a time. And he had maybe thirty seconds before claws hardened over centuries reached for him. Worse, these Carriers were taller than the others. Slenderer with multi-jointed limbs and teeth overflowing from their mouths, every trace of who they’d once been rotted away. The vanguard.
The Gift cackled. The damn thing was confident it had enough Carriers to crush Dust. Maybe just through sheer weight. He couldn’t say it was wrong.
Dust made it to the tunnel, grateful he’d had enough pace to get this far. Encompassing rock narrowed the field of battle, negating the Carriers’ aerial advantage. It was a small measure, but he now had nowhere to go if things went south.
“Better keep ’em facing north then.”
Dust turned and unleashed his fury. His hands danced as he fired into the swarm, rolling his other gun’s chamber to keep the Word primed. Scores of Carriers crumpled under his burning attentions, but more waited to take their place, stepping over burning remains to get just a little closer to him than the fallen.
The Gift shouted indistinct orders, a distant murmur. The Carriers spread out of his line of sight. Approached from above and either side. Dust caught his breath, reloaded his other gun, and stood ready to fire.
Another murmured set of orders. The Carriers advanced again. Instead of surging forward in clumps, they advanced in a staggered formation. Came toward him from different angles, at different times. A good strategy. Better, anyway.
Still, he fended them off. Old and powerful though the Carriers were, they were weak from decades of inactivity and hunger. This was no vanguard. Thankfully. A stern wind might’ve fought as well as Dust. He couldn’t figure out why the Gift wasted their forces with such a futile effort. One never that’d never win.
At least, until he saw the cavern’s many stalagmites also shift. Then he understood: the Gift was testing him, and perhaps its forces after so long ruling over an empty city, with a fraction of its troops. When it’d gauged his strength, and let him tire himself out, it would attack with a force large enough to take him down and not a Carrier more.
Damn good tactic, really, he admitted between jarring shots.
More Carriers shook off their rock coating in the distance, maybe a thousand lining up like eager children at dinner time. To survive, he’d have to try out his other gun’s new spells.
The Teotek’d taught him much since they’d taken him in. Hell, Dust could spend a lifetime amongst them and still learn every day. One such lesson included directions for forging a connection between his other gun and his tattoo, allowing Resistance to feed it power. Another one, which’d come mostly from Father Kilkenny but the Teotek had refined, was how to use the parts of his soul still connected to him for each shot.
He hadn’t tried that second one out yet. But he might die if he didn’t.
Dust touched the new spell markers carved into his other gun between shots, building the connection to his tattoo. He fired three more times as the runes warmed, killing five Carriers, and begged Resistance for power. Begged not to be an example to the Teotek.
There was no response. “Damn you, come on!”
Dust cursed but he understood Resistance wasn’t at his beck and call. Just like he wasn’t at its. In the meantime, he activated other runes and let his other gun draw upon his shredded soul. A wrenching drain followed, like how having your intestines slowly withdrawn might feel.
Discomfort was no excuse to relent. Dust pumped the reeking Carriers full of magic containing his soul. Burned them away, back to the ashes they should be. Each shot was far more powerful, but not yet strong enough to take out every shambling, silt-covered thing roaring toward him.
He begged Resistance again for magic. Still no response.
The foremost Carriers grew close enough to strike. To rake him with fingers that once stroked lovers, once wove clothes, once picked up babes. Melting Flesh had taken everything from them and left them at the Gift’s mercy. It infuriated Dust, seeing their degradation and abuse. But it also saddened him. None’d asked for or accepted this. They were victims. Rotting innocents.
That was when Resistance responded. A glut of magic that immediately flowed into his other gun to mixed with that of his Word and the power from his remaining soul. His gun vibrated like a wild horse galloped inside it, needing him to use both hands to aim.
The closest Carrier swiped a ragged claw at him.
“Sorry,” Dust said before he pulled the trigger.
The world went red, purest damn colour he’d ever seen. The nearest Carriers disintegrated before they could even react. Crimson power rolled past them, erasing their comrades. Escaping the passageway, the magic spread out, catching every Carrier in the cavern. They had enough time to hiss or squeal before the torrent of magic ripped through them.
Dust’s eyes watered at the growing stench of death and rot. Over his attack’s dull roar, he heard the rock ceiling and walls being ripped away by gale-strength force.
The redness passed. Silence followed. Peace.
His Word was a damn strong base to amplify, something which the rest of his soul had done gleefully. But his tattoo’d knocked the effect up to the stratosphere: alongside their destruction, all dark magic’d been cleared from the Carriers, leaving only their bones behind. A thousand skeletons littered the ground, like a graveyard had thrown up.
Dust sighed in relief. He was safe.
Time took its toll on the ribs, skulls, and femurs: they crumbled into choking clouds. At last, the people of Kehuadinune had some peace. He would have to let Chief Fighting Storm know. Well, once he’d properly cleared the place out.
Dust dropped the spells boosting his other gun and stepped into the cavern. He’d been wrong about his victory: a few Carriers remained, but they were fleeing, much to the Gift’s disgust. It shouted at them with all the futility of a defeated General, curses and wounded roars.
He grinned, enjoying its anguish. Then the floor rose to greet him. A jagged kiss to the chin which shook his whole body. Damn if he hadn’t fallen like a drunk on pay day! He didn’t have Father Kilkenny’s faith, or a complete soul, so drawing on that power’d drained him. Not in the normal way, like regenerating, but a soul tiredness, the weariness of a grandmother who’d outlived her grandchildren. It was a readiness for the end.
Dust sighed and rose on shaking feet. Blood dripped from his chin. There would be no end today for him. He was the Wanting Man. Much as he might desire release, he couldn’t get any, not whilst things like the Gift still roamed the world. Until then, he could want all he damn well pleased, but Resistance wasn’t done with him.
“You fought well,” the Gift whispered as Dust struggled forward. “Your ruse worked. I thought you were fleeing, but your power was greater than I imagined.”
Dust raised his other gun and fired at the Gift. The shot ricocheted back past him.
“You seek to kill me?”
Dust did want to kill the Gift. Really damn badly. And not just for petty reasons: the only way it could maintain and control that many Carriers was with a strong power source. One like the cage it lived in, built to solidly deflect the magic of the Three, else the Gift couldn’t have influenced the outside world. As such, the golden bowl must be in its cage.
Dust fired at a different point of the shielding. The bullet deflected again. Green flames became infernos. He followed the ripples of their power to analyse the trap’s layout. How it operated. It seemed the only way to get at the Gift was to destroy the torches. They fed the protection, burning the strength it expelled with each flex or tainted belch.
“Death may not be awful,” the Gift mused. “Death may be a blessing.”
“Then I’ll be damn glad to give you that blessing.”
Dust approached the nearest torch. Examined it properly. Ideally, he wanted to weaken the magic around the Gift without destroying it outright. Keep the thing caged long enough for him to take careful aim. Like shooting fish in a barrel. He didn’t immediately see a way to do that, but little was so simple you can understand it at first blush.
“You do not understand me: death may be a blessing for you, Man Who Wants.”
Dust stopped his examination. “How do you know my name?”
The Gift chuckled. “Hear me, thing of Resistance. You might be better dying here at my hand than experiencing what is ahead of you.”
“And what’s ahead of me?”
The Gift said something Dust didn’t understand. A word that didn’t seem like a name. It laughed afterwards, loud and happy, like it’d told a great joke.
Dust waited to see whether it’d say anything more. It didn’t seem ready to. Damn thing was probably just trying to put some fear in him. Force him to make a mistake. Fighting to the last, as anyone would.
Anyone. Yeah, the Gift’d once been a person, so it’d still behave like one. Maybe only at a base level after centuries of corruption by Melting Flesh, but human in some ways nonetheless. Much as he didn’t like being laughed at or toyed with, he understood it.
The biggest thing he’d been learning from Penelope and Shadows Fade was how to remove spite and anger from his duties. Most of it, any road. It was hard when people were involved, particularly innocents, but it was fair. As Penelope’d said, many things of the Three never asked for their corruption. Even the ones who did mightn’t have had a choice, either through desperation, torture, or idiocy. Better to be dispassionate but firm. To be just.
“I know what you’re doing. It ain’t gonna work.”
“You do what you must, Man Who Wants,” the Gift said with a chuckle.
The torches were too intricate to identify a weakness. Careful overkill, then. Dust shot the nearest fire four times. Two magics of Resistance flared, crackling lightning and low whistles. His shots won out and the torch’s wooden frame evaporated. Its green fire hung in the air a while before fading, taking the other six fires with it.
Dust used the moment before the cage fell to reload and aim. Then the magic barrier dissipated. A pale, bloated form rolled out like jelly, oozing, sliding. Before the Gift could enjoy its freedom, Dust unleashed six shots between its coffin-sized eyes. Each dug further into its spongy forehead until the final shot seared through the Gift’s brain.
The Gift howled. Dark magic spurted from its wound like a damn’d burst. Once more, Dust was bathed in corrupting taint. His teeth fell out and his tongue withered in his mouth. His newly-formed eyebrows fell like flour from a pierced bag. It hurt like nothing he’d ever known, with the pain of his recovery added, but these were the Gift’s death throes. It did not last long.
The Gift fell into laughter. It repeated that unidentifiable term as its vital magics sprayed out into the cavern. Then it collapsed, never to rise, and weakly dripped corrupted essence onto the rock floor.
Falling apart though he was, new teeth forcing their way through shrivelled gums, Dust made himself step forward. He had to drain the corpse, stop the surviving Carriers from returning to grow fat on it. The quicker he did, the fewer remnants there would be to tempt the creatures in. If he could leave Kehuadinune empty of the Three’s influence, the Teotek could reclaim it. That’d be a great victory, something that could help put Texas back on track.
For a moment, he gave credence to the Gift’s warnings: what could be coming for him? Could the Gift see into the future? Or even far in the present, some force coming for him he didn’t yet appreciate? Maybe. But there was nothing he could do about that.
Something golden glinted on the plinth the Gift’d fallen from. Limping forward, he saw a golden bowl. Barely four inches across, it pulsed with magic and power despite having supported a leach for a couple hundred years.
“Found you,” Dust said before working on the Gift’s corpse.
Cosplay Pictures from Belfast Film and Comic Con
Our Very own Dave Foy was at the Belfast Film and comic Con this year and took a lot of pictures of the great Cosplayers!
Here are our top picks and a link to the rest on our facebook!
WIN AN AWESOME POWER RANGERS BATTLE ZORD – IN CINEMAS MARCH 24
It’s Morphin’ Time! To celebrate the release of the action-packed POWER RANGERS on March 24, starring: Dacre Montgomery, Naomi Scott, RJ Cyler, Becky G, Ludi Lin, Elizabeth Banks, Bill Hader and Bryan Cranston, we have a super cool Battle Zord to giveaway to a lucky winner.
Saban’s POWER RANGERS follows five ordinary high school kids who must become something extraordinary when they learn that their small town of Angel Grove – and the world – is on the verge of being obliterated by an alien threat. Chosen by destiny, our heroes quickly discover that they are the only ones who can save the planet. But to do so they will have to overcome their real-life issues and band together as the POWER RANGERS before it is too late.
Take down villains with your very own POWER RANGERS Battle Zord! The Zord has awesome interactive functions, which will place you right in the action!
Watch the trailer here:
POWER RANGERS arrives in UK cinemas on March 24. To win a Battle Zord of your own, simply watch the trailer and answer the question in the comments below.
What did the POWER RANGERS find underground?
a) A spaceship
b) A treasure chest
c) A gold mine
Nerd Block Classic: March 2017
Okay, if you were with me last month (and chances are, you weren’t), you know I was disappointed with the box on a whole. This month, the theme is “Team-Up”, which sounds like it has potential. Can Nerd Block bounce back after the blunder? Let’s find out.
The first franchise this month is the Power Rangers.
This is a water bottle with straw, exclusive to Nerd Block, from the original series. Admittedly, it’s a cool bottle (although I would have preferred the Black or Blue Rangers since they are not only better, but the actors who played them are better as well. Jason David Frank is a tool), but it’s not the most practical for the simple fact that I drink a lot of water on a daily basis, and this thing is 8 ounces at best. My regular bottle is four times that size, and I go through four or more of them per day. Now, I could say my daughter could use it, but even at 8, it doesn’t hold enough fluid for her. I’ll keep it because it looks cool, but I may not get much use out of it.
The second item, also from the original Power Rangers, is a set of coasters.
The coasters are made to look like the Morphers for the original five. Not bad, and definitely practical, but if you remember the box that was themed after Rogue One just a couple months ago, this is the second set of coasters I’ve gotten in a very short period. I really don’t need anymore coasters at this point, and it just feels lazy sending out two sets in so many months.
And hey, speaking of lazy, let’s look at this month’s t-shirt.
It’s Devastator from the original Transformers on a grey shirt. Admittedly, Devastator was always one of my favourites, but this design is so uninspired, not to mention this is the THIRD Transformers shirt I’ve gotten in so many months. I get these boxes for variety, and lately, it just hasn’t been there. This is more proof of that.
Alright, moving along, we go to Harry Potter, which we’re also getting two items from this month. Up first is a key fob.
Apparently, these are the Dementors. I say “apparently”, because I’ve never read any of the books or seen any of the movies, nor do I plan to. I have very few keys, and already have a similar-style fob on my keychain, so I really have no use for this. I gave it to my wife, but even with her being a fan, I don’t think she’s too interested.
The second item from the franchise is a book. A cookbook, to be exact.
Again, I have no interest in Harry Potter, but I might actually get some use out of this. I love to cook, and am actually pretty damn good at it, if I do say so myself (ask me to make you eggs in a basket, almond-fried chicken or yakisoba dogs sometime, to name a few). As long as the recipes are good, I don’t care what franchise the food is based on. If I can/want to eat it, we’re good.
Finally, we have a Marvel blind-bag lapel pin, with several possible options. Who did I get?
It’s Yondu, from Guardians of the Galaxy. You know, I regret not meeting Michael Rooker when I had the chance a couple years back, before GOTG was released. Just one of those things that we missed out on due to money and time. Oh, well. Anyway, It’s kind of a cute pin, but very small. The bag it came in made it seem like it would be bigger, but it’s literally about the size of my thumbnail. Not sure who the company was going for when they made it so small.
******
Well, that’s all for this month, and I am once again pretty disappointed. That’s two months in a row, which is not like Nerd Block in my experience. I also didn’t get a coupon this month for the website, which is a bummer, because I almost always use those. As for what is here, the shirt and the cookbook are the best items, but I’m not even crazy about those. Honestly, this box may be my last review for them.
That’s it for this month. Next month, the theme is “Dressed to Kill”. I don’t know if I’ll be reviewing it, though. We shall see.
MCM Birmingham Comic Con Cosplay
One of the highlights of the MCM Birmingham Comic Con is always the diverse costumes worn by the talented cosplayers that attend. The sheer breadth of costumes range from faithful recreations of those worn on screen to imaginative re-envisioning of iconic characters.
Here, in no particular order, is just a fraction of some of the fantastic costumes that were on offer at the convention last weekend.
All photos are by Peter Gatehouse and are used with permission.
MCM Birmingham Comic Con, March 2017
MCM Birmingham Comic Con (AKA BCC) is one of the biggest, if not the biggest, conventions in the midlands, and it is easy to see why. Hosted in the colossal Birmingham NEC, BCC manages to take over at least two of the hanger-sizedhalls. However, the convention is not just confined to the halls, as the event naturally spills out into the surrounding galleries. Likewise, the various restaurants and coffee-bars will often be seen filled with hordes of sci-fi fans and cosplayers.
MCM puts this extended floor-space to good use, ensuring that the event-space never feels crow ded or claustrophobic, despite the tens of thousands of visitors that flock through the doors. The Comics Village was placed in the very 
centre of the convention, and whilst the dedicated space for the comics creators could have been larger, it was gratifying to see it being placed at the heart of the event.
Amongst the comic creators were Anastasia Catris’s stunning fifties-pin-up/gothic Cirque Du Mort and Lyndon White with his gorgeous artwork bringing Bram Stoker’s Dracula to life in a concertina book. Illustrator Nomi Rana was in attendance displaying just a small selection of his vibrant artwork,
BCC had a definite retro vibe this time with Paul Michael Glaser, David Soul and Antonio Fargas of Starsky and Hutch headlining the event. For the Doctor Who fans, there was the rare opportunity to meet Billie Piper (Rose Tyler, as well as Brona Croft in Penny Dreadful), as well as Greg Austin and Fady Elsayed from Class. Each of the guests took the time to meet fans and answer their questions throughout the day.
Alongside these guests were the UK 501st Garrison costuming group. A convention is all well and good, but having platoons of storm troopers patrolling the event for “rebel scum” brings an unforgettable frisson to the event.
March’s BCC felt more regimented that previous events, with similar traders and creators near each other. Hence, there was the “steampunk emporium” that housed the various steampunk-themed creators and traders. Alongside the hordes of traders that can be found at these conventions, BCC also has numerous creators hidden amongst them, such as Dragon Hoard.
Joining the car from Starsky and Hutch were several classic vehicles of sci-fi, such as the Gotham City PD police car, the Racoon City PD police car and an Optimus Prime Freightliner. What was especially impressive was KITT from Knight Rider, including the flashing red-light on the front.
If there was to be a complaint leveled at BCC, then it would have to be amount of queuing that attendees can experience. Whether it was waiting for entry, signings or photos with the guests, you can expect to queue. There was even a queue to park at the NEC (which – literally – stretched for miles). Perhaps the event was a victim of its own success.
The cosplayers that could be found at BCC continued to amaze and impress, whether it was the screen-accurate costumes or an inventive reimaginings. The cosplayers brought an element of the fantastic to the event and undoubtedly contributed to the atmosphere.
It is the unique atmosphere of BCC – one that comes from being a melting-pot of enthusiastic geekery – that makes it such an exceptional event. Many have tried but few have succeeded in mirroring what MCM have achieved in creating such camaraderie of shared enjoyment as Birmingham Comic Con.
All photos by Peter Gatehouse and are used with permission.
War comes to Armageddon for Games Workshop – Necromunda next?
At the Game Manufacturer’s Association(GAMA) trade show in Las Vegas today, Games Workshop have been making waves in the hobby community, with an announcement for 40k and Specialist Games fans.
A new boxed game, Armageddon is all about Gang Warfare. Set in the 40k Universe, it focuses initially on Orcs and Space Marines doing battle in one of the hive cities of Armageddon, but also includes rules for many other forces, including Tau, Necrons, Eldar (And Dark Eldar, not to mention Harlequins), Tyranids and others to join in the fun. With some fantastic looking scenery, the older gamers among us will be relieved to hear that the rules are based on an old favourite from Games Workshop and Specialist Games: Necromunda!
According to a Rewarded Play review, the new scenery looks great, and is designed to work with the recent releases of Games Workshop modular scenery – The days of plastic brackets and cardboard pieces seem to be over! With the rules apparently including options for advancement and growth in your gang.team, maybe we’ll see the return of the real Necromunda soon? Could it be too much to hope that in Games Workshop stores, FLGS’ and Gaming Clubs across the country, Scavs, Spyrers and Redemptionists could once more line up across fetid piles of rusted metal and industrial waste? Time will tell.
In the meantime, we can amuse ourselves with opportunities to play the new game, and dig our miniatures out while we wait for the rumoured arrival of 40k 8th Edition!
Due out in April, and following hot on the heels of Shadows over Hammerhal, Gangs of Commoragh, Blood Bowl and Many others, and ahead of the anticipated return of Titan Legions, Many older gamers are remembering the feeling of handing over their pocket money to a Games Workshop shop every month!! See you all there, I’ll be first in line! 🙂
Dust and Decay – Chapter 8 – By Sean P. Wallace
Want to know what’s happening? The first book Dust and Sand was serialised here at Geek Pride. A summary is available here. You can also buy the definitive edition of Dust and Sand at all good eBook stores.
Dust put out the light to descend the carved ladder. He needed to concentrate on any sounds, smells, or magic coming from below, and he’d be better off not distracted by vision. And especially to not be blinded by the gleam from his now-bald noggin.
He smiled at his own joke. The hair loss didn’t bother him, but it proved something powerful was ahead. Something which enjoyed punishing whoever entered its domain. And given how long it’d been since people graced Kehuadinune, it had to be mighty old too.
Wasn’t he just lucky to face such a creature in the dark?
Dust started climbing down. Such was life. His life, any road.
In the tiny, plummeting passage, every movement was echoed and amplified, transforming the rustle of his clothes and his boots tapping against the next rung into booms of cannon fire. Dustin, the man he had been before becoming the Wanted Man, had known cannon fire well, so Dust didn’t enjoy the similarities.
Not that he remembered much from Dustin’s soldiering days. A gap which was unrelated to sacrificing his memories to form the Word which powered his other gun: life’d been terrible back then, tough justice and brutal, unfair crimes. Doubly so whenever the Triangle was involved. Every Marshall whispered about the truly godless crimes, hearsay and anecdotes, but Dustin Longe’d witnessed those rumours first hand. And done his damn best to erase every memory under alcohol. Mostly, he’d succeeded.
“Damn maudlin frame of mind you got there,” Dust told himself. “Best put it aside.”
An otherworldly laugh ricocheted around the narrow space in response.
That passageway went down for miles. Deep furrows and scratches were sometimes sliced from the ladder. Something’d clawed its way toward the open air long ago, only to find the way cut off by the Teotek’s ancestors. Damn frustrating, that must’ve been.
After about an hour, there came a rustling, leather against cloth, and something shrieked like it’d been stabbed. Dark wings rose toward him. Whatever was down there had grown tired of waiting.
The tunnel down was narrow enough that he could wedge himself into a firing position. Aim properly down the expanse. So he did just that, quickly but carefully. Dust drew his other gun – no way was he naming it, no matter what folks like Gentle Branch suggested – and aimed downwards. Whatever approached would face his own brand of hell.
Foul magic, a vibrating and sour taste, filled the air. Beating wings grew louder and louder, becoming deafening. Dust kept his hand straight, his aim true, even as his muscles complained at having to support him so.
Sensing the creatures were near enough, he fired. The shot lit the shaft, a descending angel with a grudge. Its kick nearly dislodged him. He glimpsed flesh dripping from makeshift wings and skeletal forms before the lead creature was incinerated. Fire illuminated its brethren momentarily, then the stricken thing turned to cinders.
At least he knew what he was facing: Carriers, familiars of the Major Gifts of Melting Flesh. They’d once been people, long, long ago, but there was no going back. Not when so little of the person they’d been remained. Unable to save them as Penelope would want, he could only release them from their pain.
Indiscriminately, he fired. The kicks jolted him again and again. Tight muscles screeched at him, but he gritted his teeth and kept going. There were plenty of Carriers, maybe fifty, so no shot missed. That also meant he couldn’t kill them all before they got to him.
Normally, Carriers were his meat and bread. Even when overwhelmed, he’d take them in a brawl. And he knew he’d improved a great deal since the fight at Crucifix. But one slip and he would tumble down for… well, who knew how long. He’d probably survive – probably – but might not get a week to recover before the Carriers’ master got to him. Let alone that it would waste time the Teoteks didn’t have.
The Carriers drew close enough to smell. Rot so strong he could taste it. Searing heat rose from their constantly-decaying bodies. Always wasting away, never withering. Such was Melting Flesh’s mindset centuries ago. His followers said he’d changed, wasn’t so cruel, but they would, wouldn’t they?
Dust decided to surprise the stinking things. He fired twice in quick succession and let himself go. Dropped through their ranks. Rotting bones cracked as he struck them. The stricken beasts tumbled with him. Screeches of pain. The surviving Carriers soared past, weakly scratching at him, their momentum too great for anything else.
Dust span and threw his left hand and feet out against the passage walls to stop himself. His wrist snapped like a twig, he completely lost the soles of his boots, but he came to a halt after only fifty yards. Below the pack, ready to gun them down.
The Carriers stopped flapping to let gravity slow them. Turn back. That only made it easier to pick them off. A dozen clean shots and their ashes coated him like rice at a wedding. Their stench clung along with their remains.
“Hope you’re all at peace now.”
None of them responded.
He holstered his other gun and forced his wrist back into something like the right place. This done, he clamboured back to the ladder and took a breather. Waited for his tattoo to repair the damage. There was a toll for being whole again, one of raking pain, but Resistance gave him back a working hand. Which he used to continue the descent.
His now-exposed toes touched the carved ladder’s stone hide. Unpleasant, but he didn’t have spare boots with him, so he’d have to cope. In fact, he didn’t own another pair. He’d have to beg one from someone in the Teotek band.
More begging… Asking more from those with so little. He hadn’t been brought up a leech, hated even contemplating asking for help, but the Teotek wanted to support him. Granted, it was selfish aid – if Resistance triumphed, they might flourish again – but it was still charity he didn’t hold to. Reliance on those weaker than him. Resistance surely hadn’t made him the Wanted Man so he could take from other people.
No, he corrected himself a little, the Teotek might recover with the Three gone, then flourish. They needed to first get back to how they’d been before their world was invaded. And not by the Three.
Dust reckoned he had climbed down for about two hours when his sole struck uneven stone. It made him jump. He cursed himself for being jumpy. Waving his foot around, he found there was a large platform below him. At least as wide as the passage. He stepped away from the ladder cautiously. The ground seemed solid enough: there were no rumbles or shifting beneath him. Seemed like he’d finally found rock bottom.
Dust smiled. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
He asked Resistance for another light source. This time, his tattoo provided one immediately, showed him a narrow tunnel which soon joined a miles-wide cavern. Seemingly natural, from what he knew of such things. Easily large enough to house most of Texas. At its distant centre was something lit by green flames. Dust couldn’t pick out what, but that seemed a good place to start looking for the golden bowl. And whatever coveted or guarded it.
Water constantly dripped from the cavern’s distant stalactites, uneven and misshapen things. The drops travelled so far they were almost frozen when they splashed on his bald head. A low breathing sound grew, laboured and unwell. The air stank of evil and horror, like the belch which’d tried to kill him, only weaker. The temperature varied wildly too, from Texan summer sun to a cold so deep it couldn’t be natural.
Dust kept his hand on his other gun.
At length, the thing lit by green flames became visible. Seven green torches surrounded it, each on a marble brazier bound by ropes woven with magic. Between the flames was a plinth tiled in bright blue and dark green, diamond patterns and symbols of holding and enforcement. And resting on the plinth was the source of the breathing, the stench, and the tang of vile magic: a Major Gift of Melting Flesh. Perhaps one of the Great Gifts of its time.
Gifts were all unique. Melting Flesh operated under the laws of diseases, having fallen in love with their biology long ago: evolution and ascension, abhorrent growth and diversity. As such, whenever something gained enough prestige, magic, or victims to ascend to the rank of Gift, they became something the world’d never before seen. Like any new disease that baffled doctors.
This one should be maybe eighty yards tall and almost as wide. A mountain of lumpen magic and skin. Dark hair sprouted from sores on its hide, squatting alongside innumerable cankers, blisters, and grossly-swollen muscles. The Gift’d once been human, he reckoned: it mimicked most of one’s shape, at least, albeit in giant proportions. Were it free, it would have towered over Dust, almost godlike. Shambling and rotten, granted, but some gods were like that.
Thankfully, it was trapped in a ten foot wide tube of magic. Tall enough for it to stand in, too slender for anything like comfort. Any other creature would’ve died in such confinement, but this Gift must’ve been down here for centuries, feeding on whoever dared enter the ancient city. Spoiling and taking on this new shape, like jelly set into a mould.
It spoke in a language Dust didn’t know. Repeating itself, the shape squirmed, its prison subtly vibrating as its tone grew hostile.
“You’re wasting your breath.”
The Gift’s bulbous form flashed. The air’s foul stench gained a frisson of magic. Then it turned with some effort. A great green eye squeezed out from the folds of skin and focussed on him.
“Approach me,” it said through yellowed teeth the size of tombstones. “I would see this persistent intruder into my domain.”
Dust kept walking. He tightened his grip on his other gun’s hilt.
The Gift pivoted further, a broken and blistered nose taller than Dust emerging from the folds of its flesh. Wrinkled as well as withered. If they were as old as Dust thought, the Gift’d once been an ancestor to the Teotek.
“A white man. A devil. You should not be here.”
“But here I am. At the behest of the Teotek.”
It pressed its putrid eye against its invisible prison. The flames soared in response. “What is that about you? Is it… Resistance?”
Dust nodded. “It is. I am his.”
“Desperate… Resistance has grown so desperate, it would seem.” It mumbled something Dust couldn’t make out. “As must these ‘Teotek’ be if they sent you. Why are you here, white man? What brings you to my foetid kingdom? My prison?”
“I’m here for a bowl. An item of power.”
“You will not have it.”
So, it was here then. Dust drew his gun. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”
The Gift’s huge pupil narrowed. “Power! You bring such power with you. It has been so, so… long… I hunger so greatly. Your power, I must have it!”
Cracks and shakes rolled down from miles above. Dust looked up, his other gun aloft, at what’d looked like a standard cave ceiling. Except it didn’t any longer
It seemed not all of the Teotek’s ancestors had fled. Not by a long shot. Now, they were Carriers. Carriers that’d stayed so still for so long that stone had closed over them. This Gift might’ve been trapped for centuries, but it’d busied itself building an army.
Dust bet that there’d been a great war to curse this Gift to immobility. Perhaps every one of the Teotek’s ancestral warriors’d died in the victory they’d earned. But they’d had to leave the Gift alive, and the damn thing’d been using the curious and brave warriors which entered the abandoned city to sustain themselves and their thralls.
That and, maybe, the bowl he was after.
Not that the history of it all mattered much. Hell was about to crash down on him. Yet Dust wasn’t scared or nervous: he smiled. It’d been too damn long since he had a good fight.
