Colossus, The Forbin Project (1970) is from my perspective something from the annals of history. One of those things that happened years before my birth that I would never hear of if it weren’t for freak accidents like manatic bringing it up (thanks for that!). So, today, I managed to dig a copy up and watched it. I had preconceptions about the film, that it might be a more polarized view of the Cold War politics, but in fact it turned out to be quite the opposite. This will contain spoilers, so be warned. Also, there is no fancy gaming angle to this – it’s just because the movie touches two things I’m interested – communication and the Cold War.

The movie poster, from wikipedia

The movie is based on a book, which in the end turned out to be a trilogy – something that explains the references near the end, where the computer mentions about something being built, that will take five years to complete (the second book of the trilogy takes place five years after the first one) and probably the reason for the very bleak situation it ends with, even if those weren’t exactly uncommon at the time when the movie was filmed. And while the book was published in ‘66, which sets some backdrop to the events, I’d like to see the movie more as the product of those later years (69-70).

So it’s interesting how the Soviets are pictured in the movie. Considering that they “just” had invaded Czechoslovakia with their allies, the fact that the biggest atrocities the Soviets commit are exactly the same ones the Americans do (shooting of their own when presented with choice between that or destruction of a whole city), is actually quite endearing. And that both sides use the same, unified tactics to combat the computers brings them to light as not as polarized superpowers, but as simply members of the same human race. The Soviets in the film even don’t do things the way they usually are portrayed in movies like this – behind the backs of the Americans and in effect working against the heroes as their plans backfire. In fact, it’s the Soviets who get to pay the human price before the Americans do, and the viewer gets to feel sympathy towards them with no strings attached.

And there is a lot of that anti-war and unity-between-all sympathy in the movie. For example the president of the USA is pictured as something of a Kennedyesque character who wants to explain things to the public as frankly as possible and who is horrified when he has to explain to them that there’s been a nuclear incident, even if the administration at the time was in the hands of Nixon. And Nixon at the time was the conservative right wing man who approved secret bombings in Vietnam instead of being the president who negotiated the peace there. Also, the crew of scientists the main character is a part of is like the bridge of a Star Trek ship, filled with men, women, white, black, asian alike, with what seems to be equal status. Another nod at the world of man being at least somewhat unified.

But then there’s the language theme that keeps popping up that parallels and mirrors the other questions of unity. Even as all men stand united when they face the technological threat, humans are ineffective because they don’t share a language. This comes up at many points – there is the need of interpreters between the Soviets and the Americans. People keep explaining that their language skills are lacking and others saying that their skills are much better than they were saying. There are conversations that happen in one language that needs to be repeated in the other because there had been someone in the group who didn’t speak the first language. There seem to be moments of misunderstanding when the interpreter is asked to explain things. And so on. Also, the computers don’t speak the same language from the start, but the first thing they do is develop a language they both can use equally well. They are effective. And when humans don’t understand the computers, the computers immediately respond with the language the humans understand – force. Eventually, when they have had time to communicate with their shared language they become one, the ultimate computer. Unity.

The president calls out for a “human millennium” when the movie starts, an age where they may get rid of famine and suffering. And the way to that will be peace through the impersonal guardian computer. The exact same words are later echoed by Unity, who has been working for that very goal, through the subjucation of the human race. Leaving us with the question if the needs of the whole human race are more important than the needs of each member of it.

And in the end, even if we kept asking for the end of war, of a world united as one, a world without suffering, when we’re asked to actually sacrifice our illusion of freedom and love Unity as our master, our defiant answer is “Never”.

I guess there is some unwritten law that every person who went to see Watchmen blogs about it. (will probably spoil some bits about the movie, so be warned)

It was a nice movie. People have complained about the fight scenes and the sex scenes being too long, but I didn’t think so, even if the whole movie was a bit on the long side. I think they both brought out the physicality and reality of the needs these people had, even if they donned on masks and set out to fight justice. Especially how brutal the violence got when it got rolling. It brought the question of the characters’ sanity much better to the surface (The lovers switching approving glances while breaking thugs’ arms and legs) and kept the viewer nicely reminded that this is not a Superman or X-Men movie where violence is more fun and games for all.

The casting was top-notch down to Nixon.

The huge blue smurf … manifestation… that was such a huge deal was pretty natural in the end and didn’t at least bother the flow of the film. As said, the sexuality in the movie was quite apparent a lot, but we are talking about people who dress up in rubber suits, so it’s to be expected.

And the ending. The controversial ending with no squid. It worked for me. The squid would have made the movie a bit less serious – this way it still filled the needs of the story, while fully focusing on the characters. While in the comic (with the pirate story-within-a-story and whatnot else), the presence of yet another major character (the squid) is easy to do, it was better to focus on what was there. The five Watchmen.

Over on TED, J.J. Abrams talks of boxes and Tom’s nose

Really nice stuff, and shows how good he must be doing his sales pitches. The stuff everyone who ever has done a scenario based on a movie or a TV-series really needs to be listening is the brief stint where he talks about the best scene in Jaws.

Oh boy, I really went for the very bottom just now and saw some unexpected light there. Not necessarily as bottom, as you’d expect for example a burnout drugaddict buried beneath a continent do, but more roots level bottom. No, I have still not gone the Fear and Loathing route either. I’m just talking about a particularly excellent bad film. Following me? Don’t touch anything.

I watched Airport 1975. I loved it for all the wrong reasons, but I’m sure it’s all right. See, everyone knows the classic, legendary gag-festival of a movie, Airplane!. Guess what movie it parodied? Yees, you’re now following me. Airport started a string of aviation disaster films, basically setting the basis for a genre of its own. It was a success as far as I know (haven’t checked this, but I just seem to recall etc.), and sported quite a few sequels and tag-along movies copying the concept. Of course, such boom always waters down quickly, and no exceptions were offered here. Final nail on the coffin full of disaster corpses came from the movie Airplane! that meticulously took the very same elements, same shots, same characters, same structure, same bloody hell everything and then calmly and carefully shredded it all into pieces and took a long and equally meticulous piss on everything, without stopping for breath just like this insanely long sentence. Of course, it sported a sequel that sort of sucked, so it’s nice to see it really respected and picked up on the originals in that sense, too.

Having never before seen this original father-of-all, I did have gained levels on disaster movies of later eras and I’ve been a diehard fan of Airplane! ever since I was conceived. It really has been a grand part of the grand scheme of things that define me. Now, after almost memorizing that wonderful, graverobbing, gratuitous, disrespectful black awesome sheep of Hollywood, I saw the daddy and it was just like watching the parody that murdered it. Bewildered, I was.

I honestly don’t know which one I was judging, as I was only marveling at the level of parody, shot by shot. They did take different paths at the moment of disaster, and only then I managed to see it standing on its own feet. Wobbly feet with no toes by todays standards, but entertaining nonetheless. Golden stuff, both on “oh haha this is awesome” level and “oh wow I’m really so tainted” revelations. See, it kind of blames you: You’re laughing at the serious old guy because all you’ve seen of him was through a clown mocking him, and then you notice he doesn’t want to be laughed at, then you notice yourself laughing at both, get torn apart, stop caring, and that’s the point of zen right there. It’s a process that cleanses and prepares you for the death that happened to the movie long before you never saw it happen. Instant level-up right there.

Had I not seen Airplane! before, this would have been dire, campy and only mildly entertaining on 70’s pulp values. Good in its own field, but the kind you have to scrape the bottom to get a good taste in your mouth afterwards. Prepared for the blow by a teacher that throws genre curveballs at you, you end up watching it a bit like some teaching experiment or a spotting test, putting you in a state of mind that lets you pick it apart and enjoy the pieces. Too big mouthfuls and it sticks in your throat, finely chopped and it’s like fine caviar mixed with Red Bull. Completely unnecessary and completely win-win.

If you’re a huge fan of movies that are ultimately parodies of some defining movies of the genre, make sure you see the originals. You’ll see the parodies with completely new eyes. Yes, most people do that already and yes, the parodies often are excellent on their own, but to really appreciate them on some deeper, illogical and somehow violated levels, you have to know their ancestors. I just have this nagging spider-sense that’s telling me most people haven’t seen Airport 1975, although they’ve seen Airplane!.

Oh, and as I mentioned Airplane! The Sequel, I must also readily recommend Starflight: The Plane That Couldn’t Land, aka Starflight One. It’s simple concept – take a virgin hypersonic airplane that skims the edge of atmosphere at ridiculous speed, take the usual lineup of basic characters and required tensions and love interests and whatnot, insert said characters in plane, insert disaster event, have said plane stuck in space full of screaming characters, get NASA shove some space shuttles to save the bugger, have people, go nuts, et cetera. It’s really the fat and icky bacteria that makes cream so good.

(Warning, post contains spoilers of the movies Feast and Beerfest, not that you’ll ever watch them anyways)

So, there you are with your traditional RPG group, with great ideas about what the campaign will be about – you manage to get the players to do a perfect mix of characters and know how you’ll make the plots personal to the characters. Or the other way around – the players make a great group of characters made with great plot ideas you intermingle with the core thoughts of your campaign. In either case, the Dark Prince and his Troop of interesting NPCs will be essential because one of the characters used to work for him, and the birds are singing as the day is perfect.

And then the character dies. You have spent some 10 game sessions building up things and everything has gone by so well, and now a blank hole is staring at your face. The respectable way is to look at the character sheet, shed a tear and roll another character. If you’re lucky, some of the personalized plots you’ve created are such that they can be salvaged and reused by changing a couple of names and details.

But a lot of things are now lost for good. And if you as a GM had built the game heavily on very personal involvement of the characters, you might be screwed. If you had built the Dark Prince and his Troopers to be the character’s old company, full of his old friends, offing this character turns these NPCs more or less into faceless thugs with maybe some interesting characteristics, but thugs still. The personal attachment is gone.

But hear ye, hear ye. I have seen the light, and I shall preach of the light. In the movie Beerfest, the protagonist group is made of essential individuals, who are personally invested in the plot. In particular, there is a character in the ensemble called Landfill, who is a key part of the team. And he dies in the film.

After his death, there is the typical pause to remember how good man he was, and the characters are at his funeral, wondering what to do. Without Landfill’s unique skills, everything is doomed and a couple of plot points are left dangling.

Insert Gil, a new character to the film, who is the identical twin brother of Landfill. When I mean identical, I am talking how he manages to fill the spot of his now-dead brother. He is described as being the person who taught Landfill everything he knew about beer, and is implied to be as good as, or better than, Landfill in every possible aspect of life. And to top things off, Gil asks to be called Landfill, to honor his brother’s memory. And the movie goes on as if the death had never really happened.

Wait. What?

In Beerfest, the death of the character isn’t essential, which is pretty uncommon thing – normally characters only die, when it is required by the plot to happen. In Beerfest, death just happens. Thus it quite well fits a typical RPG death where the character dies because of the rules of the game, not because of the reasons of the plot. The Risk/Reward thing that’s written in the rules usually require that there is the risk of death for the characters, and it rarely follows the needs of the plot. So, what can we learn from the untimely death of Landfill and how can we abuse it for our own games?

I’m claiming that by taking a look at your plots, you can convert some of them into viral plots that can transcend a single character. Of course, doing it the full Beerfest way and just making a carbon copy of all the plots and abilities on the next characters, will be just silly (Beerfest was a comedy, and comedy is hard). But it doesn’t mean that some of the plots cannot continue living past the character’s lifespan in other people.

One thing this will need is some added transparency between the GM and the players during the game. Once the basics are there – characters are ready and you, as a GM, have an idea where you want to take them, you’ll need to be honest. This means saying to the players that “Ok, looking at your group and your characters. You are all unique snowflakes that are needed to complete the story that will unfold. Should one of you die, these here are the skills, traits and plots that I want to keep in the group. So take a look at them, and think who would work as a backup for them should things go bad.”

And the players should then form minor connections that can serve as full-fledged anchors for the plots should the push come to shove. And if you can’t make the current characters fill the shoes of a dead character, plotwise, make sure their replacement will fill them.

So, best case scenario, when a character dies, his plots will get distributed amongst the other characters, or there will be a pre-visioned Landfill’s brother out there to fill the parts of the position that won’t be distributed amongst the survivors.

This all was done much better in the horror/comedy/monster movie Feast, where the characters are very much nameless stereotypes filling a very specific role in the plot. A role that is exploited very much is that of “The Hero”. In the beginning of the film, The Hero rushes into the bar, explains the situation and how if people listen to him and do as he says, they’ll stay alive. He then immediately gets killed by a monster. After this, The Hero’s wife (now introduced as The Heroine) takes charge and keeps the hope alive amongst the diminishing group of survivors.

When she eventually dies, there is a short transition scene where one of the minor characters of the movie looks at the Heroine’s stuff and finds the conviction she needs to take up the mantle, turning the character into “The Heroine 2″. Bascially, the character had the potential to become the one who keeps the hope alive and takes charge, but doesn’t do it before the need for such a character presents itself. This transition isn’t unbelieveable, and you can imagine the GM telling the players that “Ok, to make this work, there needs to be one character at all times who is willing to take charge. Think in which order this role gets passed on should the current Hero die.”

So, to return to the Dark Prince and his Troop of Named Minions, where the main plot point you want to keep alive might be that character #1 has been a part of the Troop in his past – and thus sees the Troop as something else than just a group of faceless thugs, eventually leading to the question of “are minions evil and is it ok for us to kill them?”. This is such a personal plot that it would normally die along the character, but creating a backup, should things go bad, will be worth it.

A player wants his personal plots to be personal. This means that when you make backups for the plots of the player’s characters, you should make it clear that they are just that, backups. They do not activate until the original character is unable to interact with them. It means that a new character joining the group should have his own personal plots, but the potential to take over the plot of some of the older characters. If in Beerfest, Gil had been previously introduced, he shouldn’t have been a person that didn’t have anything to do with beer. The fact he’s a beer-expert would come to play only when he needs to take the position. Nothing is as annoying to a player to realize that the personal thing he had going for himself was in fact just a huge consipiracy everyone was involved in.

And with character #1 and his backup #2, and their relation with the Dark Prince, One example could be to keep a certain Dark Trooper and #2 apart as long as #1 is alive, because they actually know each other. Should the need to pull #2 as #1s backup arise, just have the Trooper and #2 meet and develope their relationship on a humane level. The players know beforehand that there is a backup to the plot in the meeting, and will keep the characters apart until it is needed.

In summary. When you do a traditional game where your characters’ personal plots are in fact huge parts of the main plot, you should talk with your players and make sure that the vital plots can survive the death of that character. But also to be firm on the fact that the personal plots of the players stay personal as long as the character is alive.