Cloudy: A Poem

They poured water over the fire in my veins

They coated my bones in rusty metal

Their megaphone screams echo in my ears

I gaze up at the stars

sparking dimly in the firmament

Has the light at the end of the tunnel

finally gone out?

How To Do Reboots

Some time ago, I expressed support for Marvel's decision to make Thor a woman. Since then, I've been thinking a lot about what constitutes an effective reboot in the context of comic books. I say 'effective rather than 'successful' because it's actually really easy to measure whether or not something was successful. In this context, if a thing made money, it was a success. I'm more interested in, obviously, the effectiveness of reboots. Not what makes them lucrative, but rather what makes them good.

After a good deal of rumination, here's what I came up with.

Reboots have to bring something new to the table, ideally based on whatever major change the writers decided to make. What do you mean by that?" My imaginary audience asks in unison. Well, in order to answer that, let's look at the new, female Thor again, shall we?

Previously, the person who carried the mantle of Thor was a man. Now, the reverse is true. What this means is that Lady Thor has to be a character in her own right. If your rebooted character acts exactly the same as their previous incarnation, then there's no point in rebooting said character in the first place. The new version must respond to stimuli differently than those that came before her. She must make her own decisions. Essentially, the rebooted character has to be able to stand on their own.

This is a very difficult task, because if the rebooted character abandons the essence of her predecessor, then she sort of ceases to be that character at all. This results in a kind of balancing act, wherein the new character must be different while still maintaining a significant link to the original. Finding that happy medium is, in my humble opinion, the most important part of any reboot.

To do this, try to identify the most important aspect of the original character. Once you know what really makes them tick, you can play with that in interesting ways. Explore traits in as many new areas as possible. If rebooted characters must respond to stimuli in new ways, confront them with new stimuli. We’ve never seen the real Thor react to a giant, fire-breathing rabbit rampaging around the city, so putting Lady Thor in that context helps make her into a new person. Make sure to maintain some of Thor's machismo, though. The link still needs to exist.

Just something to think about.

(For those interested, my initial post about Lady Thor and diversity is here.)

Ink in My Veins: A Poem

If you want to be

Like the masters-

Write, paint, create-

Like the masters

You must become the master

Of letting go.

Cut, slice, chop

Every word must earn

Its way onto the page

Ink is more valuable than blood

Don’t waste a drop

The Act Of Creation: A Poem

I miss you. 

I miss the adventures we took together 

The nights we spent huddled in front of a roaring fire

 Dreaming well past sunrise

they seemed to last forever.

I long to feel your touch again

it’s been an eon since we were close.

 Let my hands glide across your skin

 leaving my mark in all the right places.

Let our words dance in the air

painting the cold gray sky with life.

 Let us create again.

 Together.

The Pen Bleeds: A Poem

The pen bleeds

staining the page, 

Guided by the relentless voices

each one clamoring for my attention

competing for the right to be expressed

My hand races against the clock’s

In a desperate bid

To prevent any word

From being left to rot

In my head

As the midnight hours fall away

The pen bleeds

Going Nuts Over Realism

Going Nuts Over Realism 

Chris Costello

You know what?

Fuck realism.

I write sci-fi, and a lot of it is pretty outlandish. Hell, the last short story I wrote involved an alien bounty hunter discussing philosophy with a small-town sheriff (You can read it here). I've been writing these kinds of stories for a damn long time. Close to a decade, in fact.

In my travels as a fiction-person, I've come across one idea that influences the way we think about sci-fi more than any other. For some godforsaken reason, people think that science fiction, or indeed any fiction, must be plausible in our world. It must be realistic.

To hell with those people.

That sounds harsh because it is. I've seen countless authors, many of whom I respect both personally and professionally, perpetuate that myth. They think that everything happening in their story, even the magic, must be based entirely on the laws that govern our own, non-fictional world.

This mostly applies to physical things, like the speed at which Superman can fly. You see writers, but also the general public of geeks, say stuff like, "At that speed Superman would burn up and die. I call bullshit on that."

Well, I call bullshit on you. Superman doesn't have to pay attention to our laws of physics, because he's an alien. Also, he isn't real. None of this is. It matters a great deal to a lot of people, but it isn't real.

My point is, if you can tell interesting stories that make sense in the context of your own fictional universe, go nuts. Physics be damned.

Now, before you accuse me of being an Eigen apologist or whatever, listen to my final point on the subject. If you say that your story takes place in our world, then by all means, pay attention to physics and the like. But that's an element you include because you want to and not because you need to. Feel free to construct an entirely new universe solely for the purpose of your narrative. Again, go nuts.

But that's not really the kind of realism I wanted to talk about today. I wanted to discuss the character-centric part of realism. See, I love superheroes. I've written and spoken about them quite a bit, and there seems to be a particular push to make the men in tights as believable as possible.

And, in this case, I'm all for it.

You should always try to have your characters behave in interesting ways, and this includes typically ‘angsty’ things, such as real emotion. And, for the love of whatever magic man in the sky you've chosen to worship, make sure your dialogue sounds natural.

What I'm sick of is stories about how superheroes would really act.

 I'm not against the idea in principle, far from it. I think examining the effects of Superman on the real world is an intensely interesting thought experiment. In that case, scientific, or physical, realism can definitely work, and even enhance the narrative. But again, include those things at your discretion.

My actual beef is with stories in which "realism" is merely an excuse for the characters to act like dicks to each other.

The Ultimate Marvel universe comes to mind as an example of this, but I'll focus on a more mainstream example for the purposes of this post. Luckily, it's one I've written about extensively before, both here and elsewhere.

That's right. We're talking about Man of Steel again. Buckle up, everyone.

In the film, Superman “saves the day” by snapping the villain’s neck. Now, you might say that this action was necessary to preserve the greater good. This is the same excuse many give for Superman’s total and complete destruction of his adopted home, Metropolis. I disagree, but whatever. We’re all entitled to our own opinions, meaning you are perfectly allowed to be wrong, evil and an all-around terrible person who has no right to life. Isn’t freedom of speech awesome?

I’ve already discussed the problems with that definition of morality, at least as it relates to Superman, so let’s move on. I have a real problem with the idea that Superman would be a power-hungry tyrant in the real world. The idea that he would snap and enslave us all is nuts to me. It’s not that I don’t believe he could do it. In fact, I know he can. If it weren’t for Batman, anyway. The issue is that he wouldn’t do something like that, because he is fucking Superman. He’s a shining beacon of hope. He is, pure and simple, a good guy.

Batman And Morality

Gotham, The Dark Knight, and The Subjective Nature Of Morality

Chris Costello

I like Gotham. Now, before you lynch me for having terrible taste, let me explain. I know that the show can be over the top, in particular with the depiction of the Riddler’s insanity in the most recent episode (Smashing a skull with a hammer is a little on-the-nose, if you ask me). I have some things to say about that incident in specific, but it ties into the broader point I’m trying to make here, so we’ll loop back around to that.

The other criticism viewers of the show have is that it is illogical. The idea that Bruce Wayne, as an eight-year-old, could not only track down a hired assassin but also push him out a window is ludicrous. I agree with that assessment, to some extent. But let me tell you why the ruthless, intelligent, and frighteningly competent characterization of young Bruce makes sense within the larger themes of the Batman mythos. Here we go.

The most terrifying thing about villains is that they don’t know they’re the bad guy. This might seem like a departure from the thesis I outlined above, but bare with me. All of this will make sense by the end of this thing, I promise. Anyway, back to that thing I said about villains a second ago. The way to write an interesting villain is to give them a Machiavellian end justifies the means mentality. The villains, even the truly, criminally insane ones, must believe that their actions are necessary for the greater good. Joker must think that killing Batman will improve Gotham. Lex Luthor has to believe that Superman is bad for the world. Good, or rather interesting, villains believe that their brand of psychotic, murderous vigilante justice is the right way to do things.

And so does Batman. At his core, Bruce Wayne, even as an adult, is a child who watched his parents die. He was unable to stop an objectively evil event from occurring, and it broke him. He is shattered because of what happened, and what he could not do. It was this shattering, this insanity, that led him to put on the bat-suit. Rather than using his vast fortune to Improve the city he claims to love by, say, buying houses personally for all Gotham’s disadvantaged citizens. 

Rather than donating to the police and using legal channels to fight the crime he professes to hate, he turned himself into a warrior. A weapon. He sunk untold amounts of money and time into beating the shit out of criminals, into ‘cleaning up the streets.’ And he did it because he’s broken. He is so wounded that he believes the only way to work trough his unsolved aggression (He never got therapy, remember), and to ostensibly improve Gotham City, is to put on a costume and smash some heads. He inflicts violent physical and emotional harm onto people, which would be tantamount to torture if we preformed it on even the most despicable terrorists. 

But it’s okay, because everything Batman does is for the greater good.

Are you noticing a pattern here? Both Batman and his enemies believe that their specific brand of psychosis will help make the world a better place. This means that morality is subjective, but so what? What does any of this have to do with Gotham and its characterizations of both Young Bruce and The Riddler? Well, I’m glad you asked. 

The point of Batman, to me, is to show the subjectivity of morality. It’s about confronting our own demons and realizing that humanity is a whole. A hive. We are not so different from whoever, or whatever, we consider to be evil. We can all become evil, if we allow our emotions to cloud our actions. Wayne was angry, so he lashed out and became violent as Batman. That’s the whole freaking point of the character.

And that’s why Gotham works, at least as far as Young Bruce is concerned. He’s ruthless, murderous, and calculating. He’s damaged. He is on the path of a villain, or at least a competently written one. The fact that he’s on this path earlier than in the comments serves to tell the audience that this can happen to anyone. The subjectivity of the ‘greater good’ is timeless.

From a story point of view, the timeline allows for a more realistic portrayal of recovery. Healing Bruce’s shattered psyche will not happen overnight. By allowing him to confront his malicious nature early in life, we can see the entire journey. Grown Bruce still has to heal, he still has to get back to normal. And now he’s been entrenched in rage from a young age, so it’s even harder for him to climb out of that pit of darkness. That’s dark and complex without being moody. That’s the essence of Batman.

Now let’s look at Gotham’s interpretation of The Ridder. Edward Nygma is crazy. He dismembered a man and smashed his skull into little pieces with a hammer. That’s crazy, pure and simple. But the guy he killed was an abusive asshole, and he was hurting the woman Nygma loves. Therefore, he’s doing good. This is what makes the psyche of Bruce Wayne so interesting. Because it’s not that different from that of one of his greatest villains. It is this moral quandary that makes the story and the mythos of Batman so freaking compelling.

Now, you might say that the Riddler and Batman are different because the latter doesn’t kill, at least not outright. I think Batman is a murderer regardless. He breaks thug’s bones regularly, and I’ve never once seen him call an ambulance for one of those guys. Leaving someone for dead, to me, is just as bad as killing them. It might even be worse. This is a subjective point, as is all morality, but whatever. It really has no bearing on the rest of this essay.

Let’s assume that Batman agrees with my hypothetical reader, as opposed to me. He doesn’t kill. He might have confronted and made peace with the psychotic nature of his actions, but that is the one line he won’t cross. If this is true, then the Riddler represents what he might become. If Batman continues down his current path, then he might eventually lose whatever thread of sanity he has been clinging onto. The Riddler is Batman taken to his logical extreme. He’s a villain, and a really insane one. Now, the Joker might’ve filled this role in the comic books, but after his stellar portrayal by Heath Ledger in Nolan’s Batman films, and the upcoming butchering of the character in Suicide Squad, I think that character deserves a rest. Don’t you?

That’s why I like Gotham. It gives us a glimpse inside the mind of a mentally-ill man with tremendous power and influence, and a tremendous amount of work to do in the healing process. All this while teaching us a little something about the nature of morality. Plus, it’s still a relatively interesting show. If you ask me, that’s what every superhero story should strive to do.

As a side note, this complex morality presented in Batman is why Dawn of Justice will presumably be terrible. See, Superman is a boring character. The fact is, he’s a bland goody-two-shoes with an outdated sense of right and wrong. But he can work as an archetype. He can be the pinnacle of heroism, the thing that every other superhero, and indeed every regular person, is aiming to be.

It is in this capacity that the character works as a foil for Batman. Clark’s unwavering sense of justice serves as a poignant counterpoint to Bruce’s torn, villainous mindset. He forces Batman to confront another idea of what a real hero is. With Superman by his side, Batman has a beacon of hope to look towards. He knows what a really good person looks like. And, put simply, it isn’t him. The Batman-Superman relationship is just another facet of the moral puzzle the series presents (Side note: Robin is also an excellent foil for Batman, who serves the exact same purpose. Not that it matters right now).

But it simply does not exist within the Superman depicted in Man of Steel and, by extension, the forthcoming Dawn of Justice. Jesus Christ, is that really the goddamned title? Seriously? Whatever. In that film, Superman wears dark gray and muted red, and he is distraught over the destruction of his homeworld. He’s no longer the shining, primary-colored light we all look up to. He’s a murderer, even going so far as to snap the neck of Zod, the villain of the movie. 

I know he did that in the comics, too, but at least there was some emotional conflict involved. Here, he just kills and then whines about it. They’re trying to pack some emotional punch, but it falls flat because he’s just a gritty asshole. Instead of overcoming his grief, and showing that everyone has to make hard choices sometimes, but that we can still overcome them, he wallows in his own self-pity for half an hour. Brilliant, right?

In simple terms, the new Man of Steel is Batman. Now that they are both dark, conflicted characters, there’s no counterpoint, and neither is forced to evaluate their own choices with a critical eye. It’s not how that dynamic is supposed to play out, and that is why the film will surely be awful.

Zod, by the way, is just as grim and serious, if a bit more unhinged, than the title character. Then again, they both destroy the city, so can you really call Superman a hero in this context. That works with the Dark Knight, but it just isn’t who Superman is.

The subjectivity of morality is not present in the new dynamic, meaning that the two characters have no conflict, and thus no reason to fight one another. Batman Versus Superman is not a feasible path to take. Maybe they’ll do something new and interesting with that relationship, but I’m skeptical of that. Is that cynical? Sure. But at least I’m right.

But, then again, this last bit is all speculation, so maybe they’ll go in a completely different direction with their relationship. Even if they include a different metaphor, independent of all my talk about morality. Somehow, I really doubt it.

Just something to think about.