When a new year rolls around, it seems custom dictates that we look back upon it and those of us so inclined to waffle on do so in that retrospective manner. Those of us so inclined take to using bizarrely structured sentences with big words to make themselves sound ever so more eloquent than they really are, to promote the idea of intelligence. That or the person in question has just watched the last episode of Sherlock again and as such is feeling like prancing around and being a smartass. Unfortunately, that is all I'd be able to do as I lack Sherlock Holmes' rather brilliant deductive processes.
Anyway, that's a digression. Back to the matter at hand, which is the retrospective look at 2013. Blame old Janus for that one, two-headed know-it-all. Thanks to that particular god - who, fun fact, has no equivalent in Greek mythology - we spend a lot of January (shockingly enough named after him, vain little bugger) looking back at the year before and planning on doing so many wonderful things in the year ahead. We call them New Year's Resolutions, more commonly known as "sign up for the gym in January then stop going in February because I can't be arsed". Disclaimer - there are those in this world who do manage to actually stick to their resolutions and kudos to them, but I'm one of the little naysayers who doesn't even bother them. No definite philosophical aversion that I'm going to jam down your throats, I've just never felt the need for them. Simple apathy really.
Oh bollocks, I'm digressing ONCE AGAIN. Ahem. All right then. 2013.
First off, thirteen. The number has itself a bit of an unlovely rep. In the western world we have this undue obsession with thirteen being unlucky. In fact, in the later months of 2013, I was serving a customer - as my job requires - and as they had ordered food, I gave them an order number. It happened to be thirteen. So they said "Can I have another number?" Now I'm usually one to just bend over backwards and say "Yes, sir, of course, sir, no problem, whatever you like, sir." But I developed an affinity for thirteen in my old age. I happen to think it's a bit of a misunderstood number, the underdog that everyone should be rooting for. So my less-than-composed response was something along the lines of "Really?" The gentleman did not seem entirely impressed, especially when I tried to explain my off-hand objection in the context of my feelings towards thirteen. Epitomised by the serial number of my Colonial Fleet dogtags, 428813. I changed the number despite him apparently yielding to my defence of thirteen. Just to attempt to keep the customer happy, even though I'm 99.9% certain that he was distinctly unimpressed by the whole exchange.
But that's the latter half of 2013. Let's talk about the beginning. Now the last time I did a retrospective, I talked a lot about movies, babbled a little about books and went all gushing about people. Not sure if I'm going to do all of that, but there is some kind of abstract exploration I want to do. You see, when 2014 rolled around, I noted many people on the dread website Facebook noting how glad they were it was over. Indeed, I managed to blunder myself into one of my trademark hole-digging session on New Year's Day, just after the stroke of midnight, when I decided that there was really only one person I wanted to text and did so, expressing the sentiments to the effect of a hope that the coming year would prove as awesome as the last. Only to discover that in spite of several awesome things having happened to this person, a lot of crap happened afterwards. I sense, from the tidal wave of Facebook sighs of relief that many people felt that way about 2013.
Given my affinity for the number, I had some pretty high hopes that 2013 was going to be my year. It's been hinted and intimated on many an occasion (or maybe not, so some exposition will follow) that I have been attempting to woo/impress the object of my affections. First of all, object of my affections is an awfully unfortunate phrase. This person is not an object, they're a rather fantastic human being who on several occasions I was quite absolutely sure I'd completely blown it with. The beginning of the year being the first roll of a tiny snowball down the mountain, that eventually tumbled down and exploded at the end of June. Thank the Lords of Kobol that when it did, I discovered the lady in question did not in fact revile me or want me gone, they actually quite value my friendship and thus my affections have safely died away and some seem to be stirring elsewhere, but what becomes of that remains to be seen.
So, a little more geeky context. Earlier in 2013, I mentioned a television show called The Almighty Johnsons, the main thrust of which is the mortal incarnation of Odin seeking to reunited with his true love, the mortal incarnation of Frigg. Since watching the show, this has been something of a theme, the quest to find the Frigg to my Odin. Let's face it, if I could be Odin going around defeating frost giants and looking particularly badass with an eye-patch, it wouldn't be so bad. But I'm not exactly Odin, I just like the phrasing, "the Frigg to my Odin". Other potentials are "the Starbuck to my Apollo" and "the Holmes to my Watson". All in keeping with a theme of finding...companionship. I hesitate to say more because it feels a little too much like tempting the gods and they have an awfully annoying habit of making things awkward and pissing themselves laughing at the folly of mortals. That and it seems to me that there is a perception, nay even a prejudice, against those who seek to bestow affection on those they deem worthy of it. Phrases such as "You'll find it when you're not looking" are commonly thrown at you, should you dare to actually believe that you can find your Frigg. Or Odin. I can testify that things seem to work best when someone comes out of the clear blue sky, tearing through the little bubble world you've been in and drop-kicking you in all of the complicated feels, but nonetheless I do hope that I can find my Frigg. And if not, I can definitely say I've made some wonderful friends along the way.
AHEM. I think it's time to move swiftly on to a point that I've kind of been building up to. It's kind of a life philosophy. About six years ago, the world as I had wanted it to be crumbled down around me. The woman I believed I loved promptly turned around and jumped on some other donkey, dangling the false carrot of possible friendship as opposed to reconciliation and pretty much left me to emotionally bleed to death. Gods, that was awfully melodramatic. Anyway. As a result, I became even more of determinist in order to reconcile what had happened with the way I believe the world should be. Eventually, this evolved into a simple mantra - "Bad fortune is merely good fortune in a very clever disguise". Now in some cases, this is extremely hard to follow. I know because by sheer virtue of believing something, you invite others to criticise and challenge you. By way of example, 2013 put one of my friends through the absolute frakkin' ringer. Hades himself couldn't have been more sadistically evil in torturing them. Yet I believe that all that bad fortune, all the bad things that have happened, happened with good reason. It may not show itself immediately, but the reason is frakkin' out there.
Before this life philosophy attracts more raised eyebrows and strenuous objections, time to move on to the housekeeping. Well, the little details, more relevant to my journey through 2013. I've covered the big, nearly screwed-it-up-with-amazing-person-who-still-wants-to-be-my-friend, but 2013 wasn't all me bumbling around trying to love someone who loved me back, but only as a friend. In fact, in terms of my working life, 2013 was frakkin' epic. On the front of my paying job, I had a boss who unlike the last two jokers actually had the vaguest hint of a clue what they are doing. A revelation after the abject hell me and my colleagues had been through in the previous year. Then, as I mentioned in my last blog entry of 2013, I actually started and finished the first draft of my novel! Backtracking to the bad fortune/good fortune thing, I want to say that 2013 is almost...part one of a trilogy. Or maybe part two. Heck, it's Empire Strikes Back. The bad guys have one, the good guys are on the run, but all the crap we've been through, all the things that have happened good or bad have set us up for where we're going to be next. So 2014, if it turns out to be as awesome as everyone hopes, might just owe a frakton of thanks to 2013 for being so crap.
Also in 2013 where some other artistic, non-writing touches, but not by me. First of all, I had my first ever tattoo:
In keeping with my nerdiness and obsession with Battlestar Galactica, this is the Colonial symbol for Scorpia. To put it as simply as I hope I can, each of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol is named after the twelve constellations of the Zodiac. So, if you go by my logic, to figure out which colony you're from and which symbol is yours, look at this simple table, pick out your star sign and BOOM, that's your colony:
Aries - Aerilon.
Taurus - Tauron.
Gemini - Gemenon.
Cancer - Canceron.
Leo - Leonis.
Virgo - Virgon.
Libra - Libran.
Scorpio - Scorpia.
Sagittarius - Sagittaron.
Capricorn - Caprica.
Aquarius - Aquaria.
Picses - Picon.
For further information on the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, visit the helpful Battlstar Galactica wiki or, if you're in anyway obsessed with Galactica like me, go to Quantum Mechanix and buy the Map of the Twelve Colonies. It's where I took the symbol from that is now permanently inked on my arm. So say we all. Straight-faced this time. Also, photo credit goes to my colleague, call sign "Sonic" on account of his mohawk (not blue though), who as of Monday, 13th January 2014, has become my wingman. This could turn into a very interesting year...
The next subject of art is also in a similar tattoo vein. You see, I've wanted a tattoo for ages. Before I decided on the Scorpia Colonial symbol as my first tattoo, I came up with the idea of a dragon and a wolf in a Yin-Yang pattern. As luck would have it, I'm friends with a rather brilliant artist, Jennie Gyllblad. Click the name to discover her website and the brilliance of her work. Further good fortune smiled upon me, as she accepts commissions, so I commissioned her to design it. Now, given that I am something of a fan of The Song of Ice and Fire books and the associated television show, the design is a Targaryen dragon and a Stark direwolf. It now sits, beautifully framed, on my desk, right next to my computer. It looks (sans frame) a little something like the link you can click on which is these words. It is supremely beautifully awesome and much kudos goes to Jennie for her hard work and artistic genius. Still debating the tattooing of it upon my body, but by gods I still have an awesome piece of artwork to proudly display in my humble hall.
I suspect I have waffled on for a lot longer than I usually do and about subjects I don't usually waffle about, though I suppose that just goes to show that I feel a bit strongly about some of these things. Especially the bad fortune/good fortune thing. It's not the most popular life philosophy, mostly because people look on it as a cop-out, a cheap way of excusing bad things. It doesn't excuse them, barely explains them. What I hope it says, what I want to say to the people who have had a shit 2013, the people I care about who know who they are and will punch me repeatedly for being so stupidly sentimental, is that the bad things don't have to rule us. They happened because they needed to, to put us on the path we're on now. Hell, at the risk of getting myself shot, it's time for a final thought.
This year, I started out being completely in love with this incredible girl. I still love her in this moment right now, but I cannot stress enough how platonic that feeling is. She is my friend. For the very good reason that without falling in love with her, without expressing my feelings to her, putting myself through the ringer with own neuroses and insecurity, I could not be the man I am now. Slightly more confident than yesterday. Looking at 2014 with Mal's pistol strapped to his hip, the promise of Vera on the horizon (see QMx's Facebook page for context), high hopes for a Mk II Viper one day and hoping that maybe, just maybe, out there somewhere, is the Frigg to his Odin, the Starbuck to his Apollo.
I'm going to begin by saying "Quantum Mechanix, this is all your fault!" You can't escape this, QMx. You posted the link. On your head this whole thing lies! For you see ladies and menfolk, my mind is being warped...by the 1978 disco-style remix of the Doctor Who theme tune. In this article from io9.com, re-posted by QMx, therein lies the video with the aforementioned funky tune. I mean FUNKAY...oh dear gods, the funk. It won't leave my brain.
In order to distract myself (even though I have the video playing in the background because it's frakkin' addictive), I have decided that this will be the perfect opportunity to blog about that great stalwart of British science-fiction, Doctor Who.
I'm a geek and I'm British. It follows in bizarre logic that I am, of course, a fan of Doctor Who. While I imagine you could probably, somewhere, find a British geek not a fan of Doctor Who, it would likely be rather difficult. I will conduct a poll about this at work with all the geeky regulars, but until then, I want to talk about Doctor Who to get my mind off the brain-melting funk. That addictive, funky goodness...
Let's face it. As a science-fiction writer, I have toyed with the idea of writing about time travel. Come on, we all have. In fact, I dare any science-fiction writer who's watched an episode of Doctor Who to put their hand up and say they haven't dreamed about writing an episode themselves. While tied to a polygraph. With a bunch of kittens dangling over a shark-infested pool, to be dropped in at the first sign of a lie.
My journey with Doctor Who...well, I can't actually remember where it truly began, though I know my mother, something of a geek like myself, was an avid fan of Doctor Who in its glory days. One of my earliest memories of Doctor Who is a bizarre one. It was 1999. I can tell you that for a certainty because I saw this episode just before I went to see Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace for the first time. Before I truly understood the genius of the first three films and how Empire Strikes Back is the best by far.
But I digress. It was 1999. And it was perhaps the most epic of classic Doctor Who episodes to watch. It was, at the very least, the first part of..."Genesis of the Daleks". It was years later that I was talking to my mum about these episodes and she told me her favourite part...the part, which, as a child, had her on the edge of her seat screaming at the screen.
For those who have not seen "Genesis of the Daleks" and would prefer to watch it without knowing what happens...I'd stop reading about here...at least just skip over the next paragraph. Or two.
It was the Doctor. (*The* Doctor for all you Tom Baker loyalists out there). Holding two frayed lengths of wire. All he had to do was touch the wires together and *BOOM*, that's it, no more Daleks. But he hesitates. Two wires. Staring at these frayed copper conductors, he realises that of all the things he can do as a Time Lord, he cannot do this. He cannot destroy the Daleks. It would undo too much, destroy too much history, too much of the timeline. Too much of his timeline. Even though his companions are urging to do it, to end the most terrifying threat the Universe has ever known, the Doctor...spares the Daleks.
A part of me wishes I could go back and tell my ten year-old self just how incredibly important a moment that was, just how brilliant the writers were for putting the Doctor into that position.
Of course, six years later (2005), Doctor Who made one heck of a comeback. In the clever guise of Christopher Eccleston with the brilliant line "So? Lots of planets have a north!" to explain his accent, Doctor Who once again caught the hearts and minds of the British public. And in those last seven years...well. We've had Christopher Eccleston, David Tennant and Matt Smith, all fantastic Doctors with wonderful companions but...
...well...
...a lot of my friends will be rolling their eyes here, but...well...
...it's totally all about Amy Pond.
I'll hold my hand up and admit it - feisty red head with a Scottish accent and a knack for being...well, fiery, determined and thoroughly Scottish? You're godsdamn right I went head over heels when this girl stormed onto our screens in 2011 screaming lines like "Twelve years and four psychiatrists!"
But that isn't the finest moment in Doctor Who. As much as I love Amy Pond and think she is wonderful (and Karen Gillan a fantastic actress), there is one episode that stands out above all others, that for me marks the high point of Doctor Who.
"Blink".
It's 2007. David Tennant is the Tenth Doctor. Freema Agyeman is his companion, Doctor Martha Jones. And yet this episode, this brilliant, brilliant episode features for them for probably a grand total of five minutes. For there's two things that steal the show - the beautiful, incredible leading lady Sally Sparrow (Carey Mulligan) and one of the most terrifying nemeses the Doctor has ever faced.
The Weeping Angels.
I'm sure I've mentioned it before, but as a writer there are things you read or watch and you're thinking "Oh gods, why the frak didn't I think of that first?" I can honestly say, the Weeping Angels are up there. In fact, I might do a top ten list of things I wish I had thought up first in terms of genius storylines/ideas. And the Weeping Angels are definitely up there.
While their appearance in the 2011 series dulled their fire just a tad, the Weeping Angels remain one of the finest creations to come from the mind of head writer Steven Moffat. And when I was reading China Miéville's Perdido Street Station, the central "villains"/monsters, the slake-moths...they reminded me a little of the Weeping Angels. Insofar as when I was reading Perdido Street Station and the excitement that gripped me when the slake-moths were introduced convinced me that China Miéville should write an episode of Doctor Who.
Of course, no one would ever, ever sleep at night. Ever again. Yet I can't help feeling it would be *SO* worth it. Anyone else with me on this one? Might be a bit late for series seven (the trailers for which look EPIC), but maybe series eight, eh? I think it would be an epic idea. Neil Gaiman wrote an episode, why shouldn't China Miéville? *Sod's Law follows that China Miéville hates Doctor Who...*
Yes, it's time to quote the wise and wonderful Captain Malcolm Reynolds. In fact, it's always time to quote Mal, but right now is even more appropriate than usual, because I feel like making a list. The first of many random lists I'm probably going to do in the course of my blogging "career". Today's list: my top ten favourite starships.
I apologise in advance if any spoilers creep in to my ramblings. I'm going to do my darned best to avoid them, but no guarantees. You have been forewarned!
So, in order from ten to one, here are the best and brightest vessels in the 'Verse.
10: Battlestar Pegasus (BS-62)
She's big, she's bad, she's nicknamed "The Beast". She's Battlestar Pegasus, the latest, shiniest addition to the Colonial Fleet's arsenal prior to the Fall of the Twelve Colonies. Commanded by the ruthless Rear Admiral Helena Cain, this Mercury-class battlestar survived the Cylon assault on the Scorpion Fleet Shipyards, then went on to royally piss the Cylons off with hit-and-run attacks before she encountered Battlestar Galactica and the remains of humanity.
9: USS Defiant (NX-74205)
In the tough nugget, bad-ass starship category, USS Defiant is Starfleet's niftiest contribution. Compared to other starships, she may not be the biggest, but with pulse phasers and quantum torpedoes, not to mention a Romulan cloaking device, she's one of the meanest ships in Starfleet. And under the command of Captain Benjamin Sisko, she went around beating the living crap out of Cardassians and Jem'Hadar alike during the Dominion War.
8: USS Daedalus (BC-304)
Slipping in at 8 is the United States Air Force and its beautiful, kick-ass battlecruiser, USS Daedalus. Commanded by Colonel Steven Caldwell (played by X-Files alumni Mitch Pileggi - I won't deny the squee of happiness when I first saw him on Daedalus's bridge), this beast first saw action during the Wraith Siege of Atlantis. Since then, she's been outfitted with Asgard beam weapons and has generally gone tearing around the Pegasus Galaxy, beating the living crap out of any ships dumb enough to oppose the USAF's shiniest battlecruiser. Also joined by sister ships USS Odyssey, USS Apollo and USS George Hammond.
7: Super Star Destroyer Executor
When she first appears in Empire Strikes Back, you know some serious shit is going down. Darth Vader's flagship is probably the meanest entry in the Imperial Navy's arsenal after the timely demise of the Death Star. Easily as big as the Death Star itself (albeit flattened out), Executor spells doom to any Rebels as soon as it jumps into a star system. Well, at least it did until a poxy little A-Wing crashed into the bridge and took the whole thing out at the Battle of Endor. Up until then...she was a pretty bad-ass ship. Oh well. It was only because Darth Vader wasn't breathing heavily over everyone's shoulders and Force-choking dumb-ass admirals.
6: USS Enterprise (NCC-1701)
Specifically the NCC-1701 from the new movie. Although the original ship from the Original Series was beautiful, JJ Abrams injects new life into James T. Kirk's famous first command. Combine its gorgeous "ample nacelles" (thanks, Scotty) with her awesome crew and you have a pretty bad-ass ship. Best choice for Federation flagship by far...
5: USS Enterprise (NCC-1701-E)
...until you consider this beauty. While Kirk's Enterprise is a wonderful ship, she will never be as beautiful as Enterprise-E or have a captain as amazing and classically trained as the one and only Jean-Luc Picard. While his more famous command was Enterprise-D, it's Enterprise-E that steals the show here. And with the aforementioned captain at the helm, she beats out both Defiant and the "original" Enterprise as best ship in Starfleet. But does she really clinch the title? Let's see...
4: SSV Normandy (SR-1)
Coming in at 4 is Mass Effect's SSV Normandy, a nifty little ship, product of a collaboration between the Systems Alliance and the Turian Hierarchy. Equipped with an experimental drive core and stealth systems to make every other race in the galaxy weep, the flagship of humanity's first Spectre is a cheeky little number that anyone should be proud to command. And when piloted by Seth frakking Green...what more could you ask for?
3: USS Prometheus (NX-59650)
Alas, Enterprise-E, in spite of its Shakespeare-trained captain, failed to clinch the honour of Starfleet's best and brightest. That honour falls to USS Prometheus, featured only once (well, in focus), during the Star Trek: Voyager episode "Message in a Bottle". So what sets Prometheus apart from Defiant, Enterprise and Enterprise-E? Easy. Multi-vector assault mode. Built specifically for combat in the Dominion War, Prometheus is capable of splitting into three separate, fully-armed, warp-capable sections. Three-in-one starship? Now that's frakking bad-ass!
2: Battlestar Galactica (BS-75)
When it comes to bad-ass, though, no ship in any universe whatsoever beats this beauty. Star of the eponymous show, Battlestar Galactica is one of the toughest, most sublimely beautiful warships in existence. Over its long, long career, it's been nuked, tangled with numerous Cylon basestars and never fails to come out swinging. Under the faithful command of William Adama, it's no wonder humanity survived the Fall of the Twelve Colonies when they had this motherfrakker showing those frakking Toasters who's boss!
1: Serenity (03-K64)
Here she is. By far, indisputably, the most beautiful ship in the 'Verse. I won't lie. I want one. I want to live on it. She may not have weapons, but she's a ship you can love. Makes her home :) And she's so small, you could probably fit in her Galactica's flight pods, which means I could have both my favourite starships together. I could go on and on about why I love this ship, but just watch Firefly, watch Serenity, then you shall understand the true awesomeness of this humble cargo ship.
So there you have it. My (personal) top ten favourite starships. Feel free to scream at me for missing off ships you love, or to praise my selection. I hope you've all enjoyed this, as I hope to make more top tens. Proposed topics - sci-fi ladies and favourite starfighters. Until then, this has been my top ten favourite starships :D
