Tabletop Roleplaying Review: Diaspora

    In spite of being into the hobby of Tabletop RPGs since I was a lad back in the 80s, and in spite of being a science fiction nerd, I have never played the grand old game of “Traveller,” not only one of the first commercially available rpgs, but THE Science Fiction game. It’s squarely set in the Asimov/Heinlein/Clarke/Niven side of things (less woo, more tech). I always meant to get around to trying it, but never did. Then a few years ago, I saw a review of “Diaspora” from VSCA Publishing. It grew out of a group’s enjoyment of Traveller, but hunger for a different style of play. They’ve used the Fate system, which I’ve heard a lot about, but haven’t used at all. Generally, it looked like a very group storytelling focused, harder Science Fiction game than is typical; and that made me curious.

    I’ve skimmed it a few times, reading a couple chapters several times over the years since I bought it. But this time around, I decided to get serious and really read it thoroughly. And that became a strange trip. Early on, reading about system creation and character creation, I kept thinking; “stop everything! I want to grab some friends and start playing this game right now.” But then, as I got into the ‘mini-game’ sections about melee, space, and social combat...my excitement kinda died, and reading the final section of the book was almost an afterthought.

    The system and character creation segments are great, and I very much want to use them in a game at some point. What makes it different from many games I’ve seen is that it’s such a group effort. The group, including the referee/game master/what have you, all take part in the creation of the setting you’re going to play in (a small collection of linked star systems called a ‘Cluster’).  Each person takes some ownership over a system, and as a table, you all make choices and forge the relationships between those star systems.  This is where tech levels and resources are figured out.  A player roles for certain numbers, but then interprets those numbers in whatever way makes sense.  There is a great little example, where they present a set of rolled statistics for a system, then show multiple variations on what that might mean.  You could easily have two players roll exactly the same numbers, but come up with completely different systems when they interpret what those numbers mean.  I like that a lot.

Then, with those systems as a background, you all create your characters. And part of character creation involves linking yours to another, so that while not every character has a direct connection to every other character, the group as a whole is linked in some way (like a chain).  I also really like that the characters don’t start out as low level schlubs who have to crawl and beg and fight to be able to gain enough power to do anything of note.  You’re playing characters that are important people, interesting people, shapers, doers, legend makers.  If you take the a skill at what they call ‘apex’ level (and you will take one at that), you’re not just good at something, you’re legendary.  You’re the neurosurgeon who was brought in when the president had a brain tumor.  You’re the actor who keeps winning the top award for performance in the 3D Vids.  You’re the barroom brawler who rose to be Zero-G boxing champion of the Antares system.  You’re the soft-spoken politician who swept the planet in a grassroots campaign of reform.  Essentially, you’re playing important people.  Not necessarily famous, but important to how the future of the cluster is shaped.

Then the game lost me.  Once it got past the creation of the setting and the characters, it gets into plug-in mini-games for determining various types of conflict.  I didn’t care for any of them, particularly, and I don’t care for the extremely ‘plugged-in’ feeling of them.  It’s almost like in a lot of older computer rpgs, where your party icon might be wandering around a large map, then you come across a monster and it zooms in to a little tactical map and do a totally different kind of game.  I didn’t like it in computer games.  I really don’t like it in a tabletop game.  Combat tends to be one of my least favorite parts of a game, because in a lot of systems it stalls the story.  These plug-in games seem to do that on another level.

So I did what I find myself doing so often. I mentally edited things.  I started looking at it like a salad bar; take what I like and leave the rest.  There’s so much good stuff about ‘the table’ having control.  A lot of stuff encouraging group connection and determination.  The way system and character creation is done, you might not even have a game master when you sit down to the table.  And I could see the game master job changing hands multiple times during a campaign.  That’s kind of exciting.  I like when players and their characters are drivers of the story and plot.  But I don’t see myself running or getting together a group for Diaspora as it is.  I think it will be like some other games with interesting mechanics I’ve read.  It will inform how I run a different game.  It does make me interested in other Fate games, as the mechanics for that seem very easy and intuitive.  I’ve heard very good things about “Mindjammers,” and could see using some of the better elements of “Diaspora” with that or a game like it.

-Matthew J. Constantine

Dork Art: Austin Purser’s Travel Posters

    I love retro travel posters.  There’s a wonderful, hopeful exuberance to their simplistic and colorful technique.  They put me in a certain mood, a mood I enjoy living in.

    So, seeing these awesome retro-style travel posters to various literary lands and worlds is quite nice.  I think Austin Purser has captured the flavor quite well, and I like the variety of locations he’s chosen.

     Anyone looking for a Christmas present for this Dork could sure do worse (hint: I'd love to see Yuggoth this time of year).

-Matt

Movie Review: 2010

    The release of 2001 was a watershed moment, generally for film and specifically for Science Fiction.  So, 15 years later, when 2010 was released, it had HUGE shoes to fill, and in many ways was destined for failure.  Nobody could help but compare it to the first film, though I think the comparisons are often unfair.  It is a different monster.  2001 was made at the same time author Arthur C. Clarke wrote the novel (based on his short story The Sentinel), and when he wrote the follow-up book, he based it primarily on the film, not his book (using Jupiter instead of Saturn, for example).  This movie, while connecting to the first film, is more adaptation of the book 2010 than it is sequel to the film 2001.  If that makes sense.  The design of Discovery remains the same.  Kier Dullea returns.  Otherwise, in look, tone, style, etc. it is its own film.  The cynicism of the 70s and the Cold War tensions of the 80s have tempered the hopeful exuberance of the first movie.

   The set design, lighting, costumes, and even effects feel more in tune with Alien, Aliens, and Outland (also directed by Peter Hyams) than with the sleek ultra-modern 60s look of 2001.  This makes it feel a bit more realistic, in a sense.  More lived in.  Less pristine.  And I think it makes the overall feel of the film more timeless.  Though all the Cold War posturing anchors it fairly solidly.  Though, like a lot of other visions of the future, a lot of the technology (especially computers and computer interfaces) look downright primitive.  Like in 2001, there are some serious attempts to achieve a degree of scientific accuracy.  The use of atmosphere to break the speed of the ship, the spinning section of the ship to give some gravity, etc.  Sadly, there is sound in space.  A lot of it is muffled, but I would have much preferred a totally silent vacuum.

    As far as the story goes, it’s a pretty good concept.  Years after the failure of the Discovery mission, the loss of the crew, and the disappearance of Dave, a combined Russian-American mission heads out to investigate the incident, as well as new anomalous readings.  In the book, the US and USSR had achieved a degree of peace, with the Chinese serving as a kind of rival expedition (setting up one of my favorite scenes in the book, when the Chinese discover something green and nasty).  In the film, we’re still stuck in a never-ending conflict with the Soviets, and the mission is a tension filled exercise in strange bedfellows.  I remember seeing this for the first time as a boy, while the Cold War still seemed like something that would go on forever, or until we blew each other off the face of the Earth.  This film’s hopeful message of cooperation was heartening to a young boy.

    One of my favorite aspects of this film is the exploration of Hal and in a sense, his redemption.  Hal was a villain of circumstance, not malice.  The stuff with Dave is also interesting.  Part of me wanted to go on with the novels, but I’ve never heard a good word of the books after 2010.  The potential of Hal and Dave and where they could help take humanity is fascinating.

    If you try to compare this movie with the artistic and critical triumph that was 2001, it will not live up.  If you watch this simply as a science fiction film, it’s actually quite good.  It has a good cast with lots of good character moments.  There are a few questions of morality and ethics.  It has excellent special effects and production design.  It is, by most standards, a very good movie.  Perfect?  No.  But very good.  I think its treatment by fans has been less than kind and less than fair.  And I would recommend giving it another go to anyone who hasn’t seen it in a while.

-Matt

Movie Review: 2001 A Space Odyssey

    I’m quite sure there are numerous scholarly reviews, interpretations, and explorations of Stanley Kubrick’s seminal science fiction film, 2001.  Well, that’s never stopped me before.  I saw this movie when I was about 11 or 12, I’m not sure.  I rented it and the sequel 2010 and watched them back to back.  I remember watching 2001 blankly, not really understanding everything after the confrontation with Hal.  But 2010 gave me enough of an explanation that I thought I pretty much understood the movie…sort of.  It took me a long time to come back to it, by which point I’d developed more of an interest in the music and in special effects.  Over multiple viewings I started to develop some kind of sense of the film, but it was only when I read the book that I felt fully comfortable with it; especially the ending, which makes much more sense in the book.

    It opens on a bunch of primitive, pre-humans living their short, brutal lives.  Exposed to the elements and predation, they live at the whim of nature.  But, with the dramatic arrival of a giant, impassive black monolith, the spark of invention is kindled, and tool use follows.  With the tool (in this case, a club) these pre-humans are able to take some control of their lives.  From there, we jump forward to the future (1969’s future) of the year 2001 and find Dr. Haywood Floyd on his way first to a space station, then on to the Moon.  The special effects and designs are very impressive here.  Top notch model work that holds up extremely well today.  Remember that this movie was made at a time when we still had the will and wherewithal to embrace science and technology, and most honestly believed that living in space wasn’t just a possibility, but an inevitability.  It was a given.  And we were on our way to making that dream a reality, before we lost our collective nerve.  What Kubrick presents is a fairly realistic view of what life in space might have looked like (and still might).  There was a great deal of effort put into making the tech as realistic as possible.  Floyd is on his way to the Moon to deal with a recent discovery; a large black monolith buried for four million years in lunar surface.  From there, we hop forward several months to a deep space mission on its way to Jupiter.  Here astronauts Dave and Frank, and ships computer Hal deal with the stresses and anticipation of the mission.  After some differences of opinion Dave continues on to something far beyond anyone’s expectations.

    2001 postulates alien intervention in the assent of Man, but a mostly hands-off policy.  They lit a spark and let it take whatever course it might, leaving a marker or sentinel on the Moon.  When/if someone could find it, it would lead the way to the next step.  Dave takes that next step into new ground, becoming something more than Human, the Star Child.  That’s all there really is to the story.  It’s very simple.  But it reveals itself in small bites, forcing you to build the story around the framework presented.  I wonder if this is some of what makes the film feel so profound.  We create a lot of the content to fill in the blank spaces.

    Classical music used during many of the space sequences is a cool touch, bringing our history along with us into the future, bringing the beauty we’ve created with us to the stars.  And the haunting and strange music that accompanies the monolith is unsettling in the extreme.  Music is very important to the film, especially because Kubrick did that thing so few have, and kept space silent.  The sound design is especially effective.  Like the scene where Dave is going out to repair part of the ship, and all you hear for several minutes is his breathing, a lonely sound from a man suspended in the emptiness of eternity.  In a movie where there is very little dialog, sound effects and music become a key element in the storytelling.

    There are so many aspects of this film that were ground breaking and inspirational for generations of filmmakers.  Obviously, the effects pushed the boundaries of the time, setting the stage for Star Wars and Aliens, which themselves would become the foundation of science fiction films to come.  But I think one thing in the film has had an especially profound, and unfortunate, lasting legacy.  Hal came to embody our cultural fear of progress, machines, computers, and the future.  That sinister red eye and mellow menacing voice.  The simple calculations and logic of murder.  The perfect machine, given near total control, driven mad by doubt.  If we make a machine as smart or smarter than us, will it have our weaknesses of character?  Will it hate or fear?  Will it hate or fear us?  While I think these are important and valid concerns and questions, I am bothered by how quickly and completely they were embraced by the public and by movie makers.  From Hal on, there are precious few benevolent computers, so few stories about the birth of A.I. that don’t involve a clash or war with Humanity.  From Dark Star to The Terminator to The Matrix, almost every time a computer gets a little power in a science fiction movie, it turns mad or murderous.  One of the reasons I liked Moon so much is that even though they set up a situation where the A.I. could easily turn out to be the villain, it didn’t.  Now, Hal has something of a redemption in 2010, but that movie barely registered with the collective zeitgeist, and so Hal remains the archetype of murderous artificial intelligence.

    2001 stands as a watershed moment in science fiction film.  There is what came before, and what came after.  It changed the game, redefined how the genre would be put on the silver screen, and upped the ante by an unprecedented amount.  And seeing movies like Solaris, The Fountain, or Moon lets you know that its presence is still very real in the hearts and minds of movie makers.  It was sort of a summation of the hopes and dreams of an era, and can still inspire new generations, in spite of the high marks it set that we failed to achieve.  And if nothing else, it’s an audio-visual journey like no other.  A unique film that deserves its classic status, and should appeal to much more than just genre fans.

-Matt