The Jackal was a movie from 1997 that followed the villain (Bruce Willis) as much as the hero (Richard Gere). While the movie had some flaws, especially Gere’s fake accent, I do really like that concept of following a villain as much as a hero. It can work well in a lot of contexts. Has to be the right type of villain though. Complex and interesting, or entertaining. Arcane did that too, which is part of why I liked it.

Gm St. Louis is a pretty awesome city.

One of like two times a year I wear a dress. View quoted note →

There are some forms of age censorship or ratings that, when you examine them, are kind of backwards. An example is the Yugioh dub. When Yugioh was dubbed into English and played on western cartoon networks, they didn’t want to show as much death as in the original Japanese version, even though they were for the same age group. Just different cultural standards. So for the dub they created the concept of the Shadow Realm, and so instead of getting killed by a death trap, someone will instead have their soul sent to an eternity of darkness. Hell, basically. This was considered more suitable for children as a concept: eternal darkness and unhappiness rather than physical death. A lot of Brandon Sanderson books are kind of PG-13. There is a lot of action and death, but usually not a lot of blood or gore, curse words are in fantasy language and thus mostly don’t count. But like, some characters get magically tortured in agony for centuries. Just not in a bloody way. My novel draft is basically a rated R book. Violence, blood, curses from characters that would curse, etc. But ironically far scarier things happen in Sanderson novels than mine! Nobody gets a century of agony in mine. Just good old fashion normal temporary agony. But because it’s more explicit, that makes it equivalent to R.

Western animation is ethically weak lately. This is a post that analyzes one of the most heartbreaking moments in children’s television history, and one that has stuck with me almost two decades later. But the broader theme is that I find it interesting partially because these types of instances measure what a society considers its maturity level to be. It’s like a sensor gage on a given generation. It’s about the death of Ace in the finale of Justice League Unlimited, which is a bigger deal than it sounds like. A child died in the final episode of a 14-year kids' series, which is unheard of. It ended one of the biggest animated epics ever, and was the biggest gut punch I ever had as a kid watching a show vs what kids watch now. And it’s about how it relates to modern animation. But as a preamble, I’ll first highlight the social importance of the Marvel Cinematic Universe which most readers will recognize in more recent terms. Its main story line from Iron Man in 2008 until Avengers Endgame in 2019 was an epic run, in terms of social awareness and revenue. There are movies in the universe after that, and there are more planned out to at least 2027, but that core 11-year period was the key story arc from beginning to end focusing on its original hero and its major villain. And it wasn’t easy to copy: Warner Bros tried to do it for the DC superheroes but couldn’t build that same scope due to their shitty bureaucracy and entering it secondarily. The MCU was known for cool action, but also its frequent use of humor. It was exceptionally well-played even as it was criticized sometimes. But many older Millennials and younger GenX’ers know that DC had a prior strong run: The DC Animated Universe, or DCAU. Marvel had good animated content back then, but it was DC that won market share in that era. That was the golden age of DC comics animated shows. And for animation, it was *super* serious. It started with Batman the Animated Series in 1992, and ended with Justice League Unlimited in 2006, 14 years later. It included the Batman series, the Superman series, the Batman Beyond series, Justice League, and Justice League Unlimited. It was a shared universe where continuity between shows mattered, and it was all under the same executive production of Bruce Timm. So, it’s sometimes called the Timmverse. If you ask me who my favorite Batman is, I’ll say Kevin Conroy, the guy who voiced Batman in that universe. My default base version of Batman is the Bruce Timm and Kevin Conroy version. Absolutely legendary in terms of quality and quantity. Everything else relative to that is a smaller adaption from my perspective. It was generation-defining. It’s a generation-defining set of stories. In my mid-thirties, this series still affects my aesthetics of storytelling and fiction. When I’m seventy I’ll still remember this series. For many kids at the time, this series of shows was absolutely defining. The core of western animation at the time. It was super serious, and explored all sorts of moral themes. And notably, unlike Avatar (2005-2008) and other shows that came at similar times and later, the DCAU was a series of kids’ shows that featured almost all adults. We, as kids at the time, watched adults solve adult problems in this universe, because realistically adults solve adult problems. Not a fun-group of kids on an adventure. I liked kid-based Avatar the Last Airbender and similar kid franchises like Teen Titans, Legend of Korra, and the more recent She-Ra, but kids and teens solving world-ending issues inherently brings unbelievability. Even as a kid, I was like, “nah it’s unrealistic that people my age would solve this shit” and wanted to see adults like Batman and Hawk Girl Shayera solve adult problems. And that’s what the DCAU did for 14 years from 1992 to 2006. A show featuring mostly adults, but for teens. But to bring this post to a point, I’ll just describe the ending of this 14-year shared universe. Because it’s what someone like Bruce Timm does when he runs all of it. Batman Beyond, which was set in the future with a super-old Bruce Wayne and his young protégé was a well-received show from 1999 to 2001 but never had a solid climax. They instead put their focus into Justice League and Justice League Unlimited instead, which was also amazing and ran from 2001 to 2006. So, when it came time to end Justice League Unlimited, and their overall universe, how did they do it? The penultimate episode of Justice League Unlimited involved fighting their final external villain as would be expected. Darkseid acquired Brainiac technology, and became a god-tier threat for the climax. Superman finally dropped all of his social safeguards, admitting that he always holds back because the world feels like cardboard for him and he wants to be safe around it, but that he has to unleash it all now, and decided to absolutely fucking rekt him despite all external consequences it might cause. Even then, he also needed Lex Luthor to help take this threat out. It was a big external situation. But because this 14-year universe was well-written, they didn’t end on just that action stuff. After that climax, they resolved it on character depth. They started their story with Batman in 1992, and they never got an actual Batman Beyond finale, and so they decided to end their 2006 Justice League series with a Batman Beyond true finale set deep in the future to finish the Batman arc as the core of the multi-series. That’s the benefit of having an executive producer that oversees all of this. Continuity and conclusion. In that finale episode, which closes both Justice League and Batman Beyond, Bruce Wayne’s 30-ish protégé Terry McGinness is having an existential crisis while Bruce Wayne is like 90 or 100+ years old and dying, and Terry talks to Amanda Waller, who was historically a mostly well-meaning villain but is now very old. And she is like, “if you want to know who Bruce Wayne is and who your legacy is, know this story.” And she tells the story that ends Justice League, back when Bruce’s Batman was still active. It serves as the ending for both Justice League and Batman Beyond. There was a young psychic girl named Ace, raised by Amanda Waller’s division. She could manipulate peoples’ minds to an absurd degree, and was a major threat in an episode several seasons ago that viewers were familiar with that Batman dealt with in the middle of the Justice League show. She was a young super-villain that didn’t want to be. The Joker gained control of her, and used her to do a major attack, which Batman had to deal with as the rest of the Justice League dealt with her weaker colleagues. And he dealt with her via kindness to appeal to Ace rather than hurting her as a child. She wasn’t malevolent; she was just manipulated by the Joker. And it worked. Amazing dialogue writing. Years later, there was the end-scene of Justice League, as recounted by Amanda Waller. Ace returned to Gotham. As a young teen girl now, she was dying. And as she died, due to her sheer power, the world around her became chaotic. Her powers were exceptional; she was almost omnipotent in like a 5-mile radius. Multiple superheroes tried to reach her, but couldn’t. Amanda Waller noted that she would have a fatal aneurysm in hours or days, and as she went through this process, it kept getting worse. When she died, she would likely take out the entire city of Gotham due to her own fear and chaos. Amanda had a device that could target Ace’s brain and kill her, but nobody could get close enough to activate it due to Ace’s crazy powers. Batman offered to do it. Amanda Waller was like, “nobody else can get close, and to be clear this will kill her,” and Batman was like, “I know. She met me before. She might let me get close. I’ll do it.” So, they sent Batman in. Nobody else could get close to Ace, but he alone could just walk through her defenses. As he reached her, she was like, “They’re afraid of me, aren’t they?” And he was likes, “Yes, they are.” She was like, “They trained me in a lab, robbed me of my childhood. And now I’m dying, aren’t I?” And he was like, “Yes, you are going to die. I’m sorry.” She was like, “I read your mind as you came to me. You never meant to use Amanda’s device to kill me. That’s why I let you get close.” And he was like, “No, of course not, Ace.” And he threw it away. And she cried and said she was afraid of dying, and asked if he would stay with her as she did. And he said of course he would. So Batman just sat on the swings next to this child and comforted her and was there for her for the rest of the day, until she died of her brain aneurysm. And because he calmed her down and made her peaceful, none of the devastating effects of her death happened. She didn’t die in a lethal explosion to the city as Amanda Waller feared; she died in a peaceful removal of her environmental effects thanks to Batman. And Batman carried her body out, sadly. After 14 years of action; that’s how the entire DCAU shared universe decided to end things. With Batman’s character in terms of how he deals with a dying child. Kindness over action. A sadness from multiple parties that can't be fixed, but can be met with kindness. Few western sub-18 shows today would touch something like that, let alone make it their moral resolution for a 14-year arc. This is my Batman.

I have some family members facing this damn hurricane. I hope all is well down there.

I think out of all Saturday morning cartoons I watched as a kid, Batman Beyond had the coolest intro song/video. It’s the only non-anime cartoon opener that I still remember today. Whenever the intro would play after whatever lame show it came after in the lineup, I’d be like “oh heck yeah!”

Does anyone have recommendations on an ideal way to buy bitcoin in Dubai? I have a friend there asking for recommendations.

The hardest part of my random crappy sci-fi novel hobby project, is going to be the first half of the third act. The first two acts were very well outlined ahead of time. This story idea has been bouncing around in my head for a long time, and so when it became time to write it, most of it flowed easily. And the climax of the third act has also been pretty well figured out for just as long. It's that late-middle part that's still kind of a black box. The first half of the third act. It's not that I have nothing planned there, but rather it's like I have three potential paths to choose from, and various combinations between those paths. Going to have to put a lot of thought into that section to tie the whole piece together.

The Tao Te Ching was libertarian like 2,500 years before libertarianism became a thing. Chapter 75: Stephen Mitchell translation: When taxes are too high, people go hungry. When the government is too intrusive, people lose their spirit. Act for the people's benefit. Trust them; leave them alone.

In my ongoing sci fi story, there was one character where I wasn't sure whether they would live or die at the end. I decided it today. I had outlined much of the plot from beginning to end with spots to fill in a while ago, but that particular outcome wasn't determined yet. But after writing 75k words, and experiencing that character a lot, it gave me the right vibes on what to do.

Been spending less time online this past week. More time walking, and more time writing offline.

Until election season is over, Twitter has reached rock-bottom to me. I won’t say it’s unusable, since I am using it, but I have to navigate around its main thing to continue with the positive elements of the network effect that exists there. And so many accounts are super biased on any given topic to a clearly irrational degree. I keep seeing things that seem like satire, but instead they are genuinely written to appeal to lower information people in a way that, from my perspective, is highly patronizing to them. I find it so distasteful. The prior election year 2020 had a lot of polarizing elements obviously, but 2024 has more clearly conscious polarizing elements going on. Large influencer accounts whose motives are clear toward a broader audience with talking points geared toward child-level rhetoric and civic understanding. You can watch them as an observer speaking to their flock as though they were children.

The gold standard that I reference as a baseline for how to write an exceptional supporting character in fiction, is Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes from Fullmetal Alchemist. Absolutely exceptional. Two decades after my initial reading of him, he’s still phenomenal. Fullmetal Alchemist, the mature manga/anime, has a world set in the early 1900s, except where alchemy is real magic, at least for the few people who dare to practice it. Alchemy is hard to do and has a high price. There’s also a massive alchemical conspiracy involved in the government and military that runs the main country of the setting. Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes is not an alchemist. He’s just a kind and hard-working 30-ish year old guy that is really good and experienced and at his job in military intelligence. He’s also great with throwing knives as his main hobby. In the early arcs of the story, Hughes befriends as a semi-mentor the younger main alchemical protagonists (Ed and Al) and is already a close friend with another military colleague major supporting senior character (Colonel Mustang, who is a flashier military officer and alchemist). Hughes is incredibly friendly and positive, and sometimes serves as comic relief. The funny, chill guy. As all these heroes run around, he focuses on his work. And unlike all of them, he’s a family man; his wife and young daughter mean the world to him. He always wants to show everyone pictures of his 4-year old daughter; he’s just absolutely thrilled about his family. But behind all the kindness, and correct obsession with his wife and daughter, he’s super smart. He’s a lieutenant colonel in military intelligence, after all. He’s not a genius or anything but basically he’s just highly competent professionally, socially, and ethically, and thus optimized his life well. He doesn’t pursue alchemy and so he doesn’t do all the magical things that some rare people do that can greatly exceed human capabilities in battles, but he’s great elsewhere. In his military intelligence research, partially from talking to the protagonists, he figures out the entire main villain plot before anyone else does. Before all the protagonists and other supporting characters. He then tries to go to a private (non-surveilled) payphone to share that information with his close colleague Colonel Mustang, and is murdered in the process. And that murder doesn’t go down smooth, since Maes isn’t a pushover. He gets attacked by a supernatural alchemical villain entity named Lust to stop him, and with his throwing knives he holds his own against her better than most humans would and manages to escape injured. And as he gets to the payphone, he is attacked by a second supernatural alchemical villain entity named Envy, who can transform into people. Envy transforms into a lower-ranking officer Hughes knows, but Hughes can tell it’s not really her from a minor detail, since he knows that officer well. So Envy transforms into Hughes’ wife. Since he adores his wife, that fucks him up even though he logically knows it’s not her. He hesitates at throwing a knife at his visual wife, and thus gets shot to death by Envy before he can relay the key information to Mustang and other heroes. He dies in the phone booth, seconds away from providing key information. He did everything right but was overwhelmed by the superior conspiracy. And yet his death left tiny clues. The funeral scene is hardcore. Hughes’ wife is devastated, and his young daughter doesn’t even fully understand the concept of death yet. She cries and panics out loud at the funeral, wondering how her father is going to finish all his work while he’s in a box underground, which makes all the adult main and supporting characters absolutely die inside at how hard that is to hear. Hughes gets post-humorously promoted two steps up to Brigadier General upon his death, by the key military leadership of the country who are behind the whole conspiracy. Colonel Mustang, who knows Hughes tried to contact him that night but doesn't know what about, devotes his entire focus for the rest of the story to figuring out what Hughes found and avenging his death. The protagonists (Ed and Al) are also devastated from it and keep him in mind. The death of this supporting character sends arguably the biggest shockwave through the series in terms of emotion and plot. It's not a throwaway. It raises the stakes, gets all the main and semi-main characters dialed in, and he never gets reborn or anything like that. Hughes never comes back. He’s dead, survived by his wife and daughter, and his friends have to deal with that fact until the end of the series. Few supporting character arcs hit harder than Maes Hughes, imo. Roughly two decades after first experiencing it, I’m still like, “damn.” That's one of those weeb generational impacts worth studying for fiction creators and appreciators.

One thing I've come to appreciate about fiction writing is that it's as much problem solving as it is creativity. Creativity is the spark of it. You start with a story idea. Vibes. And then there's the basics. You have to put in your hours on reading fiction, and looking up tutorials on dialogue, exposition, structure, etc. Basically, spend a thousand hours reading things you like and reviewing all the mostly-right rules so that you can selectively break them when need be. But the majority of the time actually spent on the craft, is problem solving. And as an engineer, that appeals to me. You have a series of scenes that need to happen for the story to occur, and have to figure out how to fill in the gaps to make one lead to another properly, i.e. mostly invisibly to the reader as though they're immersed and it's totally organic and really happened. And then you realize a plot hole with one of your scenes, and have to figure out how to tweak that scene or other scenes to fix the plot hole without creating more plot holes in a butterfly effect. It clicks all the same fun challenge sensors that my brain has when it comes to engineering design or financial analysis.

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