Seventy Maxims, at Long, Long Last

Let’s say, just for the sake of argument, that you’re not interested in the Planet Mercenary RPG. How could I possibly tempt you into that Kickstarter? What product could be sufficiently enticing to bring you over to our project page and enter a pledge?

The answer? Provide something that I’ve been anxious, thrilled, and quiveringly-excited about for months now:

The Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries

We have a pledge level for the Seventy Maxims book.

This isn’t just 70 pages of aphorisms. It’s not something that would fit in the wiki, or on a poster. This is the hardback version of Karl Tagon’s personal copy of the 3001 CE Edition of The Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries.  This is an in-universe artifact.

To introduce you to it, here is a block of text from the introduction:

In 2992, in a speech to the CDF Acadamy graduating class, Rear Admiral M. Randall Aarikaida dismissed the book as “an irreverent, irresponsible volume of malevolent canon.” In that same speech, however, he paraphrased maxims 9, 15, 35, and 70 without attribution, unconsciously cementing its importance in the field, and launching countless dissertations which focused on the cultural ubiquity of the very thing he was dismissing.

This edition serves as a distillation of that scholarship. The maxims are accompanied by commentary and corollaries, paraphrased, and in many cases translated from the original, unintelligible jargon so that the modern reader might grasp the essential point. By so doing we’ve made this book more accessible, and more affordable because now we don’t need to pay any of those scholars the ridiculous royalties they demand.

Barring handling them for yourself, the pages themselves are best experienced with an image:

This page is one of our early proof-of-concept versions, but it shows off the spirit of the thing. Don’t worry: the paper we use will NOT have a printed weathering on it. The weathering in this image is there to evoke the fact that we’ll be using a very toothy, heavy paper with a cream color to it.

The boxed text contains the maxims themselves. The text below that is “schlolarly commentary” which, as suggested by the excerpt above the image, is going to be all over the map.

The red-pen notes are from Karl Tagon, who acquired this book as an enlistee in 3044. His sergeant at the time told him he should use it as a journal of sorts, and so we’ll get an unordered series of snapshots of his military career. Paging back and forth to put the notes in order will be part of the joy of having this in hard-copy.

The blue-pen note above is from Alexia Murtaugh, to whom Karl loaned the book. (Well, “will-have loaned.” That bit of story has yet to appear on line.) While the book is in Murtaugh’s possession it is going to get picked up and scribbled in by a few others, including Sergeant Schlock.

We will leave room for you to write in it yourself, of course.


 

Note: PDF and eBook development is a project for another year. The final product wants to be rotated in your hands, dog-eared, thumbed through with multiple fingers holding your places.  It is not impossible to translate the experience into a purely electronic format, of course. Just time consuming. For now, we’re offering an in-universe artifact that is meant to be handled, and left out for guests to marvel over.

“Build me a prototype, dear.”

Alan and I have a plan for Planet Mercenary Game Chief screens, and it involves building something more modular, expandable, and ultimately more useful than the traditional tri-fold (or quad- or quint-fold) screen that has become the industry standard.

I bought some plastic clips and some comic book backing board, envisioned what I wanted, and ran into a conflict. I wanted to spend several hours making comics today, AND I wanted to spend several hours building a really cool prototype.

My twenty-year-old daughter Keliana, home from school where she’s majoring in illustration, was awake and exploring breakfast options in the kitchen.

“Hey, K. Can you build a thing for me?”

“What kind of thing?”

“You’ll need the mat cutter, some spray paint, my hot-wire knife, my sculpting tools, and probably tape and glue. I want to make this—” I pointed at the stack of backing board and clips “—look like this. ” I held a map pin up at the corner of the screen of my Chromebook.

“Okay, I can see it…” she said.

“I’ll make a steak quesadilla for your breakfast, and you’re on the clock for whatever Mom’s paying you as of the word ‘go.'”

“Tenderloin steak?”

“And green chiles, fresh tortillas, and green onion.”

“Go.”

As I write this, Keliana is upstairs taking a hot-wire knife to some clips that are *almost* the right shape. We’ve finished off the quesadilla, and now I can dive into making comics while reveling in the fact that a minion who once was barely useful enough to do dishes can now be handed a complex project, and can trusted to make it beautiful.

It’s been a long time coming. Also, we had to increase her allowance to the point that she gets a W2 at the end of the year.

Galavant: Just Buy It Already

My oldest daughter came back from college and told me I needed to see something called “Galavant” on the television. We don’t do cable in my house so I Youtubed some trailers, got hooked, and checked it out on Amazon Instant Video.

Galavant is a trope-ridden medieval fantasy comedy musical. How such a thing existed without me knowing about it without the help of my children reflects poorly on me.

If you enjoyed the musical episodes of Buffy and Community, if you sing along with Doctor Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog, you should buy Season 1 of Galavant on one of the services where it’s available (Amazon, Google Play, and iTunes.) I bought the HD version on Amazon and have now watched the whole thing three times through.

I’m not a fan of the streaming model, where I pay “own the whole thing” prices, but can’t actually watch unless I have a persistent connection and a DRM-ish browser window. Galavant is good enough that I’m perfectly happy to tell myself that I paid $20 to rent it. I got 176 minutes of great programming. I’ve spent more than that for movies half that long, and no lie, if Galavant were a theatrical release I would rank it above everything I’ve seen so far this year, including The Avengers. In fact, I came home from The Avengers excited to hurry up and write a review so I could watch Galavant.

Seriously, when it comes out on Blu-Ray I’ll probably buy it again.

Am I gushing? Yes. I don’t do this often.

The Avengers: Age of Ultron

I’m not going to convince you to see, or not see, Age of Ultron. I’m not going to spoil anything for you either. I’m just giving you three bullets:

  • AvengersUltronI have a new favorite movie for 2015 (as of this writing.)
  • It earned its high and low points.
  • Marvel has successfully extended their line of credit with me through their next two cinematic releases, no matter what those releases are*.

If you’re planning to see The Avengers: Age of Ultron you are in for a treat. Also, be warned that there are spoilers you definitely don’t want, so don’t delay, and until you see the film you should steer clear of reviews, comments threads, and inconsiderate people.

Once you’ve seen it, and you see that both Brian Tyler and Danny Elfman worked on the score, you may wish to pick up the soundtrack which is available on Amazon, iTunes, and Google Play (it’s 50 cents cheaper from Google and Amazon.) I’m listening to it as I write…

(*note: Ant Man and Captain America: Civil War. I checked. Not that it would have mattered.)

 

 

Writer, Illustrator, Consumer