burndownthesun

[burndownthesun]

Bov Does ComicCon: The Final Day

Today began at 5am for no discernable reason. i woke up and was unable to get back to sleep.

After a few hours of watching Youtube I rose, Nosferatu-like, and went about the normal morning things before heading down to the shuttle stop.

It struck me later that this would be the last time I did that.

Upon arriving at the convention centre once again they weren’t letting people in, however after a short while they begrudgingly opened one set of doors. Luckily I am very large and was trained in crowd-navigation at an early age in rock shows and festivals, so I wasn’t outside for long.

After being ushered upstairs for seemingly no reason I realised I had some time before the appointed hour of 10am, so I bought a breakfast burrito and found a nearby counter to lean against while I ate it. 

I like to think I affected a cool, nonchalant lean but let’s be real: I was slamming tortilla-wrapped breakfast food into my face. I don’t think I even tasted it, such was my INSATIABLE RAVENY. (The correct word to use there is ‘revenousness’ but that’s rubbish and ‘raveny’ is much better. Shut up, I’m a writer.)

I quickly nipped outside to use my e-cig without drawing ire and stopped to watch the armoured people fight again. They’re always fighting, these armoured people. Perhaps that’s why they’re armoured.

Ten to ten rolled around so I headed into the room where D&D would occur.

There were seven of us eventually, led on our merry jaunt by ouur capable and pleasant DM, Kat (I am assuming ‘K’ over ‘C’ here but I suppose it could have been either).

I was a human fighter named Jon Ford. Jon is handy with a bow, so I stayed at the back flinging arrows around and tanking ranged attavks like a wall of stone (I nearly died).

We were also joined by our wizard, who it turns out is what is known as a ‘backseat DM’. He kept telling our proper DM what was happening when he attempted something pointless like trying to distract faceless plant monsters that already knew we were there. Our put-upon DM was gracious though, and rolled with it (snarf snarf).

After a few more attempts to do this he realised he wasn’t going to get to run the game and flounced off, taking his girlfriend (Our only other tank) with him, so I was left with low hitpoints and all the squishy halflings etc. to protect.

Because Jon has an intelligence of 11 (modifier +0), I played him dumb. So naturally when we came across a group of clearly mind-controlled frog people worshipping an amulet my first action was to immediately march up and inspect it. I did not expect the rest of the party to do the same.

We all became mesmerized and the frogs attacked us.

After a tense and bloody battle we returned the amulet to the proper authorities and that was our time.

I had a lot of fun. But thenm I always have a lot of fun playing RPGs.

After this I headed into the grand hall of STUFF again, but Sunday appear to be the day everyone takes their children to ComicCon so it was very busy, with armies of people leading little goblins around. I left in search air space, air and possibly lunch, eventually finding all three on the marina again at a Hawaiian fusion place called Roy’s. It was very nice.

After that I wandered into the Marriot, as that is where the official ComicCon merchandise was being sold. The line I joined was definitely the longest and slowest movving I have been in all weekend, but eventually I got to the front in time for the design I wanted in the size I wanted to be sold out.

I opted for my second choice and realised that the size down was actually a perfect fit, which buyed me up somewhat it must be said. America, where t-shirt sizes make sense.

I figured at this point that the STUFF hall might be a little clearer as it was 3:30 and the hall closes at 5. I was correct!

I managed to see a few things I had missed before and picked up a couple of t-shirts before a tannoy announced that the hall would be closing soon. I wandered back over to take a final longing look at the Beholder statue (it had no price tag so I assume it was set dressing and it never would have fit in my suitcase. Still, take from me what you will; you can never take my dreams) before heading for the door and scanning my badge out for the final time.

Then I headed back over the bridge. For the final time.

I was lining up for the shuttle when some people in the Interactive Zone next to thee stop began handing ice-cold cans of beverage over the fence to us.

I thought this was a noble gesture until I realised they were foisting their unsold stock on us and for good reason, as had we known of it’s foul corruption they couldn’t have GIVEN it away to us. Pepsi Fire it was called.

Whichever focus group okayed cinnamon-flavoured pepsi needs to be taken out and shot.

Of the seven of us, comrades in arms, who cracked the cans and took exploratory sips, one man said it was ‘ok’. The rest of us agreed it was vile and had a good laugh when some among our number went back for a second sip to discover it somehow worsens the more of it you drink.

Then I boarded the shuttle back to the hotel. For the final time.

When I got back here I realised this may very well be the final time I EVER do these things.

I don’t know if I will ever return to San Diego ComicCon.

That’s a sobering thought.

It’s a massively expensive endeavour to come here, both monetarily and in terms of time, not to mention how exhausting it is to be constantly bombarded with stimulus. I am sunburned, aching of shoulder and leg. Slightly blistered of toe.

According to the Samsung Health app I have walked no less than 17,000 steps each day, with one day edging into 27,600ish. I small amount of maths tells me I have walked 82.1 km or 51 miles since I landed in America. 51 miles in four days. Bless thee excellent hiking trainers I brought because if I had attempted this in my regular skate shoes I can only imagine the hobbling mess I would be right now. (In fact those of you who were in the Porto team last year will know precisely what sort of mess I’d be in.)

Oftentimes I found myself simply walking through hallways, not looking at things, not really processing. Just walking, completely overwhelmed. At these times I had to go and seek refuge somewhere like down on the marina. Somewhere quiet that I can collect myself. Perhaps it’s just me, but I need time to myself to bring some semblance of order to the myriad sensory inputs.

It has been an insane weekend. An overwhelming torrent of sound and colour and people and shapes and things. 

This is not to say that I haven’t enjoyed it immensely. Indeed, I have loved every minute of this mad onslaught.

But I don’t know if I’m ever going to come back.

This was an experience like no other, and one that I’m so pleased to scratch off my list. I hope that I do get to return one day, preferably with a friend or two. But it will never be like this time; I will be a more practised hand by then, with set goals and not simply meandering around. The wonder of seeing all this with totally fresh eyes and mind will be long gone. You can never fall in the same river twice, as wise people have said.

I hope that I return.

But I can not know for sure.

Thus then was the end of ComicCon 2017

I am in San Diego a few more days before I leave for home (yet another awful plane journey, hooray).

It will be interesting to see the city in a less crowded, quieter state.

I want to check out a few places recommended to me that are away from the area I have been frequenting, too

Perhaps I will go to the zoo, who can say?

This however will probably be my final missive from here.

Thank you for taking the time to read my musings. I hope I have given you a window into my life in some small way, and I hope you enjoyed the journey almost as much as I have.

I feel that when I leave I could miss it here.

For now though, good night, and goodbye.

J Bov. 

[burndownthesun]

Bov Does Comic Con: Day 3

Day 3 began all in a mad rush as I woke slightly later than intended and had to get ready and down to the shuttle in time to make the Talks Machina/Critical Role panel at 10:30am.

Upon arriving at the convention centre I found a whole lot of people queueing to get in. Not the regular lines either, this was something stranger.

For some reason they weren’t letting us in. I could see people inside milling about, but the doors were closed (except one set I saw that were half open). About 30 minutes later, with no explanation at all, they set of four doors I was waiting beside had one of their number opened and people allowed through. One door. For approximately 1000 people.

I don’t understand what they were going for but whatever, that was that. I made it up to the panel room and was sent around the building and outside to join a long line snaking around inside a gazebo. It looked like a no-hoper until we started moving, whereupon it became clear that the room for this panel was MUCH larger than yesterdays.

After finding a seat I took these pictures and stitched them together on my Instagram (jdbovington just so you know): https://www.instagram.com/p/BW2z6ZVBupJ/ (I thought I was really funny, it was about 30 minutes until the room filled and the panel began)

It was an amusing panel, and had some big news for Critical Role fans. Some real, some not. All in all though an hour well spent.

After this I didn’t do a great deal. 

I popped into Geek and Sundry/The Nerdist’s Conival area behind the Marriot but when I saw it was filled with groups of friends who had clearly turned up together, playing games and chatting away, I felt weird and creepy and deeply alone. I left immediately without so much as looking around.

Went to grab some breakfast/lunch at a burger place down on the marina where a lovely couple gave me tips on things to do in San Diego besides the Con, then I remembered I promised photos, so I ventured into the grand hall of STUFF with camera poised. Here they are: (Huge images after the break, if you’re on a data connection maybe wait until you’re on wifi or something)

I was trying to be arty.

Zombies harrassing folk.

At this booth they were doing really cool sci-fi prosthetics and makeup on people.

Because Star Wars.

Famous helms made real. I assume you could buy them for exorbitant prices.

Speaking of helms, here are those armoured dudes I wrote about yesterday.

The new Mario game for the Nintendo Switch. You should have seen the line for this, it was crazy long!

An interesting looking Attack On Titan boardgame (cardboard standees instead of plastic minis for player characters though... hmmm, maybe a later edition will have a bit more money to throw around)

A Beholder and the head of an Illithid.

A large Hulk torso (and I just noticed the guy in the orange wearing a scouter from Dragonball Z).

Whatever Alan Tudyk’s robot from Rogue One was called there.

Self explanatory. For real I honestly don’t get it. They’re all the same model with minor aesthetic differences and they’re mass produced injection molded plastic from China so they’re not worth anything. Why these over actually good figures of characters you like? Ah well.

And finally some dice I bought: 

I’m excited about the giant d20. I can’t wait to use it to KILL SOMETHING!

And that is that. Apart from to say that I have added my name to a list of people who want to play some D&D tomorrow morning at 10am, so I’ll be getting up early for that.

To day 4!

[burndownthesun]

Bov Does Comic Con: Day 2

Day 2 began as many days do; rolling out of bed with my limbs aching. A swift shower set that right and I emptied my backpack, ready for the day ahead and ready to not have my shoulder destroyed by the weight of my stupid jacket which is totally unnecessary, obviously.

I headed to the shuttle stop once more to find it packed with people who had formed a nice line. There’s no escape from lines it seems. This particular line was swiftly destroyed when the bus arrived and took a handful of people away.

The next bus was coming soon, they said. They were right, I don’t know why I made the previous sentence deliberately suspenseful.

Anyway, the day began proper once I alighted the shuttle and set off to hunt down my breakfast.

I ended up in a place called the Broken Yolk, wherein hordes of people clearly had the same idea as me. I sat at the counter and asked for water, when the server returned I asked for eggs benedict. I was not disappointed, it was a very good breakfast.

What was more impressive though were the people serving it. 5 in the kitchen (that I could see) and 7 behind the counter (who were also running food out to customers), working with an urgent efficiency unlike anything I’ve seen. These were practiced hands at work, several years training at Comic Con time, clearly. It was like a dance. I was honestly very impressed. Not too badly priced either, though obviously inflated for the con.

After a brief walk I found myself at the Marriot, next to the convention centre. Therein contained were a small selection of rooms related to the con, including the room where you could get an official t-shirt (I will have to remember to grab one) and a room with about 8 pinball machines laughbly labelled the ‘pinball lounge’, pinball shack more like. Anyway where I ended up was a very large room, one half of which was taken up with a small number of tables with some odd looking games laid out for people to try.

I ended up playing a few rounds of a game called Heroclix with a nice guy who taught me the rules.

This game seems like one of those things you can sink a LOT of money into, as you’re buying little models of all your favourite heroes from any property you care to mention. Joe, my guide, even stated that there were some Ninja Turtle ones though he didn’t have them. Yet.

I enjoyed it, but I fear the grip of the collectable game having sunk multiple hundreds of pounds into the Netrunner card game, only to have stopped playing for some time now. As such I will not be playing Heroclix again. At least, I will not be buying any of the pieces.

I left then and found myself out on the Marina. It was a stunning day, and the breeze made it more than bearable to be outside so I commenced with a stroll by the water. I love the sea, or rather where the sea meets land. Not beaches though, I am far too gargoyle-esque to fully enjoy beaches. No I mean where there are rocks for the waves to crash against (or in this case, gently tickle) and you can stand and stare out into the infinite horizon...

This ponderous scene was spoiled by a very large bridge. Impressive though it is from an engineering standpoint even looking at it was starting to give me vertigo, and not the ‘6/10 watch it only for the cred of having watched it’ Hitchcock movie.

I briefly ducked into a magic shop on the waterfront and stared at the huge collection of cards behind the counter. So many decks. (I LOVE playing cards. My deck collection is bordering on stupid) I made a note in my notebook to come back and buy a deck some time before I leave. I wonder if they have anything exclusive?.. Anyway:

I wandered back inside and came immediately upon the grand hall of STUFF again. (it must have a real name. I refuse to learn it). It seemed more empty today, which is odd because everyone says Friday is the busy day, and the lines attest to that.

You should see the line for Hall H by the way. There was no swanning in as I did yesterday, oh no. There were people who had slept there in the line waiting to get in. I believe it was the Game of Thrones panel today. All of my ‘meh’; the show is on now, I don’t want sneak previews that put the timeline of events out of order. I don’t even really care about the show if I’m honest.

The Walking Dead panel was also today. That show can take a running one; I watched the last season and it was UTTER garbage. Nothing happened and every character was gripping the idiot ball like it was water in a desert.

That aside I ventured upstairs to seek the room that was to play host to the Geek and Sundry panel, the only panel I really cared about today. In my wanderings I cam upon a room full of people playing D&D (and Pathfinder). I will be returning to this room post haste, but for now the panel.

I found the room. I also found the line, which snaked around the hallway three times then went outside and down some steps (are they ‘steps’ because they’re outside and if they’re inside they’re ‘stairs’ or is it a numbers thing? If it’s a number game then at what number do steps become stairs? 

It’s important to keep yourself occupied when in a line.)

Turns out the vast majority of the people queueing to get in were there for the preceeding panel about Bungie’s Destiny.

That’s not a grandiose statement about thrill-seeking, I mean the game called ‘Destiny’, by the publisher/producer Bungie.

When the room reached maximum occupancy for that panel a great number of disgruntled looking people left, moving the line up significantly.

I got in, after much waiting and considering leaving the line, and playing of Majora’s Mask on my 3DS to kill an hour. The panel was interesting, seeing the lineup of shows and getting a little insight into their workings from the people behind Geek and Sundry. I ducked out as the Q and A started because they always make me cringe.

This was to be my whole day. I am not fully adjusted to the timezone yet and I want to be rested and up in time for a morning panel tomorrow, so I set out to find a store in order to grab a big bottle of water.

However just as I left the panel room I walked directly past Matt Mercer, voice actor and the DM on Critical Role, who was taking a photo with a fan.

I kept walking and didn’t even glance backward, because I apparently entered full 100% blushing star-struck mode. I am sure if I had stopped he would have been very polite as I babbled incoherently about D&D.

Perhaps I’ll spot him again, he is on the panel I want to get to tomorrow after all.

I returned then to the shuttle stop and back onto a bus to the hotel, where you now find me.

I’m amazed that doing a whole bunch of not much has managed to keep me out of the hotel for 8-9 hours. I suppose time moves differently when you’re undergoing sensory bombardment constantly. A nice walk by the bay was probably well needed.

My sunburn (which you may have seen on Snapchat: jbovington ) (just so you know) is still a little red, but will soon fade into the amazing tan I am capable of getting if I come out from under the shitty skies of England for a few days.

Now, tomorrows panel is bound to be busy, and it’s at 10am so I’m going to clean the day off myself and watch youtube for several hours before donning my leather oneironauts helmet with goggles and waiting for sleep to take me.

To day 3, wherein I expect a lot of Dungeons and Dragons to occur.

[burndownthesun]

Comic Con 2017: The First Day

I do not remember a great deal of the travelling involved, beyond saying that airports are boring and I was awake for 24-25 hours. I do not enjoy planes, as some of you well know. I fear them deeply. Rather, I fear take-off and landing, but take-off the most. My doctor now knows this too and her advice was diazepam.

Turns out diazepam is magic as rather than a full blown panic, take-off caused only a mild worry. Bonus. That, and the foul garbage they call coffee on an aeroplane. These are my memories. I was swiftly abed upon landing and getting to the hotel.

So, the first day: Stepping out of the hotel door into the sunshine I was struck with a single thought, one that was tinged with a little disappointment as I wouldn’t be able to engage in the traditional wandering around, that thought was ‘Fuck walking anywhere, oh my god.’ I am reliably informed that it was around 27 degrees celsius and the humidity was about 85%. Eighty. Five. With breathing being a chore I waited for the shuttle bus service to take me to the convention centre. It was mercifully air-conditioned.

Upon arrival I set off towards the centre proper, over a bridge that only mildly triggered my acrophobia. I was struck with a banner for Fox’s new show in the X-Men universe: (Seems I can’t add images when typing this up on my phone. I will add that as soon as I can.) It seems interesting but I wish they would give mutants back to Marvel. Ah well.

I came then upon a line. This I was well forewarned about. Lines, they say, are naturally drawn to Comic Con. I walked down the line. Then I walked further down the line. Then I walked further down the line. Eventually I came to the end of the building. It is a very large building. This was not the end of the line. No. It snaked around the side and vanished under an archway that looked to be the staff entrance to the building. The end of the line was here so I joined.

Not too bad, this line. It moved fairly rapidly, up until it stopped doing that and we were simply stood. At this point the sun was starting to get angry at us. There were moments when it was almost too much to bear. We crept forward at snails pace, ever hoping to reach the next spot of shade. Begging the line to move just three or four more steps to allow you under the cover and the people behind you be damned. It was every nerd for themselves at that point. What boggled the mind at this point were the cosplayers. They of crafty hands (or hefty wallets) dedicated to portraying a favourite character with their own attire. There was fantasy warriors in furs and leather. There were mascots in full suit. There were plastic-armoured space-marines and the like. All suffering no doubt from heat stroke. I do not know if they are heroic or just stupid. Probably both, as is the way of things.

Eventually an hour passed and the line led me inside. Air-conditioning is a marvelous thing. I stopped sweating finally and after grabbing my badge (very quickly once through the doors) I went in search of water, paying $4 for a bottle and not even caring a jot. (I cared immensely what a rip-off).

Comic-Con then, set about the two floors of the convention centre (and other places besides). Upstairs you will find the meeting rooms and halls set aside for panels and whatnot, mostly filled today with interesting sounding talks by interesting sounding people. Hall H is infamous. It is GARGANTUAN at 1600 seats, it is on the ground floor and it is notoriously difficult to get into for the more popular panels. Tomorrow is a Game of Thrones panel and there are probably people waiting in line NOW to get in for that. The Stranger Things panel is in there on Saturday, we shall see if I brave it. I wandered around a few laps of this upper floor reading schedules on doors before heading downstairs and into the main convention hall.

This room is the size of an aircraft carrier. Possibly two. It is unbelievably enormous and it was full. What strikes you as you enter is sound. People and sound and THINGS. Just stuff, everywhere. End to end this room is crammed with stalls, people selling comics, t-shirts, pins, posters, trading cards for obscure early 90’s cartoons, the Cowboy Bebop soundtrack for $40 and a lanyard for $10. As well as this large entertainment companies have stores to ply their newest show or whatever. There was a tantalising red curtain with the words Twin Peaks above it, but too many people around to really find out what it was. Wall to wall this room is filled with these stalls, and in literally all available space between are people. People. Everywhere, People. Those in regular clothing, some who have dressed up. Some who had dressed down, as it were; cosplaying a character who doesn’t wear much is genius in this climate (and if you’re a bit of an exhibitionist, I suppose).

It is a wonder unto itself, this vast collection of people. This ocean of humanity waving to and fro between stands, chatting and looking at all the STUFF. I was not chatting; I have travelled alone again (see my Vancouver posts from several years ago) so today was spent mostly people watching and looking at the STUFF. Although one fellow in the line was chatty, and almost immediately wrongly identified me as Australian. This, I am told, is fairly common for those of us from England’s North. Strange, as our accents are not even that similar. Also you’d think Game of Thrones fans would have learned to recognise a Yorkshire accent by now (even if they do think it’s just Northern Westeros.)

I wandered out eventually, having been overwhelmed quite enough for the time being, onto a terrace overlooking the harbour. There a group of people dressed as knights (including some in half-plate. Actual metal armour.) hit each other with sticks in lieu of real swords for the delight of a woman who they all called the queen. This seemed strange but fun. I overheard a woman explain this to someone nearby as a kind of ancient western martial art training thing. With LARPing royalty mixed in I suppose. If this happens in England I don’t know of it but I assume it does, it is our history they’re recreating after all. I returned inside.

After another quick dip into the grand hall of STUFF I exited another door and out into the streets in search of food. The streets were an insane place too. People everywhere, costumes galore. Every restaurant and cafe within a certain distance of the centre had a mile-long queue and an hour long waiting time once you were at the front. I eventually returned to an area beside where the shuttle dropped us that morning which housed a couple of food trucks amid myriad distractions including a full-size snow speeder from Star Wars(!) and grabbed something and fries. Some meat or other.

It was time to return to hotel. I had been about for hours and my feet were starting to ache. I still cannot lift my shoulder properly thanks to the efforts of my backpack. I shall be emptying that almost entirely tomorrow to avoid a repeat performance.

A strange and exciting day then, filled with colour and vibrancy I saw a great many things; I saw Team Skull from Pokemon getting nachos. I saw a child decimating all comers at Marvel vs Capcom Infinite by picking Rocket and Hulk and just spamming the Reality Stone. I saw Spiderman buying Magic: The Gathering cards. I saw a thousand Harley Quinns, several Starfires (for an unknown reason, are the Titans popular again?), ten thousand Daenerys Targaryens (no Starks though. Perhaps I should buy leather armour and furs. I’ve already got the accent.), and SO. MANY. JEDI. (perhaps I should have brought my Jedi robes?)

I think I have become slightly sunburnt on my arms. My face has been unaffected, mercifully.

It is time to think about food and the eating thereof once again.

All in all a successful day one, I’d say. To day two!

[burndownthesun]

I have a Patreon where I write fiction. At least one short story per month. May's slightly late short story went up yesterday (actually this morning)! Take a look, maybe become a patron. Literally any amount brings me an unbelievable joy. Help me write my book

[burndownthesun]

Tell everyone! http://patreon.com/Jbovwrites

[burndownthesun]

I will be coming back

I'm aware that I haven't posted anything here in so long that it may as well be completely dead, but it isn't. I will be back, and I'll be bringing some words with me. Probably less unpleasant shouting though, I've tried to tone myself down. On that subject; if anything previous to this upsets you in any way, it was supposed to. I'm not sorry. Everyone needs to confront things they dislike, not just cower and pretend it doesn't exist. Anyway, more words soon. Probably fiction.

[burndownthesun]

It's All So Simple...

I'VE WORKED IT OUT! IT'S EVERYONE WHO DID THE 'NEW YEAR, NEW ME' THING AT THE START OF THE YEAR! You were supposed to stay as the Old You. By forcing the New You into this world you corrupted the timeline! Somewhere in the ether the Old Yous have been forced into another Plane. They and the New Yous of people who didn't say it are having the greatest year ever. You've doomed us all, you MONSTERS.

[burndownthesun]

An Open Letter to Film and TV Companies

To whom it may concern, Pressuring Netflix to block VPN users is a terrible idea. I've accessed a different region's version of Netflix a couple of times. Only one of those times was "legal". I was in Canada at the time. Their selection of shows and movies was much better than the UKs. The US version is the same. I don't fully understand how international licencing works, but surely if you own the show you get to decide where people can see it? Right? So why say that one region of the world is arbitrarily not allowed to watch something on a service that they pay for, a service that makes YOU money? Have you seen the amount of people who are going to drop Netflix now? It's not insubstantial. It's all money down the drain, and it could have been avoided. It's not just Netflix, of course, it's any region locked content that people are willing to pay for. Imagine you run a hot dog stand. People are queueing to buy a hot dog, they're excited for a hot dog. Now to your credit, you do sell hot dogs to everyone you can manage to sell them to. Good. Great even, because we all get a delicious hot dog. However if I'm queueing behind my Canadian friend and he gets relish on his hot dog for an extra dollar, is it not unreasonable to then tell me I can't have relish because I'm stood on the wrong bit of the pavement? I have the extra dollar clenched in my fist. I'm waiting to GIVE you a dollar for relish, but you won't LET ME? You won't let me give you a dollar because I'm on the wrong bit of pavement? That's absurd. Then behind me my American friend can have relish but can't have onions, because he lives on the wrong block. This is going to drive people underground. If you don't LET us give you money for the things we want, then some people will just take it for free. And there is no way to stop them. At least not yet. Because people are not allowed to give you money, you are driving piracy up. You are making the problem worse. Just make your region locked stuff open to everyone. People will pay a subscription fee if they know they can get what they're looking for. If you don't want our money, actively reject our money in fact, then we will get what we wanted elsewhere. Back to the hotdogs. If you don't want me to have the relish, despite the fact that I will pay you for it, then I'll probably find the guy down the street who will let me have it. Even if he stole his hotdogs from you. If I'm particularly spiteful, in fact, then I will SEEK OUT the guy who stole his hotdogs from you and give him my patronage instead. Usually he'll be handing out not just the relish, but the whole hot dog for free, too. So you don't see even a penny of the money I WANTED TO GIVE TO YOU. Too bad, so sad. If you don't want to take my freely offered money, that's fine. But I'm still going to get what I want from you. And so is everyone else. It makes no sense that you would prefer that system to one where you let people pay you, does it? Yours confusedly, James Bovington.

[burndownthesun]

And Long May You Live (A Gamer's Tweets On 'GamerGate')

These were Tweets I wrote. I have collected them here for posterity.

I’ve loved videogames since I was a young boy. I love them to this day. They are beautiful art and they bring joy to millions. #GamerGate has made me ashamed to be a gamer. It has made me question a huge part of my life. Because some people are so mentally deficient and dependant on their special little club that I genuinely believe they WOULD shoot a person simply for being a woman and having the audacity to play games.

It is Space Year 2014. We do not stone women for speaking in public. We do not threaten to kill someone who says a thing we don’t like. We do not become so insular that our reaction to more people talking about ‘our’ thing is hostility. And we do not twist what began as a much needed debate on journalistic integrity into a misogynistic crusade. Actually, not misogynistic; outright hostile toward women.

These are things we do not do.

It has made me ashamed to love something that I have loved for my whole life. It has made me ashamed that I share a love with ‘people’ of such low calibre.

We were ‘us’. You have made yourselves ‘them’ to what is left of us and the world at large. Into a culture so inherently cooperative, you have driven a wedge. And it makes me ashamed. You have let us down. The industry, the fans, the creators and most importantly yourselves.

You have let us all down.

Most selfishly on my part, though, you have made me ashamed. The rosy sheen of nostalgia through which I view Ocarina of Time is tarnished.

For that, I shall never forgive you.

Now and forever, may you never love another thing. And long may you live.

[burndownthesun]

Inevitability

I have decided that not offering money for artists to help with my comic is making it un-doable. It's unreasonable to expect someone to invest time and effort for fun, isn't it? My idealism regarding this issue is just gossamer strands of dreams in the wind. Sadly I can't afford to pay anyone. Especially since it wouldn't be making me any returns at all. It is not something that will make money.

As such, the project is dead. I will focus on other things.

Yours faithfully, J Bov.

[burndownthesun]

Undercover Boss USA

A while back I wrote a review of Undercover Boss USA and forgot about it. I just found it on my laptop, so I'll stick it here.

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Recently I’ve been watching an awful lot of Undercover Boss USA (various places, but probably available online). Also some of the Canadian version, too, but the shows are utterly identical aside from the accents.

You only need a brief overview to understand what happens in literally every episode; a person in a highly-paid, high-ranking job puts on an unconvincing fake beard, or goes to a different hair stylist and looks no different to how they used to look, then they go and do entry-level jobs at their own company while being followed by a camera crew. Eventually they dole out opportunities and cash to some of the people they met and change some company policies in ways that won’t be too much of a blow to the bottom line. Rinse, repeat, switch off, go outside, scream incoherently at passing cars in despair.

I honestly don’t understand why they change their appearance; in one episode the person chosen to go undercover was a ‘chief financial officer’ because everyone knew what the actual boss looks like so it’s couldn’t have been him. This bloke was picked because nobody knew what he looked like and they still put him in a disguise.

One bloke was sweating so much on his jolly workaday role-play sojourn that his false beard sloughed off his sodden flesh. Nobody recognised him, but you could tell that they’d noticed. So instead of thinking ‘Oh, it’s the boss, I’d better buck up my ideas and work hard.’ they were thinking ‘This gentleman is wearing a fake beard and I don’t know why. Maybe he’s an escaped convict and the purpose of the camera crew is to document how much of my face he can eat before he gets bored and wanders off to sexually assault a swing-set.’ Or something along those lines.

Anyway, after they trundle around having guided tours of one bland working environment or another they spend some time being incompetent at even the simplest of jobs. Well, I say ‘the simplest of jobs’, when really I’m talking about jobs that take a degree of skill and probably a fair bit of training. One man was expected to assemble engine parts with no more training than watching someone else do it once and vague directions like ‘No!’ and ‘Not that way!’ So what was presumably supposed to be an hilarious montage that showed the boss being not even as useful as the lowliest worker turns into footage of someone being unable to do something that they are unable to do. The futility of all effort becomes apparent through these scenes, but I’ll soldier on regardless.

Usually about the halfway mark they chuck in a sob-story. There always someone with disabled kids, or a currently benign tumour that they can’t afford to have removed or a disease that makes them hear the Tetris theme played on a loop in their head forever and ever. This means we get to have some juicy shots of a rich person crying and saying they should change their ways. It’s essentially the producers shoving in the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future and taunting Scrooge so we can all watch him weep on television.

After that everyone is called to the boss’ office and given a few quid and maybe a slightly better job. Most of them cry. It’s apparently quite nice to be recognised for the work you do.

Basically the entire show revolves around the people who deal mainly with numbers putting human faces to them and learning that the employees are the most important part of the company, enabling them to make decisions in a more empathetic, less ruthlessly efficient manner. It has the faintest whiff of the kind of inverse-snobbery that has been encouraged in the working-class, salt-of-the-earth, Average Joe types that assume the CEO is a useless number-crunching money machine with no heart and therefore somehow beneath them.

It’s very humdrum, it tries hard to be heart-warming and sometimes comes close to succeeding, but mainly it’s formulaic and boring. Watch something good instead.

Black Mirror (Channel 4, Monday 10pm), for example, Charlie Brooker’s bleak science-fiction show that plays like the Twilight Zone on a bipolar downswing.

The first season (three one-hour episodes total, available on 4OD) was excellent and now, two episodes into season two, the show remains superb. It’s well worth a watch and, since it’s awards season and all, I’ve awarded it the prestigious “Something on Television that is Thought-Provoking, Well Written and Not a God Awful Waste of Everyone’s Time Award”. Congratulations, Black Mirror, for being the only thing currently in that category and winning by default. Bravo, I suppose.

 James Bovington.

[burndownthesun]

One Day I'll Do Something Here That's Worthwhile.

When that day comes I'll see my creation online, for everyone, as everything great should be.

I will look at it and I will think 'This. This is my creation, and I am immensely proud of it. My hard work, my labours of love, have culminated in this.'

I will smile. I will feel good about myself.

I will see nobody engage with it.

I will see it languishing in obscurity when I just wanted to share it.

I will see it buried under .gifs of scenes from television shows with subtitles just so you can relive a moment that you saw and can watch again in HD with sound whenever you want.

I will see it buried under endless rehashing of Breaking Bad 're-imagined' intros, or Game of Thrones 'fuck' supercuts.

I will see the thing I love lost in an ocean of Vlogbrothers quotes, complete with people chiming in just to obnoxiously state that, yes, we all watched the video and heard John/Hank say that thing.

And I will wonder. 

I will wonder why I chose to share the thing I love, the thing I created, here of all places.

Why I decided to risk this exact scenario.

Then I will consider.

I will consider whether it's even worth putting anything here at all.

Then I will fear.

I will fear that perhaps the thing I'm not sure about, the thing I created, is not simply lost, but is actually terrible, and is reaping the rewards it deserves. I deserve.

Then I will concede.

I will concede that thing thing I dislike, the thing I created, is not worth your time, just as it was not worth mine.

Eventually I will delete.

The thing I hate, the thing I created, will vanish from the internet. It will vanish from my computer and it will vanish, in time, from my memory and it's passing will be a quiet but undignified one.

Finally, I will leave.

All the things I loathe, all the things I created, will fade away with me and I will be embarrassed by my hands for typing, and I will be embarrassed by my mind for making up lies, and I will be further embarrassed for ever thinking those lies might have been something that someone could love.

One day I'll do something somewhere that's worthwhile.

Or possibly I wont.

I'm constantly afraid of both success and failure. Go figure.

[burndownthesun]

Idiots Gonna Idiot: an annoyance borne from polymer money

England to have polymer bank notes in 2016. People are somehow split over this 'issue'. Because people will complain about literally anything. They say changing the sizes so they're smaller is making people feel 'short changed'. THEY'RE WORTH THE SAME AMOUNT YOU STUPID FUCKERS. THEY'RE WORTH THE SAME AS THEY ARE NOW. ONLY THE DESIGN IS CHANGING. IT'S LITERALLY JUST A COSMETIC DIFFERENCE AND IT WILL SAVE THE COUNTRY (YOU) MONEY. THEY'RE THE SAME. THE SAME. THEY'RE THE FUCKING SAME AS THE ONES WE HAVE NOW BUT EASIER TO CARRY IN A NORMAL SIZED WALLET. THEY BUY THE SAME AMOUNT OF SHIT YOU WANT, BECAUSE THEY'RE WORTH THE SAME.

THEY'RE THE FUCKING FUCKING FUCKING SAME YOU STUPID WASTE OF AIR, YOU ABSOLUTE MORON.

THE SAME. FUCKING FUCK FUCKING SAME FUCK FUCK YOU FUCKING IDIOT FUCK.

Just think. For one god damn bloody second just listen and think and try not to be a disgrace to human intelligence.

Bring me plastic money. While you're at it bring pound notes back too.

[burndownthesun]

We Need A Better Name for '3D Printing'

Now that 3D printers are becoming fairly common I think it’s time we addressed a major issue: ‘3D printing’ is clumsy phrasing at its worst. “You can 3D print this.” “I got it 3D printed.” It’s clunky and rubbish.

It needs a snappy new title and I think we need to come up with it now as a community before a company snaps up a copyright and becomes synonymous with the device like Hoover or Plexiglass.

But I’m just one man and I can’t do it alone. I need you. I need you to help come up with what we’re going to call this marvel of science.

It needs to be punchy, it needs to be easily turned into a verb and it needs to be cool. (I thought ‘replicator’ but I think we should save that for when they’ve finally nailed down the food printer that’s currently in its early stages. Google it, it’s AWESOME).

We could go simple like ‘Maker’. “I’ll knock it up with the Maker in a bit.” “Send it to the Maker.” But then you're stuck with things like; “I got it Made for me at the office.” Which is a little pants.

Come on Tumblr, together we can come to some agreement. Let’s name this thing!

[burndownthesun]

Dear Tumblr, I Need You[r artistic talents]

Would any of you Tumblfolks like to pencil (and possibly ink and colour) a comic? See, I've been writing a script for one but when they were building me they forgot to install any visual-art skills. That technician was fired and then liquidised, but the fact remains that I can't draw for toffee. I'll say right now that this would be a project undertaken just for fun. I'd like to post the comic online, page-by-page, on perhaps a weekly basis (although that may change) and I have no plans to make any money off it. (At least not at first, you never know who may want to chuck money at it some day). Full credit will obviously be given since this will be a collaboration. Equal partners is the name of the game, it's also something you could put in your portfolio or on your CV. (Probably not particularly useful for a CV unless you're trying to get a job as a comic artist.) To give you a short 'pitch'/some idea of what's going on: it's a murder mystery set in a near-future quasi-sci-fi world. A detective is called to the run-down desert city Enclave 7 by persons unknown and is dragged into solving the murder of a prominent politician. My intention was to make it a bit 'Film Noir'. There's murder, there's flashbacks, there's a couple of jokes every now and then. There's also almost free reign for the artist, I've done a fair bit of describing what I think should be in the panel, but as I said I have no grasp of visual art and as such will defer to him/her/them most of the time to make their own choices unless it's vitally important that something be seen/not seen/glimpsed/hidden in the background. I'm throwing myself at the feet of Tumblr and asking for some help. If you think you'd be interested please get in touch. If you aren't but you know someone who might be, please point them my way. I'd really like to get this comic out of the script stage/my computer/my head and out where people can see it. As such I'll be putting a DFTBA tag on here in an attempt to contact the largest group of thoughtful arty people I know of. I'm sorry if that seems exploitative, guys. Help me? Please? James.

[burndownthesun]

Finding an Artist is Hard

A while ago I went looking for an artist to bring life to the comic script that I'm spewing out. I know a few artists personally but around the time I was looking everyone was busy (understandably; they’re very good) or had life shit going on. It happens.

After deciding to take the plunge I posted a couple of ‘seeking artist’ type ads on sites designed specifically to get creative people together for projects. I stated quite clearly that the project would end up as web-based comic (most likely) and there wasn’t any money in it (at least in the near future). Just for fun and credit, basically. I got a couple of timewasters, I got a couple of bullshitters. C’est la vie. What I also got, however, was a whole bunch of people getting angry that no money would change hands. They asked me what the ‘point’ was.

I don’t understand that at all. The mentality of an artist that won’t create without being paid. I’ve never been paid to write anything. It’s never stopped me. I HAVE to write, money or no, it’s not an ‘either-or’ situation.

How depressing it must be, too, to be so jaded that you refuse to do art outside of a paid situation. I don’t think I could live like that.

Anyway, I got into a little argument with one such person in an attempt to explain that it would just be for fun. The gist of his argument was: “Some of us have stuff to pay for and need money for the work we do."

I sent something sarcastic as a reply but my main bone of contention with that statement is the unwritten assertion that somehow the work I’ve put into this isn’t valuable or important. Or particularly difficult.

I hate, I HATE, the idea that some artists seem to have that writing is somehow not art, or is easy. I hated his suggestion that the hours and hours and days and days of work I put into this script, completely free and slipped in around my job and other commitments, that nearly making myself ill through lack of sleep and expending vast effort, was somehow less important, less valuable and less difficult than his input would have been.

I’ve corrected an artist before when they were explaining why they didn’t write some ideas they had down. Their claim was ‘I’ve written some stuff before but writing is just too easy, anyone can do it and I want a challenge.’

Wrong. What you’ve been doing is not writing. Anyone can doodle in the margins of a page, but that’s not drawing. Any damn child can slap paint onto paper with their fingers but it’s not painting.

I’m going off on a tangent. Basically all I wanted to say is that the experience has soured me to the whole idea of seeking an artist online. Working with strangers so far has been a shit-soaked dead end.

After that I got disheartened and the whole project, including the writing of the script went on the backburner and has been sat there idle until very recently.

Just my thought for the day. J Bov.