#I read that the captains ancestors might be giants (ei) and I took it to heart as you can see. I stretched that old man like gum

[disclaimer-performatico]

Some sketches of @spacerangersam 's Lord Howl and his hand Patrick from their fic The Blooms of May.

I want to rework them a bit so that they make a bit more sense in the world, but I thought they looked pretty cool anyway.

[aion-rsa]

How Star Trek: Next Generation’s “The Chase” Changed Canon Forever

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What do space heists and archaeology have in common? The answer is one of the most important and bizarrely under-appreciated episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation: Season 6 banger, “The Chase.” Written by future Battlestar Galactica showrunner Ronald D. Moore and Joe Menosky, and directed by Jonathan Frakes, “The Chase” is a perfect example of a late-era TNG episode insofar as the characters all feel super-cozy, and the story has a subtle intensity without resorting to a ton of explosions or violence. At the same time, “The Chase” also offered a Watsonian answer to a question with a seemingly very obvious Doyle-ist answer: Why do Star Trek aliens look the way they do? In “The Chase,” we learn all about the rules of Trek aliens, and along the way, the TNG lore is expanded in other big ways, too.

“The Chase” aired on April 26, 1993, and as such, exists in the interesting time when TNG and DS9 were airing new episodes simultaneously. DS9 had already expanded the canon of Trek by permanently parking itself in the histories of both the Bajorians and the Cardassians, but in doing so, DS9 had also brought another Star Trek plot element back into vogue in a big way: The ancient space mystery! These kinds of stories usually focus on a long-dead alien species that had a profound impact on history and influenced everyone’s basic perception of why things are the way they are. In a sense, the entire first season of Star Trek: Picard falls into this story phylum. In the 1993 DS9 pilot, “The Emissary” — which aired just six months before “The Chase” —  we learn the ancient gods of Bajor, the Prophets, are really timeless aliens from another plane of existence. This kind of idea is nearly as old as science fiction itself, but prior to DS9, Star Trek did this all the time. The notion of ancient and influentially alien races pops up in TOS a lot, including references to “the Old Ones,” in “What Are Little Girls Made Of?” and “Catspaw.” There’s also Sargon’s race of energy beings from “Return to Tomorrow,” who low-key take credit for the existence of humanoids. This idea also pops up with “the Preservers” in the episode “The Paradise Syndrome.” Before “The Chase,” TNG had a few episodes like this, too, including “The Last Outpost,” and pivotally, the Season 2 episode “Contagion,” the first time we learn that Picard had previously considered a career in archeology before staying on the career path that led to starship captain.

The notion that Picard has an Indiana Jones-esque tendency embedded in his personality is one of the smarter layers in his character. I love Kirk, but, other than horseback riding and mountain climbing, his hobbies are comparatively kind of generic throughout TOS and the films. (Sulu has more unique hobbies!) One of the reasons the character of Picard is so easy for people to embrace is his multifaceted love of all sorts of stuff that doesn’t have much to do with exploring space. In “The Chase,” we get a character-development metaphor that illustrates this is the ancient artifact called the Kurlan naiskos, a statue with little statues inside of it, representing as Picard says, “the many voices inside the one.” The storytelling lesson? Cool characters work better when there’s contradictory stuff inside of them.

It’s also helpful when those “many voices” can create cool stories. In High Fidelity, John Cusak’s Rob Gordon explains character development like this: “What really matters is what you like, not what you are like… Books, records, films – these things matter!” With Picard, the vastly different interests that feel divergent from his Starfleet persona — hard-boiled noir novels, archaeology — help round him out in a way that you can imagine him as a real person, existing beyond the confines of the TV show. But, prior to “The Chase,” the archaeology thing hadn’t really been explored in any real way. It’s almost like in the final two seasons of TNG, the writers remembered Picard has a cool intellectual superpower called “archaeology.”

After “The Chase,” we get a Season 7 two-parter called “Gambit,” in which Picard goes undercover using his former archeology professor’s name, Galen, to track down—you guessed it—ancient pieces of an alien artifact that could have untold power! The interstellar adventures of Galen Jones never really took off as a TNG spin-off, but again, if you squint, aspects of Star Trek: Picard don’t feel that far off from “The Chase” or “Gambit.” (As post-” Unification” stories, these episodes also double-down on the idea that Picard is personally invested in the history of Romulus and also making peace with the Romulans in general. Thanks, Spock!)

But. The reason why “The Chase” is so important to Star Trek canon isn’t just connected to the ongoing character development of Jean-Luc Picard. Picard’s personal stakes in unlocking an ancient archeology mystery help make the episode move, but the larger revelation of what is going on is slightly cooler. There’s a scene where Picard is describing the four billion-year-old genetic mystery and the camera slowly zooms in on him, really letting you know that this shit is about to get real. It goes like this:

“It’s four billion years old. A computer program from a highly advanced civilization, and it’s hidden in the very fabric of life itself. [SLOW JONATHAN FRAKES ZOOM LENS BEGINS, OMINIOUSLY.] Whatever information this program contains could be the most profound discovery of our time. Or the most dangerous.”

The culmination of “The Chase” is all about various governments trying to unlock the secrets of the genetic computer program to figure out its secrets. This is the Raiders of the Lost Ark stuff. The Klingons think it’s a giant weapon. The Cardassians think it’s an unlimited power supply. Belloq thinks it’s a radio for talking to God, even though nobody invited him. Even the Romulans are in on it, wanting to obtain this four billion-year-old puzzle for themselves. In the end, the big revelation is that all the “humanoid” bipedal species we’ve seen throughout Star Trek were created intentionally by an even more ancient set of humanoids. This tap-dance with real science doesn’t contradict evolution per se, but in the ancient message the ancient humanoid woman says: “Our scientists seeded the primordial oceans of many worlds, where life was in its infancy. The seed codes directed your evolution toward a physical form resembling ours.”

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So, the TLDR is that in the Trek universe, we evolved naturally, but only because we were given a push. This is as close the Trek canon will come to the notion of panspermia, the real-life theory that organic life could have been intentionally seeded on Earth. But, Trek alum Ronald D. Moore would revisit this idea in a big way in his famous reboot of Battlestar Galactica. This has all happened before and it will all happen again… sometimes, in a different franchise.

So what’s the big deal with the revelation that all the humanoid alien species share a common ancestor? Well, the knee-jerk answer is that this episode provided bandaid on the slightly unrealistic notion that most aliens in Star Trek just like humans with different foreheads or wrinkled noses or funny ears. And that’s true, “The Chase” does provide a Watsonian answer for why the Star Trek universe looks the way it does, at least when it comes to extraterrestrials. Haters might say this was a bad idea because it called attention to something that doesn’t need explaining, sort of like the Trek version of the midichlorians. But, that negative take misses a slightly larger truth, which debunks an important myth about the foundation of Trek.

The reason why The Original Series mostly tackled aliens who looked like humans in bad make-up is only partially an economic one. Yes, it’s widely impractical to do Hortas and Gorns every week, but in creating the writers’ bible for TOS, Roddenberry also made it clear that humanoid aliens were part of a dramatic choice, not just an economic one. In early pitch documents, Roddenberry describes “the parallel worlds” concept like this: “It means simply that our stories will plant and animals life, plus people, quite similar to that on Earth.”

Roddenberry wasn’t just doing this to save money. The “parallel worlds” concept was clearly something he wanted so the stories would connect with a casual viewer and not just hardcore science fiction fans. Prior to Star Trek, the general perception of filmed science fiction was that it was genre dominated by “Bug-Eyed Monsters.” By introducing the “Parallel worlds” concept, Roddenberry was creating a buffer against the series becoming too much like monster-of-the-week science fiction. Yes, this decision conveniently saved a little bit of money, but it’s very clear that wasn’t the only factor. Even at the beginning, Star Trek wanted to do humanoid aliens not because it was easy, but because telling those stories would be more interesting. 

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What Moore and Menosky did with “The Chase,” was to come right out and make that dramatic choice into a thoughtful and exciting episode. The physics and biological science of the Star Trek universe might not exactly line up with our own, but the way in which the various shows prioritize people over technology is a relative constant. In “The Chase,” TNG reminded everyone that Star Trek was always about telling stories about people, even if those people were literally aliens. In this way, “The Chase” didn’t so much as change canon, but rather, clarified it. The reason why the Romulans, Humans, Cardassians look the way they do has an answer. But the real answer to that question requires even more introspection than the episode has time for. Which, in a nutshell, is what a lot of good Trek is supposed to do. “The Chase” is both an overt metaphor and a hardcore in-universe story at the same time. Many voices, inside the one.

Editor’s note: Norman Lloyd, the actor who played Professor Galen in “The Chase” (and inhabited many, many other roles in his long career) passed away earlier this week. You can learn more about his life and career here.

The post How Star Trek: Next Generation’s “The Chase” Changed Canon Forever appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[chameleonspell]

182: apology

A mushroom, its broad cap fending off the noon-day sun, on the outskirts of somewhere completely different. "I don't know what you're so upset about. You were worried about money, and it'll be far cheaper to sail from here than from Sadrith Mora. With less chance of recognition!" Julan remained silent. He leaned back against the mushroom, arms braced on either side of his neck, fingers locked together at the nape. His eyes were closed. "Listen, how was I supposed to know that was Gothren's bedroom window?"

Julan opened his eyes, but didn't focus them beyond his elbows. He drew a long, serrated breath, and held it. "You didn't want to be stuck up there forever, did you?" Julan released the breath, in something between a growl and a groan. "Honestly, I'm amazed this sort of thing doesn't happen more often in a Telvanni town, levitation being what it is. I can't believe they got so unreasonably... unreasonable about a simple..." Beyond Julan's elbows, Iriel's eyes veered back and forth, creased in worried scrutiny. Grimacing, he changed tack: "I'm sorry. I got carried away." Julan closed his eyes again. "All right, perhaps you did, technically speaking." Iriel was hunching slightly, to remain on eye level. Monitoring the results of his words, and currently far from satisfied. "Again, sorry. I'll warn you next time." He sucked his lower lip for a moment. "That is to say, I'll ask your permission. In writing, two weeks in advance. And... sorry. How's your shoulder, can I massage it, or...? No? No, I see, all right, never mind." He retracted his hand, and, after a moment's consideration, shuffled back a few paces. "It's just... I'd read about scrolls of windform, but never actually tried one. Levitating invisibly at high speed always sounded like the perfect way to travel. And it was, for, well. Most of it." He was smiling, now, gaze drifting into space. "I must confess, I've even had... certain... fantasies about..." The abrupt renewal of Julan's glare dragged him back down to earth. "Well. Obviously I wasn't going to suggest... of course not. Sorry. Never mind." He straightened up, and took a drag on the kreshweed roll-up he was twitching between his fingers. "By the way, I know you dropped that helm on purpose, so don't even try denying it." Julan finally lowered his arms. "Since when do you smoke that stuff, anyway?" "Since I needed it to reduce my stress levels from dealing with you, sweetheart. Besides, it gives my hands something to do that isn't illusion spells." Julan eyed the kreshweed, suspiciously. After a while, he sighed, and let Iriel pass it to him, though upon inhalation, he immediately choked, and thrust it back, eyes streaming. A little later, Julan said, out of what had now become a mostly companionable silence: "So. Two Dremora." Iriel's mouth quirked, before he replied: "Perks of being a Telvanni Mage-Lord, I suppose. Or just not giving a fuck about arcane ethics." "Same thing." Julan cricked his neck sideways with a wrenching pop. Ire didn't even wince, his eyes glazed and distant. "Two Dremora, though." Julan snorted. "You wouldn't know what to do with two Dremora!" "I would, you know." "Send them back to Oblivion with proper shirts on, because you're so arcanely ethical?" "...Quite." Iriel wandered out of the mushroom's shadow to survey the Tel Aruhn docks again. The ship they wanted was preparing to depart, but they thought it safest to embark at the last minute, to avoid the captain making too many awkward enquiries. The sails were still half-set, so Ire returned to Julan's side. "Last chance to change your mind," he told him. "But I really think asking the Urshilaku for advice is best. They play by the rules; Daedra don't." "Yeah." A sigh. "I just... you were right, last time we made this trip. When you said I was avoiding them. I know what they'll say, and none of it's new, but..." "I know. Don't worry. I have a plan, of sorts." Ire found Julan's hand and squeezed it. "My brain may be a jumbled mess of the fractured shards of my intellect, but it's at your service. And I have a few ideas that might work." "See, you're not fractured all the time. How's the magic?" "About the level it was when I was ten, but it's something. I suppose perh--" They froze, as a distant explosion shook the towers around them. Passers by, used to Telvanni districts, merely paused, glanced around for signs of immediate local catastrophe, shrugged and walked on. "D'you think they--" Julan began, but Iriel shook his head. "Don't think. Let's just go. The boat should be ready in a few minutes." "What's in that sack of yours, anyway?" "Hopefully nothing breakable, after what it went through on our descent." "Yeah, well. I guess anything not in it is gone for good, now." Seizing the distraction, Iriel opened the sack from Tusamircil. "Clothes, mostly," he reported. "Some of them are even yours." "Is my ash-scarf there? I've been looking for that." "No. Because you left that in my room before, and I burned it." "Wh--?! ...Oh. OK." A snort of laughter from Iriel, as he pulled out a cream silk sleeve. "Look what she's put in here! As if I'll need this, where we're going! Still, no sense saving it for a special occasion, now. I might as well wear it in the Ashlands as anywhere, I suppose." "Is my stupid noble shirt in there, too, then? Or... hey, what about my other pair of guarskins?" Iriel didn't reply. He had found the scroll. Uneven lettering on rough parchment, fastened with green twine. Julan saw his face. "Hey, are you...? Look, I know Helende said you should read it, but maybe now isn't... I mean, what if it's... are you sure you're ready to...?" But Iriel, his fingers helpless as clockwork, was already tugging on the end of the twine. To Iriel. I have began this letter four times. Each time I have wrote the wrong words so much I have ended by dropping the paper over the side. This is the last bit of parchement. My mistaiks must all have to stand this time and you must bare them. Purhaps this is rigte and best. I am sorry for my writing being so falty. I hope you may take my menings. I am at sea, 35.7 teills WTW of the Dancing Strait with our nose to the sun and the wind to our back. I have come further than I have bin in all my dawns. But even were the Argerial not with us, I would not let it prevent me now. I dont set myself wiser than the breath of our ancestors, but I am resolvd. Lightbringer knows our course. I can feel the joy of it in the wood. Befour sun rise I had seen more tears than I thouht still left these many years, but now the joy is in me too and I know the stars speak truly and the winds blow wise. It is time to leve. There was a time to stay and keep to old words, but that is ended. She said you are in Morrowind. She said she wrote you. I thouht you was in a Ciirodil jail. I asked why you was out and if they found you was innosent like I thouht. I asked when you was coming home. She said never. She said it made no matter. She said some people carry their prisons inside themselves and so never walk free. It struck me as how she was rigte. I put her a letter in her Astrology folder. She opens it not more than once a week by my eyes. Purhaps it will even pass some moons until she finds it. I dont pretend as I know who you are these dawns be it theif or murderer or both or none. I dont know if your blood runs fair or foul as she says. I only know it runs in me the same, and I would look on what you have made of it. Purhaps as you see no call to find me, but if you will it, and if Auri-El preserve us on this long haul, I mean to reach Ebonheart by your birth month. From [a blotched mess of illegibly crossed out words] Murecano [more crossing out, this somewhat legible]. When Iriel finally found his tongue, it had turned corpse-dry, coating every word in dust. "He... he wrote 'Murecano of Lillandril', and then he... crossed out the 'of Lillandril' part." "Is it an apology?" "Not exactly. I think... he's trying to tell whether I want one." "Do you?" "I don't know. I don't know anything. This is more words together than I've had from him my entire life." As Ire spoke, he rolled the parchment tighter and tighter, and reknotted the twine several times. "Fuck." He exhaled sharply, and pushed it into the bottom of his bag. "I don't have time to mess myself up over this, right now. Can you just... hug me really, really, hard for a moment, and then we'll run for the boat." The Ahemmusa-bound members of the Thieves' Guild will no doubt turn up again in due course, but as Iriel and Julan leave the Telvanni lands, perhaps some final mention of the others is in order, insofar as details are known, before all trails were lost. Rissinia recovered from his wounds, and went to seek his fortune (and a better range of cake ingredients) in Cyrodiil. Fandus changed his name, and settled in Caldera, where he married the governor's daughter, and entered local politics. There were rumours in Sadrith Mora that the Altmer woman known as Big Helende was swallowed by a giant beetle, which then flew out to sea, leaving nothing but a trail of maniacal laughter and badly-embroidered cushions. But, people would usually add, this is clearly ridiculous. Muriel Sette and Erer Darothril simply vanished. But the latter has appeared and disappeared many times in Tamrielic history, and no doubt he will do so again. Back, then, briefly, to a ship, heading north across the Sea of Ghosts, and two tired elves, slumped on the deck. "How're you feeling?" "My head's cold. You're all right, you have hair." "Yeah, mostly in my mouth, with this wind. D'you want to go below?" "No." A pause. "I wish I had that stupid fucking hat he knitted me, though." "Maybe he--" "Don't. I still don't know." A longer pause, as the clouds scudded by overhead. "He offered to teach me to knit, once, forever and ever ago. I couldn't see the point, since he already made me things, and I had important books to read." "No knitting lessons in Sweating Slutbags of--" "Shut your awful face, I'm remi-fucking-niscing. I... gods, I just... I wish I'd realised he was only trying to find an activity to share with me that wasn't some outdoorsy thing, which he knew I hated. I thought knitting looked boring, but now I wonder if it'd be soothing, give my fingers something mechanical to do, when my brain stops working." "Better than that poisonous stuff you keep smoking." "Yes, well. Even if I could knit, everything close to wool I've seen in Morrowind is rough and horrible. No doubt it's made out of scathecraw, or something that used to be inside a beetle." A snort. "And knowing me, all I'd succeed in making would be one big tangled knot." North, still north, as the sky began to shade. "D'you want me to shave my head, then, for company?" "No!" "Sure? I don't mind. It's getting too long, anyway." "It is not too long! And don't you dare shave it. Long hair has its uses." Catching Ire's smirk, but not the reason, Julan slid him a suspicious look. "Oh, really?" With a sudden grab, Iriel caught a handful, and yanked Julan's head into his lap. "Really," he told Julan's broadening grin. "Now sit the fuck up, I'm going to braid it." next: 183: proof previous: 181: communication beginning: 1: numb