#forerunner trilogy

[bloodgulchblog]

Forthencho has been dead for 100,000 slutty, slutty years

[dougielombax]

Sometimes I refer to someone’s occupation, along with the associated skills, qualifications and specialties as their “rate”.

Albeit ONLY in casual conversation.

Yes you can tell that the Forerunner trilogy had a big influence on me in a few areas.

[monitorchakas]

LOCAL INHABITANTS 100,000 YEARS AGO???

POSSIBLY MODERN AND NEANDERTHAL HUMANS???

SO I NEVER REALIZED WE HAD THIS BEFORE THE FORERUNNER TRILOGY

I thought it was only halo 3 terminals I completely forgot about this part of evolutions

Absolutely awesome seeing how far back the roots of this lore goes

[halo-smashorpass]

Gamelpar

[monitorchakas]

ASFGDDYXFJFFH

FLORIAN

FLORIAN

Day Chaser Makes Paths Long Stretch Morning Riser

My favorite florian

Melon shop next to the Flórián shopping center, Budapest, 1989. From the Budapest Municipal Photography Company archive. 

[snarltoothed]

quite excited to read this edition of the Herland Trilogy! ofc there was a short biography of Charlotte Perkins Gilman before this foreward, but I thought you gyns might appreciate this bit about The Forerunner especially

(sorry for the somewhat poor quality image that you need to zoom to read + my finger lol)

[wanderingnork]

Gith Deep Dive: The Illithiad, The Mind Flayer Trilogy, and the Forerunners

Ask and ye shall receive: this option won the poll on what I should deep dive first. Two thousand words later, please enjoy.

We all know the basic story of the gith: a massive, terrifying illithid empire was brought down by a slave revolt led by a warrior named Gith. The unified rebellion tore apart the empire, but then fell to internal fighting, leaving the githyanki and githzerai forever separated. It's virtually identical in every source, with only tiny changes. Whatever happens after that, this is the one thing everyone can agree on.

But where did the gith come from before the illithids?

ORIGINS

Over the course of D&D history, we get a few glimpses into the earliest days of the gith, before they were even called that. No real attempts were made in 4th or 5th Edition to get into the deep history of the githyanki, but 2nd Edition (2E) and Edition 3.5 (just 3.5) both give us a look. First, back in 2E, the book Planescape: A Player’s Guide to the Planes (p.12). Here, the gith are simply originally from the Prime Material Plane, in a place called Gith—notably, the legendary figure herself is absent from this telling, although she's not missing from "A Guide to the Astral Plane" and other 2E sources. Probably a case of discontinuity. Unsurprising, considering just how many 2nd Edition Planescape books were published!

As for 3.5, we get several tastes of the possible origin story. First, there's the empire of Zarum, on the world of Oerth (home of the Greyhawk campaign setting). It appears in three linked sources for the Chainmail Miniatures game (Chainmail Miniatures, Set 2: Blood & Darkness; Dragon #294 – Chainmail: Underground Scenarios; Dragon #298 – Wizards' Workshop: Chainmail). Zarum is no more than subterranean ruins now, with its crumbled former capital serving as a drow outpost, and only hints of its mysterious inhabitants remaining.

In the "Invasion of Pharagos" campaign concept, published in Polyhedron magazine #159, a small planet is presented as the ancestral home of the githyanki. The long-dead body of their patron goddess, a deity of patience and perseverance who was killed at the height of Gith's rebellion, still lies buried and forgotten under the crumbling ruins of their greatest city. There aren't many further details given, since the focus of the article is on githyanki PCs and how they would participate in the invasion as Vlaakith's servants.

Finally, the strangest origin theory of all comes from the Lords of Madness sourcebook. Here, it's revealed that the illithids are actually a species from the future. Under attack by an unknown and terrible enemy, they traveled backwards from the end of time itself to reestablish their empire in the past. They might have enslaved the gith progenitors upon arrival. Or the alternative: "The base race from which [the githyanki and githzerai] derived is unknown; gith progenitors might have been brought to the distant past from the illithid empire at time’s end…" (p.73)

That's a whole lot to unpack right there.

-

Regardless of which of these, if any, is the true story, there's a source that allows us to meet these earliest gith—quite simply called the Forerunners.

Continued below the cut, because this is so incredibly long.

THE ILLITHIAD

The Illithiad is a huge volume for 2nd Edition D&D which sets up a lot of the illithid lore we take for granted these days. The various illithid Creeds, the society, Ilsensine, the biology, all of it had its full genesis here. Of course, it discusses the gith. The details of the githyanki are typical and unexceptional, although it includes one of the most spectacularly spooky pieces of githyanki art ever.

(Credit to artist James Crabtree.)

The Illithiad supports a trilogy of adventures, the "Mind Flayer Trilogy," in which player characters undertake a quest to stop illithids from destroying every sun and star in the multiverse.

Yeah.

While the first adventure just sets up the whole production, introducing the illithid plot and giving the adventurers reason to take action, it's in the second adventure of the trilogy (Masters of Eternal Night) where the Forerunners make their appearance. The player characters, after an extended journey while an unnatural winter rages around them, discover an ancient, crashed illithid ship in the center of a crater. In the first area they enter, they discover the skeletons of humanoids and an illithid who died in combat. A player can identify a skeleton as something like githyanki and githzerai, but the text reveals the truth: the skeletons are far more ancient than that. They're the remnants of the forerunner species. The ship crashed during an escape from the gith rebellion.

Dozens of skeletons litter the ship. Some still in prison, many with holes punched in their skulls by long-ago tentacles, some with weapons in hand. One eerie discovery in a chamber full of supplies for taking care of thralls is a sealed elixir of youth. In 2E, the elixir of youth could make a humanoid drinker younger by two to five years. Although an illithid could certainly use this, since it's qualified as a humanoid in that edition, the presence of the elixir among other supplies intended for thralls would suggest it was also designed for their use. I don't really want to go too deep into why this is awful, so I'll leave it to your imagination.

-

Finally, though, we meet some living beings. In the garden of the ship, there's a single surviving forerunner, kept alive by the strange temporal magic of the ship. Anyone who speaks the modern gith language can manage to communicate simply with him: his name is Bomwe and he has no concept of a world beyond illithid control. The players can get little information out of the terrified man, and if they convince him to accompany them he'll obey any mind flayer without question.

Deeper inside the ship, a group of forerunners, armed and wearing "headmeshes" that protect against illithid psionics, is on the verge of overcoming a group of illithids. The DM narration is clear that if the players don't get involved, the forerunners have an 80% chance of victory. It's a guarantee if the players do jump in to help. This group, prior to the crash millennia ago, was part of the rebellion, and they were ready to win.

The leader of the group is fascinating. Going by name of Nilton, he wears illithid-skin-leather armor, a headmesh, and carries a spiked club—armed to the teeth by ancient standards. He can read a little of the illithid script, which usually requires four tentacles as well as psionic ability. He has the morale level "Fearless," meaning that barring truly exceptional circumstances he will never flee from a foe. In his statistics, he has a psionic power called "molecular rearrangement," which in its most potent form allows transmuting lead to gold or metal to glass merely by thinking. Most commonly, though, it's used to temper and strengthen weapons. A psionicist with weaponsmithing abilities can create a magic weapon simply by thinking. (Complete Psionics Handbook, AD&D 2nd Edition, p.35)

-

This gives some sense of what the rebellion under Gith might have looked like. Slaves armed with whatever they could carry, wearing the skin of their former masters for armor, with leaders capable of reshaping matter with their thoughts and withstanding any fear the illithids could throw at them. If Nilton is representative of an average leader, one can only imagine what Gith herself would have been like.

Given what we hear in the game Neverwinter Nights 2, that Zerthimon crafted the first silver sword for Gith, perhaps he did it with the use of psionics—transmuting a piece of wood or bone into a weapon fit for a queen.

TO PENUMBRA

Although Nilton will assist the characters during the remainder of the exploration of the ship, he's not mentioned again directly in the adventure. Nor is he mentioned in the opening of the final adventure of the trilogy, "Dawn of the Overmind." Hard to believe he wouldn't try to come along, though, considering that the adventurers are on their way to stopping the rise of a new illithid empire.

This adventure carries players, aboard a nautiloid ship, to the distant planet of Penumbra. It's an artificial construction, a planet-sized disc hovering in space that was once the seat of illithid power at the height of the empire. It's here that we meet the modern forerunners of the gith: the branch of the species that never left the world once ruled by the mind flayers. From here on out, I'll just refer to them as the Penumbrans.

Unlike their downright skeletal cousins among the modern gith, the Penumbrans just look like gaunt, long-limbed humans. They have black eyes, bone-colored skin, and slightly pointed ears. Only one in a hundred Penumbrans possesses any real psionic ability, unlike their universally-psionically-gifted ancestors or modern cousins. Due to the sheer size of Penumbra, millions of Penumbrans live on the disc. Some live in kingdoms, some in clans, and some—like the villagers in this adventure—live subsistence lives surrounded by monsters in the dark.

See, Penumbra's sun has been almost fully blocked out by the illithid construction. The entire planet exists in perpetual twilight, meaning that the Penumbrans all have night vision. Their eyes glow like cats' eyes in firelight (and yes, that's in a sidebar).

No one on the disc has any memory of the rebellion thousands of years ago, or any idea that they have strange cousins living on other planes. Their language is close enough to the modern gith langauge that a character who speaks it can communicate basic ideas. But, all things considered, the Penumbrans are almost a completely different species. Their role in the adventure is to set the players on the right path and give them a refuge from the dangers of Penumbra.

Although the village's chieftain has a psionic longsword, these aren't the silver-sword-wielding pirates and matter-shaping monks that players know and love. These are shepherds and weavers, who raise alien sheep and wield bronze swords at best. For players who don't plan to stay on Penumbra after the adventure is over and the illithids are stopped, the Penumbrans are just a poignant vision of what the gith elsewhere in the multiverse could have become.

MUTATION

This is where that vision takes a turn for the tragic. In the lair of one of the adventure's major villains, a pair of bizarre "tumerogenesis tanks" can be found. Any character who makes the fucking boneheaded decision to drink from the tanks (or worse, dive in) suffers a massive seizure. Then, if they're unlucky enough to fail a "system shock" roll, they start violently mutating. Their organs might climb out of their body, bits of their bodies might explode, and—my personal favorite—an arm might simply drop off and crawl away of its own accord. On the other hand, they might gain a wildly beneficial mutation: weapon invulnerability, psionic powers, and more.

Of course, this is a fun hazard and temptation for impulsive players. But it's a starkly disturbing piece of lore. While the githyanki and githzerai all hold strongly that it was their own will that gave them the strength to overcome the illithids, there's a chance that some of the ancient forerunners were put through genetic experimentation to change them into a better fighting force. Psionic, spiritual, and physical gifts, as well as changes to the body, could all have resulted from experimentation.

The Penumbrans, looking so human and lacking in gith psionics, might well be the forerunners who were never put through this mutation process.

Historical records from the period have all been destroyed. And, according to sources in all later editions of D&D, the consensus is that the forerunners acquired their power simply by ambient exposure and selective reproduction by illithids. Still, this idea lingers—that maybe the illithids truly created their own worst enemy.

If that's true, the gith may never escape the touch of their most hated enemies, even if they were to wipe out every mind flayer in the multiverse.

[koboldfactory]

Do you have an inspiration for the Futuristic/high tech themes and designs in your setting? You mentioned Sonic once, but I wonder if there's more

Sonic is a big one for sure. I’d say the other primary ones are probably Portal 2 and the Halo Trilogy. I’m heavily influenced by the early forerunner architecture as well as the gritty industrial vibe of the human tech in Halo

[bloodgulchblog]

Greg Bear has passed away.

He's more famous for his original works of science fiction (he's known as one of the great worldbuilders, I have always meant to read more of his work) but I knew him for the Forerunner Trilogy.

He got into caring about Halo because of his daughter. When he was offered a chance to write a short story for the Evolutions anthology, he said he would prefer to write something longform instead. Those three books (even though the middle one's not my style) are one of the most well-done parts of the written Halo canon. Like, better than Halo honestly deserved.

I'm glad he made them and we got to have them.

...I don't know how to end this post, eulogies for people you didn't actually know are impossible, so here is his drawing of the Primordial. because it endeared me enormously.

[dougielombax]

Aww, FUCK!

I forgot that Greg Bear died last year!

[monitorchakas]

Please clap reblog the polls to spread the outreach numbers

[halo-smashorpass]

[by-glass-and-waves]

Intro post time :o

Hi I'm Glass, 30F (she/her). I spend way too much time with worldbuilding or story ideas or exploring themes SIGH. I'd enjoy building/upgrading my computers if I had the money and space for it >:( I also find driving (without traffic or a ton of stoplights) while listening to music super relaxing (eg my story playlists)

I really like to draw/write about Narinder/The One Who Waits 🙃

I've got four Cult of the Lamb AUs/storylines on a sliding scale of dark to lighthearted:

Depression Quest (fic, cw: abuse, self harm, depression)

The Courtship of the God of Death (fic, cw: unhealthy/toxic relationship, obsession, jealousy, manipulation, violence, gore, emotional/psychological abuse)

Restart (cw: violence, gore)

19th Century AU

More on the AUs below the cut

Interests: Dragon's Dogma, Cult of the Lamb, Final Fantasy IX, Neon Genesis Evangelion, No Man's Sky, Rune Factory 4/5, Skyrim, Fallout New Vegas/4, Nier Replicant/Automata, pre-Destiny Bungie lore + Destiny's Book of Sorrows and a few other bits + Halo's Forerunner Trilogy

My name comes from something I wrote for my oc worldbuilding project:

He pressed against the glass of time, feeling it crack beneath his fingers. He stepped into the tides of space, seeing the water part for his feet. … He broke through the glass, looked down at them again. … He swam through the rising tides to a new world.

Depression Quest:

My very First Idea™ for Cult of the Lamb. It follows the canon ending of Lamb conquering The One Who Waits. Essentially, the Lamb turns Narinder into a trophy husband, and Narinder does not have a good time.

This is my darkest au and includes things such as abuse, self harm, depression, etc. My favorite thing is the fact that Ratoo and Narinder eventually become friends. I've written a chapter but the fic won't be updated often. Tag: #cotl depression quest

The Courtship of the God of Death:

This is the fic I've published on AO3. Follows the alternate ending of The One Who Waits regaining the Red Crown and his freedom, but instead of sacrificing the Lamb, he accepts their proposal to become his Consort and rule over the Cult by his side. He enjoys his victory, deals with the Lamb's affection for him, and processes what happened between he and his siblings.

It starts out lighthearted, then becomes a descent into darker themes such as obsession, jealousy, manipulation, emotional/psychological abuse, and the toxic relationship between the Lamb and Narinder. It also includes some violence and gore. It borrows some stuff from Depression Quest, and involves the majority of my headcanons/worldbuilding. Tags: #cotl courtship, #cotl the courtship of the god of death, #the courtship of the god of death, #cult of the lamb the courtship of the god of death

Restart:

Follows the alternate ending of The One Who Waits sacrificing the Lamb and regaining the Red Crown. He gets bored and decides to time/worldjump to another version of The Lands of the Old Faith, replacing Ratau/the Lamb as the crusader against the Bishops. Too bad he's a thousand years out of practice.

This is more slice of life and includes Narinder and Lamb arguing like a married couple but there's some drama in there. It does include violence and gore since Narinder does have to go on his Crusades and fight his siblings. This one does not have a fic written, it's more ideas I've doodled. Well, I did have a chapter written, but it may be posted as a separate piece instead.

tl;dr Narinder goes New Game+ and becomes the player character (but he really sucks at it). Tag: #cotl restart

19th Century AU:

Created after watching of Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, and Emma. It follows Prince Narinder of the Kingdom of the Old Faith Amenthes, investor of Ratau and Ratoo Trading Company, who has just moved into Acheron Estate. He bumps into the Lamb by chance while meeting with Ratau, and hires her as his servant after being intrigued by her fiery personality.

It's a slice of life and is a silly, self-indulgent AU written as if it was a screenplay. Maybe I'll post the scenes on AO3 even though they're out of order. Tag: #cotl 19th century AU

Also made a concept playlist (ask box post with song list, WIP) on the AUs because I'm absolutely nuts

I've also written mad ideas and wrote a few bits on an OC worldbuilding thing I've had since like 2010 or something no idea if people might be interested in it and it's as convoluted as the Kingdom Hearts series soooo Tag: #three kids and their pet ghost

[cyberpunkonline]

Cyberspace Sentinels: Tracing the Evolution and Eccentricities of ICE

As we hark back to the embryonic stages of cyber defense in the late 1990s, we find ourselves in a digital petri dish where the first firewalls and antivirus programs are mere amoebas against a sea of threats. The digital defenses of yore, much like the drawbridges and moats of medieval castles, have transformed into a labyrinth of algorithms and machine learning guards in today's complex cybersecurity ecosystem. The sophistication of these systems isn't just technical; it's theatrical.

The drama unfolds spectacularly in the cyberpunk genre, where Intrusion Countermeasures Electronics (ICE) are the dramatis personae. Let's peruse the virtual halls of cyberpunk media to encounter the most deadly, and delightfully weird, iterations of ICE, juxtaposing these fictional behemoths against their real-world counterparts.

We commence our odyssey with William Gibson’s "Neuromancer," where ICE is not only a barrier but a perilous landscape that can zap a hacker's consciousness into oblivion. Gibson gives us Black ICE, a lethal barrier to data larceny that kills the intruding hacker, a grim forerunner to what cybersecurity could become in an age where the stakes are life itself.

CD Projekt Red’s "Cyberpunk 2077" gives us Daemons, digital Cerberuses that gnash and claw at Netrunners with malevolent intent. They symbolize a cyber-Orwellian universe where every keystroke could be a pact with a digital devil.

The chromatic haze of "Ghost in the Shell" offers ICE that intertwines with human cognition, reflecting a reality where software not only defends data but the very sanctity of the human mind.

In Neal Stephenson’s "Snow Crash," the Metaverse is patrolled by ICE that manifests as avatars capable of digital murder. Stephenson's vision is a reminder that in the realm of bytes and bits, the avatar can be as powerful as the sword.

"Matrix" trilogy, portrays ICE as Sentinels — merciless machines tasked with hunting down and eliminating threats, a silicon-carbon ballet of predator and prey.

On the small screen, "Mr. Robot" presents a more realistic tableau — a world where cybersecurity forms the battleground for societal control, with defense systems mirroring modern malware detection and intrusion prevention technologies.

"Ready Player One," both the novel and Spielberg's visual feast, portrays IOI’s Oology Division as a form of corporate ICE, relentless in its pursuit of control over the Oasis, guarding against external threats with a militaristic zeal that mirrors today's corporate cybersecurity brigades.

And let’s not overlook the anarchic "Watch Dogs" game series, where ICE stands as a silent sentinel against a protagonist who uses the city’s own connected infrastructure to bypass and dismantle such defenses.

Now, let us tether these fictional marvels to our reality. Today’s cybersecurity does not slumber; it's embodied in the form of next-gen firewalls, intrusion prevention systems, and advanced endpoint security solutions. They may not be as visceral as the ICE of cyberpunk, but they are no less sophisticated. Consider the deep packet inspection and AI-based behavioral analytics that cast an invisible, ever-watchful eye over our digital comings and goings.

Nevertheless, the reality is less bloodthirsty. Real-world cyber defense systems, as advanced as they may be, do not threaten the physical well-being of attackers. Instead, they stealthily snare and quarantine threats, perhaps leaving cybercriminals pining for the days of simple antivirus skirmishes.

But as the cyberverse stretches its tendrils further into the tangible world, the divide between the fantastical ICE of cyberpunk and the silicon-hardened guardians of our networks grows thin. With the Internet of Things (IoT) binding the digital to the physical, the kinetic potential of cybersecurity threats — and therefore the need for increasingly aggressive countermeasures — becomes apparent.

Could the ICE of tomorrow cross the Rubicon, protecting not just data, but physical well-being, through force if necessary? It is conceivable. As cyberpunk media illustrates, ICE could morph from passive digital barricades into active defenders, perhaps not with the murderous flair of its fictional counterparts but with a potency that dissuades through fear of tangible repercussions.

In the taut narrative of cybersecurity’s evolution, ICE remains the enigmatic, omnipresent sentinel, an avatar of our collective desire for safety amidst the binary storm. And while our reality may not yet feature the neon-drenched drama of cyberpunk's lethal ICE, the premise lingers on the periphery of possibility — a silent admonition that as our digital and physical realms converge, so too might our defenses need to wield a fiercer bite. Will the cyberpunk dream of ICE as a dire protector manifest in our world? Time, the grand weaver of fate, shall unfurl the tapestry for us to see.

- Raz

[justforbooks]

Paul Auster

Author of The New York Trilogy who conjured up a world of wonder and happenstance, miracle and catastrophe

The American writer Paul Auster, who has died aged 77 from complications of lung cancer, once described the novel as “the only place in the world where two strangers can meet on terms of absolute intimacy”. His own 18 works of fiction, along with a shelf of poems, translations, memoirs, essays and screenplays written over 50 years, often evoke eerie states of solitude and isolation. Yet they won him not just admirers but distant friends who felt that his peculiar domain of chance and mystery, wonder and happenstance, spoke to them alone. Frequently bizarre or uncanny, the world of Auster’s work aimed to present “things as they really happen, not as they’re supposed to happen”.

To the readers who loved it, his writing felt not like avant-garde experimentalism but truth-telling with a mesmerising force. He liked to quote the philosopher Pascal, who said that “it is not possible to have a reasonable belief against miracles”. Auster restored the realm of miracles – and its flip-side of fateful catastrophe – to American literature. Meanwhile, the “postmodern” sorcerer who conjured alternate or multiple selves in chiselled prose led (aptly enough) a double life as sociable pillar of the New York literary scene, a warm raconteur whose agile wit belied the brooding raptor-like image of his photoshoots. For four decades he lived in Brooklyn with his second wife, the writer Siri Hustvedt.

The fortune that drives his stories played a part in his own career. City of Glass (1985), the philosophical mystery that launched his New York Trilogy and his ascent to fame, appeared from a small imprint after 17 rejections. Though the novel helped build his misleading reputation as a cool cult author, a moody Parisian existentialist marooned in noir New York, it had a pseudonymous forerunner that shows another Auster face.

Squeeze Play, published under the pen-name “Paul Benjamin” in 1982, is a baseball-based crime caper. Its disconsolate gumshoe, Max Klein, muses that “I had come to the limit of myself, and there was nothing left.” If that plight sounds typically Auster-ish, then even more so was the baseball setting. Auster adored the sport and played it well: “I had quick reflexes and a strong arm – but my throws were often wild.” In a much-repeated tale, he failed aged eight to get an autograph from his idol Willie Mays, of the New York Giants, because he had not brought a pencil. Auster “cried all the way home”.

Auster’s work is more deeply embedded in the mid-century national culture that fuelled the novels of his elders, such as Philip Roth and John Updike, than some advocates appreciated. His fables of identity-loss and alienation have emotional roots in the mean, lonely city streets he knew when young. He once insisted, to fans and scoffers who labelled him an esoteric “French” or European coterie author, that “all of my books have been about America”.

He was born in Newark, New Jersey (also Roth’s hometown). His parents, Queenie (nee Bogat) and Samuel Auster, children of Jewish immigrants from eastern Europe, set him on a classic American path of upward mobility through education while remaining, to their son, opaque. The Invention of Solitude (1982) was Auster’s haunting attempt to imagine the life of his impenetrable father. Ghostly fathers would pervade his work. As would sudden calamity. When, aged 14, he witnessed a fellow summer-camper struck dead by lightning, the event became a paradigm for the savage contingency of life, “the bewildering instability of things”. His later novel 4321 (2017), which revisits this formative trauma, cites the composer John Cage: “The world is teeming: anything can happen.” In Auster’s work, it does.

At Columbia University in New York, he studied literature, and took part in the student protests of 1968, before moving to Paris to scrape a living as a translator of French poetry (a surrealist anthology was his first published work). He lived – literally in a garret – with the writer Lydia Davis, and returned in 1974 with nine dollars to his name. Back in New York, they married, but were divorced in 1978, a year after the birth of their son, Daniel. Poetry collections followed, but Auster’s thwarted efforts to secure a decent livelihood meant that he gave his ruefully funny 1997 memoir Hand to Mouth the subtitle “a chronicle of early failure”.

In 1982, he married the novelist and essayist Hustvedt (who recalled their courtship as “a really fast bit of business”). She became his first reader and trusted guide; they had a daughter, Sophie. Husband and wife would work during the day on different floors of their Park Slope brownstone, and watch classic movies together in the evening. Auster wrote first in longhand, then edited on his cherished Olympia typewriter.

The New York Trilogy (Ghosts and The Locked Room followed a year after City of Glass) made his stock soar, and attracted both celebrity and opportunity.

Auster wrote gnomic screenplays for arthouse films (Smoke, Blue in the Face, both 1995), even directed one (The Inner Life of Martin Frost, 2007). But it was the enigmatic, hallucinatory aura of his fiction – in 1990s novels such as The Music of Chance, Leviathan and Mr Vertigo – that defined his sensibility. Sometimes this trademark style could veer into whimsy or self-parody (as in Timbuktu, 1999, with its canine hero) although stronger novels – such as The Brooklyn Follies (2005) – always pay heed to the pulse, and voice, of contemporary America. Keenly engaged in current affairs, Auster held office in the writers’ body PEN, deplored the rise of Donald Trump, and spoke of his country’s core schism between ruthless individualism and “people who believe we’re responsible for one another”.

Auster the exacting aesthete was also a yarn-hungry storyteller. If he edited a centenary edition of Samuel Beckett – a literary touchstone, along with Hawthorne, Proust, Kafka and Joyce – he also compiled a selection of unlikely true tales submitted by National Public Radio listeners. They revealed the strange “unknowable forces” at work in everyday life. In his epic novel 4321, the formal spellbinder and social chronicler meet. It sends a boy born in New Jersey in 1947 down four separate paths in life: an Auster encyclopedia, ingenious but heartfelt too. Bulk and heart also characterised his mammoth 2021 biography of the Newark-born literary prodigy Stephen Crane, Burning Boy.

The ferocity of fate that scars his work gouged wounds into Auster’s life as well. Daniel succumbed to addiction, accidentally killed his infant daughter with drugs, and died of an overdose in 2022. Auster’s cancer diagnosis came in 2023. Prolific and versatile as ever, in that year he still published both an impassioned essay on America’s firearms fixation (Bloodbath Nation) and his farewell novel, Baumgartner. Its narrative hi-jinks dance smartly over a bass chord of grief.

Auster populated a literary planet all his own, where the strange music, and magic, of chance and contingency coexist with love, dream and wonder. In Burning Boy, he wonders why Crane’s output now goes largely unread, although “the prose still crackles, the eye still cuts, the work still stings”. After 34 books, so does his own.

Auster is survived by his wife and daughter, and a grandson, and by his sister, Janet.

🔔 Paul Benjamin Auster, writer, born 3 February 1947; died 30 April 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[holyshonks]

Halo: Epitaph Review

You got that right! Spoilers below the cut.

I want to start by saying that this book felt like an apology in the same way that Infinite is an apology.

The first quarter to half of the book is just summarizing the events of the Forerunner trilogy, Halo 4, and Escalation, in the form of the Didact slowly regaining his memories. While I definitely appreciated the refresher (I forgot a lot since then), I also couldn't help but wonder who it was for. To anyone who had never engaged with any of that media, a huge amount of the book is just a rather dull recounting of events in a desert setting. To that end, the book feels targeted directly at people who love the Forerunner stories and were horrified by the hasty introduction and death of the Didact. It is, in essence:

"We're sorry we took a pivotal, beloved character with a rich story arc, introduced him to the fandom at large with zero context, and then killed him in a shitty comic. What if we did this instead?"

And is it an upgrade? Well, let's see.

The Plot

The plot of the book is that, after being super-composed (sigh), the Didact awakens in a strange desert, stripped of his memories. He slowly regains them, becoming stronger in both body and mind. He is angry at humanity, and is determined to destroy them. We get caught up with the story so far, as well as some new Didact backstory. He discovers a Haruspis, a Forerunner rate that served as custodians to the Domain, who tells him that they are outside the dormant Domain, which shut down after the Halos were fired. Forerunner souls cannot pass into it anymore because of this, including the Didact. Also, Cortana is there, trying to convince the Warden Eternal, who is guarding the Domain, to let her in. The book becomes about both foiling Cortana, who wants the Domain to herself, and killing the Warden Eternal so that the Domain can be reactivated. Lots of failed attempts, some arguing with Cortana. Along the way, he runs into other souls who are trapped outside the Domain, including, to his surprise, his old enemy, Forthencho. He explains that humans that were composed also come here. They scuffle. Didact gets punched a bunch.

Eventually the Warden sides with Cortana and allows her in the Domain, and she looses her Created upon it. The Didact makes another attempt to enter, and kills some AIs while he's at it, including this one, who has a wine mom personality that I found amusing.

Now we're in the last quarter of the book, where things start to get interesting. All the while, the Warden is chasing the Didact with his millions of forms across the Domain, leading to a Scooby-Doo-style villain chase where the Didact is throwing himself through portals and doors to evade him and eventually find Cortana. By this point, the Didact has softened and he no longer wants vengeance. There's no discussion of the Xalanyn, which I was hoping for. In a moment I don't agree with, the Didact tries to reason with Cortana and says some things that clearly rattle her before he takes his leave. Next, the final standoff with the Warden, with the help of the friends the Didact made in the desert.

The thing I liked about the last portion of the book is that it finally feels the way the Forerunner trilogy felt: a universe that felt endless and expansive, but also, a classic coming-of-age with unlikely allies. In fact, just as I thought that, the book said this:

It also had that familiar thread of silliness, such as the Didact clowning on Haruspis' hat, and during the last final battle, where, after acquiring a quantum sword, the Didact learns that the Warden has a larger, better quantum sword.

They fight, Didact wins, hooray. He reactivates the Domain and he and Forthencho make a wager to see who can get rid of the most AIs that are still in the Domain. In addition, human souls(?) can now access the Domain. However, as expected, the Didact's final action is to reunite with his wife.

The Thoughts

This book is essentially just a re-write of the Didact's ending, giving him a proper close that I didn't really realize I wanted or needed, but actually? I missed the Didact. I liked the Didact, a lot, something I kind of forgot after Halo 4. I also forgot how nice it is to read from the perspective of a Forerunner with context about the tech. Most of what we see in Halo are people marveling at the mystery of Forerunner objects. Here, the Didact knows exactly what he's looking at, which was refreshing.

This book was very much written for lore-loving Halo fans who were disappointed to see how he was killed off. It had to be, because the people who only play the games wouldn't know who he is, or the stupid way he died. On the other hand, that makes this book pretty dull for the uninitiated. I would not recommend this book to a newcomer.

Cortana absolutely did not need to be in this book. Not in the slightest. It seems like they were just trying to further entrench Eviltana to account for Infinite, while also finding a way to get rid of her army of AIs. I really didn't like the implication in the book that Cortana changed her mind about taking over the galaxy because of the Didact. One of the things I actually liked in Infinite is that Cortana realized that her actions were wrong, and tried to make up for it on her own accord. Having the Didact convince her of the error of her ways really cheapens this moment.

The other thing that kind of fell flat is the Didact's belief that his new calling is to forge his own path:

But that's not true. This choice was the Librarian's, who wanted him to forgive and learn from humanity all along. He, of all people, should know this.

Now, about the Librarian. The Great Manipulator. There's irony in the fact that she is ostensibly the character with the most agency in the entire universe, but is consistently a narrative wisp. She "is" Halo--the course of the universe as they know it unfurled from her plans. Everything that happens, happens because of her.

And yet, we never see or hear from her in any meaningful way. We never hear her story from her mouth. I already knew that she wouldn't appear, save for a big reveal at the end, because Halo novels have done this no less than twice before. It's frustrating to see her consistently presented as this ethereal figure with no real voice.

At least in Point of Light, Spark challenges her a little bit--he accuses her of manipulating him, of abandoning him and then asking for his help, of assuming he will assist her because of her imprinted influence, and ultimately, he does, because that's how powerful she is. I wanted to see some of that, to have the Didact call her out or even just disagree with her, a little. Instead, he spends the book yearning for her (I will concede that his flashbacks are a little cute, alright? You got me there).

The Librarian is complex. She's a hero and a villain. Everyone who knew her would tell you so. But you'll never hear it from her! Sigh.

Also, her choice of words: "Took you long enough, Warrior." Is that a reference to Halsey in Halo 5? We're really drawing that parallel??

To the original question of "What if we did this instead":?

I mean...I prefer the Didact "alive" than dead so, yes? I guess? You really can't be a Halo fan in 2024 without being very forgiving.

In the end, he's still essentially "checked out" making it clear that he's not going to meddle in mortal affairs anymore. So narratively, he's dead. But yeah fine, this kind of dead is better than being super-composed.

The book also slams the door on the (very huge) implications of humans being allowed in the Domain. Is it all humans? Only composed humans? The Forerunners rose to power because of their access to the Domain. Does that mean that humanity will--oh, sorry. Oh, sorry, what? The Domain is fading into obscurity? We're not telling anyone its open so we don't have to deal with that? Got it.

This point also made me laugh because the Didact is satisfied and resting on his laurels because adding humans to the Domain created "diversity", and therefore, balance. Hey, Didact? There's an entire galaxy of intelligent species out there??

Which begs one final question: Do Unggoy go to heaven?