#i just think its a cop out that Sonic is an alien. What can't you handle an alternate universe with furries???

[lazlolullaby]

Angel Island Guardians Wachowski pt 1 backstory

tldr: Sonic Unleashed based universe where Mobians, Chao, Humans + sacred creatures just exist. Like real life except there's Mobians just chilling on the streets + in the history books.

This exists for 2 reasons: More Mobians, Sonic needs friends. And giving Tom and Maddie some things to do for plot/character aside from, "this our foster kid Sonic and the family nemesis Eggman".

This is my sandbox, please sit and enjoy. Incorporating video game/TV show lore in broad strokes, just take what you want.

Part 1: general changes (here)

Part 2: Sonic movie 1 + 2 changes (https://www.tumblr.com/lazlolullaby/766607274156376064/angel-island-guardians-wachowski-pt-2-movie?source=share)

~millions of years ago, when the Earth was created

In ancient times, the Master Emerald and the Chaos emeralds were created when Light and Dark Gaia first clashed. Mobians and Humans have used them for power, fought over them, but they are now considered myths. Their power to change thought into reality created some sacred beasts like the Pheonix from Unleashed, weird architecture / rock loop de loops, etc. Chao gardens exist as protected areas across the globe.

~50 years ago (only to be revealed in Movie 3)

A joint Mobian/Human project of researching and healing diseases that affect one species but not the other was created. Several creatures were created in pursuit of immortality. (Involve the family of Dr. Starline, Tails, or Sticks as their main Mobian scientist?). The Biolizard happened, Shadow was created for Maria, the Gizoid incident, etc. But it was shut down violently by GUN. Any creatures that were made were placed in cold storage.

Per the fandom theory, Grandpa Wachowski shot Maria and had issues with it. He left to Green Hills.

~25 years ago (only to be revealed in movie 2)

The Echidnas gathered the Emeralds + were about to attack the Master Emerald Temple and the Chao. Tikal summoned the Owls + and tried to fight. The Temple was raised out of the ground to become Angel Island. The island gets teleported away. Tikal's dedication changed many minds and (most) Echidnas stopped being Warriors and decided just to live as civilians.

Angel Island was teleported to Green Hills. It floats above the forests and moves in a pattern. There's a few spots per year for roughly 1-2 weeks that gets it close enough to the ground so people can jump on it and climb the sheer rock face. It's difficult for most people and Mobians.

Dad Wachowski and his bestie, Maddie's Dad... uh...Dad Sumpter, figure it out. There's just a small Chao garden and a Temple for the Master Emerald, room for a small edible garden, but due to the altitude and rain conditions it's hard to grow anything substantial. The Spirit of Tikal tells the besties what happened. They decide to keep it a secret, because why would they want unlimited power anyway? They tell people that it's too hard to climb, and spend the next few years visibly "training" to get strong enough to climb up there.

(training where they go to the local rock climbing place and throw buckets of the water on each other to simulate rain. There's a local competition now.)

Then they take pictures of barren places for the research + get the Government to sign off that it's a highly dangerous hike and there's just the Chao. The Guardians have to divert attention from thrill seeking tourists, but it's not bad. Some locals suspect something is up there, but don't pry.

Tom Wachowski + Maddie Sumpter grow up each year watching their family climb up the Island and check in on the Emerald and the Chao. Then they do it too. Rachel was trained, but she's been out of practice since moving to San Francisco. Since they don't have kids, they're looking into getting a club together of locals who are in on it. Maybe the Thorndykes, since they're rich and don't need to have jobs to live? But they only have a vacation home, so it's not feasible.

Also the Wachowskis have Chao Companions that come down and chill with them sometimes. Based on the SA2 Chao they are both adults. Tom's is Normal/Power, Maddie's is a Fly/Power. (Cheese is still normal/baby, but I like the peachy Fly/Run to match Cream the Rabbit)

(image id: infographic chart showing the difference between the Chao forms based on stats of Normal, power, run, fly, swim, and baby form.)

~15 years ago (also movie 2 + adding context for movie 1)

Longclaw comes back and says she's got a better plan for the Master Emerald. Dad Wachowski and Dad Sumpter team up with her to bury the Master Emerald in the Ruins and teleport and hide the compass in the Siberian mountains.

Unfortunately. Locke the Echidna followed them back to Angel Island. Dad Sumpter convinced Locke that he was the only one who knows where the Emerald is. Locke kills Dad Sumpter in front of Dad Wachowski, Tom, and Maddie. It's traumatic, Locke escapes.

Maddie stops climbing for grief reasons + focuses on her veterinary degree. Tom supports her. Since there's no more Master Emerald, Tom breathes easy for a bit. But then he's feeling lost without something to protect, what his family has been doing since before he was born.

Tom is still a cop, but in this world he's got "unexcused absences" (Chao emergencies), "a bad exam record" (issues with the material), and "won't meet his arrest rates" (that would follow kids for life for a dumb mistake!) so he's not qualified for Sheriff. Which is dumb because he knows the protocols, knows the people, people trust him.

(Small town "technically loose cannon" cop that's less likely to abuse his authority/power than actual real life cops, definitely still "copganda"/"this is the Ideal Cop that wields his Authority for Good Reasons", but it balances with the military depiction of "Too Much Force is Not Enough Force" that pops up in 1+2 and i hope to hell that the military continues to be assholes in Movie 3.)

anyway the local park rangers are trying to poach Tom because he's great at Search and Rescue + knows the emergency town protocols + knows all of the forest trails. (While park rangers do have some of the same issues as Cops, there's less connotations. Tom Deserves Better than being a Cop. Sonic and the franchise deserve better than Copganda.)

Wade is the Sheriff instead. Yes he's still very inconsiderate and incompetent at his job. Yes it's funny.

Maddie is both a pet veterinarian and an emergency Mobian and Chao doctor. Her and Tom trade off when they go to the Garden.

Meanwhile on the other side of the world...

Longclaw finds Sonic and takes care of him. We don't know why Sonic has superpowers he just does. we love that for him.

Locke the Echidna was unfortunately, not happy he missed the Emerald, grabbed his son and stole "the Flames of Disaster" so Knuckles could be powerful, and raised him to fight. That's why Knuckles is the Last Echidna Warrior, sworn to find and protect the Master Emerald.

Blaze, unable to take her family birthright as the guardian of Iblis, ended up with Mephiles power set. Smoke manipulation and shadow teleport. She's training to get the Flames back.

Silver got involved with the power transfer somehow and is actually the Iblis Trigger, not that anyone knows it. He's training to also head out with Blaze to collect the Flames.

(but this Knuckles + Blaze + Silver drama doesn't happen until the TV show.)

~10 years ago

Locke thought Longclaw kept the compass to the Master Emerald for herself. He gathered allies to attack her. Same as in Movie 1, Sonic was sent away for his protection.

Sonic was sent to Angel Island. He was traumatized and mute for a bit, swore never to talk about his speed powers. He spends a few days alone + was afraid to approach the Chao until he calmed down.

Tom was able to collect him and give him to a local Mobian foster family. Vanilla the Rabbit takes Sonic in, and he's a great big brother to Cream. Amy is "the girl next door who could beat you senseless". Tails' parents just drop him off in the woods one day and Sonic finds him.

Sonic grows up in Green Hills, surrounded by friends but still restless. There's projected movies in the park, so he can still see "Speed" and adore Keanu Reeves. (sudden impulse to make Sandra Bullock a Mobian. the exploding bus can only be driven by Mobians. Miss Congeniality but with Mobians.)

Cream and Tails both learn how to fly, so they go to Angel Island whenever they want. Sonic can also jump off of some mountains to get to the Island before it's time. This is where Cream meets Cheese.

Tom has a slight panic, but doesn't say anything about the Temple or the Master Emerald until "it's relevant" (see: when movie 2 happens). He just says that it's hard to get up and down for most people, his family checks in on the Chao when they can, please tell your family when you'll be up there so they won't worry.

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so. that's all the set up and world-building notes. Hope you liked it~ You've got blanket permission to use these ideas in your fanworks, but NO AI please, it's not enrichment if you're not doing it.

[greaterlandscapes]

My Dean Blunt Rotation aka High Fidelity Left A Bad Taste in My Mouth

For the past 2 to 3 months, my listening habits were teetering to an end; mostly via burnout by spontaneously listening to local artists daily and less likely of a musical discovery drought, whereas my interests of a certain artist or genre hasn't found its, sort of, "eureka", moment per se. I've been feeling less enthusiastic over the things i listen to since my friends have gradually lost their flare when it comes to discovering/exploring untapped parts of the music realm. Thus, in return, my enthusiasm not being reciprocated. It leaves an empty feeling from someone who has been yearning social interaction, may it be media being latched on the topic - it's a feeling that's been guilt-tripping me ever since I was stranded in the other end of the metro. I feel closed off, exposed to the crippling loneliness the lockdown has punished us: a defacto solitary confinement in a national level. Our act of staying online is also an act of staying alive outside.

To be fair though, it's a valid move to not boomerang compliments/gripes over an art you haven't consumed due to someone's autonomy. Your able body being to consume the art you wish to finish with free time is a luxury in of itself. The art is then failed to serve its purpose to reach its goal: You have squiggly lines heading straight to oblivion rather than swirling in the earlobes of a wandering cyber nomad. We, eventually, need to find something that could help us exit, rather than escape, from capital. We, in return, do not shut ourselves from the outside. Instead, we then tend to avoid the stress of protocols and outdoor fascism; Not avoid the indoor liberalism that is eating us alive and online. It's a capital punishment we never knew we signed up for ever since the onslaught of the virus and the state. Art for art's sake is nonexistent now, always has been, it seizes to ever since we went inside. Feeding off of a holographic meatloaf coming from a glowing screen. We have a real-life Karen acting as a nightlight in our rooms.

The COVID lockdown made us listen to music — both for better, for worse. For one, it made us pass most days. You could say the same for any sort of media: film, mixed media art, or whatever pre-Covid activity that sprung up during our time in isolation. For music, however, there was an uptick of new listeners that made others Wheel-of-Fortune the fuck out of their music discoveries in sites like RateYourMusic, Bandcamp, or even Sophie's Floorboard. We've continued to expand and became more open change of opinions and be less of a jackass towards someone else's opinions. On second thought, our opinions have been catalogued, leaving more notes than actual footprints of our previous listens. Our new discoveries made new bands and re-emerging bands, bands who faded to obscurity, crawl back in the surface with newfound interest from younger listeners (ie Panchiko, Jai Paul, and Dean Blunt) and this glowing, previously unseen and unexpected overwhelming support from fans of departed artists (ie SOPHIE, MF DOOM)

For the other, we've hogged gratuitous amounts of media, resulting into losing our primary direction as to how we want to consume our media based on the preconceived notions of what we want in our art. There is goodness in becoming directionless when you think about it, but there comes a cost to our identity as music listeners. Instead, we end up widening our tangents, falling in endless rabbit holes, having zero chances to emerge from the surface. In fact, i refuse to call it a "rabbit hole" instead i'd rather call it a "pipeline" of sorts — transitioning casual music fans into a full on, different, unique versions of themselves that would define them when laws and protocols have eased in the outside world. Our act of staying online has either made most of us break our character or enliven our past selves. The music pipeline is now more apparent, stretching the norms of what was once alienated by a silent majority, but now accepted as an acceptable form of expression. The more music we are exposed to has made casual listeners stranged out or react in ways that our personality have betrayed us or deemed not as acceptable to them. Still, not changing anything that was prominent pre-pandemic. Liberal cop behavior is stronger, now more dangerous than it ever was once perceived by the outside world.

HIGH FIDELITY? NO, THANK YOU.

Imagine a situation inside of a record, pre-pandemic of course, where you do not feel like lifting a record out from the shelf, instead, you window shop just for the sake of windowshopping. Capital and media made us think that going to record shops is a semi-productive activity. The age of discovery has died ever since High Fidelity romanticized and normalized the incelage of horny record diggers. Does this movie age well, yeah sure it does, for old 90s nerds at least. But did it translate well over in the past 20 or more years of events and tragedies that unfolded in pre-9/11 America? No it didn't. It was an age of free expression, only liberals would dream of whenever they take a sip of Guinness beer in their favorite dive bar.

Mind you, over a couple of months ago, it was my only chance in seeing why this movie was the talk of the town back when it was released. There's music, yeah, and attractive leading leadies, yeah, it has everything a 90s kid would love to salivate and drop their gonads over while they watch this movie. I obviously did not live to see the movie on opening day but i could imagine the scent that came out of that movie theater with attendees donning windbreakers and The Who shirts with popcorn dressing stains on their plastic cups. If there was a Filipino counterpart to this movie, i'd bet corporate champions Eraserheads and Rivermaya would soundtrack their music over and have either Tado or have Boy 2 Quizon, but i sense it to age like milk more than it could age like fine wine due to the senseless jokes one can execute in a Cubao or Cartimar record store.

John Cusack is obviously the incel in question here: a damaged, vengeful ex who constantly fails to live his partner's expectations and weaponizes his personality over the situations that has nothing to do with his interests. I spent the entire time being absolutely disgusted over the spineless responses of John Cusack's leading character. The movie then treads on flashbacks with John Cusack's failed relationships and what he could do to move on from each and one of them. If i could stand a SONA for 3 hours then I can't stand John Cusack being the dull entry point to incel, making more reasons why you should hate record store clerks who don't give an iota of shits to someone's inviting rapport. High Fidelity is opium for massive music circle jerks who can't take a single breathe of fresh air or a single quota of touching grass. There's more targeting weak and inferior guys and hot women who dump dumb overconfident dudebros more than the actual "music recs" in the entire movie. The more I think about this movie, the more I realize how our personality is in line towards Dick, the record store being unmercifully dunked on by the movie's two leading characters. He's an angel in the world of cynical bastards, witnessing both demons pitchforking record store customers in the ass while they're purchasing the latest Sonic Youth album.

I believe that Jack Black, the dark horse of High Fidelity, has a pleasing personality more than an irritating demeanor due to this behavior in the record store. In fact, outside of the record store, Jack Black doesn't seem to take the business is your pleasure act pretty seriously. Unlike John Cusack's character he brought his obsession over involving a record in an important memory/point of his life. There is so much stuff that has happened outside of the record store, so much for Rolling Stone and NME being the bible of music at the time, endlessly christening and shilling artists that believe to become the second coming of the Beatles. The music references here however are treated as fluff than it is a mechanism that would drive the senseless plot forward. If anything, there are events pointed out in the event that doesn't have anything to do with the life of the characters.

If anything, this movie did a great job at capturing the feeling of music bros being dumped on the wayside by a mature set of characters and how their current conditions aren't perfumed by the studios' liking of having to Cinderella story the shit out of a bunch of normal record store owners. The reality is in the reaction of one's social capital being invaded and we're here to witness how those reactions panned out in 2021. This is a villainous depiction of music nerds being the salt of the earth, the bane of all media discussion, still reflective of the insufferable salt of cyberspace found in music forums like 4chan and RYM. High Fidelity is a pipeline of 90s musicology, a dreaded fever dream of an owner waiting for the decade to end, trends ossifying and re-emerged by the hands of nostalgia-savvy individuals. It was, at its time, every music-movie nerd's excuse equivalent of Scott Pilgrim VS. The World. There are memories worth remembering and cherishing, and this movie isn't one of them.

DEAN BLUNT, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

In the past two weeks I've been fancying myself into sitting down and listening to different projects from the ever elusive, UK-based sound artist Dean Blunt. The first time i chanced upon his music wasn't too long ago - albeit a recent one in the time of COVID - was when I randomly stumbled upon his records at a Spotify recommendations section under John Maus (yeah lol i know the implications whenever his name is mentioned) - but then i was enamored by his online presence so quickly I put everything down and dedicated an hour or two researching about this man's music.

Other than the fact that his album "The Redeemer" wasn't the best record to start off in journeying through his discography: ending up disgusted and borderline bored even and I was more likely to lambast this record's aimless, pretentious art-pop inflections. By the end of the day, it was a preference long solidified by his undying fanbase. According to his hardcore fans, the music isn't really music, evaluating it as a free form of sound art, rather than sticking to a structured and conventional cues; the genre is nullified by most analysts of the arts. The growing interest of the general public towards Dean Blunt's pranks and antics have long appealed to my tastes as a chaotic neutral individual. Pranks that are well executed to piss off UK gallery connoisseurs and entertain ironic attendees who'd shit on the art piece rather than participate in it.

More of the resources I've found about Dean Blunt online: numerous aliases and collaborations that lasted around almost 2 decades. The most notable of all them, at least for my money, are either Hype Williams, a duo consisting of Dean and frequent collaborator Inga Copeland, and Babyfather, an art performance parodizing the pirate radio culture in the UK. I have not delved enough in Blunt's body of work to evaluate everything and what i could synthesize from it. For now, I enjoyed it as a form of entertainment. Well, color me impressed because Dean Blunt isn't clowning around, he, in fact, makes blissful and transcendental music from left to right.

Dean Blunt was the only few artists that made me want to binge on their discography. His movements in his music has attracted this pesky listener who thinks that being mysterious is a plus. I mean, look at me who thinks The Paul Institute, Panchiko, and Burial are the greatest artists that have walked the face of the earth.

The most I've enjoyed from Dean Blunt's discography are his mixtapes and collaborations: preferably his Soul Fire and ZUSHI, both of which were packaged as B-sides or supplemental releases rather than major releases such as the Babyfather project or the Black Metal releases. His knack for blurring the lines between genres still fascinate me as of this writing, and it continues to amaze me how he doesn't seize to compromise his art, he's here to prove a point and it sells quite well despite the lack of direction in his music. Blunt's music has more aggressive and hazy texture than the hollow, wide, soulless structure of art-pop/hypnagogic pop released today. He creates terrains from the rubble of his country's current shortcomings. The music overlaps the actual intentions with abstract concepts, becoming deconstructed down the line. In Babyfather, noise music coincides with Blunt's amateurish rapping. In Black Metal, Blunt isolates himself along with the assisted skeletal guitar playing. Both projects throwing all tropes in a vaccum alongside Blunt, who he himself would sought to become a personification of a musical void.

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(Excerpt from the Babyfather album review in TinyMixtapes)

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Dean Blunt is an entity that wishes to become one person, but no, this isn't a figure in a specific art form; this isn't Banksy, this isn't Bob Ong, this is made by one person, clearly it is if you listen closely, and it's been entrancing me ever since his presence was felt on the horizons of the internet. Dean Blunt, what the actual fuck.