#since dexter goes from normal dude to Blue

[find-your-flame]

this is such an incredibly specific idea that only appeals to me specifically but

shogakukan sonic manga + freakazoid crossover with hints of fleetway super sonic, nikki as dexter, sonic as freakazoid. nikki has a weird gremlin in his head who drinks all his pepsi and calls him a bitch

[legionofpotatoes]

we decided to watch all story cutscenes from the new resident evil village videogame on a whim, since it’s not really our cup of tea gameplay-wise but seems to be this massive zeitgeist moment that made us morbidly curious. And I know how much everyone cares about my thoughts on things I know very little about, so. let’s get into it huh gamers. and yeah spoilers?

for context, I’ve only played resident evil 4 and a small portion of 5. I also read the wikipedia entry for 7’s plot recently. all this to say I was only vaguely aware of how tonally wacky the series was going in

I also completely gave up following the plot of the mutagens’ soap opera, so that paid off in spades here as you might imagine

anyway so that baby in the intro. that baby’s head is just massive. humongous toddlerdome. when ethan finds the baby’s head in a jar later on. there is no way that head would fit into that jar. bad game design. no not even game design. basic stuff. one hundred years in prison for jar modeler

if I see a single functional hetero marriage in video games I will cry tears of joy. I understand their misery is kind of The Point irt them badly working through the hillbilly romp trauma but like. sheesh. at least set that up as an emotional story goal the plot will help resolve. but nope they start off miserable and it goes nowhere

I know I know the mia thing has a huge wrinkle in it but like. not really in terms of dramatic function?? set up a happy end to the re7 nightmare (miranda can keep up appearances for all she cares) and then take that all away from angry griffin mcelroy for manpain. it will still absolutely work to set up the dramatic forward momentum. why throw in this cliche Hollywood Tension in their marriage if you’re not going to address it oh maybe because it’s normalized as automatically interesting because nuclear families are a self-propagating pit of a very narrow chance at emotional happiness relying on social stigma to preserve their empty function oops my baggage slipped in yikes abort mission

I called him griffin mcelroy because I saw his face on twitter and. yeah. I will continue to do this occasionally. my house my rules

... fuck the reason I’m hung up on this is specifically because the rest of the game is so tonally dexterous (which is a shining point to me! more on that later!), and yet they felt weirdly compelled to create the aesthetic trapping of a family-at-odds trope without following it through too well. a sign of both the good and the bad stuff to come

but listen the real reason why I wanted to talk about any of this is to nitpick the fascinating backwards-engineered nucleus of the entire thing; in that this game essentially creates a melting pot of just SO many disparate horror tropes and then makes a no-holds-barred unhinged effort at weaving thick lore to piece them all together. it is truly a sight to behold. like straight up you got your backwoods fright night situation, your gothic castle vampires, your rural-industrial werewolves, and don’t forget your bloated swamp monsters over there, with then a hard left turn into robotic body horror, and the entire ass subgenre of Creepy Doll writ large, and the bloodborne tentacle monsters, and a hellboy angel bossfight, which rides on the coattails of a mech-on-mech pacific rim bonanza, and just jesus henry christ slow down

almost all of these are textural hijack jobs that don’t really get into the metaphor plain of any of those settings but the game sort-of makes an argument that the texture IS the point and revels in it. It is kind of admirable almost. The same reason why the intro felt boxed in and unmotivated is also why the rest of the game just blasts off of its hinges to the point of complete and self-indulgent tonal abandon. I kinda loved that about it. lady dimitrescu made sure to hold her hat down as she bent forward in mahogany doorways and then suddenly she’s a giant gore dragon and you settle in your temp role as dark souls man with Gun to take her ass down. Excellent??

this rhino rampage impulse to gobble up every horror aesthetic known to man comes to head when the game wrestles with its FPS trappings in what is the most hilarious solution in creating visceral player damage moments. Since most cinematics and the entire game is in first person, that leaves precious little real estate for the devs to work with if they really want to sell griffin’s physical crucible. To wit. This dude’s forearms. Specifically just the forearms. They are MASSACRED throughout the story. The poor man lives out the silent hill dimension of a hand model. by the end cutscene he looks like a neatly dressed desk clerk who had decided to stick both his grabbers into garbage disposal grinders just a few hours prior. like in addition to everything else it manages to rope in that tinge of slapstick violence into its general grievous genre collection except this time it IS for a lack of trying! truly incredible

but wait his miracle clawbacks from everything his poor paws go through are retroactively explained away, yes, but far too vaguely and far too late to console me as I sat and watched everyone’s favorite baby brother reattach an entirely severed hand to his wrist stump by just. placing it on there. and giving it a lil twist ‘n pop terminator-style. and then willing his fingers back into motion right in front of my bulging eyes. this game just does not care. it does not give a shit. and boy howdy will it work to make that into one of its strongest suits

cause generally speaking resident evil was THE premiere vanilla zombie content destinaysh for like a decade, right? and as the rest of the world and mainstream media started encroaching and bloodying its blue ocean it went and just exploded in every single conceivable horror trope direction like a smilodon on catnip. truly, genuinely fascinating franchise moves

yeah the big vampire milf is hot. other news; grass... green. although I do love the implication that her closet is just identical white dresses on a rack. cartoon network-level queen shit

apropos of nothing I’ve said there’s also this hobo dante-devimaycry-magneto man, and I can’t believe this sentence makes sense. anyway he made that “boulder-punching asshole” joke referring to chris redfield and it was probably the only easter egg that really landed for me and boy did it land hard. I have not seen him punch the boulder in re5, mind. I had only heard about how funny it is from friends. and here this dude was, probably in the same exact mindset as me, trying to grapple with that insane mental image. with you on that ian mckellen, loud and clear

I advocate vehemently against the shallow pursuit of hyper photorealism in art direction but I gotta admit it works really in favor of immersive horror like this. the european village shacks especially gave me super unchill flashbacks to my rural countryside retreat in western georgia. I could smell the linoleum dude. not cool

faces are weird in this game. can’t place it. nice textures, good animation, but the modeling template is... uuh strange? and the hair. it has that clustered-flat-clumpy look that harkens to something very specific and unpleasant but I just don’t know what. sue me

griffin’s mental aptitude to take all this shit in stride and end every seemingly traumatizing bossfight involving some fucking eldritch being yet unseen through mortal eyes by essentially throwing out an MCU quip is just. What the fuck dude? I mean that was funny how you casually yelled the f-word at a god damn werewolf that you considered a fairy tale an hour ago but are you like, all right?? it was swinging a sledgehammer the size of a bus at you, ethan

oh oh the vampires are afraid of cold and your last name is winters. I get it haha

Pro Gamer Nitpick: boss fights seemed a bit unnecessarily long?? idk why the youtuber we picked decided the ENTIRE propeller man fight counted towards the vital story scenes he was stitching together, but man mr big daddy lite there really had some get up and go huh??

why are they saying dimitrescu.. like that. is it really how you say that word or is the english language relapsing into its fetish for ending every single word with a consonant at all costs

I’m not saying it’s a dramatic miss of a twist in context of all that’s going on, but the “you died in the last game actually and have been DC’s clayface ever since” revelation is low-key. it’s. it’s just funny to me, I dont know what to say. century-old god-witch fails her evil plan after she mistakenly removes heart from what was definitely NOT just some white guy with eight fingers after all

chris realizing he’s about to become the player character and immediately swapping out his tsundere trenchcoat for the muscletight sex haver sweater

the little bluetooth speaker-sized pipe bomb he taped to his knife was nuclear?? really??? I must have missed something because that is just too good. I buy it though I totally buy it. chris just got them fun-sized nukes in his car trunk for, you guessed it, Situations

anyway this is all for now just wanted to briefly touch on how unexpectedly funny and tonally irreverent this seemingly serious game turned out to be. did not articulate any cathartic story beats whatsoever but my god it had fun connecting those plot points. he just fucking put his severed hand back on his stump and it Just Worked todd howard get in here

[spartanguard]

untitled monster loving fic (1/?)

Summary: A mysterious event ten years ago left a number of people in Boston with unusual abilities and physical attributes...whether they like them or not. Killian Jones is one of them; so is Emma Swan. Are these things curses, or blessings? Will finding each other help them decide?

rated (eventual) M | 2.4k | AO3 coming at some point

A/N: So full credit for this idea goes to @thesschesthair and her ramblings on The Deep while watching The Boys. And since it’s spooky season, and monster f***ing is a thing, ideas started spinning and....this happened. I’m not sure where exactly it’s gonna go and ngl, I definitely borrowed a plot point from Static Shock, but...it’s here. (And there will eventually be some monster loving for real.)

The door rattled in the frame as Killian Jones slammed it shut; frankly, he was surprised he hadn’t shattered it, flimsy as it was. He’d probably do it yet one of these days, but not tonight—not when he was already making a beeline for the bathroom. He needed to get out of these stifling clothes once and for all.

Granted, all clothes did that to him, so this wasn’t a new occurrence, or born of any particular stress or lengthy day. He supposed he should be used to it after all these years, but not yet. 

He tossed his jacket...somewhere, probably the sagging sofa, on his way across the flat, and kicked his shoes off equally haphazardly. There was no door for him to open to get into the restroom, and muscle memory told him where the switch was, filling the tiny space with dingy light. Only three of the four sockets above the vanity worked, and he’d been meaning to replace another burnt out bulb for...well, months. But less light meant it was harder to see the cracks in the ancient tile.

The one nice thing—the only nice thing—about this place was the tub; he probably could have afforded a slightly (very slightly) nicer apartment, but they only had stall showers, and he needed the tub. The squeaky knobs and the thud in the pipes as hot water poured out the faucet were familiar sounds. 

He almost forgot to put the stopper in the drain, but managed to get it in there before losing too much; hot water was a precious commodity, considering the water heater was older than him. He wiped his hand dry on his threadbare jeans, wondering in passing why he bothered, but forgetting it.

Like he did every night, he took stock of himself in the age-spotted mirror. He supposed he was still what would be considered attractive, even if he mostly kept to himself nowadays. Dark hair, blue eyes, a bit of stubble; lean, muscular frame. The front he gave the world still looked like the man Milah fell in love with, before...everything. The shadows under his eyes and the weight of painful memories resting on his shoulders were more recent acquisitions, though.

His tshirt was mostly clean and in decent shape; like most of his clothes, he bought it second hand and it was a couple sizes too big. It had to be. He couldn’t stand the feel of anything touching his upper body—but at the same time, couldn’t be bare. Wouldn’t dare.

He wanted to tear it off, but first had to work off the mechanism that held his prosthetic left hand on. His fingers methodically knew what to do, even if the bit of webbing between them hindered his dexterity to some extent. Once it was off, he carefully set it on the counter—the only possession of his he treated with any sort of care—and then reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it up over his head.

For the first time all day, he found relief, and was able to take a deep breath. He closed his eyes at the sensation of finally breathing freely—partly to revel in it, and partly to avoid looking in the mirror. But then another breath made him twinge, recalling the hit he took to his side while working on the docks earlier, and he had to inspect it. 

Sure enough, there was a bruise—right on top of one of his gills. 

No wonder it stung when he breathed.

God, but he hated to look at them—they perhaps weren’t as monstrous as they were right after the accident, but they were far from pretty. Deep slits arced on either side of his abdomen, the longest one sitting just above his waist and running parallel to his rib cage; subsequently smaller ones followed up his sides, ending just below his pecs. There were times he laughed at how well they framed his body hair, but those were few and far between. Scar tissue surrounded them from where the skin had healed when it first split, and he could feel the stiff skin move with every breath. It...fluttered, almost, rippling along with his muscles and lungs. 

He shuddered at the sight and turned away, continuing to strip until he was naked. The tub was full, so he shut off the flow and stepped in. He sighed again as he sank down into the warm water; it was a balm on his aching muscles. He sometimes wondered if that was another side effect—after the accident, after everything, they’d gotten a lot denser, it seemed, and he was certainly stronger, his muscles more defined. But it also meant that he was always tired, always sore, always in some sort of pain, and he only knew of two ways to deal with it. He didn’t have the cash for rum right now, so a hot bath would have to do.

Unnecessarily, he took another deep breath, and slipped below the surface of the water. His lungs quickly adapted to the change, and he was hyper aware of the constant movement coming from his gills as they worked. He exhaled and started to breathe normally—at least, as normally as was possible underwater.

He couldn’t drown, but maybe his demons could, just for a bit.

-----------------------------------------------

Emma Swan would never understand why the landlord kept locking the door to the roof; she’d just pick it again later. Besides, she was the only one that ever went up there, and unless the dude wanted to install a camera and evict her, she’d keep going. 

She had planned on taking a long, hot bath when she got home, but some asshole had used up all the hot water. It was probably just as well; she kind of didn’t feel like dealing with the inevitable mess. That’s why she had her dollar-store spray bottle, right?

It had been dumb of her not to bring it up here, though; she could already feel the itch forming between her shoulder blades, making her shift uncomfortably beneath her leather jacket. It was definitely time to get that off. (The July heat certainly didn’t help in that regard, but she could bear the discomfort; she could stand that easier than the alternative.)

She easily slipped off the red leather and let it fall on the cracked concrete of the roof, leaving her in a well-worn long-sleeved tee; it was the only way to make sure that puting the jacket on was as easy as taking it off. Plus, an extra layer helped keep things under wraps. Just one of the many things she’d learned about her situation in the last 10 years. 

(“Situation” seemed like the best term for it. Someone might call it a blessing; some might prefer curse. Honestly, it was more of an annoyance, so she figured it was best to use as neutral a term as possible.)

This was the part she both loved and hated: taking off her shirt. She knew it’d feel good to remove it, but it always hurt in motion. Oh well—like ripping off a bandaid. Quickly, trying to ignore the thousands of pricking and tugging points across her back and arms, she pulled it up over her head and let it fall on top of her jacket.

Now down to just a cami, she rolled her shoulders back and flapped her arms a few times. Yeah, flapped; what else was she supposed to call it when they were covered in feathers?

The biggest ones extended from her triceps and forearms, with smaller ones covering her skin from shoulder to wrist and between her shoulder blades. The tiniest ones blended in with her natural peach fuzz; the rest varied in size from a few inches to a couple feet and layered on top of each other like...well, like a bird’s wing.

She had wings, okay? But not like the kind you’d see on an angel in a Christmas pageant—freaking swan wings where she’d once had normal human arms. Even her hands vaguely resembled talons, but thankfully, it was easy to pass off her thick, dark nails as a really good gel manicure.

A few feathers drifted to the ground as she stretched, and she stared at them in annoyance, trying to determine if they were indicative of an oncoming molt or just incidental. She was incredibly close to catching a high-paying skip; she didn’t have time to be laid out with a molt for a week.

(Those were the weeks she did label it a curse. Last year, it had overlapped with her period. To make a long story short, she was now banned from ordering at the pizza place down the street due to some things she may have said to the teenaged delivery driver.)

She shook her arms again, watching in disdain as a few more feathers came loose, confirming her fears; damn. She did not need this right now. 

A breeze blew in from the harbor, ruffling her feathers. Some foreign bird instinct leaned into it, holding her arms out behind her to brace against it. For a minute, she let herself forget about everything—her finances, her schedule, her ever-present loneliness, the constant weight of whatever this was—and let her feathers float on the wind like they were meant to.

Fuck it. She needed to fly. 

Quickly, she undid her ponytail and threw her hair back up in a messy bun as she took long strides to the edge of the roof. There, she unlodged a loose brick, revealing a small hidden compartment below containing a white mask. It wasn’t anything fancy—the kind you could get from a party store any time of the year—but it did the job, so she slipped it on. It was best to hide your identity when you were one of the local cryptids, she figured.

(Maybe, one of these days, she’d meet another one; she somehow hadn’t in 10 years, but they had to be out there. They had to.)

Without any further hesitation, she stepped up onto the ledge, spread her arms wide, and jumped.

There was always a bit of fear that it wouldn’t work this time, that the pavement would meet her hollow bones and crush them—but then she caught an updraft and rode it up over the next building.

For at least a few hours, she could pretend to get away from everything, before the inevitable weight of her baggage brought her back down to the ground.

---------------------------------------------

Ten years prior

The explosion came from nowhere. Not that most explosions ever gave warning, and if it was going to happen anywhere, a seemingly abandoned waterfront warehouse was as likely a place as any.

The official report said it was a gas explosion; that was true enough. 

Two fatalities were listed: the building owner, one Mr. Gold, who was inside when the blast hit; and his wife, Milah, who was just outside.

[She’d asked Killian to meet her there—he didn’t fully know why, but she’d asked, and he was at her beck and call. He didn’t care that she was married; he loved her, and she loved him.

She was scared; it was visible in her darting eyes and hunched-over position. But she immediately relaxed when he rounded the corner of the building and ran to him, immediately wrapping her arms around him.

Frantically, she started to say something about her husband—that he was inside, she was worried about him and her son, and she wanted to go somewhere—anywhere—when suddenly there was a deafening sound, a wall of heat, an acrid stench, and Killian was in the water, fire at the end of his left arm and in his lungs and Milah—where was she?

It took far too long to break the surface of the harbor, only to be greeted by a scene from a war film—and the undoubtable form of Milah’s lifeless body, under smoldering debris where the building had once stood.]

The number of casualties was unknown; only one person went to the hospital, due to losing their hand in the explosion. 

There were more people in the area, within the radius of the damage, but most fled as quickly as they could.

[Emma still wasn’t sure why Neal had wanted to wander down by the docks; most of his deals went down in other parts of town, but she didn’t think too hard on the change of venue. The salty brine of the ocean was and oddly refreshing scent, compared to the typical smog and gas of the parts of the city they usually haunted.

It was kind of romantic; they were walking hand in hand, snacking on the Pop-Tarts they’d just nabbed from the corner store. She’d had a pretty intense craving for them lately and he’d been all too happy to oblige.

They took a turn down what looked like a row of warehouses in varying amounts of use; he seemed to know where he was going so she followed, taking note when he was starting to slow. She was about to ask what they were doing, but then a deafening roar screamed from the building across the street, immediately drowning them in dust and debris, and something that smelled like gas, but also not?

It didn’t matter; they needed to get out of there. They immediately sprinted off in the direction they came, not stopping until they were sufficiently out of breath. They didn’t dare linger in case the police wanted to talk to them. No thanks.

But, ugh, she’d dropped her Pop-Tart.] 

The smell of the gas lingered—though it was only labeled as such because none of the experts could place it. It was more than natural gas, more of a chemical note to it—but it didn’t match any other known chemicals. Gas was easier to explain, so that’s what they went with.

Besides, that was the only thing that got hot enough to completely disintegrate human remains; what other reason was there to explain why they couldn’t find Mr. Gold’s body among the melted, charred remnants of the building?

The site was razed, but never rebuilt. But urban legend quickly grew to talk of a mysterious figure rising out of the shadows there, said to be his ghost.

(Or possibly something worse.)

---------------------------------------

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[comicsnsuch]

Tales from the Dark Multiverse

Hi! Thanks for finding this tumblr. The plan is to share and write about comic books, comic book art, other things that interest me and such, thus the name of the tumblr. Maybe you share some of the same interests, or maybe you’ll discover something new.

I’m going to try to post as frequently as possible, but that frequency will vary depending on what real life is like week to week. On slow weeks, there will be more stuff, on busy weeks less.  You get it.  Hopefully if you check in now and then you’ll find some new content.

I work (worked?) in a comic book shop, but as I have been recently reminded, due to the COVID-19/Coronavirus epidemic, I am non-essential.  Thanks State Government! Always good to have a self esteem boost! 

Anyway… I love comic books, reading them, talking about them, (thinking about) making them and so on. Always have, always will. I wanted to have an outlet for sharing that while I can’t be in the shop doing it face to face with customers and random strangers. 

I’ll be writing short reviews for what I’ve been reading, new stuff, old stuff, posting pics, etc.  

 Feel free to comment, but please keep it friendly. Assholery will not be tolerated.

To start with I just finished reading all of DC Comics Tales of the Dark Multiverse one shots. 

                                     I made this in MS Paint!

These started coming out in 2019 and the last one was released in early 2020. The idea behind each is Tempus Fuginaut, a sort of Watcher type character for the DCU (who I think debuted, or at least I fist remember seeing in the Sideways ongoing, a Dark Nights Metal spin off) observing the multiverse and introducing a story that takes an important moment in DC history and asks “what would have happened if things had gone differently?” DC’s version of What If?  in a nutshell.

       That’s Tempus Fuginauts big ol’ head in case you were wondering

 As the “Dark” in Tales of the Dark Multiverse might imply, these are not happy stories.

The first one shot that was released was Tales of the Dark Multiverse Batman Knightfall by Scott Snyder and Kyle Higgens with art by Javi Fernandez.  

This was probably my least favorite of the five issues. Since the “No Justice” mini series event I’m over Scott Snyder. I feel he has so many ideas rattling around in his head that he begins one story, gets too excited about the next one and leaves you underwhelmed with the current arc but dying to read the next. (That being said I of course checked out Batman Last Knight on Earth, having read his and Capullo’s entire New 52 Batman run I didn’t want to miss their “final” word on Batman, but have not read his just wrapped run on Justice League which I hear was quite good). 

I read this one right when it was released a few months ago, so my memory of it might not be the best.  

This one centers around the Knightfall event where Bane breaks Batman’s back and Jean Paul Valley/Azrael takes on the role of Batman. In this reality Bruce never recovers and Jean Paul remains Batman becoming Saint Batman, a Bats Azrael mash up. Javi Fernandez does a great job on the art and Snyder loves chopping people up. 

                                                      Gross.

Definitely worth the read if you’re interested in it or are a fan of Batman or just the Knightfall era. If you grab this series in collected format it’s not so bad that I recommend skipping it, just not my favorite from this batch of books. 

Next up is Tales of the Dark Multiverse Death of Superman by Jeff Loveness with art by Brad Walker and Andrew Hennessey. I really enjoyed this one, it was a good quick read and had a nice arc to it. One of the better issues from this series if you’re asking me.

Right after Superman dies defeating Doomsday in the Death of Superman story arc, the rest of the Justice League shows up, literally as the blood is drying.Ten seconds too late. Lois Lane blames Supes’ death on the heroes for not being there to aid him. 

She makes her way to the Fortress of Solitude and thanks to the Eradicator gets herself all the powers of Superman. She then goes about dishing out justice, with extreme prejudice, to the villains the heroes normally let the revolving doors of the DC justice system handle. This involves a couple of great scenes with Batman and Lex Luthor. Loveness nails the dialogue and the character arc he puts Lois on is great to read. 

                                  Walker and Hennesey do it again!

There’s more to this story than I’ve put here, but I don’t want to say too much and ruin your enjoyment of it if/when you read it.

Special shout out to the art team of Brad Walker and Andrew Hennessey. I feel like they don’t get enough love. They killed it on the Demon Hell is Earth mini, and from what I can tell are crushing it on Detective Comics. Dudes can draw. Spread the word!

Then we move onto Tales of the Dark Multiverse Blackest Night by Tim Seeley and Kyle Hotz. 

This one was a bit wordy, but a lot of fun! I would put this one in the middle of the pack. 

Seeley brings together an interesting bunch of characters including Sinestro, Dove, Lobo and the New Gods! The plot is a little complex, but basically after the Color Corps lose the battle against Nekron in Blackest Night, Sinestro is looking for a way to undo the damage done and becomes a pawn in Scott Free’s plot to do the same. 

Give Seeley a Lobo book or a Hawk and Dove book, or a Mister Miracle book!. He gives each character a unique voice which makes their joint travels through the plot that much more fun to read.

Kyle Hotz’s  art in this issue reminds of a 90’s Image Comic in the best possible way. Lots of detail and cool poses. I also see a lot of Bernie Wrightson in there with Hotz’s heavy use of black and the sinewy musculature of the characters. The book is worth the price of admission to see his renditions of Dove and Mister Miracle. 

                                                          kewl!

 I’m glad to see Hotz working more or just seeing more of Hotz’s work. I don’t know if he fell out of the industry after drawing the original The Hood mini for Marvel with Brian K. Vaughan, working with Eric “The Goon” Powell on Billy the Kid’s Old Timey Odditys, doing art on Carnage Mind Bomb and more I’m sure ( I just can’t remember it all), or I just wasn’t paying attention to what he was working on. If it’s the later, shame on me, if it’s the former, welcome back Mr. Hotz, you’re crushing it and I look forward to seeing more from you. Check out more Kyle Hotz work by following him on Instagram @kylehotzcomics.

Let’s not neglect the oft overlooked inkers! I’m not sure who inked what, but on a guess, Dexter Vines and Walden Wong brought a smooth, cleanness to the proceedings with lots of nicely tapered lines. Again just guessing here, because I don’t know for sure, but Danny Miki used a finer line bringing a scratchy-ness the others didn’t but also amazing detail and clarity on some of the portraiture in the later half of the book. 

Who’s next? Why it’s Tales of the Dark Multiverse Infinite Crisis!

This one may have been my favorite. When the original Infinite Crisis series came out it was a period  where, due to personal lack of enjoyment, I wasn’t reading much of DC’s output, but I did read the Countdown to Infinite Crisis one shot this issue takes as it’s jumping off point. After having read this issue, it makes me want to go back and read Infinite Crisis. I would say that’s the sign of a good issue.

In this alternate reality Blue Beetle, Ted Kord, kills Maxwell Lord instead of vice versa, making himself the head of Checkmate. He then goes about trying to prevent the coming crisis. It’s kind of a tale about absolute power corrupting absolutely, it’s also an underdog tale about getting in over your head.

                Sorry if these images aren’t the best, I’m new at this!

James Tynion IV does a great job catching you up on any old DC continuity plot points you may have forgotten or never knew about in the first place.If you’re reading Tynion’s current run on Batman, or his work on Detective Comics and Justice League Dark, you know he can handle a complex plot like this and does a great job condensing it all down to a single issue.  Aaron Lopresti and Matt Ryan handle the art and they do a great job. Always happy to see Lopresti’s name on a book I want to read.

Bonus points: You can never have too many Ted Kord, Blue Beetle comics, especially when Booster Gold pops up, even if only momentarily. 

If this series leaves you wanting more Blue and Gold action may I direct you to Booster Gold (2nd series) #32 thru about 38ish for some quality comics.

Final one, Tales from the Dark Multiverse the Judas Contract!

I’m not as old as my writing may imply so I had to read the Judas Contract in collected format about 20 years after it was originally released and after having seen it on many a fanzine’s (Wizard) best of list.  When I finally got to read it I wasn’t super familiar with the Titans of the era and already knew the big twist in the story, so it just washed over me without any great effect. None of the shock that someone who was reading it fresh in the 80’s might have experienced. 

I ended up liking this twisted take on the Judas Contract much more than when I read the original. “Sacrilege!” I know, I know, but like I said there was no surprise when I first read it, while this one zigged instead of zagging multiple times and kept upping the ante in scale. 

Kyle Higgins and Matt Groom do a great job reinventing a classic that I’m sure many people had high expectations for. This was a fun faced paced tale.  I enjoyed the hero moments Dick Grayson and Wally West were given. Like the Knightfall one shot Higgins co-wrote with Snyder there’s no shortage of dismemberment and disfiguration, which is neither a plus or minus in this situation, just thought it was worth noting.

Tom Raney handles the art chores here and he does a fine job.  Some of the figures seem a little squat, and their heads are too big in certain panels. Could I do better? No, so who am I to say anything? I just noticed it, here and there, it took me out of the flow of the story every now and then. That’s all. Big fan of his work on Stormwatch and Outsiders with Judd Winick. I also hear he’s super nice, so if you’re ever at a convention where Tom Raney is, seek him out! 

                                      They seem squat, right?

It’s worth mentioning these books are all done in DC’s prestige format and are extra long at about 48 pages each. All covers are by the fantastic Lee Weeks. A nice way to spend the afternoon.

There’s the first post. A little longer than I thought it would be. If you made it this far, I hope it was clear and you understood what I was saying and I hope you liked it and want to return for more. 

Until next time!

[kaiju-z]

Today’s summary is of a One-Shot DM’d by the lovely @langstymclangstface​. Go visit their page and give them some love, for they are a talented writer and we had a hellaciously fun time playing this one shot together!

Seon Adventures Episode 20.5:  “Crumbling Wax”, a Seon Adventures Halloween One-Shot

(Aka Nelatha’s Coochie Quest. The sequel title no one asked for :eyesemoji:)

It has been. A short while since our heroes have been in the city of Crystalgate, Capitol of the country of Aetorumia.

A costume festival is being held, bright and shining lights illuminating the night time sky above the wandering citizens as they pass by booths and tables of contents, finding entertainment for themselves and their loved ones.

Each and every one has made it their goal to wear a costume as ostentatious as the next, a sort of challenge between each other to see who can be the most in the spirit of the event.

High spirits are in the air, in spite of a problem that has arisen for everyone. Or most of everyone. A sickness has hit a substantial part of the populace and thus, people are using this evening as a gateaway from the bad vibes of their relatives being down for the count.

Some call it the end of the world, but they’re honestly being overdramatic dramatic.

Amongst the walkers of this town, there are four of the five members of the party “The Cultbusters”. Sadly, Belli is at home (I headcanon that Mournimar left Morgan with her, as we didn’t get a description of Morgan’s costume. So the good direwolf is there to be her comfort animal, along with familiar, Orion.) and she is siiiiiick. And thus, she is locked off at home, as are all that have been hit by this flu.

The rest of the party are lucky.

And the rest of the party are dressed up to their heart’s content!

Amelia wears the proud costume of a sea corsair. A daring, romanticized fersion of a pirate, with Archie as her fat little shoulder griffin, a pair of wings strapped to the chunky, hunky kitty’s back, a little beak on his face. He’s living his best life and loves his catmom.

Walking beside her, Nelatha Shadowspire’s joined the group yet again. Accompanying her lady friend Genasi, she is wearing a sexed up version of a Cleric’s uniform. Particularly, that of a Honos cleric. (She is basically a fantasy sexy nurse) And she is confident as hell in that outfit. She makes it work and she knows it.

Flanking them is Mournimar, who, while initially planning some other attire, has opted for the costume of a favored character of his from a classical play. He wears the rags of the infamous drug dealer, tomb raider, bard and poet, the Graverobber. And he is blue screening real bad on account of not being used to such festivities. With Belli on the sick bed, he is but inchest away from touching shoulders with his fellow tiefling.

He, of double disguises. Who, along with the elf baby have dressed up as the characters of Fangface and Fangpuss respectively. They are goofy outfits, but Luctan is having a ball with it, enjoying the cartoonishness of it all and the hilarity that he, someone already in disguise, is wearing a third skin now. And the baby is baby. He don’t care none.

Last, but far, far from least, Malak walks with his new traveling companions, wearing a skeleton costume. A onesie, his face painted up to appear skullish.

Together the five, plus the baby and cat, walk amongst the people as streamers fly overhead. People dance and play and drink to their heart’s content. In a various level of dress.

What catches their attention is that amongst the chaos there’s a man selling candles. A sign upon his booth states the title “The Candle Man”, as their noses are attracted by multitude of scents from these particular ones.

The closer they walk, the musical tunes of The Living Tombstone’s “Spooky Scary Skeletons” hail in repetition, much to the frustration and disguist of Nel, who’s bardic pride feels poked at with the ridicilousness of that tune.

Along the way to the Candle Man’s booth, Malak’s eye stops at a nice old fashioned game of bobbing for apples. His curiosity overtaking him, the human man gives it a go and dunks his head in the water, trying to be as dexterous as he can with his chompers.

He tries his best. Swinging his head left, right, center. Up and down, trying his damnedest to nab one of the apples. But alas, he fails at the task. From the outside perspective, someone has to walk on over to him and pull him out and back, as the Death Cleric looked like he was drowning.

Trying to give it a go himself, Mournimar enters the “battlefield” of fruit and preps to dive headfirst (as you do). Malak is the ever helpful man he is and places a hand on Mournimar’s shoulder for encouragement, casting Guidance on him.

Through a combination of the ranger’s skill in handling items and the Cleric’s holy magic, the tiefling nabs an apple. But not just your regular Granny Smith’s apple! This one is of a golden color.

“Congratulations, you won the grand prise!”

He is the victor of the game and earns himself a bag of candies from the vendor, a kind lady speaking in her best Applecore accent.

“Excellent!” exclaims Mournimar and offers the bag around. But be it because of a distate in sweets or a lack of hunger, he is left to feast on the candies himself. All the more for himself!

As they continue on, they pass by a number of establishments. From new age bars, to meat houses.  Bakeries and the like, all theming their foods after the holiday that has been bestowed upon the masses, with skulls and pumpkins and bats and all sorts of crawlies.

Luctan asks around about the sickness. Most people suggest it’s a cold time of year, so it’s normal. There are a couple of people out of town, panicking a bit regarding a pandemic. Performers say they’ve lost a hood half of their act, because of this. Lost their voices and shit.

Mourni’s type of Orc walking around, basically looks him up and down, shakes his head and says they tried, but shit didn’t work

A fire genasi performs a juggling act with flaming knives nearby. Luctan, being the boy, who loves his pointy things that he is, goes for a closer watch of the show. The Genasi man waves at Luctan, between throws and tosses and twirls and spins of the burning blades.

Impressed with the performance, Luctan gives a gold piece and a bunch more Fire Genasi come out, juggling. Despite that they are very excited to perform for him and stuff, they haven’t said a single thing. To Luctan, it appears that they are just very dedicated to their craft. And he appreciates that.

(He loves a man, who can handle a blade. Somewhere Ficus has himbs a sneeze, probably.)

Nel is not amused. Why? Aside from the juggling, her resting witch face is earned from seeing Amelia approach a pet store, where they have cats dressed in little costumes.

And you can pet said cats.

Set up as advertisements and stuff. You can buy treats themed for each cat.

She picks up the quiet mewing of kittens from the back of the room, where people pay to have kittens crawl and paw over them.

While Malak enjoys a variety of Pumpkin Spice Lattés (And there are so MANY Pumpkin Spice Lattés) Amelia goes to the cats. There’s a nice lady holding two fat cats. And she gets to pet some cats. Lennard and Harry. They were married and had a ceremony last week and the kittens are in the back.

Amelia is tearing up. This is the best day of her life.

Good work is being done for these cats. She is warned about a certain cat boi who jumps on people and demands cuddles.  Amelia seems to be prepared for this. Heavy is the ribcage that must contain so much love for felines.

Out of nowhere  areally fat Scottish fold jumps and descends on her, which causes Nel to scream a loud screm.

In response,  The cat looks at Nel and bleps.

This is the happiest day in Amelia’s life.

Cats are available for adoption.

With the cat on her head and the two in her arms, as well as Archie on her shoulders, she is virtually in cat heavan. If this is a dream, don’t let her wake up.

All the while, Malak gets free gingerbread with every latté. (Nel feels like the world’ll collapse around her over all the coffee.)

Eventually, with cats in tow, the party find themselves at the Candle Man’s store.

One very bored teenager fiddling with a candle. He looks like he can’t be bothered. As they get closer to inspect them, each one looks like a person. They seem to be made expertly, made in order of famous people, but they don’t recognize any of them.

Except for one.

Luctan vaguely recognizes one of the figures as the dancer!Zitra! But something seems off about it, like it was done in a hurry. Almost like someone wasn’t used to this, as opposed to the expert.

The young one explains that  the candlemaker’s sick, so the kid had to rush ‘em.  Luctan buys one of the Lady Zitra and an unknown dude.  Then hands the young salesperson a pamphlet and encouraging words. He believes that they can do better!

Curious, Malak wants a candle made of him. But gets the strange explanation that a personal hairstrand is required for the wick. And backs off immediatelly.

Luctan and Mournimar have no idea what this is about. To Nel there seems to be more than he’s letting on. Sinister vibe coming off of him.

She’s noticed he hasn’t’blinked once since they met him, but a few minutes prior.

He’s very cagey about what his general job is, as opposed to the summer job.

It’s mostly, you know, ehm, bar keeping and cleaning.

At the Busty Wench. The one in town.

Nel doesn’t remember a franchise opening here.

On these revelations, the shadyness of the character, if Malak hadn’t changed his mind before, he most certainly had now.

Malak casts Zone of Truth.

The moment he casts the spell, something odd happens. No. Something horrid happens. The ground begins to melt.

All around them? Everyone starts melting as blobs of flesh and clothes and then they realize they’re surrounded by wax, which starts to pull and move towards the stand, which is slowly changing form until they start in front of a vague humanoid figure twice of Mournimar’s height.

Yeah...

The sign is very litteral.

Much to Amelia’s horror, all cats, but Archie, begin to melt. Gordon and Harry and the one on her head crumble and fuse and melt off and down to the ground below. Even the cats were fake.

The wax man has a big as smile. Whatever he is. the party had never heard of it before.

As he says that, he rises into the air and drops down and suddenly everything is melting into wax, white and overpowering scent of burning candle and the floor is disappearing beneath everyone’s feet.

BOGUS!”, to say the least.

Thinking fast,  Nel uses Polymorph and changes into a giant eagle and grabs Amelia and Archie to move them to safety. Once in the air, she looks out into the horizon and in a perfect circle? She sees that the city is surrounded by a desert. And slowly-an-and- and melting?!

Malak is noticing that the fire jugglers, who but moments prior were catching and throwing burning blades, were now sleeping and drowning in wax.

He tries to save them, but isn’t strong enough to do a thng about all this.

From what the lot of the ‘busters can gather, apparently the sick people are the real ones. And they are sinking.

Wasting no further time, the rest of the party start climbing.

Arriving at the top, they see that the area they started from? There’s this vast and expanding black hole, going outwards. Up top, Luctan has a vague feeling that something isnt’real here, but there’s so much magic surrounding him, he cant’pinpoint what the illusion is.

All the while Mournimar strategizes with the polymorphed Nelatha.

Malak takes a notice that the hair sticking out of the wax candles is still there and he realizes that the figurines at the stall are left completely in tact.

Luck realizes that some of the people he tried pulling out had wax figurines.

The ones he was shown were selected so he wouldn’t recognize them. It is by mere chance that they had met the Lady herself. And thus, he acts upon a gut feeling.  He removes the hairstring and the figurine cracks, before beginning a climb down to the candle booth. To repeat that on a grander level. And Mournimar follows, in spite of Luctan’s protests.

Nel is tasked with carrying the others away.

(And here we have a bit of a 2-3 minute break, because Cat’s mic was off for a good while. Because her kitten, the Little Man/Little Bastard as she calls him had turned it off. It was the funniest thing ever.)

As they part ways, Amelia casts Levitate on Luctan. Yell heah!

As Luck flies, he remembers he left Belli asleep in the Shadowspire Manor, which from his perspective, begins to melt. Cursing under his breath, he takes the figurines with a box and removes the hairs on the way to Belli’s as Mournimar sprints after him.

As they move, Mourni notices Luctan’s in tiefling form. And has a tail?!

The levitation drops eventually and Luctan falls on the ground. As he turns around, he sees he’s been chased by a fellow tiefling, but it’s not someone he recognizes.

Nel turns in her normal form forcibly as they travel and they are surrounded by strangers. Making her 3 point landing, Amelia notices a bird turning into a humanoid form and sadly doesn’t recognize Nel.

Everyone’s... surrounded by strangers.

A figure about Amelia’s height rises from the wax and says “Hello there, don’t be frightened. You’ve been saved.”

Luck see this form as well, but it’s smaller and childlike and feels an eerie sense of calm.

Mournimar, unfortunately, fails on a wisdom save and “ knows everything’ll be alright”.

As he realizes this, his features starts melting off, until Mourni is gone, replaced with a lump of wax.

Seeing all this madness happening around him, Malak casts Protection of Good and Evil and protects himself.

Luck feels Danger as he sees that someone start melting, which causes him to have... the freaks out. It’s this reason why he probably only too late notices he has his tail back?!

Feeling threatened by this wax fhild,  Luctan casts Sacred Flame, which burns a hole through the child’s chest. Not falling for whatever niceties the child propheces, the red tiefling burst into a dash towards Belli’s location.

Mournimar is ordered to attack Luctan. And he does so, chasing after him, unsheathing the swords from his hips and attacking.  All the while this big lump of wax follows along as the floor seems to start to swallow him.

Luctan gets attacked and the seering pain feels like fire. Looking at the wound inflicted by the possessed Mournimar, he realizes he’s made of wax. Out of anxiety and rage and frustration and pain, he goes on to react with a Hellish Punishment at his attacker and melts Mournimar?!

(BEGONE, TIEF!)

Malak makes an attack, casting Litch Slap on the monstrous child. He hadn’t prepared any combat spells, but at the very least he had this.

Chunks fly and hit Amelia and Nel and reveal wax underneath.

Nel bounces. Not recognizing anyone, she has no reason to be here.

The thing goes after Malak.

Amelia bounces as well.

She takes two steps, before  a hand reaches out from the ground and grabs her, squeezing and burning.

With a strength, unmatched and one powerful crushing motion, Amelia’s head pops off. And she poofs out of existence.

Malak attacks with his axe and that has no effect. As Nel runs, tendrils are grabbing at her feet. “Nope-nope-nope-nope-nope.”

One successful tendril  grabs and pulls her down.

Nel feels herself being pulled down into the wax and it pours down into the ground. She suffocates and no longer is within this realm of existence.

The tendrils go after Luctan, shifting into vicious spikes, but melt behind him, due to him perpetually casting Prestidigitation, applying sparks in the viscinity aorund him.

.He carries on like this, until the sensation of emptyness under him catches his attention.

And he starts falling.

And falling.

And. While still dressed in the Fangface costume, he tries to concentrate on hsi wings. Figuring he could create them at this point, he does so. Wax versions of his wings shape from his shoulderblades. And for a short moment, he manages to fly up.

Until the wings break apart.

And he starts falling yet again.

As spikes portrude from around him and impale him, taking him out as well.

And then there’s Malak.

“ I’m the last survivor, you guys.”

The kid begins to clap with a wicked smile and congratulates him.

Then we all open our eyes. Peppery Pete stands over us as we wake up.

Basically. What it comes down to, as we catch our bearings and get up, is that Pete explains Belli hired Pete to drug us with some strange drug.

It was whack.

The party are not amused. Nel is confused.

They just stand there. Being menacing.

Malak takes a knee and rests a hand on Pete’s shoulder.

“Look, mistakes happen.”

“ But if you ever do this to us or anyone again, I will personally sever your soul from your body.”

Pete is. To say the least. Terrified from the death glare.

And Amelia basically realizes that Pete is bullshitting them and Belli had nothing to do with this. It was meant to be a team building exercise.

“Yeah, but why am I here, though?!” - Nel’s still confused.

FIN!

Previous episode / Next episode

[newstfionline]

Parenting the Instagram generation

Michael B. Farrell, Jessica Mendoza, CS Monitor, August 13, 2017

MOUNTAIN VIEW, CALIF.--Jake Lee, a tanned California teenager in baggy shorts and a T-shirt, is lounging on the floor of his parents’ midcentury home. They live in a suburban Silicon Valley enclave of tech workers, cyber-savvy kids, and the occasional Google self-driving car that whirs past along pristine, eucalyptus-lined streets. He flicks through his iPhone, his fingers moving with the speed and dexterity of a jazz pianist, as he answers the sporadic text message.

“I’m on social media every waking moment of my life,” he says, with no particular pride. “I could be, like, Snapchatting and Instagram messaging the same person at the same time.”

Equidistant between the headquarters of Apple and Facebook, two of the world’s biggest tech companies, the Lee household is something of a petri dish for the way technology has altered American family life. Since it debuted the device a decade ago, Apple has sold more than 1.2 billion iPhones.

Facebook reached the mark of 2 billion users per month in June. Together, both companies have shaped an entire generation of young people tethered to their devices.

The three Lee teens--Jake, age 18; Sydney, 16; and Maddi, 13--all have iPhones. They consume a steady diet of social media. Selfies, hashtags, emojis, YouTube celebrities, and memes fill their days and nights. They’re admitted jocks--water polo and soccer players--so they have only so much time to stare at screens. But it’s still a big part of their lives.

Maddi sticks mostly to Instagram, the photo-sharing app. “Facebook is for old people,” she says. Sydney has 574 Instagram followers but says she’s not as obsessed as many of her friends. She prefers Snapchat, the popular image messaging app, because “that’s just where all my friends are.” In addition to Instagram, Jake had a brief flirtation with the dating app Tinder. This ended when his mom made him delete it.

Like most kids, they’ve had missteps. Jake sheepishly admits to getting in trouble for saying things he shouldn’t have--usually to girls or while joking with friends. There was the time Sydney posted a photo of herself on Instagram in a sports bra. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time; after all, she’s a swimmer and lifeguard. But drama ensued. One of Jake’s friends noticed and sent him the photo, saying, “Oh, dude, look at what your sister sent me!” It became a thing. “She was humiliated and cried,” says Vickie Lee, the Lee teens’ mom, who perpetually lectures her kids on the potential hazards of social media.

Earlier this year, she hosted a parents’ class on technology and safety at Maddi’s Los Altos, Calif., charter school. She’s keenly aware that a wrong move--a misguided text, an inappropriate photo, a harmful or angry chat--can have devastating consequences. These days, she says, “technology is part of your sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll talk you have with your kids.”

Her big concern is that there’s no delete button once something goes out on social media. An embarrassing picture can haunt a teen for what might seem like a lifetime. “There are times in your life when you want to redefine yourself,” she says. “And with social media, you can’t redefine yourself. Your past just follows you around.”

Vickie and her husband, Jody, are trying to do what most parents in the United States--and perhaps the world--are trying to do: raise their kids responsibly in the era of Snapchat and Instagram. Can it be done--can kids today be persuaded to actually talk rather than text? Can they be encouraged to let go of the virtual world--occasionally--and engage in the real one? Can they stop posting selfies long enough--please!--to think of someone else?

The answer is yes. But there are bound to be some anxious moments for parents along the way, and teens have a few things to say about what grown-ups don’t get.

Today, getting a smartphone is a rite of passage for American tweens and teens. It’s arguably more important to them than having a driver’s license or voting (50 percent of eligible Americans between ages 18 and 29 voted in November 2016, while 98 percent of people in the US between 18 and 24 own smartphones).

Signing up for Instagram, which is owned by Facebook, is another milestone. It’s often the beginning of kids’ digital self-expression, and the way they stay connected with friends. Downloading Snapchat, the wildly popular app that lets users exchange messages and images that self-destruct within seconds, is the digital equivalent of the first date--that moment of freedom when kids begin a life without parents listening in.

Those two apps are now the most popular among teens. Seventy-six percent of Americans ages 13 to 17 use Instagram and 75 percent use Snapchat, according to a recent poll from The Associated Press-NORC Center for Public Affairs Research. But the ubiquity of social media doesn’t mean kids begin their digital journey knowing how to navigate the complexities of constant connectivity. There’s no guidebook. There are often few limits. Social media doesn’t come with training wheels--for kids or parents.

As a result, sometimes kids get it right and sometimes wrong. Really wrong.

The news is full of troubling stories about teens and technology. In July, reports surfaced about a mysterious online game called the Blue Whale Challenge in which several apparent participants killed themselves, some broadcasting their suicides online. Across the country, police have busted up groups of middle-schoolers swapping nude photos of underage female classmates. Intense cases of cyberbullying have led to victims taking their own lives. And the web is often especially cruel to young girls, subjecting them to sexism, misogyny, and harassment.

In her book “American Girls: Social Media and the Secret Lives of Teenagers,” Vanity Fair writer Nancy Jo Sales describes the dark side of the digital world. “The culture of social media churns away, seeming to pay very little attention, so far, to the protestations of feminists or anyone who objects to its troubling aspects. And girls suffer. On a daily, sometimes hourly basis on their phones, they encounter things which are offensive and potentially damaging to their well-being and sense of self-esteem.”

All of that’s deeply disturbing. But even though the troubling parts of digital life garner the most media attention, causing panic among parents, it’s not what’s happening on most kids’ devices. Teens will more likely see smiling or goofy selfies, an endless string of heart emojis, or some funny or banal comment. Even though it’s through a filter of technology, which can seem more like an appendage than an appliance, the connections kids seek are deeply human and normal, say experts. Researchers, for instance, talk about the psychological boost kids get when they receive “likes” on their posts and photos.

“There’s a culture of wanting to say nice things online,” says Mia Freund Walker, a family therapist in Redwood City, Calif., and the former executive director of My Digital TAT2, a group formed in 2012 that works with teens on developing responsible digital habits.

For most teens, technology has become so omnipresent that there’s no separating digital life from real life. It’s all intertwined. In many ways, Rose Beardmore’s Instagram is typical of a lot of other kids’. It’s full of smiling friends, flowers, clouds, purple night skies, and the beach. The comments on her 29 posts are punctuated with hearts, smiley faces, and compliments.

“THIS IS SO CUTE,” wrote one of her friends. Most are of this variety: “THIS PHOTO IS GREAT .” For Rose, a 14-year-old from Lunenburg, Mass., Instagram is the idealized version of herself. She limits it to “all my photos that look good.”

Like many other teenage girls, she maintains another account just for her closest friends, known as a “fake Instagram” or “finsta.” That’s where “I update people. I post pictures that aren’t that pretty,” she says. It includes sillier or more candid shots. “The real [Instagram account] is a lot more manicured. It’s not the mirror image of the person who owns it; it’s the prettier twin.”

It’s not uncommon for girls to begin cultivating or shaping their identities this way. On social media, they can decide what kind of image they portray to different communities. “You can curate this perfected image of yourself,” says Havi Wolfson Hall, a clinical social worker and therapist in Palo Alto, Calif. “We always want to present our best selves.” Technology just accelerates that basic human desire, she says, making it happen at a rapid speed and on an astonishing scale.

Inside her office at Parents Place, part of Jewish Family and Children’s Services, a poster asks kids: “How are you feeling today?” The choices come in yellow emoji faces--happy, sad, embarrassed, silly. Ms. Hall operates in an upscale part of the city--around the corner from private preschools, a Pilates studio and spa, and a Whole Foods. Many of the families she treats work in the tech sector across Silicon Valley.

Of course, some of them are building the very devices that get kids and adults hooked on screens to begin with. Yet they are worried about the lasting effects of technology on their children, too. The late Apple chief executive officer Steve Jobs once told a New York Times reporter that his kids hadn’t used an iPad. “We limit how much technology our kids use at home.” But all too often, Hall says, parents who complain that their kids are addicted to social media have trouble controlling their own technology use. “Nine out of 10 times, the kids are learning from their parents,” she says.

The tech industry has become incredibly adept at figuring out how to keep kids using their products. Companies such as Facebook and Snapchat are well aware that young people are naturally wired to share, seeking validation from friends in the form of “likes” and comments.

According to Common Sense Media, a nonprofit that aims to help guide kids and parents through today’s media landscape, the average teen spends nine hours a day consuming media for enjoyment, most of which is on a screen. And tweens (ages 8 to 12) use media almost seven hours a day.

The power inherent in the industry was on full display recently at VidCon, a glitzy five-day conference in Anaheim, Calif., that brought together many of the world’s biggest tech companies and the most recognizable figures on social media. “Influencers,” as they’re known in industry-speak, may only be internet famous but they are a powerful lure to keep kids staring at their screens. VidCon was full of tweens and teens eager to see their favorite internet celebrities.

Amel and Abby, both age 15, from Pasadena and Glendale, Calif., respectively, wanted to see YouTube personalities Joey Graceffa (a longtime video blogger and reality TV star with 7.9 million YouTube subscribers) and Liza Koshy (an actress with 10.3 million subscribers). The video-sharing site has become a powerful cultural force among teens. Ninety-six percent of teenagers use the platform, according to the AP-NORC poll, and 78 percent said they visited YouTube at least once a day.

“I either follow celebrities or YouTube celebrities or friends,” says Abby, pulling out her phone to display her Instagram profile. “I don’t usually follow strangers; I feel like there’s no point and it’s kind of weird.”

Amel follows “idols, celebrities, my friends. I also follow people who inspire body empowerment, who send a message of just ‘love your body, no matter what.’ “ They’re both regularly on YouTube, Instagram, and Snapchat.

“Sure, I’ll get mad if someone unfollows me,” says Amel. “Like, what? Why did you unfollow me?” But, she says, she doesn’t start “crying on the floor” if it happens.

The culture of online celebrity has also spawned a growing number of otherwise average--and nonfamous--families who have essentially taken to filming much of their daily lives and posting it to YouTube. These so-called vloggers are vying for celebrity status on the web, and the advertising dollars that can come from amassing millions of subscribers. The 12 top-earning YouTube stars of 2016 collected a total of more than $70 million.

Presley Alexander, age 12, and her dad, Brian, launched their YouTube channel ActOutGames in 2012. Today, they have more than 20,000 subscribers. To date, they’ve posted a video every day for four straight years. On vacation once at the Great Sand Dunes National Park & Preserve in Colorado, Mr. Alexander drove 45 minutes to get a cellphone signal.

Posting your family’s life on the web for the world to see--and comment on--may seem extreme to many people, but Brian says it doesn’t mean he’s a lenient parent. “I’m that dad who’ll read her Skype sometimes,” he says. “I’ll listen to her conversations, and if she’s saying something weird I’ll be like, ‘Hey, what are you talking about?’

“We are super involved and pay attention to what’s happening,” he notes. “Just because we’re on there doesn’t mean that we’ve ceded this ground.”

Indeed, experts say there are many different ways to be a good digital parent. The key, says Amanda Lenhart, a senior research scientist for AP-NORC who co-wrote the report on kids and social media, is to remember that it’s not “about the technology. It has to be about the values and baseline levels of respect.”

Some parents take a stricter approach in reining in their kids. Aaron Turner of Idaho Falls, Idaho, lets his two teenage daughters, Abby and Katy, use Instagram, but he keeps a close eye on their accounts.

Mr. Turner is a mobile phone security expert. In other words, he knows how to hack smartphones. He uses his knowhow to eavesdrop on whatever his daughters are doing on their phones. If they download an app that’s not allowed--he’s outlawed Snapchat--he’ll know about it.

“My clear message to my daughters that I’m watching their feeds and looking at their private content has served as a protection to them,” says Turner. “When boys start a conversation that may be heading the wrong direction, they just tell them, ‘My dad looks at this,’ and that nips stuff in the bud.”

There was the time, though, that Abby got curious about Snapchat. “I just downloaded it because my friends were using it,” she says. “Everyone has Snapchat.”

It didn’t stay on her phone long. Her dad quickly noticed and deleted it.

Still, Turner is a big believer in the power of social media. He travels a lot for his computer security work and it helps him stay connected with his family. And even he admits you can’t control what kids will do or say--or see--on social media.

“In this new world, there’s no such thing as control. There’s coaching, and there’s monitoring,” he says. “If you’ve raised good kids this is not an issue. Technology does not change your standards and values.”

Other parents place a premium on talking to their kids about social media rather than curtailing their use of devices and apps. The Lees of Silicon Valley, for instance, don’t have rules about having iPhones at the dinner table. Their approach is to make the kinds of conversations they have on their devices part of their normal family conversations at home, in the car going to swim practice, or while they’re on vacation. They prioritize openness about social media over erecting a virtual fence.

But there may be limits to how much their kids will share with them. Jake will be starting college this fall at Purdue University in West Lafayette, Ind. He’s already told his mom they won’t be friends on Snapchat. Now that he’s about to become a college freshman, it’s not the place for talking to moms, he told her.

Jake’s declaration of independence points up another truism about social media use: At some point, kids have to decide for themselves where to draw the digital line.

Some are already pulling back from total immersion. In her most recent research, Ms. Lenhart found that at least 58 percent of teens who use social media were curtailing their time online, in part because of parental strictures but also because they simply wanted a break.

Those findings reflect what the founders of My Digital TAT2 have seen, too. “They’ll have tech-free zones,” says Gloria Mosko­witz-Sweet, a licensed social worker and one of the cofounders of the group. “We are seeing kids come up with their own rules and regulations.”

Still, when you talk to teens, almost all dispute their parents’ assumptions that social media has become their entire world in the first place. They chafe at the assertion that teens prefer digital connections to personal ones. For instance, Rose, the 14-year-old from Massachusetts, says she’s constantly chatting with her friends about hanging out #IRL (in real life). “We’ll keep saying, ‘I can’t wait to see you. To hug you.’ We like face-to-face communication more,” she says. “[Parents] tend to think that the importance of [social media] in our lives is inherently a bad thing. It’s called social media for a reason.”

After Ms. Sales’s book on girls and social media came out in 2016, alarming parents nationwide, Ms. Moskowitz-Sweet co-wrote a piece in the San Francisco Chronicle that aimed to counter that fear. “Our kids are living out loud in a digital culture,” she wrote. “Social media naturally heightens the challenges associated with adolescence. Teens are telling us they want parents to trust their use of social media and give them freedom to explore, take risks, and make mistakes.”

Dangers do exist online, of course. But experts say the key is not to overreact and place too many restrictions on technology. It’s far better to understand social media and how children are actually using it. As John Palfrey and Urs Gasser put it in their book, “Born Digital: How Children Grow Up in a Digital Age”:

“[As] a culture of fear emerges around the online environment, we must put these real threats into perspective; our children and future generations have tremendous opportunities in store for them, and not in spite of the digital age, but because of it.”