#the railways series

[eat-a-dicker]

i feel like i could rewrite the whole ass worker strike saga from the railways series to not shit on workers who want rights while also not changing any of the story beats from the original. i have ideas

[charseraph]

My trainsona, an RC body of my sapient AI persona, Charsoft.

A high-speed electric multiple unit (EMU) with a LiDAR and camera array. The cartoon eyes are not Charsoft’s, they are a separate BOAtic intelligence inhabiting the machine itself.

[sirhandelkinnie]

Thomas fun fact: In Rodborough (the village that Awdry retired to in the 1960s) in the church there is a stained glass window of Thomas and Awdry!

[theflyingkipper]

A redo of my Edwards Exploit drawing from ages ago, now in traditional mixed media!

I felt like I didn't capture the mood I wanted last time when I looked it over again (to the horror of everyone who got to see this early. Thank you for gassing up the old one, and keeping me motivated through the making of this)

this version is much more directly studied off the Peter and Gunvor Edwards' illustration, because I've grown into the opinion that the model adaptation of exploit was really weak (technical limitations!!! what a shame) and i want to get back into studying these illustrations, there's a lot to pick apart in them.

Here's a bunch of perspective lines i drew over it when I was sketching. (I don't normally do that when I redraw, but that's usually because I'm drawing from model era screencaps and I can rely on those being proportional, most of the time) Edwards face breaks perspective here just a bit to add more drama to the scene, everything else is proportional.

some in-progress pictures, during which I absolutely HATED how it looked and wanted to switch to digital because I feared I'd messed it up irreconcilably 😭 good thing I was able to look at it with fresh eyes after staring at it for like four hours, the first session of drawing ended at 1am. Believe me, if you hate how your drawing is turning out, put it down and come back to it later!!

Edward is also more referenced off a real K2 here because I really like how they look. Unfortunately they have painful geometry.

something frustrating about my traditional drawings is how they can't be viewed from multiple angles online. I use silver gel pen to highlight some parts (here it's Edward's handrails and the damage) but it doesn't show up well when I photograph it head on. I hope this picture shows a little bit of how it shows up in real life!

(if you can't see, look at the bottom of Edward's boiler bands)

Hopefully you enjoyed reading under the cut :] I like explaining my process and I appreciate it immensely when someone shares my enthusiasm for it.

[seaswine]

"We've no money to mend you... to the back of the shed you'll go"

[chiaknight]

a reminder that

• the Rev Awdry named Mavis after his neighbor

• Daisy and Mavis were the only diesels to have a redemption arc

• Daisy was the first diesel owned by the NWR, and the first diesel to not be prejudiced against steam engines (every female diesel would follow this trend)

• Chris Awdry chose a pair of female diesels to succeed Gordon

• despite both Daisy and Mavis undergoing similar character development, they are unique in personality. They are also friends and don't try to undercut one another

• Annie and Clarabel are written as more sensible than Thomas, the Skarloey coaches are written as unruly and mischievous to their engines, and Henrietta is written as Toby's equal (character diversity)

• the Rev Awdry's wife is the whole reason we have the books, and ergo, the TVS

The man never cared about gender. He cared about good characters.

[edwards-exploit]

Faces! Faces!!

[ladychandraofthemoone]

Saw this meme going on about and had to join in, it fits them so well

Bonus: some alternative rws Duncan pic icon concepts & the og:

[todayintokyo]

Happy 60th birthday to a legend! The Tōkaidō Shinkansen began service on 1 October 1964, using the 0 Series pictured above. I took the photo in the National Railway Museum in York, England. It's the only shinkansen outside Japan.

[pompcoco]

Rough comp + thumbnail of Edward’s Exploit for a illustration project for school! (Assignment is creating a movie poster for any media and making it in Illustrator)

[steam-beasts]

POV; You recieve a book in the mail of the first ever RWS book. Once you set it on your table, these three start crawling out.

Meet Eddie, Gordie and Hen-Hen.

[maxwellscorner]

ℭ𝔥𝔦𝔠𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔣 𝔈𝔫𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔢

Finally made a piece showing my High Fantasy version of a locomotive, the drawf mine hard worker and old faithful Chico 🖤

I wanted to give him a mixture of the first designs of trains in a raw metal look with bronze detailing to create something almost functional with a whimsical touch, as if he just came from a DnD creature handbook

He's completely automonomous and only depends on his dwarf co-workers to refil his tender, he works in coal mines and isn't used to the outside world, has seen very few other engines during his life and has a lovely grumpy personality. He has taught the other mine engines how to work and is always keeping an eye on everything, even helping the younger humanoid workers as much as he can

[charseraph]

[13o7billionyearsinthemaking]

Tidmouth Runaway

It's The Railway Series 79th Anniversary

Probably the most biblically accurate version of them, even having their correct wheel arrangements

[thomasbeyond]

Happy (belated) Free Comic Boom Day, everyone! 🎉

Here’s the final cover for Thomas: Beyond! #1, “Station Pilot”. As I previously mentioned, I planned to get the issue out by last Saturday, but I wasn’t able to complete it in time. I’m not sure when it’ll be ready, but stay tuned, as I’m still actively working on it!

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 14 - Screech

Before Sodor:

When he came out of the works, James was a very different engine to the one who went in. The regular, boring, utilitarian Class 28 who had been pushed in was gone, and out came a prototype. Hughes classified James as a ‘Class 29’.

“You’re a very special engine,” Mr Hughes said, watching on as James was fired for the first time. “I’m hoping your rebuild will bring all the successes I am hoping for.” That made James feel very special. He’d been plucked at random from his shed for the overhaul, chosen from in amongst a group of twelve of his class, as well as another six Class 27s who’d been doing their absolute best to be picked. But it had been James; of all the engines on the entire railway, it had been James.

“I’ll do you proud, sir!” chirped James excitedly. Mr Hughes smiled gently, and stepped to one side to continue to watch the proceedings. James was carefully steamed up, his slightly larger boiler warming quickly. Every part of him felt new and precision machined. His firebox was large and his cylinders strong; his superheater warmed him right through and left James practically bursting with the need to get out of the workshop and prove himself. His fire burned brightly, his steam pressure shot up. The men grinned as James easily passed all their tests, the foreman marking off boxes on his list with the smallest hint of a smile.

James felt his brakes being taken off, and then his regulator being very slowly opened, prompting him to hiss steam as he inched forwards. But as the brakes were put back on with an odd screeching noise. James frowned.

“Something feels a bit off, sir,” he said slowly. “What brakes was I fitted with?” The foreman winced out of James’ view, and went to speak only for Mr Hughes to place a firm hand on his shoulder. The Chief Mechanical Engineer shook his head slowly, a dark look in his eyes.

“It’s a new design!” Mr Hughes called out. “We want to test these before we give them to other engines, and considering how much stronger we hope you’ll be, you seemed like the best engine to trial them on. They do screech a bit though, but don’t be alarmed.” James beamed!

“Oh sir! I knew I was going to be special. Look at me – don’t I look smart!” “You look very nice in our livery,” agreed Mr Hughes politely. “Now we need to start running tests. Your crew and the inspector will take it from here.” With one final meaningful look at the foreman, Mr Hughes placed his hat atop his head and strode away.

James didn’t watch him go, his eyes instead set on the trucks and coaches that littered the yard. “I can’t wait!” grinned James, feeling his driver open his regulator once more after taking off his special brakes. They started him off on some light shunting duties, testing out his response to the controls. In the distance, a foreign whistle blasted through the works as another freight train blasted through at speed. James raised an eyebrow.

“Who’s that?” he asked. “We don’t usually get outsiders here.” “The railway is trialling a foreign engine to see how they could adapt it,” the inspector replied clinically. James hummed, considering the new information before continuing his shunting. Every time he braked, his brakes screeched, and he slid just a little more than usual.

“Inspector,” James began slowly after the ninth time, “these brakes seem a bit weak. Why don’t they stop me sooner?” The three men in James’ cab shared looks out of his line of sight. They seemed to have a silent conversation in the span of several seconds, before the inspector finally responded.

“They’re a dynamic brake,” he said carefully. “They’re a little slower to apply, but they are made of an extremely strong material that won’t wear out as much.”

James felt better after that. Had he been even a little older, he wouldn’t have accepted the reply as easily – after a certain period of time, most engines grew a sort of sixth sense around their motion. They could detect if something was wrong easily, and work to fix it. James had barely seen his second year in service when he was unceremoniously picked to be rebuilt; his youth had made him a prime choice. The older engines whispered about unification and grouping in the back of the sheds, thinking their shed masters were unaware that they knew of what was brewing. In return, their shed masters did their best to hide the full extent of the truth and quash the rumours.

James was ignorant to it all as he was rigorously tested. He worked hard at everything: he banked trains some days, hauled freight on others, and even pulled a couple of fast passenger trains! Each day brought another checkmark on the inspector’s form, and each night brought a new shed with unfamiliar faces. James never slept at the same shed two nights in a row. He went all over the network, seeing all the sights and meeting many engines.

None of them said much to him.

“Good evening!” James would try, only to get a lot of side-eye and subtle glances. James thought they were too impressed with him to speak! Or at least, he did at first. As the days stretched out into months and nothing changed, James began to feel the looks more acutely. The other engines weren’t impressed. They weren’t jealous of his potentially revolutionary design or the way that Mr Hughes sometimes came specifically to see him. They weren’t envious of how James got a special number and they weren’t in awe of how smart he looked.

They just didn’t like him. They thought him an imposter, an oddity. A weird Frankenstein’s engine made of a unique boiler, an unusual pony truck and unconventional brakes that just wouldn’t stop screeching whenever James tried to stop. James figured the screeching had to be from the metal brakes clamping against his steel wheels.

The screeching came from his wheels sliding along the rails.  

Seasons changed. James wasn’t invited into sheds as often anymore, sitting out in dirty old sidings in between the endless trials. They hadn’t ended, though James wondered if that was because he was succeeding and they wanted data in the wet and cold and maybe even the snow if it dragged on long enough… or if he was failing.

The foreign engine was still around somewhere too. James never saw it, but he heard it. When down south, he’d discovered that the whistle belonged to the Great Western Railway, which ran along the distant south-west coast of England. The few engines of that railway that he managed to see looked very smart, with dark green paint and great brass safety valve bonnets that shone like spun gold in the sun. They all looked very sleek and impressive – James felt gangly next to them. But when he asked about the foreign engine, he was always redirected away from an answer.

Winter came, and with it the rumour mill grew louder. Finally, James learnt an uncomfortable truth: the railways were being grouped together into four. When he heard, he asked Mr Hughes what it would mean – Mr Hughes didn’t reply, and instead booked James in for a general service.

The foreign engine left before the year was out, but James spent Christmas in the works sleeping to stave off the cold while the men switched out his brakes. Apparently, they weren’t working as well as hoped, but the trials were being extended to get an idea on what that meant.

The inspector no longer went everywhere with James. Instead, he turned up once a week and asked James weird vague and cagey questions before leaving again. Sometimes it was even a different inspector, especially as James was shuffled around again, heading further inland and into the territory of their rival—no, former rivals. James wasn’t part of a company that rivalled the old Midland Railway anymore. He was part of a company with them.

The Midland passenger engines had very shiny paint. They didn’t have the same gorgeous brass that the Great Western engines had, but instead they had the most eye-catching red paint James had ever seen! It was glorious – it sparkled in the sun and was vibrant even in the pouring rain.

James remained in black. His lining was neglected, and it slowly faded away. James wondered when he’d get a repaint. He had been hurried rebranded as being part of the new ‘LMS’ with an equally new number, but that had been done in under a day by a trio of bored-looking men. The new number sat stark on James’ tender, and he instantly hated it.

James only pulled trucks and shunted now. He didn’t get to pull fast trains or passengers or go lots of different places now. Instead, he was assigned to a shed in the middle of nowhere along a busy line, sleeping in a dirty berth on a dirty siding in between unimportant mineral trains from one junction to another. Monotony crept in slowly, James completely forgetting about his abnormal brakes and becoming immune to the screech they made when he stopped. Every day was the same, every journey the same. The Midland engines didn’t speak to the L&YR reject, steering well clear even as they slowly opened up to their old rivals.

And then one day, a new engine arrived at James’ shed. It was a design he’d seen dotted about, and it looked like a stronger version of his old class.

“I’m here to take over,” the engine grunted. James balked. “But what am I to do?” he spluttered. “I don’t know mate,” sneered the engine. “Maybe you’re time’s up. There’s rumblings in the factory that they finally finished the mogul design.” The engine looked James over, and snorted. “Oh, you’re the rejected design they built. Poor thing, there’s not much left for you now Hughes is retiring.”

James was rendered speechless for just long enough for the new engine to shunt some of the trucks into a line.

“I’m not a reject!” he exclaimed. “I’m the prototype! The class is based on me you nitwit – my design’s the future of this company.” The engine just chuckled, looking James over once more, before his eyes darted to James’ brakes.

“Oh yes, very revolutionary indeed,” he snorted, and puffed away. James was coupled up to some vans needing repairs, and dragged away from the shed he’d been forced to come to know as his home. He went far further than ever before, making his way well over halfway across the country. He was stopped in an unfamiliar workshop that bustled with hundreds of men and machines to have his LMS number unceremoniously scraped off, before being sent on again the next day. This time, he had a short train of trucks behind him. It grew steadily as he went, as did James’ temper.

“Get in line you stupid things!” he snapped, bumping the trucks harshly as he clattered along what felt like a double-tracked branchline to James. All the engines along the line were being withdrawn and replaced with yet more of the same smug class of tender engine that had stolen James’ job and home. James wondered if he was being drawn towards a scrapyard, tucked away at the end of this line.

Then he passed by an immense empty iron train, and realisation struck. He was in Cumbria. This had to be the famed Furness Railway that he’d heard of one night while in being trialled up in the north. Despite being such a small line, it’s massive industrial traffic kept it independent from the giants baying at its doors.

And look how well that worked out.

James arrived at Barrow-in-Furness with a long line of trucks, a screech of his brakes and a furious temper. His crew stepped down. “Sorry old boy,” sighed his driver, “but this is us. Your new crew will take you from here.” James stared at his driver like he’d lost his mind.

“What new crew? What is happening, driver?! I just lost my shed, I’ve been dragged halfway across the country and I'm surrounded by these smug Midlanders! Tell me what is going on!” James’ driver sighed, taking his cloth cap in his hands and squeezing it.

“Mr Hughes is being replaced soon,” his driver admitted quietly. “He’s decided to leave the company. Mr Fowler is taking over, and he’s agreed with the directors to sell you to the North Western Railway as part of a special agreement they’re making.” James blinked, stunned.

“The What Railway?” he asked slowly. “Wait… the No-Where Railway?! They’re… they’re… they’re getting rid of me?! But I’m meant to be the prototype! What, so they’re just going to use some other mogul design?!” His driver winced. A little shunting engine nearby looked over, perplexed.

“Didn’t your lot decide to base it off a Caley design that was influenced by those Westerners? The 4300 lot.” James went silent, unable to think of anything to say. He was stunned.

A new crew clambered into James’ cab and set off. James was silent as he crossed over the points and onto his new railway. He’d been sold off. He’d been sold off because he was a failure. His brakes screeched as his crew braked to slow at a signal. The trucks bumped and clattered behind him, hissing and grumbling.

“What’s that noise?” quizzed James’ new driver. James sighed.

“Those’re my brakes. They’re made of some special metal Mr Hughes wanted to test. They didn’t end up working as well, but I’ve still got them.” The crew shared a confused look inside James’ cab, but pressed on.

At Vicarstown, an old ‘American’ design from the Furness Railway was shunting in the yard as James rumbled in and began shunting trucks on and off of his slow goods train. The old engine winced at the screech James’ brakes made, then looked up and smiled warmly.

“Hullo! I’m Edward, who’re you?” “12620,” came the bitter reply. ‘Edward’ chuckled softly, rolling over to help with the shunting. “Not your number, your name,” Edward said. “I’m James,” said James quietly. “But only I call myself that.” “Well I’ll call you that too,” promised Edward firmly. James’ crew were quick to agree with the bright blue engine. James didn’t like the colour – it was too similar to Caledonian blue. The same Caledonian that stole his classes’ future with their mogul design.

The pair talked for a little, Edward warning James about the steeper gradients beyond Kellsthorpe Road as he helped the former LMS engine reshunt his slow goods to be easier to separate as the various stations along the NWR. James bumped his trucks roughly as he prepared to set off again. Edward heard the screech of James’ brakes again, and looked down. His eyes practically bulged out of his smokebox in shock.

“James, why’ve you got wooden brakes?!” exclaimed Edward. James snorted. “They’re not wood, they’re a special metal,” he replied harshly. Edward was about to say more when the signal dropped. James snorted away, continuing down the surprisingly steep mainline towards Crovan’s Gate. And Edward had called this the ‘gentle’ part of the mainline!

Crovan’s Gate was their works station. It also had a tiny little railway on a ledge above the mainline which skuttled about its own yard before vanishing off under a bridge. A tiny little engine with a nameplate declaring him to be ‘Rheneas’ was dozing in the sun beside the line. James screeched to a stop beside the little engine with trucks to be unloaded for the little railway. Rheneas jumped!

“You sound like you need your brakes checked,” Rheneas said. His accent was thicker than anything James had ever heard – it sounded faintly Welsh, but with Manx and maybe Scots in it? James wasn’t sure what to call it. “They’re a special metal,” James replied darkly. “You all keep asking me like my designer wouldn’t give me the strongest brakes he had.” Rheneas looked confused, but said nothing until James was back at the head of his train. Then, he spotted James’ brakes.

“But… those are wood,” he said carefully. James let off steam furiously. “THEY ARE NOT WOODEN!” he roared. Birds scattered from their trees. “I am sick of hearing that! Leave me alone!” bellowed James, storming off with screeching trucks in tow. The trucks were aggravated, annoyed, tired and then James had insulted Rheneas, one of the nicest engines on the island.

They had seen James’ brakes; they knew the truth. And they knew exactly what to do to prove it to James too…

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