Then: Frank Herbert created a series of novels focused on a futuristic geo-political society. This is known as Dune.
Now: Son, Brian Herbert and Kevin J Anderson created trilogy after trilogy of prequel based on Herbert Senior's series.
Trilogy 1: Three novels taking place before the first Dune book.
Trilogy 2: Three novels taking place thousands of years before the first prequel trilogy.
Trilogy 3: The conclusion of the Dune series based on notes written by Herbert Senior.
So, what's there left to write again? Enter Paul of Dune. This novel will depict the years between the first and second Dune novels. Seriously, you guys haven't taken this thing too far. By the time Herbert Junior and Anderson are finished, the Dune saga will be the most documented series ever.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Comments on Chapter One
Yes, it's a serial. If you haven't seen one yet, I highly recommend one, especially a Republic. Chapter One has many hallmarks of the Republic serial. First of all, there's the masked villain. The identity of the main villain is often kept a secret until the last chapter. There's a few exceptions, such as Fu Manchu and Dr. Satan, but these villains are such characters they are usually more interesting than the protagonists. Second, there are the henchman. With the villain preserving his identity, he needs gofers for his evil deeds to succeed. Enter the henchmen. Usually, there's a main henchman, who survives all of the chapters, followed by a bunch of expendable, lesser henchmen. In my serial, I decided to create two main henchmen, Dekker and Ox. Dekker's the typical right-hand man, while Ox is the all-muscle, no brains thug.
But let's get to what's important: the cliffhanger. The cliffhanger of Chapter One is a fairly common one. During a struggle, nearby flammable material catches on fire, and soon our hero is left, unconscious, as the flames close in. Hopefully, next week, the resolution will not disappoint.
But let's get to what's important: the cliffhanger. The cliffhanger of Chapter One is a fairly common one. During a struggle, nearby flammable material catches on fire, and soon our hero is left, unconscious, as the flames close in. Hopefully, next week, the resolution will not disappoint.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Rick Daring and The Brilliant 5 – Chapter One: Chemical Flames
Two men walked with purpose through the inky darkness of the abandoned laboratory. The first, Dekker, was tall, slim, sharply dressed, and most importantly, utterly dangerous. Behind his slicked back hair and curt mustache lurked a devious mind of crime. The other, Ox, needed no thoughts for he was pure muscle, towering over Dekker.
They entered the darkened remains of an office, ruined by some horrible fire. There, in the middle, where a desk used to be, was a hologram projector. The evil men checked their watches. A quarter till Midnight. Any moment now…
On cue, the hologram hummed to life; an apparition rising from it. They had never met this man, their master, in person. But his money was real, and that’s all that mattered to men such as these. They could not make out much of the fog-like figure except for a pair of eyes that bore into them like sharp knives.
“This world will burn, this I swear!” hissed their master. “Mankind has always survived through adversary, not complacency! While the pathetic men in power live off their status, I shall take what I want, and that is the world! Under my control, we shall not live with our neighbors; we shall conquer them!” The mysterious master paused, considering his two henchmen for the first time.
“Dekker! Ox!” he rasped. “For my plans to succeed, I need the device being designed by Professor Jones and his team. You will acquire the plans for me and eliminate the dear professor. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly, sir.”
Far away from the burnt out lab and the plotting villains was the Institute of the Brilliant 5, a shining example of modern architecture amid the busy skyline of Monument City. The building was one of many, spread out throughout the galaxy, used as impromptu facilities for the Brilliant 5, a team of 5 specialists known the world over. “Old Timer,” the living historian, had lived for over half a century and remembers ever minute of it, expect for his real name. Johnny Highpitch, amphibious alien and sonics expert, had remarkable hearing that can not only detect a pin dropping but could tell what type of pin it was and what height it was dropped from. Maximilian Sebastian Orwell Maddock AKA “Junior” may be young, but he was the top of his field in linguistics. Teresa Becker was the team’s technician and inventor. Marissa Tulvak, a alien with an insect-like exoskeleton, was the world’s leading authority in biology and the application of technology to living tissue.
Their unofficial leader was a man called Richard Darington, known to most as Rick Daring. Daring got his nickname while recklessly boarding a wrecked spaceship that crashed on the Earth and helping the injured aliens repair their ship. As a reward, the aliens took him with them to the outreaches of the Milky Way. There, he met the five intrepid geniuses and helped them form the Brilliant 5.
Daring was a tall man with broad shoulders. His face was long with a sloping brow and square jaw. His blonde hair was trimmed short. Even after leaving the military, he kept his body in peak physical shape. Daring never preferred to use guns, especially when his double-breasted suit had a number of hidden gadgets made by Teresa to his specifications.
On this particular morning, Daring had just received a message from an old colleague, Professor William Jones. He was sharing the contents of the message with the rest of his team.
“As you know, Professor Jones is working with a team of scientist on a top secret project for the government. A month ago, one of the five scientist, a Doctor Bryant, was killed in a lab accident that burned down the entire building.”
“There were some rumors that it wasn’t an accident,” stated Junior, combing back some of his unruly hair. “Not that there’s any solid evidence to back that supposition.”
“Don’t go on showing off yer fancy ten cent words,” remarked Old Timer, scratching at his grey beard. “Try using words ya know the meaning to.”
“Sure,” remarked Junior. “I’ll talk nice and slow so that you’ll understand me next time.” Old Timer scowled at this and was about to make a rebuttal, when he was interrupted.
“What exactly are they working on?” asked Teresa, attired in a modest three-piece suit. Its bright colors set off her naturally dark skin. “A death ray, perhaps?”
“How horrible!” exclaimed Marissa, holding her hand to her mouth. “Couldn’t they be working on a new electron smasher or a DNA replicator?”
“Unfortunately, we don’t have the clearance to know,” replied Daring. “But the good professor and his colleagues feel that their lives are in danger. That Doctor Bryant was just the beginning.”
“Why now?” asked Johnny Highpitch, sitting comfortably in his Victorian outfit.
“Apparently, over the last week, they swear that they’ve seen people following them, watching their every move.”
“Simple paranoia,” replied Junior. “They’ve been in their labs too long.”
“Rocket Scientists? Pisshaw!” muttered Old Timer. “Why, they ain’t no more than a bunch of babies, needing their hands held in the dark.”
“Nevertheless,” stated Daring. “He asked for our help, and given the sensitivity of their work, it wouldn’t hurt to check things out.” He looked at Junior and Old Timer. “Since the two of you are so keen on the idea, you two will accompany me on nice afternoon drive to his laboratory.”
Neither man said anything. They just crossed their arms and sulked a bit. The other three were relieved that they could go back to their work.
“If you need anything before you go, just call,” said Teresa before she left.
The trip in Daring’s open top roadster was pretty uneventfully. Daring focused on the driving, while Junior and Old Timer playfully bickered about random, trivial matter. In fact, getting through the five layers of security clearances, strip searches, and interrogations took longer than the trip itself.
Once inside the actual facility, Daring and his men strolled the hallway leading to Professor Jones’s lab.
“You’d think at least one of them varmints would have the decency of at least greeting us,” muttered Old Timer. “We’re only here for their safety, after all.”
“Your ugly mug probably scared them all off,” remarked Junior.
“Is that so, huh? Is it?” shouted a flabbergasted Old Timer.
“Cool your heels, gents,” intervened Daring. “We’re here.” He knocked on the door once. No reply. “Professor Jones, it’s Rick Daring. I’m here in response to your letter.” Still nothing.
Daring tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. Opening the door revealed a mess of overturned bookshelves and notebooks littering the ground. On the far wall, against the windowpanes, was a large steel safe, opened, and lying next to it was the very still body of Professor Jones. Blood was pooling underneath it.
The door slammed shut behind Daring, cutting him off from his comrades. A tall man with a weasel smile had been hiding behind the door and was currently pointing a gun in his face. Daring eyed the beakers on the table behind him. A loud thud on the door, followed by shouts from Junior and Old Timer, distracted Daring’s attacker for a moment. In that moment, Daring grabbed the beaker and threw it at the attacker’s gun hand. The beaker shattered, and the glass cut into the man’s hand.
Daring leapt at the man even as the gun started falling to the ground. He swung his powerful fists, knocking his attacker off of his feet. But his attacker persisted, kicking out at Daring. He was soon on his feet again. This time, he grabbed a nearby stool and threw it at Daring. Daring dodged it, but the stool crashed into a set of breakers, spilling chemicals all over the room.
Daring raced across the room, but was too late in stopping the attacker from retrieving his gun. Daring’s hands latched onto the man’s wrists, and the attacker fired wildly. Sparks from the revolver landed on the chemicals, igniting them. Within seconds, the room was a full-blown inferno. Daring was determined that Jones’s murderer not get away, but a lucky blow from the assailant sent him back into the burning rumble as the attacker escaped through the window.
Outside, in the hallway, Old Timer and Junior struggled to break down the door, until a large explosion knocked them both off their feet, catapulting the door into the hallway after them.
Click Here to Go To The Next Chapter
Written by J M Emmons. The story and all characters are copyrighted by J M Emmons.
They entered the darkened remains of an office, ruined by some horrible fire. There, in the middle, where a desk used to be, was a hologram projector. The evil men checked their watches. A quarter till Midnight. Any moment now…
On cue, the hologram hummed to life; an apparition rising from it. They had never met this man, their master, in person. But his money was real, and that’s all that mattered to men such as these. They could not make out much of the fog-like figure except for a pair of eyes that bore into them like sharp knives.
“This world will burn, this I swear!” hissed their master. “Mankind has always survived through adversary, not complacency! While the pathetic men in power live off their status, I shall take what I want, and that is the world! Under my control, we shall not live with our neighbors; we shall conquer them!” The mysterious master paused, considering his two henchmen for the first time.
“Dekker! Ox!” he rasped. “For my plans to succeed, I need the device being designed by Professor Jones and his team. You will acquire the plans for me and eliminate the dear professor. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly, sir.”
Far away from the burnt out lab and the plotting villains was the Institute of the Brilliant 5, a shining example of modern architecture amid the busy skyline of Monument City. The building was one of many, spread out throughout the galaxy, used as impromptu facilities for the Brilliant 5, a team of 5 specialists known the world over. “Old Timer,” the living historian, had lived for over half a century and remembers ever minute of it, expect for his real name. Johnny Highpitch, amphibious alien and sonics expert, had remarkable hearing that can not only detect a pin dropping but could tell what type of pin it was and what height it was dropped from. Maximilian Sebastian Orwell Maddock AKA “Junior” may be young, but he was the top of his field in linguistics. Teresa Becker was the team’s technician and inventor. Marissa Tulvak, a alien with an insect-like exoskeleton, was the world’s leading authority in biology and the application of technology to living tissue.
Their unofficial leader was a man called Richard Darington, known to most as Rick Daring. Daring got his nickname while recklessly boarding a wrecked spaceship that crashed on the Earth and helping the injured aliens repair their ship. As a reward, the aliens took him with them to the outreaches of the Milky Way. There, he met the five intrepid geniuses and helped them form the Brilliant 5.
Daring was a tall man with broad shoulders. His face was long with a sloping brow and square jaw. His blonde hair was trimmed short. Even after leaving the military, he kept his body in peak physical shape. Daring never preferred to use guns, especially when his double-breasted suit had a number of hidden gadgets made by Teresa to his specifications.
On this particular morning, Daring had just received a message from an old colleague, Professor William Jones. He was sharing the contents of the message with the rest of his team.
“As you know, Professor Jones is working with a team of scientist on a top secret project for the government. A month ago, one of the five scientist, a Doctor Bryant, was killed in a lab accident that burned down the entire building.”
“There were some rumors that it wasn’t an accident,” stated Junior, combing back some of his unruly hair. “Not that there’s any solid evidence to back that supposition.”
“Don’t go on showing off yer fancy ten cent words,” remarked Old Timer, scratching at his grey beard. “Try using words ya know the meaning to.”
“Sure,” remarked Junior. “I’ll talk nice and slow so that you’ll understand me next time.” Old Timer scowled at this and was about to make a rebuttal, when he was interrupted.
“What exactly are they working on?” asked Teresa, attired in a modest three-piece suit. Its bright colors set off her naturally dark skin. “A death ray, perhaps?”
“How horrible!” exclaimed Marissa, holding her hand to her mouth. “Couldn’t they be working on a new electron smasher or a DNA replicator?”
“Unfortunately, we don’t have the clearance to know,” replied Daring. “But the good professor and his colleagues feel that their lives are in danger. That Doctor Bryant was just the beginning.”
“Why now?” asked Johnny Highpitch, sitting comfortably in his Victorian outfit.
“Apparently, over the last week, they swear that they’ve seen people following them, watching their every move.”
“Simple paranoia,” replied Junior. “They’ve been in their labs too long.”
“Rocket Scientists? Pisshaw!” muttered Old Timer. “Why, they ain’t no more than a bunch of babies, needing their hands held in the dark.”
“Nevertheless,” stated Daring. “He asked for our help, and given the sensitivity of their work, it wouldn’t hurt to check things out.” He looked at Junior and Old Timer. “Since the two of you are so keen on the idea, you two will accompany me on nice afternoon drive to his laboratory.”
Neither man said anything. They just crossed their arms and sulked a bit. The other three were relieved that they could go back to their work.
“If you need anything before you go, just call,” said Teresa before she left.
The trip in Daring’s open top roadster was pretty uneventfully. Daring focused on the driving, while Junior and Old Timer playfully bickered about random, trivial matter. In fact, getting through the five layers of security clearances, strip searches, and interrogations took longer than the trip itself.
Once inside the actual facility, Daring and his men strolled the hallway leading to Professor Jones’s lab.
“You’d think at least one of them varmints would have the decency of at least greeting us,” muttered Old Timer. “We’re only here for their safety, after all.”
“Your ugly mug probably scared them all off,” remarked Junior.
“Is that so, huh? Is it?” shouted a flabbergasted Old Timer.
“Cool your heels, gents,” intervened Daring. “We’re here.” He knocked on the door once. No reply. “Professor Jones, it’s Rick Daring. I’m here in response to your letter.” Still nothing.
Daring tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. Opening the door revealed a mess of overturned bookshelves and notebooks littering the ground. On the far wall, against the windowpanes, was a large steel safe, opened, and lying next to it was the very still body of Professor Jones. Blood was pooling underneath it.
The door slammed shut behind Daring, cutting him off from his comrades. A tall man with a weasel smile had been hiding behind the door and was currently pointing a gun in his face. Daring eyed the beakers on the table behind him. A loud thud on the door, followed by shouts from Junior and Old Timer, distracted Daring’s attacker for a moment. In that moment, Daring grabbed the beaker and threw it at the attacker’s gun hand. The beaker shattered, and the glass cut into the man’s hand.
Daring leapt at the man even as the gun started falling to the ground. He swung his powerful fists, knocking his attacker off of his feet. But his attacker persisted, kicking out at Daring. He was soon on his feet again. This time, he grabbed a nearby stool and threw it at Daring. Daring dodged it, but the stool crashed into a set of breakers, spilling chemicals all over the room.
Daring raced across the room, but was too late in stopping the attacker from retrieving his gun. Daring’s hands latched onto the man’s wrists, and the attacker fired wildly. Sparks from the revolver landed on the chemicals, igniting them. Within seconds, the room was a full-blown inferno. Daring was determined that Jones’s murderer not get away, but a lucky blow from the assailant sent him back into the burning rumble as the attacker escaped through the window.
Outside, in the hallway, Old Timer and Junior struggled to break down the door, until a large explosion knocked them both off their feet, catapulting the door into the hallway after them.
Click Here to Go To The Next Chapter
Written by J M Emmons. The story and all characters are copyrighted by J M Emmons.
Friday, September 26, 2008
General Kenobi is Coming!
I got an email the other day from Sideshow Collectibles, saying that their 12" General obi-Wan Kenobi figure (in clone armor) will soon be on its way.
I've always find it so distressing how much of these high-end collectibles sell and fast. I've seen pictures of fans' collections with shelves and shelves of Medicoms and Hot Toys, each costing at least $150. My question is where do they get all that money? I know I'm not one to speak, seeing that I just admitted that I pre-ordered a $90 figure, but I had to twist my own arm to get it, and it's the only Sideshow figure I'm getting this year.
I guess the point I'm trying to make is how much people spend on statues, busts, "premium format" figures, as well as the 1/6 scale figures. Or rather how much are YOU spending on these things?
I've always find it so distressing how much of these high-end collectibles sell and fast. I've seen pictures of fans' collections with shelves and shelves of Medicoms and Hot Toys, each costing at least $150. My question is where do they get all that money? I know I'm not one to speak, seeing that I just admitted that I pre-ordered a $90 figure, but I had to twist my own arm to get it, and it's the only Sideshow figure I'm getting this year.
I guess the point I'm trying to make is how much people spend on statues, busts, "premium format" figures, as well as the 1/6 scale figures. Or rather how much are YOU spending on these things?
Big Announcement?
Probably, hopefully. Tune in on Sunday to see what is (hopefully) a new weekly installment of my blog. That is, if I keep my act together. (So, probably not then.)
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
On The Fringe
The next generation's X-Files is created by JJ Abrams, which means that enigmatic symbolism and vague, omniscient super-corporations are abound. The pilot, which I just finished watching, brings our main cast together as FBI Agent Not-Sydney-Bristow tries to save her partner-boyfriend as his skin evaporates. (Crystallizes?)
The boyfriend in question is played by none other than Mark Valley. Valley, who seems to flock toward roles that consists of him doing mostly nothing, would probably be recognized by fans of Boston Legal. (Where he did nothing as well.)
As it happens, spoiler alert, he dies after being cured. (Going into details would really ruin it.) Suffice to say, he won't be in the rest of the season. Or will he? As Ghola Boyfriend perhaps?
Nevertheless, Mr Valley, if you're done wasting your talents and happen to be offered the role of Captain America, please take it.
We'd all be very grateful.
The boyfriend in question is played by none other than Mark Valley. Valley, who seems to flock toward roles that consists of him doing mostly nothing, would probably be recognized by fans of Boston Legal. (Where he did nothing as well.)
As it happens, spoiler alert, he dies after being cured. (Going into details would really ruin it.) Suffice to say, he won't be in the rest of the season. Or will he? As Ghola Boyfriend perhaps?
Nevertheless, Mr Valley, if you're done wasting your talents and happen to be offered the role of Captain America, please take it.
We'd all be very grateful.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
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