Horror

Men Hunting Things – Book Review

February 6, 2021 by hpholo Leave a Comment

I picked up David Drake’s Men Hunting Things anthology for its amusingly frank title and, as has been a trend as of late, ended up finding a new favorite anthology. 😀

Its straightforward title belies a book of unexpected variety and complexity.

While some of the stories are simple and hilarious (Wilson Tucker’s “Gentlemen, The Queen!”), others offer a deep and often unsettling look at the psychologies of hunter and hunted, and frequently question which is actually the animal (or monster) in the story – the literal target, or the one hunting that target (or commissioning the hunt, in the case of Robert Silverberg’s “The Day The Monsters Broke Loose.”)

There’s a great diversity of story types, too, from the hard sci-fi of Clifford D. Simak’s “Good Night, Mr. James” and Eric Frank Russell’s “Mechanical Mice” to the moody Victorian-style horror of Alister McAllister’s “The Hunting on the Doonagh Bog” to the downright dystopia of Henry Kuttner’s “Home is the Hunter.”

I name these as standouts, but honestly there’s not a bad story in the bunch. If you’re looking for an anthology that balances the fun with the deep and hard sci-fi with the light, give it a try!

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Note: Holo Writing is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program and, as such, may earn a small commission from any product purchased through an affiliate link on this blog.

The Empire of Corpses – Anime Review

April 20, 2017 by hpholo Leave a Comment

In The Empire of Corpses, the dead walk the earth. In this reality, the famous reanimation research conducted by Viktor Frankenstein was not chased away with torches and pitchforks, but rather accepted and expanded to the point where corpse engineering is an accepted field of study and the dead are revived and repurposed for tasks the living would rather not do, from fighting wars to performing menial labor. However, these dead are not nearly as functional as The One perfect revival that Frankenstein was able to produce. Soon after perfecting this One, he disappeared, and his notes with him, leaving corpse engineers to conduct the same research themselves. Thus far they’ve only been able to manage shuffling, shambling reanimations with limited capacity for thought and no semblance of a soul.
John Watson aims to fix that. Obsessed with restoring a soul to his deceased (and reanimated) friend Friday, he accepts a mission from the British Secret Service to find Frankenstein’s original notes. But in the process, he uncovers many darker secrets…

WARNING: HERE BE SPOILERS.

When I first heard about The Empire of Corpses, I squealed in fangirlish glee because here was a whirlwind of things I love – Lavish animation! Steampunk! Creepy sci-fi! Anime! – wrapped up in one beautiful burst of a trailer. I mean look at this:

All this to say, I don’t know how you can take a film about steampunk science zombies and make it boring as hell, but this film did it with panache.

That panache is literally the only reason to watch The Empire of Corpses. The mechanical designs in the film, especially the analytical engines and Frankenstein’s book, are wonderfully complex, and the character designs are mostly fun, too, if sometimes distracting:

Literally everything else is a slow-burning mess.

The film had the basis for an interesting world. I really enjoyed how heavily the science relied on Charles Babbage’s analytical engine and variations to make Necroware – corpse technology – work. The very world of the movie also raises several interesting questions: How did people become so cool with the dead walking around and doing their chores? What about the living people that the dead put out of a job? Do the dead have basic human rights? What happens if the dead regain their souls and become sentient? What is the basis of a soul? Entire worlds of moral, economic, and spiritual questions are raised by the simple, wide presence of the reanimated dead.

Unfortunately the movie answers none of them in a satisfying way.

The first third of the movie, though the slowest part, is the best because it’s the part that presents the questions that it actually plans to address – namely those relating to the soul and how to reclaim it. (This is not a movie that is interested in socioeconomic world-building.)

However, the moment an isolated corpse engineer, Alexei Karamazov, kills one of Watson’s traveling companions to make a point about corpse engineering, the movie begins to tumble downhill fast. The deceased Nikolai Krasotkin is a character we’re supposed to like, but haven’t gotten time to know before his death, which is a problem that recurs in this movie. The death itself is also completely stupid and self-righteous. The reveal? In order to create a sentient, at least sort-of-ensouled corpse, one has to first lull and drug a living person, and then skewer their spinal cord with the Necroware so that they die (er, un-die?). Which kind of seems like the opposite of progress.

Nonetheless, Alexei skewers a still-living Nikolai to prove this point to Watson, then driven mad by this knowledge, skewers his own spinal cord with Necroware. Just before he proceeds to tell Watson where Frankenstein’s notes are, and that he must destroy them, all the while dying (or un-dying) all over the poor guy. Because obviously there was no easier way to relay this kind of information. 😐

The last time we see Alexei and Nikolai, they’re reanimated shells of their former selves, reenacting daily life with a creepy, soulless lack of direction. Because obviously the best way to carry out a madness-induced suicide is to do it with a machine that will bring you sort-of back to life. 😐 😐 😐

These egregious flaws-in-logic-for-the-sake-of-sort-of-horror-drama dominate and ruin the rest of the film. Nearly every time a new discovery is made, it raises a question that tears at the threads of the story’s world. Ooo, Lilith Hadaly has tech that can control corpses! Why was this not revealed like an hour ago? Why is it not in widespread use? Ooo, Thomas Edison created an automaton who is not only a babe but sentient enough that she can be sad about not having emotions? 😐 Screw light bulbs, why isn’t he making more of those? If complex automatons are even a thing that can happen, why bother reanimating smelly, stiff dead people at all? The very end of the movie shows Watson hooking himself up to his Necroware in hopes of reconnecting with Friday, which…ok how is that better than just staying alive and sentient and continuing research? I mean, as a viewer, I was glad for the implication that Watson was finally dead-ish (more on that later) because at least he wouldn’t be able to make any more stupid decisions that endanger the whole human race (like NOT BURNING THE FREAKING BOOK even after TWO DIFFERENT PEOPLE almost succeed at TURNING THE WHOLE WORLD INTO FREAKING ZOMBIES WITH IT OMG.)

My whole review literally could have read as this:

With a heaping side of:

As if I didn’t ask why enough, the film is also peppered with more literary and scientific references than it had any reason to include. Frankenstein and Babbage were necessary to the plot, but Thomas Edison? John Watson? Both of those characters could have had different names without it having any effect on the story – except for an after-credits sequence, wherein John Watson (still somehow alive) is revealed to have befriended who else but Sherlock Holmes, and Lilith Hadaly is now going by the name of Irene Adler. This does give the movie the novelty of presenting the one Watson who is more insane than Holmes, but again:

That’s not even the end of it. The climax of the movie is the biggest mess, coming down to a corpse-control transmitter that can apparently transmit to the whole world at once, The One being interested in Frankenstein’s book because Bride of Frankenstein’s soul or something or other, both The One and a mysterious eyepatch dude agreeing that human emotions/souls cause all kind of problems and wouldn’t we all just be better off as lifeless zombie people anyway, and green soul magic wherein Friday regains a soul but it’s Frankenstein’s? Maybe? And then loses it? And then gains one again? And loses it, too? I didn’t even care by that point. The only thing I was really paying attention to was the admittedly badass organ that The One played while doing his soul science BS.

I’m in the minority with this review, most of the ones I read before watching being glowing reviews. To which I say: What secret, hidden version of the movie did you guys watch, and how do I get my hands on it?

The Empire of Corpses had the potential to be an excellent piece of steampunk horror sci-fi, but as is, it’s an example of every way not to be one.

Dead Space: Scary Space

September 20, 2014 by holojacob Leave a Comment

SPOILER WARNING!

This article contains SPOILERS for the Dead Space trilogy.

You have been warned!

The ability to evoke an emotional response is one powerful one, and fear is a very potent emotion.
I remember being intimidated by the original Dead Space’s main menu alone. I didn’t even want to start that first game. So creepy! Naturally, different people will have different reactions. Some of us are desensitized to certain stimuli (for example, H.P. laughs when people get eaten in Attack on Titan), while others aren’t so hardy (that same show gives me nightmares).
This story is about my journey through the Dead Space trilogy. It starts with a truly fantastic and terrifying game: the original Dead Space. For me, it was one of my most memorable gaming experiences of recent memory. The game positively oozed atmosphere and presented a repressive sense of isolation.
Granted, this wasn’t the bowel clearing fear of a game like Amnesia: The Dark Descent, but it was more than enough for someone like me who dabbles with scary games, but prefers not to be permanently, psychologically scarred by them.
So, yes. Dead Space was the right scary game for me. Yes, it frightened me, but I had guns (or really wicked mining tools, in this case). I could deal with it.
One of the things I really enjoyed was just how alone you feel in the game. True, there is a smattering of supporting characters. And yes, you do get to interact with them before they meet gruesome fates. But, for most of the game, you are alone. Horribly, unbearably alone. It’s just you and your plasma cutter against a haunted ship full of space zombies that want to eat your face.
And it’s not only the necromorphs. Just about everything you come across wants you dead, including the ship, the asteroids around it, and the very vacuum of space. Dead Space places you alone in a truly oppressive environment, and I enjoyed (I’m using the term loosely here) every minute of it.
Then came Dead Space 2, and it too was a blast to play. But something was different, something that took me a while to figure out.
You see, I wasn’t alone anymore. Isaac Clarke, the silent protagonist from Dead Space (well, except for horrible screams of pain) was now an absolute chatterbox. In Dead Space, I was on my own against everything the Ishimura could throw at me. I was Isaac. In Dead Space 2, I tagged along with Isaac for the ride.
That made a huge difference for me. I found that I was much more at ease turning the next blood-splattered corner now that I had a badass engineer at my side, strange as that may seem. The shift from silent protagonist to a more fleshed out character really made the game a lot less scary. For me, personally, at least.
That’s not to say it didn’t have its share of brilliant moments. The return to the Ishimura? Definitely my favorite part of the second game. That long, drawn out lull in the action kept me on edge as I crept deeper and deeper into the ship’s decommissioned halls to the point where I was begging the game to throw something at me.
When the necromorphs finally arrived, it was awesome.
Dead Space 3 was … well, it just didn’t feel like the same game.
Sure, we still had the space zombies and the disturbing environments, but something was lost on the way from 1 to 2 to 3. The Dead Space games have always been big on jump scares, but Dead Space 3 seemed to take this to a ridiculous extreme. A huge chunk of the game was dominated by mobs of slasher and puker necromorphs jumping out of vents and running at me from all sides.
Sure, jump scares make you jump. That’s what they do. It’s a very human, very understandable response to a surprising stimulus. But after a while, it gets old. I became desensitized. Yeah, I still jumped here and there, but after that initial startled flash came another emotion.
Annoyance.
I tried playing through Dead Space 3 with my faithful plasma cutter, but abandoned it for heavier weaponry about halfway through. I became sick of fast necromorph mobs swarming me, stun-locking me, and having to furiously press the Do-Not-Die button to break their scripted animated holds.
So I retired my plasma cutter for some of the new weapons like shotguns and rocket launchers. I wasn’t even shooting off limbs at this point. Just overwhelming the enemies with sheer damage output, trying to survive a boring spam of cannon fodder. It felt like a different game to me.
To a certain degree, it was. Machine guns? Rocket launchers? Co-op? Many of the additions amped up the action and, as a side effect, lowered the tension. A few necromorphs charging you and your nearly empty plasma cutter is scary. Twenty of them charging your fully loaded rocket launcher? Not so much.
But the strangest addition came in the form of Unitology soldiers. Sure, additional enemy variety sounds good, but here it came at a price. By the time the climax arrived, I had basically wiped out a whole paramilitary army single-handedly (with the occasional necromorph eating a few of them). Those final soldiers blocking my path seemed afraid of me rather than the other way around. For the first time in the series, I really felt like the unstoppable juggernaut rather than the isolated engineer struggling to survive.
I still enjoyed Dead Space 3, but not nearly as much as the previous two games. Again, a lot of this comes down to personal preference. I bought Dead Space 3 because I wanted more of the same intense experiences I had in the first two games.
What I received was a horror game watered down by more guns and more enemies.
Meh. Could have been better.

Beasts of Burden, Volume 1 by Evan Dorkin and Jill Thompson – Book Review

May 18, 2013 by hpholo Leave a Comment

In Animal Rites, the first volume of graphic novel series Beasts of Burden, Pugsley, Jack, Ace, Whitey, Rex, and the Orphan are 5 dogs and a cat living fairly normal lives…until they encounter a ghost in Jack’s doghouse, a coven of witches, a werewolf, and several other supernatural oddities. Eventually, they combat so many paranormal dangers that they are invited to become apprentices of the Wise Dog Society, a group of dogs (and now one cat) devoted to defending their territory from paranormal threats.
This description might lead one to think that the story illustrated in the pages of this book is a fun little happy-go-lucky read. I mean, it’s got talking animals in it, right?
True, Beasts of Burden is a talking animal story. But it is not a talking animal story that you want to show your little siblings. Not unless you want them to grow up traumatized, anyway. In which case, go for it. You will succeed dramatically.
This series is billed as horror mystery. It fits that genre quite nicely, and with more originality and skill than many entries in the genre. One would expect a story like the one in the description—the adventures of a bunch of canine paranormal investigators—to be illustrated in a rather fun, cartoony style, and possibly to show up as a Nickelodeon series sometime in the near future. Instead of that rather trite approach, readers are instead given lavish watercolor illustrations to gaze at, not of anthropomorphic, but realistically-rendered creatures, with some liberties taken to allow for facial expression. The art in this book is marvelously expressive, and gorgeous to skim.
Whether it remains so upon a closer look is entirely up to the individual reader, as the art of this book puts the “gore” in “gorgeous.” If you are the sort of animal lover who cries when you see cute puppies in sad situations, you may as well steer clear, because this book will leave you traumatized, too. And if you are a curious animal lover, but iffy about the animal horror content, let me present you with this image from the third story: a pack of zombie dogs getting run over by a truck in vivid, splattery detail, then being left in the road because the drivers don’t want to handle the hassle of cleanup and owner contact. If that makes you uncomfortable, you might as well stay away, too, because the horror only gets worse from there. And for horror readers, this is a treat.
Before you think me an absolutely heartless person for saying so, let me say that I’m the sort of animal lover who can’t go to a pet shop without wanting to adopt all the cats, and then coming up with a list of sad things that might happen to those cats should I not adopt them, and then leaving the pet shop sad because I already have enough cats and they don’t want any friends anyway. So I am a fan of animals. However, I am also a fan of well-done horror, and this book is definitely that. Any artist can illustrate lots of blood and gore and call it horror, but only a skilled artist can make the reader care about the characters that it’s happening to, which is the key to the success of this volume. This book is great horror not because it’s disgusting (which it is) but because it has an emotionally wrenching effect on the reader, largely fueled by the art and its careful juxtaposition of the mundane with the horrible, as well as its well-designed, emotionally sensitive panel progressions. This level of artistry is makes the work one worth appreciating, perhaps even admiring.
This isn’t to say that being able to appreciate the work renders it an easy read. There were moments—many, many moments—when I cringed, or had to take a break from reading, or said to myself, “OMG. Did that really happen on that page? I have to look again. Yep. It totally did. It’s a book about talking animals, and that totally happened. This makes Watership Down look like Peter Rabbit.” (By the way, I have not actually read the Watership Down novel. I have seen the animated film, which is significantly less graphic than this comic, but still contains rabbits killing each other and doing otherwise disturbing things that would have messed me up as a child viewer, but thoroughly entertained me as a giddily morbid high schooler.)
Animal Rites, then, is a graphic novel best appreciated by lovers of well-executed horror, and by readers who can stomach animal tragedy. Everyone else will probably find it too sad or gross to read. Due to the genuinely graphic nature of this graphic novel, I don’t recommend it for younger teens, even precocious ones. Older teens and above who are looking for an intelligent and affecting horror experience, though, will find a rewarding read in this.
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Note: Holo Writing is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program and, as such, may earn a small commission from any product purchased through an affiliate link on this blog.