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[bookishmatt]

Cage Match 2013 Round 3: IT vs. Gandalf

(Originally posted on the since-retired Suvudu.com on March 13, 2013)

The Contestants

IT

A Wrinkle in Time, by Madeleine L’Engle

Age: Unknown

Race: Unknown

Weapons / Artifacts: All the defenses of the planet Camazotz; intrusive telepathic powers

Special Attack: Erosion of the will and dominance of the spirit.

Advantages

Heavily guarded fortress

Vast intelligence

Disadvantages

Physically vulnerable

Mental powers can be overcome by emotions like love

Not used to being challenged

Kills

The Harpy Celaeno

The Thing – That’s that

Gandalf

J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings

Age: At least 20,000 years

Race: Maiar (wizard)

Weapons / Artifacts: Glamdring, a staff, and fireworks

Special Attack: Arriving precisely when he means to

Advantages

Seemingly immortal

Has beaten a Balrog

Good at shifting big responsibilities to small hobbits

Disadvantages

Love of the halfling’s weed

Kills

Professor Moriarty

Doctor Who – Is there a doctor in the house? Not anymore.

How we think the fight will go

A deathly cold wave of darkness was extending through the universe, reaching its oppressive tendrils through every corner of space, growing each day ever stronger, ever dominant. Camazotz, at the heart of the corruption, could not save itself. Even the mere thought of liberation would be quickly extinguished, and resistance to the the tyrant who would not stop until every world was on their knees would result in dominance to all but the cleverest opponents. The Ainur, divine architects of countless worlds, had been leading the battle against the influence of The Dark Thing and all of the evil it brings for thousands of years, empowering lesser beings — no matter how small or seemingly insignificant — to fight back against the dystopian plague.

Ever stalwart in their insistence not to defeat power by granting even greater power, the Ainur saw it fit to win their battles in a very lateral manner and had been known to send their heralds to guide halflings and children alike, whose unassuming natures were often met with underestimation. After all, not even a being that could manipulate matter and minds as though they were clay would suspect to be challenged by a child, and the folly of arrogance would decide the battles.

But then, of course, there was the war.

The side of good had been losing for too long, and the divine overseers of righteousness, whose light could not shine in the web surrounding the Dark planets, were becoming desperate to stem the flood waters. With Gallifrey and its people lost to time and Earth lacking in warriors, the Ainur turned to Arda.

When a higher being appeared before Gandalf the White in the Undying Lands, he answered the call dutifully. As a re-ascended Maiar, Gandalf could not refuse his duty to defend the light — even if the herald was a little more whimsical than one might expect, clad in a mess of colorful rags and calling herself “Mrs. Whatsit.” Gandalf abided.

She teleported him through time and space in a chilling instant, but he had been warned of the feeling of death reaching out to grip his heart and spread through his every atom. He remained steely, even as relative warmth poured back into him at the end of the tesser, as he emerged onto Camazotz where IT sat atop its throne in the clouds.

Unable to bear the darkness of this planet, the sun-spirit immediately left Gandalf to face this challenge alone. The wizened figure tenderly readjusted his pointy hat atop his bushy head and fixed his eyes on the tower ahead. He gave himself a knowing hum as he couldn’t help but liken the monolithic tower to that of Sarumon’s. Using his long, gnarled staff to make his steps more sure, Gandalf began walking toward the tower, cognizant of his surroundings and of the baffled and terrified expressions fixed on him but focused on his purpose.

It was made clear to him that he was not brought to Camazotz to empower the enslaved humans of this world, as was usually the wish of the Ainur, but rather to act as its sole liberator. There was too much at stake, and too many good fighters lost, for the forces of Good to delay any further with usual methods. Finally, before all was lost, they had sent the best warrior in the universe to finish the fight — a warrior who, however powerful, was still technically mortal and still fit in with the divine plan.

To be sure, mortality didn’t take away from the fact that Gandalf had regained nearly all of his power as a Maiar. Ever since completing his quest to dispel the Dark Lord on Arda, Gandalf’s powers had grown stronger by the day in The Undying Lands.

So when he arrived at the base of the tower, thus far as unassuming as any little child or hobbit may be, he immediately attracted the attention of the local authorities after he tapped the ground with the bottom of his staff and caused the earthy foundation beneath the tower to spike suddenly into the earth in a perfectly square radius, driving the tower downward as though it had been struck with a gargantuan hammer.

Gandalf shielded his face with a baggy sleeve from the displaced earth particles. When the debris settled, there were two older gentlemen standing at either side of him, both well out of staff reach. Their eyes glowed red and yet their expressions were paternal. Gandalf knew that these figures were the muscle of the creature ruling from up in its tower, the top of which was now on the ground level.

“I think you’ll find that you’re making a great mistake, my friend,” said both suit-clad men in perfect unison. “You do not want to make an enemy of the savior of the universe, who wants nothing but happiness and peace.”

Gandalf gruffly guffawed and nodded to himself, musing, “I have seen the sort of ‘peace’ afforded by brute force and oppression before, and I think you’ll find that I am no friend of it.” He unsheathed his sword, Glamdring, to express his intent without further words.

The two men with their glowing red eyes understood his message loud and clear. They said, again in harmony, “Very well. We just want you to know that we offered you the chance for peace and to eliminate all of your suffering. We are gracious, and we must insist that you accept our offer.” Both men began to raise their hands for the incantation that Gandalf had been warned about, and the wise wizard chose that moment to conjure his shield of Istari, an ability that rendered him impervious for a time. The puppets’ attempt to rip Gandalf’s atoms apart were completely ineffectual, but they quickly readjusted and tried another approach, manipulating the pavement with hand waves to attempt squashing the Wizard in walls of concrete.

Gandalf dove fast just out of the animated jaws of material, pointing his staff while in midair at the man to his right. From the end of his staff, a massive lightning bolt snaked forward and struck the man directly in his sternum, instantly setting him completely ablaze. The man let loose a shrill scream of rage with a voice not his own, flailing and falling to his knees in defeat.

The remaining adversary continued his assault unfettered, trying to entangle Gandalf’s legs by animating the very ground he stood on. Gandalf leapt nimbly over these tendrils, but struggled to find his aim while bounding through the air. When he pointed his staff again, the red-eyed man waved his hand in the air in a slicing motion and cut the staff in half from afar, which had not been protected by the shield conjuration.

Gandalf barreled forward, still impervious for at least a few seconds more, and brought his sword around in a wide arc that connected with the arm of his opponent, cleaving through it cleanly. The man rolled, picking up his arm in the process, and manipulated the molecules of the severed limb so that it condensed into an impossibly sharp dagger. He thrust it at Gandalf, and the wizard, though still shielded, parried with his sword, not certain if his shield could withstand a blade made so fine with such a conjuration. In fact, the blade made chips in his otherwise hearty sword. Gandalf had to find an opening, and fast.

Though it was more difficult to execute a spell without his wand, Gandalf had to try. As he backed quickly away and parried from the precise swipes of the knife, he focused his energies on a blinding flash of light, effectual enough to stun his opponent as he moved around him to slash at his vitals uncontested, defeating him with certainty.

All the while during this battle with the two red-eyed men, several underlings of IT were forming a perimeter around Gandalf, wielding some sort of metallic projectile weapon, and more began pouring in from all around. But before they could get a chance to fire on the wizard, Gandalf focused his energies and swept his hand in a wide arc, shooting great pillars of unscalable earth upward to shield him from any more oncomers. He could now focus on his primary objective: defeating IT.

Winded and a little weary but nevertheless determined, Gandalf gathered his energy and focused his mind straight ahead to the metal wall of the building directly in front of him. He reached out his hand and nodded his head in an effort to find concentration. After a laborious moment, he sharply tapped the metal with his fingertips. Immediately, a giant hole large enough for him to step through blasted inward. Unafraid, Gandalf the White stepped into the throne room of IT.

What few lights hadn’t been destroyed in the fall of the tower flickered in the distance. Shadows animated the area as though the twisted metal panels were alive. But the room appeared to be free of IT’s minions, free of an opposition other than the dark, pulsating blob that sat atop a pedestal in the room’s center, its backside illuminated intermittently by the failing lights. IT.

You would bring death and strife to a happy world? A reproachful voice spoke directly into Gandalf’s mind. One as wise and as benevolent as you, Gandalf the White of the Istari, ought to know better than most what sure and harmonious peace I offer to this universe. There was something in the way IT said harmonious that formed a drumbeat in Gandalf’s heart, a drumbeat just barely out of sync with Gandalf’s own heartbeat.

“I know that you think that in order to defeat chaos, you must control it, but that is no one’s choice to make.” Murky thoughts began to seep into Gandalf’s head, but he pressed on, taking a step toward the enlarged brain atop the pedestal. “This power you wield to take away what you would call ‘chaotic thoughts’ should belong to no one, least of all a tyrant. Least of all,” Gandalf’s steps faltered, and he found it increasingly difficult to move to the beat of his own heart, “least of all a creature with no ability to love.”

This seemed to enrage the creature, and the ensuing shriek sent a shudder through Gandalf, who was inching ever closer to IT, pulling his sword up through the air to strike — but with such great difficulty, as though it weighed a hundred times more. Do not speak to me of love, Istari. Love is chaos! Love has no place in my universe.

Gandalf regained a bit of his focus, and his leaden footsteps dragged slightly less at this. “By the love of Ilúvatar, all of creation exists to be free and to love freely. To be free of such cold and twisted logic as yours.” Finally within striking distance, Gandalf’s arm was fully raised and his will had become enough of his own to fulfill his destiny.

What of pity, friend? IT pleaded with eerie calmness. You speak of love, but do you know the consequence of my demise? Gandalf’s heart pounding, he paused a moment. The Ainur didn’t tell you, did she? You ought to know what’s at stake. You ought to know that, if I am defeated, then every mind who I have liberated on this planet will collapse without my control. If you kill me, then you are also the murderer of eleven billion happy, useful humans. Can you live with yourself, knowing these consequences?

Though Gandalf had not known this — and could not know if IT was bluffing — this was a scenario he had contemplated countless times while philosophising on the halfling’s weed. He answered, “If indeed these minds are already lost, then I am powerless to change their fates. No, pity will not stay my hand from a corrupt ruler when every other man’s life in all of creation is at stake.” And with that, the defender of the light brought down Glamdring in a fatal arc, cleaving the brain spectacularly in two.

Predicted Winner: Gandalf

NOTE: THIS MATCH ENDS ON Friday, March 22th, 2013, AT 5 PM, EST

Check out all the Cage Match 2013 posts!

Check out the round 1 recap and Cage Match 2013 Bracket!

Check out the round 2 recap and Cage Match 2013 Bracket!

IT is a character from Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time; Gandalf is a character from The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien.

IT image courtesy of ShutterStock. Gandalf image courtesy of MGM/Warner Bros.

Cage Match fans: We are looking forward to hearing your responses! If possible, please abstain from including potential spoilers about the books in your comments (and if you need spoilers to make your case, start your comments with: “SPOILER ALERT!”

[bookishmatt]

Cage Match 2013 Round Two: IT vs. The Thing

(Originally posted on the since-retired Suvudu.com on March 13, 2013)

The Contestants

IT

A Wrinkle in Time, by Madeleine L’Engle

Age: Unknown

Race: Unknown

Weapons / Artifacts: All the defenses of the planet Camazotz; intrusive telepathic powers

Special Attack: Erosion of the will and dominance of the spirit.

Advantages

Heavily guarded fortress

Vast intelligence

Disadvantages

Physically vulnerable

Mental powers can be overcome by emotions like love

Not used to being challenged

Kills

The Harpy Celaeno

The Thing

Who Goes There? by John W. Campbell

Age: At least 20,000 years

Race: Shapeshifting, body-infiltrating extraterrestrial

Weapons / Artifacts: Transforms its appendages into any weapon of its choosing

Special Attack: Renders men insane with future dream vision

Advantages

Telepathic

Can completely become any living organic form that it enters

Scientific knowledge beyond human comprehension

Disadvantages

Won’t attack in the open for fear of outing itself

Self-preserving tissue can reveal true nature by reflexively recoiling from danger

Appears to be incapable of becoming any form from memory for more than an instant

Kills

Griffin, The Invisible Man

Port Burdock was no stranger to the peculiar behaviors of scientists, especially given the incident of one unspeakably corrupt individual who had terrorized the town many years ago. So although Doctor Kemp had once barely shown signs of the eccentricities that one might expect from someone of his profession, the once unassuming scientist had begun to work in isolation and to develop the disposition of a desperate, impatient man, giving the townsfolk the vague inkling of an impression that perhaps his former house servant had known something of his true nature after all.But ultimately, the townspeople of Port Burdock could reasonably attribute any change in his behavior to the traumatic invisible man incident, being that he was closer to it than almost anyone else. That is, it’s not as if Thomas Marvel were the model for sanity after his direct involvement with the mad invisible man. It’s not as if one could be too suspicious of Kemp’s isolation and increasingly exotic taste in rare materials imported from all over the world. It’s not as if anyone would ever suspect that Kemp was working to unlock the secrets of time and space so that he could tesser far, far away from this galaxy. Such a suspicion would be insane, grounds for being committed as once his servant had.

And yet.

Kemp was not entirely Kemp. Kemp possessed impossible scientific knowledge, the blueprints to the universe, and had, finally, after years of searching, gathered the pieces necessary to create a permanent tesser device, a portal to another world. Kemp would have been the most brilliant man alive. If he were merely a man.

With the final rare metals welded in place and the portal device humming to life, Kemp could finally, after 20,000 years, leave this planet — and return with an army. Absolutely certain of his coordinates, Kemp stepped through the whirling blue vortex of the portal, jubilant to have finally found a way back home.

Before the transfer of his molecules was complete in the passage through the wormhole, Kemp could already feel that something had gone wrong. A possible miscalculation? Highly unlikely, but there was no explaining the bitterly cold sensation that raced through his every atom. There was nothing comforting that occurred to Kemp, no matter how logical the thought process in that lightning flash of a moment, to explain away that dreadful feeling that he had felt only once before when he had first crash-landed on Earth, frozen near-instantly when he stepped out of his ship.

Such wild agitation replaced his prior cheeriness; it was almost a discomfort to emerge through the cold folds of time, arriving on his home planet. Almost. The hilly landscape was immediately recognizable, the climate familiarly tepid, and the star of his world so welcoming that he couldn’t help but feel, for a moment, satisfied to have returned home to his planet Camazotz.

But this is where familiarity and comfort ended, because instead of the metallic spires and domes that once marked the capital of his once great civilization, he saw rows of identical, drab dwellings that reminded him of primitive Earth homes. He saw, in uncannily synchronized unity, samey human females reaching out of their open doorways to pick up their newspapers on their stoops. Throughout the entire length of the block, everyone stopped and stared at him, curious but fearful, for Kemp was out of place and stood silhouetted by a swirling blue portal.

Catching themselves, the people slammed their doors shut, some even dropping their newspapers, and many scurried quickly to their windows to stare at Kemp through the blinds. This was entirely wrong, Kemp knew. He could tell from the sun and the air and from his impeccably calculated coordinates that this was indeed his home world. But what Kemp didn’t know was that 20,000 years had passed since his crash landing on Earth, for in his frozen state he was not aware of the passage of time, and certainly unaware of the fate of his race. For him, he had only been away from home for a handful of years.

But it only took him a moment to understand. His telepathic capacity could read the minds of all living creatures around him, even behind closed doors. He reached out far and wide with his mind. It only took a moment for him to understand that his species no longer ruled this planet, and that the people here answered to a higher power, a power that immediately greeted him inside his own head. Hello, friend. You’re different from the others. The voice had a sing-song rhythmic quality, a quality that was immediately recognizable to a fellow telepath who could influence more primitive lifeforms. The voice quickly sensed this. You’ve worn the disguise of Doctor Kemp for many years, but I can see right through you. I can see you for what you truly are.

One building stood out in the skyline, distinct among these primitive earthlike dwellings, tall and metal, almost pulsating with significance. Kemp knew that this was the source of the voice, the source for the change of his home world. Not yet certain of his next move, he probed and answered, And I can see what you truly are. They could keep nothing from each other. A puppet master. Kemp understood how much time had passed since he crashed on Earth, and the war that waged here on Camazotz and across the galaxy. A genocidist. Kemp’s thoughts became furious. You exterminated my people. Kemp’s thoughts became resigned. You will do the same to me.

Kemp knew that he had to get back to the portal immediately, but suddenly became surrounded by rounded, wheeled vehicles. The moment he turned to escape, the portal dissipated. Older gentlemen in identical suits, all with glowing red eyes fixed on him like lasers, stepped out of the three vehicles that formed a barricade around him.

IT, the voice of his species’ conqueror, spoke ever calmly in Kemp’s head. I know that you will not submit. You will never accept the peace that I could offer you, just as your kind rejected peace so long ago. I know that you will fight. And you and I both know that you will lose.

For the first time since leaving Antarctica years ago, Kemp showed his true self. The Thing that had fled Antarctica as a severely injured bird and taken over the defenseless scientist Kemp revealed itself with limbs that morphed into giant blades and sprouted extra appendages that became wings, lifting the Thing off the ground.

But it was for nothing. The stoic red-eyed pawns of IT raised their hands and flicked their fingers in such a way that they distorted the Thing’s very molecules, crushing its wings against its body and grounding it immediately. With exasperation, IT said, I offer you one more chance to submit and embrace peace. There is no use in fighting us.

And there’s no use in lying, answered the Thing, for it knew that anything that could not submit to IT would be exterminated. The Thing thrashed suddenly, growing and swinging its giant scythe-like blade down into the necks of one of the three pawns, killing him instantly, but the remaining two managed to maneuver their hands in a way that instantly crushed every molecule of The Thing into the size of the tip of a pen, and for all its attempts to reconfigure its molecules back into fighting form, it could not gain control over its shapeshifting capabilities again.

Kept perfectly compact. the Thing was transported to a crematorium to be finally wiped from existence, the last of its kind.

Predicted Winner: IT

NOTE: THIS MATCH ENDS ON Friday, March 15th, 2013, AT 5 PM, EST

Check out all the Cage Match 2013 posts!

Check out the round 1 recap and Cage Match 2013 Bracket!

IT is a character from Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time ; The Thing is a character from Who Goes There? by John W. Campbell.

IT image courtesy of ShutterStock. The Thing image is from the original book art.

Cage Match fans: We are looking forward to hearing your responses! If possible, please abstain from including potential spoilers about the books in your comments (and if you need spoilers to make your case, start your comments with: “SPOILER ALERT!”

Thanks!

[bookishmatt]

Cage Match 2013 Round 1: The Thing vs. The Invisible Man

(Originally posted on the since-retired Suvudu.com on March 4, 2013)

The Contestants

The Thing

Who Goes There? by John W. Campbell

Age: At least 20,000 years

Race: Shapeshifting, body-infiltrating extraterrestrial

Weapons / Artifacts: Transforms its appendages into any weapon of its choosing

Special Attack: Renders men insane with future dream vision

Advantages

Telepathic

Can completely become any living organic form that it enters

Scientific knowledge beyond human comprehension

Disadvantages

Won’t attack in the open for fear of outing itself

Self-preserving tissue can reveal true nature by reflexively recoiling from danger

Appears to be incapable of becoming any form from memory for more than an instant

Griffin, The Invisible Man

The Invisible Man, by H.G. Wells

Age: Early 30s

Race: Human

Weapons / Artifacts: Whatever he can get a hold of

Special Attack: Flying knee to the chest

Advantages

Invisible

Exceptionally strong

Doesn’t fear being naked in public

Disadvantages

Extremely short-tempered to the point of recklessness

Probably (definitely) insane

Sneezes at inopportune times

Can’t make weapons invisible

Too trusting

But that’s just one account of the events leading up to the abrupt end of Griffin’s mad reign. Though it sounds madder yet to even put it to words, the account that the majority of us have accepted as truth is the most cogent way to explain that terrifying day.

Mind you, even with nearly the entire town of Port Burdock on the hunt for – and indeed, truly believing in the existence of – an invisible man gone mad with power, we discerning folk have our limits for what we’re willing to accept. Which is to say that not everyone remembers the downfall of The Invisible Man in precisely the same way. For the sake of full disclosure, I’ve included one extra chapter for you, dear discerning reader, and ask that you please maintain an open mind for what I am about to tell you, though I too have my doubts.

Dutifully, our townsfolk barricaded their doors, locked up their windows, and nervously awaited for starvation and nature to ravish our invisible would-be tyrant. Dutifully, everyone waited and trusted their good sense to attempt to defeat Griffin, too sensible to venture from their homes and risk a confrontation.

But then, Doctor Kemp had to do a desperate thing and dispatch his housekeeper to the authorities to relay the death promise note from Griffin. What follows next is a bit of my own conjecture based off of the ramblings of one lone housekeeper driven mad with what she is convinced she saw during her attempts to meet with Colonel Adye. But as this was an extraordinary day, I shall spare no extraordinary account.

Kemp’s servant knew she was being followed – a crunch of gravel here, a breathy swear in the air there – but could no better see her assailant than the rest of us. Looking out from windows, they say, she ran in a blind terror, shooting glances behind her shoulder and trying desperately to escape the unseen.

It is somewhere here during her terrified sprint that she first claims to have seen an albatross slowly circling overhead, as if contemplating descending on her or collapsing in death. An albatross! A seabird never seen in the North Atlantic outside of an encyclopedia. Nothing can convince her that this was a hallucination or another bird of some kind, perhaps an unidentified gull, and her depiction of its flagging flapping is always consistent.

It must have been shortly after that when the servant was assaulted by Griffin, the letter intended for Colonel Adye ripped from her quaking hands, but this almost pales in eerie comparison to the terrible account she gives of the bird; the alleged albatross seemed to twitch and contort violently, its extremities morphing into impossible shapes as it struggled to stay afloat. But the impossible bird seemed to have lost interest in her after witnessing her tangle momentarily with Griffin. It vanished for a time over the rooftops.

Doubly terror-stricken by the bizarreness of two impossible things, the servant dashed madly toward her safe place, back to Doctor Kemp’s house. Alone, the bird seemed to find her vulnerable again and appeared once more overhead, but still kept its distance.

And then an invisible force plowed through her with an angry grunt, cutting a path decidedly toward Kemp’s residence. She sat on the ground a moment, terrified of going back but wanting desperately to warn Kemp. After a moment of fighting with herself, she picked herself up and ran back toward the house.

She was then hailed by a voice, a blessedly non-eerie voice whose origin was visible. She whipped herself around and found Adye in front of her. She stammered her warning of the recent encounter with The Invisible Man, and together they dashed the rest of the way to Kemp’s house.

Adye attempted to enter through the front door, and as he was pleading with the paranoid Kemp on the other side, the servant heard a shuffling nearby. On such high alert, she would have jumped out of her skin at the passing of a cat in the shadows, but she knew full well that this unseen stirring was not feline in origin. She stammered once more that she had to find a place to hide and took off toward the neighboring alley to conceal herself between discarded wooden crates.

Soon, she saw windows being smashed to pieces on the second floor by rocks the size of her head hurling through the air. Though her vision was a bit obscured, she swears to have seen clearly the labored bird thing whoosh into one of the now open windows. Possessed by the mad desire to aid her employer and see her duty through to the end, she climbed atop the crates and tried desperately to position herself in alignment with the smashed window. Through it, she could see the bird perched on the dresser, and could clearly make out a festering wound on its breast, what appeared to be the work of a bullet.

For an instant, she made eye contact with the bird, and it seemed to stare into her soul. It fluttered out of sight suddenly, managing to pull the heavy curtains closed with its movements. Still, she could make out bits of its silhouette from the light of a lantern by the door. She could make out an uncanny and convulsing mass of shapes where the bird had been.

A vase shattered amid the shocks of its convulsions, and soon she could hear Kemp rushing up the stairs, shouting to the closed door of his upstairs bedroom. “Griffin, if you’re in there, I’m not alone! You’re outnumbered!” – an empty threat, as he still hadn’t gathered the wit and nerve necessary to risk opening the front door to allow Adye into the residence.

Kemp must have burst through the door then, given the sounds and confusing shadow play that followed. He must have had a moment of bravery with his poker in hand, ready to swing wildly. He must have felt for a moment that animalistic drive to do anything to survive and flail wildly at his unseen assailant. But then, he must have been felled too quickly by the transforming bird thing to even utter a sound, because the fight was over in a flash of impossible shadows.

And yet, as the servant tells it, a completely unexpected silhouette appeared through the curtains a moment later: the sure shape of Kemp himself. Later, no one found any trace of an albatross or of anything else having been in that room during that moment in time.

You know the rest of the story. The Invisible Man was taken down by the vigilante townspeople, rendered visible once more upon his death. You know that Doctor Kemp, despite staring death in its invisible face, survived this encounter.

But what you or I don’t know and, indeed, may never know, is if the rants and ravings of Kemp’s house servant – committed to the county ward on Kemp’s own request – insisting that her employer had become some kind of thing weren’t so mad after all. But there is one thing I know with certainty: Extraordinary things don’t have to be seen to be believed

Predicted Winner: The Thing

NOTE: THIS MATCH ENDS ON WEDNESDAY, March 6th, 2013, AT 5 PM, EST

Check out the 2013 Bracket

Check all previous Cage Match 2013 posts

The Thing is a character from Who Goes There? by John W. Campbell; The Invisible Man is a character from The Invisible Man by H.G. Wells.

The Thing image is from the original book art. The Invisible Man image courtesy of Lanzie/DeviantArt.

Cage Match fans: We are looking forward to hearing your responses! If possible, please abstain from including potential spoilers about the books in your comments (and if you need spoilers to make your case, start your comments with: “SPOILER ALERT!”

Thanks!

[bookishmatt]

The Future of Fourplay Show

I’m happy to announce that the 10-month long trial period in which I auditioned friends and assessed their local multiplayer gaming skills to be regulars for the show has resulted in my gathering a team I can reliably beat and continue to keep my ego inflated:

• Emma Larkins

• Alyssa Menes

• Andy Webb 

• Victoria McNally

• EJ Baker

• Matt Dunnam

Yes, after attempting to beat every geek in New York, my ego has reached maximum inflation. But really now: I wanted to find a way to be inclusive to every geek who inspired me and I’ve managed to lure over 60 individuals into my home for drinks and furtive knee-on-knee touching with very little preference for guests—a success, right? Well, scheduling 3 new guests every single week has many side effects, chief among which are A) knowing entirely too many people but not having the time to be close to any of them and having overall dependability suffer and B) becoming increasingly jaded with all of my friends by the hassle of last minute cancellations and not wanting to bother at all with local multiplayer.

The excitement I used to feel for upcoming episodes began to be replaced by dread as, statistically speaking, I braced myself for a 1 in 6 last-minute-cancellation possibility, which kind of ruins the whole pun of the show if only 3 people show up (not to mention my frequent arguments that local multiplayer gaming nights are super practical and how dare you imply otherwise). I started to keep two backups handy, but who wants to be a backup? That’s like being someone’s second favorite action figure.

To make a long and complicated matter brief: I’ve narrowed my pool of Fourplay participants to 6 to make Fourplay fun again and to improve the quality of my relationships. This should also result in you, the audience, developing a stronger relationship with a regular cast (aka, underdogs to root for [no one roots for me]).

I want for you to feel like you don’t have to relearn the show every episode, and this will also be reflected in the way that I pick games going forward. I’m still in a period of experimentation, but featuring one game for the month (for instance, in June it was all Duck Game all the time) is a model I’d like to stick with, while still exploring other local multiplayer-esque games with online play during the week. I’ll also be giving triple-A games serious consideration, though this has been more of a budget concern and less of a “selling out” concern.

So here’s a brief review and some other notes from recent major show changes:

• Starting in July, Fourplay will feature 7 regulars including myself

• The show will now air from 9 to 11 EST, every other Monday

• Games that aren’t also accessible to the public and/or aren’t near launching publicly will no longer be featured on the show

• We won’t necessarily be switching up which game we play every episode

• Higher profile games will be considered if they fit thematically

When I’m not on the couch, I’ll still be looking for opportunities to promote and work with other local multiplayer efforts in the city. I’ll be broadcasting Kickstarter’s first major Killer Queen tournament on July 23rd, for instance! You’ll occasionally find me Periscoping gaming events from @BookishMatt, too.

I hope to see you in the Twitch chat as we play live on FourplayShow! Don’t forget to subscribe and opt into alerts so you know when we’re live. And, while you’re at it, give us a like on Facebook, too.

Locally yours,

Matt

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Deathmatch By Audio: The Underground Crystal Brawl And Field-1 Tournament

Concealed in an old warehouse through an unassuming, unlabeled metal door, local multiplayer magic happened on December 7th, 2013.

Death by Audio, a Williamsburg indie music venue mere steps away from a previous Babycastles installation, played host to the arcade cabinets of two competitive local multiplayer gems from New York City devs, the fantasy sports game, Crystal Brawl, and the minimalist hockey-like game, Field-1.

Two single elimination tournaments were held on that below-freezing night, the soundtrack was a supplied by thrumming bass-heavy laptop-DJ known as Maxecho. Deathmatch by Audio, they called it. Thankfully, there was someone smoking outside the venue, or else my wife and I would have had to try every door on the grungy block.

“Is this Death by Audio?” I asked the tall, slenderman slender man leaning against the brick wall.

“…my wife was concerned that these games would be above her skill level. How wrong she was.”

“Oh, yeah, right through this door.” He eagerly opened it part way for us, and we dashed out of the bitter cold winds. A chalkboard sign immediately confirmed that we’d come to the right place. It read: “TONIGHT: FREE DIY ARCADE INSTALL! 5-8 PM!”

A bouncer confirmed our drinking legality, scribbled circles on our wrists and ushered us along a dark hallway that wouldn’t be out of place in Outlast. We pushed past a dirty sheet hanging between the hallway and what can only be described as an acid-fueled mural haven, nightmare creatures melting into one another.

Yelp reviews exclaimed, “AVOID THE BATHROOMS AT ALL COSTS.” It was that sort of venue, somehow the perfect place for an indie sports game tournament. I cracked a smile, taking it all in. Where else but here?

After much online stalking, I met Ben Serviss of Studio Mercato, responsible for Crystal Brawl. A co-founder and key player of this event, Ben is a trumpeter of NYC indie goings-on, rallying gaming cultural events and writing fervently on his blog about development. He rallied everyone to register their two-person teams on the poster board.

I asked my wife to join a team with me, and she declined. Having not grown up with video games, my wife was concerned that these games would be above her skill level. How wrong she was.

Persistently, I encouraged her to try the Crystal Brawl arcade machine. We took our station, and, soon after, another couple wandered onto the set, also never having played before.

Scrolling through the characters (Rogue, Wizard, Knight, Archer), she settled on the Knight, noting that this would be closest to her Diablo 3 experience, where she played a Barbarian. Ever the griefer, I chose the (“Tricksy”) Rogue. We began.

While I planted trees around the opponent’s base, my wife used her dash attack to quickly get to the ball, immediately getting the hang of the game and mastering the two primary buttons while the other team struggled to get their bearings straight. It was over almost before it even started, and we quickly secured a 3-0 victory. She looked at the victory screen, a grin spreading over her face.

“Let’s play again!” she said, the other team agreeing emphatically as they vowed to redeem themselves, having only just learned the controls for the first time. This time, there was some back-and-forth as we exchanged blows for possession of the ball, weaving in and out of burning trees, but we again swept the field. At the end of three games, I asked my wife again if she would join a team with me.

“Okay,” she agreed, “let’s do it.”

But before we signed up, we hopped over to Field-1, mirroring our experience almost exactly. Strangers wandered to the controllers, couples among them, and we piloted our players to victory with all the grace of figure skaters wearing giant hockey puck costumes.

Bashing aggressively into hapless players, we found easy victories in the stripped-down hockey sim. Team Stormageddon (Dark Lord of All) was formed.

“We’re going to win the whole thing. Both games.” I was surprised to find it wasn’t me who said this.

The venue swelled with bearded twenty-something gaming enthusiasts and a smattering of ladies. We were called first round to compete in Crystal Brawl. Sticking to our Rogue/Knight combo, we secured an easy 3-0 victory round 1.

“We’re going to win the whole thing. Both games.” I was surprised to find it wasn’t me who said this. Rather, it was my wife. So we were both surprised to find ourselves lose handily in our first round of Field-1, learning the lesson that we actually didn’t even know how to play in our practice rounds and just sort of got lucky. It wasn’t until right before our defeat that we started to get a grasp on the strategy and appreciation for the deceptive simplicity of the game.

But nevertheless, like any sport, we had fun spectating. So many of the games were close, the timer adding drama and urgency to score. Cheers. Applause. Excitement all around. This was history in the making.

Our next two matches in Crystal Brawl were easy victories as well. My passive-griefing combined with my wife’s ultra-aggressive playstyle served as the perfect compliment, genuinely surprising opponents who seemed otherwise more in-sync, more determined to space their attacks in manners that would keep us perma-stunned. And yet we got back on our feet and scored with such assured vigor, making it all the way to the finals.

Our opponents chose a Rogue/Wizard combo, something we’d yet to see, and this time, it was us who were surprised; though the Rogue mirrored my every move in planting trees to bar our path, it was the Wizard’s freezing of the trees that really funneled the ball in the direction of their choosing. Too busy battling for the ball to break through the icy trees, we lost footing early, struggling to keep the ball away from our opponent’s goal. At 2-2, our opponent just managed to sneak through my dense forest for their first win.

As this was best of three, we felt good about our odds. We took an early lead, this time both my wife and I playing offense, wasting no time to move the ball towards our goal. But like the previous match, our opponents set up icy walls, barring our path and taking control of the direction of the game.

After intense back-and-forth, the growing crowd cheering on both teams in this dramatic match, we found ourselves once again tied 2-2. And then I made a grave mistake. I had an opening, but was milliseconds away from getting hit. I tried to kick the ball towards our goal so I could counter-attack and move the ball far from the opponent’s goal, but my aim was off by a single pixel, and I blasted it right into the mountain, allowing the opposing team access to the ball. Just two hexagons away from their goal, we changed possession at least five times, the crowd roaring — but we lost it, and team Toasty Ghost scored their final goal.

“Could a tournament-fueled, indie, NYC, local multiplayer arcade be on the horizon?”

We were so energized by the thrill of the game and how well we’d done, accolades flew fast and true. Handshakes, congrats all around. With no entry fee and nothing on the line, everyone in attendance was a freaking winner. Oblivious to the tournament, a huge crowd was still formed around the Crystal Brawl arcade machine, their own cheers and screams of excitement filling the venue.

A week from now, arcade cabinets for Killer Queen Arcade and SlashDash are going to be featured at the Museum of the Moving Image for several months, two of the all-stars ofIndieCade 2013. Babycastles is fundraising for a gallery space. Could a tournament-fueled, indie, NYC, local multiplayer arcade be on the horizon? I would pay good money for that, and Babycastles is banking on it.

These are exciting times for local multiplayer enthusiasts, especially considering how brilliantly accessible these games are, and yet they have such impressive depth, so many emergent strategies, so much gratifying teamwork. These are true arcade classics, the shot in the arm the arcade scene so desperately needed. Let’s get together and play, shall we?

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