It Drinks Light: The Origins of the Xenomorph and LoadingReadyRun's Heat Death
In previous drafts of this essay I spent paragraphs outlining my love of the Alien films, defending Alien 3 and Resurrection, and using that to lead into why you would enjoy an Alien RPG actual play series called Heat Death. But I just spent a lot of money on a tattoo that I think will speak to my bona fides:
I like the Alien franchise. I like Geiger’s xenomorph, I like the clunky cassette futurism imagined in those 80’s movies. It feels increasingly like a much needed antidote to modern digital interfaces, and the maddeningly undefiled aesthetics of the corporate digital age.
But after I saw Prometheus and then Covenant it became very apparent to me that Ridley Scott isn’t interested in the parts of the universe that I am interested in. Or at least, his answers to those questions aren’t particularly satisfying.
There are some good things in those movies, don’t get me wrong. The moment when the two Michael Fassbenders have flute lessons is some of the gayest shit in the series, right alongside Ripley and Call having come good ol’ fashioned knife play in Resurrection.
The prequels also continue the theme established in the first few movies that the whims of the rich and powerful will doom us all in general, and the people who work for them specifically. Their corporations are shown time and again to be fundamentally opposed to human flourishing. True as it ever was.
But that’s kinda it for me.
The question at the heart of these prequels is “Where did the xenomorph come from?” to which they answer:
Some sort of chemical weapon or tool synthesized by tall aliens called engineers for ambiguous purposes. Millenia later this was discovered and hijacked by a singular android of human design, flawed in all the ways its creator was flawed. Some iterations and experiments later we get the xenomorphs we recognize.
Admittedly there may be more nuance than that. But as far as I can tell any further details are all muddled in cut content and unskilled storytelling.
Ultimately, according to the prequels thus far, the xenomorph is something we did to ourselves.
That is not a particularly engaging answer to me. I don’t really care about how the titular alien came to be. I don’t need to see the engineers, or the origins of the space jockey. I liked it when it felt like that tall alien was merged with the cockpit, when it looked like one organism, a new and novel form of life from another evolutionary path completely unlike our own.
And if you feel the same, I have something to recommend to you.
Heat Death is an actual play series made by the Canadian comedy/streaming troupe LoadingReadyRun in 2020 as part of their Dice Friends series. They did 6 episodes where Cameron, the GM, leads 4 players through their own scenario in the official Alien RPG.
And it’s one of the best Alien stories I’ve ever seen.
Cameron provides much more interesting answers to the questions Ridley Scott keeps asking, and in a method that compliments the familiar set up of Alien films. A typical day in the life of spacers is interrupted by a combination of corporate malfeasance and/or the existence of the xenomorph.
The setup of Heat Death is thus: The crew of the research vessel Ludomia, our PC’s and NPC’s for the series, wake up on a strange and grandiose space station called New Eden. Their vessel is missing, the rest of their crew is missing, and they have no idea where they are. They seek answers, they seek escape, and they try to figure out what was happening here hidden in the shadows of space.
And in typical Alien fashion, it all goes to hell.
Part of the reason the series works so well for me is because the GM has a background in the sciences. This helps when the characters are confronted with the truly alien things they find. I am an amateur appreciator of things like biology and astronomy ,and so there is just enough detail to make me feel like I know what’s happening, but also enough unfamiliar jargon that I feel an appropriate sense of awe and dread. Cameron doesn’t talk down to his audience or his players, he describes the world in ways that would make sense to the character’s point of view, and offers explanations and details when prompted.
The xenomorph’s biology is described as being reminiscent of Teflon, an immediately startling non sequitur.
The primordial black goo from the prequels is described as incredibly hazardous to human beings through exacting technical terminology. It makes it seem real and dangerous. In the prequels it always felt flat and… out of place.
I like Heat Death because Cameron and the players are actively investigating the question of the origins of the xenomorph without limiting the possibility space. It’s not a closed loop that begins and ends at LV-426 with the space jockey and its ship. Instead we see a possible answer to what is waiting for us in the stars, a galactic ecology that we have stumbled into and are ill-equipped to handle. It makes the machinations of Weyland-Yutani seem even more feeble and doomed.
It also works so well because the players are all in on it. They lean into the themes of the franchise, of roughnecks who shoot first, of commanders in over their head, and corporate representatives quietly manipulating things to their own end. There’s no power gaming or looking to get the upper hand or finding an optimal path to survival. They see the awfulness coming and they don’t look away.
There’s more that I could recommend about this series, but I run the risk of giving away too much. There’s the poetic introductions to each episode that give breadth to the fiction. The investigations of different bits of lore and tech, from faster than light travel to how synthetics work. But I guess I’ll end by going over all the players and their characters.
First there’s Commander Roman Moritaka, played by Ian, who I think more than anyone leans into the doomed nature of the storytelling. Ian is always ready to make the obvious mistake and try to do the most reasonable thing in an unreasonable situation. One of my favourite moments in the game comes from Roman making telemetry calculations. How many AP’s do you know that bother with the drama of rocket science?
Then there’s Clinton Barker played by Alex, a colonial marine who thinks in equipment and utility, and has no time for metaphor or theory. Alex is also obviously an Alien fan and someone who knows military tech and lingo, which lets him launch into interesting asides and funny anecdotes that punctuate the story.
There’s Gregory Sinclair Jr., the corporate liaison played by Cori. He is a perfect mix of uselessness and cold corporate comfort. Cori plays him relentlessly, a perfectly willing pawn right into the final moments of the final episode, and a constant needle in everyone’s side.
And then there’s Harris Schafer, played by Adam. Harris is a laid back academic and scientist, which makes them a great foil for the other characters and the perfect POV character to let us know just how bad things are, much like Adam himself. Adam is a great addition to the table, always willing to ask the basic questions and react in relatable ways.
I’ve already mentioned Cameron, and as GM he plays all the NPC’s with depth, and deftly cuts between scenes, heightening moments of tension and underlining moments of impending dread. His obvious writing ability is on full display. It feels like he loves this stuff. And in a way that Ridley Scott kinda doesn’t. Not in the same way. There’s curiosity and time and thought on display here, and I really appreciate that.
And that’s it. You should watch it, especially if you like the alien series and the art of actual play. It’s good. It’s on Youtube and it’s on podcasts. Check it out. Let me know what you think. Recommend me some other Alien fanfiction.
And if you would have liked to have read this earlier, or would like more essays and stuff like this, kick me a couple of bucks on Patreon. If folks like this sort of thing, I may do more essays. Heck, I'll probably do them if you hate it.
