Hey guys,
So, here is fifteen minutes of test footage for Joanna VR which you can (hopefully) watch either in your browser or on your phone. Give it a look and let me know what you think. Don’t forget, the Movie Deathmatch kicks off on Monday 23rd of November (Yes I got the date wrong originally, thanks to Nat for pointing that out).
See ya soon!
This is, as the title should indicate, a big important post. Don’t worry. It’s not a “we need to talk” post, or an “I just spoke to the Doctor” post. It’s a cool one. An exciting one. It’s also one that is a little difficult to know where to begin. Firstly, you need to know about a person and you need to know about a thing. The person is this guy:
That guy is Doctor Abraham Campbell (Abey to his friends). Abey is a computer scientist currently lecturing in University College Dublin’s Chinese school in Beijing (UCD has a big campus) and probably Ireland’s foremost mind in the field of virtual reality. He’s also a buddy of mine. That’s the person. The thing is this:
In case you haven’t heard of it, that’s the Oculus Rift, the first real, high-quality, no-fooling, virtual-reality headset that is going to be commercially available for sale in early 2016. Now, there’s no way of knowing whether Virtual Reality is going to be just a weird little technological gimmick or a game changer like the smartphone. But we’re going to find out. Soon. This is happening. Abey, who incidentally is the smartest human I know by a significant margin, is betting on the latter. His goal, as he’s told me before, is that one day he’ll be able to hand a headset to someone in Sub-Saharan Africa that will contain an entire third level education. He’s also working on a holographic version of himself that he can broadcast to China so that he doesn’t have to leave home to teach his classes and yeah, I’m just going to play the music now.
So, why am I telling you all this? Well, because there’s no point in buying a SNES if there’s no Super Mario to play on it. The platform needs media.
Last year, the readers of this blog helped to fund Joanna, my play about a vigilante who savagely murders rapists as an avatar of the breakdown of civilized society caused by the betrayal of the social contract inherent in the justice system’s complete impotence in dealing with the crime of rape (It’s a comedy). One of the people who saw that play was Abey, and he approached me with an extremely exciting idea. Short version:
We’re turning Joanna into the world’s first full-length, mature virtual reality film.
This is potentially historic. This could, quite literally, be The Jazz Singer of the Virtual Reality era.
…
This could, quite literally, be the Steamboat Willy of the Virtual Reality era.
Much better.
Throughout the summer Abey, myself, our extremely talented cast and crew and our director Jeda De Brí have been shooting tests scenes and experimenting with how this whole thing works. I’ll be doing follow up posts where I talk about the challenges of filming in 360 degrees and what we’ve learnt but the short version is this; we are now ready to create something that is thrilling, terrifying, and totally unlike anything else you’ve ever seen. And what’s more, you won’t need an Oculus Rift to view it (although that will certainly give you the best experience). With a decent smartphone and headset you will be able to experience Joanna for yourself. How do you get a headset? I’m getting to it (told you this was a long post). Below you can see our Kickstarter video. The Kickstarter page hasn’t gone live yet so you guys are actually the first outside of the production to see this. (Oh, and there’s some guy we hired to stand in for me because Abey thought that anti-rodent prejudice might affect our ability to raise money and like a coward I listened).
Abey, Jeda, myself and our associated henchpersons have set up a Kickstarter page so that you can give us your money to fund this exciting endeavour. For as the Bible says, is money not the root of all evil? Better off without it, I say, we’ll take care of it for ya. And, as is customary, we will be offering rewards for donations. These are cumulative, with a new reward added to each level which I’ve put in bold. They are as follows:
Summit like this.
Snazzy. As. Bejaysus.
***
So yes. I’m asking you for money. And as usual, that can only mean one thing:
MOVIE DEATHMATCH!
On November 23 when the Kickstarter page goes up, I will post the 12 movies and TV series that have been selected to compete this year, along with a guide as to how voting will work this year so be sure to check in for that.
So. Yeah. I know it’s all a lot to take in. Also, please share this far and wide. Know somebody who’s interested in VR? This is a really inexpensive way to get their hands on some cutting edge tech, so let them know. Know someone who’s big into gritty female-led drama? This might be for them. Please help us get the word out make this as big as it can be. Any questions, let me know.
Thanks guys, Mouse out.
CHAPTER 8: SURGERY
She lay on the table, arms splayed, her breathing shallow.
“Mistress Angela.” one of the students whispered.
Angela turned to look. The student was pointing to Marie’s chest.
There was a bulge, visible now even beneath the fabric of her blouse, a protrusion in the middle of her chest that seemed to grow visibly.
“There’s something inside her.” Angela whispered.
The “customers” were now slinking one by one out of the cellar. They were all like Gameral, bald and wretched looking.
“Mistress.” another student whispered to her “What are they?”
“Devils.” she said simply.
“Actually.” Gameral purred as he approached the table “We dislike the term “devil”. It’s so generic. We are the Rikitatae-el-Goli, the people of envy, the ninth legion.”
“Imps.” said Angela.
“Indeed yes.” said Gameral “And how is the lady Angela? Returned many sheep to the fold, as it were? I must enroll in your school one of these days. As you know, my people are always looking for a way to return to Heaven…”
“We’re full.” said Angela coldly.
“Yes. I’m sure.” Gameral sneered “I’m sure they’re breaking down the doors for the chance to repent and face their sins. You know, I have been coming to this city for a very long time now. And each time, it only gets bigger.”
There was a hideous sniffing laughter from the clump of imps in the corner.
“Gameral.” said Hoss “The girl?”
“Ah yes, yes, your little…”
Gameral stopped dead as he saw Marie.
“Oh…my…” he breathed.
There was a rustling as the other imps flocked around the table to get a better view, they hissed and spluttered incredulously and began conversing in their own language, which sounded like snakes writhing in acid.
(DISCLAIMER: This blog is not for profit. All images and footage used below are property of their respective companies unless stated otherwise. I do not claim ownership of this material. New to the blog? Start at the start with Snow White.)
It’s less impressive when you realise that “Asia” was just a chunk of Turkey back then.
“Ugh. Is this some kind of joke? I thought you were going to review one of my good films?”
“But…everyone loves Anastasia! It’s one of your most critically beloved movies! It made the most money of all of your films!”
“UGH. Yeah. And google it and see what comes up.”
Ooooh…that’s gotta hoirt.
“Fox asked me to make a Disney princess movie. I was desperate for the cash so I sold out. How was I supposed to make a good movie under those circumstances?”
“UGH.”
Okay, so, I know I said there was a big post coming today but it looks like I may have jumped the gun a little.
The big post will now be going up on November 16th.
To forment hype and speculation, here is a picture of Kylo Ren.
What does the post have to do with Star Wars? Nothing. Nothing at all.
Or does it?
No.
Get hyped anyway.
CHAPTER 7: THE CUSTOMERS
She was awake and she was screaming.
In the darkness she tried to marshal her thoughts. Why was she screaming?
Not a dream, she didn’t have those anymore.
She felt like hot lead was being poured on her chest.
The pain had gotten worse while she had been sleeping.
It had gotten steadily more painful since her arrival in the City, and that had been four days ago. Now, it felt like it was killing her. Whimpering, she stumbled out of bed and felt her way down the corridor. Through a skylight over her head she could see the sky. It was early morning judging by the slightly lighter shade of grey. She did not know what made day or night pass in this place. It had been a long time since she had seen a sun.
The pain was now so bad it almost felt like her feet weren’t touching the ground, like she was being suspended in the air by a swarm of stinging hornets. Angela will know what to do, she has to.
There was a ball of fire in her chest.
She struggled on down the corridor, and came to the top of the stairs.
Her legs gave out and she tripped, rolling down the stair way, bruising her stomach and back on the hard wooden steps one after the other until she came to rest on the grey stone floor.
She lay there in the pale morning half-light, limp as a rag doll, unable even to move.
“Do not turn your back to the guilt. Do not push it away. Do not try to protect yourself from it. Guilt is the pain of the soul. It is the bleeding scar tissue left by your sin. It wants to hurt you. “
Angela’s clipped voice could be heard in the furthest corner of the hall, it cut into the last dusty grey nook in the rafters.
“Let it.” she said simply.
While you enjoy your “candy” and chortle at hokey horror movies and generally have a grand old time spare a thought, won’t you, for us here in Ireland as we cower in UTTER TERROR as the Dagda withdraws his protection and every foul dead and demonic thing swarms through the open sidhe to prey on our terrified populace as happens every Samhain. No. No. Enjoy your “trick or treats” (for us, there is only “trick”. Only ever “trick”.) Listen to “The Monster Mash” as we cover our ears from the mind-shattering screams of the banshee. Have fun carving your pumpkin Jack O’Lanterns.
See this? It’s a medieval Irish Jack O’Lantern. It’s carved from a turnip. Lower your ear to its mouth, and it will tell you the hour of your death.
But anyway, I have briefly left the safety of the Samhain bunker to let you know that there is a BIG update coming on the 8th of November. Something really cool. Something I can’t talk about yet. But it’s big. Or it will be, if I survive. OH CRAP I’VE BEEN SEEN!
“THERE YOU ARE! OH MAN, I LOVE THIS TIME OF YEAR!”
“Please! Let me live! Take one of the continents!”
“”ONE OF”? SORRY BUDDY, I ALREADY FUSED THEM INTO ONE MASSIVE CONTINENT FOR MY OWN TWISTED AMUSEMENT!”
“MOOOUSSE…HELP…US…”
“God I hate Halloween.”
CHAPTER 6: THE STOOP-BACKED CITY
They drove for what felt like miles until finally the city began to shade the horizon, slowly becoming darker and more solid.
“Who built this place?” Marie whispered, and you had to whisper.
“No one knows.” said Angela “It was always here.”
And it looked like it had always been there. The houses looked like ruins in the jungle look, as if they are part of the trees and the vines, as if they too are of the forest and not made by man. They looked as if they had been grown, as if the bricks and mud and mortar had slowly pushed their way out of the ground and come to rest. No two were alike, some leaned left and some right. As they drove through the streets she saw that there were quite a number of people out, but they looked fewer, because everyone kept their distance from each other. Nobody walked in pairs, and everyone walked hunched and with their eyes downward cast, stark against the pale walls of the silent, grave-like houses.
Marie felt a shudder pass through her, and the walls on either side of the street seemed to cave in a little closer. She sat back in her seat and closed her eyes, and felt for her comb.
If you could, for a moment, be whisked away from home and stand in any street of the city, you would at first be struck by the horrible, unbreakable greyness of the place. The buildings were as grey as the sand which was as grey as the people which was as grey as the sky which was as grey as the buildings…and on and on it went in a never ending cycle of dullness and despair. But after a few minutes you would begin to feel a horrible sensation that you had been here before. Those grim, rainy Thursdays. Those winter vigils at inner city bus stops with the sky hanging like an iron dome overhead. For purgatory is little more than life played again, a repeat of the main feature. Only now the jokes have been done to death, the twists can be seen a mile off, the characters irritate through familiarity and anything that once was new has now been seen a million times before.
The truck finally shuddered to a halt and there was a silence.
(DISCLAIMER: This blog is not for profit. All images and footage used below are property of their respective companies unless stated otherwise. I do not claim ownership of this material. New to the blog? Start at the start with Snow White.)
I’ve got a lot of love for Roald Dahl, even if he was a bit of an unpleasant cuss. He taught me how to read, after all. When I was around four or five years old I was taken to Temple Street children’s hospital for one of my periodic lung re-inflations (I had asthma and smog in Dublin in the eighties was so thick you could chip your teeth on it). While waiting to be seen I picked up a copy of The Magic Finger, which I remember being the first book I ever read through from beginning to end. Dahl was huge when I was growing up. He was our JK Rowling. That probably says something about us, but then again, I think it’s often overstated just how violent and horrifying his stories were. I mean, sure, they were violent and horrifying, but it was all a matter of tone. Roald Dahl was like Rebecca Black, he sounded a lot worse than he actually was. A plot description The BFG or The Witches is arguably more horrific than the books themselves. Roald Dahl took horror and made it so ridiculous and luridly over the top that you couldn’t help but laugh at it. In doing so, he made our terrors ridiculous. I think that’s why so many children loved his work, even nervous kids like me. Roald Dahl didn’t make us feel scared. He made us feel brave.
With the same story at both poles, oddly enough.
Would you like to play a game?
CHAPTER 5: THE BLACK SCORPION
I am not weak, thought Mabus.
I am strong, and Hell has made me so.
As he stood on the balcony of the Chamber gazing out at his city he gripped the railing and felt the solid stones beneath his feet. I am solid, he thought. I am durable. I am not a wet lump of tissue and nerve endings bottled in a glass womb, I am free. I am whole. I am strong.
And Hell has made me so.
“Master?”
Mabus turned to Groethuis.
“Forgive me Doctor.” he said “I was somewhere else.”
“Where, if I might be so bold to ask?”
“Out there.” he said, stretching a spindle-like finger out to where the line of the storm broke and blurred the red horizon. “He’s out there waiting for us. Out there is Dis, the infernal city. Pandaemonium, where the devils hold council in golden chambers. Out there is Caina, Antenora, Ptolomea…Out there is Judecca. Out there is the Black Throne. And out there…”
He paused.
“Out there is a little girl looking for her father.”
He fell silent.
unshavedmouse 