JRC-1138 (moif's primary blog)

Polish TKS tankettes

2012-01-29T17:55:00.008+01:00

I recently came across Warlord Games Polish vehicles and guns page where upon are TKS Tankettes for only £10 a piece. A bargain I thought since I didn't have any tankettes and immediately ordered two of them. Until that decision, I had never felt any but a passing interest in tankettes and if pressed I would only have been able to name one; the Carden Lloyd. My interest was piqued when I discovered the TK tankettes could be made with a 20mm anti-tank gun and then suddenly a whole range of options presented themselves.

The Poles were big on tankettes, and built 575 of the TK series, which was heavily based on the Carden Lloyd. These included a number of interesting variants, including gun tractors, tankettes with turrets and a tank destroyer armed with a 47mm gun (see photograph directly above). Unfortunately only four of those tank destroyers were made, so I have to make do with my two TKS tank destroyer tankettes. Thats okay though. I am in love with these diminuitive monsters having read up on their history. The Poles had planned four cannon armed units in every squadron (of thirteen tankettes), but production was interupted by the German invasion in 1939 and in the event, only twenty four were in actual service. Only a few cannon armed tankettes saw any action but of these, one really stands out. Officer Cadet Roman Orlik led a two tankette attack against a German panzer formation on 14th September, 1939.

Orlik, who survived the war, later recounted his experience and drew several maps to explain what had taken place. In the first encounter, as shown in the image above, Orlik (who already had three Panzer kills to his credit) and his unit lay in ambush in an orchard. When three German panzers from Panzer-Regiment 11 of the 1st Leichte-Division came into sight, they took them out, firing into the German's flanks. The destroyed tanks were two Panzerkampfwagen 35(t)'s and a Panzerkampfwagen IV. The latter being commanded by a notable German aristocrat named Prinz Victor IV Albrecht von Ratibor, who was killed. The image below shows his tank

I'm actually surprised that a 20mm gun could take out a Panzer IV, but the gun in question, the Nkm wz. 38 FK, had been designed and built by the Poles for exactly this kind of tactic. The TKS being both small and agile, was extremely difficult to see too and the Germans probably never saw the Poles before they'd been defeated. The Nkm wz. 38 FK was an automatic cannon with a five round magazine and I wonder how many hits it took to destroy von Ratibor's tank. The damage seems extensive; the rounds appear to have gone right through.

The next day saw Orlik back in action taking on Panzer-Abteilung 65 of Panzer-Regiment 11. The second map shows how Orlik with only on other tankette from his unit (71. Armoured Dyon of Wielkopolska Cavalry Brigade), once again, defeated the 'superior German Panzers' using a series of well placed flanking shots. If you examine the drawing you can see the irony in the German advance, for they turned aside from the Poles, and exposed their weaker side armour. I wonder if they hadn't noticed the tankettes, with their low silhouettes, at all. Of the seven defeated German tanks, six are described as Panzer 35(t)'s. I don't now what the last one was, but it may have been a Panzer II or IV. The Germans lost a total of thirty eight tanks that day, and Panzer-Abteilung 65 was annhilated. Roman Orlik and his tankette went on to break through to Warsaw to help in the defence until Poland surrendered. In just a few days, he'd defeated thrteen Panzers in his tiny TKS and become Poland's first (and possibly only) tank ace of the war. Thats not too shabby for a fighting vehicle hardly bigger than a wheel barrow! Orlik was so cool, I think I might have to incorporate him into an RM game one day!

The image below shows you how small a TKS is next to a Panzer IV.

Top speed: 46 km/h
Range: 200 km on road. 100 km off road.
Crew: 2
Length: 2.58 m without the gun
Width: 1.78 m
Weight: 2.6 t
Power plant: 6 Cyl. Polski Fiat 122b (Petrol)
Armour: 4 - 10 mm.
As you can see in the diagrams below, the crew sat on either side of the engine. It must have been nice and warm when the tankette was running, but very cold when they were laying in ambush. The TKS carried 250 AP rounds for the 20mm gun, which comes to fifty magazines. Its not apparent on the diagrams where they stored them, but I'm guessing they were crammed in everywhere possible. Another important detail not shown is the periscope. The TKS were fitted with the Gundlach periscope which would eventually become the standard tank periscope for all the Allied forces as well as the Germans (who stole the idea once they'd realised how good it was).

Smiley's People

2012-01-14T19:55:00.004+01:00

By John Le Carré

Alas, the last of my four Smiley novels turned out to be as uninteresting as the second one and although it was shorter, and probably better written, it never really got my juices flowing. From the purely technical perspective, I suppose, given his background, Le Carré's novels are more realistic than the works of other Cold War authors might be, but frankly, all the subtle realism gets a bit tedious without some alleviating drama every now and again, and reading about Smiley's obsessive reading and cleaning his glasses on his tie end doesn't quite stack up against a good fire fight every so often. Robert Harris it ain't!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snow Falcon

By Craig Thomas

I'd read a couple of Thomas's books back in the late eighties, 'Firefox' and 'Firefox Down', but I couldn't remember what they were really like, and whether nor not I'd liked them even then. Any memory of the novels was eclipsed by the film starring Clint Eastwood.

I decided to buy a couple of Thomas's other novels and see if they held water and this was the first of the two I chose. I suppose I should have been warned by the monotony of the covers as both books feature a MIL-24 on the cover, and perhaps I was feeling a slight apprehension as I had the spectre of Tom Clancy lurking in the back of my mind. 'Snow Falcon' wasn't that bad, but it wasn't much better either. Thomas seems to have had a preoccupation with his character's inner weaknesses for just about every one in this story spends every moment of every day feeling small and weak and scared of the world around them. I feel like that too sometimes, and as a consequence I know what kind of entertainment value it offers; not much. Its okay to reveal a characters weaknesses. Its quite another to obsess about them over the course of a novel. It gets old.

Perhaps this is an aspect of the whole Cold War paranoia thing though? It didn't escape my attention that the main character in 'Snow Falcon', just like George Smiley, was a passive cuckold and perhaps there is some terrible fear of inadequacy lurking at the bottom of the Cold Warrior's mind? Or maybe its just a coincidence. Either way, this novel didn't make for a very entertaining read, and whilst the premise of the book showed some slight promise, the execution was terrible. The idea that the Soviet Union could secretly have staged a crossing in to Finland and the subsequent occupation of a Finnish village, as a pre-invasion dry run, is truly laughable. Even for 1979. When I realised this was what the novel was about, I actually groaned out loud.

The rest of the story was more or less straight forward. There were no real twists or surprises, just a lot of interchangable Russian names and obvious plot progressions. I suppose I expected this, but I was still disapointed.

2012 part deux

2012-01-14T19:53:00.002+01:00

Vilde's tyranny has continued and the advantagous hours of 0600 to 2200 were short lived. Last night she kept us up until 3 am. Finally we drugged her with panodil and were able to get a few hours before the other two went to DEFCON1

2012

2012-01-05T17:40:00.002+01:00

I finally managed to reach a solution with regards to Vilde. I now go to sleep at 2200 each evening and get up at 0600. This cuts down on my ability to work in the evenings and at night, something I've done since I was eighteen, but gives me loads more energy during the day. Its a nice feeling to get up early and have loads of day light, etc, but the truth is, I also feel a bit like a fish out of water. Furthermore, it just feels wrong to paint figures during the day. Figure painting is a hobby and should really be done in the spare time one has during the evening, but when I have nothing more urgent to do, I usually get on with what ever needs doing for my various gaming projects.

As far as I can work out, I've lost roughly two hours of free time, per day, since Vilde was born. Luckily she just started at day care this week, so for the first time in almost a year, I have that free time during the day.

Subsequently I've slowly, but surely been painting my Africans.

RM7.4

2011-12-29T15:19:00.001+01:00

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Four: The Children of Ag Lata

Santiago de Cuba. 0200 hours. 6th March. 1937.

Suddenly the phone rings and Captain De Silva of the City Militia, sitting in his office, staring at the wall, slowly turns his head to regard it with cold grey eyes. With smooth, deliberate movements, he leans across and picks up the receiver.
”Yes?”
”Captain De Silva” the unmistakable, sibilant voice of the Progenitor whispers into his ear.
”Yes.”
”Captain. You must mobilise your men at once”
”Why?”
”The British have traced your sibiling. Even now they close upon him.”
”Where?”
”They are close by. On Pier 9 of the city harbour complex.”
De Silva reaches across his desk and presses a black button. Some where in the depths of the silent station house, a distant bell rings.
”Explain this action to your men. Tell them that American criminals are working to undermine Cuba’s government. Tell them this and they will follow you into battle.”
”As you command” De Silva replies without emotion. He places the receiver on the table and stands as foot steps sound in the corridor.
”Come in” he shouts before the Sergeant has even managed to knock on the door.
”Eh? You called?” Sergeant Mendoza asks as he peers into the dimly lit room.
”Yes. How many men are in the station at this time?”
Mendoza pouts as he thinks, counting on his fingers.
”You, Me, Sergeant Castro and mmmm.... fifteen men... I think”
”Assemble the men at once.”
”Si Capitan!” Mendoza shouts and hurries away.
De Silva picks up the telephone once more.
”Very good” the soft voice says. ”Now listen carefully. You must beware of the British agent who goes by the name of Daniel Mansfield.”
”Why?”
”This man has exceptional powers and I believe he poses a serious threat to our existence.”
”How?”
”The British have technologies far in advance of other men. Technologies even I do not fully comprehend. This man Daniel Mansfield is an agent of forces far more powerful than any we have faced before. He is surely armed accordingly.”
The Captain pauses to consider this insight, but inevitably he shows no sign of concern.
”I will deploy my best weapons”
”As you must for he will not be alone. Other British agents accompany him and a small British war ship lurks nearby. They will almost certainy come to his aid if he should require it.”
”I cannot fight a war ship with the resources I have at hand”
”I understand. You have permission to withdraw if you feel the battle cannot be won, but do not allow your sibling to fall into the hands of the British. They are even more dangerous than the Americans.”
”As you command.”
Captain De Silva puts down the receiver and stands up. He pulls out his side arm and regards it for a moment. Then, unlocking a drawer on his desk, he pulls out the magazine and replaces it with a new magazine from the desk. He regards the weapon for a second then slipping it into the holster, he leaves his office and makes for the station compound where his men are assembling in the pouring rain.
”Sergeant Castro”
”Si Capitan?”
”You will take the armoured car. Sergeant Mendoza will take as many men as he can fit on the truck and I shall take my car.”
Both sergeants salute noisily and rush to follow their orders. De Silva watches his men rushing about the compound and then turns to stare out the main gate to where the harbour lights are dimly visible in the back ground. For a moment he seems to hear the distant crackle of gunfire, but then the armoured car engine barks into life and drowns out all other sounds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PLAYER ONE: OLEG

Rocketman. Dougal. Hamish. Vesper. George Macarthur. Arthur Spencer. Mr Smith. ‘Mad Dog’ Mitchell. Marcel Messnier. Il Conte di Vulcano. Wu Foo.

PLAYER TWO: PALLE

Lt Bambridge. 10 x Royal Navy sailors. Motor Patrol Boat

PLAYER THREE: GOEG

Don Vito Scarlatti. Gloria. Herman Rüling. 5 x Gangsters. 2 x Armoured cultists. Fishing boat captain. Warehouse manager.

PLAYER FOUR: JAN

Captain De Silva. Sgt Mendoza. 12 Militia guards. Sgt Castro in his armoured car

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starting

Chapter four begins with Don Vito’s car swerving to avoid the armoured car and crashing into the Militia truck. In the confusion, Don Vito, Gloria and their driver escape into the Rheinfeldt Shipping building, where from they begin Round One. Herman Rüling comes to a stop behind them, avoiding a crash, but sitting in his car, in some confusion.

All other elements remain where they were at the end of Chapter Three, except those belonging to Player Two, who begin on their boats on the southern edge of the game table, or (in the case of the MPB) either on the opposite table in round one, or at the pier side in round four.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Map

The map is the same as in the previous chapter.

All out door areas are Good, except the sea which is Impassable. The interior of the buildings is Difficult, except in the storage areas which are Rough.
The outer deck areas of the ship are Rough, except the main cargo deck which is Good. The ship interiors are Difficult.
The Fishing boat and the MPB are Difficult.
The crane’s various platforms are Difficult.
Standing on, or climbing over crates is classed as Rough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Victory Conditions

Either side wins automatically by defeating two thirds of the opposing side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Special rules

Rocketman has four Hero Points in this game.

The crane is largely made of cast iron and steel plates and can give +2 cover if used to advantage. Lying on the roof gives +1 and and railings give no cover. Though old and rusty, the crane can also be started and used. It can be driven along its rails and the upper half can turn (at 45° per round). The crane can be disabled (the motor housing is not made of cast iron and can be penetrated by heavy small arms fire).

The warehouse has corrugated iron walls, backed by insulation. This would usually provide meager cover, but due to the packing cases, workshop and interior walls, firing through the building, or targetting elements concealed within, will not work. The warehouse functions as a normal building and gives up to +2 cover.

The plant people get a +2 bonus when shot at due to their physical form. They are not impervious to shock waves, explosions, or even punches. Their armoured uniforms also give them good protection.

All vehicles on the table can be driven, though if the car is being stolen, then a hot wiring roll against 5 must be rolled by any one except the Gangsters, Mad Dog Mitchell, George Macarthur, Mr Smith and Wu Foo who all roll against 4. Hot wiring takes one round, per die roll.

The weather and darkness impose several restrictions. The darkness gives a +2 bonus to any stealthed figure not in the light and any one firing at a target in darkness suffers a -2 penalty. This penalty does not extend to the crane, any targets aboard the merchant ship, the fishing boat or Rocketman in flight, all of which are conspicuous, even in the darkness. The poor weather also counts as Rough for Rocketman in flight.

The MTB has two wooden launches, each capable of moving six elements at a maximum movement in Rough of 4 inches, and providing +1 in cover.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Conclusion

This game was played on Tuesday 6th December. 2011.
Players were Jan, Goeg, Oleg and Palle.

Chapter four took place immediately after chapter three, with reinforcements arriving on behalf of both sides. The game began with Don Vito's car crashing into the front of the Militia truck. Don Vito, Gloria and their driver (all played by Goeg) then ran from the wreck and took cover in the nearby Rheinfeldt Shipping building whilst behind them, the Militia guards (Jan) began to dismount from their vehicles and using them as cover. This proved to be a mistake because it enabled Mr Smith (Oleg) to drop a gas grenade from the vantage point of the merchant ship's superstructure. Six guards were instantly incapacitated and three were suppressed, including Captain De Silva.

The Cubans retaliated with heavy machine gun fire from their armoured car, but were hampered by not being able to see where Mr Smith was hiding. It took some time to finally defeat him, and during this time, the rest of the table top was ablaze with gun fire. Out in the harbour the Royal Navy patrol boat began to engage the gangsters and cultists whilst the two rowing boats of British sailors attempted to disembark. This proved to be as awkward as the gas grenade had been for the Cubans, though not quite as lethal, and it took some time before the sailors were able to get ashore.

Don Vito, Gloria and their driver made their way through the Rheinfeldt Shipping building and entered the storage area of the Sancho & Fernandez building. Here they ran into Wu Foo and a curious fight began with the gangsters finding it difficult to over power the Chinese driver with his martial arts.

During the first half of the game Rocketman was still in flight, having taken off during the previous game, and eventually he landed next to Herman Rüling's car, in between the Rheinfeldt Shipping and Sancho & Fernandez buildings. Seeing this, Captain De Silva immediately ordered his men to grab the flying agent and several Cubans ran forth. Rocketman was well and truly grappled and another heaving fist fight erupted.

Above all this, Arthur Smith had commandeered the crane and turning it to prevent any of the Cubans following him, he then proceeded to drive backwards, destroying the gang way onto the merchant ship.

At the far end of the table, the British sailors eventually forced their way onto the pier and proceeded to attack the AGL buildingwith rifle fire and grenades. The patrol provided covering fire, but largely kept its distance.

Eventually the armoured car managed to bring down Mr Smith and moved to a new firing position in between the Rheinfeldt Shipping and Sancho & Fernandez buildings, looking down along the western edge of the pier. The new position also allowed the armoured car to open fire on Rocketman, if this was necessary, but Daniel Mansfield was over come by sheer numbers and downed after three heroic rounds. The bad guys didn't fare too well either though as inside the Sancho & Fernandez building Wu Foo defeated Don Vito and his driver.

The game ended shortly after this with something of a stalemate Neither side had defeated two thirds of the opposing side and although players one and two came very close, they also lost Rocketman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue

Communication from Kingston Station to GCHQ London. Dated 8th March. 1937.
Marked MOST SECRET.

++AGENT DM AND TEAM SUCCESSFULL++KINGPIN REMOVED++RN UNITS WITHDRAWN++MISSION TERMINATED FROM THIS DATE++8+3+37++DM SLIGHTLY WOUNDED++RETURNING TO BROOKEHURST++

Sir Hugh Sinclair rubs his chin thoughtfully as he sifts through the morning's dispatches and sips from a delicate cup of tea. Across the table from him, sits his wife, Lady Adele Sinclair.
"I say dear" she looks up from her newspaper. "Have you seen this shocking news from Spain?"
Sir Hugh blinks and shakes his head.
"No. Whats happened?"
"Poor Francisco. Those frightful communists have taken him prisoner and are threatening to shoot him!"
"Oh thats too bad" Sir Hugh mutters, returning to his messages briefly before looking absently out the window. "Though it is strange, Franco wasn't supposed to be captured."
"Can't you do something about it? Lady Sinclair asks in a wounded voice. Hettie was so fond of the General, she'll be most upset if they execute him."
"Yes, I suppose she will" Sir Hugh agrees with a mild shrug. "Never mind. One less fascist eh?"
"But is Francisco really such a fascist dear?"
"Oh I think so, yes. He used to get along very well with Herr Hitler you know."
Lady Sinclair purses her lips in disaproval.
"Awful man. Such a frightful bore!"
"Not to worry though" Sinclair brushes a few crumbs from his lap and stands up. "We'll soon be rid of them all."
"Will we dear?"
Sinclair regards his wife's bright green eyes and smiles.
"We will. Joseph Stalin is the only one left now."
Lady Sinclair frowns as her husband leaves the room. The only what she wonders, but she knows better than to pry and returns her attention to the lurid tales of horror in Spain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, Sir Hugh watches as the plane carrying Daniel Mansfield lands at RAF Brookehurst. Standing beside him are Audrey Mansfield and her father Professor Summers.
"There we are now Back safe and sound" the older man smiles at his daughter who nods briefly.
Silently they watch as the aircraft is taxied closer, then as the door hatch opens, Audrey rushes forward to help a some what battered and bruised Daniel Mansfield clambour down the steel ladder.
"My goodness!" She exclaims "What happened to you Darling?"
"Its nothing" Mansfield puts on a playful grin. "Just a few bent ribs and a broken toe. Nothing a little rest and recreation won't mend."
Sir Hugh catches the strain in the younger man's voice and reminds himself that despite his boyish good looks and muscular exterior, Mansfield is already thirty seven years old and his hair is beginning to show the first signs of age.
"Rest and recreation sounds just the ticket Daniel" he agrees. "After all, you've run several strenuous missions in the last few months and its about time you took a breather."
"I'll say!" Audrey mutters.
"Perhaps you should take a holiday?" Sir Hugh suggests.

"A holiday sir?" Daniel looks up sharply and Sir Hugh smiles and shakes his head.
"I meant a real holiday".
"Well..." Mansfield cannot quite hide his disapointment. "My old chum Percy Worthington has invited us to see him in Paris..."
"Paris!?" Audrey squeals in delight.
"...he sent me a telegram just before I left for Florida. Apparently he's showing off some golden treasure he found in Africa. Some historical artefact or other. What do you say George?"
George Macarthur looks up from the baggage and catches the steel glow of Audrey's eye.
"Oh yes Daniel... you should certainly go and see Percy."
"What? Aren't you coming?"
"Er, no... I think I have to go to Bath and visit my mother. I haven't seen the old bird in an age!"
Sir Hugh accompanies Daniel and Audrey to his car. As he climbs in to the comfortable rear compartment, he shakes Mansfield's hand.
"Good job Daniel. Very good, but now you've earned your rest. Give me a bell when you come home, but don't come back until your well enough to fly again."
Daniel Mansfield nods, holding back his impatience.
"I will sir. Good bye"
"Good bye"
The car drives away and Audrey slips her arm around Daniel's waist.
"Paaaris!" she purrs with a cheeky smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Where do I go from here?

2011-12-29T10:05:00.018+01:00

I got to thinking about fantasy last night, whilst I was sitting next to Vilde's bed with my mind a-wandering. About fantasy and science fiction and how I grew to regard them with either suspicion or actual contempt. Since I was nine years old, when I picked up my first novel 'Tarka the Otter' and began to read, I loved flights of fantasy and the voyages of the imagination which one finds in fantasy and science fiction. Today however I tend to view both genres with a negative attitude, born of having read the same stories too many times in too many different interpretations. Eventually the similarities became too obvious to disregard and I lost interest with the majority of sci fi and fantasy novels published in the last two decades. There was too much dross and not enough silver.

'Tarka the Otter' was the first book I read, and looking back on it, was probably my first introduction to dedicated fantasy story telling too. Until then, there had been multiple children's television shows which could be described as fantasy, but in this post I'm thinking of how story telling novels have shaped my mind and I think of television in a mostly visual capacity. 'Tarka the Otter' kicked off a childhood obsession in me for otters, and to this day they retain a small but special place in my heart. It also sparked off a fascination with the 'outsider' characters that proliferate in fanstasy novels and which, as a Danish child growing up in North Western England, in the dreary late 1970's and early 1980's I readily identified with. When I read, and re-read 'The Hobbit' a few years later, I shed a few silent tears when I realised that Bilbo Baggins was not real and that I would never cross mist clad mountains in the strange, fascinating company of Dwarves.

That my life was to be mundane seemed impossible to me in those days, for how could life possibly be mundane? There were mountains to climb, jungles to penetrate and wars to fight. Monsters were real and friends were magical and yet, every so often reality would push its drab monotonous face into view and the fascination of my dream worlds became the horror of mere escapism.

I was thirteen when I discovered the role playing games club at school and by that time, I'd been a dedicated science fiction fan for four years, thanks mostly to a series of weekly science fiction films on television, and to a small but coveted collection of novels I'd gathered from the Boy Scouts charity jumble sale book stall which I had been put in charge of. Amongst these gems was 'Wildeblood's Empire', 'Involution Ocean', 'Roadmarks', and 'A Gift from Earth'. I still have the last three on my sci fi book shelf, where only my favourite sci fi novels are to be found (the rest have been packed away in boxes in case I ever move to a home where I have room for the small library I have collected over the years). Each of these novels was unique to me back then. I didn't know that 'Involution Ocean' was really just 'Moby Dick' in disguise, probably because I'd likely never even heard of 'Moby Dick' back then. I didn't know any of the authors by reputatiion and was quite surprised when twelve years later Oleg leant me a whole collection of Niven novels and I realised that 'A Gift from Earth' was a part of a much larger artistic creation. Lookng back on it all, Niven is still one of my favourite authors, though he also began to get a little repetitious after a while. The trick seems to be to read novels by good authors until you notice their foibles and themes, then stop and move on before they become tarnished. I did that with Arthur C Clarke and I've never regretted it.

I also picked up other odd books in those days, books which I would later put into a broader context but which, at the time, seemed wholly novel and unique. 'Moominland Midwinter' was one such book and 'Duncton Wood' was another. 'Moominland Midwinter' quite literally opened my mind in a way which no other book has ever done. Not even 'The Hobbit' could reach out to me in the curiously personal way this novel did. When I read it, it was as if Jansson was describing my mind in allegory. I was Moomintroll and my life was Midwinter. To this day, this book, and its amazingly powerful illustrations, continues to provoke my sense of self in myriad ways and all I have to do is look though its pages to open a window onto my soul.

'Duncton Wood' gradually faded in importance to me, but for a while it was possibly the most powerful novel I'd ever read. The story is almost Shakespearian in its drama and depth, and yet the premise of the novel, with intelligent moles as its characters, is plainly absurd. In those days I'd heard of, but not seen nor read 'Watership Down', so I had a vague idea of the sub-genre but when I read this book, with its dark and bloody tale, I was fascinated and horrified at the same time. It wasn't the talking moles that got to me, I was used to far more unusual things than that, but rather the story itself with its indirect representation of the stranger aspects of human relationships. I knew of incest, political intrigue, etc, but I wasn't used to reading about them and certainly not in the context of a fantasy novel! Looking back, I wonder why this novel should have stuck out so much as it did, for I'd read other stories back then which also featured horrible and grotesque details, such as 'The Mad God's Amulet'. I suppose the difference lies in the charcters having been moles, which until then I'd probably regarded as cute.

'The Mad God's Amulet' was a short but fantastic novel that was both science fiction and fantasy at the same time. Like so many other of my books in those days, I had probably picked it up at a jumble sale and had little idea of it belonging to a collection of inter-related stories. It had a list of other books in the series on the first page but I disregarded this for years prefering to think of the novel as a stand alone tale. Another novel which was similar in a great many respects, and which also belonged to a larger collection of tales, was 'Marauders of Gor' which I had found in a box of old paper-backs at one of the many traction engine rallies my father often took us to. I remember the Chris Achilleos illustration caught my eye and the subsequent story of Vikings vs giant hairy aliens was sufficiently adventurious to get me well and truly hooked and off to WH SMith's to find more books from the Gor series. Norman's books weren't nearly as baroque as Moorcock's, but they were a similar blend of fantasy with science fiction, and for almost a decade I regarded them as some of my favourite novels. Being a teenage boy I was also captivated by the idea of women as sex slaves, though to be honest, it was the story behind the prudish mysogeny that caught my attention, and my favourites in the series were the first novels when the story carried far more weight than Norman's ridiculous ideas regarding women. You can see which novels are the good ones by their cover art. All the first books were illustrated by Achilleos in his prime.

For one of my birthdays in the late 1970's. Some one had given me a pair of children's anthology books with each chapter showcasing a chapter from some novel or other. These two books, one of which dealt with fantasy and the other with science fiction, formed a base from which I began to range, looking for some of the novels featured (I'm still looking for some of them). The first I found was 'Citizen of the Galaxy' and as with so many other books, I was attracted to the protagonist, identifying with him as only a child can do. As far back as I can remember, this idea of a small and helpless character growing, whilst under the protection of a stronger and wiser character was the primary allure of the fantasy genre for me, but eventually it was also the trigger for my eventual disenchantment. The rot set in with 'The Pawn of Prophecy', 'Dragonriders of Pern' and 'The Colour of Magic', all of which I liked when I first read them, but which gradually became horrendous phantoms of doom as I eventually to put them into the context of the fantasy genre. It didn't help that at the same time I was regularly playing Dungeons and Dragons, nor that my mother was attracted to many of the same books and was readily buying them so we could keep on reading.

'The Colour of Magic' was not one of my mother's favourites, but it was probably that novel which issued the coup de grace. I'd become increasingly hostile to the works of Eddings and McCaffrey, both of which were being brought into my life on a regular basis by my mother's growing addiction for fantasy, and both of which I still kept on reading since there wasn't much else to read in those days, but with 'The Colour of Magic' Terry Pratchett exposed the bare bones of serial novels, especially in the fantasy genre, and he took the piss. With his subsequent production of discworld novels, Pratchett became much like the genre he was lampooning, and this only served to heighten my dislike for the genre and his books even more and eventually I lost all interest in fantasy. Only a few classics of fantasy are left on my shelf and even Tolkien has lost the aura of being something readworthy now Peter Jackson has reduced it to mainstream pap.

When you've been playing role playing games for decades, rather than months or years, you can develop a strong sense for quality in story telling. When you read a fantasy book whose ideas feel pedestrian, then you might wonder at the nature of the genre. When I look back at how I felt reading 'Duncton Wood', and that was just a story about moles, then I wonder at all the long lists, family tree's and complicated geography that has become a staple of the brick sized novels of serial fantasy, and sci fi too, I feel as if I have outgrown the genre entirely. As often as not, I feel that when I am reading fanstasy, I am merely reading some one else's role playing game universe, and as complicated and expansive as it might seem, the simple fact is, all the details and faux facts can't compete with the art of telling a good story.

I used to suffer from insomnia

2011-12-29T09:34:00.003+01:00

Its 0600 and I've just been woken up, again, by Vilde who stubbornly and consistently refuses to settle down to a full night's sleep. As far as I can recollect, she has been waking up every twenty to thirty minutes and screaming hysterically until either Mette or I (usually me) goes in to comfort her. The end result of this for Mette and I is living with the effects of long term sleep deprivation in a way neither of us experienced with Magne, nor Freja. Effectively I have not slept eight straight hours in the last four months and this constantly being awoken each time I fall asleep means I now have a chronic headache and have been downing pain killers like cocktails every other day.

One two occaisions I have had the chance to catch up on my sleep. Sometimes Mette takes the kids and stays at her parents in Aalborg. When this has happened, I have swung like a pendulum to the opposite extreme and slept as many as eleven hours, awoken with back pains, a stiff neck and the inevitable head ache. Mette has likewise suffered when at her parents, for, as I experienced this christmas, Vilde abhors sleeping any where but at home, and she kept up a prolonged klaxon wail that made sleep impossible. Consequently I slept most of Christmas day and we decided to go home on Boxing day rather than face yet another such traumatic night.

With the children home all Christmas, and neither Mette or I inclined to punish ourselves further by arranging some distractions for them, sheer fatigue alone prohibits any such endeavour, the current holiday feels more like a Siberian prison sentence and my productivity feels equally as forced upon me as if I were one of Stalin's exhiles.

I used to suffer from insomnia so I'm used to unusual sleep patterns, but in those halcyon days I could sleep my mornings away and arise as midday as 'fresh as a sea eagle'. The tyranny of small children however means I get no sleep during the day either, so I survive on short cat naps until sudden catastrophic collapses leave me insensible for five or six hours.

The kids go back to their respective schools and institutues on January 2nd, and Vilde is due to begin day care too. I am fervently hoping that like her siblings before her, day care will eventually force Vilde to adapt to a daily routinue which results in a full night's sleep, both for her and for her parents, because frankly, I'm not sure how much more sleep deprevation I can handle before I malfunction.

Artist of the Month; Jenny Saville

2011-12-18T02:40:00.003+01:00

There aren't many contemporary artists who can hold a candle to the late Lucien Freud, but there is one who can even outshine him. Jenny Saville is often described as a feminist artist, but to me thats a political, pedestrian label, and her true genius should be described as being a figurative artist, for it is her fantastic figurative work that attracts attention. The first paintings I saw by Saville were the two in this post, and both of them went straight to the core of my aesthetic ideals. The first, is both erotic and disturbing, for the painting seemingly depicts a dead girl, but with such vivid intesity that she looks alive enough to kiss. This painting alone puts her streets ahead of most other artists in her generation, and is even better than anything I've seen from Freud.

Africans!

2011-12-17T21:23:00.007+01:00

With RM7 over with (I'll post a write up shortly), its now time to get on with my C20 Africans, of which I have forty figures ready to begin (all from Copplestone Castings). Twenty of them are German Askari's (though I shall paint them generically) and twenty of them are Azande musketeers. The latter appear to be from the Victorian era, but again, I'll paint them as generic Africans so they can be used in future games also. Also underway for RM8 is an 'African heavy tank', which I am converting from a Ironclad Miniatures steam tank. The beauty of alternative history is you can make up such anachronisms as African heavy tanks. The trick is to do it convincingly. The idea with this model, is that tank is a one off thats been based on an FT-17, scaled up by a renegade French engineer on behalf of a Congolese queen rebelling against Belgian rule.

The Skin I Live In

2011-12-09T05:25:00.005+01:00

Dir: Pedro Almodóvar

Judging by the trailer, which I first saw quite some time ago I expected this to be a sort of Hitchcock-type film, but with a Spanish twist. Subsequently I looked forward to seeing it with some eager anticipation. I am familiar with some of the director's previous work, specifically from the 1990's, most of which I enjoyed, but not enough to guarantee this film would automatically be good. And just as well really since such a guarantee would have been worthless for although the film starts well, and kept me on my toes, it ended rather weakly. In fact I felt it ended so weakly as to render the rest of the film rather pointless, which I felt was a great shame as there was scope for something more than I saw.

Banderas was excellent, as he almost always is when he's not being directed in a 'Hollywood film', and though I don't know the other actors, they all played their roles convincingly. Apart from the lame ending, the story was excellent and posed some interesting questions regarding such thorny issues as medical testing, when is a rape actually a rape, and what can justify taking the law into your own hands? I felt everything was possible right up until the last act, but then it all became mundane. Even so, the film was entertaining, in a challenging sort of way, so I won't blow a raspberry.

The Spy who came in from the Cold

2011-12-07T13:10:00.003+01:00

By John Le Carré

I believe this is le Carré's first novel, and it seems obvious when you compare it to 'The Honourable Schoolboy', for this book is only a quarter of the thickness of the other, and has the density of quality that you only ever find in older books. That is to say; from the days when a novel was not expected to be more than 300 pages long.

'The Spy who came in from the Cold' is a short and bitter read, but refreshing all the same, like a good mug of tea where the tea bag has been left in to concentrate all the taste in the last mouthful. The protagonist is an aging British spy named Leamas who is sent on a final mission to bring revenge to the East German spy master who killed off all his agents. Leamas must first establish himself as a credible candidate for defection, then allow himself to be lured over to the enemy. The novel describes this process, but the emphasis, as always with Le Carré has more to do with Leamas's humanity, and his conscience as a spy, than with his mission. As in 'The Honourable Schoolboy', love plays a significant part in the problems Leamas faces, so much so that the two stories are distinctly similar, except this one is much shorter and works much better.

RM7.3

2011-12-03T07:32:00.000+01:00

Kingston. Jamaica. 5th March. 1937.

Sitting on the veranda, sipping a gin and tonic and watching the shipping in the harbour below, Sir Robert Bullington-Smedley, MI6 section chief for the Carribean, is having a lazy day. Every so often, the annoyingly efficient signals officer; Lieutenant Bradfield interupts his maritime surveillance but the equally efficient Corporal Baker, who stands ever ready with the gin bottle, counterbalances these annoyances. Sir Robert glances at his watch. His day is almost done and all that remains now is the impending visit from London’s top agent, Daniel Mansfield. In the valley beyond the plantations, a single motor car can be seen racing its way up the road, drawing ever nearer. Lieutenant Bradfield returns with another sheet of paper.
”Sir, here are the latest French shipping forecasts from the Admiralty.”
Sir Robert accepts the paper without much enthusiasm then points to the approaching vehicle with his now empty glass.
”This will be Mansfield I presume” he states. Corporal Baker steps forward and silently refills the glass.
”Yes sir. Would you like to see him or shall I deal with him?”
Sir Robert turns his eyes on the young Lieutenant and regards him. There can be no question of allowing an uninitiated person to hear what Mansfield will have to report, but Sir Robert is sorely tempted. He takes a distracted sip of his drink and then dimisses both Bradfield and Baker. Somethings cannot be avoided.

When Daniel Mansfield arrives, Sir Robert shows little indication of having drunk any alcohol. His manner is crisp and alert and his eyes regard the younger man with considerable interest. As Mansfield delivers his report, Sir Robert remains silent until he is finished.
”So your saying the Kingpin escaped?” he asks. Mansfield shrugs.
”We really can’t be sure I’m afraid. We killed all those whom we found, but one or two did get away. None of them would surrender either so we were obliged to forfeit any opportunity for questioning them and since we had no intelligence on what this Kingpin character actually looks like, then we have no way of being sure. I’m inclined to believe we didn’t kill him.”
”You almost certainly didn’t. He’s a slippery character. Would you like a drink?”
Daniel Mansfield accepts a drink and settles back in his chair. The view of the harbour below is soothing but his mind is a turmoil with questions.
”So you’ve had dealings with him before?” he asks
”Some” the older man replies. ”We’ve been monitering various activities in this region which indicate his group is connected to others in South America”
”Other groups like his?”
Both men share a pensive glance. Sir Robert shakes his head slowly.
”What do you mean?”
”Well Sir Robert, if I am to be blunt. I’m not much of a head piece when it comes to biology, but I can certainly tell the different between a man and a cauliflower!”
Sir Robert sits perfectly still.
”Plant people?”
Mansfield raises his eye brows; ”You’ve heard of them before?”
”I’ve read reports, but they were old. I thought they were all dead and gone. I’m surprised...” Sir Robert stands up and glances about. He indicates to Mansfield to follow him and the two men walk slowly into the gardens which lie below the house.
”I’m not sure about your security classification” he continues, ”but I presume London acted in ignorance. The plant people haven’t been on the cards for a good long while now.”
”Who ...or rather what are they?” Mansfield asks.
”No one really knows who they are” Sir Robert replies. ”They’ve been around for a very long time. The earliest reports indicate they were already in the Americas before Columbus arrived, but they were certainly here when Carrington met them in 1678. He’s said to have fought them several times, but could never take one alive.”
Mansfield shakes his head in wonder.
”You said you thought they were all dead and gone?”
”Yes. The last time they were reported was in Santiago de Cuba in the 1870’s. The Americans supposedly did away with a group of them there. They burned them rather than allow them to be seen.”
Mansfield nods his head.
”Thats understandable. I suppose they wanted to avoid panic or mass hysteria?”
”Possibly” Sir Robert nods, ”but I understand the Americans always burned the plant people so they couldn’t regenerate.”
”Regenerate?”
”Well yes. They’re like plants you see. All it takes is for one root to survive...”
Mansfield stops and casts his mind back.
”Do you mean the worms? Were they actually roots?”
”I can’t say.” Sir Robert shrugs. ”The reports are sketchy. I’ve read about the worms, but I don’t know what they are or which function they might serve. I only know what I’ve read in a few old reports and those were mostly second hand accounts of American actions. I suppose its possible the Americans might know a lot more than we do, not least since the plant people apprently still exist on the American main land. Or at least they did until recently”
Mansfield smiles sardonically. He is about to speak again, when a distant hail interupts him. Both men turn to face Lieutenant Bradfield who is waving down at them from the veranda.
”Damn the man!” Sir Robert ejaculates. ”Whats so urgent that it can’t wait five minutes?”.
They watch as the young officer rushes down towards them, a slip of paper in his hand.
”I thought you might like to see this at once Sir” he pants, ”...since it is in regard to Mister Mansfield”
Sir Robert reads the message then smiles broadly.
”Well, well. Fortune smiles upon us. The intercept station at Waverly Point has picked up a transmission from the Kingpin. The message was coded, but the transmission came from a position roughly one hundred miles off Santiago de Cuba.”
Mansfield glances at his wrist watch.
”Our plane should be refuelled and ready to go by now. If we leave at once, we might catch him there!”
”Very good. I’ll get onto our local assets and see what help they can provide.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Santiago de Cuba. 0200 hours. 6th March. 1937.

Having flown straight to Cuba, Daniel Mansfield and his companions have been provided with information by Sir Robert's local assets. The Kingpin’s boat arrived in Santiago only a few hours previously and is currently moored along side a German mechant ship on Pier 9.
Pier 9 is an older part of the harbour, where the hulking remains of nineteenth century infrastructure quietly rust amidst the bustle and rush of the larger harbour complex. There are three companies currently operating on the pier. Rheinfeldt Shipping, Sancho & Fernandez and the AGL Transport and Storage Company. Moored along side the quay is a German merchant ship, the MS Liselle.

It is pitch dark. The sky is over cast and it is raining. Hard.

”Steady on chaps”.
On a vantage point, overlooking the harbour, Daniel Mansfield, with the rain pouring down his helmet visor, beckons to his companions who gather around. ”This is the situation as it stands now; The building with all the lights at the end of the pier is the AGL Transport and Storage Company...”
”AGL?” George interupts. ”Ag Lata?”
”Quite possibly” Daniel replies. ”Thats their boat moored at the end of the pier.”
”The one that got away at Florida” Messnier states with satisfaction. ”This time we shall have him!”
”We will” Daniel agrees, ”But we have to move carefully. First of all, we’ll take up positions to make sure no one gets off that pier without we say so, then I’ll go forward with Dougal, Hamish, Vesper and Mr Smith...”
”I’ll come with you old man” Arthur Spencer says. ”I haven’t been of much use so far.”
Daniel nods, then turns to Mitchel.
”Joe, you and Marcel set up to cover both sides of the pier, and don’t let any one pass you by. Shoot to kill if you have to.”
Mitchel nods and Messnier grins.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Under the cover of darkness, the British agents move swiftly down to the dockyard and are taking up initial positions when suddenly there is a flare of head lights and three cars sweep by splashing through the water logged pot holes of the road.
”Who the hell is this?” Mitchell mutters angrily. ”They look like ginny hoods!”
”It seems like the Kingpin has guests” Daniel answers. ”Never mind. Keep going. We can’t afford to let him get away this time or we might never have another chance.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PLAYER ONE: OLEG

Rocketman. Dougal. Hamish. Vesper. George Macarthur. Arthur Spencer.

PLAYER TWO: PALLE

‘Mad Dog’ Mitchell. Marcel Messnier. Mr Smith. Il Conte di Vulcano. Wu Foo.

PLAYER THREE: GOEG

The Kingpin. 2 x Armoured cultists. Fishing boat captain. Warehouse manager. 4 x German sailors

PLAYER FOUR: JAN

Don Vito Scarlatti. Gloria. Herman Rüling. 6 x Gangsters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starting

Players one and two start at the north edge of the table and have two rounds to get into position before the sudden appearance of Il Conte de Vulcano alerts the antagonists.

Players three and four begin at the south end of the pier. Player three must begin with no element no further than 12 inches from either the Kingpin or the fishing boat. The Kingpin begins the game, standing at the front of the AGL Transport and Storage Company warehouse. Player four begins any where on the southern half of the pier, except for Don Vito, Gloria and Herman Rüling who must all begin within six inches of the Kingpin.

In round three, Il Conte de Vulcano and Wu Foo arrive in their sports car. They drive onto the table top at speed, but immediately skid to a stop in between the buildings of Rheinfeldt Shipping and Sancho & Fernandez.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Map

All out door areas are Good, except the sea which is Impassable. The interior of the buildings is Difficult, except in the storage areas which are Rough.

The outer deck areas of the ship are Rough, except the main cargo deck which is Good. The ship interiors are Difficult.
The Fishing boat is Difficult.
The crane’s various platforms are Difficult.
Standing on, or climbing over crates is classed as Rough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Victory Conditions

Either side wins automatically by defeating two thirds of the opposing side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Special rules

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Conclusion

This game was played on Wednesday 23rd November. 2011.
Players were Jan, Goeg, Oleg and Palle.

Il Conte di Vulcano arrives

Players one and two began as directed by the scenario, moving into advantagous starting positions with Oleg (Rocketman, Hamish and Dougal) covering the western edge of the pier and Palle (Mitchell and Messnier) covering the eastern edge. Mitchell and Messnier were making their way towards the MS Liselle, intent upon taking control of its elevated firing potential when the sudden arrival of Il Conte de Vulcano alerted the antagonists. Screeching to a halt, lights ablaze, behind the cover the large Sancho & Fernandez building, Il Conte di Vulcano was hidden from view and though they became slightly more suspicious, the antagonsists did not react beyond moving one of their cars to cover the western side of the pier with its head lights.

Don Vito arrives to meet with the Kingpin

Since none of the bemused British had any idea who he was, Il Conte di Vulcano was obliged to introduce himself as a great Italian hero on a mission to fight the evil forces of fascism and crime, which was more or less the truth. He explained he was on Cuba specifically to thwart the endeavours of Don Vito Scarlatti (though he'd never heard of the Kingpin) and Rocketman suggested he join them in their assault. Il Conte agreed to this audacious plan and together with his faithful driver, Wu Foo, joined Mitchell and Messnier in their plan to grab the German freighter.

On board the freighter, the night watchmen had been alerted by the roaring engine and screeching of tyres of Il Conte's automobile and two of them had come to a railing to investigate. Mitchell however had already climbed aboard the ship and was making his way to come around the super structure to take the crew by surprise. Despite all this, the gangsters and the cultists at the end of the pier had yet to understand that they were under attack and they remained unaware until they realised they were being approached along the western edge of the pier, by men with guns. At this point, one of the gangsters and one of the kingpin's body guards, opened fire with automatic weapons and the battle began.

To the left, a gangster and a cultist open fire on George, Dougal & Hamish

Mitchell, Messnier and Il Conte carried on their assault on the freighter, with Mitchell bursting in upon two the crew and engaging in fisticuffs, whilst the other two night watchmen ran about the ship in confusion. Whilst this was going on, and whilst Dougal, Hamish and George Macarthur were facing the wild but largely ineffective gun fire on the western edge of the pier, Vesper had penetrated the Sancho & Fernandez building to establish that it was empty. She reached the upper most level and positioned herself in the cargo door way, ready to drop a grenade on to the the AGL building if needed. Arthur Spencer in the meanwhile had also sneaked forward. Under the darkness cast by the crane, he was trying, unsuccessfully to break into, and kick start, a small blue van which was parked on the eastern side of the Sancho & Fernandez building. This was tricky since he had no experience breaking into vehicles, and he was in direct line of sight of the gangsters. Luckily the darkness concealed him but he ultimately failed to break into the van.

Arthur Spencer fails to break into the blue van

Hamish and Dougal tried to rush forward but Hamish was forced to duck for cover and got left behind. Dougal tried to engage the suspected enemies inside the AGL Transport and Storage Company warehouse by firing through the rear wall of the building, but this proved fruitless, so instead he crept forward to where the gangsters had moved a car to act as a barrier along side the building.

Towards the end of the game, both sides were exchanging fire to little effect though the German ship had been taken. Mitchell and Messnier tried to engage the gangsters with sniper fire, but were unable to kill any one. Don Vito decided he'd had enough though and together with Gloria and a driver, jumped into his car and tried to flee the scene. Herman Rüling followed in his car. Neither made it off the table before Rocketman took to the air and strafed the Kingpin, downing him just as time ran out...

Don Vito (in the black car under the crane) attempts to flee

The game ended with no decisive winner. Though Rocketman downed the Kingpin, this was not a victory condition, and since the Kingpin was only 'downed' by bullets, he did not die. The battle hangs in the balance therefore, and continues in Chapter Four...

The table at the end of the game

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Honourable Schoolboy

2011-11-28T18:07:00.002+01:00

By John le Carré

After 'Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy', I was convinced that le Carré was too good to ignore, so I bought three more of his novels, and this is the first of those. At 686 pages its a brick of a book and I was expecting something byzantine in its complexity, but entertaining. Alas, though it may be Byzantine, 'The Honourable Schoolby' isn't particularly entertaining, at least, I didn't find it so. Sadly, its just too long to support a story which moves so slowly and whilsy flowery depictions of the pointless wars and the rotting Asian landscape might ring some people's bell, it didn't do anything for me. I chewed my way through it, hoping until I'd reached about 75% that this wasn't the reality of George Smiley, but it seems the negative impressions I'd received of this character in the past (mostly from BBC radio plays) were far more accurate than I'd hoped. 'The world's greatest fictional spymaster', as Newsweek is quoted as calling him, seems more like a jaded navel gazer to me, and whilst their might be some realism mixed into the story, reality usually isn't entertaining enough to justify a book this thick and turgid. Its not that this novel was badly written, its just that the story was boring.

Battlefield 3

2011-11-22T13:04:00.009+01:00

I don't usually play FPS games, in fact I almost never do, but I decided to give it a try, and on the strength of the trailers, I bought BF3 when it was released about a month ago. At first it was much as I expected. I played the single player campaign, and found it was rather short, too short in fact, and I was left feeling disappointed. I hadn't understood how heavily the game rested on the multi-player function, and my xbox wasn't connected to the internet at the time, mostly because I didn't want Freja straying online.

Then last week I upgraded our internet connection and as a result was able to connect my console to the net. It turns out I can do this in a way that doesn't allow unwanted access to the internet by the simple expedience of disconnecting the USB cable. I was then able to connect to the to BF3 online servers and for the last four nights, once the kids are asleep in bed, I've been playing against people who have obviously been playing FPS games a lot longer than I have.

On the whole I score lowest in each game, often with no, or only a few kills: Its a steep learning curve but it is also great fun, even though one or two things jar against my wargaming mind set. The first, and most obvious is the way in which the game is played. I think the idea is for players to work together, but there doesn't seem to be any means to communicate so any notion of a plan goes out the window from the get go. There is probably a team speak option which I have yet to uncover but even if there is, I see no evidence that most other players are aware of it either. People run around like unguided missiles, blasting every one they meet, and whilst I can see the merit of this, since it gives a higher kill score, it also means they die just as fast as they kill, which sort of defeats the idea of simulated combat (unless we are to accept that all soldiers are suicidal in nature). Its been difficult for me to adapt to this mentality, I prefer to move slower and in a team, and win by the default of still being alive after the firefight is over. Consequently I die frequently as skilled players, usually with far better weapons than mine, sprint around to come from behind, and not caring if they then also die when my fellow team players return fire. Dying in BF3 carries little penalty for the player.

The weapons are another problem. Often the skilled players carry a small but rather unrealistic arsenal and its not unusual to be killed by some one carrying a .50 sniper rifle with laser and optics, whilst carrying a javelin missile launcher on their back. I've never hefted either, but I have carried a Carl Gustav recoilless rifle and a MG3 light machinegun (both about equal in weight I think) and I defy any one to sprint about whilst carrying both. Obviously encumbrance doesn't exist in FPS games!

Back blast is another small niggling detail, conspicuous by its absence. I usually play an engineer, since this means I get to fire AT weapons (and since noob rifles don't seem to have any effect on experienced players) and I've often found it convenient to fire my RPG7 (statistically my most effective weapon) whilst in a room, up against a wall, surrounded by other players, and with no ill effect on any one at all. For some reason this irritates me more than a host of other unrealistic details, possibly because I was trained to always check behind me before I fired the Carl Gustav. I actually did this the first few times in BF3, but I've stopped now I realise there is no back blast in FPS games.

The truth is, I'm like a child with a new toy though. I haven't played any online games since my computer (and my fingers) gave up on EVE, and its going to be interesting to see how long the novelty lasts. The graphics are good (though the fighter aircraft move too slow in the sky) and I have not had any of the connection issues people complain about. The sense of impending danger is ever present, but so too is a feeling of comraderie when ever players work together, though this would be even better I think if I was in a dedicated team. On the whole, I'm glad I bought this game, not least because at some point I hope to connect with my brother and play against him. It shouldn't be too hard for him to beat me. My 'combat efficiency' is 4%

Rocketman and the Terror of Oyster Bay

2011-11-20T03:08:00.003+01:00

Chapter Two: Something strange is afoot

Oyster Bay 3rd March. 1937.

Wokinghouse blinks and stares at the armoured figure with the twin rockets strapped to his back. “Goodness me... Mansfield, is that you?”
Rocketman examines the bruised and battered man for a moment, then nods. “We meet again Professor.”
“We do indeed, and what a jolly old show this is! If you hadn’t turned up when you did, our goose would have been cooked!”
“It did seem that way. What on Earth is going on? Who are these people?”
“I’m not entirely sure” the older man exclaims. “I was approached in Miami by a man who claimed to be from the American government, but I was assured that this was not the case...”
“Assured by whom?” Mansfield interupts.
“Pardon...? Oh, I was travelling with one of our lot, that is to say, one of your lot... well, one of Sir Hugh’s men at any rate, a chap named Carter, I didn’t catch his christian name. He went to investigate the matter and that was the last I heard of it, or him. I didn’t think much of it at the time, you secret division fellows come and go all the time.”
“When was this exactly?”
“Exactly...? Well, lets see. I waited in Miami before my meeting, then I caught the flight.. so it would eight days ago now.”
Mitchell approaches, lighting a fresh cigar.
“What d’ya wanna do with the stiffs?”
Daniel blinks at him in confusion. “Pardon?”
“Well you can’t leave corpses in this heat” Mitchell explains. “They’ll swell up real fast and start stinking the place up. I suggest we heave ‘em in the lagoon. The ‘gators’ll get rid of the evidence so the local flat feet don’t catch our trail.”
“Oh I say” Professor Wokinghouse swallows in distaste.
Mansfield shrugs. “It can’t be otherwise I’m afraid. We’re not here with the sanction or good will of the American goverment, so we shouldn’t leave any inconvenient dead bodies behind... Go ahead Joe.”
Mitchell nods approvingly.
“By the way” Professor Wokinghouse asks as he watches the men begin to drag the bodies to the water front, “how on Earth did you find us?”
“We were lucky enough that your unfortunate pilot had just broadcast his position moments before the plane went down. We came straight here as this is the only mooring on Oyster bay, at least according to our maps. It was our great fortune that you just so happened to arrive ten minutes after we got here.”
“Heavens!”
“Indeed. A few minutes earlier and I’m afraid we would have been too late.”
“No, thats not what I meant” the professor cries in agitation. “I just remembered, the men in the boat were coming here to rendezvous with more of their people!”
“Do you mean to say there are more of them coming here?”
“Thats exactly it!”
Both men turn to look toward the main road where the lights of distant vehicles are beginning to glimmer through the undergrowth.
“Whats that?” Mitchell asks.
“More cultists!” Mansfield shouts. “Every one get under cover!”
Every one scatters into the shadows, but even as weapons are prepared there is a sudden commotion from the water front.
“What the hell?!” Ben Campbell’s deep voice cries out.
“Look out!” George cries.
“What the deuce is going on?” Mansfield shouts.
Suddenly a horrific scream rends the night and Ben Campbell staggers into view, a huge pale, green worm-like creature tearing at his throat. The big Canadian pulls frantically at the creature but its cruel jaws are already clamped on his neck and he falls to the ground, writhing in agony.
“Get that thing off him!”
Mitchell rushes forward and pulls the worm away. Blood spatters across the ground as he throws it to one side and Ben Campbell falls face first into the dust.
“What the hell!” Mitchell curses and stamps on the dreadful creature. “What the hell is that?”
“Is he dead?” Professor Wokinghouse cries
“Never mind that now!” Mansfield pulls the Professor to cover as the head lights of two vehicles suddenly bath the tree tops in light. “They’re here. Every one get under cover!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PLAYER ONE: OLEG

Rocketman. Dougal. Hamish. Vesper. (Hostages if freed)

PLAYER TWO: PALLE

‘Mad Dog’ Mitchell. George Macarthur. Marcel Messnier. Arthur Spencer. Mr Smith.

PLAYER THREE: GOEG

Cultist with SMG. 3 x Armoured cultists with rifles. Armoured cultist with LMG. 4 x Annelids

PLAYER FOUR: JAN

Cultist with SMG. 3 x Armoured cultists with rifles. Armoured cultist with LMG. 4 x Annelids

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starting

Players one and two start in cover in the lower half of the cul-de-sac, with an exception for Mr Smith who may begin in the workshop, making improvised weaponry.

Players three and four; the cultists, begin in their vehicles on the road. Each vehicle contains five cultists and may be placed any where along the main road. The Annelids, which begin stealthed, start any where on the table top, but no closer to an enemy element than four inches.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Map

As in Chapter One

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Victory Conditions

Either side wins automatically by defeating two thirds of the opposing side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Special rules

Rocketman has four Hero Points in this game.

Any element attempting stealthed movement inside the scrap yard is hampered by all the junk lying around and suffers a -1 penalty.

Piles of junk and old cars give a +2 advantage against enemy fire. Wooden balconies, fences (its old wood) give +1.

The two buildings closest to the road are houses, the southern of the two being older and in poor condition. It also has a small workshop to the west of the main building. Next along the cul-de-sac is a commecial building of some kind (which is currently on fire due to the exploding flame thrower in Chapter One). Across from it is a storage shed for the fishing boat, and standing on the water, next to the jetty, is an abandoned house.

If Player Two wishes, Mr Smith may begin the game in the work shop, making one d6 molotov cocktails.

The cultists arrive in two vans, each containing five elements. Once these vans have been placed on the table, they function solely as terrain features.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Conclusion

This game was played on Thursday 10th November. 2011.
Players were Jan, Goeg, Oleg and Palle.

The game began with the Cultists parking their vans at either side of the entrance to the cul-de-sac and disembarking to either side. The first group of cultists (Goeg) took the southern flank and the second group (Jan) took the northern. Rocketman (Oleg) and his friends (Palle) scattered around the western end of the cul-de-sac, whilst Mr Smith was in the workshop making molotov cocktails.

The first group of cultists took up positions on the balconey of the second house and from this cover began to seek out targets in the darkness. The second group of cultists fractured with one cultist left to guard the road, and cover the cul-de-sac, one cultist inside the first house, to act as a sniper and the remaining three (including the group's SMG and LMG) moving along the darkness of the northern table edge.

Goeg gathers his cultists i a firing squad

Despite the immediate deployment of ten heavily armed cultists, there was no instant fire fight. A few shots rang out, keeping people on their toes, but very quickly the focus of the game shifted to the annelids; the hideous worm like creatures which were crawling about in the darkness, seeking their prey. The first victim was the female hostage, who was attacked from the rear, and very graphically, died when an annelid sought out the fastest way into her body.

The female hostage is 'violated' by an Annelid

The British agents quickly realised that the annelids, or worms as they were called, were a pressing concern, so for the next hour or so, whilst the fire fight with the cultists gradually intensified, Rocketman set about as a one man pest control, using his superior powers of observation and determination to exterminate as many annelids as possible. In this he was mostly successful, but he was unable to help Arthur Spencer, who had been shot in the back and was lying helpless before an advancing annelid, so it fell to Mitchell to pick up the wounded man and carry him to cover.

Arthur Spencer in a tight spot

Eventually the annelids were more or less all defeated and then the sporadic fire fight which had been going on back and forth along the cul-de-sac began to heat up. The first group of cultists were still gathered around the second house, but most had moved off the balconey in order to prevent them all being taken out by a single attack. The second group of cultists was strung out in and around the junk yard and not getting very far. Mitchell and Arthur Spencer had been pushed back by this advance, but largely avoided it by crossing the road under the cover of darkness, with Mitchell carrying Spencer.

Marcel Mesnier and George Macarthur had entered the abandoned house on the water front, within which they encountered another of the large aubergine-like plants growing from the remains of several dead bodies. This one however was both bigger than the first, gave off a curious smell, and was moving. The large large aubergine-like bulb at the top of the was pulsing and writhing and it was obvious that something within was trying to get out. Messnier ignored this entirely and positioned himself with his rifle at a window on the upper level of the house. George paused to examine the plant, then put a revolver round into the bulb. This only caused the thing to move all the more frantically, but George didn't hang around to watch, prefering instead to position himself at the top of the steps looking down. He was unable to see what was happening from this position but he could hear the wet, gurgling sounds of ...something.

The British press home their final attack

The cultist sniper had seen Rocketman and had taken a pot shot at him, but to no avail. Rocketman moved up to the undergrowth as the British shuffled to launch a coordinated attack against the first group of cultists. This attack saw Rocketman taking to the air to swing around and attack from the rear, whilst Vesper threw a molotov cocktail from the front door of the second house. Initially the attack faltered with the molotov doing very little harm, but once Rocketman and Vesper were close enough, the cultists proved inept at hand to hand against two such formidable fighters. The first group of cultists was defeated whilst the second group was stung out and disorganised. The game end as a second defeat to the British.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Artist of the Month; Elizabeth Shippen Green

2011-11-14T18:54:00.004+01:00

Elizabeth Shippen Green was an American illustrator of the Victorian period. She specialized in children's book and magazine illustrations and was a contemporary of Howard Pyle. Like most illustrators of her day she was of course fully proficient in colour, but it is her ink line illustrations that have drawn her to my attention, as like Howard Pyle's, those are her images that retain the most vigour. They are dated, but still, there is something timeless about composition, and something simple. The Victorians were especially good at ink line illustration because ink line art was used, just as today, many commercial artists are good at wacom drawn concept art. The difference is, there is a timeless romance in ink line which you won't find in anything drawn on a computer.

Cars and cultists

2011-11-07T22:59:00.007+01:00

I finished the cultists a few weeks ago, and they've already seen some action as bad guys in Rocketman 7.1. where they were annhilated. RM7.2 was pushed back a week or so due to illness taking down most of the moif clan, but the cultists are due to reappear then, and next time they will be armed to the teeth! Its going to be interesting to see if Rocketman and his chums can survive the onslaught!

Most of my last few weeks have involved coughing and blowing my nose, but in between these, I have painted up a few model cars for Rocketman. The lack of any decent vehicles has always been an annoyance when I've planned games in the past and I decided it was about time to do some serious e-bay trawling and here are some of the results. I already had one or two toy cars left over from my parents collection (most of which disapeared into the chidrens toy boxes) but these were mostly Matchbox 'Models of Yesteryear', which my mother collected and not really in scale for 28mm gaming. I've bought some of these before, namely the Crossley trucks which have appeared in previous games, but these have been limited and I've never had any ordinary cars which might lend a certain credibility to a game set in the 1930's. Only trucks, armoured cars and tanks.

This is a Ford Model T, from Lledo's 'Days gone by' range. It is available in a wide range of novelty vans and fuel tankers which suit 28mm scale quite well (see below), but it is more difficult to find as a car, which better suits my purposes. It has a nice 'gangster quality' and I can just see a wise guy standing on the running board with a Thompsen in his hand. It cost next to nothing, less than £5 including P&P.

Another Ford, this time a Model A, and also from Lledo's 'Days Gone By' range.

These two are some kind of Rolls Royces from from Lledo's 'Days gone by' range, but I don't know which kind. As far as I am concerned, they do fine as the type of grandiose automobile a flash civilian or gangster boss might own. Like all the other Lledo cars, they were dirt cheap.

This one is a Matchbox 'Models of Yesteryear'; Bugatti, and I've seen these set for sale on e-bay for as much as £125 (presumably in mint condition). I haven't seen any one bid that much though, and I've also seen them set for as little as £0.99. As a 28mm scale model of a Bugatti, its a tad on the large side, as Bugattis were quite small, but as a generic red racing car, its perfect. I intend to use it as the car of Conte il Vulcano, when it will make its appearance in an upcoming Rocketman game.

I bought this one by accident, as I thought from the dark photograph and vague description that it was a Lledo Ford Model T. It was only when I opened the box that I realised that it was a '1933 Austin taxi'. I immediately went to e-bay and searched for other variants of this model but alas taxis in a variety of colours were all I found. It was cheap too. Like all the others, it was less than £5 including P&P.

This is an Oxford Diecast 'original' and as far as I can make out, its not meant to be any specific marque of autommobile. My Mother had three of them, and they are cheap quality, but make for decent enough commercial vehicles in 28mm though I prefer the Lledo Model A ford van.

My father had a couple of diecast traction engine models, and the others, which are slightly bigger are definately Corgi, in 1/50 scale, but I'm not sure what this one is. As far as I can make out its just a generic traction engine.

Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind

2011-11-07T03:28:00.004+01:00

Dir: Hayao Miyazaki

Recently, the children and I have been watching films made by studio Ghibli, mostly because I saw them on offer in a shop (three for 99kr). I bought six titles; 'Princess Mononoke', 'Porco Rosso', 'Howl's Moving Castle', 'My Neighbour Totoro', 'Kiki's delivery Service', and 'Ponyo'. I'd already seen the first three, but I bought them to watch with Freja who is now old enough to appreciate them. So far we've seen 'Princess Mononoke' which Freja found a tad scary but which she liked, 'My Neighbour Totoro' which we all loved, and 'Kiki's delivery Service' which was good, but not as good as 'My Neighbour Totoro'.

One thing has struck me about Miyazaki whilst I watched these films. He is obsessed with unusual aircraft. Since I too am a big fan of unusual aircraft, I began to read about him on Wikipedia, specifically to see if he had made any other films which featured the same kind of idea's and exotic aircraft. I was certain I'd read, some where in the past, that he had made a post apocolyptic film and sure enough, two titles sprang forth almost at once. 'Castle in the Sky' which I have yet to see, and 'Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind'.

I watched 'Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind' last night and it is an excellent movie, with a fascinating iconography and plenty of inspiring ideas. The story is more or less a straight forward path, but I can forgive that as it makes its way through multiple points of interest, some of which are so well done, they seem almost to belong to Jean Giraud Mobius.

Nausicaä is a princess (of course) of a small valley nation which survives in a world dominated by a poisonous jungle where giant insects rule and the air is filled with toxic spores that will kill a human within five minutes. Several other nations also exist, but as the toxic jungle continues to spread across the Earth, the remaining nations battle each other for survival. Nausicaä and her people get dragged into this conflict when two larger nations struggle for control of an ancient weapon which they believe can push back the toxic jungle and save humanity...

Rocketman and the Terror of Oyster Bay

2011-10-22T01:21:00.002+02:00

London. 1st March. 1937.

A phone rings in a busy office and a young woman reaches across the desk to answer it.
“London Office. Extension 99.”
“This is Travis speaking. Emergency code seven.”
The girl bites her lip and reaches for a small black book. She cradles the telephone receiver against her shoulder and thumbs through the pages.
“Mother Goose is on the mere” she reads.
“The water is deep and dark” the voice replies. “Put me through to M”

Sir Hugh Sinclair listens to the voice on the telephone, but does not speak. Even when he has heard the disturbing message he simply replaces the receiver and sits for several long minutes in silence. Finally, he reaches down into a drawer and produces a manila folder and a bottle of whiskey. Pouring himself a modest glass, he opens the folder and quickly reads for a few minutes. Then, having drained his drink he walks across the room to regard a large map of the Caribbean which is spread across a wall. His eyes follow the outline of Florida and then he picks out a small red thumb tack from a tray and stabs it gently into Oyster Bay. He regards the map for a moment then returns to his desk. He presses the button on his intercom.
“Miss Parker. Connect me to Meteor.”

At RAF Brookehurst, it is a grey and rainy day and the aerodrome is quiet. Only a few aircraft stand dismally in the drizzle, their cockpits and engine cowlings covered with tarpaulins. Each of the line of hangers is closed, except for the last where several officers stand around a Hawker Hurricane watching as its engine is delicately removed. An orderly approaches the group and passes a slip of paper to the only man not in uniform. He reads the message then quickly makes his way to a small office where a telephone lays waiting.
“Mansfield” he says.
“Daniel. We have a problem” the serious tone in Sir Hugh’s voice is unmistakable.
“Go ahead sir”
“Do you remember Wokinghouse? He worked with you at Meteor for a while.”
“Yes. Professor Summer’s old colleague. I remember him.”
“He’s just gone missing over Florida”
“Over Florida Sir?”
“He was headed for New Orleans on an American Airlines flight, but the plane went missing over the Everglades. The last radio check put them some where over Oyster Bay. The Americans are already looking for the wreck, but I’m sending you over to search independently. Something strange is going on and I don’t trust the Americans”
Mansfield frowns. “Strange Sir? How so?”
“Wokinghouse had recently been approached by a third party whom we have been keeping an eye on. Have you by any chance heard tell of the Alligator Cult?”
“Never.”
“They are a small group who follow a very obscure religion. They appear to worship an alligator deity and are mostly found in Southern Florida. We became aware of them when we uncovered the South American connection to the Brotherhood of the Black Cross...”
“Moros!”
“Moros was connected also, but in a different direction. No, the Alligator Cult appear to be a seperate organisation altogether. They were mentioned in some of the papers we recovered, mostly as the recipients of payments made by one of the front companies which served the Brotherhood’s interests. We were never able to uncover what the Alligator Cult were doing in return for the money they were receiving, but when Wokinghouse became the object of their interests, we sent an agent to investigate. Unfortunately, Wokinghouse and the aircraft he was on, went missing before our man could get to him so I’m sending you and your crew to investigate.”
“What of this agent? Do we rendezvous with him?”
“No. He is too valuable to expose by direct contact. Thats your job. I want you to find Wokinghouse if by some chance he should still be alive, but more importantly I want you to find and destroy what ever operation the Alligator Cult are running for Baron Schöenberg.”
“Very good Sir. I’ll assemble my men at once.”

In his London office, Sinclair nods to himself. “Thank you Daniel. We’ll have a flying boat ready for you at Southampton from 0700 hours, and I’ll wire the particulars to you there.”
He listens to the reply then turns to the man oppoiste him as he puts down the telephone receiver.
“What is on your mind?” he askes the other man.
“You didn’t mention the Kingpin. Mansfield mustn’t be left in the dark”
“Don’t worry. I shall include a full briefing” Sinclair replies. The other man narrows his eyes slightly.
“...and will you tell Mansfield what happened to Carter?”
Sinclair opens the manila folder which lays on his desk. He glances at the conclusion, running his eyes across the words, ‘ritually disembowelled’.
“Yes, but I think perhaps we’ll gloss over some of the more disturbing details...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Azores. 2nd March.
“Wake Mitchell up” Mansfield shouts as he enters the cluttered cabin. George Macarthur opens a heavy eye and peers across at the snoring Texan.
“With pleasure” he says. “I’ve never known any one who could snore louder than the drone of a four engined aircraft!”
Daniel Mansfield regards the men assembled in the cabin. Several are old friends, proven trust worthy, others are new companions. He waits until Mitchell is awake and has taken a long pull from a hip flask before holding up a telegram.
“Okay chaps, here’s the juice, but first let me introduce our recent arrivals...”
Mitchell glances over his shoulder in surprise.
“God damn, did I sleep past the Azores?”
Mansfield smiles and nods then turns his attention to a pair of large ginger haired men.
“Most of you know Hamish and Dougal, they’ve been attached to Meteor by HQ. Their job will be to provide some extra muscle, and they’ve been issued with similar equipment to me, though without the rockets of course.”
The two taciturn Scots acknowledge this introduction with the barest of nods and all eyes now turned to the large dark haired man seated across the aisle from Marcel Messnier.
“Ben Campbell is our tracker. He’s from Canada so he’s used to working far from civilisation!”
“I’m also pretty handy with my automatics!” Ben quips as a ripple of laughter passes through the assembled men.
“Quite so” Mansfield replies, “and they’ll come in handy no doubt! Next along we have my old pal from the RAF, Arthur Spencer and beside him Mister Smith from the Ministry. Mister Smith is an expert on explosives, special weapons and demolitions I believe...”
Smith closes both eyes and nods.
“What about the dame?” Mitchell interupts, and all now turn to regard a slender blonde woman who is seated by the door to the cockpit.
“Surely Joe you remember Vesper!?”
Mitchell looks confused for a moment then grins. “Hell, you mean the girl from Wangai’s ship!”
“The very same”
“But weren’t there two of them? Wheres the other one?”
Vesper turns to regard her fellow passengers. For a moment her eyes rest upon each in turn before she finally reaches to Daniel Mansfield. She smiles sardonically and raises an eye brow.
“Vesper has agreed to accompany us whilst her sister is... on holiday” Daniel explains.
The men glance at each other, unsure what exactly this means. Mitchell shrugs and looks to his friend.
“So spill the beans Danny boy, whats the game?”
Mansfield grins. “Nothing dull I assure you. We’re headed for Florida to tackle a dastardly crew of mad cultists who have snatched Professor Wokinghouse!”
George gasps but Mitchell looks blank. “Professor who?”
“Wokinghouse” Daniel explains. “He was with us in the early days of Project Meteor, and after old man Summers I’d say he was the best man in rocketry we have.”
“He could probably give Professor Summers a run for his money too” George adds. “Whats this cult you mentioned?”
“The Cult of the Alligator. Ever hear of them Joe?”
Mitchell sticks out his lower lip and shakes his head.
“According to MI6 they’re a small outfit, gathered around a mysterious leader who goes by the name of the Kingpin. In the past they’re known to have had connections with the Brotherhood of the Black Cross, but the nature of the relationship is obscure. The Alligator Cult were supplying something to the Brotherhood in return for considerable payments, but we don’t yet know what. Our mission is to go in, find Wokinghouse if we can, but even if we can’t, we’re to destroy the cult once and for all.
“Excuse me Daniel” Marcel Messnier speaks up, “but are you suggesting we kill them? On American soil? Won’t that make the Americans angry?”
“Not this American!” Mitchell laughs.
“We must take all the necessary precautions to avoid a diplomatic scandal with the United States, but the Alligator Cult, which I understand will not be missed by Washington, is to be eliminated.”
“Will we have any local help?” George asks.
“Not this time I’m afraid. The Americans would never assist us if they knew what we were going to do, but rest assured gentlemen... and lady, the Alligator Cult has been declared an enemy of the British Crown and this is a legal operation as sanctioned by His Majesty’s Laws of Secret Warfare.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oyster Bay 3rd March. 1937.

The sun sets slowly, setting the sky a-fire over the Florida swamp lands and from the sodden mud flats comes the croaking bark of the alligators and the constant drone of insects. Soon darkness reigns over the bay, and lights begin to show from the small settlement which is the only human habitation for miles around. Several figures congregate around a large fishing boat which is moored to an old rotting jetty. Three struggling figures in muddy clothes, two men and a woman, are pulled from the cabin and then dragged ashore, their protests sounding thin and desperate in the warm air. “Help!” one cries in vain to the people standing on the shore, “Some one for God’s sake help us!”.
A figure in cowled robes approaches from a building and the struggling trio pull away when they see what the new comer is carrying. It is a human head! The woman screams and faints.
“My God!” one man cries in fear. “Its the pilot!”.
“You’ll pay for this you fiends!” the other shouts.
“AG-LATA!” the robed man shouts.
“Ag-lata...” the onlookers begin to chant; “Ag-lata... Ag-lata..”
“Oh my God!” the first man cries out again as several more cowled figures, All bearing weapons, emerge from the buildings to stand on either side of their leader.
“YOU!” the man holding the severed head shouts. “YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN TO DIE FOR AG-LATA!”
“Your all mad!” the first man shouts back at them. He struggles against his captors but they hold him easily. Suddenly there is an awful silence as another cowled figure emerges from a door way. Both men stare in horror as they realise this figure is wearing a flame thrower.
“No!” the first man cries as the terrifying weapon is carried closer. “You can’t do this!”
“YOU WILL BURN IN AL-GATA’S PURIFYING FIRE!” Laughs the leader of the cowled men...

“Not if I can help it!” Rocketman mutters as he raises his submachine gun

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PLAYER ONE: OLEG

Rocketman. Ben Campbell. Dougal. Hamish. Vesper. (Hostages if freed)

PLAYER TWO: PALLE

‘Mad Dog’ Mitchell. George Macarthur. Marcel Messnier. Arthur Spencer. Mr Smith.

PLAYER THREE: GOEG

Cultist leader. 5 x Cultists with small arms. Cultist with flame thrower. 2 x Armoured cultists.

PLAYER FOUR: JAN

The Scrap Yard Merchant. 7 x Strange civilians. Fishing boat skipper.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starting

The game for players one and two begins at the point where the prisoners are being taken from the boat. Starting from across the road, players one and two have four ‘free rounds’ to sneak closer to the cultists. In order to do this, players one and two must move, stealthed and undetected by the cultists and local civilians. For the first four rounds, the consequence of being detected (faiig a stealth vs perception roll) is a loss of movement. In other words, the detected element remains hidden, but may not move.

Players three and four start with all their elements in the western half of the table. Player three may position his armoured cultists as sentries.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Map

The roads are Good. Every where else on the table top is Rough, except in the Scrap Yard, and in the building interiors which are Difficult. The water is Impassable.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Victory conditions

Either side wins automatically by defeating two thirds of the opposing side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Special rules

Rocketman has two Hero Points in this game.

Any element attempting stealthed movement inside the scrap yard is hampered by all the junk lying around and suffers a -1 penalty.

Piles of junk and old cars give a +2 advantage against enemy fire. Wooden balconies, fences (its old wood) give +1, as does the sides of the fishing boat.

The two buildings closest to the road are houses, the southern of the two being older and in poor condition. It also has a small workshop to the west of the main building. Next along the cul-de-sac is a commecial building of some kind, possibly a decaying storage facility. Across from it is a storage shed for the fishing boat, and standing on the water, next to the jetty, is an abandoned house.

The fishing boat is moored, but has its engine still running.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Conclusion

This game was played on Wednesday 19th October. 2011.
Players were Jan, Oleg and Palle.

The game began with Rocketman and his companions in the trees on the east side of the main road watching as events unfurled. Oleg played Rocketman and Palle played Mitchell’s team. As the cultists began their monotonous chanting, the British agents began to move closer under the cover of darkness. Only Rocketman, encumbered by his heavy rockets was unable to successfully sneak into an advantageous position. Mitchell and Messnier moved quickly into the first house which they found lit by electric light though empty. A wireless was playing music. Dougal, Hamish, Ben Campbell and Vesper moved closer to the second house then around it. The two dour Scots took up firing positions to the front of the building, whilst Ben Campbell broke in through the front door. Vesper made her way around the back.

Mitchell and his team were soon in position to provide covering fire, and as the cultist with the flame thrower stepped forward, Mr Smith set up his suitcase mortar. ”You will burn in Al-Gata’s purifying fire!” screamed the cultist leader, upon which, the British agents opened fire. This opening salvo proved to be very efficient, as both opposing player’s generals were subsequently eliminated. (I don’t think we’ve ever seen that before! Since Goeg was ill and had had to bail, Jan was running all the cultists). The cultists were quite slow to react when the first mortar round went off in their midst, but they began to move to cover, and apparently forgot all about their hostages.

As both sides began firing at each other, Ben Johnson entered the ground floor of the second house where he found an unusual machine humming gently to itself. At first he wasn’t sure of what it was, but then as he drew nearer he saw it had a plaque on the front, with German writing, and gauges showing amps and voltage and he realised it was an electrical generator of some advanced design.

As the fire fight erupted, one particular cultist turned and ran towards the fishing boat. This individual did not waste any time and sprinted for the cabin. As he did, Mr Smith dropped a mortar round onto the fishing boat, but to no avail and the fishing boat skipper scrambled to untie the vessel from the jetty.

The cultists and the local civilians, who had been standing around watching, seemed to be acting strangely, as if they were in a state of shock, or under the influence of a drug. They moved slowly, seemed hesitant to engage obvious targets, and yet had enough purpose to engage in hand to hand fighting. Two of the cultists were tougher than the rest. They were wearing some form of body armour and despite taking a lot of fire; it was only when Mr Smith turned his mortar on them that they eventually died.

Rocketman in the meanwhile had taken to the sky, and flying in a wide arc he came around to land in the midst of the cultists and their affiliated civilians, who were gathered around the large shed. The cultists failed to engage him as he came in to land, some even stared in dull incomprehension, but once he had landed, they attacked him as best as they could but with little avail. Mansfield used his submachine on the first then knocked the others down with a serious of heavy punches and it was during this exchange that he notice that none of the cultists or civilians bled when shot.

In the meanwhile, Vesper moved to the south, along the back of the second house and its attached workshop. Here she found nothing of interest, so she moved stealthily through the undergrowth to the commercial building.

The fire fight between the cultists and the British agents culminated with the mortar strikes on the armoured cultists and Vesper taking control of the rear entrance to the commercial building. By this time, only two cultists remained and they were hiding in the front room of the commercial building, with the flame thrower. Rocketman sprayed the building with SMG fire, but the heavy timber construction defied his best attempts. Vesper entered the commercial building from the rear and was amazed to discover a large aubergine-like plant growing from the remains of several dead bodies. Careful not to get too close to this monstrosity she sneaked through the building to the front room, but realising that if she shot she might cause the flame thrower to explode, she retreated back outside.

Mr Smith then dropped his last mortar round through the roof and the explosion from the mortar round caused the flame to detonate. There was nothing left of the last two cultists after that. The British agents realised that not only had they killed every single cultist (save the two who had gotten away on the fishing boat), but they had rescued the hostages and had not suffered a single casualty!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The African Queen

2011-10-19T14:52:00.003+02:00

By C. S. Forester

Its always interesting to read historical literature which has been written in the distant past, for it opens windows providing views both to the time in which the book was written and to the time in which the story is set. Naturally, what you get is only the author's perspective but when the novel is a classic like 'The African Queen' then you can assume that as it was adopted by so many people, the novel must have had some kind of cultural resonance.

This novel is quite famous for its cultural resonance since it was adapted to the popular motion picture which won Humphrey Bogart his only Oscar, and although I haven't seen that film yet (I fully intend to do so soon) the movie was upper most in my mind when I read the book. I found myself constantly wondering why Catherine Hepburn had been cast in the role of Rose since she didn't seem to have any resemblance to the character at all. It wasn't hard to picture Bogart as Allnut though.

Having not paid much attention to the story before, I only realised what it was about when I wrote a blog post about the African steamer Liemba. That ship played the model for the German gun boat in the book, the Königin Luisa and it was interesting to see how Forester had interwoven his story with actual events.

The story is a good variant of the classic, 'metaphysical voyage up a tropical river', siilar in some ways to 'Heart of Darkness' or 'The Day of Creation', but with a greater subtlty and humour. On the whole, a really good book, and I wonder if the film will live up to it.

Artist of the Month; Michael Kaluta

2011-10-19T12:51:00.004+02:00

Its time to indulge myself in another great favourite I think; Michael Kaluta is an American illustrator and comic book author. Ever since I first started taking an interest in illustration, Kaluta was one of my primary sources of inspiration. His style, which is often convoluted and over flowing with detail, is one of those which stands out, especially from the modern, digital generation, and often has more than a hint of Alphonse Mucha about it (which is usually not a good thing, but in this case, it is). As often as not, its almost impossible to see what your looking at when you first look at one of Kaluta's illustrations, which is also something I've always admired. Many times I've looked at one of his illustrations for the twentieth time only to realise there were things happening that I hadn't noticed before.

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy

2011-10-17T02:52:00.004+02:00

By John le Carré
After having heard a few depressing attempts I shunned subsequent adaptations and BBC4 radio plays featuring the character Smiley for years, but having now seen the trailer for the upcoming movie I realised that if I was going to enjoy the story's first hand, I'd better read the books whilst I still had a chance. Also, I'm on the look out for a new genre of dramatic literature with which to sate the hunger that classic pulp/crime fiction left behind, and Cold War drama seems a likely candidate. Having read a few of Ludlum's novels, I'm hoping le Carré is better, and this novel, as a start, is promising.

The story unfolds without haste, building up a tangle of plot lines that gradually converge with disarming humility towards a quiet, but compelling climax. This is the first Le Carré novel I've read, I think, and I liked it. I've already ordered three more as a consequence.

I'm looking forward to the new film adaptation, but I think I'll keep an eye open for the old one too, the one with Alec Guiness. He was a good actor. Its probably well worth finding.

Dutch army dreams

2011-10-15T13:57:00.004+02:00

Slowly growing stronger, my long term Dutch army project has now received its first contingency of cavalry in the form of 12 cuirassiers and 6 dragoons. I've also bought a copy of the 'Field of Glory; Rennaisance' rulebook and as a consequence, we're looking at 6 figures for an infantry element and two horses for each cavalry element. This means that my small army has 9 cavalry elements, 10 infantry elements and 2 artillery elements. Enough I think to start painting!

Battle music

2011-10-14T14:55:00.002+02:00

I didn't think any one could take the bolero=war further than Holst did, but as themes for war go, this one is pretty powerful stuff!

The Saga of King Hrolf Kraki

2011-10-14T12:53:00.004+02:00

Every so often I like to read one of the sagas because they put Scandinavia into some sort of historical perspective. They don't really make for entertaining reading alas, since they are often disjointed and confused and tend to ramble all over the place and as often as not you've never heard of any of the people mentioned and the Saga of King Hrolf Kraki is more of the same. The main character doesn't even turn up until the last half of the book and since he dies not long there after, its a bit of a mystery as to why the saga is named for him. Perhaps his offspring commissioned it? What ever the reason, this is the dullest saga I've yet read, and this is despite magical beings, high adventure and plenty of epic Viking battle. The sad fact is, the whole thing is presented as a series of events which don't actually add up to a story, and this saga is best left to the historians.

Current projects and recent acquisitions

2011-10-09T15:32:00.006+02:00

Already nine days into october and I'm too busy painting and building models to blog about it. I recently made my largest ever purchase of models and miniatures, and the arrival of these coinciding with my preperations for Rocketman 7 (and Oleg's Sheev'dra campaign) have kept me very busy during the few hours left to me once my children have been oiled, polished and powered down for the night.

In the foreground, two triple-turretted T-28's from AGN. In front of them is the triple-turretted Vickers Mk III by Copplestone Casting for size comparison. These models will probably be used in RM11 games, possibly as Russian or Chinese.

Also from AGN; I bought three Char 1b's for which I have no current plans, but which I have longed to buy for years as the Char 1b is a quintessetial inter-war tank and a real gem of the multiple weapon system tank designs of the 1930's. They might have been out classed by German tactics in WW2 but I'm sure they'll prove devastating in Rocketman! All I need now is a scenario which features French tanks. In the foreground is a Vickers Mk II from Copplestone Casting for size comparison.

Lanchester heavy armoured car from Copplestone Casting. I like the design of this, and I may use it as a Chinese vehicle, but I have no immediate plans for this model. I bought it because I have two Rolls Royce armoured cars and this seems to complement them well.

This model is a converted 'steam tank' from Ironclad miniatures. I intend to use it as an 'African heavy tank' for RM8, so I left off the boiler which came with the model and replaced it with a trench crossing plate a la the FT-17 seen in the back ground.

I bought a lot of figures too, but I bought these cultists from Artizan Designs last year. These are for RM7 and I hope to be able to field them in the first game in two weeks time. Like most Artizan figures, they are of ambiguous quality and of the nine I bought, only seven are being painted as the two sub-machinegunners had no weapons to speak of. Missing or damaged weapons is, I find a common problem with Artizan figures and the reason seems to be because the weapons are too small for the casting process. Its annoying as the company ought to do a quality control before they send the figures. This isn't the first time I've had miniatures from Artizan which were essentially useless due to missing parts and 'casting bubbles'.

Artist of the Month; Ron Mueck

2011-09-23T13:20:00.003+02:00

Ron Mueck is one of those artists whose popularity is both self explanatory and well deserved. In an age of innovation, Mueck is ahead of most of his contemporaries and the way his work is received is evidence of just how far he is. Personally I have only seen two of his sculptures 'in the flesh', I saw 'Dead Dad' in the UK when I was a student, and one of the 'Boy' sculptures towers above the entrance hall at Aros art musuem here in Aarhus. Mueck is my artist of the month (after some contemplation) because I recently saw the images of his 'pregnant woman' (see image above) and I just love it.

Faster than light

2011-09-23T02:31:00.005+02:00

Today was one of those days when you know its good to be alive. It rained, then it shone, then it rained again. Brief heavy showers whilst the sun shone. Mette and I drove out to Tilst to look at dull but practical clothing they used to sell at Bilka, but to no avail. The men's section was both tiny and appeared to be stuck in a time warp. Wasted effort. After this, with Vilde creaking from the back seat, we drove to Trøjborg and ordered a new futon. 12 days delivery alas. We drove home and killed an hour in the best possible manner. Chicken sandwiches for lunch and then I went to pick up Freja who was playing Lego Batman at school. She was reluctant, until she learned that since she is learning to tell the time, we were going to buy her a wrist watch. She chose a pink one with little red hearts on the strap, then we stepped next door to the juice bar. She chose pink again. We collected conkers from the parking lot at Klostertorv and when we passed by the cafe, 'Under Masken' we came across the artist Hans Krull who was sitting with two friends, one of whom was Vigo Sommer. Krull had been painting as he often does outside the cafe, which I believe he owns, and I stopped to look at what he'd done. He has his own particular style which I like. He gave me the painting after having asked me my name so he could dedicate and sign it. They were all drunk, but even sober I doubt he'd remember me. It was almost twenty years since last I spoke with him. He said; "Art should be therapy I believe. Art should be free." His friends agreed with him. The woman told me it was a great honour to be given a genuine Krull. She wished he'd give her one. Krull said he would. I said I was sensible of the honour and I shook his hand. It's kind of an ugly picture but I love it anyway. It is a picture of a man's head and Krull thought I looked like the man in the picture he'd painted. Viggo Sommer was one big smile. he'd aged so much, I hardly recognised him until he spoke and then there was the unmistakble voice. Freja sat on the bike seat and watched with the indifference of childish ignorance. "I might as well give them away because no one can afford them anyway" Krull said. I smiled sadly. It was probably true. I would certainly commission him to paint me some figurative art, preferably big woman, if I was rich, but alas, I'm not and probably never will be. We continued on our way to pick up Magne who was over joyed to see us. When we got home, I showed the painting to Mette. Later I read that scientists at CERN have measured neutrino's moving faster than light. I'm not surprised. This probably explains why there is no unified field theory.

Lustrum

2011-09-19T23:20:00.003+02:00

By Robert Harris

This is the sequel to 'Imperium', and is the story of Cicero's time as Consul, his battles in the senate against the rise of Julius Caesar and the after effects of his many decisions. It is also yet another triumph of story telling by Robert Harris.

I thought I might have to wait a couple of years before I got to read this book, but I was wrong, and though the book was published in 2009, I never heard of it until recently so I've had to wait four years, though happily the wait was worth it. As always with Harris I was unable to put the book down once I'd reached two thirds of the way through, and now the story is finished I am anxious that I might have to wait four or more years to read the last book of the promised trilogy... and who knows what might happen in four years!? Come on Robert!

The first book in the series seemed to be filled with reflections regarding contemporary politics, not least the legacy of Tony Blair, and there was still a shadow of this in 'Lustrum', but I suppose Harris's intervening novel 'The Ghost' exorsized twenty first century politics to some degree because this story seemed to reflect Rome, and only Rome.

So many projects, so little time...

2011-09-11T02:59:00.003+02:00

...and theres just never enough time any more. Every evening I browse my usual haunts, looking for something to distract my mind whilst I work on which ever project has priority, currently I'm building a 'swamp house' for RM7, and I also have to finish my harbour crane by painting it. Then I have to finish another model house, this one a generic 'American style' wooden house, and also two commercial buildings which feature corrugated metal roofs. Then I have to paint a lot of packing cases which I built to go inside my commercial buildings. Apart from some wooden fence, and brick wall elements which also need painting, I only have to paint twenty odd figures and then I'm ready to start on the models for RM8...

Whilst all this is going on, my Norman Keep is sitting on my window sill, staring at me and any day soon, a client is due to inform me whether a set of drawings I did for her need to be corrected.

So much to do, and now its already 3am!

...which means its the tenth anniversary of 9/11. Already! Its horrific how short a decade is when your at the end of it. Its election time in Denmark at the moment (we vote on thursday) and the polls indicate a change of regime. The socialists stand to resume power, which they haven't had for a decade. I am not a big fan of socialism, in fact I think all ideologies are a curse that only lead to tears, so I'd be happier to see the current government continue. The fact is however, both sides of the political divide here are pro EU so I don't anticipate things are going to get better in Denmark, regardless of who wins, I only anticipate that things will get far worse, under a socialist government.

Special Assignments

2011-09-08T15:38:00.003+02:00

By Boris Akunin

Erast Fandorin is off again, this time in two shorter stories, gathered together into one book. Both stories follow the perspective of Anisii Tulipov whom Fandorin, now a powerfully well connected man, adopts as his assistant. This works well as Tulipov, shy, flawed but enthusastic, is an easy character to engage with. Certainly easier than the paragon of all virtue Fandorin.

The first story concerns a cheeky fraudster whose tricks cause Fandorin a measure of proffessional discomfort. The tale is rather humourous, but never really breaks into being funny. Nor does it provide much mystery if any as, as is often the case with Akunin, the culprit is not hidden but explored. This means the only real mystery is how Fandorin solves the case, and what will happen at the inevitable outcome.

The second story is some what better, and far more gruesome. It features no lesser a character than Jack the Ripper, whom it transpires was a Russian and who was never caught in London because he returned to Russia, where he ran up against Erast Fandorin. Thankfully the identity of the killer was obscured (I barked right up the wrong tree) so the mystery and the suspense remained intact. Of the two, I liked this story better.

ROSA

2011-09-05T02:42:00.000+02:00

ROSA Final Trailer from Jesús Orellana on Vimeo.

Jacob Sten Lund Olsen

2011-09-04T22:48:00.002+02:00

Jacob Sten Lund Olsen was killed at Gereshk, in Helmand province, Afghanistan on saturday 3rd September.

During a patrol, Lund Olsen and several other Danish soldiers were hit by IED. All were evacuated to Camp Bastion but unfortunately Jacob Sten Lund Olsen died of his injuries.

Jacob Sten Lund Olsen joined the Gardehusar Regiment in August of 2010 at Slagelse. After his initial training he continued in the regiments mechanised infantry company as a rifleman. He was despated to Afghanistan where he joined Bravo Company's second platoon. Jacob Sten Lund Olsen was 22 years old. May he rest in peace and may his family know that his death was not in vain.

Rocketman update

2011-09-02T16:50:00.005+02:00

Two more Rocketman campaigns are looming on the horizon, and I am now in full swing building the various models I will need (but still keeping the keep at hand so it doesn't get neglected). First up is a harbour crane made from 2mm book binding card for RM7. Its only meant for a single game, or possibly two, so it doesn't have to be overwhelming. When its finished though, I'll paint it all rusty and old so I'm hoping it will look the part. RM7 & 8 will run seven games from 19' Oct and will feature evil cultists in the Florida Everglades, a gun battle in Cuba and a trip upriver to the dark heart of the Congo!

MV Liemba

2011-08-29T21:21:00.004+02:00

According to Wikipedia the MV Liemba is a passenger and cargo ferry that runs along the eastern shore of Lake Tanganyika, and according to the BBC, she is in dire need of refurbishment. This is because the MV Liemba, was built in 1913, and was formerly the German warship Graf von Götzen.

Graf von Götzen's main armament was a 105mm gun

This remarkable ship was built in Germany then freighted to Africa in 5,000 crates and dragged over land to the lake where it served Germany's imperial interests in the first world war. The British did the same, only they dragged two gunboats to Lake Tanganyika, and the end result was the Germans scuttled Graf von Götzen in 1916. Some of the story behind the two British gun boats can be read here.

Graf von Götzen remained submerged until 1924 when a Royal Navy salvage team raised her and found she was still in excellent condition (thats German engineering for you). She was cleaned up and recommissioned as the Liemba and has been in service ever since. As far as I know, she is the only World War One era war ship still in use today. The people who own her are requesting from Germany. I think if I was Chancellor, I'd give them a new ship as a present.

MV Liemba as she is today

If I had the time and the space, I'd be tempted to make a card model of the vessel for a Rocketman campaign. She has those classic lines that inspire the pulp/noir genre, and she'd make a great platform for a gun fight game.

Pissing in the wind

2011-08-28T02:10:00.005+02:00

Two of Denmarks televison channels raised 110 million kroner in the cause of starving Africans today and a lot of my family and friends on facebook have expressed pride and satisfaction. 110 million kroner is about $21 million US, or £13 million Sterling. Not bad for a small country like ours.

Unfortunately I cannot share the joy, because I no longer believe raising ever larger sums of money to give to the Horn of Africa is going to change anything at all. Denmark alone forks out 15 billion kroner a year on foreign aid and even this collosal amount of money hasn't prevented the people of that blighted region from waging non stop civil wars (with attendant genocides) or from having the planet's highest fertility rates.

If anything I am dejected that a quarter of a century after Live Aid, we still maintain the illusion that throwing alms to the poor is going to solve anything at all. It is especially galling that a significant proportion of the money and food sent to alleviate suffering in the third world, is stolen by corrupt officials in the recipient countries and in the UN, which has degenerated beyond the absurd as a means of solving geopolitical problems. In many cases aid money raised by charity in the west buys the very weaponry and ammunition which is a part of the cause of problems faced by the starving multitude.

The female of the species

2011-08-27T22:18:00.003+02:00

By Sapper

The fifth Bulldog Drummond novel, originally published in 1928, is the first novel I have read, featuring Drummond, since the mid 1990's. For some reason, although I loved the interwar ambience of the first four (which I have gathered in a single volume), I never bothered to look for any sequels until now. Turns out there are fifteen of them, so I shall look forward to reading a few more, though more as a consequence of the first four than of this one.

'The female of the species' doesn't really live up to its predessesors, and this is almost certainly due to the fact that, unlike them, the story is narrated by a character in the book. The fact that the principle antagonist of the first books is missing (having been killed off) doesn't help either, nor does the fact that the premise of this story rests on a plan of revenge hatched by the dead man's insane lover. The story is incredibly parochial, even for a novel of this character, and the author's attempt at a serious femme fatale is laughably inept. Irma made for quite a sly and mysterious side kick in the previous novels and its rather a shame to see the character so poorly misused.

moifling soup

2011-08-26T22:00:00.002+02:00

Here is an updated image of me and the children for any one who hasn't see this on FB. This picture was taken about six weeks ago.

Norman keep update 3

2011-08-24T01:01:00.005+02:00

Another late night post squeezed in between multiple projects; the keep is still WIP but lives yet! Work is slow as applying lots of little cork bricks takes time, and I don't have that much spare time since I am bound by parental obligation to burn several hours a day entertaining the Snoos and playing 'Lego; Pirates of the Caribbean'. Not that I mind playing games with my daughter. I'm enjoying that all I can, whilst I can. She won't be six for ever.

The keep gets a few hours each evening, and slowly but surely it is taking on the appearance of a building. As you can see above, wall A has been fully clad and looks pretty good. The buttresses work more or less okay, though the central buttresses of level one are out of sync by a whole millimeter of the ground level so when the lighting is directly above, it casts some irritating shadows from the over lap. I'll rectify this later by removing the offending bricks and adjusting the buttress on the ground level.

Wall D with toilet, partially clad. There are small holes every where because sometimes the wood glue has to dry before I can add the last few bricks. Originally I was going to put two toilets on this side of the building, but I decided against this as a keep this size probably couldn't boast two toilets (even this one is fairly over sized, but this is due to the base size of my figures).

I've also begun tiling the roof and here I have run into another small dilemma. I want the model to look realistic, and the best way to do this is to add wear n tear, but the building is also supposed to look new and in use, so I can't have the raggedy roof tiles I usually resort to. Instead, I've cut nicer tiles, but added a few places where time has taken its toll. I'm hoping these will work well when the model is finally completed and painted.

The Phantom Ship

2011-08-23T22:38:00.002+02:00

By Captain Marryat

The good thing about old books is that they seldom conform to formulaic modern ideas of story telling. The bad thing is, they often ramble down side tracks and go on about all manner of clap trap (just read '20,000 Leagues under the sea' for example). 'The Phantom Ship' was first published 172 years ago, so its pretty old, and it doesn't conform to any modern notion of story telling, though the blurb on the book insists it has inspired such authors as Conrad and Woolf. It also rambles, a lot!

Rambling isn't such a bad thing, only for much of the novel, Marryat rambles on about the religious fall out of the protagonist's quest and since the protagonist is a the son of the captain of the Flying Dutchman, and is set on saving his father, but is a Catholic, and married to a Muslim convert's daughter, and is often travelling in the company of a ghost, and is friends with two different religious nutters, and whose best friend is haunted by a were wolf's curse... well sometimes, it gets a bit tough to chew through.

I wouldn't mind the constant side tracking, except for the fact that the book was meant to be a maritime classic, and whilst its true enough that the characters do sometimes find themselves on ships, these vessels play no part in the story and are merely a means of moving from A to B. Several times the protagonist leaves Holland only to arrive at South Africa within the space of a single sentence. This is particularly disapointing as the author was an experienced sailor, and coupled with the religious navel gazing was too much for my patience to bear. I finished the book eventually, but I didn't care for it.

moif's bad Danish art rant

2011-08-20T00:31:00.009+02:00

Most of the time, I ignore other Danish people's ideas regarding what constitutes good art, because if I didn't, I would almost certainly consume myself in an ungovernable rage. Sometimes however, usually when some eager politician or an individual-with-no-taste-and-too-much-money gets a bright idea with regards to 'smartening up' Aarhus, I am provoked to indignation. A decade or so ago some powerful members of Copenhagen's cultural elite did one of their own a favour and unloaded a pile of junk known as the 'Water Dragon' onto us. This leaking pile of expensive scrap metal (known to locals as 'the urinal') now dominates our central plaza and does a brilliant job of making us look even more provisional than we already do. At the time, public opinion was largely opposed to the sculpture with most locals (or at least those who had any opinion) preferring something by a local artist, of which there were several candidates. This opposition from the common herd made no impact on the cultural elite of Copenhagen.

Recently, Aros (an amazingly expensive art museum erected in the centre of the city around the same time as the 'Water Dragon' was being foisted upon us) forked out another vast quantity of money on a 'work of art' designed to bring international attention to Aarhus. In the image above you can see how Aros, the big brick cube looming behind the houses, manages to convey a subtle sense of the sublime... by looking like a big brick cube. Stuck on top, and looking like a misplaced multi-coloured halo, is the 'stunning work of art' designed to inspire foreign awe and exclamations of admiration. The big idea is, you walk around inside it and look at the view through the various shades of horribly expensive glass.

Now, Aarhus faces its latest artistic challenge in the shape of a 72 m tall abstract statue by the late Robert Jacobsen (an artist whose work has no relevance to modern Denmark what so ever and whose legacy is tediously guarded by his own, diminishing generation). Weighing in at 1,800 tons this monstrosity, named 'Big Robert' is almost as big as the statue of Liberty. No one seems to want it, indeed several other cities have already turned the horrible thing down, but if things go the way they usually do, this 'important work of art' will probably be dumped in Aarhus by the cultural elite in Copenhagen so that they can have a good laugh at our expensive.

I would like to take the time to publicly announce that in my opinion, the 'Water Dragon', Aros's technicolour crown, and 'Big Robert' are all perfect examples of the sort of bad art only large amounts of money in the hands of morons can buy. If I had the means, I would wage a clandestine campaign to erase these objects from existence and replace them with beautiful, imaginative works of art, probably something figurative, probably something which reflected the culture of Denmark and not the tedious thought processes of mediocre artists whose only recourse of expression is the abstract.

Artist of the Month; Archibald Knox

2011-08-18T01:44:00.009+02:00

Archibald Knox is my favourite graphic artist of the Art Nouveau crowd, beating Mucha as a designer and calligrapher, though not as a painter. Knox's strength lies in his highly stylised texts, which use interlocking patterns to great effect. Often termed 'Celtic', they are far more Scandinavian in style and with their long loops and tight clusters, they look like the asymmetrical patterns found on many rune stones and the wooden carvings on Urnes stave church in Norway. Drawn by hand, and coloured with water based paints, Knox's texts have that beautiful raw quality which, despite having been copied a million times since, is really only ever found in Victorian illustration work.

I've copied Knox's style on several occaisions (example), and the thing I've noticed is that although I love the fact that you can hardly read what it says, most people find this rather annoying, and in the modern world, with the constant emphasis on speed and ease of communication, graphic design of this variation is unfortunately not often in demand.

Norman keep update 2

2011-08-07T01:15:00.004+02:00

Oleg's probably going to tease me for my poor lighting, but never mind, its 2 am, I'm lazy and here are some more snaps of the model. The underlying structure is now finished and I've slowly begun adding cork to the exterior as I make the interlocking pieces that hold each level in place. Levels one and two have the structure of their internal walls completed, but I've not really started on levels three and four yet.

This is the first level (basement storage, or dungeon?). I added cork to the top of the walls but this wasn't really necessary. It just seemed to be more aesthetically pleasing. I'll probably add a stone staircase in the corner at some point.

Level one. Possibly a kitchen or a guard room. The stair to the next level will be in the space directly behind the figure. This means the model is no longer architecturally accurate, but the lay out does mean defending elements will always be able to double against incoming elements, which means the defenders will always have an advantage, which I suppose is historically accurate. The hole in the floor will be the trap door to the cellar stairs. All the interior walls will be clad with cork, so its going to be a lot tighter than it looks now.

Level four, and here I've done some cork cladding experiments. Due to mistakes, two of the arched windows are slightly out of line with the lower windows and the buttresses, but not enough to be annoying. The window pictured above (wall B) is the prettiest of the two I've clad.

The top of the tower, showing the roof (as yet unglued), battlements and the turret. Some of the crenelations have been experimentally clad, but only on their outer faces. There will be enough room, for one element to stand on each the outer walls, except for wall C where two elements can stand side by side. This is the wall which will also have hoardings above the entrance. There is no specific architectural or historical reason why this one side of the building should be wider than the other three, but it seemed a good idea to be able to place two elements beside each other if I ever want to have roof top combat.

The model as it stands now is 14 inches tall. Thats 355mm. With additional cork on the turret battlements, it may reach to about 357mm. The archway over the entrance is an experiment and I think it looks wrong, so it will be replaced.

I've begun to design the gate house now. It will have three inner levels and a roof top battlement. It won't be as big as the keep, but it will still be a pretty imposing building. I've based my design on the gate house at Kalø Vig rather than Rochester because my model is closer in size to Kalø and because Oleg has already made a gate house with round towers and I want to do something different from his model.

Red Tails

2011-08-06T00:47:00.003+02:00

I've been waiting for this movie for a while now. George Lucas better not fuck this one up!

Edited to add second trailer

Get More: Movie Trailers, Movies Blog

Viking Voyage

2011-08-03T23:33:00.001+02:00

A documentry (in English) about 'Havhingsten'.

A British view of Denmark

2011-08-03T03:11:00.000+02:00

'Havhingsten' at 09:35.

Norman keep; historical references

2011-08-02T23:21:00.013+02:00

Rochester Castle. Having lived next door to it for two years, my primary source of inspiration has always been Rochester Castle. At the time, I didn't fully appreciate just how important the castle was, from a purely architectural perspective, and I regarded it as something of a typical Norman fortification. I later understood that by the standards of the period in which it was built, Rochester is quite a large castle.

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Hedingham Castle in Essex. Originally, very similar to Rochester, Hedingham has survived to this day as an intact, and functioning building. Although parts of the original keep have long since been scavaged for other buildings, and the rest of the castle is missing, Hedingham provides a very useful comparison to Rochester.

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Kalø Castle. Though it was built 247 years after the Norman invasion of England, Kalø still bears a lot of similarities to Norman designed castles. Its a relatively small castle but it was strategically effective, and it was the biggest motivating factor in my decision to start my model. For me the most important aspect of Kalø is it showed how a full scale castle, with multiple buildings and defensive positions, could be fitted on to a regular table top.

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Porchester Castle. It was from Porchester that I got the idea of adding so many buttresses to my model. These are meant to provide detail to the model to prevent it from becoming a mere dull box-with-battlements

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Other Norman castles of interest;
Colchester Castle. The largest keep ever built by the Normans. Today, only the ground floor remains, but this is in good condition.
Helmsley Castle. Not much is left of Helmsley's keep, but one wall still stands and gives a good idea of how a smaller Norman keep might have been laid out. It is deceptive however since the collapsed side did not mirror the remaining wall but was semi circular.

The Tower of London. One of the biggest and probably the best preserved Norman keep
Longtown Castle, Herefordshire.
Ludlow Castle. Shropshire.
Carisbrooke Castle. Isle of White.
Castle of Melfi. Basilicata.
Pickering Castle. One of William I's original Motte & Bailey castles, Pickering is a good example of a wooden fortification thatw as 'uparmoured' to stone.
Clitheroe Castle. Lancashire. One of the smallest Norman keep's in the UK
Trim Castle. County Meath. The largest Norman keep in Ireland.

Other interesting castles, similar in design to Norman castles;
Bolton Castle. Wensleydale.
Dolwyddelan Castle. Conwy.

See also;

Watch tower model by Oleg

2011-08-02T22:30:00.006+02:00

This is Oleg's recently built, watch tower model. It was built over a period of a few weeks, in June and July and is destined to play a part (as far as I understand) in a fantasy role playing campaign. It is a dual purpose model, capable of representing both a well maintained tower, or a ruin. It has no direct historical reference, but the roof is inspired by various Eastern European buildings.

When I saw this model, unpainted but more or less complete, I realised that it demonstrated how to build my Norman style castle without the heavy use of polyfilla. Oleg had built a previous, far larger tower, but that was cylindrical and my mind didn't quite make the connection to a Norman fortification. As soon as I saw this model, the seed which had lain dormant in my mind was watered and began to grow! The image below shows the lower level wall which was my primary source of inspiration.

The basement level; Oleg uses a lot more sand in his models than I do and with this model, the inner walls have been given a coat of sand to provide texture.

All the various component parts, unpainted...

...and painted. Note the basement level features a well and the entrance level features a fire place. There is also a chimney that climbs up through each level.

The roof in progress with its double angle slope and belfry.

The tower in ruin mode; grounded...

...and painted.

Rear view. Note the wall beneath the arrow slot shows signs of having been repaired at some point

9 - The original version

2011-08-01T09:57:00.000+02:00

Norman keep update

2011-07-31T01:35:00.009+02:00

Construction continues on this most ambitious project and I've reached the point where measurement mistakes made at the beginning can have a catastrophic result. I'm currently working on level 4 and I've already made several changes to the original design in order to make the model work. This is totally cool though, as solving the problems along the way is a good proportion of the fun in scratch building models.

Curiously, one of the biggest problems I've found has been the buttresses and once the levels are all completed, I think I shall have to have a good carving session with my scalpel to harmonise a few edges. I had expected the buttresses to be relatively easy as they are made from pre-cut wood and consequently all have the same measurements, but even though the card walls align, often the buttresses do not. The buttress on one corner in particular, on the second level, is at least 3mm out of line with the first and third levels.

Level 2 inner walls, with deep arrow slots for archers.

Level 3 outer walls; I made a massive mistake and put these walls in upside down. This meant I had to adjust most of the windows. Level 3 is meant to be a 'great hall', so the level is 10mm taller than the other layers and will be dominated by one large room. I have already revised my design for this level three times since I drew it up and I'm still not sure how I'm going to do the internal walls. The problem lies in balancing between a realistic model and a model which can be used for playing skirmish war games. Some compromises are necessary and its always fun to work around the requirements of the games.

Level 4 outer walls. The story so far. Level 4 is the Lord of the Castle's apartment and will feature two toilets! It is the last internal level of the main tower, whilst the turret will have one more level to form a higher vantage point for the guards as well as a means of accessing the battelements. I also have an idea of building attachable hoardings to sit above the entrance.

Dreams of Scandinavia

2011-07-27T17:06:00.006+02:00

The flag is flying at half mast at the Norwegian consulate on Stor torv (the central plaza of Aarhus) and the entrance to the building is barricaded with a small mountain of flowers. Six days since the massacre at Utøya and the news of a Danish casualty is the current head line. Hanne Anette Balch Fjalestad was a 43 year old medic who was on the island with her daughter Anna. Her body was identified in a local hospital and her father was notified. He is quoted at DR; "She died for Norway, and she will be buried in Norway".

I think most Scandinavians are feeling the same these days. Sadness, mixed with anger, confusion, some despair perhaps, but also a little hope for the future. Mass shootings are not uncommon and terrorism seems to have become daily fare, with equal numbers slaughtered on a regular basis in some parts of the world... yet for all that, Norway is almost like a Utopia and one doesn't expect Norwegians to act like this. Everyone I have spoken to has expressed the opinion that the murderer must be insane, because no sane person could carry out such an atrocity, but I'm conflicted on this. Plenty of sane people have carried out mass killing because they believed in what they were doing. I don't know whether insanity in the scientific definition of the word played any part in the murders on Utøya and at Oslo, but plain old fashioned madness certainly did.

I can't really say I am all that surprised that a major terrorist attack finally took place in Scandinavia (there have been so many thwarted already), or even that it was a Norwegian who attacked other Norwegians, (though I was expecting bombings in Sweden against Muslims) ...not after the political climate of the last decade or so. Now the left is predictably accusing the right of having fostered a malignant atmosphere and demanding the right take a share in the responsibility for the attacks, and predictably the right is replying in a similar vein. The truth, which is seldom referred to by ideologues, is that extremism exists every where and in every ideology and the murderer could just have easily justified his actions by reference to any of them.

The best part about living in Scandinavia are the freedoms we have. Any ideology that threatens those freedoms is suspect to my way of thinking and I include all political ideologies as potentially suspicious. I don't care for political parties because they are inherently ideological and I find the idea of political youth organisations to be offensive to my sensibilities. I don't understand why people accept the idea that the political indoctrination of children, however benign it may appear, is of any benefit to a democratic society. It seems to me that political parties foster political elites, and these inbred groups become locked into intractable ideological battles with each other that serve only to cripple democratic choices for the greater population.

My greatest fear for the future and for my children is not multiculture or immigration, by themselves these things are a part of life, but the loss of democratic freedom which I see as the only logical conclusion to the European Union. The EU is ruled by a blinkered political elite whose members were raised, and indoctrinated by ideological youth movements and the EU, with its internal corruption, its lack of democratic accountability, its aggressive attitude towards the sovereignty of its member states and its complete disregard for any poll or referenda which runs counter to its political designs, is the biggest threat to the peace and stability of Scandinavia.

No one but the murderer is responsible for the terror of Utøya, but the political classes, with their reptilian need to adhere to their obsessive ideologies bear the responsibility for the climate of fear and antagonism which has become traditional on Planet Earth.

I expect more terrorism in the near future because none of these ideological groups is going to back down first.

Musical inspiraton; 'Cold Magma'

2011-07-27T12:26:00.003+02:00

I can't get enough of those soaring synth tones!

Norman keep

2011-07-26T22:22:00.007+02:00

I have the glory of a few weeks of spare time (not quite a holiday) and its almost like the good old days when we only had one child and I had all the time I wanted to use on building models. I haven't had this much time for making building models since August last year! The obvious thing to do would be to complete some of the projects I have lying around in various stages of completion (some have been waiting for over five years) but never mind that! Inspired by Kalø Vig, and Oleg's recent model of a watch tower (more on that at a later date I hope) I have embarked on a very ambitious project; the central keep of a Norman style castle!

Its been my ambition to make a Norman castle ever since I started building model buildings, and one of the first models I began in 2004 was such a Norman keep. That model was made by gluing four thick lumps of wood together for each level and then cladding them in sculpted polyfilla. The results were less than impressive and I lost interest in the model pretty quickly. I later tried to resurrect the model when I made my first Takshendal campaign, but I failed, and the model stood around for a year or so before I eventually got rid of it. I was going to just bin it, but Oleg took it back to his place (though I'm not sure why). I also gave him the castle wall elements I'd built as I decided that any new castle project would require its own walls.

The original plan was to build an entire castle, based on Rochester and the first keep I'd built was actually just meant to be a wall tower. In my naive ambition I even had a vision of a keep with a 40x 40cm base and multiple corner turrets. I gave this up when I realised just how much storage space such a monster model would require, and how little actual use I would have for it. The dream to build a modular castle never left me though and as you can see in the sketch above, it still lingers in my mind. The model keep I am building now is the central building of this project.

This time around, the building is made from book-binder's card (1½ or 2mm thick) with internal wooden support and clad in cork. Later I'll add a polyfilla wash, then paint and varnish it. Working in card is much easier than working in solid wood and I can add a lot more details as a result. I was worried that card might warp too much, but Oleg's watch-tower, and the tramp steamer I made for Rocketman a few years back, both demonstrated how strong a card structure could be and so far the model has not shown any serious warpage.

The first storey, complete with a store room/dungeon. The walls at this level are three meters thick, and the turret is solid all the way through. The figure marks the spot where a draw bridge will be (still not sure how I'll go about that).

The Death of Achilles

2011-07-23T16:57:00.004+02:00

By Boris Akunin

The dexterous detective appeared almost immediately and - shoot or wait? The 'huncback' was holding his revolver at the ready; his reactions were lightning fast, and he would start shooting at the slightest movement. Achimas squinted with the eye that had no membrane in it. Was that the familiar Herstahl? Could this be the same 'merchant' who had been in Knabe's apartment?

The fourth book in the series sees Erast Fandorin returning to Russia after a stay in Japan as a diplomat. The story begins as he gets off the train to find Moscow is not the city he left. Almost at once however a murder is committed, and the victim is none other than General Sobolov who played so dashing a part in 'The Turkish Gambit'. Fandorin is drawn into the mystery at once and soon sets about investigating. The first half of the story is excellent. Fandorin, accompanied by various allies (and his trusty Japanese man servant) calls upon his old mentor XavierFeofilaktovich to track down the culprits, and as in the previous novels, there are numerous twists and false hares to detract the readers attention.

The story breaks off as Fandorin nears the main bad guy however, and the book suddenly restarts, with the antagonist as the main character. The whole story repeats itself from the oppositie perspective until the second narrative reaches the end of the first and the book concludes with a show down.

I would like to love these novels, but I can't. Although Akunin has a good eye for deails and spins a good yarn along the way, his protagonist is simply too much of a paragon, and Fandorin's near total brilliance in all things becomes oppressive. That he is now become a ninja after a few years in Japan is symptomatic of the problem and if the blurb on the back of the books is anything to judge by, where the word 'pastiche' continues to surface, others have not missed this detail either. As good as the stories are, Fandorin, even for a pulp style antagonist, is just too good at everything, and this reduces the novel from good, to okay.

Lucien Freud 1922 - 2011

2011-07-22T02:49:00.004+02:00

He was known as the greatest living artist of the United Kingdom when his painting 'Benefits supervisor sleeping' sold for $33.6 million. It made Lucien Freud, who was the grandchild of the famous psycho-analyst Sigmund Freud, world famous as the artist whose painting had sold for the highest price - whilst they still lived. Now he is dead, aged 88, and there is no one like him to succeed his reign. Figurative art has waned in popularity in recent decades and perhaps Freud was the end of a long and rich tradition.

Artist of the Month; Kay Nielsen

2011-07-21T13:20:00.008+02:00

Kay Nielsen was a Danish artist whose greatest claim to fame was a brief period at Disney, where he was responsible for the 'Night on Bald Mountain' scene from the film 'Fantasia'. Having reached this illustrious pinnacle of acheivement he then sank back into relative obscurity. Luckily there was more to Nielsen than that, and he left behind a series of fantastical illustrations in much the same highly stylised and colourful vein as Bauer and Dulac.

Nielsen was born of two actors in København in 1886, so he missed the great creativity of the time and as an artist he must have come of age in the years before the first world war when Art Nouveau had burned out as a movement, but its creative imeptus was still strong. Nielsen's work shows a heavy emphasis of Art Nouveau's influence, yet at the same time it also harks back to the Victorian and Scandinavian children's illustration traditions. The Great War put an end to that golden era and Nielsen sought ever further afield for glorious opportunities, often relying on his connections in the theatrical world for work. Eventually this took him to California and Disney and he must have thought he'd finally made it. Alas, after he was laid off, he sank into poverty and his work has been forgotten by most. He died in 1957.

Kay Nielsen gallery at Art Passions.

Kalø castle

2011-07-20T17:05:00.021+02:00

The castle seen from the causeway

Kalø is the nearest surviving medieval castle to Aarhus and it was the regional centre of power in the early middle ages when the local Jutes rebelled against the authority of the Danish king (it was built in 1313 by King Erik Menved). Mette and the children and I went to visit it today as I was curious to see it and the girls wanted to go to a beach. No one asked Magne what he thought.

The castle today is a mere ruin. The keep still stands, but as a hollowed out, eroded old shell, and around it are the out lines of the secondary buildings, the outer walls and the earth works upon which it all stood. The latter are still in very good condition. The castle stands on an island which was attached to the mainland by a causeway road, roughly half a kilometre in length. The road is still there, but its an ankle breaking nightmare to walk on (especially with small children eating ice cream) and as always when I encouter ancient roads I wonder what they were like when they were new. This one was in appalling condition.

The remains of the gate house and bridge with a view over Kalø Vig

One can get a good impression of the surrounding land by viewing the panoramic views on offer at Panoramas.dk. Kalø Vig is typical Viking country, with a great shallow bay surrounded by fertile farming land and its not hard to think back to the 1300's and imagine what it must have looked like then. Then the castle must have been an impressive sight but today the biggest and most obvious structure is Studstrup Power Station which looms on the western bank of the Vig, gleaming white in the sunlight. Aarhus sits further to the south as you can see on the map below and Studstrup is just about half way between the city and the castle.

The bay of Kalø Vig

The castle island and the cause way

Birds eye view of the castle

At the ruin was a government information placard which detailed planned renovations. I couldn't quite make out if the government was planning to rebuild the castle in its entirety, and had added an illustration of what the castle might eventually come to look like (see above), or were simply undertaking to safe guard the ruins against further erosion and had added an illustration for fun. Either way, the illustration on the placard far exceeded the meager ground plan on the information leaflets (see below) which were available at the nearby parking lot/ice cream stand.

1. Outer moat. Once connected to the sea, this is now two tepid pools of rain water.
2. Previously there was a large farm here, with accomidation for personnel and horses.
3. Inner moat.
4. Gate house
5. Outer courtyard.
6. Toilet.
7. Smithy.
8. Inner courtyard.
9. The lord of the castle's house.
10. Kitchens and ancillary buildings.
11. Living quarters for artisans and the priest
12. Administration building
13. More ancillary buildings, presumably for storage.
14. The keep.

The keep, seen from the gate house with the remains of the lord of the castle's house to the left.

The castle isn't particularly big, but its very interesting, epecially when I compare it to Rochester castle which is older and larger. Kalø pacified a more rural society than Rochester and its size, style and lay out illustrate this. The keep, which dominates the ruin, is far smaller than the keep at Rochester, and for the first time, I have a really good mental impression of just how impressive Rochester must have been when it was built. Walking about the ruins today, with a twentieth century mind, Rochester seems so small as to be absurd, but Kalø is so small its a wonder any one could have lived there (yet historians believe 'several hundred people' might once have lived on the island). Kalø, where the lord of the castle lived in a house rather than inside the keep, really puts Rochester into perspective.

I counted five levels inside the keep, but apart from the obvious, battlements, cellar, etc, I'm not sure what they were. At various times in its history the castle was used to hold important prisoners, and presumably this is where they were kept, so the lowest level, might have been a dungeon I suppose. On the diagram of the castle, building 13 is described in Danish as a cellar, though I could clearly see it rose above ground level, and I wonder if there is more underneath the castle, hidden away from public view. Perhaps a real dungeon lies beneath?

For some reason everything was clad in red brick but the insides of the walls were filled with rocks and mortar, so given how Danish castles usually look, I assume this could just be a matter of style, rather than inadequate building materials. Most of the ruins were clad in sharp edged bricks which looked almost fresh and I think perhaps the ruins have been clad with new bricks at some point, possibly to protect them.

The keep seen from across the inner moat

Murder on the Leviathan

2011-07-19T12:27:00.003+02:00

By Boris Akunin

"Those are revolver shots!" exclaimed Sir Reginald. "But where from?"
"The commissioners cabin!" Fandorin snapped, dashing for the door.

I was half way through this book before I noticed it had a number 2 on the spine. It took me a few moments, but then I realised that this novel was the second book, written after the first Fandorin adventure, but it takes place, chronologically, after 'The Turkish Gambit', and I was reading the books chronologically, as they were presented on Wikipedia. Too make matters worse I forgot to take this book with me on holiday and so I ended up reading after the fourth book!

This story is written in the manner of an Agatha Christie mystery and consequently places me at a disadvantage as, although I've seen and enjoyed hundreds of television and cinematic adaptations of her work, I've never read any of Christie's books. I can't say therefore if this is a well done attempt at emulating her style or not. As a novel in its own right, its ...adequate, but I fear that I may have been missing the point due to my ignorance of Agatha Christie's style. The story seemed rather simplistic for example, but perhaps Agatha Christie's novels were rather simple...?

As a story then, this book only just squeezes past two stars. I saw the twist coming chapters ahead and was underwhelmed by the subsequent second twist. I thought the format of multiple perspectives was slightly annoying as it broke the flow of the story and the portrayal of Erast Fandorin was consequently too obscure to really mean much. I like my protagonists to be present. So far this has been the dullest of the series.

Farewell you Big Beautiful Doll

2011-07-13T21:27:00.004+02:00

Yet another vintage aeroplane from World War Two crashed on 10th July. 'Big Beautiful Doll', a P51 North American Mustang went down at Duxford after colliding with a Sky Raider. Luckily the pilots both survived.

And here she is in better times...

Currently...

2011-07-11T19:27:00.006+02:00

...things are going pretty good, all aspects of life taken into consideration. We just got back from a short holiday on the Danish west coast with Mette's parents and her brother Kristian Momme (aka Uncle Krigga to the kids). I don't have any photographs as I let Kristian do all the shooting and since we all came home, illness has struck most of us down though not me. Presumably I'll get some photo's from Kristian at some point...

Whilst we are at the coast, I forked out a tidy sum on various entertainments for the kids, and was amazed at how expensive everything seems to have become. The local swimming centre charged as much for Magne (2 years old) as for me. Luckily both Magne and Freja enjoyed the place immeasurably so I guess I should look on the bright side.

The local fauna took a great liking to me too. We were only there for a week, but I managed to rack up four ticks and a double tap to the leg from an irritated carpenter wasp. I'm not sure what the wasp was irritated about as I was dozing on my bed when it stabbed me twice through my trousers for no apparent reason. In my indignation I killed it alas, but I wish I hadn't.

The ticks were no big deal though they can carry disease. Freja attends a 'forest kindergarten' so she was used to ticks, and one of the old hands at the kindergarten once told Mette that he'd probably had a thousand ticks in his time, and never suffered any ill effects at all. Given that ticks can carry Lymes Disease, I'm keeping an eye open during the incubation period, but I'm not too concerned, and I found I was almost indifferent to the idea of having my blood sucked. I thought I'm be slightly squeamish but I wasn't concerned in the least. Mette got one a tick on her back and Magne got one on his throat, but Freja remained untouched, despite the fact that she was running about in the undergrowth more than any of us.

Rght now I'm working on a set of drawings which have to be finished ASAP, but nce thats out of the way, I'm hoping to catch up on various unifinished projects!

Alexander Biune

2011-07-11T19:15:00.003+02:00

23 year old Konstabel Alexander Biune was killed yesterday morning by an explosion in Helmand province, Afghanistan. He was from Charlie Company of the Jydske Dragoon Regiment.

Biune joined the military in February 2010, and he leaves behind his parents, his girl friend and his two younger sisters. Commander of the Danish Battle Group Col. Jens Riis, wrote in his memorial;

"Alexander was a proud example of a soldier, with all the qualities we in the Danish Battle Group desire in all our soldiers. He was eager to do his best and demonstrated a will to make things work as best as possible, to help other people and to excell in all he did. There are none better".

Johnny Mad Dog

2011-07-11T14:45:00.004+02:00

Dir; Jean-Stéphane Sauvaire

This film came out of no where. Shown on late night television whilst we were at the summer house last week, I watched it with Mette's brother, known to the kids as 'Uncle Krigga'. The film is the story of a boy soldier who commands a band of even younger boys during the Liberian civil war and it is raw and uncompromising in its portrayal. Like 'Lord of the Flies' meets 'Full Metal Jacket' in its intensity, the portrayal by the young actors of violent, insane children makes Stanley Kubrick's 'A Clockwork Orange' seem hopelessly quaint.

This is without a doubt one of the best war films I've ever seen. In scene after scene, the tragedy of African conflict, and by extension the realites of war for human beings, is shown mercilessly, and I found myself musing on the contrasts of chance as I, a well fed and middle aged European, watched young skinny Africans suffering horrendous miseries, and essentially for my entertainment. Any film that can tell a story which some how touches us has to be worth a good review so this one gets a full five stars from me.

The Turkish Gambit

2011-07-11T10:33:00.003+02:00

By Boris Akunin.

"And is it moral to sit and watch from a safe distance while people k-kill each other?" It was a miracle, there was actually a trace of human feeling - irritation - in Erast Petrovich's voice. "Thank you k-kindly, I have already observed this spectacle and even p-participated in it. I did not like it. I prefer the company of T-Tacitus" - and he demonstratively stuck his nose back in his book.

The second novel in the Erast Fandorin series, 'The Turkish Gambit' takes the form of a spy novel, with the protagonist of the previous book; Erast Fandorin, taking a back seat to the principal character of a young idealistic and adventurous woman named Varvara Suvorova. Set against the back drop of the Russo-Turkish war of 1877-'78, Varvara has travelled to the front line to be with her fiancé Pyotr but no sooner has she arrived than she finds herself in a series of desperate situations and constantly being rescued by Erast Fandorin.

Varvara's obstinate views means she resents Fandorin's aid, even as she is obviously attracted to him, but whilst Fandorin might reciprocate her feelings, he is still hurting from the pain of losing his own fiancé (when they were bombed at their wedding).

This second novel doesn't quite live up to the first, partly because the character of Varvara Suvorova just isn't that interesting, and partly because Suvorova is often removed from the centre of events, leaving the reader with a constraint that might feel annoying. I enjoyed the story, but I was stupid enough to look up the plot on Wikipedia so I knew who the traitor was.

Ironclad

2011-07-11T00:05:00.005+02:00

Dir: Jonathon English

I was looking forward to seeing this film, as the city of Rochester is close to my heart, and I spent many happy hours examining Rochester castle when I lived next door to it. I have always wanted to build a model of a Norman castle like Rochester, perhaps not one quite as big (though as castle's go its not big), and I have quite a few diagrams and a couple of books about Rochester castle to that purpose. Consequently I am sufficiently well read on this particular building to bore your pants off.

I had no expectations of historical accuracy from the film, not least since the hero shown on the posters appeared to be a Templar Knight (because why?), and I was therefore not surprised by how many historical inaccuracies there were. What did surprise me was the scale of those inaccuracies, the biggest of which was the complete absence of the city of Rochester! The castle stood alone, by its bridge across the Medway, as if Southern England were a deserted swampy wasteland.

This made way for a few nice matte image backgrounds, and a story that utterly ignored nuance with Paul Giamatti doing his best to be King John (and doing a fair job it has to be admitted) and James Purefoy pretending to be a Templar Knight who just happens to be named after Sir William Marshal (but again; why???). Purefoy seems bored most of the time, or perhaps he was put off by the detestable presence of Brian Cox who once again uses his Midas-like touch to turn a promising film into a crock of shit.

Seen from a purely wargaming/model building perspective, the film wasn't so bad. There were a lot of skirmish situations with numerous shots of seige combat (and some amazingly rapid firing trebuchet'), but on the whole I was disapointed by the cardboard cut out characters and the absence of any decent sub plots. The quality of some of the supporting actors (such as Derek Jacobi and Charles Dance) doesn't make any difference either and although I really wanted to like this film, I just couldn't forgive King John's blue painted, shaggy Danish mercenaries who looked like they walked out of a Hollywood assembly line.

Liberty Belle crash

2011-06-16T14:10:00.001+02:00

All things must pass eventually, but its always a shame to see a beautiful, and as irreplacable aircraft like a B17, crash and burn. Thankfully no one was killed.

DEUTSCHLAND AT RAMSGATE - 1920 - British Pathe

2011-06-13T02:01:00.002+02:00

DEUTSCHLAND AT RAMSGATE - 1920 - British Pathe

This is interesting footage. 'Deutschland' was the sistership of 'Bremen', which was the submarine I borrowed for RM5.

Both subs belonged to a curious type of submarine developed by Germany as clandestine merchant vessels (you can see how fat they were in the image above). They were designed to ship high value, exotic cargo's into Germany, circumventing the Royal Navy's blockade. Their limited cargo capacity however, and the fact that they just weren't that reliable meant they were later converted into 'U-cruisers'.

Nothing to see here, move along

2011-06-12T14:15:00.005+02:00

Lazy days in Aarhus. I've not had much time to do any modelling, nor painting, of late, so not much to relate with that regard. The children take up a lot of my time and trying to manage various obligations, whilst coping with the emotional turbulence of losing my parents takes the rest. It will only be a few months until the first anniversary of my fathers death, but I'm still suffering regular bouts of grief, characterised by depression, lassitude and a general inability to concentrate on such mundane things as dates, appointments and other such obligations. Overall, I have an obscure feeling that I've lost my way and I'm wandering in fields of doubt.

Every so often I get a glimpse of who I was a year ago and I wonder how I get back to that. Perhaps the first step is in finding the way out of those fields of doubt?

Artist of the Month; Emmanuel Shiu

2011-06-05T13:38:00.004+02:00

Emmanuel Shiu is a concept artist who has worked on numerous film projects, such as 'Iron man', 'Hell Boy 2' and 'Sin City'. He stands out for me, because he has both an appreciable talent for composition and light and because he has a flair for industrial decay.

There are a great many concept artists working today,and they all use much the same tools, programmes and ideas. The internet is over flowing with concept artists who have painted men in powered armour, vampyres, muscular monstrosities and girls with guns, and its growing tedious to see the same old shit again and again, and again in a multitude of meager variation. It becomes a rare treat to find a concept artist whose best work doesn't fit into a teenagers fantasy world. (That Shiu's portfolio also contains photographic nudes is only to his benefit!)

HEAT-1X test flight videos

2011-06-05T01:38:00.003+02:00

I'm not sure whether or not the next rocket has already been designed, or whether Fridays test flight means CS will make a brand new design, but this graphic gives an idea of the scale of the next rocket as compared to a Nazi V2;

Ad Astra!

2011-06-04T02:04:00.004+02:00

Copenhagen Suborbitals launched their first full test flight of the HEAT-1X rocket yesterday and as you can see from the video below, despite a bit of wobble, she flew!

The orange bit at the top of the rocket is a capsule big enough to carry a human being (it contained a test dummy for this first flight) and the end goal of the project is to carry a man into suborbital space. Reaching suborbital space is far easier than reaching orbit, which is why the rocket does not have to be very big, but its still a monster of a project for private individuals with very little money. The test flight was planned to reach an alttitude of 16km, but early reports indicate the rocket only made it about half way. The parachutes were also a bit faulty, but thats what test flights are for I guess.

A Danish 'rocket expert' has applauded the effort and predicted a Danish rocket may carry a man into suborbital space within a decade... so no dangerous enthusiasm on his part then. I predict a manned flight within four years, but thats because I am an impatient optimist when it comes to space flight.

The Winter Queen

2011-06-04T01:50:00.004+02:00

By Boris Akunin

"Here's to luck!" cried the drunk (or perhaps, the madman), then he raised the hand holding the revolver high above his head, spun the chambers and set the muzzle to his temple.

Ah, but this was a nice read, and not quite what I'd expected at all. That is to say it was exactly what I had hoped for, but I was expecting to be disapointed in my expectations. I wasn't however, and the story was very enjoyable.

Erast Fandorin is a Collegiate Registrar (a minor Russian police man in the Tsarist era) who comes across a curious case where a young man publically commits suicide in a park for no apparent reason. Erast convinces his superior to let him look into the matter and a strange and convoluted story unfolds. Erast himself is a young, naive romantic who stumbles from one predicamant to the next, but always manages to survive by the skin of his teeth, or by the good fortune of being rescued from an unlikely quarter.

The plot was fairly obvious, and the twists weren't hard to spot before hand (some were practically sign posted) but the story telling carried me along and entertained me and consequently I have already sent away for the next three novels in the series. I understand that Akunin wrote each novel with a different style in mind, so it will be interesting to see how they differ.

The Wine Dark Sea

2011-06-04T01:31:00.007+02:00

By Patrick O'Brian

Presently it was no more than broken men, escaping below, screaming as they were hunted down and killed: and an awful silence fell, only the ships creaking together on the dying sea, and the flapping of empty sails.

Of all the series, this is my least favourite I think. Although it bucks the trend of the series by being fatter than the others, which get thinner and thinner as O'Brian aged, this book reads almost like a last gargantuan effort to wrap up a story that had grown into a monster. The first half the book is fair enough; still in the South Pacific Jack Aubrey continues along his way, chasing down a pirate and capturing a French political revolutionary, but then the story reaches South America and things get rather dull. Stephen wanders around the Andes, visiting yet more Catholic priests and assorted Irish men and eventually getting wounded as he has done so many times before.

It isn't that I dislike the character, but there is a certain uneasiness about Stephen Maturin. A sense that he is just too good, too much of an expert doctor, surgeon, naturalist, zoologist, ornithologist, code writer, linguist, swordsman, marksman and intelligence agent. That he is also uncommonly lucky in cards, has friends and family connections from the British Court, to the Baltic Sea to the Iberian peninsula and to Peru, that animals and children take to him easily, that great wealth simply falls into his lap... well its all just a bit too much at times.

The fact is, its Jack Aubrey who is the hero and Stephen Maturin is the side kick, and the books are most alive when both of them are together. O'Brian didn't seem to think this though, or maybe he didn't care or agree with it, because he often dumps Jack at sea and lets Stephen roam the land by himself. Sometimes this works, but in this particular book it drags.

Captain Fouquet Chapter 3.1 'The Sot'

2011-05-27T23:55:00.001+02:00

This game was played on 25th May. 2011. Present were Jan, Oleg, Goeg and Palle.

Rufus and Marmaduke returned to Misteline's studio with the news of the Sot having arrived in Serrenisma, but this had little direct impact as the companions debated what their next course of action should be. The fact that so many people seem to have disapeared was a primary cause of concern so it was decided to go to the market and investigate Horace Nuvel.

Stopping by the Red Fox to order some food to be delivered to Misteline's studio, Misteline, Rufus and Marmaduke made their way to Adam Fieldsack's stall at the market where domestic servants could be hired. Fieldsack remembered Misteline well, and had a vague recollection of Horace but had no idea where he'd come from or where he'd gone to. As he recalled it, Horace had arrived only moments before Misteline had come looking for a man servant. The companions began to grow suspicious and wondered if Horace was a spy. Misteline recalled Marshal Quartermoon had advocated he hire a man servant for Rufus.

Fieldsack offered the companions the services of a broad hipped maid servant named Mathilde Mantlehart, but the three men declined the lady's services and returned to the Red Fox. Along the way they noticed the dark stranger who had identified himself as the journalist Julian Keenkettle, following them at a distance. Rufus offered to chase and kill the man but Misteline decided this would be imprudent as there were many witnesses about. They entered the Red Fox instead which was almost deserted and after listening to Hilda Grimbleflax lament the appalling effect the news of the Sot was having on her business, they returned to Misteline's studio where Misteline made a sketch of Julian Keenkettle.

Seeing this sketch the Faustini brothers who were present urged Misteline to sketch them too, which Misteline duly did. Once this was completed, the Faustini's set about making dinner in the kitchen whilst one of their number was sent to fetch Giancarlo.

After dinner Rufus went to check on Luigi and found he was missing from Rufus's apartments. He searched in the Red Fox and with the prostitutes but it wasn't until he stepped on onto the baloney at the rear of the building that he heard Luigi's unmistakable laugh. At first it sounded like it was coming from the Cock-a-doodle Club but when he went to find out, Rufus realised the voice was coming from an upper window of Marmaduke's house. He decided to let matters rest and returned to Misteline's studio where the group sat waiting for night to fall.

It had been decided that some kind of assertive action was called for and the decision was taken to break into and examine the Cock-a-doodle club because it had been suspiciously empty for a few nights. As soon as it was deemed dark enough Misteline, Rufus, Marmaduke and Giancarlo made their way to the back entrance of the club. As they stood below the upper window of Marmaduke's house, Misteline and Rufus became aware of Luigi's laughing voice accompanied by Ivy Gurdlecat's "Oh you naughty boy!"

Marmaduke did not notice this however and neither Misteline or Rufus chose to draw attention to the lovers. Marmaduke even discovered his door was barred from the inside but still he remain ignorant. Misteline listened at the back door of the club and heard the unmistakable sound of furniture being moved which he concluded was some one within blocking the rear door. Misteline and Rufus then quickly redeployed to watch Garnet Street from the corner of the Red Fox, leaving Marmaduke and Giancarlo to guard the door. This move failed to take Giancarlo's nature into account however and as soon as Misteline and Rufus were gone, Giancarlo urged Marmaduke to agree to picking the door lock. Marmaduke readied his crossbow and agreed. Giancarlo picked the lock and then kicked in the door.

The door only opened a few inches before it struck something heavy blocking it. A voice within shouted "Oh, oh, they're trying to get in!" at which point Giancarlo moved around to the rear of the building and peered through the window. He was immediately shot by a crossbow bolt and fell to the ground cursing. Marmaduke moved to his side, taking care to cover the window with his own crowssbow. He saw straight away that Giancarlo was seriously wounded.

Watching from the corner of the Red Fox, Rufus saw two men exit the front door of the Cock-a-doodle club. he signalled to Misteline who was looking back into the courtyard trying to figure out what was happening to Marmaduke and Giancarlo and then as two more men emerged from the club, the first two began to run towards the Red Fox. Rufus fell back to the darkness of the Red Fox's entrance.

Marmaduke ran towards Misteline's house to fetch help from the rest of the Faustini brothers but then as several of them emerged, he turned and ran towards the Red Fox. This led to the Faustini's confusing him as Giancarlo's assailant and Allesandro and Franco chased after Marmaduke with drawn swords whilst Ronaldo knelt by Giancarlo. Misteline managed to shut the Faustini's up and told them to go back to Ronaldo. Out in the street, the first two men from the Cock-a-doodle club were peering into the darkness of the entrance whilst covering their identities with hats and cloaks. Both held drawn swords. They seemed to hesitate then drew back out of sight.

Misteline climbed up on the balconey and as he did he saw two men confrontng Ronaldo, he quickly realised these were the remaining two men from the Cock-a-doodle club and he shouted at Allesandro and Franco to assist their brother which they quickly rushed to do. The two men who had withdrawn from the entrance of the Red Fox now rushed forward and tried to catch Rufus by surprise. This failed and Rufus quickly dropped the first. The second however ran up the stairs and tried to engage Misteline, but Rufus rushed after him and for a moment the three men fought with the unknown enemy tackling Misteline with one hand, and Rufus with the other.

Marmaduke moved to the fence behind the Red Fox to cover the heaving fight around Giancarlo but in the darkness he could see very little and had no clear shot.

On the balconey, Rufus was pressed back long enough for his opponent to move to a more advantageous position. This spared Misteline. The two men were almost equals, but Rufus had the edge (and the longer blade). After several parris and thrusts, he caught the man in the shoulder and as he went down, he gave him a stunning blow to the head. Misteline, watching, noticed the first assailant get up and flee, but decided he was unlikely to be able to catch him.

At this point, and to Marmaduke's amazement, Luigi and Ivy Cutlerstub, both in night clothing, appeared from the rear entrance of the Cutlerstub residence and peered at the fighting men. Marmaduke shouted "Mother! How could you!?" and Ivy yelped and fled back indoors. Luigi payed no heed to this, but with his sword in hand, he dashed into the fray. Marmaduke may have considered shooting him, but didn't.

The fighting was over in seconds and by the time Rufus had reached them, Ronaldo, Alesandro and Sandro were dead, Giancarlo was dying and Luigi was seriously wounded in the lower abdomen. From his vantage point, Misteline noted that Anaiis Fouquet had witnessed the fight from atop the gate house.

Whilst Misteline did what he could for Luigi, Rufus told Marmaduke to grab the prisoner from the balconey, and then fetch a doctor, which Marmaduke did whilst Rufus ran off to get help from Marshal Quartermoon. Marmaduke left the prisoner with Misteline and then went to find Doctor Hamshank. Hamshank was at home and came readily enough, though he was not happy about it. He examined Giancarlo and said there was nothing he could do, then examined Luigi and said he might survive if he was lucky. He then took his leave just as a slightly drunk Robert Ladlevane arrived on the scene, on his way back home.

Marmaduke, Robert Ladlevane and Franco moved Luigi, the prisoner and the dead Faustini brothers into Misteline's house. Whilst Pietro stayed, weeping, by the dying Giancarlo. Luigi and the prisoner were taken up to the studio whilst the dead brothers were laid out on the kitchen floor. Whilst this was going on, Misteline sloped away to Garnet Street and found the door to the Cock-a-doodle Club still open.

As he ran along North Wall Street Rufus heard a horse coming up fast behind him, he whipped around drawing his rapier as he did and was just in time to parry a blow aimed at his head. He almost managed to dishorse the rider but the horseman held on fast and galloped on down the road. Rufus ran after him for a short while but it was useless. The man on the horse got away and Rufus never got a clear look at his face.

Inside the Cock-a-doodle Club, Misteline found evidence that some one had been using the club for an unknwn period of time. Furniture had been moved about and several empty wine bottles and the remains of a light meal were still standing on a table. The rear door had been barricaded by heavy furntiure. Locating the cellar, Misteline then checked below. He found an ample supply of wine in the first room, and a locked door. He tried to pick the lock with his dagger but succeeded only in breaking the tip of his dagger off in the lock. Rather than carry around a broken dagger which might identify him, should any one discover the tip of the blade in the lock, he then dropped the dagger and left it on the floor.

The upper storey of the building showed more signs of habitation. In the rear bedroom a table by the window contained yet more wine bottles and a note book. Misteline took the note book and scarpered, but as he was leaving the club he bumped into a Militia night watchman who asked him what he was doing. Misteline shrugged and muttered but the guard realised what the building was and having drawn a mistaken conclusion about Misteline (but not that mistaken) quickly departed. Misteline breathed a sigh of relief and returned home.

At the Citadel, Rufus found the gates shut so he hammered on them until a guard opened a shutter high above him and gruffly asked his business. Rufus tried to explain that there was an emergency and he needed to speak with Marshall Quartermoon, but the guards told him to be off. Not to be put out Rufus tried one of the other gates, but with a similar result. Disgusted he returned to Friars Gate.

Misteline examined the prisoner and found there was something unusual about him in that his moustache was hanging from his face. It transpired that the prisoner was the man who called himself Horace Nuvel, and almost certainly the drunkard with eel whom had been sighted in the Red Fox. Misteline realised that if Horace was working in some official capacity, then taking him prisoner and killing his companions might be seen in a poor light. He set about writing a letter to Leander Quartermoon at once;

To Marshal Leander Quartermoon

Some people had been occupying the Cock-a-doodle Club. When disturbed, one of the shot Giancarlo Faustini of Castelopea, killing him

They then attacked the other Faustini brothers, Rufus and myself. Rufus over powered one who proved to be the man who had mascaraded as Horace (the servant that I had hired for Rufus). I thought he had been working for you, in which case you should reclaim him. You may wish to take him into custody if he was not working for you. Do you have any advice? Two were killed, one escaped. They appear to have come from Serrensima.

Misteline Magnifico

Rufus returned and was informed about Horace. He examined the unconsious man and confirmed his identity, then together with Marmaduke, he examined the two dead men who wore good clothing, but had no distinguishing marks beyond a purse of coins from Serrenisma. Misteline bought some Laudanum from Doctor Hamshank and gave Horace a dose. As he did, Horace revived from his stupor long enough to peer about the room and tell every one they were under arrest in the name of the Lord High Steward. After this, there followed a discussion as to what to do with the bodies and Marmaduke was sent to fetch the wagon, which he duly did.

Misteline took the samples of black powder he had stashed in Rufus's studio and walked to the Citadel. Along the way he became aware that the man calling himself Julian Keenkettle was following him, accompanied at times by an urchin. Misteline hastened on and upon his arrival convinced the Militia guards to accept the letter he had written for Marshal Quartermoon. As a precaution he also handed in the parcel containing the samples of black powder. He then asked if Marlowe was present to which the guards told him to wait. An uncomfortable hour passed with Misteline growing ever more wary. Every so often he spied Julian Keenkettle lurking in the distance and dared not leave the proximity of the Citadel. Eventually his patience paid off, a door was opened and Misteline was pulled within...

Freja labels

2011-05-26T03:20:00.002+02:00

Turns out they were set to invisible for some unknown reason. I've reactivated them now.

Artist of the Month; Moebius

2011-05-24T22:26:00.007+02:00

Moebius, also known as Jean Giraud, or 'Gir', is a French illustrator and concept artist and the co-author of many excellent graphic novels. Most of his famous work was made in the early 1980's in collaboration with Alejandro Jodorowsky, but his influence has continued in subtle ways right up to today, not least in the visions of science fiction films like 'Star Wars' and the 'Fifth Element'.

I first encountered Moebius's work in the issues of Heavy Metal, which I collected over the years up until about 2003. I first began to buy Heavy Metal around 1988, so over time I built up quite a nice little collection of Moebius's work. At the same time I also encountered his work in various Danish public library's where his graphic novels were always represented in large numbers and especially here I read most of his most famous serials, my favourite of which being the stories which featured the Incal (Written by Jodorowsky). Apart from the simple beauty of his drawings, the quality that most springs from Moebius's art is its equilibrium. More than most artists, Moebius's style clearly shows an inner universe populated by a vast amount of thought and yet all described with the same aesthetic quality. Most always, any random Moebius image will instantly transport you to the familiar world of Moebius's mind.

Actually, I never really understood any of the deeper symbolism at work in the Jodorowsky graphic novels illustrated by Moebius, as most of the time I was admiring the quality of his line and largely ignored the stories as anything but a means to admire Moebius. I have an urge to buy them and re read them as I never really did get to read them in chronology.

Captain Fouquet Chapter 2.5 'Of Services Rendered'

2011-05-24T20:40:00.001+02:00

This game was played on 12th May. 2011. Present were; Jan, Oleg, Palle and Goeg.

Having followed Anton Fouquet and his companions to the Gin Dock, Rufus watched from a dark alley way as the crew of the Lady Trueblood busied themselves about her decks. Unsure what they were about he decided to attempt to cripple the ship by cutting her steering ropes. An examination of the river disuaded him from this course of action however as it would have meant swimming to her rudder and climbing up it, and Rufus was an indifferent swimmer with little confidence of his abilities in the fast moving tide. He decided instead to find some pitch and attempt to set fire to the ships stern hoping this would serve his purpose.

Seeking along the docks he came to a ship yard where the vast hull of a carrack loomed behind several buildings. A fence surrounded the property and as he approached, a guard dog began barking and challenging him. No one seemed to take any notice of the dog however so after so pause for consideration, Rufus stabbed the hound to death with his rapier and stole into the ship yard. Finding pitch was easy enough as the scent lead him straight to one of the smaller buildings in the yard. Gaining entrance to the building was not so easy however and the door proved too solid to simply kick open, so Rufus broke and climbed through a small, tight window.

Inside the building was dark and with only the lightning outside to provide illumination, Rufus was unable to find a convenient vessel to transport some of the pitch which was stored in several large barrels. Resorting to a pair of wooden buckets, he found it difficult to exit the building whilst transporting two buckets of turgid pitch. Eventually, after having dropped the first batch, he succeeded with a second, but only by breaking yet aother window after the first had became smeared with congealed pitch. With slightly soiled clothes, he then made his way back to the Gin Dock only to discover the Lady Trueblood was being warped out into the centre river (in order to avoid the ships moored ahead of her), was no longer attached to the dock and the City Pilot was coming aboard her.

Rufus decided to carry on with his attempt by setting fire to his buckets and lowering them into the river from the nearby Bridge of St Agnes. The weather was still foul and setting light to the pitch was something of a problem, but Rufus solved this by ducking into the nearby Old Sea Man's home with a quickly improvised torch and lighting it from their fire place. Having accomplished this, he gently lowered both buckets into the river, allowing the current to carry them towards the carrack's stern. The first was swamped by the water and extinguished but the second reached the ship. Unfortunately, it missed the stern and floated along the ship's counter, much to the surprise of her crew. Cold, wet and some what disapointed Rufus then returned to Misteline's apartment.

Whilst Rufus was galivanting around the docks, Misteline, Maramduke and the Faustini brothers had regrouped in Misteline's apartment and were busy. The brothers were removing Father Caltrop's dagger from Pietro's shoulder whilst Misteline examined the samples he had taken from Anton Fouquet's workshop. Dividing these in to two seperate groups, he then hid them before sitting down to copy a note book which Giancarlo had stolen from Fouquet's workshop.

Upon Rufus's return, it was decided that he would also break into Anton Fouquet's workshop with help from Giancarlo, and subsequently the two men returned to the workshop where after some bickering Giancarlo stole several more things, including a golden paper weight and a strange brass and glass contraption. After this brief burglary, Giancarlo returned to Misteline's apartment and Rufus returned to his own place to change his clothes and burn those which were filthy and pitch marked.

16th Marts. 1625

Every one awoke with the rising sun, and the Faustini's immediately set about the pantry. Misteline and Rufus went to Rufus's studio to hide half of the samples taken from Anton Fouquet's workshop and to investigate Father Caltrop's room where they found nothing had changed, and so they then returned to Misteline's apartment where they ate breakfast. As he ate, Misteline wrote a letter to Marshal Quartermoon to tell him about the nights events and warn him about the Lady Trueblood. This letter was then taken to the Citadel by Marmaduke, who eventually handed it to a secretary. In the meantime, Misteline noted the elaborate artefact of brass and glass that Giancarlo had stolen from Anton Fouquet's workshop, but apart from noting its general resemblence to a half made oil lamp he was unable to identify it.

Rufus went to see Belinda, leaving Misteline under the protection of the Faustini brothers, and found her in the company of her brother Pedro, and in some distress for having heard of the death of Diego Monte-Banquo. Rufus, whilst comforting Belinda, noted Pedro's wooden expression and concluded that the Faustini brothers had probably done away with his competitor, possibly in conjunction with his Godfather. Luigi then arrived bearing the flowers Rufus had charged him to find the day before. Despite these distractions, Rufus managed to get Belinda alone and promised her eternal friendship. Belinda however had other emotions in mind and soon they were both professing their undying love to each other.

Misteline and Giancarlo, breaking the law!

Back at Misteline's, the wily old artist became aware that Giancarlo was not present. He searched around the house for him and found him picking at the lock to Doctor Giffshank's apartment. Never one to pass up an opportunity, Misteline joined the young Castelopean and together they entered the uppermost apartment of Mrs Crimpstock's house. Within, the two men found a wealth of ancient paintings, sculptures and other objects d'art, which were so old and rare that despite his experience, Misteline was unable to accurately identify. Very quickly Misteline found a library containing something like two hundred books and manuscripts, and quite a few loose sheets of paper that indicated Doctor Giffshank was prone to writing verse.

The next room proved to be Giffshank's bedroom and here Misteline discovered an erotic print hanging on the back of the door and a dusty box under the bed. The print proved to be of a paederastic nature and the box, much to Giancarlo's disgust, contained three exotic phalluses, one of bronze, one of wood and a third of marble. The box was replaced and the two men then entered the next room which was Edna Shufflewick's bedroom. Here they found clothes, a lot of jewellry and another box under a bed. This box was bigger and locked with two seperate locks. Giancarlo reckoned he could open it, but it would take time so it was decided to search the next and last room first.

The last room proved to be locked and without an apparent lock but a thorough examination soon showed the lock to be concealed in the wall rather than in the door and Giancarlo soon had the door open. The last room proved to be a study, dominated by a desk upon which sat a remarkable model which Misteline immediately examined but was unable to fully understand. Scattered around the room and upon the desk were a great many papers illustrated by mathematical diagrams and equations and though he struggled to make sense of them, Misteline recognised them as pertaining to geometry, curves and the trajectories of heavenly bodies. It seemed to Misteline that Doctor Giffshank was working on some kind of armoured cupola containing a weapon. The model on the table appeared to be a tubular object, mounted on a slide, underneath a metal dome shaped shield. Misteline helped himself to Giffshank's notes.

Whilst Misteline was engaged in the study, Giancarlo worked on the strong box and such was his skill that despite the expensive locks had it open within thirty minutes. Inside was a considerable sum of money, at least twenty thousand crowns, and the two men immediately divided it between themselves. Misteline took his share down to his bedroom and hid it there for the time being, whilst Giancarlo tried to sneak his share past his brothers. He succeeded, but only until he reached the hotel where his swag was discovered by Pedro.

Marmaduke, fetched a wagon and a horse to move things to the 'Eel and Spindle', and brought them into the courtyard but before anything could be loaded Marlowe arrived and explained to Misteline that Marshal Quartermoon had received his letter and he would do what he could to find out where the Lady Trueblood was heading for. Rufus returned as Marlowe left and the three companions debated what to do next. Misteline was certain the house was being watched and that the presence of the Faustini brothers was all that was keeping them safe. Rufus was less cautious and favoured some form of direct action rather than idle chatter.

Misteline hid the money and jewelry he had stolen from Edna Shufflewick in a bronze statuette (a study for his great equine statue) and this was placed on the wagon whilst Rufus and Marmaduke moved various things back and forth from Misteline's studio to Marmaduke's workshop in order to obfuscate any observors as to what they were about. Having done this, they then mounted the wagon and set off for the 'Eel and Spindle' with Rufus examining houses along the way, making a great deal of looking for a new home for his happy future with Belinda.

Misteline went to find Nicolet to ask her advice with regards to giving Father Caltrop his money back, but Nicolet had little to say on the matter so Misteline returned to his home, which was still occupied by five Faustinis, and set about some small experiments with the black powder samples taken from Captain Fouquet's workshop. Sure enough, they proved to be either inflammatory or downright explosive.

As they returned a few hours later, Rufus still loudly commenting upon suitable buildings in the Garden District, Maramduke noticed people were rushing by with concerned faces. Something appeared to have happened to affect the public mood, and sure enough, at the next crossroads, they encountered a town cryer who was shouting the news that the dreaded plague known as the Sot had arrived in Serrensima.

Thus ends the second Chapter of Captain Fouquet

Край

2011-05-23T01:38:00.008+02:00

Dir: Alexei Uchitel.

Am currently exploring some gems of Russian cinema at the moment, and with great relish, for today I watched 'The Edge' which was almost as good as 'Kukushka', and 'Island' which was not so good.

In 'The Edge', Ignat (see image above) is a former steam-locomotive engine-driver who having returned from fighting the Germans during the war, finds himself at the edge of civilisation in a labour camp, some where in Siberia. Regarded as a war hero by the people in the camp, he soon begins to make enemies, not least because he is a belligerent man prone to punching people. The local beauty Sofia takes a shine to him, but Ignat is restless and sets out to retrieve a locomotive which has been stranded on the far side of a broken bridge. When he arrives at the abandoned loco, Ignat finds a run away German girl, named Elsa, living in it. Having already caused tensions in the camp with his attitude and relationship to Sofia, Ignat really puts the cat amongst the pigeons when he returns with the German girl.

Not as funny as 'Kukushka', 'The Edge' still has a typically Russian feel to it, with plenty of humour, violence, sexual tension, emotion and poignancy. Like so many other Russian films (for example both 'Kukushka' and 'Island'), 'The Edge' deals with post war motifs, focusing on communication difficulties, the hardships of life and general decay of infrastructure during the Soviet era, but most of all, with interpersonal relationships between flawed or broken people.

Kukushka

2011-05-22T14:27:00.008+02:00

Dir: Alexander Rogozhkin

Its been a while since I saw a film I liked as much as 'Kukushka', and I think this is probably because, of late I have not gone looking for anything but shallow entertainment. 'Kukushka' is the story of three people who meet in the last days of Finland's war against the Soviet Union in 1944. The first is Veikko, a Finnish sniper who has been left chained to a rock by his German allies and has no wish to fight any more. The Second is Ivan, a Rusian soldier who has been informed on by his political officer and is being taken for trial when he is blown up by friendly fire and the third is Anni, young Lapp woman (see image above) who lives by herself after her husband was 'taken by the soldiers' four years previously.

Events conspire and these three people find themselves living on Anni's tiny farm in the middle of no where, but with the singular disadvantage that none of them speak the others language and so they continually speak past each other as they each talk about their own troubled lives. It makes for some entertaining dialogue, not least since they understand each other's body language quite well and as Anni spends time with the two men, it becomes ever more obvious that she is hungry for a man.

I understand Rogozhkin used amateur actors to make this film, and perhaps thats one of its advantages as I have never seen any of the actors before and they each performed with excellence. Anni, played by Anni-Kristiina Juuso was particularly good and in watching this film I discovered that not only are Lapp girls cute, but Saami is the sexiest language on Earth!

This is easily my favourite film so far this year!

Funky Pants

2011-05-21T15:00:00.003+02:00

Today's musical inspiration; the sun is out, the breeze is cool, the end of the world hasn't happened yet... All I need now is a good cup of coffee!

Captain Fouquet Chapter 2.4 'Of Services Rendered'

2011-05-21T14:55:00.002+02:00

I'm a bit behind in posting my write ups, but with luck I'll get them finished today.

This game was played on 20th April. 2011. Present were; Jan, Oleg, Palle and Goeg.

Misteline listened to the voices from below. The Militia questioned Mrs Crimpstock for a while, then suddenly departed taking the old lady with them and Misteline found himself alone in the house. His immediate reaction was to hurry upstairs to Doctor Giffshank's apartments but his search for clues was hampered by a locked door and his clumsy attempts at picking the lock, failed. Misteline returned to Rufus's studio, noting along the way that the weather was turning foul and it had begun to rain.

In the mean time, Marmaduke had eaten some lunch, then packed up Father Caltrop's weapons, and returned them to the old priest's room. Finding the place empty, he took the chance to look around a bit and whilst examining the assumed angle of trajectory for the crossbow bolt which Misteline had previously discovered in the back of the door, he heard Odette Turnbull training her voice by singing scales from the adjoining building.

Misteline found that Rufus was no longer at home but shortly after he was met by Marmaduke and Luigi and learned that Rufus had returned to Belinda. The two companions left Luigi and returned to Father Caltrop's room intent on working out where the poisoned crossbow bolt had come from. This proved fruitless until they examined the rest of the building and discovered that there was a widening gap between the Red Fox property and the house of Bertram Turnbull, and although this gap could not be entered from the ground floor, it grew wider towards the top and from the first floor balconey walkway at the rear of of the Red Fox it was wide enough for a person to climb up and be almost invisible from the street. Misteline exmained the gap and found that there were even iron spikes driven into the wall to facilitate access to Father caltrop's window.

Satisfied that they had found a way by which a crossbow could be fired into Father Caltrop's room, at the angle of the bolt in the door, Misteline and Marmaduke returned their attention to the question of those ships associated with the House of Treadstone.They decided to return to the Old Seaman's Home and quickly made their way down to the docks where they found two of the same old men as previous, with the yellow bird, sitting outside, ignoring the rain. Misteline was wary of asking to many obvious statements so he proposed several fictious ships names before asking if the men had ever heard of a ship named Scarlet Jane to which they refered him to an old sailor named Bartholomew who replied yes, the Scarlet Jane he recalled well as having been captained by a man named Morrowhock, and which had sunk in the Starshine Sea with all hands, either in the year 1621 or 1622.

Misteline then asked about Buttercup which all the sailors knew perfectly well as it was still sitting on Long Bottom Bank on which it had grounded during the high Spring tide of 1621 and where it was still visible to any vessel passing through the Weyr estuary, as was the small settlement which had taken root on the ship. Misteline then asked about Molly Carbuncle and to his surprise, all the old sea men chuckled and pointed to the neighbouring dock where a large carrack named Lady Trueblood was moored not more than a hundred yards away. Molly Carbuncle had been sold it transpired and renamed and she was now a gin merchant owned by the House of Goatroll. Bartholomew agreed to inquire who was the captain of the ship, but discovered that the current captain had recently been dismissed a new captain was expected shortly, though the sailors on board had no idea who the new man would be.

It was still raining, but this didn't deter Misteline from whipping out his sketch book and making a few studies of the docks. (The image above corresponds to the size and general lay out of Lady Trueblood)

Misteline and Marmaduke returned to the Red Fox as the twilight was darkening into night. Nothing of any interest had happened in their absence and Rufus was still away so the two companions sent down to Hilda Grimbleflax for some food and set to filling their bellies and wagging their tongues. Misteline decided to remove the crossbow bolt from Father Caltrop's room, and as the weather began to turn ugly, he returned cautiously. No one was about and he managed to take the poisoned dart. Outside, thunder began to runble. Misteline decided to go home, but stopped by the scullery first to inform Nicolet, assuming that she would convey this information to Father Caltrop. Nicolet feigned ignorance at first but eventually acknowledged the hint.

At home, Misteline found the house dark, cold and empty. He rigged the back door to make a noise if any one should attempt to open it, then went upstairs and set about lighting a fire in his studio. Marmaduke hung around for a while but then returned home. Misteline set about working for a while, and eventually he was disturbed by Meg Plum who came by to see if he needed anything and to hear if there was any news of 'poor Mrs Crimpstock'. There wasn't, but this didn't prevent Misteline and Meg gossiping for almost an hour whilst outside the storm increased in volume.

Meg Plum eventually left but she had hardly done so before some one was pulling the front door bell chain and Misteline went to answer the door as cautiously as possible. Upon opening up, he found Marlowe and a Militia Gaurd standing on his door step and in the street behind them, a fine carriage drawn by four liveried black horses. Within he found Marshal Quartermoon and the Royal Principal Secretary Sir Nigel Toadmoat.

Quartermoon and Toadmoat warn Misteline that the Militia have been ordered to stay away from Captain Fouquet, and Quartermoon lets slip that the Lord President of the Privy Council; Sir Reginald Foxwort issued this order to Sir Toadmoat who nodded his head sadly as the Marshal explained the situation to Misteline. Things were not well at court with the new King desperately beset on all side by ambitious nobles vying for influence and power. Misteline and his friends could no longer count on any open support from the Militia, though of course, they were all secretly rooting for the old artist and would offer any clandestine help they could.

Quartermoon also passed on a few details he had managed to glean from the Treadstone papers, foremost of which was the presence of a guardian to watch over Treadstone; Selwyn ’The Shank’ Wortfern. Described in the documents as a loyal, formidable agent and deadly assassin, well versed in mysterious martial arts from foreign lands. Misteline presumed this must be Father Caltrop whom he had already guessed might occupy such a role.

Sir Toadmoat then warned Misteline that the Lord High Steward had also been taking an interest in the affairs of Tradstone, which meant the Segrati were almost certainly now involved. Misteline was unfamiliar with the Segrati so Toadmoat briefly explained their history. Brought into being by the old kings, the Segrati were a secret organisation devoted to preserving the Royal family. One of Phelonius Grambeline's first acts as King was to re-establish the Segrati and both Quartermoon and Toadmoat knew of its reincarnation. They warned Misteline that one of the most dangerous agents in Takshendal, a man of fearsome reputation, said to be capable of near impossible feats, and very dangerous, known only as 'The Rat', had been employed by the Lord High Steward.

Misteline expressed his hope that Rufus would be a competent body guard, to which Marshal Quartermoon then explained that Diego Monte Banquo, Rufus's competitor for the hand and heart of Belinda Faustini, had been found dead in a ditch outside the city. Preliminary reports indicated that Diego had been stabbed a great many times.

Misteline bid the two gentlemen good night then went to find Marmaduke and Rufus and after having digested the latest news, the three companions decided to recruit the Faustini brothers as an extra precaution. Misteline was still expecting a rendezvous with Father Caltrop and was not easy in his mind with regards to security. The Faustinin brothers all agreed to the caper, but left Pedro to watch over Belinda.

As the night progressed and the storm clouds drew ever tighter, the darkness increased and lightning and thunder began to pass directly over the city. Misteline and his band of men took up positions in Misteline's apartment and kept a watch on all sides. Time passed slowly and as midnight approached, a wagon was seen entering the courtyard. Three figures emerged from the gatehouse's southern tower and in the lightning, Misteline was able to identify Captain Fouquet and Gregory Marshkindle. The third man remained unidentified. The three men proceeded to load the wagon with small barrels whilst the driver remained on his seat, hunched in his oil skins against the rain. Once twenty one small barrels had been loaded, Fouquet and the stranger mounted the wagon and departed whilst Marshkindle returned to his hut.

Rufus had taken the precaution of waiting in the North Wall Street and as the wagon passed him by he surreptitiously followed it all the way down to the Gin Dock where its load was rolled aboard the carrack Lady Trueblood by her crew. Rufus watched from a dark alley as Captain Fouquet and his unknown companion conversed with several other men before all turned and walked up the ships gang plank.

In Misteline's apartment, it was noted that no one had locked the door to the southern tower. Misteline, Giancarlo and Pietro Faustini quickly and quietly made their way across the courtyard and entered the tower. Within, they found the place much as Misteline had seen it before, with a store room on the first floor and a workshop above it. When they reached the locked trap door which had thwarted Misteline in his previous visit, Giancarlo picked the lock with ease and the three men entered a second, more extensive workshop. Here they found a great many glass bottles, brass instruments, books, diagrams and samples of black powder standing about the room in various containers. There were several large leather ships buckets filled with varying amounts of black powder. Misteline told the Faustini's to leave everything untouched, but quickly took several samples of black powder. The three man then left the tower, re-locking the trapdoor behind them.

In the courtyard they came face to face with Father Caltrop who was watching and waiting for them by the old wagon. Misteline invited him back to his apartment, but Caltrop declined, telling Misteline to return the money to his room by the next day. He then paused for a moment before leaving in a hurry, heading towards the Red Fox and the three men became aware of a dark armoured figure standing behind them in the gate way of the gate house. The dark figure stepped back into the darkness of the North Wall Street and disapeared but before Misteline and the Faustini brothers could react, they became aware of a commotion by the Red Fox. Two men were desperately fighting, knives flashing in the dark. Neither seemed to have an advantage and abruptly they broke apart. One fled via the Red Fox gate and the other, who seemed to be FatherCaltrop, turned to face Misteline and the Faustinin brothers. Suddenly throwing his knife into Pietro's shoulder, he turned and bounded up the wall to clamber onto the balconey of the Red Fox and slipped away into the shadows.

Giancarlo rushed to his brothers aid, but before Misteline could react he became aware that the dark armoured figure from the gate house had returned and was silently approaching them. The man identified himself as Julian Keenkettle, a journalist working for The Volunteer and began to pose awkward questions pertaining to the amount of mysterious deaths that had taken place around Misteline. Misteline noted the man was approaching him holding a lead tablet in one hand a curious steel stylus in the other. He began to back away from the man in order to keep him out of range. Keenkettle followed him with an increasingly menacing air, but just as this was becoming absurd, Marmaduke and the remaining Faustini brothers descended from Misteline's apartment and the journalist ceased his aggressive behaviour. Having dropped a sly comment regarding Marmaduke's mother, he then left and Misteline, Marmaduke and the Faustini brothers all returned to Misteline's studio.

Beauty

2011-05-20T14:16:00.000+02:00

Dr Satoshi Kanazawa is an evolutionary psychologist at the London School of Economics who has recently courted controversy by publishing findings based on a survey of white, Asian, black and native American men and women who were asked to rate each other’s attractiveness based on photographs. Black women scored lowest and Asian women scored highest. Kanazawa already has a dubious reputation and as you can probably imagine his findings have been poorly received.

I was trained to see the human body as a shape surrounded by negative space. In drawing the body one can see it as nothing but an abstract form, without any context what so ever. In this way, any human body can have a beauty that is described by form or posture or the interplay with light that is the basis for all visual communication.

I was also taught the history of art and this illustrates clearly just how many ideas of beauty human beings have developed (thousands). The ideal body form expressed as beauty seems to have started in Greece, but the Greeks also developed realism in sculpture and some of the most beautiful Greek statues are of old, bent people suffering the hardships of life. In order to appreciate this kind of beauty though, I suspect one needs a specific perspective that comes most often with age; empathy. Teenagers it is said have difficulty with empathy, and as often as not cannot recognize beauty in old, or disfigured people.

The emphasis on youth in modern western culture seems to mean that a lot of adults also tend toward a similar lack of empathy, and any one showing the signs of age or having a less than perfect body form are considered less beautiful. When I was young, like so many people in the western world do, I thought fat people were ugly. As I grew older however I started to see them as beautiful. When I studied the history of art I learned that Europeans in the past, much as Africans do today often regarded fat people as beautiful. Eventually there came a day when I found I no longer shared the common perception of beauty and the difference had been brought about by the context of my own life and experiences.

I can't see how a single body form, whether it is described by its shape, or ethnic identity or gender can be classified as more beautiful than any other. Certainly there can be a commonly held agreement that a certain person is beautiful, but to then say that all people who share a similiar identity are beautiful seems to me to be utterly missing the point of what beauty is. Beauty isn't defined by the law of averages, its defined by perception.

Kanazawa's experiment seems to aiming for a conclusion that misses this entirely. He sees a trend as a shared perspective which I don't think it is. Two different people can look at a photograph of a person and agree the person is beautiful, but their reasons for agreement can be wholly different and I think it is the reasoning which is important, not the agreement. By Kanazawa's experiment you could also find that one colour is more beautiful than others, beacuse more people voted for it.

The Beast of Kandahar

2011-05-19T17:43:00.006+02:00

Aviation fans have been talking about the Beast of Kandahar (officially known as the RQ-170 Sentinel) for a year or so now, and I suppose I should mention it as a new example of the flying wing. I'm not all that interested in the flying machines which are commonly refered to as 'drones', as they utterly lack the 'romance' of manned aircraft and 'The Beast' is no different in that regard. It was photogrpahed in Afghanistan a year back and there was a great deal of speculation as to what a stealth drone would be doing there as the Taliban have no radars nor effective air defences; they are said to usually run away when ever an Apache shows up (a wise decision if you ask me). The mission against Bin Laden's hide out in Abbotobad provides a probable answer as to the reason why the RQ-170 Sentinel was in Afghanistan.

As flying wings go, the RQ-170 is pretty dull to look at. With its fat body and chopped stealth wings, it doesn't offer much in the way of visual stimulation. Its probably lethal as anything ever built, but I can't find it exciting. Modern military hardware has lost the lustre of romantic adventure it once had, and if you go back a few centuries and look at the decorative glory of ships, cavalry, artillery and all the uniforms, you can see the steady progression towards lethal simplicity that has brought us to the most boring ships, uniforms and aircraft you can possibly imagine.

Once soldiers and warriors proudly decorated themselves and their cannon and ships, and in course this led to romantic notions of war as adventurous. In turn this led to stories of heroism, bravery, and of 'daring do'. Such notions have dried up in modern literature, as have notions of glory and honour. I don't know if this is a good thing or not but I doubt it will mean an end to the horrors of war and I suspect the reason why so many combat troops from western militaries suffer post traumatic stress disorders is because the psychological support offered by the old ways have been replaced with the drab industrialized approach to waging war.

The most frightening thing about the Beast of Kandahar is that its inhumanity removes any glory or honour or redeeming cause which one might otherwise find in war. It is simply an effective machine for killing people.

The Thirteen Gun Salute

2011-05-19T15:08:00.005+02:00

By Patrick O'Brian

In the first place it needs a proper yard, a dock, a slip; then, to take the example of a seventy-four, the hull alone needs the seasoned timber - the seasoned timber, mind - of some two thousand trees of about two tons apiece, with forty-seven ship-wrights working a twelvemonth. Even a frigate like ours calls for twenty-seven skilled hands to build her in a year.

Reinstated to the Navy List with his previous seniority, Jack Aubrey is sent on a mission to South America with Stephen Maturin but events conspire to over take their plans and they must change to HMS Diane instead and head for the far east and Malaysia where a treaty must be negotiated with the Sultan of Pulo Prabang (which I suspect is a fictional place). Naturally the French have a competing mission and who should be accompanying it but the traitors Wray and Ledward!

The story moves with the same implacable attention to detail as the rest of the series and enough happens over the course of the book to maintain interest. O'Brian enjoys Malaysia enough to convey a nice sense of mystery about the place, though I wouldn't vouch for his accuracy. Stephen takes the foreground as he conspires against the French and explores Pulo Prabang, whilst Jack is engaged in off stage naval duties.

The Nutmeg of Consolation

By Patrick O'Brian

Six balls hit the hull, masts or yards; one carried away half the larboard quarter-gallery; and the sixteenth came the length of the ship at chest height, killing two men on the forecastle and three on the quarterdeck: Miller, just next to Jack Aubrey, a hand at the wheel, and the master.

There is a dreamy quality to this stage in the long Aubrey Maturin series. O'Brian has long since left history behind and moves through an alternate reality where time has been so suspended that when a reference is finally made to a Napoleonic victory, it doesn't seem to belong in the narrative at all. He might as well have made a reference to the lunar landings.

The story however is every bit as enjoyable as the previous book, and carries on where that one left off, with Jack, Stephen and their companions stranded on an island. Things pick up quite fast when a desperate band of pirates arrives and soon the story is moving along at a nice pace. Unfortunately this nice pace eventually brings the novel to New South Wales which is as miserable a setting for a novel as it is possible to find.

Clarissa Oakes

By Patrick O'Brian

He had rarely been so tired, had rarely gone so very far down; yet he rose up clear and fresh, no muddiness, no staring about; he knew, as a sailor knows, that it was the end of the middle watch, and the tide was on the turn; he knew that there was some one in the room, and as he sat up a strong arm pressed him back , a warm, scented arm. He was not altogether surprised - perhaps his half-waking mind had caught the scent - nor at all displeased: his heart began to beat violently and he made room.

Finally leaving behind the dreariness of penal Australia, Jack and Stephen set off to assist a British dependency in the Pacific which is at threat from yet another French mission, but along the way, the ships mood begins to darken and Jack, still some what distracted by illness and a sombre mood is surprised to learn that one of his crew has smuggled a woman aboard. Soon they are married and the ship continues on its mission but the long journey soon demonstrates why it was once considered unlucky to have a woman aboard a ship (which it doesn't take a genius to figure out why).

The story ends with an up beat conclusion when Jack and his men liberate the island of Moahu, and an object lesson as to the awful power of case shot against a densly packed foe.

Blogger issues

2011-05-17T03:13:00.003+02:00

Not sure whats been going on but in the last week or so blogger has been acting a bit weird. Normal blogging will now continue after I bang my head to this track...

The Roads of Texel

2011-05-08T18:46:00.009+02:00

Yesterday evening I came across a most amazing site whilst searching online for images or diagrams pertaining to Dutch galleons, specifically the Batavia. What I found instead was this; The 'Roads of Texel' is a 1/87 scale, four by eighteen metre diorama which can be found in at a maritime museum in the village of Jutters Oudenschild on Texel. The diarama shows a range of historical Dutch vessels from the golden era of Dutch maritime history (and also includes a visiting Danish frigate which I thought was a nice touch). As models go, this is the most impressive naval diarama I've ever come across and to think I'm wondering how to build just one model galleon! Unfortunately, I don't see any vlieboots or Dutch galleys amongst the models, but thats a minor detail. Its still fantastic and if we ever make our trip to Bataviawerf, it might be well worth stopping by to gaze upon this master piece!

Avro Lancaster PA474

2011-05-06T14:01:00.012+02:00

Having read on the DR news site that Lancaster PA474 of the RAF's Battle of Britain Memorial Flight was staying the night at Billund airport, Oleg and I decided to go and see it. It had flown over cemetaries the day before to mark Denmark's liberation day, and to salute fallen Allied aircrews and today, according to DR, the aircraft would be open to public viewing between 0900 and 1100.

We left Aarhus at 0900 and got to Billund at around 1020, but there was nothing sign posted, the airport info desk was a mere public computer terminal and the tourist information booth had a herd of zombies standing in front of it. We jumped back into Oleg's car and trolled about for a bit, quizzing a grizzled biker who Oleg identified as a plane spotter along the way. Eventually we found the little hillock where the plane spotters were camped and soon after spied the Lancaster on the far side of the airport. This was a bit of a drag as our time was running out and it meant we couldn't be sure of getting there on time if we drove around. We opted to stay on the hillock and watch from afar with our telephoto lenses. This it turned out wasn't such a bad idea, though we ended up staring across the airport for over an hour, as it meant we were in the optimal position when the aircraft did a fly over of the airport terminal. On the whole it was a very enjoyable little outing, and a most gratifying sight to see such a beautiful aircraft performing a low fly so close by.

Liberation Day

2011-05-05T16:22:00.002+02:00

Most of Denmark was liberated from German rule on this day in 1945 by British forces commanded by Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery (the island of Bornholm was liberated by Soviet forces, who remained there for more than a year). To commemorate the day today, a British Lancaster Bomber (presumably B I PA474 of the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight as shown below) has over flown cemetaries in Denmark which contain British and Commonwealth pilots who lost their lives fighting Nazi Germany.

Ironclad

2011-05-05T12:32:00.003+02:00

To watch more, visit rightster.com

Heres the international 'Ironclad' trailer and here is the Red Band version. 'Ironclad' is about the seige of my favourite Norman castle; Rochester, in whose shadow I lived for two years and whose architecture and history I made extensive studies of. I can already see liberty has been taken with the seige, but I'm hoping the end product will be every bit as good as the castle itself is!