Still standing - The Lagrange Point Vol. I, Iss. 7

Welcome to the seventh issue of The Lagrange Point! If you aren't familiar with this budding e-newsletter, you can find out more in this post here.

In This Issue

Distant Early Warnings

• Scott Pilgrim turns 20! Feel old yet?

Crafter's Corner

• Inquisitor 54mm - the gangsters

Rantables

• Are we reaching peak anti-social behaviour?

And Lastly, A Word

• Deadpool & Wolverine - franchises never die

Some nifty made-in-Canada geek content for you, including games, TV and comics...

The Mysterious Package Company (MPC), creators of escape-room-in-a-box style games, have a new Kickstarter up for their latest endeavour, Dead Man's Tale. The MPC is based near Toronto and is one of the many business endeavours of Jason Kapalka, formerly of Popcap Games (creators of Bejeweled). They've put out a number of these "immersive experience" games over the years, and this Kickstarter was funded FAST.

Still shooting for its goal on Kickstarter is Seed of Pandora. The endeavour of Jamie Mueller, a solo designer based in Victoria, Seed of Pandora is a retro-style RPG in the vein of Final Fantasy or Suikoden. I applaud that Mueller isn't taking the easy route of AI Art and is instead setting a Kickstarter stretch goal to pay freelance artists to create additional artwork for the game. I wish them great success!

Turning to the world of film and TV, Montreal-based studio Art et Essai's Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person is now available to stream on Crave. Having completed a very successful Festival run at events like TIFF and Venice, the Quebecois vampire dramedy has snuck quietly on to a service where we Canadians can finally enjoy it at home. It pleased critics and audiences alike on Rotten Tomatoes (a rare feat these days), so check it out!

Lastly, in case you missed it, this year marks the 20th anniversary of Bryan Lee O'Malley's iconic comic series, Scott Pilgrim. Oni Press is releasing special box set to celebrate, which should hit store shelves August 27. O'Malley will also be touring the States and Canada to commemorate the occasion with special signing events. The Scott Pilgrim Wiki has the full tour dates and locations, including cities like Halifax, Vancouver and, of course, Toronto.

My latest Inquisitor warband represents a Hive Gang. I'll be honest that most of these paint jobs aren't my best, but I'm sharing them for the sake of completion of showcasing my collection.

First up is a non-converted Krieger "Krash" Thrax. I will say I'm happy with how grimy he looks, which was a deliberate choice using liberal amounts of Nuln Oil.

Next up is a pretty simple conversion of the Hive Ganger Talon kit, swapping his lasgun for a pump-action shotgun and slightly different arms. His Dennis Rodman hair could maybe be a tad more gaudy, but I actually like the look of him overall.

The most converted model in the group is my mutant, which uses parts from the Chaos Henchman, Imperial Citizen, Sergeant Stone and Chain Weapons kits. His colour scheme is pretty earthy, and I think I'm actually happiest with him.

Lastly, the leader of the group, the Crime Lord. No conversion work on him at all, but I'm fond of the figure's basic look anyway. He has a lot of neat details, including the lit cigar and a set of rings on his left hand.

Before I dive into today's topic of rant, I feel I should make a few disclaimers:

1) I am not seeking a pity party. The personal anecdote is the anchor for a larger observation.
2) No, I will not reveal the genders of the people involved, nor my own sexuality. They are immaterial.
3) I promise this will also not be a weird incel heel turn.

Okay, we good? Intrigued? Frightened? Other emotions? Feel what you need to feel, and let's talk about dating.

For the first time in my roughly 25-year dating history, I got stood up. And when I say stood up, I mean left in the bar, no message, no sign, no nothing, after having set up and confirmed a location and a place to meet with semi-romantic intention.

I was the Edna Krabapple being catfished by Bart Simpson, desperately trying not to look pathetic as I nursed a cocktail so slowly I could have billed it for health care expenses across several hours.

And then it happened again, mere days later. Different person. Different place. Same outcome: not a notification in sight, online or offline.

I've seen increasing chatter among other single friends (a dying breed; solidarity my child-and-spouse-free brethren) that this has happened to them recently, too. Putting aside my friends' obvious awesomeness and pure hottie energy, I am baffled that it is socially acceptable to leave another human being in such a bewildered, self-doubting, emotionally upsetting state, and to do it so casually.

Again, let me emphasize that this is not me seeking condolences or affirmations as to my character. I'm self-actualized and comfortable enough with myself to feel at ease with my single life, and to be re-designated as a non-romantic prospect in another person's priorities. Where I think I'm gobsmacked is how this would, to my mind, reflect an increasingly deep pit of casual human cruelty with regards to how we treat each other.

Oh, I'm not saying this is on par with actual human violence or anything. Don't go putting notions in my mouth. But I am concerned that we're approaching the logical endpoint of multiple generations brought up on an era of instant gratification and, crucially, instant rejection, where the whole world is one giant screen, waiting to be swiped right or left.

I'm certainly not alone in thinking like this. And there's definitely studies to be done, long-term, on the psychological and social toll of a global pandemic which cancelled graduation celebrations, pushed kids out of classrooms, and tore the heart out of our social gatherings and events. But I think where this alarmed me is in the particular dynamic of dating: the place where we are, in social terms, at our most vulnerable.

Frankly, though, I'm no saint. I've ghosted a couple of people, and been ghosted in return. I've rejected accounts for petty, insignificant reasons. Is it so surprising that in that environment, I would receive that energy in the face-to-not-face world, too?

So at the minimum, I will see to my own house, and take this as a reminder: that there are other people on the end of those profile pictures and pithy intros, who are just trying their best to find connection in a messed-up, anti-social world, and the least I can do, as Roy Orbison once pleaded, is to handle them with care.

I find it difficult to pinpoint the exact moment at which I knew Deadpool & Wolverine was pandering to me. There's just so many moments to choose from.

Maybe it was when Chris Evans revealed himself not as Captain America, but as The Human Torch, with a raucous "flame on!" Maybe it was the absurd cameo of Tyler Mane as Sabretooth, in a bit so small and unnecessary it needs an electron microscope to measure its relevance.

But I think it has to be Wesley Snipes reprising his role as Blade (seriously, BLADE?), delivering the line "some motherfucker's STILL trying to ice skate uphill," a cut so deep (no pun intended) that I think I was the only person to laugh in my surprisingly-busy theatre. And as soon as I had laughed, I felt such shame.

Not because I was the only nerd to get that particular joke. But because I felt so casually, easily manipulated by a punchline that is, in essence, "hey, remember that thing? Good times."

That, really, is the entire joke of Deadpool & Wolverine, a movie so densely packed with references to other things it might as well be a two-hour cut of a Family Guy episode.

The plot of the movie (which is so razor-thin it could give Wolverine's claws a run for their money) focuses on how Deadpool, the literal character, could end up joining the Marvel Cinematic Universe, quite literally. And for most of the film's run time, it's just mugging and winking about how this is actually coming to pass with Disney's acquisition of... well, pretty much everything.

There's something just endlessly exhausting about the megacorporation's insistence on blending of intellectual properties, pureeing them into an incomprehensible slop of the worst tendencies of Whedonesque writing, cartoonish ultraviolence, and above all, audience pandering.

Character development? Choices driving plot? Motivations? Shush now, ignore all that and enjoy Jennifer Garner reprising a role that not only cratered her leading lady status but also drove her into the arms of Ben Affleck, a human vortex of suffering. But joking aside, Elektra genuinely is a terrible movie, and it's bizarre to think that somebody - anybody - said "you know what the world needs? More of this."

But that really is the whole point of nostalgia, isn't it? Misremembering the past as this holy, untouchable realm of goodness and purity, when in actual fact, it was a heaping pile of trash with a glaze of mediocrity. And for some reason, Deadpool & Wolverine chooses to revel in that.

The entire affair wouldn't bother me so much if it weren't all so bloody hypocritical. Ryan Reynolds and the team of FOUR OTHER CREDITED WRITERS (yeah, that's not a red flag) seem to see themselves as above Disney's propensity for shoving its superheroes together like kids on a playground ramming actions figures against each in a futile, anatomically incorrect display of sexual frustration. There are several jokes directed at the corporate machine that has spawned this many-tentacled Yog-Sothoth uber-beast that insists that audiences must now see every Marvel property, everywhere, lest they be bereft of key plot points or incidents.

Yet at the same time, the Deadpool & Wolverine team absolutely partake in the same kind of ridiculous "assigned reading" style of writing. I consider myself pretty up on events in X-Men movies, and even I was struggling to wrap my head around just what in the name of Jack Kirby was going on.

It all adds up to a growing frustration - nay, a growing exhaustion - with the centralization and monopolization of the film industry, as ever-growing megacorporations suckle the last tiny teat of creativity into a horrid, shriveled up black stalactite of sameness.

Personally? I've had my fill of being pandered to.

That wraps up the seventh issue of The Lagrange Point! If you enjoyed this little e-newsletter, please consider subscribing, or, if you're already subscribed, sharing it with a friend or family member!

I can't grow this e-newsletter alone. I need lots of mouths spreading lots of words about why people should read The Lagrange Point.

Until next Monday, thank you for reading!

-Tim