Hopefully, what I was attempting to imply was implied correctly.
Date: 21 Oct 2012 20:06
Number of posts: 22
RSS: New posts
It's hard for me to imagine Lord Blackwood as a tired old man, let alone one standing witnesses to World War I. He's such a product of the Victorian era - an era where Britain stood undefeated on the global stage and the advance of science heralded a new age of enlightenment. For him to then see all of those progresses turned into industrialized mass murder that decimated an entire generation and left its survivors as world-weary cynics… how could he bear it?
On the other hand, maybe that's why he's since chosen to ignore the last century, and believe that Victoria is still the queen, Edison's motion-picture-camera is the latest in scientific innovation, and Britannia still rules the waves.
I'll have to think about this one before I decide how to vote on it.
It's hard for you and you specifically, because you've spent so much time writing him as a perfect spectacle manliness incapable of fault.
I don't think i've ever described Lord Blackwood as "incapable of fault". By any standard, his worldview is parochial and chauvinist, his attitudes towards women and minorities are reprehensible, and he rushes headlong into danger without considering the consequences. I've only written one tale where he nets a clean "victory" at the end - most of the time, he barely makes it out alive, and there's nobody around to confirm his tales anyway.
It's just… I have trouble imagining him outside his temporal "comfort zone", that's all.
I see it as a fitting development. His time is past, and as the world he represented is dying, so is he, and he can't do a thing about it. The torch is in his hand and he can't pass it on.
Compare the old men and the HMFSCP. The old men are all of Blackwood's time and the old school of paranormal study, the HMFSCP are the new. The paranormal isn't fun and adventures any more with pulp heroes in pith helmets: it's darkness and danger and things to be feared, dealt with by anonymous men in masks.
Transition points are always good for stories. They can provide a sense of completion when the torch is handed down, and a sense of melancholy when it isn't.
I like it. It's very well-written and interesting, but it is kind of strange imagining Blackwood as a bitter, shriveled old husk of a man1 (psychologically, that is). Also, given that this is the Foundation/proto-Foundation dealing with this, am I wrong to assume that it's 186 that's being investigated? 'Cause that would be great/horrifying.
The big honking BLACKWOOD tag at the bottom does kind of ruin the subtlety. Not that it can avoided, I'm just sayin'.
Wow. I wish I hadn't scrolled down enough to see the tags, because the punch of the final two lines would have been astounding. But I like this. The final (human) days of Lord Blackwood.
I've been mulling this over all day and I still can't bring myself to vote for or against it. It's well written, and it's a good tale, and emotionally impactful, but I just can't bear to see Lord Blackwood in this state. Compared to the "jovial old kook who's generous to his nephews" version of elderly Blackwood I wrote in my recent tale, this is just an old man, ready to die because he's lived long enough to see his life's achievements go to pot. And that makes me sad, because Lord Blackwood just doesn't belong in World War I, any more than you could put Indiana Jones in the '90s, or Jeeves and Wooster in Stalinist Russia, or Biggles in the cockpit of an F-35.
But that's just me and my attachment to the version of Lord Blackwood I've created.
Perhaps a split between Lord Blackwood the man and Lord Blackwood the sea slug occurred at some point. The sea slug took all of his joviality with it.
As much of a downer ending as it is, this really does add some great depth to Blackwood and integrates him into one headcanon splendidly. It is great for what it allows the reader to imagine— a band of these old men who can remember when containment was a matter of a few padlocks and plenty of gunpowder. They are just one more era coming to a close with world war one. I know I'm waxing poetical but this and 186 are really touching.
I sing of arms and the man
Storm-tossed by Hera's jealousy