Even barbarian heroes get itches in the most private of places.
Even barbarian heroes get itches in the most private of places.
What would you call this little critter that looks to be part tiger, part squirrel, and part pussycat?
I’m sure there are similar undiscovered species lurking somewhere on this earth or another.
These names are culled from my Twitter feed, from the years 2017 – 2020.
Mammalian predators |
Gray-marbled Tigral Bat-Eared Leopard Lynxion Zoyojhe |
Birds |
Mute Amethyst Parakeet Emerald-Capped Tumcan Double-Eyed Widgetoot Black-Chinned Macaw |
Poisonous snakes |
Calico Desert Viper Blue Island Krait Copper Mulgaska Scarlet Machete |
Fish |
Gumbalunga Spitjenny Bubbletooth Sculpin Maiden Crab Pink-lipped Flounder Peahead Bream |
Large herbivores |
Rhinocitor Aguacorn Chelthant Maszitar Sprinzbeek |
These candy-colored lollipop skeletons would make any human drool.
(Artwork by Jason Limon)
Atompunk computers deserve their own nomenclature. Running on vacuum tubes and early transistors, and programmed with miles of magnetic tape and punch cards, in the media they were mostly objects of menace. Many classic SF stories of the age revolve around artificial intelligence taking charge of humans and becoming their overlord.
In the movie Colossus: The Forbin Project, pictured above, a computer programmed to safeguard the U.S.A.’s nuclear weapons develops sentience and manages to take over the world. Released in 1970, but set in the late twentieth century, the designers obviously took care with the machine’s design, basing it on the computers used at the time. Still, to today’s audience, it looks like nothing more than a bunch of colored buttons set in a wall, monitors based on microfiche readers, and a few teletype machines.
Interestingly the movie depicted several women and a POC man as scientists who run the machine (with the aid of those trimline phones in the background, I’m sure.)
A year after Colossus was released came a nifty made-for-TV movie called Paper Man, which starred perennial actor Dean Stockwell. A group of college kids use a computer called Q-7 to create a “paper man” — a fictitious human being with all the right stats that exists only the database. They use it to apply for credit cards and the like, but the computer winds up killing them. The promo commercials imply the murderer is an actual robot-like being made of paper that walks around.
As a child I watched the whole thing, winding up disappointed that it wasn’t a Frankenstein for the computer age. I vaguely recall the computer builds the paper man only at the very end, only for Dean Stockwell to knock its flimsy self down. Or maybe the computer spat out a series of punch cards at him. I’ve heard the whole movie is available on Amazon Prime, so I’ll have to watch it again to find out.
The computer Q-7 itself is correctly depicted as being in a campus basement, but still seems too photogenic for the time with all its flashing lights.
Here’s a pic of an early IBM model at Iowa State University for comparison.
If you need a villanous computer of your own, here’s a randomgenned list.
Turboscholar
Cyclogenius Intelli III Mentat 9 The Iron Scholar Alphawizard Dr. Astro Telethinker 5000 Sim-Wiz 87 Simscholar |
Mechano-Wiz
Delta Sage Mark II Encyclo-WIZZ Mentastic SMART-O-VAC Intellithink Transintellivac V RAMiac 6 Sola-Brain X Ceregram |
Arthur Rackham’s version of a sea monster featuring some very wild dentition.
by David Stafford
BBC Worldwide, 2000
[Challenge # 12 : A book featuring spies or espionage.]
Super-spy shenanigans, the kind we’re familiar with from James Bond movies and Cold War espionage novels, began in WWII — in the offices of Britain’s Special Operations Executive, a secret agency separate from the regular spy agency, the SIS. The SOE dealt with the dirtier aspects of the war, like destroying enemy infrastructure, working with resistance groups inside Nazi Europe, assassination, and propaganda. This book, written in conjunction with a BBC TV documentary series that came out in 2000, acts as both an accompaniment and extension of it.
I have to say I learned a lot, but also that it was kind of dull. This was probably because the book was designed for those who had already seen the documentary and wanted to go more in depth on the subject matter. But it didn’t help that the more exciting SOE episodes from the war, such as the destruction of a heavy water plant in Norway that foiled Nazi Germany’s plans for an atom bomb, were rendered lackadaisically. I know this wasn’t supposed to be a thriller novel, but I just didn’t feel the danger and risk.
It didn’t help that a lot of the reminisces of the folks who actually worked in the SOE during the war were along the lines of “Captain Jenkins was a rough and tough jolly sort of fellow who knew his P’s and Q’s.” I’m exaggerating, of course, but it did seem that was all most of them had to say. The book and documentary came out in 2000, so I’m sure many of those folks have passed by now.
(That brings up a haunting point: within my lifetime, all of the people who had first-hand memories of WWII will be gone, victims to fighters to perpetrators.)
Another fault of the book is that it barely mentioned the most spectacular of the SOE’s successes, the assassination of Nazi leader Reinhard Heydrich.
The book did have some interesting parts, such as the dangers of the radio operators, who accompanied the teams of agents on enemy territory. The operators were a must-have as they were the only means of communication with the agency. The messages were heavily coded, and went first to a human radio operator in England who transcribed them, then on to a decoder who resolved the actual message. Radio technology being what it is, they were often heavily garbled. But there were no international phone lines or internet back then. The radio sets were a little larger than what might fit in a cigar box, and transmission was very risky as the Nazi occupiers had means to sniff out locations. For safety’s sake the radio operators were always on the move.
Other interesting parts dealt with a branch of the SOE that made forgeries and primitive James Bond-like gadgets, such as an exploding rat. Seriously.
I also learned some things I’d rather not know, such as the fate of several women SOE agents, who captured and executed at a German concentration camp — injected with Phenol (phenolbarbital) and shoved into a cremation oven still alive, though presumably unconscious. The incident so traumatized the Nazi guard that did the deed he ran away from the camp and never went back.
I have to say the book did inspire an interest in the time period for me. I’ve watched several good movies and documentaries on Nazi Germany and also on the Mossad, who was responsible for bringing Adolf Eichmann to justice.
Tobor the Great, from the 1954 movie of the same name
Atompunk robots (those in media from 1945 – 1965) tend to have the same sort of names. Short ones like Gort, cutesy ones like Robbie or Tobor (“Robot” spelled backwards) or functional ones combining scientific terms with letters and numbers. That’s the sort I was after here with this randomly generated list. These names showed up most frequently on toys, models, and illustrations, perhaps inspired by early names for computers and rockets. As always, some silliness was generated.
Urani-33
Cyber N-48 Colossus 1 Turboman Centauriton Cryptino Tetrabolt the Invincible Cometsprocket Unit X-55 Magna 51 Ovibot Meteor 5 Unit Centauri The Iron Colossus Turbo-One The Indefatiguable Automaton Z-945 Crypton 58 |
Gigantino
Atrius Symano Atom-3 Servantmech 963 Unilino Sparkov Motorius The Iron Terror Red Unit E-35 Roto 42 Masero The Indomitable Botimus Gog 4 The Iron Defender Astroton Omni 5 |
One of the futurism themes of the post-WWII era was transportation. This makes sense. Innovations in manufacturing and aircraft design, the growth of large cities, and the need for improved highway systems and vehicles all came together in a magic moment, in the Western world at least. Germany had its Autobahn, Britain the M- series of roads, and the US the Interstate system of super-highways. All of these promised a world of speed and possibilities.
Illustration by Arthur Radebaugh
The Bohn corporation only made alloys, but you’d never know it from their series of ads depicting exotic vehicles in the early years of the Atompunk age. None of which were ever built. But this twin-rotor helicopter has a distant military cousin, the Boeing Chinook.
A French company promised a future flying in doughnut-shaped coléoptère aircraft, which had the ability to take off and land on its tail so long runways were not needed. But the technology just wasn’t there yet, prompting problems with controlling the ungainly beast. There was also the problem of how to load passengers.
The Vanadium Corporation of America muscled into Bohn’s act, touting not only a Cadillac-like milk delivery truck, but also an underslung monorail.
These small monorail cars must have been inspired by Disneyland’s Peoplemover, long lost in the Steampunk revival of Futureworld. Slightly larger versions now shuttle passengers around airports.
How’s this for a wild ride? It’s hard to say if this two-story train and its rail is sailing off into the sky or tethered by those horseshow-shaped pylons to the earth. I say it’s sailing off, the horseshoes containing an antigravity function.
This institutional ad featured a real-life flying saucer car, like that seen on the cartoon show The Jetsons. Interestingly Mom is driving it with ease, a paper sack of groceries in the seat beside her as there’s no trunk. The Pointer dog apparently came along for the ride.
The US Airforce came out with a whole zoo of exotic jets during this time. This one is a follow-up to the A-12 / SR-71 Blackbird.
Not to be outdone, the US Navy came up with this long-necked ekranoplan design which ran on skis. Did it have its own nuclear reactor on board? Of course!
Ursula K. LeGuin’s political science fiction novel The Dispossessed has as its subtitle “An Ambiguous Utopia.” But screw that. Isn’t this a whamdoodle of a cover? Twin worlds, close enough to touch, one lush and green, one red like Mars but cratered like the Moon, done up in a riotous rainbow of colors?
(I’ll do a later post on the many covers of the novel, which is approaching its 50th anniversary.)
I bought this very same paperback as a teenager just because of it, and because I liked LeGuin and had heard good buzz about the book. On reading it, however, I was underwhelmed, because I expected something grandious and full of action, and The Dispossessed is not that. It shares the Cold War background that rooted The Left Hand of Darkness (literally, in that case, because Gethen was a planet in its ice age) but lacks the romance and adventure of it. However, that doesn’t mean it is a bad book. Just beyond 9th grade me.
Now I can appreciate it for what it is, and in fact it’s something of a comfort read, in that I re-visit it every few years and always take back something new on the reading. Which is the mark of a superior writer, IMO.
One of the things that I appreciate anew, and have respect for, is LeGuin’s method for naming the characters. Those living on Anarres, the “moon” of the Tau Ceti system (though it’s really more of a double planet arrangement) are named by a computer on their birth, a unique, two-syllable, randomly generated name using a limited number of consonant sounds (b, d, g, gv, k, l, m, n, p, r, s, sh, t, v) and vowels (a, e, i, u) which the parents must accept no matter how crazy the sound of it is, because it’s what they are ideologically conditioned to do — Anarres being a sort of Communism that actually works, without the authoritarianism. Shevek, Bedap, Gvarab, Pipar are some examples of the names. Anarrians get only one name, the idea of a family or family line being one of the “propertarian” elements they divested themselves from when they left Urras as polotical exiles.
Those living on the home planet, Urras, in contrast, have flamboyant multi-vowel names that are sort of Hawaiian, sort of Latin, to my ears anyway. This is for only one language, that of the nation of A-Io, which is accepted as the “America” country analog (though to me it reads more like Switzerland.) The other nations have their own languages.
Writing fanfic on either world? Here are some names for you.
Anarres
Bapuv Dolesh Gvubul Kemluk Kerigv Kikeb Leksus Listek Lunas Lutek Maklis Nashas Nuran Pansir Rakud Rutim Sesrel Shadig Shidil Shumun Shuvat Sirit Susbur Telush Tuptar Viblin Vupad |
Urras
Rae Ieseano Opo Dae Turi Ievo Pon Aru Oemanai Sanoi Airo Isru Ere Nait Atru Shul Afoe Poiae Ini Nilae Eusae Sei Nea Soi Aetu Uira Kae Nui Iko Viti Enail Te Reto Inai Vadoua Kio Pe Amo Li Vaa Chaea Saniou Ili Ea Ute Amo Li Pulea Ralii |
In the glory years of the Atompunk Age it was customary for major automakers to create buzz by depicted futuristic “concept cars” showing what may be coming down the assembly line in the next few years. This marvelous illustration not only shows the Ford Gyron with its rocket-like tailight/exhaust piece, but also what were thought of as futuristic fashions… any of which could be used today, as a likewise example, for a movie about the future. There’s an exmphasis on wide, stiff cowl necklines, and Jiffy-pop skirts for the women. (But notice they are still wearing stiletto heels and white gloves.)
I also like the illustrator’s style, again indicative of the time: angular yet casual, breezy, posed, graceful, using a limited palette of oranges, pinks, steel blue, and brown.