the ramble dump

This whole thing was a disaster! Maybe if he looked into his new costume he would find help. NOOOOOOOOOOOO! It was a fluffy pink bunny costume rented from WarrenWorld Theme Park! The best thing he could do was to take a sharp turn left and go through the girls' bathroom.

It was five years ago this month, I realised, that I wrote the first parts of that Halo parody and put it on that legendary website which had been forged by the minds of two fourteen-year-old geniuses. In personal terms, that's a hell of a long time. Over a quarter of a lifetime ago, in fact. (Fat Man In Tweed proper had its second birthday sometime last week.)

Not only does this mean that the character of Master Beef, conceived by my fourteen-year-old mind, is five years old as well (and I'm still using him); it also means that I've been posting stuff online, under this guise of 'writer', for just as long. And I keep asking myself: why?

The original answer is obvious enough: I'm just playing around. That's what we were doing with Fod, and the myriad other websites that myself and the Artist Formerly Known As Olli created. That's what I've been doing ever since, with the boardfics as well as the websites. Whatever grand schemes I might stumble upon along the way, and however carried away or excited I might get about some big story or idea, in the end I'm doing it because I enjoy it. That doesn't mean I'm treating it trivially -- in fact, I put a lot of work into it, and probably take it all too seriously -- but ultimately this website is a hobby. First and foremost, it's a way to entertain myself, while at the same time being personally meaningful and fulfilling in the same way that any other hobby might be. I get to reap the personal benefits, whatever they may be, of exploring my own thoughts, performing amateurish experiments with the 'craft' of storytelling and nudging together a few other ideas.

The point of this website as an attempt at exploring myself and the world around me is a conclusion I at least sort of arrived at already. But this doesn't explain why I need a website to do it. Couldn't I do all this in private journals? Another obvious answer here which I've already given in previous ramblings is that by putting it online, I get to put it out there for everybody to see. I like to entertain others with this stuff, and maybe some distant reader somewhere will find something interesting about it beyond that, even if it's really not good enough to achieve publication anywhere else. That is the best and worst thing about the internet: you're free to post whatever crap you want.

The other thing about the internet is that you have a certain level of anonymity. Even if I put my name on every page, I remain mostly hidden from view. It's a weird position to take after admitting that I want people to see what I've written, but I'm actually more comfortable with it being read by silent strangers than by my friends, many of whom still don't even know this place exists. It allows me, as a ridiculously self-conscious person, to maintain this illusion of being alone with my thoughts, paradoxically aware that at the same time it's out there to be seen. This is why, on those rare occasions that some random person sends me a friendly message about the site, I find myself slightly unnerved.

Besides these floating few, however, and as much as I get paranoid about plastering my copyright over everything I post, it's probably another self-imposed, happy illusion to imagine that I have much of a readership at all. But Fat Man In Tweed has its benefits anyway. Being able to publish things at all makes me feel more productive, but posting online, specifically all on one website, gives me a focus point for my efforts. As a 'project', it feels more substantive and it gives me a place to bring my thoughts together. With the serial fictions like The Aberration, I get to conduct an ongoing exploration of my own version of ideas (in theory also leaving it there to be considered by others), and then, in areas where I feel like being a little more explicit, I can toddle over to this blog and write about it here, along with all the other stuff I've been thinking about. A lot of my more ponderous, recent blogposts tend to end on something of a triumphant note, not because I've made some important new philosophical discovery, but because I feel like I've been able to work through something on my own and come to at least some sort of conclusion.

Ever since its inception, I've been conscious of Fat Man In Tweed as more of an entity in itself than other website I've worked on. And because of that, it has turned into something else. All this going back and forth and cross-referencing myself could in part just be me dwelling in my own egotism, but the effect of having Fat Man In Tweed as a focus point for all these things, leading to everything sort of bouncing off each other, will hopefully mean that something will eventually begin to resonate in some kind of meaningful way. On a personal level, at least, I'm finding that this is true already, bringing to clearer attention those things that are really preoccupying my mind. The website, it turns out, can function as a nucleus of personal thought in unexpected, interesting, and maybe even useful ways. For all it contains, it's proving to be a worthwhile medium for expression in itself.

Labels: bananas and laxatives, boardfic, excerpts, i am the ramblemaster, the aberration, webtechnical

# posted by Chris @ 11:00 PM 0 comments

My Big Orange File, or BOF, is something of a personal artefact. It spans roughly a year's worth of writing, starting from the end of 2002 to the fruitful backside of 2003, and contains the beginnings of such, er, well-loved creations as Agaffa, Master Beef, and the G'raffe Song. This, along with a mostly-empty Tesco Value notepad containing only a list of strange poem titles and the single one that actually got written, is my starting point, as I attempt to answer... a question.

In almost every interview with an author I've read, the author gets asked, 'Where do you get your ideas from?', which has always struck me as a rather stupid thing to ask. But, whereas most authors will answer vaguely, 'Oh, from all over the place, really...', and while I make no claim to being a 'proper', published author, I'm going to attempt to answer it properly. And I'm going to do it through The Aberration, because doing stuff through examples is the best way, dudes.

Alright, yes, this is just a bad excuse to waffle at length about a lot of my old stuff, and probably the only person it's remotely interesting to is myself, but I'd rather procrastinate on a grand scale than do any kind of proper work, and as this is my blog, I can do what I like. And anyway, there are some answers to such vitally important questions as, 'Why "Master Beef"?', 'What made you pick Fat Man In Tweed as your website name?', and 'Why does Amelia call you "muffinkid"?' in there somewhere. And also: pretty pictures.

Note: this won't be in much of a coherent order, as ideas don't have a habit of forming coherently. Be warned: random tangents abound.

Part 1: Bananas and Laxatives



(From the Fod conception scripts. Olli went over the green writing to make it more legible, using an illegible font.)



Fod, started in February 2003, was another attempt, after a long line of them, at a collaborative website with friend Olli Smith. My first idea for it was a spoof of the video game Halo. I named it Bananas and Laxatives, and it was the first time I'd really put any of my writing online. It was consciously bad quality, containing gratuitous swearing and all the character mutilations and twisted ways to mess up the Halo universe that my fourteen-year-old mind could think of. The Covenant, the main enemy, became the Convent: an alliance of nuns, prostitutes, politicians and pro-wrestlers.

(Random aside: on page 299 of The Fall of Reach, one of the official Halo novels, 'Covenant' is actually typo'd as 'Convent'. Well, I laughed.)

Most chapters were accompanied by a screenshot from the game, beautifully transformed in Microsoft Paint. (Ironically, Cortana ended up with long hair in Halo 2 anyway. They obviously modelled her on her B&L equivalent, Bore-Tana.)

A violin tune that sounded like a strangled cat (if they make any noise) played as Captain PLEEEAAASE gave Bore-Tana the bad news the Convent was rapidly approaching. Bore-Tana had a tantrum. 'But I don't wanna be a nun!' she wailed.

Reveille It Up!

Meanwhile, in the cry-o-tube place thingy, Master Beef awoke. He started crying as he got out and a small man rushed to him. It was Pitri.

'It's OK, sir,' he said. 'We'll have you warmed up in no time!' He handed Beef a hot cocoa with marshmallows as he sniffled. He slurped at it.

'Why's he crying?' asked Sam, calling and leaning on the very big fragile glass window on the wall.

'It's a cry-o-tube, Sam, you dumbass!'

'Sorry Pitri. I'll just bring his health online then.'

'I suppose you should.' said Pitri.

'He needs his shield, Pitri. Give him that, if you can manage.'

'Dumbass!' Pitri handed Beef a silver tea tray. 'It will come in very handy, sir!'

'Thank you, Pitri.' said Beef. 'Thank you, Dumbass!' he called up to Sam.

'Sir, my name isn't Dumbass!'

The line of thought when I wrote this was 'What rhymes with "Master Chief" that would be hilarious?' Of course, 'Master Beef' was the spectacular end result. His pink rabbit costume was just another result of the mounting ridiculousness...

There was a knocking at the automatic door (is that bloody possible?). Dumbass...er...I mean Sam...opened it. Then they flooded in; ghostly figures in black that glided across the room and surrounded him. 'We come in the peace and the harmony of the Universe,' one sang in a high voice. 'Stay calm as we melt your...BRAIN!!!' The last word was particularly high and screechy and the huge glass panel smashed, causing Sam to fall to his doom. What a dumbass...

Luckily, the few nuns that fell through with him ended their lives with a sticky splat, but Pitri and Beef were running out of time. 'Quick sir!' said Pitri. 'This way!' The two of them ran through an automatic door (which apparently you can knock) and Beef knelt down to tie his bootlace. Pitri ran on ahead, but the nuns' echoing voices made his head explode.

'Bugger!' exclaimed Beef. Now he had no weapons and, because Pitri was gone, no shield either. The nuns had probably engulfed his tea tray. He looked back through the door window. NO!! They were using it to have a tea party! They had those cursed china toy cups and saucers too!

'Would you like some tea, Maggie?' one sang. 'Yes please!' chirruped another.

This whole thing was a disaster! Maybe if he looked into his new costume he would find help. NOOOOOOOOOOOO! It was a fluffy pink bunny costume rented from WarrenWorld Theme Park! The best thing he could do was to take a sharp turn left and go through the girls' bathroom.

And so it continued...

'Beeeeeef!' came a deep, irritated voice from one of the other cubicles. Beef plodded through the cubicles following the voice until he opened the final cubicle door and there was a head sticking out of the toilet. 'Beeeeeef! You made it!'

'What the fuck are you doing in there?'

'It's a long story,' said the captain. 'But I'll bore you with it anyway!'

After some confusion, Bore-Tana and Master Beef found themselves stuck in Gecko 4-19 with Poo Whammer and five mindless Marines. One, called Billy, had a perpetual smile and wouldn't take his eyes off Beef. 'I have new socks on!' he grinned, revealing red socks with some balloons on.

'Right, you motherfuckers, get off my Pelican! I have work to do!' The metallic ship suddenly went on a slant and the seven of them slid out of the cargo bay and hit the sandy ground hard. As Gecko 4-19 flew off, another Pelican landed and dropped off five more Marines.

'Wahoo! All right! Let's party!' The ten of them started doing the conga as Master Beef and Bore-Tana watched in dismay.

Beef armed himself with his assault rifle and followed them, keeping his distance.

He rubbed his hands together. 'Oohoohoo, this'll be fun!' He climbed in and made doubly sure that he found the turret switch while Sam got in beside him. 'Here comes Master Beef, protector of the universe that's not even worth saving!' He laughed loudly. 'Ooooooooh, it has machine guns, too!'

The tank, in all its half glory, rolled over and crushed the landscape, proudly and merrily. The three comrades sang true patriotic songs ('The wheels on the tank go round and round...') as they aimed for nowhere in particular.

'Brghgeehfghe!'

'What was that?'

'What?'

'Brhghefhghe!'

'The door, it's...opening!'

'God, no! How can this possibly be?'

'Shut up, Jenkins!'

'Brhghegfhdgfdgehghe!'

'Argh! It's on my face! It's small and brown and tasty and it's attacking me! Argh!'

'Haha!'

'Shut up Jenkins and fire your weapon! No, Jenkins, don't pick your nose again. What the--argh!'

'Hello, Mr Small Round Person! Wha? Get away from me! I don't like you! Argh!'

>>>UNEXPECTED HALT X. BLOCKBUSTER NOTICE: DAMAGED TAPE FINE $10. PLEASE VISIT US AGAIN SOON.

The Crud

Beef took his helmet off. 'That was odd.'

'Brhhghgefhehhghe!'

'What the--'

'Brghghghfhfhghfhfgmmmmmmmmm!'

'Uh oh...'

Suddenly, small, round, brown creatures came oozing through the doors.

'M...M...' Beef stuttered.

They crawled and bounced closer towards him; he armed himself with his assault rifle.

'Muffins!'

One of them lunged at his mouth and exploded in his fur.

'Oh my fuck, they're double chocolate!' He fired rapidly at them; dozens of chocolate explosions alerted more of them, and soon all six doors became muffin entrances.

He turned to the door he had originally come through. There, stood the Sarge of the previous gang, but he wasn't the old Sarge. He was...one of them. There was a strenuous fart, a constipated sounding wheeze and the mutated Crud-form Sarge lunged himself at Beef.

The shotgun was always the answer to everything.

Beef escaped while he could, running through the continuous waves of Crud, who had conveniently starting appearing since they were introduced to the storyline. Beef encountered countless muffins, Crud-Marines and even Crud Nuns. The most horrific of all, though, were the huge muffin-headed ones that stupidly fell over and exploded, scattering dozens of new muffins.

(I later used the muffin on the right of the image above as an avatar on a message board. Eyebrows were raised, questions were asked, and, well, the muffin became an integral part of my dazzling persona. That, ladies and gentlemen, is why Amelia calls me 'muffinkid'.)

Suddenly, a microwave started to hover over his head. 'Greetings!' it said in an accent that was supposed to be English but you could tell it was American. It pinged, its door flung open and a pie went flying into a huddle of nearby muffins. 'I am 343 Salty Mark. This has got out of hand. I ask you to come with me, but in the end you haven't really got a choice, because I'll just teleport you anyway. Come.'

There was some yellow ambience and the two of them disappeared.

'Beef?' came the voice of Poo Whammer on the radio. 'Beef, I've lost your signal! Beef? Beef! Haha, sucker.'

343 Salty Mark, also known as The Microwave, was the result of a conversation with my brother as I was playing the final level of Halo, jumping around and throwing grenades into things. He commented on how he thought it was all very unfair on Guilty Spark and the Sentinels, because they were just trying to protect themselves. I asked how the machines had formed, not really knowing the background to the game in much detail. He replied, 'I don't know, they evolved from microwaves or something.'

We laughed.

Then Salty Mark remembered that the Crud were lurking closely. 'We must avoid the you-know-what,' he said. 'I am not a public cafeteria and do not have enough pies for all of them!'

Beef took a book off one of the shelves.

Salty Mark Snacks
The Definitive
Salt Snack Guide

'You're an author?' Beef asked.

'I prefer to think of myself as a chef, but yes, if that's what you want me to be.'

'Actually, I couldn't care less.' said Beef. 'I'm just trying to make small conversation for the hell of it.'

'Debt Reclaimer?'

'Yeah?'

'You are an ass.'

''K.'

Bananas and Laxatives was never properly completed, although I did start writing the sequel, Bananas and Laxatives 2: Fragmentation Memories, supposedly the 'third person' diaries of Master Beef chronicling the events that took place after Beef returned home. It was to feature the return of such characters as the Convent, Sam and Salty Mark, along with new characters such as Lara Schmoft, Captain Knees, a talking walrus taking residence at WarrenWorld themepark, and Master Cheese. Most of the ideas I had for the sequel were jotted down on several post-it notes that I still have. A third story was also considered, a Matrix parody in which Beef wasn't even the main protagonist, but was to die spectacularly at the end.

But...it wasn't to be, and Bananas and Laxatives was abandoned after a rather nonsensical final chapter for the original story was posted on a message board and completely ignored, revealing Halo and the events surrounding it as a huge conspiracy staged by a massive laxatives company.

And, well, I quite liked writing about the character of the hilariously named Master Beef. And so I continued to do so.

Labels: a history of development, agaffa, bananas and laxatives, excerpts, halo, i am the ramblemaster, the aberration, videogames

# posted by Chris @ 12:06 AM 0 comments

Now that the Easter holidays have started, I can start getting things done. And who knows? Maybe I even will. I have exam revision to be doing, but I'll still have quite a lot of free time.

The Aberration, Starcustard, Agaffa, A Room Full Of Zombies...and fatmanintweed.com. It's odd, I never really considered Kommingle as a 'project' as such...at least, not in the same way I consider all these other things to be...but with Fat Man In Tweed, it's different. It's a much bigger challenge now that I don't have anybody to rely on for the financial side of things, or for the webdesign.

Anyway.

Something completely unrelated: Master Beef, the protagonist of The Aberration, was originally created as the main character of a spoof of the first Halo game. The spoof was called Bananas and Laxatives. I intend to bring back some of the characters from the spoof. This will mean some nice Halo references for fans of the game(s), but it won't ruin it for those who don't really know anything about it.

You could always go and look up some information on the Halo games if you want to try and guess which characters' spoof versions are going to be used. :P

Or, alternatively, you could just not bother. Up to you, really.

Labels: agaffa, bananas and laxatives, halo, starcustard, the aberration, videogames, zombies

# posted by Chris @ 10:44 PM 0 comments