Hyrule Haeresis 2

So the Ergeans are really annoyed that Alexander/Deanna, Lwaxana/Worf and Geordi/Selar are up and about, so they order them back to their cells. Worf (as Lwaxana) isn’t having any of that though and, in a single, beautiful moment I *really, really* wish Majel Barrett had gotten to act out, throws his/her head back, yells out a battle cry, body slams the Ergeans and powerbombs all three of them to the mat while bellowing “Cowards! This time you have bitten off a great deal more than you can chew!”.
Frankly if you’re not already sold on this book by the concept of Majel Barrett powerbombing aliens and immediately convinced this series is one of the greatest things in the history of Star Trek, there’s nothing more I can do for you, so you might as well pack it all in now.
Back on the Enterprise, the Sakerions exposit that while outsiders have long believed that the Ergeans were governed by a succession of triumvirates, this is actually not the case. In truth, there was only ever one triumvirate, but they gave themselves functional immortality through a machine that allowed consciousnesses to be transplanted from one body to the next. And due to the Ergeans’ strong regard for life, the donor body’s original consciousness was transplanted as well, so nobody would ever have to die. But over time, the triumvirate grew authoritarian as Ergean society went through hardship, and one day the people refused to transplant their consciousnesses, instead sealing them away in mind receptacles until the time where it was felt they would be needed again. The Sakerions think the Ergeans might feel that time has come, and they’ve chosen the bodies of Worf, Selar and Deanna as the latest “volunteers”. Captain Picard asks if the process is reversable, and the Sakerions say yes (luckily for us they managed to…acquire…the necessary technology from the Ergeans) but they will have to hurry, as the bonds between consciousnesses and their original bodies break down if they are separated for too long.
Down on the planet, the issue’s requisite fight scene is still going on. Selar (as Geordi) is busting some sick action moves until one of the Ergeans grabs Deanna who, as Alexander, is not in much of a position to fight back. It looks like Selar will be forced to surrender too until Worf (again as Lwaxana) unloads a phaser rifle round into his chest from across the room. Lwaxana herself re-enters the picture shortly thereafter, and is decidedly not amused by the alleged indignity of being forced to become a warrior. This is no throwaway joke either, because it’s promptly followed by a truly great scene where Alexander returns to the surface and expresses shock and horror at being able to feel the emotions of his attackers the same way Deanna Troi can, because it makes it difficult to be a warrior. To which Selar responds, “this is why Vulcans prefer peace”.
Geordi comes back and explains that he’s found a way out in the form of a sealed off room with a large energy flow.…
When I was writing my first volume of Vaka Rangi, I was faced with a dilemma on how to frame the book. I have little to no personal or nostalgic connection to the original Star Trek or its animated sequel so my episode-to-episode reactions were by definition going to be mostly as I saw it. But I still wanted to come up with something unique to say about this most important period of Star Trek history, so I initially decided to structure the book around telling as “real” a story about the franchise’s formative years as I could, with a careful eye towards historical mythbusting in general, in particular how it pertained to the shows creator, the ever-mythologized Gene Roddenberry. I soon realised, however, that this was a task far too massive for me to undertake given the scope of the project I had cast, and quickly found myself intimidated and overwhelmed by the sheer scale of conflicting stories and seemingly deliberate disinformation surrounding Roddenberry and Star Trek. While I still hoped to convey a general idea for what Star Trek actually was and was envisioned as being (and I do feel, and hope, I managed some degree of success), the behind-the-scenes stuff became far too complicated a topic for me to tackle with any aspirations of genuine comprehension.
Thankfully, the task was not too overwhelming and intimidating for Lance Parkin, whose new book The Impossible Has Happened: The Life and Work of Gene Roddenberry, Creator of Star Trek, is an unauthorized biography of the man in question that sets about clearing the air and getting at the heart of what sort of a man Gene Roddenberry really was, and how he both shaped and was himself in turn shaped by what Star Trek came to represent. Readers of this blog will no doubt know Parkin for his work with Doctor Who, but for those who might not know he’s also an accomplished writer and chronicler in other genre fiction circles. He’s previously written a similar biography of Alan Moore, as well as series guides for both Alias, His Dark Materials and the *entire* Star Trek franchise up through the third season of Enterprise. He’s also contributed to Star Trek Magazine and written a number of interesting critical analyses of the series independently, so he’s well poised to take on the task of retelling the life story of the man who perpetually seems to be at the centre of it all.
The problem, as Parkin himself outlines it in his Introduction, is that there have traditionally only been two ways of looking at Gene Roddenberry. Either he was a prophetic visionary messiah who dreamed a wonderful dream of a utopian future who fought and died for the ideals it stood for, or he was a lying, cheating, manipulative scumbag and self-promoter who saw that a passionate group of fans had taken a throwaway idea of his and turned it into something special and then set about revising history and making everything about himself so that he could cash in on it.…
1994 didn’t see Playmates unveil a lot for fans of the Star Trek: Deep Space Nine side of the Paramount lot, but what it did release was more than enough. Because for the first time, Starbase Deep Space 9 was finally immortalized in plastic.
“’Suppose that truth is a woman-And why not? Aren’t there reasons for suspecting that all philosophers, to the extent that they have been dogmatists, have not really understood women?’ There is thus a residue that philosophy has not known how to read, for which it has not been able to account. When matters become urgent or when truth is at stake, Nietzsche gives this residue a name: woman.”
–Beyond Good and Evil, Friedrich Nietzsche, as translated by Judith Norman, as cited by Avital Ronell in conversation with Anne Dufourmantelle in Fighting Theory
Zelda no Densetsu (lit. The Legend of Zelda) opens up with the declaration that this is a legend that has been “passed down from generation to generation”.
The Legend of Zelda has thus been, from the very beginning, something from the recesses of our shared memory. The secret history of Zelda is that she truthfully only exists at her purest in an unknowable primordial state lost long ago to the collective dreamtime. Even the “original” Legend of Zelda arrived in its present state shaped by the expectations and experiences of its previous incarnations. It is also, first and foremost, a fairy tale in the most classical sense: It is a coming of age story about a boy becoming a hero and, through doing so, finding his true self.
Not only is The Legend of Zelda a fairy tale, it’s a very specific and particular fairy tale, namely, Super Mario Bros. Designers Shigeru Miyamoto and Takashi Tezuka were working on Zelda no Densetsu for the Famicom Disk System at the exact same time they were working on Super Mario Bros. for the Famicom (though Super Mario Bros. was to be released first in 1985, a year ahead of Zelda in 1986), and the two titles wound up sharing a great deal of thematic concepts and overtones. One of which is the plot: In both games, a peaceful fantasy kingdom is invaded by an evil wizard from another land. The only person powerful enough to stop the wizard is the kingdom’s princess regent, who is captured and locked away so she can’t fight back. A humble, unassuming everyman steps forth and volunteers to go on a journey to free the princess, repel the invaders and bring peace back to the land.
The first way in which The Legend of Zelda is transformed from its dream-state thus comes about as consequence of being filtered through the lens of Super Mario Bros. And there are certain things irrevocably lost and altered in translation: Most notably, Super Mario Bros., as we have since learned from games like Super Mario Bros. 3 and recent statements from Mr. Miyamoto, is fundamentally a travelling stage show reinterpreted as a video game. There is no constructed “Mario Universe” and the Mario characters are merely a troupe of actors. The basic story of Super Mario Bros. is reiterated in every “serious” mainline Mario game because it is nothing more than a stage show being performed in different venues at different times with different interpretations from the company.…