Friday, June 28, 2013
Googled
Like many others (Danger Theatre and Cyndi Wilde have posted about it) I got a TOS warning from Blogger about adverts to adult sites. Well, not a problem for me per se but a quite sh*tty thing to do to those two fine women, as well as others I might not be aware of. I don't post my musings here as a cheaper alternative to therapy. I do intend, ideally, to communicate and also to read what others have to say on DiD topics. If Blogger makes life intolerable for them, they'll do it to me, too. I am thinking of Tumblr, folks. Yeah, yeah, I know, but still....
Friday, June 14, 2013
The Anti-Damsel
Maybe some of you have already come across this video of a woman at a Dunkin' Donuts trying to cash in on a company pledge to give each customer a receipt or to make the order free of charge. What follows is an 8 minute rant that eventually turns racist for... no particular reason, as the poor employees were being a lot nicer to this rude trash than I would be.
Now, I am sure most people find the woman unpleasant, low-class, entitled, lazy and just plain nasty and rude lonnnnng before she unveils her lovely racist rant. Nevertheless I bet most people would be able to at least endure her until she starts calling the employees names -- that's the moment where she unambiguously crosses the line from "obnoxious" to "I-can-throw-you-out-of-my-store."
The racism is appalling, and I do not mean to suggest in what follows that my that-tears-it moment is worse than the racism, just that it comes earlier. My line-crossing moment comes a lot sooner than the vile, stupid hate at the end. It's not the lack of the word "please" in anything she says -- the overwhelming sense of entitlement this idiot has. It's not the the laughingly incredible assertion that she has, like, a business degree, so she knows how things are supposed to work -- the unsubtle threat (well, maybe subtle for her) that she can get the poor minimum wage sap at the counter fired (the hilarious 'this is all under video surveillance' comment as she holds up her smart phone). It's not even the harassment of another customer, who just tries not to get involved (and I don't blame him, although I don't think I would remain neutral for that long in his place.)
It occurs around the 6 minute mark in the link above. The woman, one Taylor Chapman, originally from Indiana or Kentucky but apparently deported to Florida for crimes against civility, starts suggesting that the workers in the rear making up her (free) food order are hacking up spitballs into her food. Then she says, "That's why I'm giving this to my boyfriend. I don't trust them."
What a lucky guy.
Now on one level it's just disgustingly amusing. I laughed at first at the hideous mendacity and selfishness. However it also speaks volumes as to what this girl-thing thinks of her boyfriend, how she conceives her "empowerment." She doesn't have to put up with any inconvenience -- that's what her bf is for. Note: not her besties. Not her sis. Her boyfriend.
This is the Anti-Damsel: what makes her the anti-damsel is not her "empowerment" -- plenty of strong, capable, brave and smart women can er, serve as damsel-fuel. It should not be assumed that a damsel "needs a man to rescue her" - a rescue fantasy is not the same thing as a woman's always requiring it to be seen as attractive. Not in the least. For me, a woman constantly requiring bailing out would get pretty tiresome, even in a fantasy world, after a while.And we'll always cheer a heroine who triumphs through her own abilities. A damsel in distress is not an object, until you expand the notion of object to encompass anyone merely spoken to.This confusion is one of the reasons I tend to prefer the word ""heroine" -- a lot less baggage, and a lot closer to the identification even I, as the fantasy villain, experience.
No, what makes her the Anti-Damsel is that her lack of compassion makes us unable to feel any compassion for her. She cannot see the difference between "empowerment" and "privilege." Her world, without her knowing it, is ultimately the most base, Hobbesian zero-sum culture imaginable. Who would even want to save her? Leave her tied to the tracks. I'm going to go
get a donut.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Got asked to do a book review
This will be a departure from the usual, so if you are interested in DiD and only in DiD narrowly, then this may not be your cuppa. I was asked by someone who noticed the blog (who knew?) if I reviewed BDSM books. I said not as a matter of course but I'd be willing to read a book called Laura Meets Jeffrey -- which is not even really a BDSM book in the first place, more what the publisher describes it as: an erotic memoir.
I'll post my draft review of the book below -- hey, it's new stuff, even if it isn't exactly on the Damsel/Villain/DiD theme. The book is interesting and a quick read. It's got a lot of graphic sex in it -- the author was a full participant in the orgies of Studio 54-era NYC. It isn't even particularly about a BDSM relationship except toward the end. So the interest in it is really from a social point of view -- the intersection of extreme lifestyles and the glitterati of pre-AIDS New York, as well as an inadvertently poignant tale of a relationship that is really kind of doomed from the start, although neither participant sees it. The narration is very much in the moment, so there is zero treacly sentimentality -- a plus in my view.
This was a new one for me: I do not read these kinds of books -- hell, I have never read Anais Nin! So although I liked the book, this is not "an endorsement from the author of In My Clutches" -- the book is too far off topic from the blog and the material is something I am nowhere near an expert in. But if you do read erotic memoirs, you might want to look into it. Anyway, here's the review:
I'll post my draft review of the book below -- hey, it's new stuff, even if it isn't exactly on the Damsel/Villain/DiD theme. The book is interesting and a quick read. It's got a lot of graphic sex in it -- the author was a full participant in the orgies of Studio 54-era NYC. It isn't even particularly about a BDSM relationship except toward the end. So the interest in it is really from a social point of view -- the intersection of extreme lifestyles and the glitterati of pre-AIDS New York, as well as an inadvertently poignant tale of a relationship that is really kind of doomed from the start, although neither participant sees it. The narration is very much in the moment, so there is zero treacly sentimentality -- a plus in my view.
This was a new one for me: I do not read these kinds of books -- hell, I have never read Anais Nin! So although I liked the book, this is not "an endorsement from the author of In My Clutches" -- the book is too far off topic from the blog and the material is something I am nowhere near an expert in. But if you do read erotic memoirs, you might want to look into it. Anyway, here's the review:
Review of Laura Meets Jeffrey
Laura Meets Jeffrey is a frank, no-holds-barred memoir of “swinging” life in pre-AIDS New York. It is also – by the end of it – an unexpectedly sweet and charmingly unlikely extended love letter from Jeffrey to his former love. It also is exactly what the second billing says: an erotic memoir, and as the author spent a lot of time in 1970s and early 1980s orgies in New York, that means a lot of very graphic sex. Unusually for memoirs, the book also contains several extended passages from Laura, giving her point of view of their relationship and activities. It’s nowhere near a 50/50 split, but that matters less than the presence of a distinct voice from the author’s, which makes this memoir more interesting.
LMJ was suggested to me because of my blog, which travels on the fringe of BDSM. That is the sole point of contact (and a tenuous one) between my life and that of Laura and Jeffrey. As a bitter and twisted Gen-Xer, I also generally have little patience for the blank hedonism of the 1960s or 70s. All of that makes me a harder sell on this book than one might think from my blog. But LMJ managed to keep me engaged all the way through – I was never bored, or repulsed, or otherwise provoked into judgment.
As for “what all the way through” means: oh boy, well, at the beginning, lots and lots of orgies, described in blunt and sometimes hilarious terms. For someone who is not turned on by porn, I did not find the multitude of sexual escapades tiresome or repetitive – no mean feat, as you get a lot of them in this book. While the descriptions of the swingers scene – the types of groups , the cast of characters, etc – do not reveal anything you don’t already know about these sorts of activities or the times, the author’s voice and genuine enthusiasm makes it immediate all over again. It takes a special, sometimes cock-eyed, view of the world to make what would be cliché new again. You may agree or disagree with Jeffrey’s point of view, but he never descends to nostalgia, not even at the end.
Laura takes a while to make her appearance in the book, and from then on both drugs and ever more extreme s/m behavior start slowly to take over. One can see the end, not just of their relationship (this, trust me, is not a big spoiler) but also of the whole culture of sexual licentiousness of pre-AIDS New York. Along the way we are also treated to digressions on Norman Mailer, Ryan O’Neal’s boxing, Yoko Ono and John Lennon, Jerzy Kozinski, and other luminati of the time. (I have to thank the author for rehabilitating Mailer for me – in the end, what a mensch!) This memoir implicitly asserts that the (to contemporary mores) extreme sexual New York culture before AIDs was by no means a sordid bubble of its own but brushed against high profile and even elite intellects and talents and was at least partially integrated into high society as a whole.
LMJ never succumbs to the retrospective realization that the party just has to end sometime. In the book the author mentions that Mailer suggested the book be called a novel rather than a memoir, and when you’re done with it you can see why. Part of its liveliness stems from the author’s insistence on trying to relive those times in the moment, without the knowledge of the future (ie now) that he obviously possesses. It means the future is unwritten, and for a memoir of this type that makes a huge difference in how it comes across.
That in-the-moment feel makes the narrative more compelling in light of the outcome of the story. As Laura demands more satisfaction of her masochistic desires as well as indulges in increasing amounts of cocaine, we feel the author’s lens shrink, the focus contract, until it really is just about the two of them – or to be more specific, about Jeffrey’s attempts to rein in what he sees as Laura’s more self-destructive tendencies. Here again, a superficial and ungenerous reading of this book might dismiss it as a story told many times – and it is – but it really is not just that. The painful breakdown is contrasted not just with a beautiful beginning – as would be the case in a typical love story – but against the author’s open-ended sexual practices of the beginning of the book. It might be an accident – part of Jeffrey’s offbeat charm is a blindness to his own future – but accident or not the narrowing of Jeffrey and Laura’s relationship should prove poignant to anyone with a modicum of decency and a willingness to suspend judgment a little bit. It’s the exact opposite of how relationships are supposed to grow – and it says a lot that Jeffrey ascribes this constriction solely to drugs, as opposed to a fundamental lacuna in the way he approached relationships (at least at that time). I felt myself rooting for both of them all the way through --because of this lack, not despite it – even though the outcome is never really in doubt.
This makes it sound like the relationship part of LMJ is just a train wreck. If it were only that, it would be depressing without being edifying. But it’s not. The author really does throw himself into the spirit and mentality of his own self at that time. Time and again, the honesty transcends the cliché. Laura, on the other hand, comes across as a little more detached from her life in the period described in the book. This is a good thing as she was, by her own admission, a near casualty to cocaine. Overall the effect is not really a “balanced” view of what turns into a BDSM relationship; the difference in tone, in intensity, in location in time between Jeffrey and Laura makes it all the more poignant. It says a lot about Jeffrey (and you can read this as good or bad, inclusive or narcissistic -- but I don’t see the point of judging) that his girlfriend ends up writing part of his own love letter to her. For what it’s worth, I think it’s the author’s genuine way of showing love. The great success of the book is allowing us to see that love on its own terms.
LMJ was suggested to me because of my blog, which travels on the fringe of BDSM. That is the sole point of contact (and a tenuous one) between my life and that of Laura and Jeffrey. As a bitter and twisted Gen-Xer, I also generally have little patience for the blank hedonism of the 1960s or 70s. All of that makes me a harder sell on this book than one might think from my blog. But LMJ managed to keep me engaged all the way through – I was never bored, or repulsed, or otherwise provoked into judgment.
As for “what all the way through” means: oh boy, well, at the beginning, lots and lots of orgies, described in blunt and sometimes hilarious terms. For someone who is not turned on by porn, I did not find the multitude of sexual escapades tiresome or repetitive – no mean feat, as you get a lot of them in this book. While the descriptions of the swingers scene – the types of groups , the cast of characters, etc – do not reveal anything you don’t already know about these sorts of activities or the times, the author’s voice and genuine enthusiasm makes it immediate all over again. It takes a special, sometimes cock-eyed, view of the world to make what would be cliché new again. You may agree or disagree with Jeffrey’s point of view, but he never descends to nostalgia, not even at the end.
Laura takes a while to make her appearance in the book, and from then on both drugs and ever more extreme s/m behavior start slowly to take over. One can see the end, not just of their relationship (this, trust me, is not a big spoiler) but also of the whole culture of sexual licentiousness of pre-AIDS New York. Along the way we are also treated to digressions on Norman Mailer, Ryan O’Neal’s boxing, Yoko Ono and John Lennon, Jerzy Kozinski, and other luminati of the time. (I have to thank the author for rehabilitating Mailer for me – in the end, what a mensch!) This memoir implicitly asserts that the (to contemporary mores) extreme sexual New York culture before AIDs was by no means a sordid bubble of its own but brushed against high profile and even elite intellects and talents and was at least partially integrated into high society as a whole.
LMJ never succumbs to the retrospective realization that the party just has to end sometime. In the book the author mentions that Mailer suggested the book be called a novel rather than a memoir, and when you’re done with it you can see why. Part of its liveliness stems from the author’s insistence on trying to relive those times in the moment, without the knowledge of the future (ie now) that he obviously possesses. It means the future is unwritten, and for a memoir of this type that makes a huge difference in how it comes across.
That in-the-moment feel makes the narrative more compelling in light of the outcome of the story. As Laura demands more satisfaction of her masochistic desires as well as indulges in increasing amounts of cocaine, we feel the author’s lens shrink, the focus contract, until it really is just about the two of them – or to be more specific, about Jeffrey’s attempts to rein in what he sees as Laura’s more self-destructive tendencies. Here again, a superficial and ungenerous reading of this book might dismiss it as a story told many times – and it is – but it really is not just that. The painful breakdown is contrasted not just with a beautiful beginning – as would be the case in a typical love story – but against the author’s open-ended sexual practices of the beginning of the book. It might be an accident – part of Jeffrey’s offbeat charm is a blindness to his own future – but accident or not the narrowing of Jeffrey and Laura’s relationship should prove poignant to anyone with a modicum of decency and a willingness to suspend judgment a little bit. It’s the exact opposite of how relationships are supposed to grow – and it says a lot that Jeffrey ascribes this constriction solely to drugs, as opposed to a fundamental lacuna in the way he approached relationships (at least at that time). I felt myself rooting for both of them all the way through --because of this lack, not despite it – even though the outcome is never really in doubt.
This makes it sound like the relationship part of LMJ is just a train wreck. If it were only that, it would be depressing without being edifying. But it’s not. The author really does throw himself into the spirit and mentality of his own self at that time. Time and again, the honesty transcends the cliché. Laura, on the other hand, comes across as a little more detached from her life in the period described in the book. This is a good thing as she was, by her own admission, a near casualty to cocaine. Overall the effect is not really a “balanced” view of what turns into a BDSM relationship; the difference in tone, in intensity, in location in time between Jeffrey and Laura makes it all the more poignant. It says a lot about Jeffrey (and you can read this as good or bad, inclusive or narcissistic -- but I don’t see the point of judging) that his girlfriend ends up writing part of his own love letter to her. For what it’s worth, I think it’s the author’s genuine way of showing love. The great success of the book is allowing us to see that love on its own terms.
Monday, September 3, 2012
I was living in a black and white world, part 2....
… only 2 years after part 1.
Once again, and I don’t quite know why, I got it into my head to find a particular silent peril scene – one I recall seeing a still from in an out of print book on silent cliffhanger serials. The scene was of a very young, pre-“glass” period Harold Lloyd, in his Lonesome Luke character, trying to extricate a girl tied to a log heading for a buzzsaw. Well, searching Harold Lloyd and Lonesome Luke didn’t work, so I wracked my memory to think of the name of the actress playing the damsel, and I thought it was Bebe Daniels.
Well, I was sort of right, in that Bebe Daniels certainly did act opposite Lloyd in several Lonesome Luke shorts. But I am no closer to determining which short film the scene comes from , let alone a clip from it.
However, that led me to looking up Bebe Daniels. Oh my goodness – no wonder she was a star. Born in Texas to a US diplomat father and an Argentine mother, Bebe to me looked better than most of the other stars of the period – certainly her film persona came across as a lot less overt than, say, Clara Bow, but to me a lot more alluring. Like all of the enduring stars of the period, she has a presence that transcends the gulf of very different conventions of glamour of the silent period and today. She looks uncannily like someone I know, in fact!
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Willpower, seduction and wit
I believe it wise upfront in this entry to emphasize that I am only speaking for my own experiences up to this point.
I think the dividing line between truly submissive people and those who like to roleplay (physically) weak or easily intimidated characters is their attitude toward willpower.
A recent conversation made me think about this. Roleplay games with this particular friend have a wide range of outcomes, but she herself tends to play characters who are fairly easily captured and imperiled, so much so that one might come to the erroneous conclusion that she is a classic "submissive" personality. She does not think of herself that way, and I don't think she is either.
What struck me recently was her characterization of her pleading with me to let her go as a battle of wills with me, the villain. And, full disclosure, she has moved even a hardened chestnut of a fiendish cad like me to let her go in an RP or two.
Now, what I found fascinating was her choice of words for how she got me to release her: not persuasion, not seduction, but a battle of wills. And I thought: you know, she's absolutely right!
I think this aspect unifies pretty much every woman I RP with (admittedly a very small group). None of them are submissive (and this is not at all a knock on you if you consider yourself one -- I am merely relating my experience, not placing a judgment of any kind). All of them are engaged in some sort of contest, in very varied ways, with very different means, but all of them utterly, utterly feminine (sorry, having a Goethe moment here), whether demure or fiery, fearful or fighting.
Even in the two exceptions to a battle of wills that I can think of, there is still a fundamental power sharing: One such exception is someone with fantasies of being sold into white slavery and humiliated en route. I don't normally do that kind of RP but she has charmed me with her exuberant sense of humour and reassured me with her even-headedness to indulge her. Even in her case she resists her abductor and is defiant. And I crack up every time with her spontaneous wit (before I gag her) as gloating villain and captured damsel trade insults. Even in the case of a girl who jokingly will wait by the railroad tracks waiting to be pounced on, her sarcastic wit and offbeat but utterly original plot ideas drive at least 50% of the RP action (as well as keep me both riveted and amused.)
And I am sure that such willpower, however it is expressed (and it can take very sly forms), is what keeps me keen, whether the heroine is able or incapable of escaping. The heroine has to be able to "win" -- however defined. Not that she'll have an easy time of it. Odd that the power struggle really begins after the heroine is captured and placed in a trap, not before.
I think the dividing line between truly submissive people and those who like to roleplay (physically) weak or easily intimidated characters is their attitude toward willpower.
A recent conversation made me think about this. Roleplay games with this particular friend have a wide range of outcomes, but she herself tends to play characters who are fairly easily captured and imperiled, so much so that one might come to the erroneous conclusion that she is a classic "submissive" personality. She does not think of herself that way, and I don't think she is either.
What struck me recently was her characterization of her pleading with me to let her go as a battle of wills with me, the villain. And, full disclosure, she has moved even a hardened chestnut of a fiendish cad like me to let her go in an RP or two.
Now, what I found fascinating was her choice of words for how she got me to release her: not persuasion, not seduction, but a battle of wills. And I thought: you know, she's absolutely right!
I think this aspect unifies pretty much every woman I RP with (admittedly a very small group). None of them are submissive (and this is not at all a knock on you if you consider yourself one -- I am merely relating my experience, not placing a judgment of any kind). All of them are engaged in some sort of contest, in very varied ways, with very different means, but all of them utterly, utterly feminine (sorry, having a Goethe moment here), whether demure or fiery, fearful or fighting.
Even in the two exceptions to a battle of wills that I can think of, there is still a fundamental power sharing: One such exception is someone with fantasies of being sold into white slavery and humiliated en route. I don't normally do that kind of RP but she has charmed me with her exuberant sense of humour and reassured me with her even-headedness to indulge her. Even in her case she resists her abductor and is defiant. And I crack up every time with her spontaneous wit (before I gag her) as gloating villain and captured damsel trade insults. Even in the case of a girl who jokingly will wait by the railroad tracks waiting to be pounced on, her sarcastic wit and offbeat but utterly original plot ideas drive at least 50% of the RP action (as well as keep me both riveted and amused.)
And I am sure that such willpower, however it is expressed (and it can take very sly forms), is what keeps me keen, whether the heroine is able or incapable of escaping. The heroine has to be able to "win" -- however defined. Not that she'll have an easy time of it. Odd that the power struggle really begins after the heroine is captured and placed in a trap, not before.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Elaborate captures
[Ed Note: This is an old blog entry re-run -- the exhbits mentioned are long gone, sadly...]
Before I start I should mention to anyone in the DC area that you should run, not walk, to the National Gallery, for it has currently not one but two stupendous special exhibits on – the first being a masterful collection of Rembrandt prints, including the only known intact plate of any of his prints. The other is a side-by-side exhibit of each of Constable’s “six-footers” and the oil sketches for each. I am not a great fan of Constable, but this left me far more impressed with him. I also, by the way, had a chance to make a special pilgrimage to one of my favourite paintings, Sargent’s Repose (Nonchaloir). She and I had a moment alone in Gallery 70…..OK, back to our show.
I like to emphasize all three words in the phrase “damsel in distress.” The distress part, that’s pretty obvious. Ingenuity in the peril is very important, of course. As for “damsel” – also pretty obvious. The star of the show. I have harped ad nauseum in this blog about how important the damsel herself is, how she makes or breaks the peril – not her technique at roleplay, as enjoyable as that can be at this end, but how much her essence inspires my “villainy.”
But that little word in the middle, “in” – for me that encapsulates all the details and embellishments that, for me, complete a peril scenario. It stands for all those elusive things called “mise en scene” in the movies, and more.
I threatened to write about elaborate captures recently, and the more I started to look things over (those RPs I can recall, or stories I have saved) I realized this was about more than just ingenuity. I am sure there are plenty of more ingenious villains out there, with more elaborate traps or more creative ways to bind or threaten a damsel. I certainly won’t try to claim first prize there, even if that were my style.
But I do work hard whenever I get the chance on atmosphere, and that I think means not just the technical aspects of a peril, although I do try to make a peril as gruesomely realistic as possible. No, atmosphere means unusual locations, weird and specific villains and henchmen, fashion for the damsel, historical period at times, time of day and light quality. The idea is to create a movie, or a painting if you will (literally, in one adventure).
In the course of setting the stage, I find that unusual bonds, positions, gags, and even perils come to me. I am guessing that this is not the way it usually works: I am under the impression that most villains think of the peril first, then build a scene around it, leading up to it.
Well, I sometimes do that, but more often, it’s the other way around. Usually, it works more like: “I saw a picture in a magazine the other day, mmm, I bet damsel X would like that place (or that dress, or that colour, whatever), hmmm, how could she fall into a trap in that setting/outfit/time period? OK, if she is caught doing Y, what is the most logical way to dispose of her?”
One direct and linear example of this was a quasi-challenge (publicly posted, so no prizes for guessing who) to come up with a suffragette peril. So I thought, hmmm, turn of the century, the Industrial Age, voting machines…..eureka! I “lured” her into the back of a newfangled voting machine where she, not a ballot, would be punctured to death. And I refrained from any hanging chad jokes!
Anyway, I thought I would list a few special captures, settings, and bonds and gags I have come up with. I will jot down more as they come to me, but here, delivered courtesy of my random access brain, is a sample. I am leaving out the tours-de-force (example, I set a peril in the reign of Byzantine Emperor Phocas just to see if I could do it. The peril was a grisly one, involving blinding by vinegar, that was about 80% historically accurate.)
Spun Sugar: I think I mentioned the confectionary peril in my “baroque” entry. Well, the damsel in question was bound by being held fast as several pastry chefs glopped molten spun sugar over her wrists and ankles until it cooled and hardened to the consistency of quartz. I think I gagged her with sugar, too. Well, she was literally as well as figuratively a sweetie…
Fun with Maxwell’s Laws: Superheroines are always fun to take down. I recall one, who had rather formidable electrical powers, including the ability to hurl lightning bolts, who was trapped by her very own powers: a special metallic floor to generate enough magnetic conductance to “glue” her feet to the floor. The overconfident superheroine tries to blast her way free, not realizing that there is a lightning rod in the room that attracts her bolts and completely drains her of her special powers. After that, subduing her was trivial. I think I planned to lower her into a vat of bubblegum (the villainess in this one was all pink.)
Don’t trust chippies: In a long and sexy scene, a magician’s assistant was trapped for a nasty interrogation by being cuffed inside a cabinet used for the “disappearing lady” trick. She manages to trigger the release, and falls through a trap door. She runs, only to be swiftly recaptured by carpenter minions of the magician villain, who menaces her with the old “lady sawn in half” trick, and then suspended, tied up over the water tank that I conveniently filled not with water, but with acid. The twist was her gag: since carpenters had caught her, I hit upon the idea of gagging her with a wooden dowel rod between her teeth, the rod being taped into place with two long strips of black electrical tape in the shape of an X over her lips.
It’s for a good cause: I think what took the cake was the elaborate ruse used to lure a heroine to a special charity ball. For this I had to invent a whole world, including the character’s fictional friends and adversaries, to attend the event with her. In fact, the way it was set up, she did not even know who the “bad guy” really was until well into the adventure.
These little synopses really pale for me compared to the actual adventures, but I want to keep the latter as gifts for the heroines they were written for (or participated in, in the case of RPs). But I think in this case, to give you some flavour, I will post the “invitation.” Before we even had started this RP, I sent her this:
RSVP Black Tie
Anyway, the heroine got to pick out her own gown, and we spent a good long time (by her choice) just having her deal with “real life” before the “heroine adventure” itself started. She was completely thrown into a social setting way out of her depth, and had to sink or swim in it before we even got to her first diabolical trap.
This is something I seldom try until a get to know someone very well. Once a damsel knows that she is doomed to capture and peril, then I enjoy just playing with her, keeping her in suspense as to exactly how she will be blindsided, tricked, or ambushed.
In this case, she was invited to a special tour of the mansion. I used her own curiosity in her character’s professional field against her, then seduced her in the wine cellar, then wheedled her into trying out a new neurological device. Funny how those always involve reclining chairs with manacles on the arms. Once I had her in those, the arc of the evening changed a bit….
Well, as I come up with other recollections I will add them in.
Before I start I should mention to anyone in the DC area that you should run, not walk, to the National Gallery, for it has currently not one but two stupendous special exhibits on – the first being a masterful collection of Rembrandt prints, including the only known intact plate of any of his prints. The other is a side-by-side exhibit of each of Constable’s “six-footers” and the oil sketches for each. I am not a great fan of Constable, but this left me far more impressed with him. I also, by the way, had a chance to make a special pilgrimage to one of my favourite paintings, Sargent’s Repose (Nonchaloir). She and I had a moment alone in Gallery 70…..OK, back to our show.
I like to emphasize all three words in the phrase “damsel in distress.” The distress part, that’s pretty obvious. Ingenuity in the peril is very important, of course. As for “damsel” – also pretty obvious. The star of the show. I have harped ad nauseum in this blog about how important the damsel herself is, how she makes or breaks the peril – not her technique at roleplay, as enjoyable as that can be at this end, but how much her essence inspires my “villainy.”
But that little word in the middle, “in” – for me that encapsulates all the details and embellishments that, for me, complete a peril scenario. It stands for all those elusive things called “mise en scene” in the movies, and more.
I threatened to write about elaborate captures recently, and the more I started to look things over (those RPs I can recall, or stories I have saved) I realized this was about more than just ingenuity. I am sure there are plenty of more ingenious villains out there, with more elaborate traps or more creative ways to bind or threaten a damsel. I certainly won’t try to claim first prize there, even if that were my style.
But I do work hard whenever I get the chance on atmosphere, and that I think means not just the technical aspects of a peril, although I do try to make a peril as gruesomely realistic as possible. No, atmosphere means unusual locations, weird and specific villains and henchmen, fashion for the damsel, historical period at times, time of day and light quality. The idea is to create a movie, or a painting if you will (literally, in one adventure).
In the course of setting the stage, I find that unusual bonds, positions, gags, and even perils come to me. I am guessing that this is not the way it usually works: I am under the impression that most villains think of the peril first, then build a scene around it, leading up to it.
Well, I sometimes do that, but more often, it’s the other way around. Usually, it works more like: “I saw a picture in a magazine the other day, mmm, I bet damsel X would like that place (or that dress, or that colour, whatever), hmmm, how could she fall into a trap in that setting/outfit/time period? OK, if she is caught doing Y, what is the most logical way to dispose of her?”
One direct and linear example of this was a quasi-challenge (publicly posted, so no prizes for guessing who) to come up with a suffragette peril. So I thought, hmmm, turn of the century, the Industrial Age, voting machines…..eureka! I “lured” her into the back of a newfangled voting machine where she, not a ballot, would be punctured to death. And I refrained from any hanging chad jokes!
Anyway, I thought I would list a few special captures, settings, and bonds and gags I have come up with. I will jot down more as they come to me, but here, delivered courtesy of my random access brain, is a sample. I am leaving out the tours-de-force (example, I set a peril in the reign of Byzantine Emperor Phocas just to see if I could do it. The peril was a grisly one, involving blinding by vinegar, that was about 80% historically accurate.)
Spun Sugar: I think I mentioned the confectionary peril in my “baroque” entry. Well, the damsel in question was bound by being held fast as several pastry chefs glopped molten spun sugar over her wrists and ankles until it cooled and hardened to the consistency of quartz. I think I gagged her with sugar, too. Well, she was literally as well as figuratively a sweetie…
Fun with Maxwell’s Laws: Superheroines are always fun to take down. I recall one, who had rather formidable electrical powers, including the ability to hurl lightning bolts, who was trapped by her very own powers: a special metallic floor to generate enough magnetic conductance to “glue” her feet to the floor. The overconfident superheroine tries to blast her way free, not realizing that there is a lightning rod in the room that attracts her bolts and completely drains her of her special powers. After that, subduing her was trivial. I think I planned to lower her into a vat of bubblegum (the villainess in this one was all pink.)
Don’t trust chippies: In a long and sexy scene, a magician’s assistant was trapped for a nasty interrogation by being cuffed inside a cabinet used for the “disappearing lady” trick. She manages to trigger the release, and falls through a trap door. She runs, only to be swiftly recaptured by carpenter minions of the magician villain, who menaces her with the old “lady sawn in half” trick, and then suspended, tied up over the water tank that I conveniently filled not with water, but with acid. The twist was her gag: since carpenters had caught her, I hit upon the idea of gagging her with a wooden dowel rod between her teeth, the rod being taped into place with two long strips of black electrical tape in the shape of an X over her lips.
It’s for a good cause: I think what took the cake was the elaborate ruse used to lure a heroine to a special charity ball. For this I had to invent a whole world, including the character’s fictional friends and adversaries, to attend the event with her. In fact, the way it was set up, she did not even know who the “bad guy” really was until well into the adventure.
These little synopses really pale for me compared to the actual adventures, but I want to keep the latter as gifts for the heroines they were written for (or participated in, in the case of RPs). But I think in this case, to give you some flavour, I will post the “invitation.” Before we even had started this RP, I sent her this:
The pleasure of your company
is requested for
is requested for
cocktails and reception
for the benefit of
the Arkham Institute for Psychopathology
Tuesday, 29 November 2005 at 8 o’clock
Ravenscrag
West Point, NY
RSVP Black Tie
Anyway, the heroine got to pick out her own gown, and we spent a good long time (by her choice) just having her deal with “real life” before the “heroine adventure” itself started. She was completely thrown into a social setting way out of her depth, and had to sink or swim in it before we even got to her first diabolical trap.
This is something I seldom try until a get to know someone very well. Once a damsel knows that she is doomed to capture and peril, then I enjoy just playing with her, keeping her in suspense as to exactly how she will be blindsided, tricked, or ambushed.
In this case, she was invited to a special tour of the mansion. I used her own curiosity in her character’s professional field against her, then seduced her in the wine cellar, then wheedled her into trying out a new neurological device. Funny how those always involve reclining chairs with manacles on the arms. Once I had her in those, the arc of the evening changed a bit….
Well, as I come up with other recollections I will add them in.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
A taste for the baroque
Anyone who has read my stories or RPed with me knows that I don’t have a lot of obsessive traits when it comes to particular elements of a peril theme. In other words, it’s not like a heroine must be attired a certain way, or must be tied up in a particular position, say any particular thing, etc. I have my preferences which are easily garnered (in case you care) in the public stories I have posted in the Yahoo Group called Peril Place. But the damsel always comes first: I am always willing to yield to her choices on these things.
That said, I do have a taste for the baroque in terms of the peril environment. That can mean either a wildly over-elaborate trap (my early corruption by Batman reruns and by Roadrunner cartoons, I guess). But it can also mean a very exotic locale that turns a clichéd peril into something special, at least for me.
So I thought I might, just for kicks, highlight a few perils that have especially tickled me for their excesses. This is not quite the same list as my all-time favourites, although there is overlap, because my all-time faves list is determined by other elements, including the heroine’s reaction (or participation, in the case of RPs), the overall quality of my writing, and, frankly, the heroine herself, regardless of the peril. This list takes out that last, critical, all-important consideration.
Ice floe peril: This is one I did for a story called “Union Busters” in the Peril Place group. In this story I had three damsels to imperil, so what better thing for a villain to do but out them in a situation where one would have to perish to save the others, or at least give them a little more time.
I had the three lovelies tied up and placed on a large flat disc of ice that in turn was placed in a warm swimming pool. A swarm of ravenous hammerhead sharks swam underneath, making it impossible for them to paddle their way to one of the sides of the pool without being munched on. Not that they could have done it tied up as they were. As the ice floe melted, it shrank, slowly reducing the area they had to sit upon until it could no longer bear three of them. Who would go into the water first? Second? Third?
Judgment machine: This was part of a wildly elaborate role play story that consistently wiped me out (in a good way). It helped that my partner really got into the story. She also really was affected (so she told me) by the name I gave this peril – especially since she was told the name before she actually got to see what it was. The weirdness of this particular villain was his belief that the world needed to be judged and purified in some sort of apocalyptic moment (I simplify the very intricate amd bizarre Gnostic cosmology of this villain). So this peril fit in with his general imperative of re-absorption into the Infinite.
The “judgment machine” was a huge steel balance scale, like what medieval apothecaries or goldsmiths would have used to weigh things. Heroine on one side, the other slowly filling with sand. As the sand weighed more heavily, the damsel side of the scales would rise, until the top of the scale touches an electrode hooked up to a large power generator. Zap! Fried damsel. She was of course quite tightly tied when she was seated on her side of the scale, but were she to get any silly ideas of jumping off her side of the scale, the entire machine was surrounded by a pool of hydrochloric acid. It sounds very odd and arbitrary out of context, but it fit with the general theme of the story.
Cake peril: In this peril, the damsel had been bound and gagged after being captured in an industrial kitchen serving a caterer. She was then placed in a large metal mould, immersed up to her neck in cake batter. The cake tray was set on a conveyor belt to take her slowly into an oven to bake her into the afterlife.
This was a rare time I really enjoyed the messiness of the peril – usually, I don’t like to mess up a damsel’s clothes, and I like to “see” them struggle. But this one was delicious both literally and figuratively. And I have a great weakness for cake. Red velvet especially -- made by a real Southerner only, please! Reasons supplied upon request.
Old Glory: In this one, the heroine was tied with threads that were sewn into a large tarpaulin stretched out on a metal frame. Above the frame, a huge, sharp contraption looking like the needle of an old sewing machine (only much much larger) was moving on gimbels and gears of criss-crossing beams above. The giant sewing needle was pre- programmed to sew the stars and stripes of the American flag (this might have worked even better with a Union Jack, but the heroine was American and Old Glory just worked better in terms of the whole set up in this case).
So our heroine was trapped, watching nervously as the deadly sharp sewing needle moved back and forth, getting closer as it stitched and stiched, relentlessly until it pierced her…. Oh yes, I also made the pre-programming random, so that the machine would sew some blue, then lift, then swoop down somewhere else and sew some red, so that the trapped heroine had no idea of when the lethal strike would come.
The Fairy Feller’s Master Stroke: The actual peril in this was rather straightforward – our heroine was tied down and looking up at an executioner with an axe about to decapitate her. What made it a recent favourite of mine was the weird departure I took in the setting.
Long story short, the damsel in this story is being sucked into the world of various famous or notorious paintings. This peril took place inside a canvas called The Fairy Feller’s Master Stroke, by Richard Dadd.
Dadd had a psychotic break, killed his parents, and then spent the rest of his days in an asylum where he continued to paint. One of his “insane” paintings was this flat but very busy – in a word, typically schizophrenic -- scene which I’d post if I weren’t worried I might get zapped for some ill-defined, unspecified, and retroactive TOS violation. You can google it easily enough. Tiny sprites in a variety of quaint clothes are cavorting under giant flowers, toadstools, grass, etc. A comparatively tall sprite with his back to the viewer is holding up a large two headed axe near a white mushroom.
So I had the damsel turned into a fairy with gossamer wings (how she got there was quite baroque as well, but I digress. Again). When she tried to fly away to escape I had the small boy fairies in the painting lasso her with bilboquet strings. She was then tied down to the mushroom cap as if on a table, and – I really enjoyed this little twist – I made the axe man the homicidal artist himself, Richard Dadd. He...well, he was not very talkative, let’s put it that way.
Sea Cave: In this episode of a long story, the heroine was a Nancy Drew type character who had been captured by smugglers and taken to a secret cove by some low New England cliffs. There, she had been tied up and gagged, with a heavy weight attached to her bound wrists. She was placed in a small rowboat that had been anchored inside the little cave. Now, the tide was coming in. The cave flooded at high tide, and the anchor line for the boat was set up deliberately too short, so that the boat would rise with the water for a while, then get stuck as the water rose up to match the length of the line. Then the water would slowly rise up the sides of the small rowboat, until seawater poured over the sies of the boat, sinking it. The dead weight the damsel was tied to meant that even the best swimmer in the world could not escape by hoping to swim to safety, weighed down and tied up. Oh, yes, and as the water rolled in, the cave got darker….
Death of a thousand cuts: I have done plenty of variations of this recipe. Ingredients: One (1) fetching damsel. One (1) long table. One (1) large pane of glass, suspended several feet above table. One (1) shotgun. One (1) kettle. Tape. String. Plenty of rope. Nice silk scarf from some place like Ferragamo or Hermes (if a girl has to die, she’s going to go in style).
Lure damsel into dank, leak-ridden warehouse. Ambush damsel. Tie damsel with rope. Tie her to table, face up to look at the glass, suspended above her. Tape shotgun to pillar so that barrel is aimed at centre of glass pane. Attach string to trigger with care, and lay other end of string over convenient horizontal beam. Tie remaining end of string to kettle handle, conveniently placing open kettle under drip of old warehouse roof. Explain to damsel that the leak will fill the kettle until it is heavy enough to pull the trigger of the shotgun, which will blast the glass pane into shards, which will fall and dice damsel into pieces. Cackle maniacally. Allow her her moment of panic, defiance, pleading, as she sees fit. Be sure to laugh at any vows, threats, or bluffs damsel may utter. Then gag damsel with silk scarf. If damsel struggles, invite her to “Go ahead, struggle all you want.” Remind damsel that trap is foolproof. Cackle again. If time and funds permit, set up close captioned TV so that you can watch from a convenient location, champagne glass in hand. Cheers!
Marionette: I have done a few variations on this theme, but it usually gets a good reaction from damsels, who like the involuntary nature of the movement involved. (Parenthetic note: it has really surprised me how common the theme of mind control is among the women I have talked to in a DiD context. Brainwashing scenarios, hypnosis, spiritual possession – these are more widespread than I would have thought. What follows goes a down a similar road.) Damsel is tied up like a puppet, with some sort of mechanism allowing the villain (or a machine) to force her to step or move as he (or it) wishes. Usually the damsel is forced to take steps toward her doom, like to the edge of a flaming pit, or some such.
In one memorable variation of this theme, our heroine was a ballerina who had been captured, knocked out, and tied up in one such marionette apparatus. She awakes in mid-jump, her body frozen in a mid-air dozens of feet above the stage and suspended in a grand jete by puppet strings. The villain manipulates her body into a sequence of ballet moves utterly impossible without strings attached before threatening to dash her to pieces on the hard stage waaaaay below her. (The actual peril was more particular and involved than this, but that part was really designed for one damsel in particular and I’d rather not share it, although I really thought it was a bit of inspired creativity on my part.)
Giant Kite: Not original, but still fun. I had a superheroine character captured and bound in crucifixion position to the wooden cross that formed the “backbone” of a giant kite. She was lifted waaaaay up into the air as menacing stratocumulus clouds announced an approaching electrical storm…. This was fun in that I had the kite swerving and turning giddly in the air thousands of feet up, really creating a wild ride for the beleaguered heroine.
Perhaps I should also write up some of my more exotic capture methods in an entry – I put as much effort into captures as perils sometimes, if the scenario warrants it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
