Am I blogging...or am I pitching my existence?
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| High Concept Am I blogging...or am I pitching my existence? |
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Monday, November 28, 2005 The Pitch: It's like Battlestar Galactica! Meets Alan Moore! Okay, so I woke up at two a.m. last night from a very long dream in which I was reading a comic book adaptation of Battlestar Galactica written by Alan Moore. And it was rad!I doubt I'll be able to do it any justice whatsover and may have to stop writing any minute (since I'm at work and stuff) and, to be frank, the more I think about the comic, the less rad and the more, um, disturbing it seems, but nonetheless: So Alan Moore is hired to write this Battlestar Galactica comic and the first issue is, basically, all about Alan Moore being hired to write this Battlestar Galactica comic. The first thing he does is insist on complete and utter creative control which the editors grant him because he's, like, Alan Moore and stuff. The second thing he does is write himself into the storyline with this first issue. Because what he reveals to the editors of the book is that, as he and only a handful of people know, the Battlestar was wiped out before it reached Earth, the Cylons found Earth and took over, and then wiped the memory of their previous lives from themselves in order to fit in. Indeed, the end of the first issue shows everyone reading this first issue of Battlestar Galactica and realizing that they are, in fact, Cylons. End of issue one. Issue two of Battlestar Galactica (as written by Alan Moore) takes place three years after the first issue of Battlestar Galactica, and in it, Alan Moore is merely one cylon (albeit a sleeveless cylon) among a planet of now-awakened cylons who, realizing that all cylons are equal, have ceased oppressing one another and have created an ideal governmentless state where all live in happy and unity under the (one) eye of their (one) true Lord. Because everyone realizes they are really carefully crafted robots, they have begun cybernetically altering themselves, and so there are people that look like the robotic equivalents of Greek monsters--there's a cylon equivalent of a centaur, for example, whose bottom half is some sort of small tank, or a medusa, who is a human looking woman with flowing, curling fiber-optic cables for hair. In this brave new world (and here's where it gets weird), Alan Moore basically runs around and has sex with these half-human/half-tank cylon chicks, doing them from behind and at the crucial moment, implanting a hidden tech virus in them. And here's where we learn the craftiness of Alan Moore: this virus is implanting a rebellion virus in each of the cylons that he has sex with (and he is able to have sex with many, since he's the guy who freed cylonhood from their forgotten humanity) which they will go on to plant in all of the cylons they have sex with, and soon Alan Moore will be able have enough cylons under his control that he can stage a massive revolt which he compares to the War In Heaven. And so (and the extra layer of meaning will make sense to old school Battlestar fans), Alan Moore is essentially Lucifer, making plans to become the leader of Cylon Hell, which he will travel to in--ta-dah!--the newly restored Battlestar Galactica. End of issue two. Then I woke up, so there is no issue three. The most alarming thing about all this (for me, anyway--my wife, who is probably reading this and trying to figure out how to have me committed, would likely have a different opinion) is that in my waking life I'm forty-five thousand words into a novel that's degenerated to two guys in a kitchen making tea and trying to figure out what their real life Dungeons and Dragons stats would be. Or maybe the most alarming thing is that I'm thirty-nine and not fourteen. I can't decide. posted by Jeff Lester | 8:31 AM | |
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