Saturday, March 23, 2013

Change of Protocol "part 2"

 Change of Protocol
Tobias White

Despite the fact the new ritual stated that the Witching Hour did indeed account for
daylight savings, Henry wasn’t so sure if it also accounted for different times zones, so once
again he waited until it was 1am before starting. As beads of sweat formed on his forehead,
Henry nervously knelt down in the center of the triangle of protection, not liking that the
protection diagram was centered in the summoning circle. With his arms outstretched in
supplication, Henry began the new incantation, “Iä, Iä, Parallax Fhtagn — the forms have been
met — Iä, Iä mass tu vita — the time has been allotted — Iä, Iä mass tu vita — the service is
required — Iä, Iä, Parallax Fhtagn — I petition you — I requisition you — I contract you
Parallax appear” . . . nothing happened, Henry became confused, but then his eyes lit up and he
said, “Oh ya, — Ticket 42!”

Henry’s eyes widened and his hair stood up on end as he felt the room charge with heavy
static and filled with the smell of ozone. Arcs of blue white energy crackled the air as it
randomly traveled out from the arcane circle to the walls of the room, but would linger now and
then on metallic objects. Henry felt a phantom breeze which transformed into a maelstrom with
the arcane circle as its vortex. The maelstrom created a rushing wall of Henry’s papers and
books which in turn obscured the rest of the room. After what seemed like an eternity from
within his whirlwind prison of literature, the wind abruptly stopped, the books fell with broken
spines, and like leaves in autumn, all of his loose research papers slowly drifted down; what was
revealed, was shocking.

Henry, while still kneeling within his diagrams, found himself no longer in his apartment,
but in what looked like a dimly lit, musty and peculiar looking office. There were no windows to
be seen, but on the walls were hundreds of pretentiously framed documents and portraits. The
walls seem to be a combination of stonework and hard wood but it was hard to tell as it was
covered with soot from years of smoking and neglect. The towering walls led up to a vaulted
ceiling that sported brass lamps at its summit. Up against the left-hand wall was a couch
upholstered in expensive dark leather. Along the right-hand wall were rows upon rows of giant
filing cabinets, each standing forty feet high. Above and below these cabinets were rails, on
which, a wheeled ladder would glide upon; . . . it all smelled very republican. From behind,
Henry heard a loud tick, a rusty crank, and then an echoing stamp. Henry looked behind him to
see a door that opened up to a hallway perpendicular to the office. In this hallway, he saw an
antique punch clock, at which, aged time cards were continuously being punched by a cue of
zombies dressed in tattered business suits. Henry exclaimed, “Well I’ll be damned — ” and then
an antediluvian voice, old, dry, slightly nasal and with an odd accent was a reply,
“Not quite yet Mr. Beechcroft . . . not quite yet.”

Henry whipped around to be surprised by a figure at the opposite end of the room —
which was strange . . . no one had been there a few seconds ago and there was only one door to
the office. Up on a two-foot high platform was a cluttered business desk that was a perfectly
normal size and shape. Sitting cramped and crouched over this desk was a perfectly normal
looking old mouse like man. He sported perfectly normal coke bottle glasses, a striped long
sleeved shirt, old world shirt armbands, a vest that hung open with a gut that would prevent it
from ever closing, a comb-over of thinning hair and a look that spoke that he had been defeated
by life. Well, he would have been perfectly normal if it were not for one simple fact . . . he was a

On the giant’s desk, in the clutter, was a name plate that read: M.C. 2nd Class Parallax
Esquire. Parallax was indeed the name of the demon he was trying to contact, but this was all
wrong; he was trying to summon Parallax to his apartment . . . not to be summoned to . . . to
wherever this was. With a nervous delay Henry spoke up, “Um, excuse me? With all due respect,
I — I think there has been some kind of mistake here.” On the other side of Parallax and along
the back of the wall was a complex system of pneumatic tubes that all funneled into either an
“in” or “out” substation which was just in arms reach of Parallax. One of the tubes vibrated
furiously as a shuttle descended down its intricate path and then stopping at the “in” substation.
Parallax plucked out the shuttle tube, opened it up, rolled out a parchment, made a few tick marks
with a long, clawed, and liver-spotted hand. Without lifting his gaze, Parallax said, “There has
been no mistake Mr. Beechcroft. Didn’t you get the memo? — There has been a change in

“Oh . . . I see — ” said Henry confusedly as Parallax made a few more tick marks, signed
the bottom, released the scroll, which then promptly bounced off the desk and back into the
shuttle tube. Parallax placed the shuttle into the “out” substation and this time turned to Henry,
while smiling just a little too broadly, said, “Oh — you see huh?” Parallax turned back to his
paper work and then said impatiently, “So, Mr. Beechcroft . . . what kind of service can we
provide you . . . hmm?” The shuttle in the “out” station vibrated vigorously then shot up the
pneumatic tube while another one shot down to the “out” station. Parallax continued, “Will it be
for power, for glory, perhaps — a woman — for revenge maybe . . . or would it just be for a
change in gender? As it seems you are already a little pussy to begin with! Hurry up Beechcroft
— my time is precious and you are wasting it!” Parallax snatched another shuttle from his “in”
substation, whipped out its contents, snorted at what he read, laughed out loud which caused ram
horns to sprout from his head, looked at Henry, smiled like a shark with far too many teeth and
laughingly said, “Man, I just love those Gary Larson comics, don’t you?”

Nervously Henry said, “Ah . . . yes — yes I do, he is very funny. Um — It — it was the
second to — to the — last one I wanted.” Pretending to mishear and with a smile Parallax
replied, “Huh, the last one? — Bob, get the number nine scalpel.”An imp wearing a green visor, a
vest and spats but no shoes jumped out of Parallax’s desk, scampered over to the ladder and
rapidly searched the file cabinets while scattering an assortment of odds and ends on the floor
when a cabinet drawer failed to have the scalpel. Henry’s eyes widened in horror and quickly
said, “No — no I meant — the second to last one — you know the — the revenge one!” With
great disappointment the imp returned to the desk drawer, but just before disappearing into the
drawer the imp stuck out his tongue and gave Henry the raspberry.
With a sigh, Parallax withdrew three parchments from a shelf and said, “Very well Mr.
Beechcroft. We have three different contracts for you to choose from. The first is the standard
contract for your soul in which we will handle all the details, no fuss or muss, quick, clean, easy,
and without a trace. The second requires you to murder a virgin woman for every three acts of
revenge, but we handle all details and with the same great coverage. The third is rather banal if
you ask me, but it only requires you to perform little deeds of anarchy on our behalf now and
then, but while the results are guaranteed, satisfaction is not. It has almost no coverage at all.”
Nervously and a bit agitated Henry said, “I think I will go for the third contract.” Parallax leaned
really close and said, “Are you sure — that you don’t want to consider the first or the second?”
“Yes — yes I am sure. I have never killed anyone before, which is why I performed the
summoning and I think it is wise to avoid losing my soul.”
“Really, are you sure you will not consider the first? — You wouldn’t miss it for the
world, it is such a small thing, such a diminutive part of who you are, a mere mote of your
essence. Why, you wouldn’t even know that it had gone missing. Besides, my dear Mr.
Beechcroft, it provides the best coverage with . . . no messiness to clean up afterwards.”
“Well . . . let me think . . . no I think I want to keep my soul for now.”
“Really? Is that really your final choice?”
“Yes, yes it is.”
Parallax sighed and said, “Well I tried my best. Please read the contract and sign with the
pen provided.” From somewhere above, a vellum parchment dropped heavily before Henry. Soon
afterwards a pen fell and bounce off of it to land right into Henry’s hand; the pen felt strange to
the touch. Henry tried to read the document, but his head began to ache from the confusing
legalities, protocol changes, escape clauses and the fact that the small print seemed to get smaller
and smaller toward the end of the page. He gave up trying to understand the contract and decided
just to sign it since he had already come this far. As Henry signed, he saw a pentagram form on
the skin of his wrist for every stroke of his name. After the last stroke of his name, the room
began to spin, Henry’s vision began to darken, and as he slowly passed out he heard Parallax

Henry found himself outside of his apartment, he didn’t know how he got there, but he
knew he was dead tired from his ordeal. He walked into his apartment, locked the door, fell like a
tree onto his bed and was instantly asleep. The nightmare returned, Henry saw himself as a
monestrous wolf that was ravaging each and every person that ever did him wrong. He saw
himself tearing out the throat of Jenny, gouged the eyes of his landlord, stuff one Lorenzo brother
into the other and numerous other horrible acts of savage murder. The dream both thrilled and
horrified him to the point he couldn’t tell one from the other. The nightmare repeated over and
over again, seemingly forever.

Henry awoke to the horribly annoying jingle of the channel three news; despite the fact
the TV set had been broken for two months. Groggy and full of bed sores Henry sat up and began
to focus on the date shown on the news. Three days . . . had he really been sleeping for three
days? The chipper newscaster was talking about something important, but he just couldn’t figure
out what she was saying just yet. Henry ran his hands over this face, trying to rouse himself and
was surprised that his hands felt wet. He looked down at his hands, and they were covered in
blood. Henry rushed over to his sink mirror and gasped as he saw it covered with small cuts and
streaks of blood . . . someone else’s blood. Henry spun around in panic, slipped on something,
came crashing down and then saw it; they were bloody wolf prints that led from the front door to
his bed. Henry slowly turned his head and focused on what the pretty newscaster reported, “. . .
including Jenny Terrence, Jake Thomson, Mike and Vic Lorenzo, coach Phillip H. Kerrigan and
Terrence Charmurs, just to name a few, were killed within the last three days. They were
savagely mutilated as if an animal had attacked them.” Henry heard a knocking on his door and
heard, ”Mr. Beechcroft will you please come to the door?” The newscaster continued, “Police
have now narrowed their suspect to adult book shop owner Henry A. Beechcroft. If you know the
whereabouts of this man, you are to notify the police immediately.” Henry’s head spun back to
the door as he heard more knocking and shouting, “Mr. Beechcroft, we know you are in there!
We have a warrant! . . . Alright knock it down!”

For the first time in Chicago’s history, judicial paper work was moving fast, his Judge was
to be Clarence “Hang Them All” McClancy, his defense lawyer only just passed his bar exam and
there wasn’t a jury in the city who would ever give him the benefit of the doubt. Alone in a single
jail cell, Henry sat in stunned silence. How could this ever have happened and how could he ever
get the blame for something he didn’t do. A janitor wheeled a cleaning cart slowly passed
Henry’s cell and then, after a small pause, tossed in a length of rope. The janitor said with a
mouth filled with far too many teeth, “You could always take the escape clause.” Horror-struck
Henry at the sound of the voice and then said, “Parallax, what did you do. I signed the contract so
that I wouldn’t have to kill anyone but still get my revenge. You cheated me — you were
supposed to do the job!” and Parallax with feigned sympathy replied, “And so I did Henry . . . I
killed each and every person for your revenge.” Henry grabbed the bars of his cell and yelled,
“Then why am I in here?” With devilish glee Parallax replied, “Well . . . probably because I
possessed your body to do the job.” Henry squeaked, “Why — why did you do that?” and fell to
his knees sobbing. Parallax’s grin got even wider, showing even more teeth than ever before and
said, “Why Mr. Beechcroft — I am shocked — I am very sure it was mentioned several times . . .
there was a change in protocol!”

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Change of Protocol Part 1

Change of Protocol
Tobias White

Change of Protocol was a short story that I wrote in college and some day I may illustrate what I wrote, but in the mean time I thought it would be nice to share with everyone.

Appraising his handiwork, he wiped the blood from his knife onto his jeans; she was his
victim; she was his . . . sacrifice. He had stolen, or it is better to say that he appropriated, the
female goat from the Chicago petting zoo and nearly got caught in the process by a Hispanic
security guard. The security guard never reported all the details of the incident, for he thought
that Henry Beechcroft was the ill-famed chupacabra and of course he wanted to keep his job.
Henry drained the goat’s blood into a shallow bowl and brought it to a circle filled with arcane
runes. Carefully he placed the bowl into the center of the circle while being sure not to spill any
onto the diagram lines. With a squeal of giggling expectation Henry exclaimed, “I will make
them pay — I will make them suffer — they will pay the price for all those years.” With a
sudden epiphany of forgetting something important, Henry shuffled through scores of old tomes,
high school note pads, and yellow sticky notes, all filled with incomprehensible scribbles.
During his search, he whispered with venomous spite, “I think Jenny shall be the first, the way
she scorned me . . . the way she ignored me . . . the way she humiliated me in front of everyone!”
“Ah, — here it is,” Henry said with relief as he grabbed a chunk of chalk and then proceeded to
fill in a few more symbols in his arcane circle.

Henry wiped the sweat from his brow as he sat back on his ankles while looking about
his small apartment and at years of effort. The room was actually quite large but it was a
bedroom, living room, kitchen and bathroom all rolled into one room, thus it had a
claustrophobic effect; of course this was all he could afford if he wanted to exact his revenge.
The room was a mess, littered with stacks of old tomes, idiot-guides to demonology, do-ityourself-
magic-kits, dozens of pizza box empties, and a computer that was hooked up to a
tripod mounted video camera. The camera automatically swerved and focused on Henry’s every
single move; if this was going to work, then he wanted to record it. A burst of giggling and then
with a near failure to repress another fit of the same, Henry said with a gleeful whine, “Then I
think it will be Jake Thomson next — Mr. BIG SHOT QUARTERBACK — I will never forgive
how he and his cronies would torture me in the school’s men’s bathroom . . . the worse part —
was the toilet bowl.” His preparations were now complete and Henry was happy to see that he
was ahead of schedule by a whole hour, so now he just needed to wait between midnight and
3am, the witching hour.

Henry waited an hour past midnight; you see he wasn’t really sure if the witching hour
accounted for daylight savings, so it was better to be safe than sorry. In an arcane triangle of
protection, just outside the circle, Henry knelt with his arms outstretched in supplication. In a
mere whisper he invoked the incantation, “Hey, hey, what do ya say, come on down for some
time to play — Iä, Iä mass tu vita — Hey, hey, what do ya say, accept this offering to end my
suffering — Iä, Iä, Parallax Fhtagn — I summon you — I invoke you — I command you Parallax
appear!” He waited, waited and he waited a little longer til then finally . . . nothing. Louder this
time, Henry began chanting again, “Hey, hey, what do ya say, come on down for some time to
play — Iä, Iä mass tu vita — Hey, hey, what do ya say, accept this offering to end my suffering
— Iä, Iä, Parallax Fhtagn — I summon you — I invoke you — I command you Parallax appear!”
He waited, waited some more, and then . . . nothing. With anger and frustration that all his
efforts would be in vain and that he may never get his revenge he rapidly shouted, “Hey, hey,
what do ya say, come on down for some time to play — Iä, Iä mass tu vita — Hey, hey, what do
ya say, accept this offering to end my suffering — Iä, Iä, Parallax Fhtagn — I summon you — I
invoke you — I command you Parallax appear!” He waited only for a short time when he heard
it, it was a pounding, the floor below the circle was shaking as if something was trying to break
through the paneling. A gruff and very irritated voice boomed from below the circle,
“Beechcroft, is that you who has awakened me!” Henry’s spirits rose, it worked, he couldn’t be
his ears and replied loudly, “yes, yes it is I oh evil one!” The voice boomed back, “Evil one? Oh
you are pushing your luck Beechcroft and if you don’t keep it down — I will kick your sorry ass
out on the street and sell your shit to the local pawn shop — you’re still one month past due!”
Henry sighed, he recognized the voice; it was his landlord Mr. Charmurs who was pounding the
ceiling with his baseball bat from the floor below. Under his breath and with teeth clenched
Henry said, “Just another asshole who needs to pay.” “ I just can’t figure out what went wrong.”
Henry poured over his note book, leafing through every page saying check, check, check
for each thing he did right. Then he notices the last page was actually two pages stuck together
with sauce from last night’s pizza. Prying these pages apart with embarrassment, he said, “Oh,
well . . . that will definitely be cut from the recording.” Clearing his throat he read aloud the
single word on the page, “Kabara-futa!” The air became charged with static and the room
dimmed into darkness. Henry thought he was passing out , but instead he saw the arcane
markings illuminate the floor with unearthly blue light. Henry’s skin crawled with goose bumps
and his ears rang like a victim of a KISS concert. The room echoed with a clicking, a whirring
and a metal like cranking as a plastic tube emerged from the center of the circle, rippling the
floor like water. It emerged from the circle at an angle that pointed right at Henry’s head.
Vibrating furiously, the tube began to emit a thumping and thwoomping sound. Before Henry
could react, like a fraternity potato gun, something blasted out of the tube and smacked him
squarely on the forehead, knocking him out.

Henry came back to consciousness, the light in the room had return to a normal level, the
tube from the circle was gone and he saw that all of his papers, books and pizza boxes were
blown helter-skelter. Henry sighed, for over in the corner he saw that his video camera had
tipped over and was now smoking with an untimely death. Henry winced as he rubbed at a
large, red and slightly skinned circular mark on his forehead. He then picked up the object that
struck him, it was an odd tube. The tube was made of clear plastic, was about a foot long, with
greased black rubber caps on the ends and lastly along the side it sported a catch release door. It
dawned on Henry that this was an old pneumatic tube shuttle, once used in old business
buildings long ago before e-mail, fax-machines or even intercoms became the standard; it used
an inverted pressure system to zip these cartridges back and forth through a complex system of
pipes, in which the shuttles, commonly containing messages or documents, would then end up at
specific floors or offices. Henry popped open the catch release and withdrew an old parchment
scroll. The scroll was tied with hemp and at the end of the string was a manilla tag; the tag read
— change in protocol.

Henry frowned at the tag while untying the hemp. There were actually two scrolls rolled
into one another. The first scroll was a new summoning diagram which showed the old
summoning triangle of protection resting within the summoning circle; this made Henry feel a
bit confused and nervous. The second scroll had a header that read — “Change of Summoning
Protocol, effective year 1942 AD.” Below the header were instructions for a new ritual and
incantation. Henry looked at his clock and saw that it was already 4:30 a.m., too late to begin the
new ritual . . . he would have to wait. Henry tried to get some rest, but simply couldn’t; he was
close, oh so very close. He gave up trying to sleep and decided to clean up his hovel of an
apartment. He threw out the pizza boxes, mournfully gave his video camera a dumpster funeral,
sorted through and stacked all his loose research papers, old tomes and other guides. Still he
couldn’t sleep, he was too excited because he knew that this time everything was going to work
out, because he had made contact, well of a sorts. He cleaned up the old summoning markings
and then drew the new markings from the first scroll. He checked and double checked, he wasn’t
going to foul this up, this time everything would go according to plan. About 11:30 a.m. Henry
felt exhausted and fell into his only chair, an old high back with floral patterns and a build up of
stains from since the 60's, he was sound asleep within moments.

Henry awoke screaming and nearly catapulted from his chair; the nightmare was so
utterly horrible, uncomprehensible and yet so vividly real to be, but a mere dream. Looking at
the clock, with groggy and bloodshot eyes which were encrusted with sleep, he saw that it was
1pm. With a hoarse voice Henry said, “Damn, only an hour and a half of sleep? I am so very
tired, but I simply can’t go back to that — dream.” Henry thought, perhaps a change of scenery
would help calm things down, besides Henry still needed to study the new ritual and incantation,
so he headed down to Vinnie’s coffee shop. As he walked down to Vinnie’s he muttered, “Who
else, who else . . . oh yes . . . how could I forget coach Kerrigan — that righteous bastard would
never let up and was always demeaning me, every — chance — he got!” . . . “Oh yes, he is
going to pay dearly as well!”

Henry was only a block away from Vinnie’s when he saw them approaching. Ducking
into an alley, Henry hid between a garbage can, a filthy dumpster and under a drapery of refuse
as he watched nervously while Mike and Vic Lorenzo sauntered on past the alley. The Lorenzo
brothers were chuckling about today’s agenda, which of course was nothing good as they were
cheap muscle for the local mafia. Slinking out from the gallery and brushing off the refuse he
muttered under his breath, “I still remember my long stay in the hospital . . . oh you two are so
on my list as well — I wouldn’t want to make you feel left out.” Henry grinned wickedly and
continued on to Vinnie’s.

At the coffee shop, Henry felt he could finally relax, he felt safe here and he liked
Vinnie. Vinnie was that straight up kind of guy, who seemed to know everyone’s name and was
well liked by the entire neighborhood. Henry ordered his cup of coffee, a 16oz house blend
spiked with Irish cream, and when he looked up to pay Vinnie for the cup of joe, Vinnie was
shocked with concern. Vinnie asked, while pointing at Henry’s forehead, “Hey Henry, what
happened there?” Henry reached up and winced as he touched his forehead and said, “huh,
what, oh this?”
“Ya that, where and how did you get it? Was it from the Lorenzo boys?”
“Haha, no it wasn’t them — at least not this time.”
“Then how did ya get it?”
“Well it was sort of an accident.”
“Accident huh? And what was this, accident?”
“Haha, well would you believe I got hit in the head by a pneumatic shuttle cartridge?”
Vinnie just gave Henry a stare that said, “Ya I am not going to believe that for an instant.”
“Look Henry, even if it wasn’t the Lorenzo boys this time, you can’t keep letting people
push you around like that.”
“I know, I know Vinnie — but you know things just might change.”
Vinnie raised his eyebrows at this and then scowled a bit.
“Well Henry, whatever trouble it is — I don’t want to know about it but just do one thing
for me, OK?”
“Ya sure, what is it?”
“Keep your wits about you and don’t doing anything stupid like rush into something you
don’t understand.”
“Sure, no problem.”
Henry gave Vinnie a weak smile and then sat down at his usual table, rolled out the scroll and
started to study the incantation. After only five minutes, he looked up and said with a
disbelieving chuckle, “Is this serious — it has to be some kind of joke, — but how I got it was
real enough.” Six hours later and wired from twelve cups of coffee, Henry headed back to the
Arcadia, the apartment high rise where he lived. Henry slowly sneaked past Mr. Charmurs’s
office, made his way up to his apartment, went inside, locked the door, stared down at the new
summoning circle and said with determination, “Now, time for the main event.”

Part 2

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Bad movies and their signs/ Plus my first review

For a long while now I have had a couple of theories about bad movies. These are signs that I high suggest that you should pay attention to before seeing a new movie. In addition, I will being doing a review of Silent Hill Revelations.


1. The Movie is being presented as a 3D Movie.

This is a big indicator of a bad movie, because odds are the movie was not designed to be a 3D movie which is it's own beast. Do not get me wrong, there are some 3D movies out there that were designed to be 3D, planned as a 3D movie and are a enjoyable 3D experience. However, a good majority of the time you will see a movie converted into 3D or the 3D is added on at the last second because the bigwigs in the movie industry thinks it will sell big. This sadly isn't so, because they do not treat it as an art form but a fad and thus it cheapens the experience.

2. It is a sequel with different directors, writers, and cast.

While there is always an exception to this rule, this is often another indicator of a bad movie. If the first movie was a success then it was due to the hard and creative efforts of the original cast, director and cast.  If the director is different, the cinematography maybe wildly different or a pale copy of what made the first movie strong. If the writer is different it also becomes a gamble because the script may not have the flavor of the first. If the movie is suppose to happen almost directly after the first successful movie then the audience that enjoyed the first movie will be expecting that cast because of continuity and they generally enjoyed their performance.

3. The Director and Writers are not fans

When a movie is based off a book, an old television series, or video games, it is vitally important that the director and writer have been exposed thoroughly to the original material. The first reason is that they get the content correct because all the fans will expect it to be held somewhat true to the original source material. The second reason is that the writer and director need to care about the source material because only then will the spirit of the movie be true to the spirit of the original source material. A movie these days are almost always written or discussed during its production or inception; this is especially true these days because of the internet. It is easy to find out about the lives of the directors and the writers and especially true to find out about the actor. So keeping this in mind it is easy to find out if they are fans or not.

4. The Preview is a lot of Razzle Dazzle.

Now don't let me mislead you, razzle and dazzle is a fine technique and it can help sell a product well, but if you see a preview of a movie that is nothing but razzle and dazzle without making you intrigued then this is a bad sign of a band aid approach for a bad movie. Some of the best pre-views you can ever see are the ones that don't try so hard to make you interested, they tell you just enough information just to make you interested to discover what the movie is about. The bad previews are super transparent and super flashy which often is most enjoyable aspect of that movie.

5. The movie relies too heavily on CG special effects and not content

Just like everyone else, I enjoy good and spectacular special effects, but a good movie relies content than it does it's special effects. Some of the best movies of all times had very little or bad special effects and yet they are more enjoyable. If you are going to have special effects then having a mix of both good CG and good old school special effects that are blended together. The reason that you need to blend it together is because it often makes it more believable.

6. A short time between the screen to DVD

Lastly this can be a big indicator of a bad movie. Often I can't get to or afford to go to the movies and I have to wait to the DVD release. If the movie didn't last long in the box office and it comes out to DVD in less than three months after it leaves the screen then indicates it is a bad movie. I can only speculate of the reasons why this is true but the biggest one is that they are trying to make up for money they lost in the box office. If they don't clear what they paid into it through the theaters then they need to make up the difference through DVDs and even streaming. Often these DVD will contain tons of coming attractions to the screen and DVD to help make up the difference. However, if it was a good movie odds are you won't see the movie in DVD form to much later because they have the money to make them extra special with extra features and you will see very little previews of coming attractions or none at all.

Enclosing, I am not an expert but these are signs that I have figured out to hold true and I also think they are all related to greed and not for the art of making a good movie. I am sure there are more signs of a bad movie and I would love to be informed about them from everyone else.

The Review!

            Silent Hill: Revelations 3D
This image is property of Davis Films and Konomi
 To be honest I am a big fan of Silent Hill back with the first one because it was truly scary and interesting. When the first movie came out I was interested but skeptical, but when I found out that the writer and director studied the games to become fans I took the chance and was rewarded to what I think is the best video game to movie ever. To me Silent Hill both in game and its first movie felt like a cross between the Twilight Zone and the works of H.P. Lovecraft.

So, of course, when the sequel to the first Silent Hill came out I wanted to see it but when I saw the 3D part, it made me nervous and then I started hearing bad reviews, not only from critics but from everyone that watched it. I also found out it was not made by the same people, well that is understandable  since one of them is in or was in jail.I stayed away from going to seeing it in theaters and only recently did I view it on DVD. This movie was horrible and hit just about every single bad sign that I mentioned in this article. The movie felt rushed and tried to do too much in too little of time. The script was really horrible and made Sean Bean look like he never acted a day in his life. The concept work of new monster were horrible and not in a good way, because they didn't fit the world of Silent Hill.

Just your Basic Blog Introduction for notions of Sagacity

Hello everyone, this blog is a connected to my art blog which is all about my artwork and the articles I write upon the subject of art which includes useful things like tutorials and other helpful info, but in this blog I will be writing articles about a whole host of different subjects that are not directly related to the art world but there may be some crossover. In this blog I will be anything and everything that comes along that I feel needs some attention, subjects and ideas that I would like to discuss with the public and reviews of movies, games, programs books and much more. I will be posting such articles in the very near future and I hope to hear from you all.