Monday, June 25, 2012

To Pulp, Or Not To Pulp

That is the suggestion - and it's giving me some indigestion.  (Yes, yes, I know, pretty pictures, where are the pictures?  Well, somewhere.  Not here. Yet.  But they will be.  When life and the wife give me a few spare moments.  Waiting is until waiting is fulfilled, young groklings.)

So, do I already have much of what I need to go Pulp?   Well, of course I do.  But do I have enough?  Well, of course I do not.  Need a 15 mm Murch and 15 mm Copplestone to, um, pardon, but mate up (clever use of phrasing there, yeah?) and put forth some darling little ones that will charm our wallets right out of our pockets.  

Where are the femme fatales, where are the jut jawed heroic fools who'll run for cover when the real firing starts? Where are the scatter-brained quasi-geniuses who'll convert the steam traction engines into something fiendish and clanky and grand - and distinctly unreliable?  For that matter, where are the steam traction engines?

Despite the yeoman efforts of Blue Moon and Splintered Light, and the plowman efforts of Rebel Minis and Irregular (Brigade Game's offering in the scale, while pleasant, are pauperish in quantity), there just plain ain't enough yet.  Need nineteen-ought vehicles, like a Stanley Steamer, some wonky flying machines right out of, well, Those Magificent Men and Their Flying Machines (the opening sequence, of course).  And at least the underslingings for a lighter than air ship.

I need, I need, sculptors take heed or, by thundering boilers, I'll break out in poetry!  Now, how about a nice spot of tea?  Oh, don't mind the rusty color of the hot water, I had the flues cleaned out a year or two ago.  Fortitude, chap.

And can Pulp exist pre-1900 or just into the twentieth century and still be Pulp?  I aim to make it so and keep it on earth and more or less to have it "make sense", 'cept when time gets a bit angulated in order to move around a sharp corner or two.

Got a script to go read so you'll have to finish cooking.  Hope it doesn't disturb my stomach to read it.

Narrative, narrative, must come up with a suitable narrative for my iteration of Pulp.  Don't worry, I'll share.  But it's mine, you hear me, all mine, just for me.  By leavens and lean-to's!

No comments:

Post a Comment