I don't normally do this particular style of writing. However, I'm in a mood today, so I figure I'll give it a try.

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This empty room.

Every night this room feels more and more empty.

The white walls splashed with yellow light, combining to create a sickening ambience. The walls, half decorated and half completely bare, further the sinking feeling in my stomach. Half of these walls were left bare for a reason, though it be long forgotten now.

Now...now any semblance of a desire to hang up the various posters, pictures, whatever other useless meaningless crap is all but gone.

The floor, though carpeted, still proved hard as concrete beneath me. My back ached. My neck ached. I ignored it as I continued to stare at the luminescent screen of my nearby laptop. On it droned on the same videos and same shows that I always watched.

My life proved pretty boring at times like these.

In my mind raged the neverending desire to DO something.

LEARN French.

BUILD your steampunk outfit.

MAKE videos for you blog.

WRITE those scripts you need to finish.

It screams out relentlessly to a body and heart that have no desire to act. I see no point. Why do I see no point? Couldn't say?

Depressed? Maybe. The possibility is too great to ignore.

Can anything be done? Maybe. Clinical help is expensive and untrained friends and associates can only do so much.

My mottled collection of action stare at me from their perch across the room. All of them forever stuck in whatever pose I chose for each of them, all of them forever fated to sit there in each others company until I either outgrow them or lose them.

"What am I doing with myself?"

The quiet of the room, of the apartment at 1am, answered back with a resounding silence.

At times, I contemplated my own death. Sometimes it was, in fact, thoughts of suicide. Other times, it was thoughts of what my funeral would look like, who would attend, what would happen to me after death...the typical combination of self and existential questions that everyone asks about their own demise.

I am wholly unoriginal when it comes to this.

Then again, there is only so much originality and creativity when can have when it comes to the unknown. Though, I suppose, one could argue that the unknown would provide a much broader canvass on which to create.

Then agian, I'm not a painter.

I'm sure Julia would agree with the latter statement of the above paragraph. She likes to think in the abstract. It comes with the mindset she revels in.

She's currently planning a camping trip this weekend. This saddens me even more because it was something her and I were supposed to have done together while we were together and we never got the chance...or maybe I didn't try hard enough to do it. Regardless, she's getting to do it now, and good for her, I guess.

So here I lay.

And lay.

And lay.

Something to Say or Silence will fall

It is a firmly held belief of minee that most people in the world have a lot to say but very little so Say.

If that doesn't make any sense, welcome to my mind.

My ex and I were talking tonight and she began asking me a series of abstract, overly-intellectual questions because she happened to be in one of those moods. During this discourse, she mentioned that I always seem to have something to Say, but seem to hold back.

I responded simply with a few retorts, such as people not being ready, myself not being ready, and me not being able to find the Words.

She parried and riposted by questioning who got to determine such things and that perhaps people would never be ready for someone with something to Say. Saying that to deny the world the things that some people have to Say and the abstract nature of those Sayings would simply cause everyone to be quiet.

I responded with that, instead of actually Saying what needed to be said, Silence would fall (I was being funny, quoting Doctor Who, but realized the significance after the fact).

I wonder if I truly have something to Say. Does everyone have something to Say and many just lose it when they let go of what makes them who they are, or let go of their ability to think coherently or abstractly? I do believe that there is great potential in the world for Sayings, many of which are lost as one gets older. Or does becoming older grant one the clarity to see what they have to Say?

I'm fairly certain that my Saying wasn't obvious until I got older, but maybe it's different for everyone. Maybe, much like our individual fingerprints, what we have to Say is unique to all of us and how it fosters and grows, or inversely withers and disappears, is equally unique to each individual. Whereas high school may be the setting where one young teenager's Saying flourishes into realization, another's may be crushed entirely. There's really no way to no.

Which brings me to my next, rather sorrowful, conclusion on what we have to Say: there seems to be no way to properly develop one's Saying. So many things to Say are lost. So many unique and abstract ideas are never cared for and manifested and shared as they should be. So many possibly world-changing realizations are never realized because the Saying was lost...and that saddens me.

I feel my own Saying still within me. What it Says, I'm not certain. As I think of it, personal truths flash before my eyes, showing how unusually contradictory I am with myself and the world around me.

I speak ill to your face and say good things behind your back.

I value the mind above all other things, moreso than even those that claim they do as well.

I want the world to be more intelligent and have more common sense, but despise everyone less-intelligent than myself.

I am content, but not happy.

I value kindness and good-naturedness, but see the logic in domination and manipulation.

My mind wishes to do a great many things, but the flesh bag it wears feels differently.

I am sad with no reason.

These thoughts and many more flash within the seismic disruption of activity within the cracks and crevices of my mind. My mind, a mind that never ceases to be active, even when I'm actively trying to deactivate it. Oftentimes I find my mind wandering much like it did in my school days when class bored me to literal tears, not a surprising turn of events considering my job has a very similar setting as that of a school, and I go on my fantastic adventures to faraway lands. The same adventures that I often mention in others posts, wishing that I were capable of going on or being whisked away to.

Maybe my setting is stifling my Saying. Maybe I yearn for those faraway lands because my mind interprets that as the only way what I have to Say will be Said.

Then again, maybe it's merely wishful thinking.

Games that Ruin Friendships: Kane and Lynch 2 (James' Version)

 Hello, faithful readers. The last wordslinger, Jason, here. James only agreed to do Kane and Lynch 2 on the condition that he would get to write his own side of the events that occurred since I "made him look like an asshole" in previous installments of this series.

That being said, this is his side of the story. I won't say anything more to influence your opinion or perception of the matter so that this comparison remains completely and totally 100% to the reader's interpretation.

However, I WOULD like to point out that his article wasn't very funny so I had to clean it up a bit. And there were a lot of words misspelled. And it was just downright boring.

But I fixed it. So don't worry.

(Editor's Note: I'll be sticking these throughout the article in places I think it's necessary to point out my friend's ignorance. They'll usually accompany a correction I've made or something that makes no sense.)

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So there I was back in Tower of Games on Saturday to burn some time before Pete’s Amber session. As usual I decided to do this by getting an all-day pass and getting on one of the 360s that they have there. But then I noticed something; Dumb hipster hat, a pair of eyes that matched that of a excited crack baby playing with his willy for the first time (Editor's Note: What the fuck does this even mean, James?), a goatee that belongs in a museum dedicated to the 90’s, and a stomach that was destined to become a beer belly lined with so much yeast that it would maintain a certain perk to it (Editor's Note: Was this a joke? I'm not even certain anymore if this, or any of the other things being written, are jokes). Yeah, I’m sure you would have guessed it by now: it was Jason.

(Editor's Note: Proper punctuation is critical to maintaining the correct tone for your article, James. Also, you're a fucking idiot.)

Editor's Note: In my defense, this was taken 10 years ago. Fucker.

Jason: JAMES! Come on let’s play a game together so I can put it on my blog! (Editor's Note: James, if you're considering this "writing" thing as a serious hobby, invest in elementary school grammar text books)

Several things went through my head. “GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!” was one of them. As well as the fact that the last two times he posted about our co-ops he made me out the be the dumb one and SOILED my good name. Well readers only I may soil myself. (Editor's Note: I'm sure my readers don't doubt this, buddy)

James: Ok, but only if you post my side of the story and you will post yours without reading mine first. Now why not “Kane and Lynch 2” (Editor's Note: This is incorrect. I was the one that chose Kane & Lynch 2. There is no joke here. James is just a liar)

He of course did not agree to play co-op in a game that was made to be a co-op. No, he picked Kane and Lynch 2: Pile of Hairy Dog Shit

OOPS my bad It was called dog DAYS not PILE OF HAIRY dog SHIT.
Easy mistake. (Editor's Note: I didn't correct these sentences because I wanted a clear example of how James doesn't understand how capitalization works)

Let me get what was wrong with the game out of the way first. I’m not going to get into the story as me and Jason just didn’t care. I read the plot on wiki later and found that I saved myself from making heavy sighs. You know it’s sad when you can spot bad writing and plot holes on the wiki. What disappointed me was that Kane never had his trippy moment where he starts to freak out. That was the highlight of the last game but they took it out. (Editor's Note: The fact that James actually referenced the first game and admitted to playing it shows how much more devoted, i.e. stupid, he is than I am)

Don’t worry guys I’ll get to why Jason sucks in a moment let me just blow past the game real quick. AI was uninspired and very buggy. Hit detection only detected when it felt like it. Level design was cramped and a little confusing. No melee or if there was it wasn’t working. Weapons were unrealistic. Taking cover was an ordeal. There was NOTHING in the gameplay I could speak of that was original. Simply put that game that Jason forced me to play had nothing above par. (Editor's Note: I like how James clearly states that it was me that chose Kane & Lynch 2 as the game to play when he earlier says HE was the one that chose it. Caught in our own lie are we, Mr. Marine?)

Now, on to why Jason sucks. I’ve seen 12-year-olds that could out play this guy in shooters. I didn’t mind the rush tactic that he used, sometimes it works because it denies the enemy time to prep. But not when Jason does it. (Editor's Note: This paragraph alone had 13 punctuation errors. Just wanted to point that out)

James: I’ll take the left side and push up.
Jason: Ok. Headshot. Headshot. Headshot.
James: That means you should get the fuck out my way at push up the right side.
Jason: Ok. Headshot. Headshot.
James:That's see here...now we...OW...JASON WHY am I am unprotected from the right. Those where clearly your guys that you blew past. Slow down we aren’t being timed!
Jason: Headshot....Headshot...Pft Keep up I’m getting SO many more kills then you (there is no way to tell this as the game didn’t keep track of stats)...oh by the way I’m 2 seconds away from dieing you should jump into this Chinese gang bang and save me.

(Editor's Note: James said none of the things he claimed to in the above dialogue. Either he was drunk, was remembering playing a different game, or is a liar. I'm still leaning toward the "liar" reason)

The game may have not had any stats to it but I do.

35.2% “Headshot” (72.3% of those were LIES)
20.7% “James, revive me.”
35.1% Shit Talk.

(Editor's Note: This is the point in the article when I'd question how James was able to accurately quantify the things being said. However, I realized that the answer is obvious: he's one of those retards that's only good at math. And by math, I mean coming up with bullshit figures)

After awhile we lost ourselves to cursing at each other. Thankfully, there were no kids there because F-bombs were being dropped like it was Pearl Harbor.

When Alex came in and told us that it was time to play Amber and you know what I thought it was over but no (Editor's Note: This sentence is beyond salvation. Enjoy your stay in grammar hell). He had to go on a monologue about how gay I was. Readers would you please refer to the first image. After awhile I decided it was time to keep my pimp hand strong. (Editor's Note: He didn't actually hit me in the balls, truth be told. He did, girlishly, slap me in the face before prancing off like a heartbroken ballerina trying to make sure her running mascara didn't get on her pretty pink tutu)

Editor's Note: Oh, yeah. Using the same image twice. Fucking hilarious, you master of comedy.

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And there you have it readers. I hope this was an enlightening experience for all of you out there. Now go read something a bit more mentally stimulating before those brain cells you lost reading this garbage of his become permanent.

Games that Ruin Friendships: Kane and Lynch 2

Mother. Fucking. James.

Yeah, that guy.

Those of you that have read my previous entries into this series know that this friend is the bane of my existence when it comes to multiplayer games. Now, I haven't been able to get any new material for this series because our dear James was away for several months doing his duty as a United States Marine. Bless him for doing our country proud.

However, he's back now. So the pain continues.

I will be the bigger man and admit that this round of suffering was my fault. We were at Tower of Games (located in Chesapeake, Virginia) and I suggested that we play another game together for the sake of a new article. He agreed and asked which game we should play.

Sure enough, the game that drew so much of our beloved Yahtzee's ire was available: Kane and Lynch 2: Dog Days.

And I'll go on to further admit that I'm not very good at shooters. However, I'd played this game before and found that I wasn't half bad despite the shitty controls and gameplay. I thought I'd give it another go, y'know?

Well, sure enough, this turned out to be a fun experience for all.

We boot up the game and James and I begin the first mission. Almost immediately, the game's terrible controls and camera, coupled with our inability to work together, turned the whole cyber cafe into a torrential storm of screaming obscenities (mostly directed at each other) the likes of which I had not had the pleasure of being apart of.

It went something like this:

James: Jason, what the fuck are you doing? You're charging at the enemy! Take cover!
Jason: Fuck you man! This is a bad game anyway, so just cover my rear!
James: I can't cover your rear if you run past three guys!
Jason: Come on, man! Aren't you a Marine or something! USE YOUR TRAINING!
James: WHAT GOOD IS TRAINING WHEN I'M PARTNERED WITH AN IDIOT!
Jason: FUCK YOU FUCKER!

And it went on from there.

One thing I had discovered in my previous playing of the game was that the hand guns were fairly useful in making headshots. I was particularly fond of the revolver (it seemed the most accurate), and was working diligently to try and take out however many enemies I could this time with the same technique.

It went something like this:

Jason: Headshot.
James: ....
Jason: Headshot.
James: ....
Jason: Headshot.
James: SHUT THE FUCK UP! A THIRD OF THOSE YOU MISSED, THE OTHER THIRD YOU KILL STOLE FROM ME, AND THE LAST THIRD....FUCK YOU!

Most engagements usually began with, as I previously stated, me running at the enemy guns a-blazing. I'm sure any of you hardcore shooter-gaming folk out there will laugh and scoff at my tactic and I have one simple response to you: fuck you.

Anyway, I would typically run at the enemies much to the anger of James who was trying to apply actual military tactics and maneuvers to a SHITTY GAME.

It went something like this:

James: Fuck, Jason you're in the way of my shot!
Jason: Fuck you.
James: You're ALWAYS in the way of my shots!
Jason: Fuck you. Shoot somewhere else.
James: GODDAMMIT JASON!
Jason: I'm down. Come revive me.
James: THAT'S THE TWELFTH FUCKING TIME!
Jason: FUCK YOU, MAN! JUST COME AND REVIVE ME!

Essentially if you combine all of these various elements into an almost incomprehensible maelstrom of swearing, that would pretty much describe what transpired between him and I. Granted, everyone else in the cyber cafe was rolling with laughter over the show they thought we were putting on for them, and I'm glad they found it amusing, but FUCK THEM.

Tempers got so heated that I eventually just went off on James.

It went something like this:

Jason: What the fuck were you doing for six fucking months? I bet you were actually over in man-thong land finally living out your dream and just going to town on any dick that you could find. I don't even think you were in Afghanistan a) because you came back unscathed and b) because you came back with this huge shit-eating grin that tells me that your yearly quota for cock was met over there. I bet the trees were made of dicks and they all had testicles for coconuts, and every fucking night you would sup of the sweet coconut-testicle juice, fulfilling every desire that you had ever had when-

And then he punched me in the dick. And slapped me.

Seemed like a fair enough reaction.

Renn Faire 2011: An Ongoing Car Ride

So, here I am in the backseat of my friend Jenn’s car. In the front are, of course, Jenn driving and in the passenger seat is Mae, a longtime friend of ours and fellow gamer. Currently, we’re stopped in traffic on I-64 in Chesapeake, Virginia on our way to our yearly visit to a renaissance faire in North Carolina.

Jenn and Mae are eating their Subway meals that we acquired prior to our excursion onto the interstate. I, however, chose not to purchase anything.

“Deploy the lasers. Why haven’t the lasers been deployed?” I asked, viewing the ridiculous amounts of traffic before us.

 “They haven’t been affixed to this car yet,” Jenn replied in typical deadpan Jenn fashion. When Jenn replies with this tone, it’s difficult to determine if she’s actually joking or not if you don’t know her well enough.

I pull out my laptop and begin writing this entry as the girls begin chatting about various topics, bouncing to and fro in their discussion about nothing in particular. We pass by two cars pulled off to the side, trapped by the sea of barely-moving vehicles.

“I wonder if they’re trying to get off,” Mae inquired as we passed by the motorists.

“If they are, they’re SOL,” Jenn replied.

“Yeah, ‘We’re going to just cross the five lanes of packed traffic to get off at the Battlefield exit!’ Wait, you can’t GET to the Battlefield exit from this side of the interstate. Well, they’re fucked.”

“Yup,” Jenn concurred.

The girls asked me what I was doing in the back, laptop out and the tippity-tap of my typing evident of some sort of activity. My writing ceased momentarily as I grinned up at them from my backseat haven.

“Writing fan fiction. ‘Ron slowly crawled into Harry’s bed. Neville was awoken by the sound of Ron’s…’ I think I’ll stop there.”

The girls chuckled at my admittedly immature joke, my joke that segued their talk into a discussion about the most recent, and last, Harry Potter movie. This, in turn, led into a broader discussion about Harry Potter in general between the two of them.

I continued to remain silently detached from the talking.

“I hate Katy Perry so much,” I stated simply, hearing Firework start playing on Jenn’s radio, "Get ready to hear this song every fucking 4th of July."

 “I don’t mind her so much,” Jenn said.

“Have you ever heard her sing live?”

“Oh, I know that many artists are so studio altered that they sound nothing like they do in real life, and, in actuality, can’t carry a tune onstage. That doesn’t stop me from having their songs on my iPod if I like them.”

Admittedly, I like Perry’s E.T. for god knows what reason.

Then the conversation turned to Glee. Being an out-of-the-closet fan of the show, and Mae being an openly enthusiastic fan of the show, her and I kept talking about our favorite songs, mash-ups, lines, characters, moments, and so on. Even Jenn, who hadn’t seen much of the show, added to the conversation every once in a while.

This lasted for a good 30-40 minutes of nothing but Glee-related talk. This is what happens when you get diehard geek fans together. 

 Jenn, feeling inspired by the talk of show choirs, decided to turn the course of the discussion to the Evil Dead Musical, the music of which she happened to have on her iPod and wanted to share. We obliged her, Mae and I having never seen or heard the songs before.

I have to say that the one about every man one of the female characters had known was killed by a Sandaran demon was pretty funny.

And, as inevitably must happen between three hardcore gamers that had once gamed together in a memorable campaign, the conversation turned to Dungeons and Dragons.

To be fair, Jenn had told me a week or so beforehand that she was trying to work on putting a timeline of the game she had run a few years ago together. She was having difficulty remembering several of the parts and required the assistance of Mae and I during the car ride to try and fill in the missing bits. However, these talks always start out under innocent pretenses like “filling in the missing bits” and somehow always devolve into laughing and reminiscing about the old games and characters and on and on.

We continued to talk about D&D for the next few hours. 

 Then we picked up Tim. Tim is one of those few whose intelligence is something I admire and envy. He was my DM once upon a time. I cannot express how terribly he traumatized me during the two games we played in together.

So, obviously, we continued to talk about D&D for the rest of the car ride.

What can I say? Geek pride lives on in the proud.

Blog Update - 10/5/2011

All right, loyal readers, I finally got off my lazy ass and finished the article and video sections of my blog. Now, all of my wonderfully-written and wonderfully-shot articles and videos are in easy-to-find and easy-to-navigate pages right there at the top of my page.

If you're blind and find yourself unable to locate such link buttons at the top there, allow me to provide you with direct links here:

Article List
Video List

No longer will you have to dredge through dozens of back pages just to find that ONE poignant article I may have written or stolen from someone else! Be sure to use these features to share my work with your friends, otherwise I will have spent hours of my life organizing and linking it all for...well....nothing.

Excelsior!

MonsterFest - Red Knight by Justin Cristelli

And we're back. For the next installment of our local talent spotlight that I encountered at MonsterFest, I'd like to introduce you to the newest hero on the block...Red Knight!

Red Knight is a comic written by Justin Cristelli, drawn by JC Grande, and published by Primal Paper Comics. All three are local to the area and I was fortunate enough to meet Justin at MonsterFest, talk with him briefly, and buy the first two issues of Red Knight.

Having finally read them, I can honestly say that I'll make a concerted effort in attempting to buy the future issues (issue #3 should be coming out sometime in the near future). 

One of the things I really enjoy about this comic, thus far, both in and out of the storyline, is the local flavor of the whole experience. As I stated previously, the comic itself is produced by the local Cristelli and Grande and published by the local Primal Paper Comics. Currently, it's circulation includes all local comic stores that have a brain. If you have a local Hampton Roads comic store that doesn't carry Red Knight, you should definitely inform them of their error. 

Within the story, however, is where the real magic happens. The setting itself is local Norfolk, Virginia. I have to admit that it's a VERY cool feeling to be reading a comic where the heroes are stomping around your own area. On top of that, the experience isn't the same as it is for, say, New York City citizens with the many comics being set there, considering that Norfolk and Hampton Roads are small enough that it makes the experience much more...personal for local readers.

The setting of Norfolk also plays a role within the plot. Many of the characters reference how Norfolk, being a much smaller city than the more major ones in the country, doesn't seem worth having its own superhero/villain. Several characters even mention how super criminals that get trashed in Washington D.C. only show up to Norfolk to lick their wounds. 

The entire premise revolves around the two parties involved, the superhero trio (including Red Knight, of course) and the super villains basically proclaiming that, since Norfolk has not warranted its own super-community yet, that they'll take it as theirs, whether for good or ill.

This brings an entirely different bend on the superhero angle considering many readers of mainstream comics forget that small towns DO exist in the world of superheroes despite the fact that the heroes themselves are stationed in the major metropolises.

 

Anyway, the story revolves around Todd McClain, the titular Red Knight, who only wants to be a superhero and fight crime. However, he lives in a world where vigilantism is not only illegal, but a serious offense, and superheroes have to register to do any sort of do-gooding. Ignoring these, however, he does his best to fend off drug dealers and thieves with the help of his two friends, Fireball and Nonstop. 

I won't go into too much detail about the initial story, considering it's only two issues long and telling you ANYTHING would ruin the better bits, but I highly recommend finding it and picking it up for yourself. Cristelli was telling me how Red Knight has a good mixture of Batman and Spider-Man in him, and it shows in the humor and nature of the character.

All in all, a very enjoyable read thus far. I DEFINITELY will be picking up issue three when it comes out and you should check all of them out if you haven't yet.

Oh, did I also mention you can get a chibi Red Knight plushie too?

MonsterFest - Dr. Madblood: Scientific Master of the Horror Film!!

Recently, I attended a local yearly event that I had been putting off for quite some time. Having, at one time, been involved with the areas resident Rocky Horror Picture Show shadow cast, I had known one of the long-time-associated individuals by the name of Rob Floyd. Rob is one of the coordinators of the event in question and every year he got up on that Rocky Horror stage and promoted the hell out of it.

What is that event, you ask?

Well, it's MonsterFest.

MonsterFest is a somewhat small, local convention that specializes in current horror and older horror films, along with a splash of fantasy and science fiction thrown in. Located at the Chesapeake Central Library in the Great Bridge division of Chesapeake, MonsterFest isn't widely known, but IS widely loved by its loyal attendees.

This past Saturday was, in all honesty, my first time going to MonsterFest. Ever. I had been aware of it for quite some time and never made the effort to go. While it doesn't have the glamour and scale of other large conventions in the area (Nekocon comes to mind...), it certainly makes up for it in heart and local talent.

So! Now that I've concluded my introductory stretch for this article, I'll get into the reason for this series.

One of the charms of MonsterFest is all the local talent that shows up to showcase and share their work with the public, hopefully gaining some new fans. I will highlight several of these artists/entertainers here in my blog in hopes that I can generate at least a LITTLE more fanbase for them.

Today, I'm here to talk about Doctor Madblood.

Pictured here: SCIENCE!

Doctor Madblood is a horror movie showcase program that began in 1975. Trying to differentiate himself from the other horror show hosts at the time (who were all vampires...I guess it was the "thing" to do), Jerry Harrel created the titular Doctor Madblood to be the host of a Halloween special.

With the special having a resounding amount of success, the show has, since then, been aired weekly after Saturday Night Live,  been moved around to various other time slots, been taken off the air for a few years, and eventually returned with a resurgence in televised and online media.

During it's 36 year, on-and-off tenure, Doctor Madblood has introduced a variety of characters and storylines into the Madblood universe. These stories and characters have ranged from the comedic and one-shot to the serious/scary and recurring, showing the extensive creativity that Harrel and his team still continue to draw upon even after more than three decades of doing it.

One notable cast member, a personal acquaintance of mine, is one Craig T. Adams.

Pictured here: TIME TRAVELING SCIENCE!

Involved with a local childrens theater troupe in the area, Craig also portrays Uncle Felonious, Brain, and several other recurring characters on the program.

Now, as of the posting of this article, I've only watched a few of the complete episodes, "The Goodbye Button" and "Wonderman" that I found on Youtube, and the special sneak preview of their upcoming movie at MonsterFest, and I have to admit that the team involved is talented and funny. Personally, I'm going to look for more episodes and try to catch their show more often.

I recommend all of you do the same too!

Long days and pleasant nights, readers.

Doctor Who Series 6 Finale

"The first question! The question that must never be answered! Hidden in plain sight! The question you've been running from all your life! Doctor...who? Doctor WHO? DOCTOR WHO?"

Madman with a box

And that, my dear readers, was the closing line of this series finale of Doctor Who. Recently, I've been rewatching a lot of Tennant's last season and Smith's first season and it becomes apparent whenever you encounter a Stephen Moffat episode that he's been building up to this for quite some time.

Madman with a Doctor

It seems that this storyline has always been on Moffat's mind and he's finally able to bring it ot he forefront in the Whoniverse. Personally, I believe he's gearing up for the 50th anniversary of the show in 2013 where the Doctor's name, the question that every fan has ever had, the question that the show's own title is based on will finally be answered. What could be a more fitting way to celebrate five decades of Doctor Who than to do something spectacular and give the fans.

And, honestly, I think it's a brilliant idea. And brilliantly executed. I had my suspicions that "the Question" always being referenced in the show would, in fact, pertain to the Doctor's identity. I did have my suspicions that it might be about other things, but my mind kept occasionally coming back to the Doctor's identity.

"No, no, no," I would say to myself, in a fleeting moment of insanity, "That would be TOO obvious."

I swear you've been taking your meds

But the way in which it was presented...the method the writers used to execute the revalation of the Question, I realized that it was ever the only question that could be asked. For 50 years, viewers have watched this program, fallen in love with the many incarnations of the mad Doctor, all without every knowing the "madman with a box"'s name.

As I read in another article addressing recent Doctor Who storylines, Moffat has been building up to this since he before he was head writer, writing individual episodes for Tennant seasons. Now, being the man in control of the Doctor's destiny, so-to-speak, he finally is bringing his grand scheme to the forefront.

My personal belief is that Smith will stay on at least through the 50th anniversary and the 50th anniversary will be centered around the Dotor's name and everything hinted at in this series' finale. If my assumptions are correct, the world will know "Doctor who?" at long last. And if this turns out to be the case, allow me to say what a better man has said before me:

Fantastic! Allons-y! Geronimo!