Category Archives: Alternative

Chapter Four - (Its My Nature To) Cry (Vinyl)

Film noir is also known for its use of odd angles, such as Roger's low shot introduction in the first episode. Noir cinematographers favoured this angle because it made characters almost rise from the ground, giving them dramatic girth and symbolic overtones. Other disorientating devices like dutch anglesmirror reflection and distorting shots are employed throughout the series.

The characters of The Big O fit the noir and pulp fiction archetypes. Big Ear is Roger's street informant and Dan Dastun is the friend on the police force. The recurring Beck is the imaginative thug compelled by delusions of grandeur while Angel fills the role of the femme fatale. Minor characters include crooked cops, corrupt business men and deranged scientists.

The dialogue in the series is recognized for its witty, wry sense of humor. The characters come off as charming and exchange banter not often heard in anime series, as the dialogue has the tendency to be straightforward.

The plot is moved along by Roger's voice-over narrationa device used in film noir to place the viewer in the mind of the protagonist so it can intimately experience the character's angst and partly identify with the narrator. The tall buildings and giant domes create a sense of claustrophobia and paranoia characteristic of the style. Noir protagonists often look for sanctuary in such settings but they just as likely end up becoming a killing ground.

While no classic noir possesses a jazz score, the music could be heard in nightclubs within the films. Amnesia is a common plot device in film noir. Because most of these stories focused on a character proving his innocence, authors up the ante by making him an amnesiac, unable to prove his innocence even to himself. Animation 's Batman: The Animated Series[31] [32] one of the series' influences. One part Bruce Wayne. One part City Smashing Robot.

Roger Smith is a pastiche of the Bruce Wayne persona and the Batman. The character design resembles Wayne, complete with slicked-back hair and double-breasted business suit.

Unlike the personal motives of the Batman, Roger enforces this rule for "it's all part of being a gentleman. The Big O' s cast of supporting characters includes Norman, Roger's faithful mechanically-inclined butler who fills the role of Alfred Pennyworth ; R. Dorothy Wayneright, who plays the role of the sidekick; and Dan Dastun, a good honest cop who, like Jim Gordonis both a friend to the hero and greatly respected by his comrades.

The other major influence is Mitsuteru Yokoyama 's Giant Robo. The feature, a " retro chic " homage to Yokoyama's career, [36] took seven years to produce and suffered low sales and high running costs. Frustrated by the experience, Katayama and his staff put all their efforts into making "good" with The Big O. Like Giant Robo, the megadeuses of Big O are metal behemoths. The designs are strange and "more macho than practical," [33] sporting big stovepipe arms and exposed rivets.

Unlike the giants of other mecha series, the megadeuses do not exhibit ninja-like speed nor grace. Instead, the robots are armed with "old school" weaponry such as missilespiston powered punches, machine guns and laser cannons. Believing that because Red Baron had such a low budget and the big fights always happened outside of a city setting, he wanted Big O to be the show he felt Red Baron could be with a bigger budget. He also spoke of how he first came up with designs for the robots first as if they were making designs to appeal to toy companies, rather than how Gundam was created with a toy company wanting an anime to represent their new product.

Big O's large pumping piston "Sudden Impact" arms, for example, he felt would be cool gimmicks in a toy. The Big O was conceived as a media franchise. Authored by Hitoshi Ariga, the manga uses Keiichi Sato's concept designs in an all-new story. The series ended in October The issues were later collected in six volumes. The English version of the manga is published by Viz Media. In anticipation of the broadcast of the second season, a new manga series was published.

Lost Memory [d]authored by Hitoshi Ariga. Lost Memory takes place between volumes five and six of the original manga. The issues were serialized in Magazine Z from November to September and were collected in two volumes. Konaka and featured the series' voice cast. An English translation, written by English dub translator David Fleming, was posted on Konaka's website.

The series, including its second season, is also featured in Super Robot Wars Zreleased in The Big O became a mainstay of the "Z" games, appearing in each entry of the subseries. Bandai released a non-scale model kit of Big O in Though it was an easy snap-together kit, it required painting, as all of the parts except the clear orange crown and canopy were molded in dark gray. The kit included springs that enabled the slide-action Side Piles on the forearms to simulate Big O's Sudden Impact maneuver.

Also included was an unpainted Roger Smith figure. Each came with non-poseable figures of Roger, Dorothy and Angel. Mini-figure sets were sold in Japan and America during the run of the second season. The figure has the same features as the model kit, but with added detail and accessories.

Its design was closely supervised by original designer Chapter Four - (Its My Nature To) Cry (Vinyl) Sato. Like most Figmas, they are very detailed, articulated and come with accessories and interchangeable faces.

The figure contained most of the accessories as the Soul of Chogokin figure but also included some others that could be bought separately from the SOC figure, such as the Mobydick hip Anchors and Roger Smith's car: the Griffon. Like the Soul of Chogokin figure, its design was also supervised by Keiichi Sato. These figures are high in detail but limited in articulation, such as the arms and legs being the only things to move. To date, this is the only action figure of Big Fau.

The Big O premiered on 13 October The show was not a hit in its native Japan, rather it was reduced from an outlined 26 episodes to 13 episodes. Western audiences were more receptive and the series achieved the success its creators were looking for. Several words appear constantly in the English-language reviews; adjectives like "hip", [28] "sleek," [45] "stylish", [46] "classy", [33] and, above all, "cool" [44] [46] [47] serve to Chapter Four - (Its My Nature To) Cry (Vinyl) the artwork, the concept, and the series itself.

Reviewers have pointed out references and homages to various works of fiction, namely Batman[26] [48] Giant Robo[25] [33] the works of Isaac Asimov[27] [28] Fritz Lang 's Metropolis[25] James Bond[49] and Cowboy Bebop. The first season's reception was positive. Anime on DVD recommends it as an essential series. The dangling plot threads frustrated the viewers and prompted Cartoon Network's involvement in the production of further episodes.

The look and feel of the show received a big enhancement in the second season. Even if Sara went over to the Waverider now, she would have missed too much history, she would have missed too much time. Slowly, Nyssa shifts, turning to look at her, and actually manages to have the feeling leak out again. It makes Sara feel colder, it makes her look down at her fidgeting bare fingers.

I have no claim to it now. Nothing waits for me and I have nothing to wait for. She meets brown eyes again and is surprised to find them looking away. In amused disbelief, Sara laughs at her. Silently, she watches Nyssa softly clear her throat and smooth the front of her grey vest, the suit pants. A hand brushes through short brunette hair and it could be shaking. When the assassin looks up again, the brown eyes are brutally honest; soft and warm, but somehow pained. Sara feels herself growing cold for the moment it takes Nyssa to speak again.

Outside, the night has started to give away to light; soft grey illuminates the world carefully, the dawn finally coming up to greet Chapter Four - (Its My Nature To) Cry (Vinyl) City. Moira Queen is ecstatic to be staying here with her grandchildren, with Felicity, with Thea and Roy.

A fine, good place; longing to be filled with soul and life, asking to welcome those who Oliver held dear; there is already a bedroom waiting to host Sara in here, until she finds her footing in the city, in the world. She bites her tongue to keep from laughing, focusing on the bitter taste of reality slowly leaking into her mouth. The story is heavy on the front of her mind and Felicity has a hand over her own before Sara can even try to look for words.

Mia coos on Sara's lap, Oliver's eyes glancing up at her and having her heart skip a beat. She shrugs a shoulder. On the way, she walks by Thea in the living room, lazing on a couch and breathing deeply under a fleece blanket, and the woman opens her eyes just enough to watch her cross the room in a dazed hurry.

There are people tending to the gardens; autumn colors leaving behind fallen leaves and the comforting scent of wet soil. It is an oddly optimistic melody and, only for a moment, Sara allows it to flow through and warm at the frozen parts of her mind. She zips it up only enough for it not to be annoying and then, Sara rides out.

Despite the rain of two days ago, the sky is clear now, only a few puffy clouds lingering around. It feels good to be riding again, wind brushing against her chest and neck, blowing back the strands of hair let loose from the helmet. It is cold, but it is also familiar; comforting. The road flies underneath the tires, faster than it is probably supposed to, and soon enough, the fancy part of the city is left behind for the main streets.

She slows down just so, even if her mind remembers the vehicles of this city, remembers the dangerous corners and every broken red light, remembers the maze of this street as if she was driving through it only yesterday. The traffic is tricky; enough to have her hands tense slightly on the handlebars, enough to have her eyes snap around more and more often.

But there is no problem in the end, both people and fellow vehicles slow down to let her pass, eyes blown wide at having someone drive through their city in the manner Green Arrow and Black Canaries used to. Only one cop dares to blare his red and blue sirens, dares to chase after her, and Sara laughs, the Ducati roaring in happiness as she pushes it ahead, liberated from acting like a civilian.

From there, the city embraces her tight, effortlessly leading her down the roads, for the bustling Chapter Four - (Its My Nature To) Cry (Vinyl) of the docks; a mix of puffing seawater and industrial sounds of people working and machines shrieking. The scent of fish and salt come to attack at her nose and mind, effectively making her stomach roll in aged old distress.

Carefully, she urges the motorbike to go faster, switching to the high-speed lane of the main street, pass this area as quickly as possible.

Her hands wrap tighter around the cup of coffee. Seems like there is always one Chapter Four - (Its My Nature To) Cry (Vinyl) between her palms now. She looks at home in this kitchen, in this mansion.

Memories, trauma, training. Once in the Ducati passes into the highway leading to Central City, Sara allows herself to ease again; the ocean and the city slowly been left behind. Both of her hands leave the door and the frame, both reaching out for her daughter. When they actually find a solid shoulder, another gasp of breath leaves the woman; pained and desperate and so, so relived.

Hands grip at her shoulders and her back and the back of her head, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Sara thinks her mom is sobbing. The bloodlust rises to the back of her throat, it sits heavy on her tongue. It numbs her mind in a way that has Sara wanting to bite down on something, hard enough to make it bleed. Cars wheeze to the side of the motorbike, the concrete flies underneath speeding tires. They cross over the bridge now, over the wide stream of raging water underneath.

The metallic structure rise strong, fat poles of steel holding on a parade of speeding vehicles. The way to Central City always holds traffic. Focuses on the now and here, the things she can see and breathe and touch. The adrenaline makes something pause and it is like the only thing in motion, in this time, in this present, is herself on top of the motorbike. Something so different between dangling over empty space and driving like this and, yet, the exact same, in terms of how it makes the world feel, how it makes time feel.

At moments like this, nothing real matters, nothing that can drug Sara along the endless line of weighted space. Her hands reach for another smooth sheet, they quickly start folding again.

A second, identical boat gets dropped right next to the first; two small, white, paper boats settled on the marble surface of the counter. Sara looks up at Felicity, lifts an eyebrow, and tells her so. In their essence, despite you seeing the other one? Is the ship of Theseus different, in its essence, if I replace its planks and nails? Central City lifts in the distance, harbor and port opening right at the edge of the bridge and welcoming those coming from the other side.

Shiny, tall, clean enough to have Sara snort a bit. A lot of glimmering glass, a lot of tended green patches. There is a crowd today; people walking in the autumn sunlight, families having overtook parks and center squares.

A fine Saturday for Central City, apparently. She remembers the main Avenue, the park, the way to the Justice League headquarters; for a second, there is a deep need to get to the building and check it out.

If it still stands, if it is used, if there is a cot in there and is kind enough to house her for a night. Having just drove the way here, driving the way back will be a pain in her ass — especially if the whole thing goes according to plan.

Sara clicks her tongue and steps on the sidewalk, walking people wrapping around her and allow her to become one with the crowd of strangers. It makes Sara laugh. By now, a few people have slowed their walk to take a look at her, the face she holds. One, two rings like always and then, Gideon is on the line, and Sara stops walking.

Something different. Rather quite human to be exact, rather quite grounded and emotional. In the year she missed, something did quite change. When her old friend speaks again, Sara hears the human hesitation as clear as day. One, two beats of time and then, there is some commotion, distant electronic sounds of a video game and weird shouting from someone that sounds like Behrad. One, two beats of time and a sigh blows in the speaker, hard enough to let Sara know the other clone had been using the gym.

Her jaw is already clenched tight. When someone else clips her shoulder and turns to apologize, the poor man finds blue eyes shooting a glare at him. Standard time on a Saturday. Exact date is the seventh of November More people have spotted Sara now, pointing at the blonde woman holding the title of a Legend, of the time traveler, of the White Canary. This woman feels like her mother, it feels right to call her as such.

He fits in with the earthy colors of the living room and the rest of the house, everything almost painfully domestic. This normality sets Sara on edge, has her fidget with her hands and focus on these three knives strapped on her body.

The walls either seem to expand and create airless gaps of space, or exhale deeply and narrow down around her, trapping time an motion all too close to Sara, enough to cut off her breathing. He beams at her and, goddamnthis is indeed too normal for her. She looks at it. She moves it to the pillows so she can sit on the armrest instead. She frowns at the words, shrugs her shoulders closer and she wants to get out of here.

In terms of nature, this is the first time Sara holds onto her mother. The words come easier now and Sara remembers Nyssa again; remembers brown eyes watching her; confused at the face of such a story; unease at learning of magic creatures, demons and alien science.

Whole lifetimes have passed since then; universe and cosmos collapsing and rebuilding. The League gone, the years passed, people grown and changed. She runs a hand through loose waves of blond hair, pushing them to a side and getting them out of her eyes.

Dinah is quick enough to recapture her hands in hers as soon as they lower again. The house exhales. Sara scoots a bit back, giving her space to breathe. The words form a choking knot around her throat. The only thing she knows is that Dinah Lance deserves the truth, but deserves to be kept away from most of the pain too.

The flames leak hot and dangerous around her, floor violently rattling and breaking apart as the building folds in half. Sara chokes on air and there are straps holding her down on the medical bed, down on the thin mattress. She pulls hard enough for the straps to cut in her wrists and, aged old instincts kick in, training from another life coming to save her ass.

The ground folds in pieces and ducks underneath her steps, the ceiling falling on Sara like some kind of stone confetti and dangerous footballs of concrete. Sara blinks and looks at her mother and lightly shudders at the memory.

Carefully, the woman taps at them with her fingertips, rubbing over white skin and urging them to ease their grip, and for a moment, Dinah seems to notice the lack of callouses, the lack of marks, those her mom mindlessly trailed every time they spent some time together.

She flinches and time presses in her lungs like liquid, past and present fighting to be expressed, to be told. It had taken them months to work through the story of the League of Assassins; months for Dinah to learn of Lazarus Pits and black magic tearing at souls. And, in rather good timing, a knock comes on the door and Sara struggles through a painful sigh. The other clone has the keys, carefully clicking the door open and heavily gulping at the first sight of the scene already playing on the living room.

The glimmering lights inside, both a welcome and a warning for those approaching. The front doors locked tight and guarding themselves with motion trackers and face recognition. A back door few people know, greeting Sara with quiet delight. She should probably bet Nyssa to do so at some point. The main lights blink on, as soon as Sara steps into the main room and, whoasomeone has been rather busy around here. The ground building is separated in about seven spaces. The round table is put upon a platform right in the middle, the black standing firm on a carpet of deep blue, only two steps to be climbed for the leather chairs.

Around the table, a line of computer screens and keyboards circle the platform, every electronic board in the line of sight of every single chair. On the other side of those screens, more computers line up, small spaces cut between the tables for one to pass through quickly. Most of the screens are turned off, only a few lighted up for the code to run freely, for the camera images to be seen on them.

Next to the parked vehicles, long containers lean solid and dark on the smooth floor, their own doors locked away with chains. But, towards the back of the open space, more containers and boxes lay; those looking unlocked, half shut and relatively used.

And, yet, this gym looks impressive enough to urge Sara to step closer, only for her sight to snap to a shadow lingering further back. Seems well tended, smoothed out from times to times and, it has been years ever since the crisis, but the memories are still so very clear in her mind.

The way everything in existence fucking jerks in motion as soon as the phone in her pocket rings like a motherfucker. Oddly clean. As Nyssa carefully rasps into her ear, Sara lowers back onto the floor and folds an arm underneath her head, fingers tangling in her own hair.

The ceiling is very ugly. Go figure. Wherever she is, it is quiet; her voice the only sound drifting through the phone. The other clone returned to the Waverider without a look or a word at Sara, and the walk back to the motorbike had been filled with unsure steps, unsure thoughts, her heart trashing into her chest. It fuels a tremble inside of Sara; something a lot like certainty spreading through her.

Plain text with limited HTML? I really need a fic talks about Clone! Sara's identity issues and trauma, like, in season 6 the writers make her a clone but didn't care anything that follows with the clone thing, they just make Sara simple and happy, now she's just a one-dimensional character And she's not even the main character anymore, she's now just a 'captain' tool without her own story!

So good to see character study as always, thank you for writing!!! Very intriguing. Waking up to Ava clones and not realizing she herself is a clone.

I can imagine the safety the walls of that ship must provide. Oh, Nyssa. Love that she was pulled to Nyssa. Amazing…and heartbreaking. And really. Where was she supposed to go. Nyssa is like a siren call. I would want to fall to her too! I mean for all there history, after all, Nyssa is a safe place. I'm so disappointed at LoT writers for not daring to explore this storyline more.

Give me a bunch of clones and tell me what they do with life. I'm so drunk writing this comment. Talk to me about Sara's life out of legends it intrigues me beyond hell. Don't you drink so much, kids. A friend suggested it and the words worked perfectly and so here we are!

They had good friendly chemistry. I can see Felicity wanting to help. And Sara at the Queen Mansion. It must have been like being stabbed for her. Main Content While we've done our best to make the core functionality of this site accessible without javascript, it will work better with it enabled.

Get an Invitation. Chapter 1 Notes: So here's how Nyssara can still win- Okay, seriously, this is the clone storyline done by the general clone-writing-textbook since LoT writers are cowards and don't want to do angst like they are supposed to with these storylines they come up with. It is quiet when it happens. She Chapter Four - (Its My Nature To) Cry (Vinyl) the rest in a pocket and aches.

They, the AVAs, bless them, allowed her to stay with them for a while. You are on your own, Sara. Only because she is lucky enough to be created first. For all her worth, Ava seems pained and avoids looking at her. In this present, Sara feels cold. Notes: The thing is that I haven't written anything more than this so, um, any ideas or scenes you'd like to see are very much welcome!

My plan only writes; cooking as an expression of care, a penthouse, long walks in the city, crying and swords : You can also talk to me on tumblr; redflagsandbanners. Chapter 2 Notes: Oh, look, we are going deeper in various issues! Hope you enjoy this. An army? Sara tenses. She forgot to breathe out. She only sees Sara. One look at Nyssa and Sara can travel back in time. Feature From the dastardly to the downright evil, these are the best X-Men villains ever.

Feature Who would win in a fight between the X-Men and the Avengers? Marvel Comics has answered the question several times. Feature 9 of 10 rating : Digging into the blistering heat of Inferno 1, the first issue of Jonathan Hickman's X-Men swan song.

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9 Responses to Chapter Four - (Its My Nature To) Cry (Vinyl)

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