Visual representation

It’s Tuesday. The Tuesday before many of you are heading to Celebration VI. This is probably the longest Tuesday you’ve faced in a long time, but fret not. We’re here to provide extremely mild amusement in another Trope Tuesday, our weekly foray into the world of TV Tropes to investigate the literary devices and themes that make our favorite entertainment chug along. Or in the case of Continuity Snarl, grind to a screeching halt.

A Shared Universe can become a very confusing place, and the longer they exist, the more confusing they can become. As new creators come on board and take over, continuity eventually gets tangled, convoluted, and increasingly difficult to pick through. Sometimes, it gets to the point that not even the fans who write Wikipedia articles understand what is and isn’t in canon.

It goes something like this: in the beginning, The Universe is created, and it’s a blank slate. Everything’s new; as such, the creators can do whatever they want to do, create whatever they want to create, throw everything in and have fun doing so. Whatever works, works and whatever doesn’t, doesn’t. So far, so good.

However, the whole idea of a Shared Universe is that different creative teams will eventually take over. Sometimes Writer A of Title A will leave and Writer B will take over, while at other times Writer A’s character will guest star or make a Cameo apearance in Writers B’s title. People being people, those different creators will have their own ideas. They’ll have different ideas about what the ‘verse should be, about what has worked and what hasn’t, what might work and what doesn’t.

The longer that this goes on and as more teams take over, the more chance there is of a Continuity Snarl.

When canon becomes too involved and self-contradictory, it starts denying new writers “room to move.” When writers disagree strongly with what previous writers before them have added to the mix and are overly keen on using continuity to get rid of them (or attack the other writer), then the snarl may come from the writers being Armed With Canon. If worse comes to worst, the writers may simply perform a Continuity Reboot, discarding the old continuity completely and starting over from scratch. (Everything you read or watched before? It never happened! You imagined it! Either that, or it wasAll Just a Dream.)

Holy wall of text, Batman. So let’s try and distill that down a bit, shall we? A Continuity Snarl is pretty much what happens when different books/comics/games/films/television shows in a universe start conflicting with each other. Suddenly a new piece of material comes out that directly contradicts some older material. Say hello, Republic Commando controversy.

As many of you know, Lucasfilm actually employs someone by the name of Leland Chee who (among other things) is responsible for keeping tabs on continuity and canon, helping to ensure that new material doesn’t trample over old material. Or helping put together retcons for when snarls do happen.

Now, if you’re looking for a book that deftly manages to avoid the pitfalls of twenty years of Expanded Universe continuity, you may want to give X-Wing: Mercy Kill a try.

It’s Tuesday, and that means you suckers are barely 2/5ths of the way through the work week. So why don’t we alleviate the tedium by diving into Tosche Station’s favorite waste-of-time on the web, TV Tropes! This week, we’re taking a look at the Villainous Breakdown:

The tendency of relatively calm and composed villains to lose their cool over the course of the story. Usually happens to arrogant Chessmaster-typevillains (especially if said villain is a Smug Snake), as control of the situation slips from his or her grasp and things come up that they Didn’t See Coming. Most notable when it happens towards the end of the story to show how pathetic the Big Bad is when things are not going exactly as planned (“This Cannot Be!!”). Especially apparent if they previously had Creepy Monotone or Dissonant Serenity, and suddenly start Chewing the Scenery(when they do this because their plan is succeeding, it’s more of a case of Drunk on the Dark Side). Thus, a Villainous Breakdown is frequently a trigger for a One-Winged Angel transformation.

Similar to Oh Crap, though the difference lies in that Oh Crap moments involve a single moment where the character finds that they are screwed, while Villainous Breakdowns have them see it coming from miles away. The good-guy counterpart is the Heroic BSOD.

Since we’ve been tying these tropes into the X-Wing series lately, let’s take a look at the two primary villains from the first seven books. Through the Stackpole novels, there was Ysanne Isard. There were a few moments in The Bacta War that were textbook examples of this trope in motion, such as the instance where she flips the frak out when one of her Star Destroyer captains defects to the New Republic. Meanwhile in the Allston novels, we have Solo Command, which is pretty much Warlord Zsinj’s Villainous Breakdown stretched out brilliantly over the course of the novel.

When things go bad for villains, they go really bad.

I just plotted six ways to take over the world in the last five minutes.

After a week off (unintentional, mind), we’re back with another edition of Trope Tuesday, our weekly sojourn into the great timesink in the cloud that is TV Tropes. We’ve got another trope lined up that’s relevant to our ongoing X-Wing retrospective: The Xanatos Gambit.

A Xanatos Gambit is a plan whose multiple foreseen outcomes all benefit its creator. It’s a win-win situation for whoever plots it.

At its most basic, the Xanatos Gambit assumes two possible outcomes for the one manipulated — success or failure. The plan is designed in such a way that either outcome will ultimately further the plotter’s goals.

Since the Xanatos Gambit can involve an obvious goal’s apparent failure, this is a convenient device on an ongoing series to let the villain occasionally win (preventing Villain Decay) while still giving the heroes a climactic pseudo-victory. The only way to escape a Xanatos Gambit once you’re caught up in one is by somehow foiling both presented options and leaving the organizer thoroughly beaten.

One of my favorite examples of this trope takes place in The Krytos Trap. You would think that the Rogues capturing Coruscant would be a bad thing for Ysanne Isard, but no, you would be mistaken. That was just one way she could prove to be victorious, because on her way out she infected the planet’s alien species with a disease intended to create an unwinnable political disaster for the New Republic. That was just one of her contingency plans to ensure her victory. Unfortunately, she didn’t quite account for the Rogues knack for beating insurmountable odds.

Guy Fleegman knows things are about to get ugly

It’s Tuesday! There really isn’t much of a reason to be excited for Tuesday beyond the fact that it’s the day after Monday, which means you’re slightly closer to the weekend but not close enough to actually care. If you really stop and think about it, Tuesday is an exceedingly dull day. It’s not dreadful like Mondays, and it doesn’t even get you to the half-way mark like Wednesdays. What gives, Tuesdays? Be less dull.

To alleviate the usual Tuesday tedium, we like to run a segment we call Trope Tuesday. Every week we look at a literary device or theme that makes the entertainment we love work. This week, we’re investigating a trope called Genre Savvy.

The exact opposite of Genre Blindness. A Genre Savvy character doesn’t necessarily know they’re in a story, but they do know of stories like their own and what worked in them and what didn’t. More sophisicated versions will also know they can’t tell which genre they are in (and are often in far more realistic or complicated genres that the stories they remember), or which characters they are.

They know every Simple Plan is doomed to failure from the start and instead of participating, sit back and wait to get in their “I told you so”, or even a “We Could Have Avoided All This“. They can spot someone being controlled by Puppeteer Parasite from a mile away (usually). They’re more likely to listen when they catch someone in a compromising position who sputters “It’s Not What It Looks Like!”.

They can tell fairly early that the strange old man who’s offering free lollipops is probably best avoided. And they’ve seen enough Horror movies to know that when there’s an ax murderer on the loose, the last thing you want to do is either splitup, boink your significant other, or investigate strange noises in the Sinister Subway. They know how to avoid getting a bad rank on the Sorting Algorithm of Mortality.

The Genre Savvy live to hang lampshades, give Aside Glances, and say, “You just had to say it, didn’t you?” right after use of a Tempting FateStock Phrase. Their exasperation with the sheer stupidityof the entire universe usually makes them a Deadpan Snarker. They are likely to be told that This Is Reality or just ignored, and likely to be the one who always wanted to say that.

I’ve never bothered to hide the fact that I am extraordinarily fond of Aaron Allston’s entries into the Star Wars Expanded Universe. A big reason for that is he (and his characters) demonstrate a wonderful amount of genre savvy. Executed well, this trope can add just the right amount of humor to a scene and is a good way to break up dark and gritty plot for a bit. Or it can be used to call attention to an expected trope and then subvert it. Take, for example, this line from Tyria Sarkin in Wraith Squadron:

Tyria: This isn’t going to be one of those squadrons with one female pilot that all the men are chasing, isn’t it?

Then of course you’ve got Allston’s Ben Skywalker, a lampshade hanging machine that clearly inherited the Genre Savvy gene from his mother.

Greatest example of this trope, however? Pretty much the entirety of Galaxy Quest.

Don’t even start, you two.

It’s Tuesday, which means that we’re not even halfway through the work week. Now isn’t that a depressing thought? To alleviate some of your despair, we bring you another edition of Trope Tuesday, a weekly sojourn into the literary devices and themes that make entertainment fun (and gives us an excuse to use alliteration in a recurring segment, also fun). This week, we’re examining the Hurricane of Puns.

A sudden, protracted volley of puns. Approach this technique with caution, as viewer nausea (or a lynch mob) may be a side-effect.

In a Sitcom, a Hurricane Of Puns often appears after one or two characters have done something embarrassing and decide to not talk about it. Naturally, every conversation they have is rife with unintentional puns and Freudian Slips that go unnoticed by others but drive them to sheer panic.

On the other hand, sometimes these storms approach from the opposite direction… One person cracks a pun, another feels the urge to one-up it, and so it goes until the ammunition is exhausted and the puns fall silent.

Rarely, someone will just rattle off a string of puns for the hell of it.

Puns are a dangerous form of comedy, and it takes a good hand to make them into something that won’t incite a mass groan of disapproval. Doing this repeatedly is even riskier, as it requires an amazing level of ability to play straight on most television aimed at mature viewers.

Normally, I hate puns. That’s a product of having grown up with friends that loved them. I hate puns because even the most innocent of conversations would give my friends a cue to drop them. You’re having a conversation about, say, The Avengers and they’ll suddenly say “Well I hope this movie is Loki.” And then they stare at you, grinning like an idiot, expecting you to be amused by their latest “clever” turn of phrase when all you really want to do is bludgeon them to within an inch of their life for dropping the eighteenth pun in the last ten minutes worth of conversation.

But I digress

I hate puns because they’re often used excessively by people and are extraordinarily forced in conversation. Now, when it’s used well, a pun can be great. Let’s look at an exchange from one of my favorite Expanded Universe novels, Starfighters of Adumar. In this scene, the band of heroes are talking to a documentary filmmaker with a camera made out of a droid’s head:

Janson grinned at her. “Some days make you just want to beat your heads against a wall, don’t they?”

Hobbie said, “Maybe not. The young lady might not have her heads on straight, after all.”

Tycho said, “Still, I think she ought to get her heads examined.”

Wedge looked at them, appalled.

Oh Wedge. I feel your pain.

Status: Ascended

Welcome to another edition of Trope Tuesday, where we dive headfirst into the land of wasted productivity and tab explosions: TV Tropes. This week, we’re investigated a trope called The Ascended Extra.

A minor character who is given a greatly expanded role in the later part of the series, a new adaptation of a story, or in the Expanded Universe. It is usually safer to do this with an otherwise obscure character without much depth, since the likelihood of creating plot contradictions is lower. On the other hand, the character may or may not be allowed to have a huge effect on the plot depending on how much the writer is trying to follow source material. Can lead to some bizarre incongruities in planning (e.g. Overtook the Manga, Restricted Expanded Universe). Sometimes the minor character becomes an Ascended Extra just so the writers can immediately turn them into a Sacrificial Lion.

This naturally occurs as a series goes on for long periods of time and useful for filler, technically not requiring you invent someone whole cloth. Be warned however that this character might be more liked by the fandom than the writers, who may have no compunction with getting rid of them when convenient.

This also happens somewhat regularly in Fan Fiction. Stories about a minor character who is given his own subplot (or prequel, sequel, or AU) seem to be ‘training wheels’ for writers who don’t quite trust themselves with original fiction yet and are re-using the setting, but basically making up new characters.

Happens a lot in fan fiction, eh? Let me tell you about the 600 pages of writing I’ve devoted to this character …

But yes, the Ascended Extra is a trope that is absolutely vital to things like the Expanded Universe. Occasionally you need a familiar tie-in to the source material in the films, but squeezing Luke, Han, and Leia into yet another novel doesn’t quite fit the story. This is where authors might look for a minor character from the movies that they can bring to the forefront. You’ll see varying degrees of success. Sometimes the guy who says “stand by” when the Death Star is about to fire gets the Ascended Extra status, leading fans to scratch their heads in confusion and ask “Why?” Other times, however, the minor character becomes a key component of the Expanded Universe.

You’re probably aware that we’re doing a summer retrospective of the X-Wing books. This trope was practically built for it, folks. Take Wedge Antilles (you know, fighter pilot, survived three movies) and put him at the forefront of a nine-book series. Sounds like a terrible idea, right? Wrong. When the Ascended Extra trope is executed well and with the right character, an author can craft something that truly resonates with readers. There’s a reason Wedge Antilles, Hobbie Klivian, and Wes Janson are fan favorites in the Expanded Universe. It’s a combination of the familiar and new, characters that tie into established material but have enough room to be fleshed out they almost feel new to the universe.

It’s Tuesday, which means we’re delving back into TV Tropes to talk about an amusing or just quirky literary device that makes the entertainment we love work. This week, we’re investigating a trope called In the Blood.

Genealogy and Ancestry are really popular tropes in fiction. It makes a great Secret Legacy, a source of fraternal conflict, adds drama with an unexpected family reunion, and can set up a host of different conflicts and relationships. Just like in real life, a person’s ancestry can determine their genes and, to a lesser extent, their personality and even their talents; but in fiction this extends to skills, superpowers, and even moral alignment.

Sometimes even The Messiah and the most valiant Knight in Shining Armor are at risk of going insane, or over to The Dark Side, if a parent or grandparent was a Villain by Default or member of an Evil Race. This inevitably leads said character into a Wangstyexistential crisis that comes completely out of left field, since they rarely ever struggled against villainous impulses before this revelation.

Boy howdy, where do you even start with this one when it comes to Star Wars? You’ve got your various generations of the Skywalker and Solo bloodlines, all sorts of Hapan royalty, and who knows how many Fetts. Sometimes, there are certain traits that seem to carry on from generation to generation. Young Ben Skywalker definitely inherited his mother’s snark. If you look at the Antilles family, one daughter became a pilot like Wedge and the other daughter went into intelligence work like Iella.

Occasionally generational ties provide a familiar touchstone that can bridge from one age group to the next. Aaron Allston has said as much when he’s discussed the importance of the Antilles sisters in more recent Expanded Universe works.

Warrior enough for you?

It’s Tuesday, which means countless individuals will spend their lunch breaks racing to the nearest restaurant to purchase tacos for consumption. It also means we’re going to use alliteration as an excuse to dive headfirst into TV Tropes to talk about an amusing literary theme or device that makes entertainment fun. This week, we’re looking at the Proud Warrior Race Guy.

A specific subtrope of Blood Knight, the Proud Warrior Race Guy seeks battle and bloodshed because his culture teaches that doing so is the greatest source of personal honor and glory. This Proud Warrior Race will often be based on one of several real world cultures who are perceived to have acted this way, such as the Samurai, Spartans, Vikings, and Mongols. They are often a Martyrdom Culture. The Proud Warrior Race Guy is almost always a hero. If evil, he will probably be the Worthy Opponent.

“Proud”, in this case, meaning “Psychotically Violent”. Critiques of this position will be met with: “You donotunderstand“. May occasionally overlap with the Always Chaotic Evil race, though the two are usually differentiated by the Proud Warrior having a strict Code-of-Honor, while the Chaotic Evil race has no real rules and does cowardly or underhanded things. If the Code-of-Honor is too alien for humans to understand, or too xenophobic to allow cooperation, then the heroes will treat the two groups as the same. The better sort of Code of Honor will enforce Would Not Shoot a Civilian, although often because civilians are dismissed as too weak and cowardly to be good fighters, and so they get passed over in the search for worthy enemies.

Sound familiar? In the setting of the Expanded Universe, you’ve got the Mandalorians and the Yuuzhan Vong. The Echani from Knights of the Old Republic also fits the bill. I’m sure you can name a dozen examples from other science fiction franchises that features a character or a race of characters that fall under this description. This is a trope you have to be careful with. Go overboard and it comes off as campy. Unless your intention is to come off as campy, then by all means, go overboard.

There’s actually a novel that’s devoted to deconstructing this trope, Starfighters of Adumar by Aaron Allston.

Wedge: “Circular thinking. I’m honorable because I kill the enemy, and I kill the enemy for the honor. There’s nothing there, Cheriss. Here’s the truth: I kill the enemy so someone, somewhere — probably someone I’ve never met and never will meet – will be happy. […] I told you how I lost my parents. Nothing I ever do can make up for that loss. But if I put myself in the way of people just as bad as the ones who killed my family, if I burn them down, then someone else they would have hurt gets to stay happy. That’s the only honorable thing about my profession. It’s not the killing. It’s making the galaxy a little better.”

Now, I dare Wedge to say that to Worf.