Author

Kara Dennison

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Arthurian legend is one of my favorite subjects. It’s full of magic and romance and absolutely ludicrous action. It’s a giant patchwork of characters from all across the centuries. Essentially, it’s its own fanfic, albeit with a few true-to-life elements here and there.

Every few years, someone comes along wanting to tell the “real” story of King Arthur Or at least a new spin on one of the potential realities. At this point, we have just as much proof that he was real as we do that he wasn’t. Perhaps he was a Roman soldier who defected, perhaps he was a real king. Perhaps, like King Lear, he was a minor deity incarnated into human form through storytelling.

When I love a piece of entertainment, I love that piece of entertainment. I will probably ride alongside it through the gates of hell. And for the first few weeks after I’ve first encountered it, my friends and readers and coworkers will hear a lot about said piece of entertainment.

My latest obsession is Director’s Cut. Not sci-fi, but cult-y and off-the-beaten-path enough that it may well appeal to the geek set.

It’s also written and headlined by stage magician and social mythbuster Penn Jillette as part of a passion project. He fell in love with the “found footage” works of Adam Rifkin (the director of Look). Jillette wanted to team up with Rifkin to make his own work in that vein. He – Penn, that is – also wanted to play the villain.

Note: spoilers for the second season of Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, and for book nine of the original series, The Carnivorous Carnival, ahead.

Fandom, as a rule, attracts people who are playing life on Hard Mode. Be they physical ailments, mental illness, or regular encounters with prejudice, many of us come to the things we love as a means of escaping the inescapable. And it’s a wonderful thing. We meet more people like ourselves through our hobby. We’re able to empathize. And we get that escapism we desire.

But just as there are those in the world who would like to ridicule and denigrate us for what is different about us, there are those who go the other direction entirely.

And in an age in which we fight actively to be seen for our passions and talents, it’s sickeningly easy for an unscrupulous person to offer us what we want… with a catch.

Note: This piece contains heavy spoilers for Blade Runner 2049. If for some reason you’ve managed not to see it yet, please hold off on reading this until you have. Trust me. It’s worth it.

Hi, my name is Kara Dennison, and I’m once again the last person on the planet to see a Very Important Movie.

Blade Runner 2049 wasn’t on my Don’t Watch List by any means; it was just a matter of finding time to watch it and concentrate on everything it threw at me. Because, let’s be real, we all knew this was going to be a big one if they did it right.

The Ace Attorney series (known in its native Japan as Gyakuten Saiban, or “Turnabout Courtroom”) is one of the strangest video game success stories in pop culture. Created as satire, fueled by absurdity, and requiring lateral thinking that challenges even the cleverest players, it boasts multiple games and adaptations.

17 years since the first game came out in Japan, it’s something of an institution in and of itself. And while it’s fun for its ridiculous turns of events and its brain-teasing, there’s another skill that players gain without realizing it: the ability to protect themselves against gaslighting.

There is so much to talk about when it comes to Black Panther, both the film itself and its impact. 90% of those things, if not more, I’m highly unqualified to talk about as a white-passing Lebanese girl. I encourage all of Sartorial Geek’s readers to look around at what the black community – especially young viewers – have to say about the film.

In the areas I do feel qualified to talk in – representation of women, depiction of “fantasy tech,” and nailing the Rule of Cool – they’re still on the ball. And I could happily write dozens of essays on everything this film did right, and all the scenes I’d point to as examples for future writers.

One of my absolute favorite things to come out of 21st century entertainment is Black Mirror. Headed and largely penned by presenter and professional geek Charlie Brooker, the anthology series traces disconnected stories within a sandbox universe similar to our own. The big difference? Technology is much more active and versatile than our own.

It can be gratifying for those viewers tired of Instagram “influencers” and heads hunched over smartphones during social outings to see the wired among us get our comeuppance. Various episodes see social media addicts lose their social standing in a public meltdown. Vicious hashtag games turn around and sting their participants, and talent show addicts swept into the true nastiness of the entertainment industry.

Whether you’re a writer, a painter, a sculptor, a cosplayer, or any of the other was you can express yourself creatively, you are sure to have one thing in common with your fellow creators: doubt. Doubt, and big nasty burning hills of it. It comes with the territory.

“Am I really talented?” “Am I just ripping off the creators I like?” “Are my friends just saying they like my work because they’re my friends?” “Why do people only like my work when I copy current trends?” All things we will ask ourselves at least once a week, no matter how well we’re doing or how polished our work is. And then every few months, we hit a spiral. You know the one: where you don’t want to lift your pen or sit at your computer, where nothing seems right, where you cannot convince yourself you have anything good to give.

URAHARA sympathizes, too. And it’s here to tell you you’re not alone – and that your hard work is worth it.