From: The New Lost

Yet another Mystery Box in a Bottle show in the same vein as Lost, Dark, 1899, Yellowjackets, and their great grandaddy, the kids show Land of the Lost.

All throw mysteries about like confetti, but not all deliver satisfying answers.

Part of the fun of watching a show like this is trying to put the puzzle pieces together and gain a deeper understanding of what the show is about. Lost famously dropped the ball at the finish line, 1899 got cancelled after one season, while Yellowjackets burned through my goodwill even faster; Dark is the only one that stuck the landing.

Will From?

I have no idea, but it’s a highly addictive, bingeable show: I went through all three seasons over Christmas break. 

It’s about a town from which there is, seemingly, no escape. The road goes in, and as you leave, you find yourself entering again. It’s impossible, a mind bending mystery for both the audience and characters to ponder. 

Yet another Mystery Box in a Bottle show in the same vein as Lost, Dark, 1899, Yellowjackets, and their great grandaddy, Land of the Lost.

Not being able to leave unfortunately is the least of the drafted inhabitants problems: of higher concern are the smiling, easy going fifties archetypes who stroll about town at night, issuing bland platitudes and inquiries… until they get close to you, and then they morph into lamprey mouthed horrors and rip your face off. Okay, okay, they actually leave faces intact, they just disembowel their prey, sometimes after playing with it, like a cat with a mouse. A deep rooted sadism lies behind their cheery demeanour. 

Residents avoid being torn to bits at night by putting a small rune stone (otherwise known as talisman stones) by their door: so long as its hanging, the ‘vampires’ cannot get in. How very convenient! A show about unwashed, smelly, dishevelled, desperate people hiding in dirty bolt holes would be unappealing. The vampires don’t even try to force the windows, even though they have superhuman strength and are practically invulnerable: they shrug off bullets like raindrops. 

The town is presided over by Boyd Stevens, a 30-year army veteran who’s got a lot of experience at managing chaos, having set up and managed bases in the world’s worst trouble spots. Boyd sets the place in order: he’s the one who finds the stones that allow people to live in the houses, rather than trying to hide in random nooks and crannies, with nothing but hope and crossed fingers to protect them. 

So as insane as the circumstances of the town when the show starts, it’s a step up from what it’d been. We enter the story 96 days after the last ‘incident’ (ie. horrible death), with two vehicles: one carrying a tech founder, Jade, and his minion, and the other a camper van carrying the Matthews clan: Jim, Tabitha, Julie (16?) and Ethan (6?). They almost crash into each other, naturally: this show thrives on drama and danger as well as mystery. 

Victor knows this best: he's been in town since he was 8, when his mom and sister, and all the other residents, got butchered in the streets. Victor, now middle aged, is really weird. Go figure.

The Town

The town is very small: one main street, with a church, several houses, a diner, a motel sign beside an empty swimming pool (other than the crashed truck in it), a gas station, a post office that serves as a police station, and a barn without a farm house. It’s an odd mix of buildings. 

They’re augmented by Colony House, up on a hill outside town, and a small high school that serves as a hospital. Season 2 adds an automated lighthouse and ruins that revert to a building when entered by Boyd or Julie. Season 3 introduces 3 abandoned long cabins further out, surrounded by spooky wards.

The church is the oldest looking structure in town, possibly hundreds of years old, going by the look of it, probably the same era as the abandoned log cabins. The diner and post office look the most modern; the decrepit gas station is maybe 1930s. Colony House looks like turn of the century architecture, while the high school is probably from the 50’s or 60’s. 

The town can be viewed on Google maps, but it’s not quite the same as the in universe one. You can see a model of town differs from the real world, eliminating roads and adding rugged terrain behind the gas station. Or is the model a giveaway that this is all an experiment presided over by Kenny?

At first I thought this might all be some kind of virtual simulation, like Harsh Realm (oh yeah, spoilers), but season 3 has disabused me of this now quaint notion. The show’s firmly set in the supernatural, which means no logical explanations are necessary. Fantasy can do anything, but that said, it’s far more satisfying when the fantasy world follows rules we can make sense of.

So let’s join Dale and dive into the mystery pool!

SPOILERVILLE AHEAD

What we know:

We learned at the end of season three that the vampires (Yes, I’m going to call the creatures vampires) sacrificed children to a demonic being in exchange for immortality. Like a classic genie, the demon gave them what they asked for, but not quite what they wanted. 

Jade and Tabitha are reincarnations of a married couple that died trying to liberate the children from their purgatory, the last time two cars came in on the same day, some 50 years earlier. I had been betting on Tabitha actually being Eloise, but she has a mom (introduced in season 3, on the phone), and as yet there is no indication she was adopted.

According to Victor, when the seven children laid on the stones to be sacrificed, 'they poured their hopes into the roots above that formed the symbol, and the roots became the (Farway) tree." The Boy in White tells (Christopher) he has to go through the tree, but Christopher wouldn’t listen, that jerk. So Victor tells his mom, and she goes off and gets promptly killed by Smiley the Joker fan. Cue 50 years later, when Tabitha and Jade arrive, reincarnated, to do the whole cycle all over again. 

...yet mysteries still abound: 

1) The number of people in town seems larger than the number of houses available. Is there another street somewhere? Doesn’t seem to be. The extras seem to change from show to show, too. This may simply be an issue with sloppy or difficult production issues.

2) Boyd and Kenny both carry badges, but there was originally no police station in town: it was post office. So where did they get the badges? Where did they get their guns? Where did they find the keys to the buildings?

3) Why is there a motel sign without a motel? Were the buildings pulled at random?

4) Why don’t the creatures set fires and burn the town residents out of their homes? One good fire would take down the rickety wooden Colony House. There’s no fire department. The creatures are clever and will lay traps. They seem to understand technology. They also seem somewhat robotic, like they are running on limited scripts, which limit their initiative. They could smash the greenhouse, kill all the animals, burn the crops, but they don't. Do they need the humans as a food source? They went 96 days without any fresh meat, though, so it doesn't seem to be a sustenance issue. So why do they kill people? Shits and giggles? Are they simply sadistic? They live such incredibly empty, barren lives, wandering around town tapping on windows and making banal comments, trying to lure people outside so they can eat them. What a seriously crappy immortality. 

5) All the vampires wear 1950’s and 1960’s themed clothing: milkman, cheerleader, librarian, nurse, mechanic, sixties twiggy, cowboy, jock. Yet there’s no postman in the set, no diner cooks, no waitresses, farmers, priests, high school teachers, or police officers. There’s no medical building in town, yet there's a nurse. So… are the town buildings a mish mash lifted from different eras and plopped down together in a pocket universe? Did the post office workers not go along with the immortality thing? Did the nurse work out of town? Would it have been common to commute in rural mid-century America? Why don’t the buildings match the vampires roles? Do the vamps have names? One called herself Jasmine. What about the others? Why not label them? How many are there? I have so many questions.

6) Father Khatri arrived first. He gave the few desperate residents hope. Boyd came next: he provides order and some measure of normality. Jade and Jim follow: one a tech guru, the other an engineer, who can empower the residents in all new ways. Were they chosen for that purpose? Is there a deliberate selection process? If so, why did the gods that be get angry when they started to experiment? Or were they chosen by different entities (The Boy in White?), ones at odds with the powers that be? 

7) Speaking of which, who’s the Boy in White? He looks like he walked off a cricket field, and not at all like a child who escaped being sacrificed. Is he a good spirit in opposition to Yellow Suit?

8) The old white guy in the cheap yellow suit seems to be the dark power behind the whole place, and he’s as worn and rough as the boy in white is clean and sparkly. Yellow Suit looks like he just stumbled out of a dive bar after a week long drinking binge, with an attitude born of a hangover from hell. This bodes well for next season: they’ll very likely toss out a few crumbs relating to his nature, now that he’s appeared in the flesh. Who is he? And more importantly, why is he orchestrating all of this? It seems like a lot of work for someone who can't be bothered to have his suit cleaned. Just saying.

9) Jade had a vision of an angry Civil War soldier, along with a bunch of dismembered troops hanging from a tree in bits. He also saw an early English colonist (circa 1660) nailed to a tree, and, later, drinking blood out of a skull, because that's just what you do when you're an apparition. This area has been messed up for a long, long time. 

10) What was lurking around the log cabins at night? It wasn’t the vampires, so what? Mystery goats? Giant spiders? Ghosts? Production staff? Fans exploring the site? Moose? There are a lot of moose in Nova Scotia.

11) What’s with the spiders? Boyd goes through a forest wrapped in webs trying to reach the lighthouse, rather like on Guam, which is overrun with the eight legs. 

12) What the heck is with the whole music box subplot, and the ballerina? That has to be the whackiest, random thing in the show so far. It was more goofy than spooky. And why did it bring 3 new people into the not-ruin, and subject them to yelling? 

13) Who the hell is Martin the Marine, the guy tied up in the ancient ruin (in its intact state, which can only be accessed by collapsing screaming and having an epileptic fit, apparently). What’s with his magic worm infested blood that kills creatures and births cicadas? 

14) Why is Randall the only one to keep seeing the cicadas? 

15) Who's maintaining the magic lighthouse, and why was there a toy ambulance on the stairway along with playing cards? Is it because that's what will bring Tabitha back to From in the following season? It's a portent, right? Why does getting pushed out of the lighthouse teleport you to a park in Maine, even though it's clearly Nova Scotia?

16) Why is the place shifting to winter from fall so suddenly, after being stuck in summer for 50 years? It wasn't winter outside Fromville... is it now winter there? Is this going to be more of a giveaway that something's not right, when newcomers arrive and find themselves switching from summer to winter, all of a sudden? Mind you, instantaneous temperature shifts can be very hazardous to one's health...

17) Why do the lamps and telephones have no wires, just wire wrappings? Why do these empty tubes go straight down into the earth, to the caves inhabited by the monsters? Why are the electrical outlets useless?

18) They have running water... where do the pipes go? Are the stoves and ovens electrical or gas?

19) What do they do for soap? Shampoo? Toothpaste? Cleaning dishes? Laundry? Why are there no laundry lines outside, or drying clothes inside?

20) Why doesn't every house have a garden? 

21) Animals simply appeared in the woods, a few cows and a bunch of goats, but where did they come from? There are only 2 cows, which is not sufficient as a breeding population, and it's been 50 plus years since the massacre of the town when Victor was a child. Those would be some very old cows, inbred younguns, or out-of-towners. It's like the place is being stocked occasionally, like pouring food into a fish tank. Something introduced the animals. Who? Or what? And why? Are they trying to establish some kind of (semi) functional equilibrium between the vampires and the towns people? 

22) Why are some people seeing ghosts of dead characters? Khatri and the bartender, for example?

The whole thing with the music and the bottle trees, into which the children poured their hopes, is pretty… bonkers. Jade worked out the tune from the notes in the bottles, then played the music on Victor's violin, which summoned both the children and the Man in Yellow. So.. the bottle tree mystery is kind of sort of solved, but I don’t feel particularly satisfied. Maybe an apertif would help? If this is the kind of answer we can expect for the rest of the show’s mysteries, I’ll be nonplussed. 

That said, I have enjoyed the acting, the mysteries, and the drama so far, so maybe this is all about the journey, and not the destination. 

From: The Drinking Game

Every time someone says to another character, 'it's not your fault' or 'everyone's just doing their best', take a swig. You'll be drunk in no time.

Demons of El Dorado - Part 7, er, 11?

EDIT: Whoops, it's been so long I forgot I already published this on the blog several years ago. I have the remainder in screenplay format, but I've never put it into full prose. Maybe a project for a rainy month...? Or NaNoWriMo...

COAST OF TRINIDAD 

Sails unfurled, the six heavily loaded Brigantines slipped along the lush green coast, towards South America and the Orinoco River. 

Luis sat on the bulwark and watched the soldiers. Their gear was rolled up beneath their seats. They sang martial songs as they rowed. 

They had thirty arquebusiers, thirty crossbowmen, and at least sixty trained pikemen. On top of that were five greyhound war dogs and six horses. Not a significant army by European standards, but then, Cortez had brought down the Aztec Empire with under a thousand men. 

The air, clear and fresh, rushed over them. Beneath the water’s sparkling surface, Luis watched schools of multi-coloured fish darted about like living rainbows. 

He ran his fingers over the leather cover of a book cradled in his lap. It was the diary of a priest, Philip de Riverra, who had accompanied the expedition of Hernan Perez de Quesada into the Orinoco river basin. Professor Martin de Apilcueta Navarro had let Luis purchase it for a few ducats back in Salamanca, from his personal library. Luis thought it might have been of interest to his father, but had forgotten to pass it on. Philip had died of malaria in 1543, and had been demoralized for some time. Much of his writing, according to Navarro, was unreliable, even fantastical, more a product of fever than real events. But it was the best source of first had information Luis currently had access to. Abuljar only spoke to Bartome, and even that he did rarely. 

Luis settled a broad brimmed leather hat on his head, then cracked open the book to a random page. 

He began to read:

“August 5^th, 1542: We have been exploring inland, due South from the third major river fork. Always Quesada choses South. He believes there is yet a civilization to be found in this dark, oppressive jungle. It devours us without qualm, as it would any attempt at establishing order and sanity. The jungle is a beast, an entity, a living force, just one with a thousand thousand manifestations, all guided by an ill will. At first, I saw it as a bewildering, chaotic jumble of vines and trees and bugs and slithering reptiles. But it has personality. Will. And it is eating us up, one by one, felling us with sickness and madness. 

Jose died yesterday of a snakebite. He stepped in between a fallen tree and a rock, and it struck him in the ankle. I tried to suck out the poison to no avail. His death was merciful and quick. Those of us who continue on are wracked by dysentery, the more water we consume the more we expel. After three years, I am but a shadow of my former self. We have no mirrors. Only the rippling reflection in the river, and the man I see there is not one I recognize. 

There is no end to the wretched jungle. It lies over the earth like the rotting corpse of a pagan god. I fear eventually finding ourselves facing a solid wall of curling vegetation, vines so thick they throttle the trees and snuff out the light of the sun. 

August 10^th, 1542: During the night there was a commotion.

We gathered wood before nightfall to make a camp fire, and to cook some of the small mammals our crossbows had felled for dinner. Overhead great shadows flew over us, one after another, but we could not get a good look at their source. The trees are at least eighty feet, and with the sky already dim, it all merged into a single mass of darkness, only with faint speckles of light seeping through gaps. Soon those too were gone, and we were left with the cluster of campfires. We keep them lit throughout the night now, to keep the beasts back. They fear the fire. But some of the men do not like being crowded in beside it, and lay further away, at the edge of its light. I was awoken by shouts of alarm. It was just as well, for I was having that dreadful nightmare again. What awaited me was little better. 

A great black beast had landed on Martin, one of the few of our number still healthy. We could hear it making wet, slurping sounds and grunting. It was a bat, so large and horrific we at first took it to be a demon in the flickering light of our torches. I cannot describe the feeling of horror that seized me. It was the size of a large dog, with thick, knotted black fur, and a flattened, pig like face, with fangs and great veined ears. Sanchez ran his saber through its back so far he nicked Martin. The beast squealed and thrashed about. Martin is lucky we did not set it alight with the torches. Sanchez hauled it off and jabbed it in the neck with a knife until it stopped moving. 

There was much shouting, but none of that woke Martin, who lay in a blissful slumber so deep we feared he would never awaken. There were bite marks on his throat, where the creature had affixed itself. We splashed water in his face and slapped him, until finally he was roused. He described a dream in which he was atop a great, gold pyramid, looking down at supplicating worshippers below. I did not tell him I have had the same dream. I had the men lay the beast out, stretching out its leathery wings, and stepped along the length. I counted twelve feet. We will make sacks out of the wings, or perhaps patches for our boots; when Sanchez cut it open its belly, black blood jetted out; not its own, but Martins. The body we cooked. The meat was tender and delicious. Better than the bugs we’d been eating: big iridescent green monsters, weighing almost two pounds each. Something unholy about how large and distorted God’s creation is here. I hesitate to imagine what form indigenous man would take, here in this hellish jungle.

August 15^th, 1542: The bats left us alone for three days while we crossed a swamp, which was a wretched experience. The leeches concentrated upon my groin, and the filthy brine stank like an open sewer. There were mercifully none of those small predatory fish, and only a few curious crocodiles that our pikes turned easily away. We only lost one porter. I saw the our gold pursuers again, speckles sliding beneath black water, hinting at great hideous shapes. I’d say it was my mind playing tricks, paranoia, but the others saw it too, and fired crossbow bolts. Quesada put a stop to that, as ammunition is in short supply. No one yet has seen what is following us. It could be harmless.

We are but a faint echo of the men who entered this endless green waste. Covered in red welts, our clothes hanging like tents, full of lice, it is a wonder any of us still lives. 

Pity the civilization that fears conquerors such as us. 

August 17^th, 1542:There were two attacks last night. We are once again beneath the canopy, and here the bats seem to prefer to strike. The men nervous, and understandably so. There is talk that we are nearing the end of the world, perhaps even the Gates of Hell. I know that Aguirre reached the coast, through this very jungle, so there must be an end to it. Quesada has given orders for halberds to be set in the ground, pointing up, over us while we sleep, and doubled the night watch. We’re too exhausted to create greater defenses, there’s simply no strength left for it. 

We proceed onward by will alone, the unknown pursuing us, death waiting ahead.

Luis shut the book and listened to the men, who were now chattering, exuberant, eager for the adventure that lay ahead. They joked and laughed in the breezy ocean air. 

He got up and made his way towards Rodrigo and Angel who were at the bow, basking in sea foam. Rodrigo nodded at Luis as he drew near. “Finally got your nose out of a book, eh? As I was saying: we’ll sail through the night.” He put a hand on Angel’s shoulder. “Have shifts set up. de Berrio will send ships after us, if he’s at all like his father.”

Angel grunted agreement. “Once the son of a bitch gets his pants on.”

ICACOS POINT

 

Booming waves drowned out the shouts of men. Luis was wedged between two soldiers, and rowed like mad against powerful cross currents that threatened to dash them into rocks. All pretense of status and rank had been cast aside in the struggle for survival. 

The fleet surged upward atop a bulging swell and began to shift sideways. 

The stern was partly obscured by mist and slashing water, but Luis could still make out Rodrigo and Angel, who held on to the rudder for all they were worth, their teeth grit, faces showing the strain of a three hour long ordeal. 

Luis struggled not to vomit. 

He wasn’t successful.