AEther Salon: Firefighters (Edited Transcript)

Posted By on November 18, 2015

[2015/11/15 14:01:28]  Baron Klaus Wulfenbach: Welcome, everyone, to November’s Aether Salon. We thank you for finding the time to attend, and hope you’ll enjoy today’s topic.
[2015/11/15 14:02:12]  Baron Klaus Wulfenbach: Fraulein Bookworm Hienrichs has collected some fascinating information on Firefighting for us today.
[2015/11/15 14:02:18]  Baron Klaus Wulfenbach: Before we begin, a few

AEther Salon:Firefighters (Edited Transcript)

Posted By on November 18, 2015

[2015/11/15 14:01:28]  Baron Klaus Wulfenbach (klauswulfenbach.outlander): Welcome, everyone, to November’s Aether Salon. We thank you for finding the time to attend, and hope you’ll enjoy today’s topic.
[2015/11/15 14:02:12]  Baron Klaus Wulfenbach (klauswulfenbach.outlander): Fraulein Bookworm Hienrichs has collected some fascinating information on Firefighting for us today.
[2015/11/15 14:02:

AEther Salon: Firefighters! (Unedited Transcript)

Posted By on November 18, 2015

[2015/11/15 14:01:28]  Baron Klaus Wulfenbach (klauswulfenbach.outlander): Welcome, everyone, to November’s Aether Salon. We thank you for finding the time to attend, and hope you’ll enjoy today’s topic.
[2015/11/15 14:01:42]  Emerson Lighthouse: Afternoon, Miss Hienrichs
[2015/11/15 14:01:45]  Emerson Lighthouse: /me waves
[2015/11/15 14:02:11]  Dee Wells Dagger (promiscute): /me waves to

Paris, Friday 13

Posted By on November 15, 2015

Tired of that time...
But imagination is not a refuge from reality, but a response.

Imagination is the part in us that no person or organization can destroy.
Our poetic universes, indestructible fortresses, can not be reach by death and horror.

Let us be stronger than them,
Let's dream.

Busy creating a new tool for my workshop…..the 3D router.

Posted By on November 8, 2015

I have created this from an instuctable by Paoson Woodwork.  It is worth taking a look at what he has created if you are a maker….you will want this machine!  The pieces of wood were just a test to calibrate the router.  Look at Paoson’s video to see the potential of this 3D router

An Interview With Derek Tatum – The Origins of #Dreadpunk

Posted By on November 4, 2015

The Punkettes are thrilled to introduce you to Derek Tatum, the man behind the recently coined term “Dreadpunk”. We reached out to Derek via twitter and he very graciously agreed to an interview.

I Didn’t Come Over On The Mayflower… But Some Of My Records Did, They’re THAT Old!

Posted By on November 1, 2015

Yes, 78 r.p.m. platter fans, here it is November first already, and the goblins are gone and the turkeys are coming and it’s time for the November Pilsner’s Picks (or Pilgrim’s Picks, as you’ll see when you go to the page).

I’ve started something new this month; and that is, asking for money. There’s still no charge for the music, but I’m now accepting voluntary contributions (which is a polite way to say “begging”). For a full explanation of why, and how you can toss a few shekels into my tin cup, go to—

AEther Salon: Planning! (Unedited Transcript)

Posted By on November 1, 2015

((This was the planning session, so no point in editing the transcript. *grin*))

[2015/10/18 14:04]  Solace Fairlady: Hello Admiral!:)

[2015/10/18 14:04]  Stereo Nacht: Good evening Admiral Beaumont!

[2015/10/18 14:04]  Garnet Psaltery: Hello Wild

[2015/10/18 14:04]  Wildstar Beaumont: greetings everybody !

[2015/10/18 14:04]  Baron Klaus Wulfenbach (klauswulfenbach.outlander): Good to see


Posted By on October 26, 2015

The clockwork screams, the cogs groan,
No tick-tocks, no hands roam,
Blood stained innards upon the grounds lie,
In the place where MURDERERS go when they die…
Cain stood back and looked over Gnomon, a machine of immense proportions, large enough to fill Grand Central Station, twiceor so he was told. It was his design, his life’s work of extraordinary purpose. When complete, Gnomon would change everything. So far, only one Gloom could pass through unharmed. And that wouldn’t do. Cain had legions of Glooms needing the machine.
He clutched the metallic frog atop his walking stick and did the Lindy Hop dance step toward a rusted clock arm. He leaned against it, his black coat tails dusting the ground. Littered around him were spare metal chronograph parts of various shapes and sizes, anything they could salvage. To onlookers it would appear a mash-up of clock innards. To Cain it was the most glorious sight to behold. It was as if these recycled time divisions held their purpose in Gnomon all along. Perhaps they had. 
His eyes trailed to the capsulator, seated high above the machine, lifted on stilts of ruble, things of no usebroken springs, little metal numbers, glass. The capsulator swelled and contracted like a lung filling with air. It was the heart of Gnomon, the way in. It wasn’t supposed to act this way. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. 
At the base of the behemoth machine, the Contractor worked, humming to himself as tufts of grey hair swayed with the bobbing of the man’s bulbous head. He was an unusual man, the Contractor. A cripple, hunched at the back and bent at the waist from years of work, his left arm absent flesh to his elbow. He bore a scar from ear to ear, cutting his nose in half and giving him the look of a perplexed pig. Like all Glooms, he was fated to live eternity with the scars he bestowed on others while alive. Cain made a mental note to ask the man about them sometime. 
All curiosity aside, his looks didn’t concern Cain. It was the man’s extraordinary talent that he sought. The Contractor was a genius. He spoke to metal as though it lived and breathed. He could build anything with his handswell, hand and clockwork handthat’s what Cain was counting on. Besides, if unusual looks were reason for alarm, then Cain should never take in his own reflection. He too was a Gloom, and half of his perfect face was missinga small reminder of what he had done. In its stead was a mechanical mastery, perhaps the most fantastical clockwork anyone had seen. He wore his face with pride, each click of his metal nostril reminding him of his accomplishment of merged flesh and machine. 
Cain cringed as the Contractor wrapped a loose chain from the pulley component around his skeletal arm. It had taken him far too long to come up with a system that would give the hunchback use of the damaged limb. But he had, and it was a work of art. Even from this angle you could scarcely see the metal screws twisting into ligaments that allow the Contractor to move his fingers like a puppet master. It would be a pity for that to be ruined. 
Cain adjusted his weight onto the balls of his feet and turned when he felt a tug on his sleeve. It was his body servant Napoleon. 
“Sir, we best be on our way.” The squat man shifted his stance and his pointy mouse-like nose wiggled as he sniffed. 
“Not yet, I need to be sure the Gatherers can re-enter the capsulator.”
“I’m sure they will, sir.” 
Cain waved his walking stick in a circle. “It’s the sanitarium harvest. It would be a shame if we lost our chance to take those lifetimes. The sick are ripe for plunder.” He leaned against his stick, looking down on his servant. “We’re on a tight schedule you know. We need to double our crown-wheel supply.” 
“Yes, sir. I know, sir.” 
Cain took a step forward in time to see the hunchback’s fingers slip. The Contractor clung to the chain and called to his assistants, “Get to the thrunge-plate before she blows.” He snapped his bulbous head toward Napoleon. “Get Father Cain away from here!” 
Before anyone could move, a small child, a coggling, slithered out from under a large copper-pieced boiler. Whether boy or girl they could not tell, for he/she/it was covered in sludge. 
“Oy, Sir, there be a problem at Gnomon’s heart.” The child raised their goggles revealing two white circles in which little eyes blinked.
“Didn’t you hear what I said?”
“Sorry sir?” 
“Nevermind,” the Contractor grumbled. “Just get to the capsulator, find the thrunge-plate and shut it down.” As if it was not obvious from his size compared to the tiny child’s, he added, “I can’t fit back there.” 
Before the child could leave, boiling droplets rained down on them, followed by a reverberating hiss as steam sliced through one of the twelve chimney tourniquets. They looked up in time to see another coggling, smaller than the first, slide down the rafter and apply pressure to the fissure with an old rag. Bolts loosened and flew past the child, creating a shower of metal as it ricocheted off Gnomon. 
“I can’t hold it, sir!” 
“Get down from there,” the Contractor yelled, “she’s gonna blow!” 
From between the piles of clock parts, a coggling appeared carrying a large metal pendulum. He raised it above his head and ran towards a patchwork gong suspended between two hollowed grandfather clock bodies. The momentum of the collision set forth a long resounding hum that thundered through Gnomon. It startled Cain and he stepped back on his toes. 
The child dragged the pendulum behind him and backed away. Then, once again, lifted it above his head and ran. Cain listened as matching sounds echoed off Gnomon. Soon he could distinguish at least fivefive coggling’s, somewhere in Gnomon, sounding an alarm. 
“Sir, please, it’s not safe here,” Napoleon repeated, his buckteeth clattering.
Cain tugged on his freshly ironed white collar and waved him away. “Go prepare the Elephantorius for return. Don’t forget to have the men wind it this time.” 
He watched as his body servant nodded and shuffled off, then turned his attention back to Gnomon.
A spray of steam blew Cain’s dark candlestick curls whipping about his face. He sheltered his true eye and watched the capsulator shift off its stilts and descend. A slow roar of whirling metal headed down atop the copper-pieced boiler, atop the small coggling. He slid forward, coat tails flapping, and extended his arms, his furthest reach, toward the child.

But the capsulator continued to fall and the behemoth Gnomon inhaled, sucking the coggling deeper into the machineaway from Cain.

“No!” he cried as Gnomon collapsed in a metal crunching spectacle, sending a thick grey steam-cloud in its wake, burying the child in a graveyard of hope, twisted metal, and time.
I’m so excited to share this bonus chapter from my latest work with you. A LIFETIME… is an Urban Clockpunk novel available to read for free online. 
                                                                                     xo- Rebecca Sky, the Clockpunkette

Review of Crimson Peak

Posted By on October 24, 2015

Ever since the very first teaser picture of Crimson Peak, I’ve been chomping at the bit to go see this movie. Finally, accompanied by two good friends (one of them being Rebecca Sky, my fellow Steampunkette) I got the chance.
First off, let me say that the visuals are stunning. The pictures they advertised with, the eerie red on black and the tattered, ghost-like moths and blood spatters, pretty much let you know exactly what to expect. The way they did the ghosts was exceptional. They’re almost 3D in some strange way (no, I didn’t see it in 3D and forget) perhaps because of the way they seem to be drifting away a bit at a time, how a kind of crimson mist drifts and curls out of them at all times. It’s a new take on ghost graphics, and I found it refreshingly disgusting.
 There are a few especially horrifying ghosts who have pieces of their faces missing and such, so faint of heart need not apply.
The costuming is brilliant. I especially enjoyed the scene that was part foreshadowing, part fashion statement, where the sister, Lucille, is wearing a black lace hat shaped like a ghostly face. There is not nearly enough internet chatter about the face hat? WHY NO FACE HAT? Also, where can I get one of these?
The plotline was interesting for me, up to a point. I was intrigued by the fact that the main character, Edith, is a writer. She talks about Mary Shelley (author of Frankenstein) and Jane Austen, and is working on her own gothic story. Part of me wonders if “Edith” is any tribute to Edith Wharton (House of Mirth, GHASTLY book). In any case, there’s a number of interesting references to life as a writer. She is dismayed to have a publisher tell her that her manuscript “needs a love story”, and at one point tells her father (played by Bobby from Supernatural, btw) that she needs to type out her manuscripts because her writing is “too feminine”.
SPOILERS AHEAD: The part that lost me a bit was the brother/sister relationship. In a way, I think they did it pretty well. There was enough foreshadowing that I guessed what was going on, (incest plotline is a gothic staple) but from the sounds of it, much of the audience did not. There were more than a few disgusted gasps from around us. Though there had to be some foreshadowing to make it click (instead of just coming out of nowhere) I was disappointed that I saw it coming.
There was a few great little details that thrilled and disgusted me, the locks of hair from the missing women, the imagery of the poison tea (beautiful tea cups, by the way) and the way the red clay stained everything was both beautifully eerie and symbolic. But I was almost hoping for a little more, maybe that the siblings knew the house was haunted (I thought they did at first and were recruiting Edith for something like a sacrifice). The “after her money” thing is old hat for me.
I also wasn’t sure why a brother/sister murder team would keep a trunk full of evidence in the basement. Even if it is locked, it just seems like a bad idea.
All in all though, it was thoroughly enjoyable and I will be seeing it in theaters at least once more, as well as encouraging anyone within earshot to go see it. Most of all, I want to see MORE of these Victoria gothic movies, and if Crimson Peak doesn’t do well, we’re telling Hollywood we don’t care to see more.

The Dieselpunkette Reviews: Retribution Falls by Chris Wooding

Posted By on October 18, 2015

This book has been on my TBR list for years, and I finally got around to reading it. Honestly, mostly because it finally showed up available electronically. (The other Punkettes have differing opinions, but I do love my e-books.)

This book was like firefly, but Dieselpunk. And I say that as a fan of Firefly. (If you haven’t watched Firefly and don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s on Netflix, you need to go watch it, right now. I’ll wait.)

It’s not at all that it felt like a ripoff. It’s a combination of the fact that the story centers around the mismatched crew of an airship, all of whom are running from something, and their perpetually broke captain, and the style of humour. The humour plays off the characters and provides much needed lightheartedness to what is at times a story that gets pretty damn dark. And a giant metal steampunky golem with the mental capacity of a toddler. 

Darian Frey, Captain of the Ketty Jay is not particularly sympathetic at first, which is likely why the author chose to open the story with the viewpoints of several other characters – ones new to the crew. Frey is a bit of a womanizer, and irresponsible as hell. There’s a reason he has trouble keeping a crew together. By a third of the way into the book he’d become one of those characters that I couldn’t wait to see him punished, and yet still felt sorry for him, even if it was just a little bit. He’s one of the most dynamic characters of the story – he changes a lot in the course of it, and his emotional arc was beautifully handled.

Several of the crew members have their own character arcs, some seem complete by the end of the book, and others, like Crake, look like they’ll probably continue into later books, which is cool.

A Little bit of Jabber, Tête-à-Tête, and a Whole Bunch of FREE PUNK READS!

Posted By on October 13, 2015

I recently interviewed a multi-punk-genre, short story writer who posts his punk pieces for readers on wattpad–a free online reading and writing site that a lot of us Punkettes use. He was nice enough to link us to an extensive list of free readings at the bottom. Here are my favorite questions and answers from that interview!
                                -Rebecca Sky, The Clockpunkette 

The Clockpunkette: 
Tell us about yourself.

My name is Gavin. I’m married with four children and live in south west England with my family, a dog called Arthur, and a cat who loathes me.

I am self-confessed Science Fiction geek, and I work for Wattpad running their team of 150 volunteers and looking after various sectors of content. This means I get to describe myself to puzzled border control officials in Toronto as a professional reader of odd fiction which is very satisfying.