I’ve been seeing a chiropractor for the past couple of years due to chronic back problems, and despite my initial skepticism, I generally have felt pretty good about it. While I’m by no means free of discomfort, I haven’t had the twisted spine or crippling spasms that once plagued me.

Last Friday I went in for my monthly visit and, while sitting in the waiting area, noticed a flyer sitting out amongst the magazines. “The Truth About the Flu Shot” detailed surprising “facts”: that flu vaccinations had no significant effect on healthy babies, children with asthma, adults, the elderly or, one presumes, anyone at all. Among its suggestions of how to combat government-mandated vaccinations are to connect with other activist organizations (including ones that “support 2nd Amendment issues”) and to “have at least 3 weeks of food and water on hand.”

Troubled by such patently bogus information being left out in a healthcare professional’s office, I folded it into my pocket. Then I asked the “doctor” about it. To my dismay, I learned that he fully endorsed these false beliefs.

Okay, truth to tell, I wasn’t entirely surprised to learn this. I was initially hesitant to see a chiropractor for fear of quackery. (For what it’s worth, I’ve talked to my doctor and nurse practitioner about my concerns, and they both felt that spinal manipulation itself was okay.)

I told him that this was irresponsible, that he was spreading dangerous misinformation. He said that we’d have to “agree to disagree.”

Now, I know all about agreeing to disagree. This is what I tell angry viewers after two failed attempts to explain my workplace’s programming policies. If they continue to argue the same point, I agree to disagree and end the dialogue. But we had barely even begun to talk about my concerns.

He said we could debate it all day, to which I replied, “No, I can’t, because I don’t come armed with facts and figures to make my argument.” That’s not to say that I haven’t read up on the subject: for example, Time ran a lengthy article on the anti-vaccination movement last year. It’s just that, as is the case when I go up to visit my dad, I can’t prepare in advance for a debate that I don’t know I’m going to have.

I told him my chief objection to those who don’t vaccinate their children: I have a wife who, thanks to a congenital heart defect, has a weakened immune system. As the Time article points out, the more unvaccinated people there are in a population, the greater the risk for those who are more susceptible to disease. (More about that and other aspects of the anti-vaccination movement here.)

His response was “If the vaccine works, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” (Not true; see above.) I said, “If the vaccine works, you’re trying to discourage people from getting it.”

I said that I was disappointed that a medical professional would disseminate such misinformation, to which he replied, “I’m not a medical professional.” That’s funny, because on his very own web site (which I will not link to, as it’s not my intention to impugn his reputation), he states:

Actually chiropractic physicians receive four academic years of schooling, just like medical physicians. The chiropractic curriculum includes the same basic sciences that medical doctors take. Medical school curricula are remarkably similar, especially in the first three years. Courses like biochemistry, anatomy, physiology, neurology, endocrinology, histology, embryology, pathology, microbiology, pharmacology, myology, hematology, angiology, osteology are part of the chiropractic curriculum.

Huh.

In any case, he’s someone to whom people go when they have health-related issues. I expect that would engender a certain amount of trust on the part of his clients when it comes to such subjects.

We went back and forth for a bit. I argued that if there’s consensus among the medical community (which there is when it comes to vaccines) that it’s probably right. He countered that there’s a lot of money riding on getting people vaccinated. (As opposed to any other type of medical treatment, which, as we all know, is provided free of charge.) I told him that the “vaccines cause autism” claim had been thoroughly debunked. He shot back, in true Argument Clinic fashion, “No, it hasn’t.”

He offered that if I was offended, he would understand if I just left without completing the session, but I decided to stay. When my batty grandma was alive she used to declare, “I’ll never go there again!” every time she disagreed with someone at a place of business. I don’t want to be that grandma.

While I made another appointment for next month, I’m still debating whether to go back. This is an issue that ignites passion on my part, and it bugs me to support a willing disseminator of anti-scientific hogwash. Yet I genuinely like the guy, and I do actually think he’s done me some good.

If I do return, I’ll come prepared.

Dave Rant chiropractic, pseudoscience, quackery, vaccines

As I’ve mentioned before, what initially appealed to me most about Champions Online was the promise of creating my superhero’s own “nemesis.” However, I was disappointed to learn that the feature doesn’t become available until a character reaches Level 25. Now, after spending entirely too many hours at the keyboard, my primary hero (Toygirl) has at last acheived that milestone.

Yesterday I thought, now what? Who would be the archrival of a toy-themed gadgeteer adventuress?

Every hero has villains, but in my view only one can rise to the level of “nemesis,” the opponent to which a heroic character is eternally linked. Batman may battle the Penguin or the Riddler, but everyone knows that the Joker is one that really gets under his tights. (Errr…)

My theory about nemeses is that they basically come in two flavors: the duplicate and the opposite. A duplicate is a villain who is more or less identical to the hero, with similar powers and perhaps a costume which parodies that of his rival. An opposite is one that is everything the hero is not. An example of the former is the Flash’s foe Professor Zoom; he might be nicknamed the Reverse-Flash, but he’s really just the Flash with a color-inverted supersuit. Lex Luthor is an example of the latter. Superman is characterized by his physical might, Luthor counterbalances that with mental genius.

Anyhow, my initial thought was to give Toygirl a duplicate: a rogue gadgeteer named the Dollmaker. I saw him as surrounded by deadly Barbies, rag dolls and the like. Unfortunately, I soon learned that at this time one can only choose a pre-generated set of minions (pirates, ninjas, etc.) for one’s nemesis. That didn’t seem all that toy-themed to me.

So, thought I, “Why not make Barbie herself the villain?” Rather than a duplicate, she can be an opposite: a self-aware toy.

Tremble, then, before the majesty of Barbara X-03!

I wrote up a short bio for her: “The final creation of rogue toymaker Geppetto Dolly, Barbara X-03 (known affectionately by no one as “Babs”) is a plastoid shell over an unobtanium mechanical frame. Plotting from her dream house, Barbara X-03 is out to prove that killer fembots can do anything!”

The first nemesis mission is a museum heist, which begins when the villain blows a huge hole in the wall. I like that the first thing one sees of the nemesis is a slow, cinematic pan up from the feet.

Kneel! Kneel before Barbara X-03!

Since that initial encounter at the museum, Barbara X-03 has not made a reappearance, but her robot minions have ambushed me on several occasions. I would’ve liked to have posted a better screenshot of Toygirl vs. Barbara, but quite frankly any time I get near her she blasts me halfway across the room!

Until next time, Babs. Until next time.

Dave Videogames Barbie, Champions Online, nemesis

The final issue of DC’s Wednesday Comics hit stores this week. My initial enthusiasm about this experiment–a 12-issue miniseries of weekly installments printed in the manner of a Sunday comics supplement–waned after the fourth issue or so. Several of the stories wasted too much of their limited page count dicking around. Neil Gaiman’s Metamorpho featured two straight weeks of full-page panels in which the Element Man walked and talked.

So, how did the individual strips fare?

Batman – A wonderfully moody first chapter turned into an unambitious murder investigation. You mean that the rich geezer was done in by his hot, gold-digging wife? What a “mystery!”

Kamandi – This Prince Valiant-style excursion through a post-apocalyptic world ruled by beasts was terrific from beginning to end. It made me want to check out creator Jack Kirby’s original run.

Superman – The one which failed most spectacularly is disappointingly the one which received the most exposure courtesy USA Today. Superman spent six issues moping until he remembered the time he was adopted by loving parents and spend thirty years living happily among humans. Then he punched some aliens.

Deadman – Enjoyable overall, but not necessarily a good introduction to the character. Deadman’s main traits are his incorporeality and his ability to possess others, and the setting of much of the story–a hellscape in which he had a physical form–rendered both of those moot.

Green Lantern – A very slow start that, while it picked up midway through, didn’t amount to much of a story.  At least it wasn’t about a guy with a power ring who only fights other guys with power rings, as is the case with the monthly comic.

Metamorpho – I was very annoyed by the panel in which the characters name-checked the (off-panel) traps they faced. If you’re going to reference a “laser attack” room, I’d rather see that than two weeks of walk-and-talk. Still, I liked that Gaiman heavily mined Silver Age continuity here, particularly the inclusion of Algon the ancient Element Man. He kept teasing with the idea of an ongoing Metamorpho title, and I think that he should convince someone at DC to let him take a whack at it.

Teen Titans – I had no damned idea what was going on here. I don’t know if it was the art or the script, but I couldn’t make sense of it. Something about Deathstroke the Terminator dressing up as an even sillier villain.

Strange Adventures – Paul Pope’s art was…interesting. Yet I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy his version of Adam Strange via Edgar Rice Burroughs. It took some enormous liberties with the concept–particularly the nature of the Zeta Beam and the notion that Adam is an old man when he’s not on the planet Rann–but it was intriguing and fun.

Supergirl – Second only to Kamandi. I loved this, and would buy an ongoing monthly in a heartbeat. The artwork was appealing to the eye, and full of character moments. Krypto and Streaky (and Supergirl!) have never been cuter. Aquaman’s clam phone? Brilliant!

Metal Men – My number three choice. I know that people dump on DC Comics’ executive editor Dan DiDio, but he bulls-eyed this one with a script that included everything I like about the Metal Men, with none of what I dislike about them.

Wonder Woman – Again, no idea what happened here. I think it was supposed to be a riff on all those old stories that told how WW won the individual elements of her costume, but I felt as if I was battling the artwork, and the artwork won.

Sgt. Rock – It just seemed to be a standard-issue Rock story that made no attempt to fit into the newspaper format.

Flash – The initial idea–a Flash strip running in tandem with one about his suffering wife Iris–was neat, but I lost track of what was going on with all the time-travel. In stories of this sort–in which multiple incarnations of a character from different time-periods simultaneously appear–the writer needs to clearly signpost which version is which. And I’m not sure what was up with the suggestion that the Flash had intentionally created Grodd’s gorilla-filled parallel realm.

Demon/Catwoman – It was okay, but I started out wondering why Catwoman was in the story and ended it feeling the same.

Hawkman – Well done for the most part. I was happy to see Dinosaur Island. Leaving Hawkman without his wings for half the story was probably a mistake; he’s pretty much Manman at that point.

I wouldn’t mind seeing DC try something like this again, but I think that the creators need to remember how to tell a complete story in twelve pages. They managed it all the time in the Silver Age.

Dave Comics clam phone, Kamandi, Metal Men, Supergirl, Wednesday Comics

Champions Online launched last week, and it’s already been a colossal drain on my free time. I’ve got a half dozen active characters, mostly to try out some different superhero concepts.

I’ve concentrated on a gadgeteer named Toygirl, whose signature move is to unleash “Attack Toys” on her foes. From what I can tell, the Attack Toys power is much maligned by the CO gaming community for putting out too little damage, and indeed, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else use it. But come on, I have a chance to unleash killer teddy bears and toy soldiers, and I’m not gonna take it? I don’t think so.

My initial impression of Champions is that it’s a superhero amusement park. Wherever you travel, there’s something going on. In addition to the standard missions doled by my “contacts,” sometimes a bystander will run up and tell me, for example, that he’s just seen a bunch of robots run into a museum. Last night I happened across a bank robbery in progress.

Then there are the so-called “open missions,” which repeatedly recur in certain areas of the map. They’re typically big brawls involving a dozen or so heroes against a major menace, and the interesting thing is that you can join them in progress and compete for points. (The winners get the best loot, but everyone who participates gets a prize.)

As you can see from the screenshots, it’s a beautiful looking game. The main map is Millennium City, a sprawling metropolis built on the ruins of Detroit. I enjoy simply swooping around on Toygirl’s jet sneakers, buzzing between buildings and through the legs of statues.

Another early impression is that Champions seems to encourage solo play much more than City of Heroes/City of Villains did. In CoX, I couldn’t take two steps without someone inviting me to join their team or guild. I’ve temporarily teamed up with another player to take on a troublesome mob (“mob” is Massive Multiplayer Online game slang for a “mobile object,” aka a thing what attacks you), but have yet to pursue or even to be invited onto a team for an evening. There are some missions that are recommended for two or three heroes, but I hear that some people even go solo on those.

On the other hand, the game also encourages player vs. player (PvP) combat, to the extent that even I’ve joined in. This is my fourth MMO game (Asheron’s Call, Star Wars Galaxies, City of Heroes), but the first in which I felt comfortable enough to battle other players. In the past, my relative ineptitude with the controls and with the intricacies of creating a character designed to make other players cry left me unwilling to take on snotty game punks.

The nice thing about the PvP combat in Champions is that it’s a five-on-five cage match, with participants more-or-less randomly assigned. Everyone is set to fight as if they’re a Level 20 character, and there’s no penalty for losing a match. So, even though I still suck at it, I’ve actually had fun in most of my PvP battles. I’ve even been on the winning team a few times!

There’s been a fair amount of in-jokiness so far. The TV studio mission pictured above has one saving thinly-disguised members of the cast of the movie Anchorman. I also played a couple of scenarios clearly inspired by John Carpenter’s They Live, including a parking lot fight against a parody of Rowdy “Roddy” Piper.

As might be expected, the character creation system is even more robust than the one for City of Heroes. (Cryptic Studios designed both games.) One can play all manner of demons, angels, aliens, furries and even gorillas.

Meet Two-Gun Gorilla!

And here’s my attempt at mixing powers from different sets. Chillblain (who probably needs a better name) is a combination fire/ice thrower.

Meanwhile, if only to prove that I’m not above prurient interest in my superheroine designs, here’s Bettie Bombshell.

Finally, here’s an alternate costume for Toygirl. One can preset multiple “builds” for one’s character that can be toggled back and forth depending upon whether one is playing an offensive, defensive or support role, so I came up with an appropriately beefed-up look for her more aggressive mode.

Sorry, I’ve got to go. There are aliens coming, and I’ve got a city to save!

Dave Videogames Champions Online, superheroines

NBC’s 30 Rock website posted this terrific montage of Dr. Leo Spaceman, as played by Chris Parnell. Remember, “Science is whatever we want it to be!”

Dave TV 30 Rock, Chris Parnell, it's science!, spaceman

Reposted from my blog at TV Worth Blogging.

The Jay Leno Show begins its history-making run tonight on NBC. That’s right, without having seen a single episode, I can confidently claim that it will make history. When future pop cultural anthropologists penetrate the Miley-Britney Stratum and begin to excavate our era, they will wisely look at each other and cluck (yes, chickens will rule the future) “This day was the beginning of the end of network television.”

That’s because today is the first time an American commercial television network has turned over five hours of prime-time to a talk show. Big deal, right? Actually, yes.

NBC, once the unstoppable juggernaut of “Must See,” home to E.R., Seinfeld, The Cosby Show and Cheers, has run up the flag of surrender. Firmly in fourth place, lacking a strong program development slate, they’ve essentially given up on trying to fill twenty-two hours of prime-time. They’ve declared that audiences in the age of TiVo, Hulu and XBox have become too fragmented to pay for all of those expensive dramas and sitcoms.

I’ve seen this coming for at least a decade. As cable and satellite systems continued to expand their offerings, they pecked away at the dominance of the so-called “Big Four” networks (ABC, CBS, NBC and Fox). Lots of people were watching television, but an ever-increasing number of them were engaged by programming targetted to their niche interests.

Not too long ago I pulled out the earliest Nielsen ratings book in the WILL-TV archive, from February 1976. For no particular reason, my eyes alighted on Petrocelli. If you don’t remember that one, you’re not alone. It was a legal drama that ran for two seasons on NBC. In fact, it was cancelled shortly after this particular ratings book was issued. Yet in our local market, Petrocelli ended its run with a 17 rating. Seventeen percent of all households with a TV were tuned to Barry Newman as small-town lawyer Tony Petrocelli.

By comparison, in the May 2009 book for our market the final four episodes of this year’s American Idol competition averaged a 15 rating. Idol, arguably the most buzzed-about series of the past decade, doesn’t even crack the level set by Petrocelli just before the axe fell.

The problem with all of this is that the niche audiences which have migrated to cable and satellite aren’t large enough to attract the advertising dollars necessary to pay for top-line talent and production values.

That’s not to say that there aren’t some fine programs out there in the “500 channel universe.” Most of the bigger cable networks have one or two higher-end productions which they use as their calling cards. Shows like Mad Men, Damages, Battlestar Galactica and Project Runway attract attention and awards; they help build corporate identities and invite viewers to check out a channel’s other offerings.

But none of these so-called “networks” can afford to make anywhere near the number that once populated the Big Four’s lineup. They fill the rest of the time with cheap programming and repeats of shows that once aired on broadcast TV.

What I foresaw–and what I think the coming of Jay Leno to prime-time portends–was a future in which no channel, not even the broadcast networks, could pay to produce more than a handful of shows at the level of quality we once took for granted.

Whether or not The Jay Leno Show succeeds–and remember, as Time’s TV critic James Poniewozik points out in his recent cover story, the bar for success is ridiculously low–it’s a clear indication that the business model has irrevocably changed. The future is coming, and Mr. Leno’s prodigious chin will point the way.

Dave TV chickens, chin, Jay Leno, the future ain't what it used to be

From last night’s live Are You Being Served? marathon on WILL-TV, featuring Nicholas (“Mr. Rumbold”) Smith.

Dave TV Are You Being Served?, Britcom, David Thiel Superstar, Nicholas Smith, WILL-TV

A friend of mine once told me that the scariest thing about the Daleks is that you can never be certain when they will kill you. It might be the precise instant that you are deemed no longer useful. Or it might be the moment that you piss them off. Or it might be any time, for any reason, or no reason at all. They may will kill you for not being a Dalek. However, if you are a Dalek, they may will kill you for not being Dalek-y enough.

You can be absolutely assured that no matter what you do, you eventually will hear the following two sounds: the high-pitched shriek “EX-TER-MIN-ATE!” followed immediately by the electronic sizzle of a death ray.

The Daleks–introduced in 1963 during the second story arc of the first season of Doctor Who–were a phenomenon created almost entirely by accident. Terry Nation’s script was pushed forward in the production schedule when another planned story was delayed. Nation’s description of the creatures was sketchy, and it was BBC designer Raymond Cusick who gave them their familiar pepper pot shape, their eyestalk and–infamously–their toilet plunger arm.

They were an instant sensation in the U.K. What had been intended as a one-off opponent for the time-travelling Doctor became his nemesis, featuring in numerous sequels and even a couple of spin-off films starring Peter Cushing. There were toys aplenty, and why not? Any kid could imitate a Dalek: just stiffly stick out your arms, shuffle about and scream “EX-TER-MIN-ATE!”

What Daleks Are:

1. The mutated remains of the Kaleds, a humanoid race from the planet Skaro.
2. Green, tentacled blobs permanently encased in tank-like “travel machines.”
3. The creations of the brilliant and therefore mad scientist Davros, himself a mutant confined to a motorized wheelchair.
4. Fanatical believers in racial purity.

What Daleks Aren’t:

1. Robots. There’s a living creature in there, crippled and in constant pain.
2. Emotionless. Even the TV show makes that mistake at times. It’s just that all they feel is anger, fear and hatred. And they hate themselves most of all.
3. Afraid of stairs. Their presumed inability to navigate a set of steps was a joke frequently repeated by British cartoonists and comedians, long since debunked.

Perhaps in response to public perception of the Daleks as being a bit silly, the revitalized Doctor Who series beefed up their capabilities to insane levels. In the episode “Doomsday,” the Daleks get into a pissing match with fellow galactic conquerers the Cybermen. When the Cybermen taunt that there are millions of them, but only four Daleks, their enemies retort that it will only take one Dalek to wipe out the Cyber army. And the truly scary thing is that they’re probably right.

- – -

I hope that you’ve enjoyed this look back at some of my favorite movie and TV aliens. It was originally meant to be a series of brief posts that I could queue up in advance, but brevity and I are not close friends.

Dave Sci-Fi aliens, Daleks, Doctor Who, exterminate, my favorite Martians

It’s a familiar story. Gorilla in bubble helmet meets girl. Gorilla in bubble helmet loses girl. Gorilla in bubble helmet kills billions of people with calcinator death ray.

Meet Ro-Man of the Planet Ro-Man, the star of 1953′s Robot Monster. A lot of films are said to be “so bad, they’re good,” but this is the crème de la crème of cinema cheese. Only Plan Nine From Outer Space can challenge it for accidental hilarity.

Now, most people making a film about a “robot monster” would at least make a good faith attempt to put a robot on the screen, but director Phil Tucker wasn’t most people. Legend has it that available robot costumes were too expensive to rent, so Tucker hired his friend George Barrows, whose chief qualification was that he owned a gorilla suit.

You might be thinking, “A gorilla isn’t a robot.” Sure, not until you replace the head with a space helmet. Voilà! Robot! Pull some pantyhose over the actor’s face and you’re ready to conquer the world!

And so came that fateful day when a single overweight mechanical gorilla managed to kill all but eight members of the human race. He might have gotten away with it too, if it hadn’t been for love.

Yes, love. For one of those remaining eight is Alice (or, as Ro-Man calls her “A-lice”), the only woman who can set a robot simian’s heart aflutter.

Alice is one of the daughters of a scientist who created a serum which counteracts Ro-Man’s death ray. Not that it’s done his family or assistant Roy much good, as they’re living in the open foundation of a demolished house, protected from the alien’s senses by an electronic barrier.

Ro-Man is under orders from his leader Great Guidance–who looks suspiciously like Ro-Man aside from a slightly modified bubble helmet–to locate and destroy the remaining “hu-mans.” But Ro-Man keeps fudging the number of survivors in hopes that Great Guidance won’t notice that the one called A-lice is still among the living.

I must, but I cannot! How do you calculate that? At what point on the graph do ‘must’ and ‘cannot’ meet? Yet I cannot….but I must!

You see, despite his great strength–obtained from the planet Ro-Man, relayed for his individual energiser–Ro-Man is experiencing an inexplicable weakness. It will lead him to make both poor judgments and frequent soliloquys.

Yes! To be like the hu-man! To laugh! Feel! Want! Why are these things not in the plan?

Folks, Ro-Man needs himself something, and it’s not something that can be relayed from the planet Ro-Man.

He kidnaps A-lice and brings her back to his cave* of super Ro-Man technology, including a wooden table and a thing what blows bubbles. (No joke, N.A. Fischer Chemical Products gets a credit for its “Automatic Billion Bubble Machine.”)

What is painfully obvious is that Ro-Man has no clue what to do with a girl once he kidnaps one. For one, his fat gorilla hands clearly aren’t up to the task. He makes a futile attempt to tie up A-lice, but when Great Guidance calls he gets frustrated and knocks her out. And yet, a couple of shots later, she’s sitting on the ground, trussed hand and foot. I like a girl who’s into self-bondage.

Great Guidance at last loses his shit and bellows, “You wish to be a hu-man? Good! You can die a hu-man!” He unleashes cosmic Q-waves which kill the lovestruck gorilla/robot and destroy the world in a stock footage montage which inexplicably includes dinosaurs.

And then, it turns out to be all a little boy’s dream. Or is it? As the boy runs away from the cave, Ro-Man reemerges. Not once, but three times. Three Ro-Men? Or one Ro-Man walking in circles? We will never know.

Honestly, I can barely do this film justice. Read the wonderful review at And You Call Yourself a Scientist!

*The infamous Bronson Canyon cave, an artificially-dug tunnel in a public park so close to Hollywood that it’s featured in countless movies and TV shows.

Dave Sci-Fi gorillas, my favorite Martians, Ro-Man, Robot Monster, so bad it's good

Ridley Scott’s Alien is often dismissed as merely “a haunted house movie in space” rather than a legitimate science-fiction film. And yes, there are a few cheap boos, including a groan-worthy Cat Scare.

Yet I can’t recall another film that has devoted so much screen time to fleshing out the biology of its xenomorph. On the surface, Alien may seem like little more than an exercise in bone-crunching bloodletting, or an excuse to get Sigourney Weaver into the tiniest panties in film history, but I think it’s really about the act of procreation and the evolutionary imperative to survive at any cost.

It’s not without reason that Scott hired Swiss surrealist H.R. Giger to design his creature. If you are looking to combine skulls and penises, Giger is your go-to guy. And indeed, the head of the Alien is quite clearly intended to be a death’s head phallus.

The sexual content of Alien isn’t at all subtextual. One of the hapless astronauts of the deep-space vessel Nostromo is literally penetrated by a thing that wraps itself around his head and shoves an egg tube down his throat. The critter gestates inside his gut in a mock pregnancy that ends when it tears its way through his belly in a self-Caesarean.

The life cycle of the Alien–egg, face-hugger, chest-burster, adult–is so well conceived that it becomes almost a ritualistic component of later sequels and spin-offs. By the time of Alien vs. Predator, the whole process is allowed to elapse in about five minutes of screen time.

In a deleted scene (later reinserted for DVD release), Scott brings the cycle full-circle by depicting the adult Alien cocooning its victims and transforming them into a new generation of eggs. That part of the lore was superseded by the introduction of the Queen in James Cameron’s Aliens, and is generally ignored.

The Alien is desired by ruthless businessmen for its potential as a bioweapon. After all, it’s not only a perfect killing machine, but a supreme survival organism. For goodness’ sake, the thing evolved acid for blood just so no one would fuck with it.

For me, the terror of Alien isn’t just the beast itself, but the endless void of space and the sand-blasted hellscape of the world on which the thing is discovered. While Alien is not overtly an H.P. Lovecraft inspired film, I certainly feel that inimical environment is exactly the sort of place in which his extraplanetary gods would’ve spawned.

Dave Sci-Fi Alien, my favorite Martians, penis