Movie Atrocities Of Yesteryear - Star Wars: The Clone Wars

I went into Star Wars: The Clone Wars prepared to bear the brunt of at least a modicum of disappointment. What you must understand is that as an avid fan of Lucas's grand creation I have weathered the fans discontent from The Phantom Menace, rose above the somewhat stilted acting and script of Attack of The Clones and found ultimate redemption in the semi-epic conclusion that is Revenge of The Sith. Like all movie franchises the series has had its flaws, its ups and downs, and sadly for this movie it is perhaps the furthest the saga has ever had to fall. George Lucas I beseech you, what in the name of Korriban were you thinking?

Don't we fans deserve a little respect? We've suffered enough

We open without the quintessential reel of story and instead are force fed a quick summary from some cantina layabout, who may or may not have once worked on one of the ill fated Starship Trooper sequels. Jabba's son has been kidnapped is the general jist of it and only the Jedi can possibly save him from the clutches of the evil Separatists. Ignoring the fact that nowhere else does this figment of imagination rear its damned ugly head, we as viewers are further insulted by the creatures name, Stinky. This is only a nickname mind you, who knows what you'd even call a baby Hutt, so I became rather resigned to it in the end.  It almost made me long for Jar Jar back, if only almost. The entire plot is centred around the rescue and quite frankly there's very little else to explain. Simply put:

If the Separatists win and return the son they stole they can use the Hutt Space lanes to help defeat the Republic.  Or, well you know the Republic does the same blasted thing but only to the Separatists. It's not a head scratcher. There are no, "I am your Father" style bombshells here.

Where's Order 66 when you need it?

However, I am getting ahead of myself and in so doing I am perhaps skating over the worst partnership in the history of film. Enter Anakin's (Matt Lanter) new Padawan; yes, I said Anakin's new Padawan, Ahsoka Tano (Ashley Eckstein). Given that almost the entire cast, minus the obviously confused Lee and Jackson, returned to voice their characters you would have thought that George might have felt the need to up the dialogue to a notch above dire, simple-minded-singular-sentences. But alas, no, and instead we are given witty banter between the two protagonists that boarders between redundant and woefully stupid. From stating the blindingly obvious to acting like an American brat lifted straight from High School Musical Thirteen, Ahsoka very quickly becomes the character you want to see Dooku soundly cleaving in two. By the end you'd probably pay your admission fee just to see a twenty second clip of the blessed event.

The bad guys themselves, Dooku and Assajj Ventress are nothing to write home about but do successfully put up a front of being evil without having to resort to pep rally bickering. The simple fact is that they are the anti Tano and Skywalker, which will immediately have you rooting for them if only to end your own suffering. But when you have to back the sadistic, and in Ventress's case psychotic, bad guy you know you're in trouble. For as much as we'd like not to admit it we all want to see the good guys win... Just not these good guys.

Something of a last stand situation?

In fairness the effects for the film are not that bad, although they don't touch the complexity or artful skill say, shown in  WALL-E. Actually there are a lot of things this film doesn't share with WALL-E, but the battle scenes are well rendered, adding some desperately needed weight to the flailing narrative. Obi Wan (James Arnold Taylor) actually delivers a passable Ewan McGregor impersonation, but once again the abysmal dialogue drops this small victory into the Rancor pit. After a while you do begin to wonder if the Jedi Master has perhaps meditated himself into a vegetative state; by the closing credits you very well may be hard pressed to remember your own name.

And there is one vital component that no Star Wars film can be found without, the musical score of John Williams who has successfully brought a consistent and vibrant feel to the series that is instantly recognisable as Star Wars. He made tiny Ewoks being blown to smithereens even sadder for Pete sake! The man quite simply is a genius. One however that is missing from The Clone Wars, and instead we are subjected to the guitar infused machinations of Kevin Kiner. Who seems upon realising he could not match Williams finesse struck off in another direction altogether, which quite frankly bombed faster than a Tie Fighter with an X-Wing up its rear end.

It does seem that this entire sordid affair need never have been brought into the light of day. In the end Star Wars fans are a picky bunch, they hated Phantom Menace as it could never live up to their expectations. So why did poor, dim George think that they could ever be sated by a teenage Disney padawan and her suddenly happy-peppy-none-dark- side-turning master? Honestly I don't have a clue and short of a well timed Jedi mind trick I doubt we ever will. This foray into the world of computer Star Wars animation should be consigned to the history books and preferably hidden from sight, if only to stop our children from judging us too harshly. So may the force be with you and watch your DVD's instead, as there's nothing more fun than watching the Death Star go boom, and pretending that The Clone Wars was a figment of your obviously over stimulated imagination.

A Comparative Assessment of an Unfunny Story

Book to film conversions. Some are certainly more successful than others and I don't mean financially. The Harry Potter series for instance generally languishes in the so-so department while stories such as Eragon are damn near villainous in their portrayal. A bad script, poor direction and Edward, fucking, Spleers. The guy was obviously chosen as a pretty face, not for his abilities. Now, when dealing with sensitive topics such as mental illness I cannot say one medium is superior over another, however in this case a clear distinction exists. It's Kind of a Funny Story is a tale centring on Craig, a teenager for whom the rigours of life have finally become too much, and he ends up on a 30 day psychiatric hold in Six North.  Let's say it's a quirky place for quirky people. In the book his personality, his dreams and the failings of his psyche are developed with keen interest. They help us to understand that Craig's life is not the sole reason behind his unhappiness, alluding to the chemical issues at work in ones brain while depressed. And this is a book aimed at teenagers. It educates as well as aids in both understanding and dealing with depression, and quite frankly, the film fails miserably.

DVD Cover: It's Kind of a Funny Story

Keir Gilchrist, our resident Craig is problematic to begin with, but we'll get to him. No, the central issue with the movie is the way in which it pulls away from depression being an illness and rather a single manifestation of Craig's oh-so difficult life. I would like to say here that I am in no way saying that problems within ones life cannot lead to depression, but rather this departure from the book is unforgivable. While in the novel Craig's family is supportive and entirely dedicated to his getting better, the film gives us a dysfunctional and emotionally distant unit, possessing an overbearing dad and a useless mother, acted by the poorly used Lauren Graham. It seems like the directors, Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck were desperate to show that his depression was firmly rooted in reality, as heaven forbid, we don't want people to think it's an actual illness anyone could get. That could cause a panic.

 I'm sad and stuff.  (Sigh) Depression is hard. 
The entire escapade is further damaged by the directors irritating take on Craig as a character. You see, in the novel Craig isn't cutting his wrists and weeping to some two bit love ballad, he's more subtly askew. It makes him easier to relate to and strikes a decent balance between the unavoidable darker sides and moments of humorous levity. Sure he throws up and can't keep his food down, however this is tempered by Craig's amusing observations and peculiar world. The directors in their haste seem to lose sight of this nuance, making Craig into a rather insufferable little sod in the process. A poster child for electro shock therapy if ever there was one, he comes across as moody, shallow and downright dull. I understand that the film was supposed to be up lifting, but it would have been also rather nice had Craig exhibited any of the other symptoms common with depression. Other than his obligatory throwing up we are given no real indicators that he is unhappy, apart from being an arse throughout the movie. This is of course then compounded by declaring his love for his best friends ex girlfriend as to sleep with her, while also standing in front of the girl who was supposed to be his love interest. And said love interest hooks up with him anyway. Interesting the way in which Boden and Fleck took the moment of the book designed to inspire and fill teenagers with a sense of all will come right, and instead made Craig appear to be a Herculean, cheating scum bag.

                                                                                    Zach Galifianakis says what?                 
The supporting cast just doesn't seem to exist, comprising a series of peculiar characters who are never developed. Even Bobby, the head patient as it were, played by Zach Galifianakis feels more like a peripheral character, his problems boiled down to a difficult relationship with his child. It's far from the rich and plain quirky characters in play in the book, if anything they seem like cut outs of Ned Vizzini's creations, placed their to help us all bask in the greatness of Craig's tragic life.

                            
 Now, considering that this article is veering heavily in the direction of a rant, I shall conclude my slightly comparative musings with a final nod to a fine book and a terrible film. If I could describe it as anything, I would say it's flat, dreary and wholly misses the point of the story by languishing with Craig, and only Craig. A boy so uninteresting he made me pine for Charlie, the over the top creation from The Perks of Being a Wallflower. If you've read my review of that particular work, you'll know of the hefty disdain I feel for young Charlie, but this pales into insignificance in comparison to It's Kind of a Funny Story, the movie.

Retro Rehash - Stalker: Welcome to the Zone

You know what I really love about the Zone? It isn't its radioactive death traps, bandits, weapons, artifacts or chilly Russian air. It's not the wonderment of watching an emission tear the sky asunder or a mutant cut down an inch from your face. It's the lawlessness, the feeling of being the composite master of one's destiny. Now, I know what you're thinking, RPG's have been around for years, MMO's let you live a virtual life online etc etc. To the first I say, find me a setting more bleak and frankly downright interesting than the Zone. Your brain is straining tangibly at the thought. As for the second, why the hell would I want such an experience as wandering the desolate Chernobyl wasteland ruined by a bunch of strangers? A couple of friends maybe, but I'll be damned if any snot nosed thirteen year old is going to interrupt me wiping out a bloodsucker den to tell me to "go fuck myself." You want that, get back on your Xbox.

Kill it, kill it now!

Now, where was I? Ah yes, the Zone. Having recently completed S.T.A.L.K.E.R: Shadow of Chernobyl and Call of Pripyat I am currently chocker full of admiration for the designers at GSC Game World. I don't get drawn into games lightly, and this has got to count as a full blown addiction. I'm practically ambushing Monolith fighters in my sleep, which helps explain the state of my bedroom somewhat. Maybe the Zone indulges my own antisocial attitudes, allowing me to wander to the march of my own drum but there's something fundamentally entertaining about the notion. The world feels real, much helped by the game engine's ability to maintain up to 1000 npc players in an unscripted environment. They are, in effect, living their own lives and following their own missions. So, do you help the group of Stalkers under fire from bandits or just walk on by? Is it in your interest, do you care for your standing with any given faction? It's just feels good knowing you're not walking some preset path through the game. It's very liberating.

There is of course a primary story line in both games, but they always felt a little flimsy to me, especially in Call of Pripyat. I basically did the story missions once I'd exhausted the side quests in an area, for to be honest I had very little interest in why the helicopters had crashed or with what the military was doing poking around the Zone. If anything, I'd say that the main plot was a simple vehicle meant to give you some direction but still let you do your own thing. In this regard, it is easy to understand the underwhelming narrative, it was never meant to be the central part of either game anyway. It would have been nice if they'd both been a little tighter, but I wouldn't sacrifice the Zone's uniqueness in pursuit of it.

WARNING! May be hazardous or give you super powers!

 
While playing S.T.A.L.K.E.R you will quickly come to learn that artifacts are pretty handy to have in a bind. They can make you into demi-gods, be traded for a fist full of cash, or irradiate you in my case. Took me a few minutes to figure that one out. Suffice as to say, I'd wind up dead in the Zone faster than a Bandit making friends with the smart end of my shotgun, in reality. Anyway, getting back on point, artifacts exist to create a genuine interest in the Zone rather than it just being a hide out for criminals and a point of interest to scientists. Much like during the gold rush, they act as the prize in this Western style backwater drawing in every type of individual you can imagine. Corrupt military, mercenaries, Stalkers, scientists and idealists. Who wouldn't want a chunk of rock that can help you resist bullets, run faster or in rare cases, regenerate. When I got that particular item, I sold it. So not everyone I guess.

I have to admit that while in Shadow of Chernobyl I was artifact mad, in Call of Pripyat I was far less so primarily due to the increased difficulty of acquiring and equipping them. When I needed a quick influx of money I'd brave the wilds and come back with a few choice pieces, but found that overall, I could do just fine without them. I even snubbed the vast majority of quests were retrieving a specific artifact was required, but that's just how I roll. I made a small fortune in equipment; why diversify?

Meet the wildlife, please do not feed the animals.

The thing that both games have in common is their eerie, lifeless quality. Heading back to base as night sets in, the hollow eyes of buildings staring you down while around you, the natives are waking up. And I have to say, they ain't friendly. From rabid mutant dogs, to psychic Controllers, the Zone is arguably more awake in the early morn than any other. It's also a lot more dangerous and outright scary. There's nothing like pumping your way across the swamps, reeds high above your head, and then, boo! Out of nowhere pops a mutant ready to munch on your brain, fast food style. It gets to the point where you have some pretty frayed nerves and a jumpy trigger finger to boot. At one point, in the middle of a night time gun battle I unloaded half a clip into an enemy silhouette, only to find it to be a well.  That's right, a hole in the ground filled with water. Paranoia can get the better of anyone out here.
                                                                                         
                                                                                                           

"I found him this way, honest!"

Speaking of trigger fingers, remember how earlier I was extolling the magical lawlessness of the Zone? Well, no Wild West is complete without it's selection of weapons. From AK's to automatic shotguns and under slung grenade launchers to rail guns, the order of firepower is very impressive. Personally, in both outings, I preferred a trusty AK-74 with a scope for long range work. It wasn't the best gun in the game by far, but it just felt Stalkerish. The kind of weapon that would be in abundance in a place like the Zone. It saved my life on hundreds of occasions, and may have been complicit in a few of my shadier dealings. There's a reason I nicknamed my weapon Old Dependable, and a small part of it has nothing to do with my mental health.

I could ramble on for several more pages about S.T.A.L.K.E.R, invariably boring you to death with every minute detail of my play through, but that would be an injustice. I'd be taking up valuable time which you could be using to play S.T.A.L.K.E.R, buy S.T.A.L.K.E.R or just think about S.T.A.L.K.E.R. So, I shall let you go now, to do whatever you like. It might even not be S.T.A.L.K.E.R related, but I doubt it.

Ghost In the Shell 2: Innocence - Worthy Successor or Philosophical Diatribe?

Nine years after the original Ghost in the Shell, director Mamoru Oshii returned to the philosophical world of Masamune Shirow's manga creation, with Ghost in the Shell: Innocence. Suffice as to say, it proved divisive and even now eight years on it is a point of contention between fans of the original. A great deal of animosity has been laid at it's feat for being too complicated, not in terms of it's story but rather it's labyrinthine dialogue. Each character seemingly possessing an education schooled purely in literary references and Confucian philosophy. But does this really make the film bad? Does it render it an unwatchable slideshow of pretty visuals? Because the one thing every fan seems to agree on is that it's stunningly depicted.

The answer seems to be both a yes and a no. That is to say, I am precariously balancing on the fence for this one. Not out of fear of either side, but because I am genuinely baffled. While watching Innocence I often found myself at a slight loss as to what was being said, rebuttals and entire conversations hinging on a philosophical point I could barely keep up with. At times it all felt over done and unnecessary, cutting into the flow of the film by continually challenging the viewer to figure out what was going on. Oddly however, that doesn't mean it was a complete failure and to understand this we've got to take a closer look at the story itself.

Section 9 is investigating a series of murders by personal sex robots. Batou, still tortured by the loss of his partner the Major throws himself into the pursuit of the perpetrators and at times seems to be on the cusp of losing his grip. The Chief of Section 9 noting how he reminds him of the Major before she went missing. It's interesting to see Batou develop as his own character, being more of a sounding board for the Major's questioning of humanity in the original. Also, there's nothing like watching him shoot up a Yakuza den with reckless abandon.  It was just plain cool. The philosophical  tone adds weight to this narrative, for while overdone it alludes to some deeper questions regarding perfection and the soul. The real complaint about this approach is found in the script itself, which at times seems more interested in tripping the viewer up through it's own cleverness than exploring the issues it brings to the fore. So the answer as to whether it is a good or a bad thing is entirely dependent on the viewer themselves and their ability to see past it's inherent flaws.

Now, having discussed the philosophical aspect of the film, lets talk about the visuals. Being produced back in 1995 the original Ghost in the Shell didn't have the options technologically that we do today. Something which the 2.0 release tried and failed to resolve. Innocence, however, enjoys a style unhindered by such limitations, blending traditional animation with stunning computer generated vistas. The opening scene, depicting the city at large from the point of view of a very impressive looking helicopter, really sets up the rest of the movie and gets the viewers imaginations salivating. It should be said that at times the direction is a little self congratulatory, seemingly more interested in showing off than actually contributing to the film, but in all honesty I think we can allow for a little vanity when it looks so good. Without a doubt it was the highlight of the film for me.

Stunning, if a little pointless.

So to conclude, Ghost in the Shell: Innocence is an acceptable sequel to the original, if not managing to surpass it. Philosophy in the first film was much more central to the story, the Major's obsession with finding the Puppet Master linking directly with her own conflict of self. In the second it seemed to be more of a peripheral entity, perhaps trying to compensate for a lighter story-line. In hindsight, it may have been better had the film makers changed the angle of the film to suit that of Batou's character, as opposed to the self analysis and philosophical angst of the Major. Visually the movie is a triumph and there is very little that can be said against it, except that it might have been squandered  by a director trying to pull one's attention from the heavy dialogue and under-lit story. Innocence therefore falls short of the first by trying too much to emulate it's success, however it is still entertaining in the attempt, if rather stilted.

Retro Rehash - Future Cop: A Hommage

You know what I think of when I see the police walking the beat? It isn't how they embody our lawful society and all that is good and pure within our democratic system. It isn't even how funny their big hats are. No, it's three words. "Crowd, control, situation." You see, way back in my formative years my family finally bought one of those crazy-fangled Personal Computers and with it came a whole host of new and exciting possibilities, or video games as I came to know them. As such with my pocket money I traveled to Electronic Boutique and purchased the game which most appealed to the mind of an eight year old boy, with a front cover sporting a fiery background and a mech letting loose. As I would come to notice just before I handed over my meager savings, this was Future Cop, and it would change my life. For this was no Mario or simple football game, rendered on my ailing Super Nintendo.  This was violent and positively gleeful in it's execution. By modern standards it's probably fairly antiquated, but back then it was the single greatest discovery of my short life so far.

Not your regular bobby.

In the year 2098 urban warfare is rife, terrorists, drug lords, mutants, cyborgs, they got it. So, it's up to you as X1-Alpha, to serve, protect and perhaps most importantly, survive, while bringing justice in all it's destructive forms to the scum of L.A. Who, might I add, are packing some serious heat. This translates into you choosing your weapons load outs, watching the mission briefs and going to town on whichever organisation has been ignorant enough to warrant your attentions. The level design is fairly linear but enjoys a solid size and variance in styles, from battling your way across Venice Beach to purging the mutant infested hell hole that is La Brea Tar Pits. I'll never forget my first sight of those giant worms, and then vaping them for so offending my senses. It gave me quite the kick.

Let's frak these freaks up!

Putting aside the single player for a moment, Future Cop's multiplayer is deserving of a paragraph all to itself. Precinct Assault is the name of the game and the mission, take over the map by claiming gun turrets and subsidiary bases. Supporting you in this endeavour are helicopter gun ships, hover tanks, flying fortresses and the super heavy dreadnought tanks. The air units primarily defend your base while those on the ground  throw themselves headlong at the enemy defences. It's pretty sweet watching your swarm of helis cut an enemy tank push down to size and even better when it's your opponent in person. Of course, being a lonely child I had to satisfy myself with facing off against the computer's diabolical alter ego, Sky Captain! He was my nemesis, and worst of all had the ability to ply the sky while I trudged across the urban wastelands. To this day I still hear his cries of frustration and crows of victory. Damn him.

Fly my pretties, fly.

Moving onto lighter things, one of my favourite aspects of the game was always the cutscenes. I mean sure they were sometimes kind of childish, but given how seriously mainstream gaming seems to take itself these days a little levity is no bad thing. The voice acting was top notch as was the music, fitting in nicely with the aesthetic of the game. It has been criticised from time to time for it's cheesy dialogue, but I've always thought that part of the charm, much like the early Command and Conquer full motion videos. Hell, X1 even does a pretty sexy dance during the closing credits which I think is hard to beat.  Sadly I couldn't find a video of this online, so you'll have to settle for one badass pistol duel.

Don't mess with this warden.

Looking over Future Cop as a piece of gaming history it wasn't a trailblazer.  It didn't set the bar for mech games, primarily due to it's easy, pick up and play arcade feel. But what it was without doubt, was fun. Watching little sprite people explode in pixilated splatter and formidable war machines go up in smoke after your ministrations is extremely satisfying. It was just exceptionally well executed, from it's near flawless camera control to it's eclectic array of weaponry. There was nothing like dropping a plasma flare on somebody's head and watching it ruin their day. If only Windows 7 would run my beloved, I could do it all again.

The Peculiar Behaviours of a Botanists Nightmare

The Perks of Being a Wallflower is a coming of age story that operates in the extremis. That is to say, as many issues as humanly possible are dealt with in its 230 pages, giving the entire narrative something of a heavy gait. This in itself is no bad thing, for being stuck on the margins as a teenager is a difficult experience, fraught with social anxieties and figuring out your place in the world. In that regard Charlie, our protagonist would seem a fine choice through whose eyes to navigate the rigours of teenage life. Having just moved to a new school he feels alone and adrift, a fact that is compounded by the recent death of his friend. It’s a good setting, however nobody seemed to explain the concept of overkill to Stephen Chbosky. Due to this oversight in his education, at times the entire story seems nothing more than a series of unfortunate events tied together by Charlie’s faltering neurosis. Physical abuse, homophobia, molestation, mental illness, teen pregnancy, suicide, they all make an appearance within the space of 230 pages. It just feels like too much in too short a time. In truth it’s all a little melodramatic, although maybe the author thought that’s what teenagers would relate to best.

Oddly however, this overload is not the books greatest weakness. In truth, some of the issues are dealt with very well, the difficulties of maintaining a gay relationship when one partner is still closeted for instance was both intense and moving. No, what really put paid to the narrative was Charlie. His reactions and behaviours are so far outside of the norm that they transcend the simple explanations of him being a loner, or even the revelation of his molestation. His sheer peculiarity, especially his propensity to cry or feel the need to cry every few pages removes much-needed gravitas and the ability to empathise with him. This again is the product of Chbosky’s need to overdo his world, relegating the nuances and difficulties of mental illness to the sledgehammer like portrayal that Charlie exhibits. It feels like a learners introduction to depression, or mental health, and could have been dealt with in more detail had the author removed a few of his less important dramatic events.

A great deal has been said about the writing style and structure of The Perks of Being a Wallflower, invariably being praised for its simplistic approach and letter format. In this regard it does excel at making its message easy to understand, however in the process it contributes to the overall dumbing down of the story. It even feels a tad patronising at times and certainly contributes negatively towards Charlie's development as a character. This shows through most obviously when Charlie is meant to be improving in school and becoming a more gifted student. There is simply no symmetry between Chbosky's description and what the reader is shown. His letters seem to be written by a much younger child and this all culminates in the story seeming overly simplified and disrespectful of the intelligence of its readers. On the one level it seems that the author was trying to make the story easily accessible, however in the process had the effect of relegating it to a second rate presentation. It's a pity for Chbosky's goals were admirable, if a little off centre.

In conclusion The Perks of Being a Wallflower never really capitalises on its ideas, mainly due to the author's notion that the book must be short and utterly comprehensive in its selection of life lessons. He seems to assume that teenagers lack the ability or commitment to stay with a more detailed story, a fact which the many trilogies and booming market of teenage literature seems to disprove. In doing so he incontrovertibly damages the book before it even begins, severely weakening the main protagonist. The issues covered are just too numerous for 230 pages and would have benefited from greater attention, perhaps even a sequel. In the end The Perks of Being a Wall Flower comes across as a story in love with it's own tragedy, yet completely lacking the tools with which to examine or present itself adequately to the reader. It is not a great work of fiction, it is not well written and it is definitely not, a wall flower.

Legion of the Damned - Rob Sanders Returns

Rob Sanders genuinely seems to understand the grim and dark of the far future, perhaps better than any other Black Library writer. His portrayal of the universe is merciless and at times, downright nasty, so as you can imagine I was pretty excited to hear he was bringing his talents to the Space Marine Battles series. Then to hear he'd been given the Legion of the Damned as his subject, well, I was pumped full of nerd sugar and ready to fly. As such I picked up the novel on it's release and demolished it within the day, and I have to say, it wasn't what I expected.

One of the greatest facets of the 40k universe is it's grandiose scale, the sheer size and magnitude of it being a singular draw for sci-fi fans and pulp fiction readers. Everything has something of a legendary status, from the might of the Astartes to the star destroying fire power of the Imperial Navy, so there's lots of meat to sink one's teeth into. This, however, can be something of a handicap when bringing the universe to life in detail, for some aspects don't quite work. The best example of this is the Grey Knights novels by Ben Counter. Given the near unstoppable and mind wiped nature of Chapter 666, no work could ever do them justice, for they are too far outside of the norm. In this regard, Rob Sanders dealt well with the mythical status of the Legion of the Damned, by making them a component of the story but not its main focus. Instead we follow Zacariah Kersh, shamed warrior of the Excoriators Chapter towards his greatest battle, and encounter with the Damned

In true form, Sander's universe is a dark one, with the Excoriators indulging in their eternal self flagellation for the failure of their Primarch, Rogal Dorn, to save the Emperor from the traitor Horus. Following a disastrous ambush by the duplicitous Alpha Legion, Zacariah Kersh is left a reviled figure having failed his Chapter Master and losing the Chapter Standard. Much like with Mortensen in Redemption Corps he is not a likable character in the traditional sense, haunted by his failure and the ghost who heralds the coming of the Damned. This Revenant will follow him throughout the story, allowing Kersh to express his doubts and feelings in relation to the story at large and was something of a masterstroke by Sanders in relation to Kersh's development as a character. It allows him to be more than another cardboard cut out Space Marine, mired in duty and lacking in personality. It makes him easier to relate with, for who hasn't failed at some point in their lives? Add to this the hostile reactions of his subordinates and the ever present threat from without the Chapter, and it's hard to find a moments calm in the 41st millennium.

Having established such a rich and intricate main protagonist and world, one would have hoped for an equally engaging battle. After all, it is in the name of the series. Sadly however, this never quite materialises for a number of reasons. Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, the setting is too small. The planet of Certus Minor is a cemetery world with a tiny population and equally tiny garrison. Possessing but one major city it lacks any great scope and effectively pin holes 40k's greatest strength, its sheer size. The visual of the great Chaos host, the Cholercaust, descending on this tiny Rorke's Drift of a planet is an exciting one, however the fighting never feels heroically desperate, but hopeless and resigned. This is not to say that the visuals are not impressive, the scenes depicted with great care, but rather that they lack that superhuman quality that so defines Bowden's Helsreach or Wraight's struggle for the Fang. It just falls a little flat. As sadly, does the appearance of the Legion of the Damned. In a rather peculiar turn they possess a mere 15 to 20 pages towards the end of the novel, and don't make any great impact upon the reader. They simply appear, do their duty, and fade away. It was all a little lack lustre.

So to conclude, is Legion of the Damned worth your time? Despite never quite reaching it's potential, floundering at the final bolter round, I would have to say yes. Putting aside my own Sanders worshipping it is still an extremely entertaining read, possessing treachery, disaster and the diabolical followers of Chaos. The fact that it falls shy is disappointing but not crippling, a testament to the style and skill with which the author executes the rest of the story. So while there may be too few instances of ghost Astartes spilling Khornate blood, it's still a four star read, even if you are left with a slight niggling at the end for what could have been.