The Worldsmiths
Talk about this entry.
User vote for this entry.
Members vote for this entry.
Godlike beings arrive on Earth and change it into
a vast, surreal, 24-hour TV show for their own amusement, with people
picked at random and transformed into celebrity “heroes”
against their will. A group of these decide to fight back.
One day the world went nuts. The former head of an entertainment
company appeared on TV screens across the nation, calling himself
“The Master of Ceremonies” and declaring that, from
now on, he would be aiming for a new audience. Almost immediately,
bizarre events and transformations took place around the world—suddenly,
random people were being plucked from their lives and forced to
take part in adventures or undergo ordeals, all of it captured
on invisible cameras and broadcast on every medium. Some were
transformed in strange ways, or found themselves living entirely
new lives. For some it was like getting everything they ever wanted.
For others, it was like a living hell.
Some resisted. Some fought. But the MC and the forces that he
served were too powerful, and besides, most people were lucky
enough to remain unaffected. The world eventually embraced the
new paradigm of unending entertainment and celebrity heroes.
John Ryerson was one of the very first to be chosen. Gifted with
awesome powers by the MC and sent on wild adventures, he was able
to live out his childhood fantasies of being a superhero. He became
Johnny Angel, part of the Dream Team, the first and, for a time,
most popular of the new breed of celebrities. After a few years,
though, both regular people and the mysterious audience seemed
to lose interest. The Dream Team disbanded, Johnny found his powers
fading, and suddenly he was a has-been.
It was at this time he was approached by a mysterious man calling
himself Daedalus Down. He’s an inventor and industrialist,
or was before the MC changed everything. He says he knows how
to restore Johnny’s powers, and he wants to do so in order
to have him join a team he’s putting together. Composed
of people who have similarly been transformed and had their lives
destroyed, their goal is simple: to throw a monkey wrench into
the world of passive spectators and constant entertainment created
by the MC and his backers, the Worldsmiths.
Page 1
Panel 1. This panel takes up the whole lefthand side of the first
page. It is displaying a picture of EMERSON BELAGGIO, aka THE MASTER
OF CEREMONIES, or M. C. He is impossibly thin, goateed, and dressed
in a psychedelic ringmaster’s uniform with cravat, gloves,
and tall, thin top hat, all in eye-scorching colours and circus-clown
style. He gesticulates with wild exaggeration to an inferred audience
and wields an old-fashioned microphone. He is standing in a spotlight;
the microphone wire runs off into the darkness. Otherwise, no background,
just darkness.
CAPTION:
The Day the World Went Nuts.
M.C.:
Ladies and Gentlemen! Lizards and Crocodiles!
M.C.:
Bullfrogs and Pollywogs and Children of all ages!
M.C.:
I invite you one and all to roll up, to partake of this experience,
to stand witness at the dawn of a new era!
Panel 2. Panel 2-4 are stacked one on top of the other on the righthand
side. Eschewing the traditional “TV Storefront window”,
let’s go with the electronics section in a mall—stacks
and stacks of shiny high-def TVs, most of them broadcasting the
M.C.’s image—though a few aren’t. We may see a
silhouette or two of customers, stopped to watch.
M.C.:
As of this moment, I am broadcasting live simultaneously on all
channels owned by my corporation, which you doubtless all know
and love.
Panel 3. We are on a close-up of a computer screen in a nondescript,
darkened study; the M.C. is visible on a pop-up window, YouTube
or some similar video program with “play”, “pause”,
and similar buttons at the bottom.
M.C.:
This broadcast will also be available in a variety of formats
on the web. It will be repeated on news programs and in front
of movies.
M.C.:
It’s that important, you see.
Panel 4. The M.C.’s image is now appearing on a gigantic
viewscreen on the side of a building at night—Times Square?
Tokyo? Somewhere where other neon lights are visible at the edge
of the frame. He is leaning in conspiratorially and grinning devilishly
right out at the viewer.
M.C.:
No doubt you are wondering if I have gone mad.
Page 2
Panel 1. This page is made up of a series of page-wide horizontal panels, stacked on top of each other. The characters we’re seeing on this page are in fact our heroes, though we probably won’t realize that just yet. In this first one, we see a little girl, eight years old, seated on a living room floor, wearing a somewhat frilly, cutesy dress and holding a stuffed lizard. Her eyes are fixed on the TV, which stands in the foreground (its back to us), from which the M.C.’s voice emanates. The point of view here is on the level of the floor, so we only see the girls’ parents’ legs, but we can tell they are seated on the couch behind her.
M.C. (Over):
For those of you unaware, I am Emerson Belaggio, media mogul, genius, and visionary—yes, I’ll have no truck with false modesty—and I come before you tonight to direct your attention to a most serious problem.
Panel 2. This panel shows a teenage African girl in a small village. She is clutching a young boy, her brother, to her side, and there are a few other inhabitants listening in. Note that they are wearing modern, western-style clothing. The M.C.'s voice emanates from a radio leaning against the wall of a shack.
M.C. (Over):
You see, those of us in the media who would keep you entertained and informed have faced a difficulty of late.
M.C. (Over):
The obsession with “reality programming” seems to be with us in perpetuity at this point.
Panel 3. This panel shows a somewhat red-eyed and sickly man, in his late twenties, but looking older than his years. He sits at a desk, facing us; through a nearby window we can see tropical foliage growing in a city with architecture that places it somewhere in India or South Asia . (It is broad daylight here.) On the desk sits a typewriter, which the man isn’t touching; crumpled paper lies around it. A bottle of scotch rests next to the typewriter, which he clutches protectively. There is also a small statuette of Ganesh, a Hindu god. The M.C.’s broadcast is coming from a radio nearby, to which the man is listening in spite of himself.
M.C. (Over):
And of course it’s not surprising. Why wouldn’t one want to witness reality? To see the unvarnished truth of things?
Panel 4. Here we see a hospital room. A woman lies on the bed—she is in the extreme foreground and we don’t get a very good look at her, but she appears to be wrapped in bandages—she is actually undergoing treatment for third degree burns, but for now we only need to get a general sense that she is seriously injured. We are looking “over her shoulder”, as it were, up at the TV mounted in the ceiling, as is typical for some hospitals. Obviously, the M.C. is on the screen.
M.C. (Over):
I’ll tell you why, ladies and gentlemen.
M.C. (Over):
Because it’s BORING.
M.C. (Over):
And painful and depressing and scary and guilt-inducing, of course. But mostly boring.
Panel 5. This final panel is of a darkened but richly-appointed study, the huge windows looking out over a twinkling, night-time cityscape. Seated at the desk, seen from the front, we see a well-built and handsome black man in his mid-to-late twenties. He is staring intently at his computer screen, from which the M.C.’s spiel is emanating. You can tell that he is thinking furiously about what he’s watching.
M.C. (Over):
You think you crave reality, but you don’t want it when you get it.
M.C. (Over):
What, then, is a poor showman to do?
M.C. (Over):
The answer:
M.C. (Over):
Make reality more interesting.
Page 3
Panel 1. This panel takes up perhaps the top third of the page.
We are looking “over the shoulder” of a teenage kid
who is watching the M.C. on an iPod screen, headphones in his ears.
He is a somewhat skinny redhead, though we don’t get too much
of a look at him just yet; the focus is on the M.C. The kid is sitting
on grass, and it is getting dark out.
M.C.
So today, I put aside my former persona, and adopt this new one.
M.C.
You may refer to me henceforth as The Master of Ceremonies.
M.C.
I bring you the strange and never-ending phantasmagoria, the show
of shows, the great escape to nowhere, the spectacular pageant
of the 21st century…
M.C.
The Theater of the Real.
Panel 2. This panel spans the page horizontally. We see a group
of teenagers, out after sunset, in a field somewhere. Perhaps a
glimpse of a cornfield in the distance. There’s a campfire
around which they’re sitting. In the foreground on the left
is the scrawny redhead, ROB, focused on his iPod; behind him are
SALLY, a serious-looking brunette with a bob cut, and MAC, a black
kid with a leather jacket, sitting on logs. Mac is holding a comic
book, with a couple more sitting next to him. Behind that, at the
righthand side of the panel, we see a car, on the trunk of which
are sitting a young and handsome, all-American, Jack & Diane-type
couple: JOHNNY and SUE. Johnny looks downcast.
CAPTION:
Just outside Iverson, Ohio
ROB:
Guys, check out what’s on my iPod here! It’s really
weird--
SALLY:
C’mon, Rob, get those things out of your ears. We’re
supposed to be cheering up John.
JOHN:
Don’t mind me, Sally. I’m nobody important.
Panel 3. Two shot of Johnny and Sue; we get a better look at just
how morose Johnny seems. Sue is taking out a cigarette and looking
away, a mixture of shame and contempt on her face.
MAC (Off):
Don’t even be whining at us. Just because you didn’t
get into flight school, doesn’t mean it’s the end
of the world.
JOHNNY:
You’re right, Mac. Now I can go with Sue to LA after graduation
and support her while she tries to be an actress.
JOHNNY:
Whoop.
Panel 4. Close up of Sue as she lights the cigarette, against the
backdrop of the starry sky.
SUE:
John?
SUE:
I think we should see other people.
Page 4
Panel 1. Page-width but fairly narrow panel. Shot from above, looking
down at the five kids, as if from a helicopter hovering overhead.
A bright light shines down on them…but it’s not a copter
spotlight; it’s a weird, unnatural shade of blue. The kids
all look up, shielding their eyes, startled, their conversation
forgotten.
MAC:
Wha?
SALLY:
?!?
Panel 2. This is a large panel, taking up about 50% of the page.
We are at a low angle, the kids and car in the middleground, looking
up at the thing that is shining the light on them. It is…well,
we’re not really sure what it is. “Alien spaceship”
is the first thing that leaps to mind, but that doesn’t really
do it justice. It also sort of looks like a hovering football stadium
as designed by Salvador Dali. In fact, there are some crenellations
that look like you might see in an old-fashioned theater, as well
as flags flying at the top and a ring of trumpet-like megaphones
(?) from which is emanating something incomprehensible—a bizarre
alien language. The most prominent feature, and the creepiest, is
a huge, staring eyeball in the front, looking down on the kids;
it is from this that the light is beaming. Sue, still on the hood
of the car, clutches Johnny in terror; the others, needless to say,
don’t look much less frightened.
ROB:
Holy jeez…I…we…
SUE:
Oh God Johnny what is it?!? What is it, I’m afraid, Johnny,
is it coming to get us?!? We have to go, we have to run, Johnny,
run, Johnny, RUN—
Panel 3. This is another page-spanning panel, same size as Panel
1 on this page. It is a solid mass of black with white script, the
kind you’d see in a rough edit of a film:
CAPTION:
(SCENE MISSING)
Page 5
Panel 1. A close up of Johnny. He is looking alarmed, angry, and
terrified. And well he should be. He is floating in a tank of green
fluid, a breathing mask on his face, and various diodes and wires
attached to his skin—kind of Matrix-y. He also has an earpiece
in.
VOICE (Off):
Hello.
VOICE (Off):
I know this must be disorienting for you. I’d like to apologize
for that.
Panel 2. We see from Johnny’s POV. Peering in though the
large glass cylinder, his face slightly distorted, we see the already-familiar
face of the M.C. He is grinning exuberantly, like a kid in a candy
store, and speaking into his microphone. Behind him stand a woman
in a sort of skintight unitard with the company logo on it—ETHERON,
INC.--and the kind of little pillbox hat you associate with stewardesses.
She has purple hair—though we probably won’t be able
to tell in this panel, with everything tinted green through the
fluid in which Johnny is floating--and is holding a clipboard. Behind
both of them stands a huge, muscular man—well, maybe not a
man. There is nothing but an antenna where his head would normally
be. It appears to be some kind of robot in a tuxedo. Very odd.
M.C.:
It’s been a very busy week for me, you see, and a certain
brusqueness was required in order to meet the schedule.
M.C.:
But I really think we’ve done remarkably, under the circumstances.
Panel 3. A page-spanning panel. We now see that there are five
of these glass cylinders, each holding one of the teenagers, each
one wearing only the bare minimum required for decency, covered
in diodes and floating in a tank. The M.C. and his companions stand
before them, his back to us. In the foreground, we can see the large
room we are in—a huge, Area 51-like airplane hangar/high tech
hangout filled with electronic equipment and so on. Operating the
computers, checking notes on clipboards, and puttering around in
little vehicles are a whole bunch of men and women dressed in jumpsuits
like the one worn by the M.C.’s female companion. It’s
all sort of like a cross between a retro-futuristic airport and
a James Bond’s villain’s lair.
M.C.:
Someday, my children, this will all be yours!
Panel 4. Full shot of the M.C., Johnny in the cylinder behind him.
We see Johnny clenching his fists, looking furious. The M.C. motions
outwards towards us, the viewer—his gestures tend to be flamboyant
and overdramatic.
M.C.:
Oh, there’s so much to tell you all. You must be bursting
with questions.
M.C.:
To begin with, you’ve been the captives of The Worldsmiths.
What that means is that…
Panel 5. Johnny, eyes closed, arms raised, is going
through some kind of convulsions. Energy seems to be building up
around him, projecting like an aura around his form.
JOHNNY:
Rrrrrrrrrr--
Page 6
Panel 1. Every panel on this page is full-width. Here, the cylinder
containing Johnny bursts open, fluid pouring out, and the diodes
and pipes bursting loose. Johnny himself is rising into the air;
the “aura” of energy is shooting out and causing the
detruction. It’s not crackling electricity, but rather, something
that somehow projects the sense of magnetic fields, with a series
of concentric rings expanding and fading outwards.
JOHNNY:
NNNNNGGGGGGUUUUUUUUH!!!!!
Panel 2. Large panel, low angle. Johnny is hovering in the air
above his ruined tank, looking amazed at what he just did. We get
a better look at the energy field he is projecting, now in a more
passive state; it seems to be emanating out from somewhere in his
chest, two sets of great looping concentric ovoids, like ripples
in a golden pool. They resemble wings, and thus make Johnny look
like an angel. On either side of him, Sue (on the left) and Mac
(on the right) watch in amazement from their own tanks. The M.C.
is on the far end of the panel, looking up in obvious glee.
M.C.:
Oh, wonderful, wonderful! I knew it would work, I knew it!
M.C.:
The Worldsmiths changed you, my boy. They changed all of you.
They’ve given you the opportunity of a lifetime.
M.C.:
And this is but the first of their works. Oh, this old world will
never be the same.
M.C.:
It’s a wonderful, terrible time we have ahead of us, and
a wonderful show planned here at the Theater of the Real.
Panel 3. Extreme close up of the M.C., grinning, goateed, gazing
out at us at his most Mephistophelian.
M.C.:
So tell me: who wants to be a hero?
|
