Unnatural Selection: When Your Characters Just Won’t Take a Clue. . .and Die.

In the continued evolution of writing and styling, we explore character deaths, resurrection, gods and the writers who are gods among men.

Good morrow, folks.

Today, we’re taking a dip in our heated pool and reflect on this Diary of The Wasteland Bear God entry titled The Death of a God. . .

So, as I said in the previous entry I was exploring the route of destroying my character and either just killing him off, or going the way of Hollywood and rebooting him. This entry explores a conversation between The Maker and The Bear God and The Bear God’s excessive request for a resurrection.

Some writers often struggle with killing a character off. It can be a villain, a hero, a nobody, a dog, anything. My friend and co-author, Al Debusschere, had a villain that was refusing to die when he was writing a dystopian story. The result was the guy kept coming back, more and more machine-like. Eventually, he was killed and we all celebrated his demise—especially, the heroes.

I figured, what I would make a relatable conversation with my character. They’re voices in your head. They have needs, wants, desires, dreams, everything. You, as a writer, are a god. A god amongst men, yes, but aren’t we already? And gods can and do die. I digress, though. It’s like when two best friends argue, or friends who are totally comfortable with each other (and their own sexuality) that they push it to the limit (on more time?). It’s all in good fun, and that’s what it’s all about (Right, Alfie?).

I also wanted to touch upon how sometimes characters are reimagined projections of other peoples’ thoughts, ideas, emotions—whatever. This points to the political bit, the remarks of “sexist, racist” and “revenge.” A lot of things were going on with 2015 with the LGBT community, politicians claiming they know best (ha!) and people plotting their revenge against others (whether celebrity, political or otherwise). So I touched it, and yes, that is an innuendo. You’re welcome.

Now, when we have our beloved Wasteland hero, The Bear God (aka Sin, The Wasteland Bear God, etc.) eventually rez, he is welcomed back by his flock aka followers. It’s just a return to the raunchy and absurd.

This was one of the few instances where I had The Maker and The Bear God converse (as you’ve read already) and it wouldn’t be the last. I felt it was important to keep the line open. To think that, your maker. . .or god—whatever, was always listening, watching, and you had a direct line. Cool fun. Eventually, it would be “what happens when you sever that line?”

There’s more to come and plenty more to explore in my comedic to a semi-serious story of The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God. Continue the journey. Get ripped. Love the smell. LOVE IT!

Until next time. . .tomorrow.

RJM


The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God Logo

The Diary of the Wasteland Bear God

Season One: Episode Ten

[The Death of a God. . .]

“Here He lies, spread. . .and dead. Fear not, friends, for He will rise and usher in a new era. Death is only the beginning, and with it comes new the end for someone else.” 

—Smug “Rug” McGee, Death’s of Today’s Legends 3:16


A massive crater smolders, and in its center are the remains of the alleged Mighty Bear God. His flock circles around the crater, some sobbing, some cursing, and others touching themselves—placing ashes in. . .places.

Smitten by The Maker, for his constant “nope,” and other. . .irritating remarks, and for touching The Maker at the bar on the bum, and His manly bits. Some would probably consider it an act of revenge…or that it was sexist. . .or racist—whatever. The Maker does what He wants when He wants how He wants it! And there ain’t no one who can say otherwise!

“So. . .are you gonna actually kill me off now, or are you gonna resurrect me? It’s cold here. . .” inquired the Mighty Bear God from the void.

“I’m still debating. . .hush up. Let me finish.” replied The Maker, as He kept on typing.

“Look, I was drunk when I, uh, I ‘touched’ you. Plus, I thought you kinda liked it. At least, you seemed to. Should. . .should we talk about this?”

. . .No. . .”

“C’mon. . .dude. . .c’mon. . .DUDE. . .C’MON, DUDE. . .DUDE, C’MON, DUDE!”

. . .

“REZ, REZ, REZ, REZ, REZ, REZ PLEASE!”

. . .

“JUST FUCKING RESURRECT ME ALREADY, GOD!”

. . .

“I’ll pay for the drinks this weekend?”

“And the food.”

“Fair enough. Anything else?”

“Go get a job.”

“. . .uh. . .I’m working on it?”

“Not hard enough, you’re not!”

“Yeah, well, give me some Viagra, and I’ll show you hard.”

“You really need to work on that.”

“You made me what I am! It’s not my fault! You know what I am going to say anyways.”

“Oh no, don’t go blaming me. Why does everyone that fucks up blames the Maker? Or God, or Gods [Goddesses] —whatever supreme being? TAKE. SOME. FUCKING. RESPONSIBILITY.” [The Maker sighs]

“Fair enough, and I see your point. . .but. . .literally, you know what I am going to do, say, etc. I guess, I am you, and you are. . .me?”

“Yeah, I suppose to a point. Whatever. Go ahead. Be reborn and all that nonsensical shit. Just don’t forget.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. . .I’m buying,” The Mighty Bear God sighed. “Such a whiny bitch,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” replied The Maker as He finished casting His resurrection spell.

“Nothing—” the words trailed off, hinting at a grin, as The Mighty Bear God was reborn anew.

* * * *

A blinding white light emanated above the crater. Winds billowed and howled, scattering dirt, dust, and debris to the four winds. The flock all cringed, and forced a peek through their shielded eyes.

A monstrous roar bellowed across The Wasteland. “I HAVE RETURNED, BITCHES!”

The Mighty Bear God landed, paws on the ground, causing it to shake and rumble. He appeared more or less the same, except with black leather goggles, deep brown fur that radiated brilliantly under the sun, in contrast to the already dull earth beneath his enormous paws. He was also gifted with his mecha set, which was now fused with his being; providing quick equipment changes, and upgrades he could possibly find. . .or craft.

He smiled vibrantly at his new physique, and at the fact, his followers were all on their knees—praising for his return.

“Everyone. . .rise. Get to your feet, and get your packs. We have places to go, and infidels to purge from these lands.” The Mighty Bear God spoke calm, assertive, and with a sense of renewal.

His bowels were also cleansed.


THE DIARY OF THE WASTELAND BEAR GOD IS AN ONGOING A.B.NORMAL PUBLISHING EXCLUSIVE STORY BY ROBERT J. S. T. MCCARTNEY. CHECK HERE FOR MORE POSTS!

Author: Sincados

Writer, gamer, foodie, brew enthusiast, and awesome dad. Also likes to make explosions...but not in any particular order.

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