DT Moviehouse Review: The Chronicles Of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

Time once more for my blog feature, DT Moviehouse Reviews, in which I make my way alphabetically through my 200+ DVD/Blu-Ray collection (you can see the list right here)and decide if each one was worth the money. Today, I review the Chronicles Of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.

Directed by Andrew Adamson

Screenplay by Andrew Adamson, Ann Peacock, Christopher Markus, and Stephen McFeely

Tagline: The beloved masterpiece comes to life.

MPW-14671

What It’s About:

In the midst of the German bombardment of London during World War 2, four children are sent to the country to live with their eccentric uncle. During a game of hide and seek they pass through an enchanted wardrobe into the magic land of Narnia where they become embroiled in a war between its good creatures, led by the lion Aslan (voiced by Liam Neeson) and the White Witch Jadis (Tilda Swinton) and her dark army.

Why I Bought It:

I was not introduced to fantasy by C.S. Lewis, but probably by Rankin and Bass’ Hobbit cartoon and Ralph Bakshi’s Lord of The Rings, which in turn led me to the original Tolkien novels, Robert E. Howard’s Conan, and most importantly, Dungeons and Dragons, the roleplaying game that supercharged my imagination early on. I spent untold hours in the basement of a friend’s house rolling dice and eating junk food while the older players passed the Captain Morgan and we took on hordes of monsters and each other in bleary-eyed sessions morning and night. I couldn’t get enough of fantasy.

I had read the entire Narnia series by the time this movie came out, so it was a given I was going to see it, but I remembered Lewis as being a bit bland, and so I didn’t expect to like this as much as I did. I saw it with my best friend, a guy who I’d once watched turn his human thief into a fire breathing, flying minotaur trapped for all eternity inside a diamond (a magic Deck of Many Things, a few lucky Wish pulls and a complete inability to quit while he was ahead had culminated in this) and when the final battle sequence began with its dizzying array of Monster Manual denizens, we’d both turned to each other, looking past our wives in nerd-gasmic, bug-eyed appreciation, both of us I think, in that moment, really WANTING to be in Narnia.

e4cc9d4c53b1bf5a2b7edd1ef8bce7e4Following a cast of child actors can be pretty hit or miss. You can be blessed with Harry Potter or The Goonies, or damned to the ninth circle of Mary-Kate and Ashley Skywalker. The kids assembled to portray the Pevensie kids are winsome and earnest, and don’t come across as the type with a celebrity and money obsessed parent breathing down their necks, shoving them into the closet with St. Sebastian when they don’t hit their marks (or whatever showbiz parents do).

45b3874fbebeb72ddac3c01c986d7764Young Lucy (Georgie Hensley) is a standout, plucky and yet sensitive, with a great gosh-golly-wow face. I’d just had my first daughter when I saw this and she won me over pretty quick. I can’t even hear that Alanis Morrisette song that plays during the credits without picturing her now. The scene where she is betrayed by Mr. Tumnus (James McAvoy) is a particularly good display of her talent. Her bewilderment at the fawn’s lie (which, under the director’s hand, has an almost unseemly, exploitative feel, like a prelude to molestation in some darker Todd Solondz movie) comes across well.

Likewise Edmund (Skander Keynes) is sufficiently shifty, but doesn’t play his seduction by the White Witch so that we can’t forgive him later. Peter (William Moseley) is as heroic as you want him to be, and Anna Popplewell as the much-maligned Susan….I wish she had gotten the chance to play the character to the end of her involvement in the series, because I think from this (and Prince Caspian, the sequel) she had the chops to make it interesting.

Jadisedmundcastle1Tilda Swinton is as ever icy and ethereal as the White Queen Jadis, alluring and cruel as first crushes often are, which gets you in Edmund’s shoes pretty well. “I know she’s evil, but dang, I really want her to be good, so I’ll give it a go. Besides, Turkish Delights! So she must like me.” Jadis’ dwarf henchman Ginarrbrikk is played by Kiran Shah, who was the kid who let the monkey poison the dates in Raiders of The Lost Ark. Liam Neeson’s voice rivals James Earl Jones’ as the sound of ultimate paternal love in the form of Aslan the lion. Other recognizable voices include Michael Madsen as the Witch’s rough right-hand wolf who sounds like he’s ready to chew your ear off at any minute, and Ray Winstone as the salty, blue collar Mr. Beaver. James Cosmo has a memorable cameo as the most kick ass Santa Claus ever.

The CG animals are only a little difficult to accept, and even then, only initially. When blended with live action, its practically perfect, particularly as on display in the epic final battle sequence. For the most part the FX are great, and surprisingly bright and four color, eschewing the typical rule of using shadow to obscure the seams.  Narnia is a sumptuous land, with bright, beautiful scenery and luxuriant textures, as any storybook land should seem.

Narnia has a reputation as a Christian fantasy series. I guess there is some element of that on display in the character of Aslan, whose arc may be a bit mystifying if you don’t take his origins into account. Yet I wouldn’t say it pushes an agenda. I don’t feel proselytized to watching it. It’s just a pretty straightforward good vs. evil story.

chronicles-of-narnia-the-lion-the-witch-and-the-wardrobe-the-20051019035129270-000What I really love about this movie is it feels like an 80’s throwback. In the 80’s we had fantasy movies like Dragonslayer, Ladyhawke, Legend, and Excalibur, movies that were never embarrassed of what they were. Even Jackson’s much-lauded Lord Of The Rings movies are peppered with anachronistic winks at the audience (that awful, awful Dwarf tossing joke). Narnia has a bunch of kids from our world in a fantasy realm, and they they aren’t cracking wise and giving us Poochie MST3K commentary. They’re in it, and it’s as real as can be. I like that the kids don’t take a rear echelon Pokemon role in any of the action. They’re in the thick of the fight at all times. It makes their ultimate enthronement more deserved, more satisfying, and their sudden departure back to their own lives (as if they’d never left) more poignant.

Best Dialogue/Line:

The one that gets me is right before the final battle.

Peter has been thrust into the role of commander of this vast army, and he sits atop a unicorn in shining armor with a magic sword, possibly every boy’s dream, and certainly mine. But he has this moment where he looks to his centaur second in command (played wonderfully by Patrick Kake) and asks, as a kid in a bit over his head might;

“Are you with me?”

And the centaur has this great look on his face, a sort of bewilderment at the question. Aslan, for all intents and purposes his god, has chosen this kid to lead them, so there’s not a doubt in his mind. He sort of shakes his head and furrows his brow in an ‘of course’ manner.

“To the death,” he says.

Best Scene:

maxresdefaultWell I keep talking up that final battle, don’t I? It’s every storybook fantasy battle you’ve ever dreamed of, with the ‘bad’ critters on one side (Minotaurs, werewolves, goat-men, bumbling giants, etc) and the ‘goodies’ on the other. There’s a fantastic shot where Peter in his shining armor, gallops on a freakin’ unicorn at the vanguard of this contingent of centaur cavalry. The centaurs lower their lances and a group of racing cheetahs pull ahead of the army, while on the opposite side, a group of white tigers rush to meet them. There’s a pullback to the whole battlefield and the music (which I must mention is really cool during this sequence, very 80’s Vangelis sound) cuts out to a pre-clash heartbeat. Then these great cats just bash into each other ahead of their respective hoses, and go tumbling. It’s not a bloody battle, but the violence is there, and dramatic. Jadis petrifies enemy combatants, even turning a diving hippogriff to stone in passing so that it crashes into the ground in fragments.

Would I Buy It Again? Yes. And this reminds me to revisit the others.

Next In The Queue:

Cimarron

Advertisements

The Muttwhelp In Blackguards/Blacklist Out Today from Ragnarok

Out today in e-formats from Ragnarok Publications, publisher of my forthcoming novella collection With Sword And Pistol this August, is Blackguards, a dark fantasy fiction anthology centered around the exploits of rogues, assassins, and general do-badders.

The book features –

CAROL BERG, “Seeds”
RICHARD LEE BYERS, “Troll Trouble”
DAVID DALGLISH, “Take You Home”
JAMES ENGE, “Thieves at the Gate”
JOHN GWYNNE, “Better to Live than to Die”
LIAN HEARN, “His Kikuta Hands”
SNORRI KRISTJANSSON, “A Kingdom and a Horse”
JOSEPH LALLO, “Seeking the Shadow”
MARK LAWRENCE, “The Secret”
TIM MARQUITZ, “A Taste of Agony”
PETER ORULLIAN, “A Length of Cherrywood”
CAT RAMBO, “The Subtler Art”
LAURA RESNICK, “Friendship”
MARK SMYLIE, “Manhunt”
KENNY SOWARD, “Jancy’s Justice”
SHAWN SPEAKMAN, “The White Rose Thief”
JON SPRUNK, “Sun and Steel”
ANTON STROUT, “Scream”
MICHAEL J. SULLIVAN, “Professional Integrity”
DJANGO WEXLER, “The First Kill”
ANTHONY RYAN, “The Lord Collector”
PAUL S. KEMP, “A Better Man”
JAMES A. MOORE, “What Gods Demand”
JEAN RABE, “Mainon”
BRADLEY P. BEAULIEU, “Irindai”
S.R. CAMBRIDGE, “”The Magus and the Betyar”
CLAY SANGER, “The Long Kiss”

It features an introduction by Glen Cook, author of the infamous Black Company.

As a companion to the e-release, readers also get Blacklist, a compendium of eleven bonus stories –

ROB J. HAYES, “To the End”
REBECCA LOVATT, “To Steal the Moon”
ANTHONY LOWE, “The Lonesome Dark”
LINDA ROBERTSON, “Comeuppance”
SAM KNIGHT, “The Assassination of Poppy Smithswife”
S.M. WHITE, “Telhinsol’s Shadow”
NOAH HEINRICH, “The Laughing Wind”
MIKE THEODORSSON, “Bloody Gratitude”
BRENDA CARRE, “Gret”
ERIK SCOTT DE BIE, “Angel of Tears”

and finally my own Ork-centric tale The Muttwhelp, about a half-Ork bandit chief, master and reluctant protector of a gang of bloodthirsty goblins, who is recruited into a dark Ork army and unexpectedly reunites with his long estranged father. Think of it as A Boy Named Sue with Orks.

Readers of my usual fare may think of this as a departure story, but in truth, fantasy fiction was probably the first I ever wrote. After discovering Robert E. Howard and J.R.R. Tolkien almost in the same summer of ’88 or ’89, I immediately set about creating my own epic fantasy world, populated with cocky rogues, earnest swordsmen, and a crafty goblin villain named Redshat. I filled notebooks with stories of the land of Wayfar, and scrawled out highly detailed maps that would’ve swelled the heart of any Dungeonmaster worth the title.

I moved onto other projects as my writing progressed, but I guess the smoky towers of Rentellevaire and the crashing waves of the Billow never really left me. It took Dungeons and Dragons to bring me back there.

dd-bboxI think I’ve written here before of my recent return to fantasy roleplaying games after a dry spell of over fifteen years. I was wrapping up another full length fantasy story, an Arthurian novel, The Knight With Two Swords, which will see the light of day at some point next year, and D&D’s latest iteration got my mind moving further in the swords and sorcery direction. The first character I created on a whim to get back into playing, though I didn’t know it then, turned out to be a mixed blood denizen of old Wayfar.

Yeah, this story began as a D&D character.

I know that’s considered a huge no-no, but what the hell, the editors liked the character and the story enough to include it, and I was paid, so I guess not every rule applies every time. Anyway, I think the commandment against writing about your RPG characters is because some people like to play their ideal selves. I see D&D as a fun exercise and I highly recommend it to all my writer friends. I’ve always been more interested in playing (and playing with) cowards, narrow minded fanatics, naive bumpkins, incompetents, layabouts, neurotics, and incurable alcoholics in my D&D sessions because I like to think about how they exist in the world of heroic fantasy. I enjoy seeing them interact with truly heroic or adept characters. Those personality clashes and occasional monkey wrenches are, I think, what makes a game interesting, and turns the static into the dynamic. The Mary Sue, the Munchkin, these have never appealed to me very much as a player.

Anyway, enough about my hobbies.

unnamedI’ve read and seen countless epic fantasies where a dark army rises in the south/east/north to threaten the ‘good’ kingdoms of the world. It’s very often a mottled horde of subhuman goblins and orcs led by some charismatic personality, usually a wizard or evil god. There’s an inherent Eurocentrism which I could delve into here, but this writer and his comments section address it pretty well and I encourage you to read about it there if you’re inclined. 

I’ve never personally read a story told from the point of view of a front line soldier in one of those bad guy legions.

orcsThat’s what attracted me to the call for Blacklist. I saw in it a way to do one of those POV stories of a ground level soldier in an epic war, as ambivalent to the higher machinations of his lofty, power hungry commanders as perhaps the average grunt in some far flung war is now to the politicos running it. What kind of a person enlists in an army of darkness, and for what reasons do such people band together? They can’t all be deceived as the Haridrim of Middle Earth, or simply evil.

I also conceived of the idea of seeing how the actions of one man can precipitate a shift in history, sometimes unintentionally, as in the assassination of Duke Ferdinand by Gavrilo Pincrip, and I like the concept of inadvertent and often unwelcome heroism, as portrayed in the Flashman stories of George MacDonald Fraser.

bloodbowlFinally, I’ve been a fan of orcs and goblins probably since my Games Workshop days. I have never actually played the complicated and expensive wargames that spawned all those amazingly detailed little figures, but I did play Blood Bowl, and appreciated the personality that came forth in the writing and sculpting of those kinds of characters.

Anyway, here’s a bit from The Muttwhelp. Please check it out.

—————————————————————————————–

Mogarth had fallen into the leadership of the Bellygashers by happenstance.

As a muttwhelp, the son of some nameless ork raider who had ravaged his human mother and left her hanging half-dead and bleeding from an oak tree on his grandfather’s farm outside Glean, he had never quite fit in anywhere. Most muttwhelps never made it to the birthing, or were hacked to death in their cradles or drowned. His tenderhearted mother had suckled him, even though his tusk nubs had scarred her nipples. She had raised him, even though it had isolated her from her own family and neighbors, and educated him by the hearth light when the scowling master at the Glean schoolhouse had turned him away, an ugly, green skinned babe snuffling snot and bitter tears into her apron.

He had worked down in those golden fields till one winter when his mother had caught a deep chill in her chest and sickened past caring, wasting to death when the robins returned. He had tried to keep the old farm going after that, but none of the merchants in Glean would buy his yield, or sell him seed, and he couldn’t afford any intermediary agent.

He had burned the farm to the ground and salted the fields to ensure none of the hateful pinkskins could use it in his wake.

orcsittingHe rubbed his rough hand over his stubbled head. He could still see the bare patch of land down in the valley where his home had once stood.

Mogarth had departed for Crossbow Hollow, the eastern gateway to the Golden Lap Valley and its most populous city, taking only the old blue shirt his mother had woven for him and the silver handled whip his father had left tied around her scarred throat.

The whip. His only heirloom. A cruel black thing with a barbed popper and a gnashing jackal’s head wrought in tarnished silver encasing the knotted handle.

“Home again, eh, boss?” Redshat said, having noticed Mogarth’s eyes, staring down at the valley waiting to be crushed flat and burned by the Black Army.

“No home of mine,” Mogarth grumbled.

In truth, the closest thing he had to home after his mother’s death had been with the Bellygashers, though he’d never admit it to Redshat.

The people in Crossbow Hollow hadn’t treated him any better than the humans of Glean. No one would hire him, not even the stableyard master. Unable to secure work he’d taken to making money any way he could. Naturally large, he had earned a meager living fighting in the sawdust pits for a time, when a scheming promoter had convinced him it was possible to retire on a brawler’s winnings. But the crowds, most of them missing limbs or loved ones from the frequent ork raids, had hated him, and when it had been suggested he begin losing to please them, he turned to cutpursing and bashing the skulls of drunks late at night.

When the Hartslayers had brought in the Bellygasher Gang one night and left them locked in the jail wagon out in front of Bintu’s Tavern while they threw themselves a congratulatory celebration, he had gathered with the rest of the drunken crowd and watched them jeer and pitch dog shit and beer at the five little sable skinned goblins gripping the bars and gnashing their black needle teeth within.

The Bellygashers already had a reputation for waylaying travelers. Their leader, Picknose’s brother Pickscab, had thought it a great joke to tie travelers alive to trees, cut their stomachs open, then fasten their intestines to the saddle horns of their own horses and lash them down the road to town.

The Hartslayers, unappreciative of his humor but savoring irony, had done the same for Pickscab. They’d slit him open and tied his guts to the back of the prison wagon. They’d made him march behind until he’d died and then dragged his carcass the rest of the way to town. Picknose had tried to cut his brother loose, but his claws couldn’t reach through the bars. He had still bore the gray scars of his effort on his skinny arms.

Something in the cruelty of the Hartslayers had rankled Mogarth, even though he’d known well it was deserved punishment. The sight of the town dogs tearing Pickscab’s corpse apart as the squealing little pink children fetched up the goblin’s cast off genitals and flung them back and forth at each other had boiled his blood.

Maybe it was because somewhere back in his own cursed heritage, gobbos were kin to orks. Maybe it was just the ugliness on display that night. He didn’t know.

He’d set fire to the Hartslayers’ constabulary and, while everybody had gone off with buckets to fight the blaze, he’d picked the lock of the cage and gone running off into the dark with the tumbling, chittering goblins.

It hadn’t been easy leading that bunch at first. Gobbos weren’t bright, and they were disgusting. A few times that first night he’d woken to find one of them gnawing at his toes, or two of them trying to tie his hands and feet, but after giving them a respectable thrashing, they’d relented to his company. Once he’d made them understand there was more to be gained from robbing travelers of their gold than in simply torturing them, they’d even accepted him as their boss.

He had maintained his innocuous presence in town, but he used the money from their subsequent robberies to build a cabin in the foothills on the outskirts where he pretended to raise sheep. In actuality, he bred them for the Bellygashers, who exchanged live mutton for gold and jewelry. Picknose still insisted on honoring his late brother’s memory with the occasional disembowelment, but Mogarth was able to keep them informed as to the Hartslayer’s movements. They charted the forest and even the sewer tunnels beneath the town so they always had a place to hide.

It could not be called happiness. It was never quite a family, but it was contentment.

goblinhordeThen one night the scouts of the Black Army had come to Mogarth’s cabin, three muttwhelps, like him. He had never seen so many altogether, and one, Bashka, was a female.

Odius Khan had emerged at the head of the united ork tribes from somewhere past the Broken Tooth Mountains, and allied his people with the Witch Queen and her numerous retainers among the dark folk of Wayphar. The animosity with which the five tribes regarded each other was legendary, and so this alliance under the great Odius was unprecedented. Combined with the might of the Witch Queen, it meant the end for the humans and the dwarves and even the elves and the fairies. It meant a new world for folk like him.

So Bashka and the other muttwhelps had told him.

He didn’t know now quite why he had bought into it so readily. Maybe it was the sight of Bashka. She had been no prize, certainly, with her too-broad hips and pendulous chest, her dripping snout and ornamented tusks, but nevertheless, she’d been female and willing. Maybe it was the thought of not having to live in isolation, or to pay well above the market price for the touch of some pinkskin woman.

So he and the Bellygashers had joined the Black Army. Orks, goblins, ogres, and trolls, all under the command of Odius Khan and the Ork Lords. They had skulked and scouted, fought and died, and he and Bashka had rolled and bucked to his content for a time.

But for what?

tolkien_the-hobbit_the-clouds-burst-3_hagueThe orks treated them no better than the humans had. The muttwhelps were worse than servants in camp, bullied and ordered about like slaves, as hated for their human blood as he had been by the valley dwellers for his father’s. Bashka was expected to present herself to any rank and file ork or ogre in the host, and did so readily, submissively, until the perennially drunken orks raucously encouraged her coupling with an overeager crag troll and she was killed, torn nearly asunder.

The gobbos fared no better. They were kicked around by the larger soldiers when they were noticed at all, and driven in the forefront of the fighting always, to die by the scores. The trolls dipped them in barrels of pitch and hurtled them over the walls of castles on fire. They were instructed to roll across the thatch roofs or run through the enemy stables for as long as they could, if they landed alive.

Mogarth and his Bellygashers avoided such treatment after Mogarth himself had set a precedent.

One day, not long after the death of Bashka, a burly Broken Tooth Clan sergeant had tried to bend him over a cask of bilemead. The Bellygashers had scurried out from nowhere and swarmed the offender, biting, clawing, stabbing, and digging in with their hooked iron ankle and elbow spurs all at once. The sergeant’s shrieking had brought his orks, and Mogarth had taken up his big iron cleaver and stood over the gobbos while they did their bloody work.

Of the score ork soldiers he faced down, four had tried to come through him to the aid of their superior. One he cut from the top of his head to the middle of his neck. The second he sheared off below the knees. The third he swept both eyes from, and the fourth died in a tug of war over his own innards with one of the ravenous camp wolves.

After that day the word spread through the orks that the muttwhelp called Mogarth and his goblins were not to be touched.

As a reminder, he stuck the sergeant’s gaping head on a pole outside their mule hide tents.

The gobbos had swatted the flies away every morning and picked the meat from the face by increments to chew on the march. It was just a grinning black skull now. Mogarth had carved designs into the tusks in his off time, and he wore them from a necklace, along with the claws of a werebear champion he had slain at the Battle of Kantrivone Grove.

The Black Army was relentless. They had scoured the eastern half of the continent in a bloody, four month campaign before returning west where Mogarth’s own journey had begun, here at the edge of the Valley of The Golden Lap.

Though he hated to admit it, Redshat was right. It was like coming home.

Except now, it was just the two of them…

http://www.amazon.com/Blackguards-Tales-Assassins-Mercenaries-Rogues-ebook/dp/B00WQJOCX4/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1430120131&sr=1-1&keywords=blackguards

Extra Life! You know….for kids!

IMAG0402_ZOE006_SHOT

M’boys. Ready for action.

I’ve never been particularly athletically inclined. I did a little bit of basketball in middle school (I was terrible), the usual PE stuff in high school, and for a very brief period in college, some jogging and biking.

In high school though, I did discover and gravitate towards a certain group activity that in the 80’s was sort of a subcaste in terms of popularity strata, so far off the accepted social map as to be nearly clandestine (we gamed with a guy on the football team who the first day made me swear never to tell anybody he played -a secret I have upheld to his grave), and that was roleplaying games. First Dungeons and Dragons, the old gateway drug, then Cyberpunk, Rifts, Shadowrun, and Vampire: The Masquerade.

In college I ‘graduated’ from playing games to running them. I ran a West End Star Wars game for about two years, and I truly believe that this past time was instrumental in my development as a writer.

Thak fails his Wisdom save.

Thak fails his Wisdom save.

There’s something about tabletop roleplaying that develops the storytelling ‘muscle.’ It’s not just a buncha guys and gals huddling over a table snickering about elves. I really believe it’s a re-enactment of the primal form of human entertainment; sitting around in a group, telling stories to each other. Now we’ve got lightbulbs instead of a fire, and we chow on cylinders of Pringles and Diet Coke (though in my heyday it was Captain Morgan’s rum) instead of smilodon meat and fermented fruit juice (well, in some circles, that probably hasn’t changed much).

What part of "interactive gaming" is not a lie?

What part of “interactive gaming” is not a lie?

Roleplaying games sharpen the mind, quicken the pulse, and they’re a riot. Best of all, a tabletop game can’t be done alone, which dodges a troubling trend in entertainment geared towards youth. I love video games. As a multiple-kid-parent with a full time job and a burgeoning writing career, plug and play has been a godsend in terms of my own personal relaxation. I even worked in the video games industry for a little while. However, despite the interactive gaming tagline, you’re basically just staring at a screen for hours on end. The anonymity allows a lot of unsupervised, underage kids to spew a lot of horrendous garbage they would never dare say to a person whose eyes they could look into, and conversely, rather than teaching a kid to deal with somebody they might encounter in life who doesn’t have any social skills for whatever reason, you can just mute the little a-holes. Again, kind of foments universal disconnect rather than advancing the whole brotherhood of man concept.

IMAG0130But then at the beginning of this year, a friend of mine coaxed me back into rpging (D&D specifically) at the Local Gaming Store, and it’s been a revelation. Much more satisfying than vegging out to GTA (though I still do that too when I have the time).

Anyway, then Extra Life came along. As I mentioned, I have never been athletically inclined. I don’t run unless I’m being pursued or chasing down one of my toddlers, so I’ve watched the charity marathons some of my friends participate in a bit wistfully. I’d like to do something like that, I’m sure they’re having fun doing it, but it’s just not in my wheelhouse.

But this is.

Here’s the nitty gritty, straight from the mouth of the Extra Life bot –

“My local Children’s Miracle Network Hospital treats thousands of children each year, regardless of their family’s ability to pay. These kids are facing scary stuff like cancer, cystic fibrosis, and injuries from accidents to name just a few.

On October 25, 2014, I’ll be participating in this huge worldwide celebration of the social impact of gamers of all kinds from video games to board games and tabletop RPG’s! It’s my sincere hope that you’ll find it in your heart to support my efforts with a monthly pledge or one-time gift that will go directly to my hospital.

Your donation is tax-deductible and ALL PROCEEDS go to help kids.

I need your help to reach my goal.  Please make a safe, easy donation online today.  Click the “Support This Participant” button on this page to get started.  Thank you so much for supporting my efforts!”

My friend and I will be participating in a 24-hour marathon session of the new fifth editions of Dungeons and Dragons this October the 24th at a local gaming store, JJ’s Gaming Lounge in Chatsworth. It’s a mad little endeavor that I hope will raise awareness of the heinous problems the less economically fortunate and infirm children of our country face daily when it comes to finding the affordable healthcare many people with more stable lives take for granted.

I’m blessed that my own kids are healthy and that the safety net of a medical plan is there for them if they need it. I want to show that gratitude now by giving back in a small way. My chosen charity is the Children’s Hospital of Los Angeles, altruistic folks who can always use a helping hand helping others. I believe the D&D team for Extra Life has already pledged something over one million dollars total, so it’s not just a lark.

Please, if you have the means and are so inclined, catch the link below for a similar version of what I just posted here and the more-important donation button.

-Hasta pronto.

http://www.extra-life.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=donorDrive.participant&participantID=113334

Published in: on October 7, 2014 at 8:29 am  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , ,