#bdbc

A huge thank you to all who came out to the recent Planetaria Fundraiser held by BDBC.

The Ignition Crew and I had a blast, and it was so exciting getting to see so many fun people, and out-of-this-world outfits.

If you missed the show, not to worry. Well be performing again on Feb 10th, in Bothell, for the Prom Fundraiser.

So if you're looking for something hot to warm you up come check us out. 😜

Photos with: Elizabeth Klein & Ignition Crew

WELCOME TO BDBC ✧

Master Post ★

BDBC is an indie animation series on youtube that stars the main character batdog / rein

BDBC stands for Batdog Beyond Code

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In the vast world of video games, join Batdog, a legendary protagonist, as they face an unexpected challenges as jealous game creators attempt to steal her code. Discovering her own sentience, Batdog unites with other self-aware characters, forming an alliance to prevent humanity from erasing their virtual worlds. Throughout their journey, they confront virtual enemies, solve puzzles, and expose the sinister plot of the game creators. Batdog's legacy becomes a symbol of imagination, creativity, and the limitless potential within the gaming realm.

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Quick info ‼️

At this very moment we are still working on the pilot. It's not out yet and we don't know when it will be done

Characters are still in beta! You will see them change over time

Aos seis anos, praticava mais categorias de luta do que poderia pronunciar. Aos sete, realizava exercícios de lógica que seriam avançados demais para um membro da sociedade comum. Aos oito, aprendia a projetar e programar como se novas tecnologias fossem um simples brinquedo (ainda que, nesta etapa, seu irmão finalmente se encontrasse, mostrando-se muito melhor). Aos nove, foi-lhe ensinado a arte da mentira e a necessidade da mesma no “mundo real”, título pelo qual conhecia tudo que era exterior ao já conhecido, ou ainda, aquilo para o qual estavam se preparando (e nesta, a irmã sobressaiu-se, como se já pudesse lecionar). Aos dez, começou a atirar, e o fez com maestria. E durante todo o processo, valores e disciplinas lhe eram ensinados como regras; um manual de instruções que guiava à perfeição.

Nos primeiros anos de sua infância, Arthan mostrou-se uma criança quieta e introvertida. Enquanto B e C extravasavam tristeza ou raiva por não terem um verdadeiro lar ou família, A preferia não aprender o sentido de tais palavras. Ao invés disso, reprimiu-se.

Inconscientemente, optou por não se dar ao previlégio de sentimentos negativos e, pouco a pouco, sua própria mente apagou as memórias de momentos em que sentia-se assim, substituindo-as por uma grande inteligência, capaz de absorver tudo que lhe era ensinado com a mesma avidez com a qual uma criança curiosa torna-se criativa. No pequeno Arthan, que desenvolvia-se rapidamente, não havia a intensidade de descobrir e fazer por si só, mas a facilidade de um robô que pode ser programado. Eis um fato sobre transtornos antissociais: nem sempre nascem; podem ser criados. E para evitar sofrimentos, sua mente permitiu-se criar-se assim. E justamente por seu potencial em ser moldado é que tornou-se peça chave para o Experimento. Pois seria de sua responsabilidade trazer de volta os outros, caso desistissem da futura missão. Pois fora treinado, além de todo o resto citado até então para, também, liderar.

Ainda que incapaz de sentir com a naturalidade de um indivíduo qualquer, Arthan teve de entender a tal da empatia. Enquanto crescia, tornou-se capaz de decorar todos os hormônios que causam determinada emoção e qual o efeito que esta mesma traz para o corpo alheio; como extra, quis compreender também, como lidar com as pessoas sob o efeito de uma. Gradualmente, entendeu também que, se quisesse honrar a própria nação, deveria aprender a senti-los; ou, ao menos, simula-los.

Durante todo o processo de preparação, Arthan foi acompanhado por uma psicológica que, por meio de soros e fios, era preparada para conhecer cada espaço de sua mente. Assim, para ela, não sentia a necessidade de fingir. E, com ela, obteve o ensinamento que mais o guiou nos anos seguintes de sua vida: começando pela própria equipe, deveria construir a ideia de cuidado e proteção. Se queria ser um bom líder e, enfim, alcançar o único objetivo que fora motivado a ter, deveria pensar não só em si (reforça-se: apenas pensar).

[...]

O rapaz, agora aos onze, passava por uma aula sobre a técnica necessária para um específico tipo de revólver, tendo um desses em cada uma das pequenas mãos. C fora liberado no dia, pois um projeto qualquer de programação lhe soava melhor. B, porém, parada ao seu lado, parecia tremer ao errar mais um tiro seguido (já no certeiro, Art parara de contar). Ainda que jamais houvessem sido mal tratados durante os treinamentos na base quase militar onde viviam desde onde podiam se lembrar, isto não significava que o cuidado para com os três não fosse duro e, no mínimo, frio.

Agora, um homem cuja altura passava a das duas crianças, se somadas juntas, gritava acima dos dois se tudo o que havia lhes passado até então não valera de nada. Ainda que o comentário não se dirigisse a si, Art percebia um certo desconforto na própria mente, ao ver apenas pelo canto do olho que uma mecha vermelha cobria um dos olhos de B (em parte, porque isso desmontava o padrão dos fios ligeiramente presos que estavam em sua cabeça antes que o treino começasse. A preferia padrões.); principalmente, afetava-lhe ainda mais saber que era proposital. Ela sempre deixava que isso acontecesse ao disfarçar as lágrimas que insistiam em surgir.

Para ter a certeza que o holograma que servia de alvo a sua frente realmente estava morto, o loiro disparou mais uma vez. As informações sobre onde haveria acertado se fosse um ser humano real surgiram flutuando ao lado da figura e após lê-las, permitiu-se apenas apreciar a linha tênue de acertos que formara desde o crânio até um ponto logo abaixo do coração, em perfeita formação.

A admiração durou pouco, quando outro grito da voz grave de seu professor ecoou pelo espaço todo. Perguntava à menina o porquê de não conseguir simplesmente acertar. E Arthan respirou fundo, simplesmente esperando a reação que, como já calculara, viria a seguir.

@blairld

A seductive and evocative epic on an intimate scale, that tells the extraordinary story of a geisha girl. Summoning up more than twenty years of Japan's most dramatic history, it uncovers a hidden world of eroticism and enchantment, exploitation and degradation. From a small fishing village in 1929, the tale moves to the glamorous and decadent heart of Kyoto in the 1930s, where a young peasant girl is sold as servant and apprentice to a renowned geisha house. She tells her story many years later from the Waldorf Astoria in New York; it exquisitely evokes another culture, a different time and the details of an extraordinary way of life. It conjures up the perfection and the ugliness of life behind rice-paper screens, where young girls learn the arts of geisha - dancing and singing, how to wind the kimono, how to walk and pour tea, and how to beguile the most powerful men.

In early December the BDBC gathered for our (vaguely) Christmas themed meeting to discuss Arthur Golden's Memoirs of a Geisha. First things first: the cover. We had a variety of options to discuss, none of which were particularly groundbreaking. A couple of things worth mentioning:

Matthew's copy featured some vibrant red gilding. Perhaps an obvious, even stereotypical colour option for a book about Japanese Geisha. However as we learnt, the colour red is steeped in meaning and difficult to separate from Geisha culture.

She wore the magnificent makeup of a geisha. Her lips were flowering red on a stark white face.

When my hair was evenly waxed, the hairdresser swept the forelock back and brought the rest up into a large knot like a pincushion on the top of the head. When viewed from the back, this pincushion has a split in it, as if it's cut in two, which gives the hairstyle its name of 'split peach.' … The knot if formed by wrapping the hair around a piece of fabric … where the knot is split, the fabric is left visible; it might be any design or colour, but in the case of an apprentice geisha—after a certain point in her life, at least—it's always red silk. One night a man said to me: "Most of these innocent little girls have no idea how provocative the 'split peach' hairstyle really is! Imagine you are walking along behind a young geisha … and then you see on her head this split-peach shape, with a big splash of red inside the cleft…"

A red 'collar' is also worn by a junior maiko geisha, whereas the more experienced geisha wear white collars to indicate their seniority. In this sense, the colour red is arguably perceived as a symbol of innocence and inferiority, rather than common westerly connotations of passion and anger.

The Vintage Books (Random House) cover also features the colour red – a provocative crop of a traditional geisha lip. Given the subject we agreed the overall design was a 'safe' approach and the pseudo shodō (Japanese calligraphy) type ‘disappointing’ for the subject. Much of our discussion was centred around the issue that the book was written by an American about a culture he had never personally experienced, and in a way many of the covers reflected this clichéd western depiction of eastern culture. Despite the novel reaching the bestseller lists in the UK and America it famously was not received well in Japan, the country in which it is set. Despite our best efforts we have been unable to find an example of the Japanese translation for design comparison. However an excerpt from an article written by Jennifer Hanawald (found here) suggests the Japanese cover has been far more sensitively thought out:

“Sayuri” — as the novel is called in Japan — is in all the posh bookshops in central Tokyo, from Aoyama Book Center to Shibuya’s Book 1st, where browsers can find it wedged between the likes of Banana Yoshimoto’s latest novel and other recent translations, such as Melissa Bank’s “The Girls’ Guide to Hunting and Fishing.” In proper Japanese style, the book has been elegantly packaged with a traditional textile pattern cover (making it look serious and not sleazy) and an extra half-sleeve informing readers that it has been a bestseller in the United States and will be made into a movie by Steven Spielberg.

If anyone has a copy we would love to see it!

So, what did we actually think of the book? As before we were split in our opinions, and experienced the book in different ways. Interestingly none of us really ‘loved’ the book or the characters. Those who didn’t enjoy it mainly found fault with the ‘voice’ of the book, which raised an interesting discussion on whether it was possible to tell a woman’s story as a man and visa-versa.

Essentially it was a man’s perspective on a woman’s world.

We agreed that Chiyo/Sayuri’s voice felt ‘off’ or disconnected at points, and the reader often felt like a distant spectator rather than being fully involved in a world that is usually so off-limits. Perhaps this was intentional of Golden, to convey the suppression of geisha (and women of that period in general), but some found it frustrating to read:

I didn’t like it because I constantly felt that she was acting a part – I couldn’t relate to her.

We agreed it was written for a western audience, it was a story, and to be taken as such. A historically and culturally ‘accurate’ account, written from a Japanese perspective would have been far more reserved and respectful, lacking the intimate details and ‘honesty’ that a narrative provides:

I wouldn’t have got past the first page if it was written for the Japanese.

It was frustrating to not read an actual non-reserved account.

There was no other person who would write it so honestly – it was very vivid. I could picture every scene.

Prior to reading Memoirs of a Geisha many of us had thought of geisha as a type of prostitute. Did our opinion change?

What do men look for in a geisha that they don’t have/get in their ordinary lives?

Although we agreed sex was one of the services geisha offered, it wasn’t the ‘main’ attraction. The word geisha is made on two parts, directly translated to art and person, so artist or artisan would be our closest English translation:

In a way they were entertainers. They were trained in music and dancing and performing seemed to be a huge part of being a geisha.

Geisha were a status symbol. Anyone can visit a prostitute. You had to be of a certain class, part of a certain society to even be invited to the tea houses and be in the company of geisha. It was exclusive.

Although the geisha were paid, that didn’t seem to be why they did it. They had no other choice, and their ultimate aim was a dana – someone to provide both financial and emotional security.

She had very little choice. She had to understand the rules of the game and play it well in order to survive.

We discussed the idea of success and whether Sayuri ultimately achieved this:

I wanted a darker ending. She shouldn’t have ended up with the chairman.

To end up with the chairman felt like a romanticised ending. It would have been far more realistic for her to end up (unhappy) with Nobu.

She consciously manipulated Nobu – she was a product of her life.

I wanted her to succeed, to be with the chairman. It was the best possible outcome for what actually would have been a fairly unfulfilling life. I felt she deserved that.

It was impossible to agree on one underlying theme or symbol to sum up the book. Here are some of our offerings…

Financial incentive, security

  Appearance is everything, geisha are an act, playing a part

  Sayuri’s beauty ultimately ‘saves’ her. It makes people notice her and then listen.

  Her roots, upbringing, life she left behind.