#mormon steampunk

And a Bonus Sunday doodle, just for tumblr (because I like you guys)

Steampunk Temple

I’m thinking of making this part of a project. Like, a collection of sketches and letters set in a steampunk alternate history world where some guy is traveling through Deseret, drawing cool stuff he sees and trying to convince his friend back home that he’s not going to get murdered by the Mormons. This would accompany a letter where the talks about how the Mormons built a walking temple to reach far flung communities.

A day late because, while I did doodle this on Sunday, it got cold here recently so I’m in hibernation mode now. Minimum energy.

Anyways, this is a continuation (beginning?) of another project I started here about a steampunk alternate history. Here’s the doodle and accompanying letter:

My Dear Friend Victor,

I received your letter at the hotel in Santa Fe. I am writing a response as I await the arrival of my train. As you must have already supposed my answer is thus, I will not reconsider this journey. Do not suppose that your failure to turn me from this path is any reflection on a lack of warm feeling between us. You are and always have been a dear friend and I consider your company one of my greatest treasures. I also beg you, do not think that you and others have been derelict in informing me of the dangers of this trip. But I do ask that you see this from my perspective.

When I first received that letter from the University of Deseret I confess I thought it a hoax, for why would the Mormons, those hermits of the Rockies, seek to invite me, a second rate entomologist and amateur toy maker to their secluded kingdom? But the request proved genuine and granted me a singular opportunity. To penetrate the very heart of the Mormon califatte![sic] Such an opportunity may never come again! I cannot guess why they are interested in my little flutter toys, but can I really pass this opportunity simply because I cannot devine what goes on in the strange mind of a mormon? How few men have gone to that strange land? I know my mind and it is made up. To Salt Lake I go.

To the concerns you put forth in your latest letter I shall say the following and no more:

The Mormons are mezmerists[sic] who will ensorcel me into converting: First, Mezmerizm [sic] is carnaval hoaxerism and you know it. Second, if their object is my conversion they have taken an illogically obtuse path to it.

I may be robbed by Danite Bandits while on the Deseret roads: One could be robbed by bandits on any road in the Union. I will deter this with the usual measures one would use against the Confederate Bandits we are used to. I will carry little of value, just my sketch journal, writing materials, three of my Flutterbugs with their blueprints, a few gold coins to exchange for local currency, and a small Smith & Wesson.

The Mormons are always seeking new wives to add to their harems: Victor we have been friends since we were both lads, I am flattered you fear for me in this way, but we can both admit that I would make quite a homely wife. Even the most lecherous of Mormon elders will certainly find a gentleman like myself lacking the requisite feminine charms.

I say once again, my mind is made up. I have taken every reasonable precaution. I will go to Salt Lake. Please, do not let my resolve in this spoil our friendship. I know you are only concerned for my safety, thus I shall endeavor to write to you at every opportunity. The Pony Express has recently opened routes in Deseret and I have it on good authority that Mormon Elders have decreed this good and that the mail carriers go unmolested. Whenever possible I will place my letters directly in the rider’s hand, to avoid possible tampering by Mormon hands.

Please give my love to your wife Isabel and your darling children, Victoria, Charles, and Martin. Tell the children that when next they see me I shall rain down on them all the sweets and toys I could smuggle away from the Mormons. Tell Isabel she is beautiful and a saint to put up with your worrying.

Your friend,

Jacob K. Steinsworth

P.S. Train is delayed. Have some sketches. The Grand Clock at the Santa Fe Station and one of my Flutterbugs.

Pitched this idea last week and got some positive responses so here’s one part of my new project. You know where it’s a collection of sketches and letters set in a steampunk alternate history world where some guy is traveling through Deseret, drawing cool stuff he sees and trying to convince his friend back home that he’s not going to get murdered by the Mormons.

Letter transcript:

My Dear Friend Victor,

As my previous letter was sent from a rather dubious, yet reliable location, I anticipate that this letter shall outpace it and reach you first. As such, I shall briefly recount its contents.

First you must know that I am well and relatively unscathed. When I arrived in St George I believed all my rough traveling behind me and it would be airships all the way to Salt Lake. Hardly thirty minutes in the sky a band of Confederate Holdouts revealed themselves and took control of the ship, intending to sail it back to one of their secret enclaves in the South to aid in their misguided “war effort”. Fortunately they were foiled by a Deseret Federal Marshal (Lt. Whitterby of the Danite division) who subdued the rebels and orchestrated an emergency landing in the town of Kanab, a good distance east of St George. As I said, the exact details are in my other letter which I sent from the Kenab post office. The postmaster there seemed old as Methusala, leading to my doubt on the speediness of that letter’s delivery. This letter I shall send from the St George post office which is of a more modern fashion.

But I must tell you of the mechanical wonder I encountered in Kanab! After the ordeal the band of Johnny Rebs were locked securely in the Kanab town hall (the town is too small for a proper jailhouse). The other passengers and I were given a little rest and refreshment in the same building (the town is also too small for a hotel). I took this time to write my previous (or possibly forthcoming) letter and send it off. After a while we heard the sound of twin airships approaching. These were the Thunderbird and the Tiancum, which Lt. Whitterby called for. One to return us to St George and the other to take away the villains. He asked us to remain where we were, that we might witness the official arrest and then sign documents witnessing that the correct persons were taken into custody (I swear these Mormons are obsessed with everything being witnessed!)

When the Deseret Marshals marched in they were accompanied by the most peculiar automatons. I was able to make sketches, which I have included. There were four of these contraptions, one for each of the Confederates. They each bore the stern face sculpted from copper or brass, I could not tell. I was told that they bore the face of that wiley old General O.P. Rockwell, who gave our General Sherman and all those Union boys such a rough time in the siege of Echo Canyon.

Each Rockwell was directed by its operator to stand directly behind the hijackers and hold the criminals' hands behind their backs, like a pair of handcuffs. Just as I was wondering why entire automatons were called for what a mere pair of handcuffs could do, one of the scoundrels broke free and made a break for it, rushing as though he would leap out of the window to freedom! But then the Rockwell machine did a strange thing. One of its hands dropped, as if it was on a hinge and a small device extended from the open wrist. With a pop, it shot a tiny harpoon attached with a thin wire at the man. I wondered at this, as the harpoon and wire were both far too small to catch a fish, let alone a desperate criminal. But when the harpoon struck him there came a sound like a deep angry buzzing and the man became stiff as a board and toppled over as if dead!

The foiled escapee was looked over and determined to still be alive, (though with quite a lot less fight in him) and was bound in the same manner as the rest. In asking Lt Whitterby what had just transpired, he told me that the machines “Rockwell Automatons” where based on a design currently being used in both London and Chicago ment to assist local law enforcement in apprehending and holding dangerous criminals. When I brought up how easily the man had been felled, the Lieutenant told me that that particular innovation was of pure Deseret origin. In the Chicago models a simple gun is concealed in the wrist, and the London model is given a club. Both were determined to be far too brutal for the liking of the Deseret Marshals, so an alternative device was created. This deceive, I was told, delivers a small electrical charge to the target, not powerful enough to kill, but just enough to temporarily confuse the nervous system and render the target harmless.

But look! I have been writing and sketching aboard the Thunderbird so long that we have been returned to St George so that I might continue my journey to Salt Lake! I must finish this letter and mail it while I can. As always I shall write to you whenever I am able.

Your friend,

Jacob K. Steinsworth

MORMON STEAMPUNK PLOT IDEAS

Then I stare at the class expectantly.

On some steampunk B.S. so here’s a member of the Nauvoo Legion. And also a “colorized” version.

In other words are they like queerstake where a little personal revelation is fine and love one another comes first or are they more conservative/mainstream as far as Mormon culture goes

I like stuff that reflects my experiences being culturally mormon and I freakin LOVE steampunk but I’d also rather not trigger the Religious Issues y’know?

Full disclosure, I haven't read them all. Also, with short stories I tend to forget details pretty quickly. But I can tell you this: the authors involved are not particularly shy about the oddities of Mormonism.

D.J. Butler, for example, wrote a book called "The Cunning Man" about a Mormon farmer who practices magic.

In the stories I read, I don't recall anything particularly "Rah, Rah, Orthodoxy!" About them. If anything, the heroes are the unusual ones, the ones who ask questions and struggle with things, and the villains are the staunch zealots, unwilling to consider new ideas.

The characters themselves also run the spectrum of Mormonism. One story has two very faithful members fighting for control over Brigham Young's mechanical taxidermied body, while another has a jack-mormon who gets turned into a giant airship.

I can't recall any blatantly queer themes in what I've read, but I also didn't notice anything that would be queerphobic. I think the general nature of this genre attracts a less conservative crowd of authors.