Patrick Sean Tomlinson / @stealthygeek / "Torque Wheeler" / @RealAutomanic / Kempesh / Padawan v2.5 - "Conservative" sci-fi author with TDS, armed "drunk with anger management issues" and terminated parental rights, actual tough guy, obese, paid Quasi, paid thousands to be repeatedly unbanned from Twitter

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I forgot to mention his protagonist called "Firstname Lastname". I highly suspect this is laziness disguised as cleverness/quirkiness.
There is potential in it if you come up with interesting lore (like Nordom who adopted reversed name of his species as his individual name after being disconnected from the Modron hivemind and therefore being made opposite of what he used to be). I just doubt Pat has the wits and creativity to be able to come up with a good story behind a meaningful name.
 
There is potential in it if you come up with interesting lore (like Nordom who adopted reversed name of his species as his individual name after being disconnected from the Modron hivemind and therefore being made opposite of what he used to be). I just doubt Pat has the wits and creativity to be able to come up with a good story behind a meaningful name.
Did Nilbogs come before him? That's a similar idea to them.
 
Anything on his 2019 con? I mostly see stuff about the 2018 one.
He attended multiple "cons" every year for many years. He lost his wife at a model toy con in 2011 and he did all sorts of gay shit at other cons. It's mostly just pics and video of him hanging out at an author booth being a faggot. What exactly were you looking for?
 
Pat actually posted about six months ago how he was upset that none of the major news networks hired him as a pundit for all the important tweeting that he did about Drumph. He has a love/hate relationship with CNN and the hateful side certainly comes out here.
tbh he seems about the quality of "pundit" I would expect from news networks about now
 
He attended multiple "cons" every year for many years. He lost his wife at a model toy con in 2011 and he did all sorts of gay shit at other cons. It's mostly just pics and video of him hanging out at an author booth being a faggot. What exactly were you looking for?
I wondering if he was an as much of an asshole at WonderCon 2019 as he was at 2018. I know when he went to GenCon no one gave a shit about him.
 
Do you know if 2019 was the year where that pic of him on some panel looking red faced and even more retarded than usual while staring at his phone came from? People used to joke that he was probably looking at the r/opieandanthony sub at that very moment LOL
Here you go.

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Welcome to part three of my review of Fat's book, Starship Repo. Please close the thread and go read about someone else. Skip this post. Your life will be better for it.

(Previous chapters are reviewed here and here.)

I've now made it through chapters 6 and 7, and I have reason to hope that the book has gotten as bad as it's going to get. Why? Because I just don't see how it could possibly get any worse...

We'll start off with something light:
We took a break in the last section from Fat's incessant pop cultural references, but they came back with a vengeance in these chapters. Fat is so lacking in imagination that he cannot comprehend that, over the next 400 years, humans are going to come up with new things to focus their culture on. Fat's world is stuck in the piss-colored, brittle amber of early 21st century American media.

"Buckle in," Hashin said. "Company health insurance doesn't cover injuries sustained from stupidity."

"Doesn't the ship have inertial dampers or something?"

"Stop watching Star Trek," Jrill said. "We have artificial gravity but it has a 0.037 refresh rate. That's more than enough time to splatter you against the view screen..."
What's so infuriating about this reference isn't just the idea that Star Trek is still a thing in 2500 - it's that a space-faring people with real space technology are getting their ideas about space from Star Trek instead of, you know, their own lives. And worse off - the Star Trek of a space future is using pretend, made-up technology instead of referencing real world tech in the first place. This passage hurt.

"Yippee ki-yay, motherfu-"

"Language, young lady," Hashin said from his own seat as he applied some sort of medicated patch to his upper arm.

"But how did you even know..."

"We've all seen Die Hard. We have Christmas out here, too, you know. It's mostly a retail driven holiday, but then, what holiday isn't?"

"Assembly space celebrates Jesus Christ's birth?" First asked incredulously.

"Who?"

"Oh, thank God," First said.
I remind my dear readers that the number of humans who have made it this far into the universe number in the single digits. However, the alien cultures in Fat's world are so weak and uninteresting that they all immediately adopted American pop culture. They've got our movies. They've got our holidays. They've got our problems about losing the real meaning behind holidays (the tragedy of which Fat then immediately undermines by being grateful that Christmas in his book has lost its meaning entirely.) The whole purpose of alien cultures in fiction is to take us somewhere new. Fat, however, can't leave his own city. It's sad.

First had never seen a party like it in her life. The closest she'd come had been in Florida at Universal Studios when six contractually obligated "performers" in full costume had serenaded her at a Hogwarts main hall table for her twelfth birthday, while five hundred other tourists looked on and applauded in halfhearted disinterest.

Here, not only do we have a reference to a theme park that's stayed in operation for four hundred years, running the same programming the entire time, but we've also got Fat messing up the continuity of his book. Back in chapter 2, Fat wrote, "Her parents had taken a vacation to Earth once when she was ten. They'd scrimped and saved almost since the moment she'd been born. They'd told her it might be the only time she'd ever be off world, and they wanted her to see their original home." So she'd been to Earth once, Fat specifies that they left the planet, and then he goes on and writes that she was at Universal Studios Florida two years later. He could have done something slightly more clever by saying it was Universal Studios Orion or some other off-world branch of the company, but nope. He just doesn't care enough about continuity or novelty to do that much work.

Then someone requested that damn song again, "Pho Queue," by the Wolverines. The crowd roared in approval.

"Who are these guys," First asked aloud, mostly to herself, but she was overheard by... a squid carrot?

"The Wolverines! They're your kin. Surely you've heard of them?"

"I heard them over the radio in a car two days ago. That's it."

"Impossible!" the squid carrot proclaimed.

"There are twenty billion humans. No, I don't know all of them personally, if these guys are even really human. What kind of music is this even?"

"They're a hair band. It's blowing up. They're out on tour of this arm of the galaxy right now. Not even I can score tickets, not for fin or tentacle. Me! Can you believe it?" the unknown alien said, expecting First would understand the gravity of the sentiment without further explanation.

"No, I really can't," First said. "You know that music was popular, like, four hundred years ago, right?"

"Light speed delay. We only just got MTV a few cycles ago."

First rubbed a temple. "That explains so much."
Why did I type all that up? I could have clipped the line about the Wolverines and made the point that Fat makes too many pop culture references, but I think you, my dear readers, deserve to know just how much he belabors the point. This is the second time he's made the Wolverines Pho Queue joke, and here he spends nearly a page justifying his lack of world-building joke, and it's just such a slog to get through. That wasn't funny. There was no important information relayed in that conversation. It was total dead weight, and he spent nearly a page on it.

"Describe this book's 'cover.' Length, beam, layout, color, hull registry numbers."

First smiled. Her living, indeed her very survival was dependent on her powers of observation. She noticed everything out of reflex, the way other people breathed.
This is the first time we're hearing about this. We've seen how First survives; stealing cars and running the shell game. Neither of those required super-natural strength powers of observation. In fact, there was hardly a detail provided in any of the scenes depicting her work that showed she noticed anything. Fat just made that up.

And speaking of things First doesn't notice - there's no rhyme or reason to anything she knows about outer space. Our savvy, street-wise savant doesn't know what two of the six alien species who make up the Assembly government thing are, doesn't know how ships handle G-forces, totally missed hearing about the episode where some gas miners accidentally sucked up an electricity-controlling alien into their ship which then nearly took over the galaxy for a few centuries - ending when they were given a seat on the Assembly council just to get them to stop stealing every starship they came across, but she will know some random detail when Fat thinks he can make a joke out of it. He spent exactly zero number of seconds contemplating what the character he created should have known about the world around her. It makes her look despicably ignorant.

Not only is every character written with the exact same personality, not only is Fat's alien culture a direct rip-off of the world in which Fat lives, but even his space-ship names all sound like they were created by the exact same person. He's got the "Space for Rant," the "Goes Where I'm Towed," and the "Pay for Prey," all theoretically owned by people with vastly different personalities and life experiences - even different species. But they all sound like they were named by Fat. Because he can't write.

So I've already told you how hacking works in Fat's world; you buy the hacking program off the interwebz and leave a good review. What if I told you that that technique works, not just for individual daily-driver automobiles, but for active alien warships?

First, always the rebel, hid her hacker deck under her leg until the transport pulled back from the dock, then pulled it out and started researching whatever weaknesses and work-arounds to Turemok military software the /backnet/ had to offer. Which, as was so often the case, was extensive.
Not only are there hacks available for an alien battleship on the internet, but Fat makes it sound like there are significantly more than there were for the fancy sportscar (which had only sixteen). The ramifications of having hacks available on the public market for warships is just mind-bendingly world-breaking. Militaries would be all over that - shutting them down or using them against rival militaries. Can you imagine being able to hop onto Reddit and download the hacks to a nuclear sub? This is that level of stupid.

And, because Fat is convinced that his idea is brilliant, the hacks all work flawlessly when downloaded and implemented.

So if you listen to Brandon Sanderson (a legitimate author) talk about the art of writing, he will say that the author's job is to make promises, and keep them. When you introduce a tone, an idea, a character motivation, what-have-you, you are promising to your reader that the thing that's been introduced will have some sort of payoff, if they only trust you enough to keep reading. Luke looks off into the double-sunset and dreams of going to space to challenge the empire; that's a promise that gets kept. And it's important for authors to make sure that the promises they make to their readers pay off, because otherwise the reader will stop investing in the story.

So, what does Fat do? Fat sets up a scenario where there's a repo job. There's going to be the problem of intercepting the ship before it reaches the station. There's going to be the problem of taking it over once they get to it. And then there's going to be the problem that the main protagonist has a personal connection to - the problem of dealing with the local criminal syndicate once they get the ship back to Junktion.

How does Fat pay off those promises?

The first one is actually one of the better parts of the book (trust me, that is not saying much). The crew tracks down the target, sets up their ploy, and manages to trick their way onto the ship. The conversation where it happens is even mildly amusing. So now we're set up for the two more important promises, and Fat face-plants hard, here.

We don't even get to see the action for the second and third promises first-hand. They're relayed to us by a character who's reviewing the footage after everything is said and done. Taking over the ship takes two paragraphs: a total of four sentences. The third and most important promise (since it ties in with the protagonist's past) gets a one-sentence paragraph.
It was a masterful performance, matched only by the sight of Soolie's goons swarming up the gangway expecting to take legal possession of the ship, just to come face-to-face with Jrill's glot-eating grin standing by the hatch.
Not only is the sentence a run-on abomination, but it is totally lacking in any suspense, drama or pay-off. This was the first job with the new crew, our character's introduction to the content that will fill the rest of the book. I remind you, that Fat devoted four pages to talking about MacDonalds back in chapter one. Four pages to detailing the menu, talking about ingredients, and ordering food. But paying off the first big job gets one. stupid. sentence.

There's so much to write about here. There's the fact that character emotions come from nowhere, and vanish just as quickly. There's the fact that none of his characters are likeable. The main characters are constantly sniping at each other with Fat's unlikeable snark, and then having a huge, drug-fueled rave. There's the fact that the mechanic has claws instead of hands (because you can totally use tools without fingers). I'm really leaving so much out of these reviews because pointing out every little thing Fat does poorly would just take too damn long.

But God damn it, I read this fucking passage, and you will too.*

* @Meat Target - this is spoilered, so if you open that spoiler and read what is beyond, don't blame me.

What have we learned about Fat and sex up till now? We were introduced to his dysfunction back in chapter one with his public autoerotic cannibalism. We had First's very masculine seduction of the car she was stealing. We had this little comment that I didn't bother to share with you:
"I'm telling you right now, if this is some sort of xeno-fetish sex thing, I'd sooner march down to the security station and turn myself in."

Is that a common proposition?"

"Common enough when you're the only one of something in a place like this," First said as she came around to face her host. "Some weirdos like to check off species like they're... playing... bingo..."
But none of that could prepare anyone for what Fat had in store for us all...

"I have to stay here and keep an eye on the floor. Could you go find the boss for me? He's supposed to give a little speech before introducing the candidate."

"Sure. Where'd you see him last?"

"Hallway by his bedroom."

First nodded and headed for the sleeping quarters, glad to leave the noise and push of the crowd behind for a few minutes. Loritt's bedroom was the farthest down the hall and to the right, although First wasn't sure what he needed a bedroom for, as it wasn't clear his race slept in the first place. First rapped her knuckles on the rich, deep-lavender grain of the door.

"Loritt?" she asked. When no answer came, she knocked harder and turned the old-fashioned knob in the middle of the door. It wasn't locked, so she pushed it open. "Loritt, Hashin is looking for-"

The shock at what she saw scattered around the bed and floor froze the air in First's lungs. Loritt's body had been dismembered-no, ripped apart, and tossed around the room like seventy kilos of shredded pork. Some parts of him still twitched, the violence was so fresh.

The instant First's diaphragm thawed from the initial trauma, she screamed like a horror movie queen.

Jrill came charging down the hallway like an avenging vulture, Hashin close behind her.

What's wrong, girl?" Jrill demanded of her.

"He's dead!" First said through heaving sobs. "Someone murdered Loritt!"

Jrill pushed past her and threw the door open, only to stop dead, a quizzical look on her face. Then she motioned Hashin to come and look.

Hashin surveyed the scene from the door before closing it again. "Ah. I see."

"You handle this, Hashin," Jrill said. "I have to return to my post." Without another word, Jrill swept back down the hallway in the direction of the party.

"Where the hell is she going?" First demanded.

"First," Hashin beckoned her to follow a short way down the hall. "What do you know about Nelihexu?"

"I don't know." First fought against hyperventilating just to talk. "They look like somebody skinned a big cat and taught it to walk upright. I just know Loritt was nice to me and now he's dead."

Hashin nodded. "Okay, I see the problem. Nelihexu are communal organisms. Just like my body and yours have specialized tissue that make up our organs, they have specialized individual multicellular species that make up their bodies. All these animals live in a community. You know this particular community as Loritt Chessel."

"Yeah? So?"

"So," Hashin said, trying to be delicate, "when[sic] it's time for, ah, mating, these communities have to..." Hashin made a coming apart gesture with his hands.

"Oh," First said one second before the full implication of what he'd said hit here[sic]. "Ooh. Uuuuuugh! You mean I just saw Loritt and Kula having sex?!"

"That is exactly what I mean."

First stuck her fingers in her ears. "Lalalalala!"
I could write a thesis about how awful that scene was. From the fact that Lorritt was never nice to her, so that detail got invented just for the sake of the scene, to the fact that no one is responding to her emotional displays in a realistic way, to the fact that her emotions just vanish on a dime when it's time to reveal the punchline of the joke, to the fact that Lorritt vanishes in the hall by his bedroom in the middle of a rave and the automatic assumption somehow isn't that he's run off to have sex, to the just disgusting and degrading nature of what Fat does with sex....

But I'm not going to write a thesis. I'm just going to mention that once upon a time, I wrote a scene and showed it to a friend. She pointed out that the people in the scene were acting awfully young for grown-ups and I should revise it. We were both 12 years old when this happened. Fat was in his late thirties, and thought that having a street-wise, hardened seventeen year old stick her fingers in her ears and yell, "Lalalalala!" was a thing that he should do. And what makes it absolutely hilarious is that fifth phone call with Josiah, where he just started yelling, "Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah," so he wouldn't have to listen to Josiah speak. At least we can say, with that one line, that Fat is writing what he knows.

He knows how to act like a six year old.
 
He's also sperging fucking big-time today on CNN's Twitter feed because they went against his favored narrative and reported that studies are showing that a double dose of the Pfizer vax only covers you from Covid-19 for 2 months.
Fatrick was banned from Twitter when all the shitlib talking heads were tweeting about resisting the experimental rushed vaccine being fast-tracked under orders from ORANGE MUSSOLINI, right?
 
Did Nilbogs come before him? That's a similar idea to them.

Nilbogs date all the way back to the first Fiend Folio, long predating Nordom. The Brits of early Dungeons and Dragons had a strange fascination with 'backwards' monsters. They tried to make backward trolls a thing, there were some others that I don't happen to recall.
 
I have never heard of a single one of these nobodies.

The Fiend Folio was mostly compiled from fan submissions from White Dwarf magazine which is why it had so much utterly goofy shit.
Then again, GenCon told Luke Gygax to fuck off, so GenCon has lost respect from people.
 
I’d say that he gives Moviebob a run for his money, but him lisping “child” 80 times in a single phone call is way more cringe than anything Bob has said about his “superior future.”
I used to think they were cut from the same cloth too, but the more time I've spent in this thread I've realised Fatrick is an entirely different breed.

All Bob's 'superior footcha' shit is just cope to mask his glaring insecurities because deep down he knows what an abject failure of a human he is. You'll occasionally see the mask slip like when Lindsay Ellis blew him the fuck out and he started crying about how he has no friends.

Then you have Pat, who 100% believes everything he says about himself and others. The dude can't even cop to being fat --not morbidly obese, just fat-- when presented with photos of his objectively corpulent figure in profile. I've never seen anyone so firmly entrenched in denial as Pat. Not even troons, since they still require constant validation to keep their act up; Pat needs nobody but Pat to be sure Pat is the greatest guy who ever lived.

He's become my favourite cow for this reason, and I expect great things in his future. Mainly how he's going to cope when wife number 2 leaves him and the couch-surfing/homeless arc begins.
 
Nilbogs date all the way back to the first Fiend Folio, long predating Nordom. The Brits of early Dungeons and Dragons had a strange fascination with 'backwards' monsters. They tried to make backward trolls a thing, there were some others that I don't happen to recall.
That's what I thought, backwords named monsters were always a bitch to kill.
 
I've never seen anyone so firmly entrenched in denial as Pat.
Not even Russell Greer?
Pat needs nobody but Pat to be sure Pat is the greatest guy who ever lived.
Meh, having SFWA connections and paypigs can also convince you that you're hot shit.
He's become my favourite cow for this reason, and I expect great things in his future. Mainly how he's going to cope when wife number 2 leaves him and the couch-surfing/homeless arc begins.
I rochambeau between Greer, Bob, and Fatrick. But between those three, Fat has been the funniest to see get owned.
 
Not even Russell Greer?

Meh, having SFWA connections and paypigs can also convince you that you're hot shit.

I rochambeau between Greer, Bob, and Fatrick. But between those three, Fat has been the funniest to see get owned.
I love watching Greer get his shit shoved in too, but I think he is legitimately a bit crazy which always takes the shine off for me; it's way more fun watching people who should know better but still actively and repeatedly choose to ruin their lives over petty internet shit (see also: Ethan Ralph).

My top cows are Fatrick, Chantal and Jim Sterling, but with the latter two I'm mainly just curious who's going to kill themselves (accidentally or otherwise) first.
 
The Fiend Folio was mostly compiled from fan submissions from White Dwarf magazine which is why it had so much utterly goofy shit.

That's a large part of its' lasting charm. Even though a lot of the creatures were insane or badly done, they weren't corporately badly done or bewildering. Enthusiastic amateur shit is better than corporate professional shit.
 
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