ALVIS

I know my advice has no authority on or off the Internet, but please try not to be so obnoxious. Your arguments are very logical, but the sheer and blatant disrespect for others communicated by your caustic tone makes it difficult to take you seriously. Perhaps you could both stand to put post-it notes on your computer monitors reminding yourselves to observe common standards of decency and etiquette. I say this not as someone who supports the Green as a candidate, but rather as a proponent of polite and intelligent discussion. (Even on a BIONICLE forum.)

Even Greg himself thinks Ice should be removed from the poll.

I generally abstain from trying to explain BIONICLE to other people. They rarely express any interest in wanting to learn, so it would be rude to go ahead and talk about it. Fans who try to explain the story invariably end up sounding like abhorrent proselytizers trying to win converts, anyway.

This all comes down to different tastes, but the distinctions you outline between 2001 story and 2008 story are precisely what kept BIONICLE interesting to me. A story can be awfully mysterious, and that's a good aura to have, but if none of it ever gets explained, I'm not going to remember it fondly (if at all).

I couldn't let Halloween pass by without writing a seasonal short story to join in all the spookiness. This is the latest installment in an ongoing blog, "Sahmad's Tales", which I'm writing in-character as Sahmad on tumblr (are we allowed to link there?). Because of that, it references several events and encounters that Sahmad's experienced in that blog, in addition to his exploits in Sahmad's Tale. If none of this makes sense to you, you should go read the blog and check it out! I should mention that, this being Halloween, the following story is meant to be scary. I would say it's well-deserving of a PG-13 rating, so if that sounds #2spooky4u, you should probably do yourself a favor and skip it. Happy Halloween... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Even by night, the Great Jungle steams with warm, sweltering air, curling around the trees, hanging heavy on the branches and vines. Of course, the forest is by no means asleep. The forest never sleeps. Crickets chitter and wings flutter from every corner of the canopy. Centipedes half the length of an Agori crawl up and down the vast trees. Bats -- some smaller than your hand, some twice your height -- flit everywhere, feasting on a cloud of gleaming insects, plucking the choicest meals from the swarm. The forest is awake, and so am I. I like to sleep. I like to sleep because I like to dream; dreaming reminds that I’m still alive. But it’s not easy, especially as of late. The things I’ve seen... the things that I’ve encountered in the past few months have left scars on my soul that will never heal. Images are carved into the inside of my skull, and I can never stop seeing them. Some are enemies. Annona. The baterra. The screaming thing that stalked the tunnels of Roxtus. Others are friends, companions, people I’ve known and lost. My father. My brother. Aviruk, Xela, Telluris. Phantom. Her. Those ones are worse. I see them in their last moments, begging for mercy that they won’t receive -- or I see them the day I lost sight of them, the day they slipped away into the uncaring world and vanished into the void. Better to focus on the animals. The day I saw a sandfish leap from the desert, soar over a crested dune, gleaming in the golden sunlight. The herds of sand stalkers roaming the earth, magnificent in their multitudes. My spikit, and the hard-fought battle to tame her. All of these give me warmth and fleeting happiness, but not peace. Never peace. I sigh. I know I won’t be sleeping tonight. I rise, stretch my limbs, and fasten my armor and helmet before grabbing a knife. You can’t take an evening stroll through the jungle without a knife. The vines alone would tangle and snare you, sure as any spiderweb, and leave you for the raptors. It also helps keep the wing-leeches away, and a bit of moonlight reflecting off the blade can spook most creatures. I only hope I don’t step into any ants. Their legions forgive no trespass, and they’re too small to stab. The jungle by night has a strange, dangerous allure. The canopy barely lets any moonlight trickle through, and the forest becomes a well of shadows. A crunch, a rustle, a footstep could be anything or anyone. It’s not for the faint of heart, but for the curious fools like me, it’s a lovely game. I whirl at a sound -- only a monitor lizard. It glances up at me, holding its head high, before scurrying off into the leaves to run down rats and insects. Knife at the ready, I keep moving along. The shadows stretch all around, yawning, gaping -- pulling at me. Every gap between trees, every clearing of leaves presents a new path to follow, a new place to explore. After I came of age, exploring the jungle was my favorite pastime. I could spend years doing this. Once, I actually did, after losing track of time during a personal retreat. She wasn’t very happy with me afterwards, but we made up. After all, the only thing that vexed her was that I neglected to bring her along. We were kindred souls, both explorers at heart. But I mustn’t think of that. I came out here to forgot about such things. She’s not here anymore... none of them are... not friendly Xela, not stony-faced Aviruk, not even batty old Telluris. Just me. Out of all the ones who hid on Bara Magna, I’m the only survivor. For that matter, if the Wild Ones have had their way here, I might be the only one left on all the earth. Another noise, just behind me! This one sounded something like a centipede, its many legs skittering up knotted tree-bark. But as I turn, there isn’t a tree for several meters. What was that, then? Some peculiar insect’s call? Perhaps a spider scuttling across the undergrowth? I turn back, taking a step forwards. As the leaves crackle under my foot, I stop short -- heartbeat and all. A figure is standing ahead of me, just at the edge of the gloom, silhouetted by total blackness. I’ve met some unsavory characters in the jungle these past few weeks, but then again, I’ve met loving and caring ones, too. Can’t assume the worst of someone, else I’d be no better than the rest of the Agori. “Curious time to be out walking, isn’t it?” “I could ask the same of you, Sahmad,” comes a voice, one strangely familiar. Is it -- her? No, it couldn’t be, that’s just wishful thinking. But who...? “Who are you, if you don’t mind my asking? You recognize me, and yet you’re not running in panic, so that makes you a very special citizen of Spherus Magna.” “Clever Sahmad. Your wit’s just as young and fresh as the rest of you,” says the figure, stepping closer. Whose voice it is, I think I know -- but that can’t be possible. Can it? “...Xela?” The light is just enough to show my companion’s wrinkled, smiling face. Her tawny eyes glimmer with a youthful air alien to her aged skin. There’s no doubt about it. This is Xela. “Oh, Sahmad, you haven’t aged a day!” Xela grins, wrapping me in a hug. I can’t help but return the favor. “I can’t believe it. All these years, and you’re just the same as ever!” “Hardly, Xela. I’ve gone through a lot lately,” I reply, recalling my recent exploits. “Skrall are everywhere nowadays, and you know how hard it is to bargain with them.” “True. But if I had to choose any merchant to do it, it’d be you!” Xela says, chuckling. “I swear, even rocks bend to your will.” “You flatter me. Now, how is Garut? And Samis?” I feel a rush of excitement. “Tell me everything!” “Why tell when I can show?” Xela replies. “Come, follow me. It’s the Day of Chill Winds; everyone’s headed inside for the winter. You’re just in time for the feast.” The table spread before us is rich with food and wine. Grain from the Earth Tribe, rich meat caught by the Jungle Tribe, with exotic spices and dishes brought from the corners of the globe by the Water Tribe. Children dance around the table, wearing patchwork wooden masks and brandishing spears and sticks. The cave chamber is furnished with orange torches and macabre decorations. It’s all part of the autumn festival, when the tribe retreats into the mountain caves for the winter. Supposedly, the masks and decor are meant to scare off the cave scorpions and keep them from preying on the tribe as we wait out the winter. I’ve always found simply avoiding cave scorpion nests to be a more successful strategy than antagonizing them, but I can’t say no to some good fun. After all, the kids will be cooped up all season; better to get all that restless energy out of the way quickly. Xela seats me between Aviruk and Metus, serving me a lavish plate of lizard-fish and Fire Tribe pasta. While Aviruk discusses politics with Samis, I turn to Metus and introduce myself. “I hear business is booming in the Frost. You Ice Tribers had better not beat us at our own game, or else there’ll be trouble!” “Do I need to worry about an Iron Tribe army?” Metus says, then adds, “That’s a joke. Business is great, Sahmad. They’ve just struck a massive vein of exisidian next to the white quartz deposits; seems like it goes all the way to the planet’s core. Say, I’m no Fire Triber, but I’ve always felt that your ores would make excellent alloys with exsidian. They’re too proud to accept a proposal from some coldhearted Ice Triber like me, but with your force of personality combined with my tactical mind, I think we could make something great. After all, triple the tribes means triple the profit -- but, of course, who says we’d need to give the Fire Tribe an even share? That’s a joke.” I’ve finished my ravenous assault on the lizard-fish, and Xela is happy to whisk away my plate, leaving the table momentarily clear before me. As Metus yammers on about his dealings with some uptight Fire Tribe merchant, I can’t help but glance down at the table and notice that someone has etched in the dark wood a small, equilateral triangle. “Say, what’s this all about? Did you see who did this?” I ask Metus. He shrugs. “Didn’t see it. Might have come like that. You know how Jungle Tribers are -- they’ll try to slip rotting wood past you and charge you full payment. Darn tree-climbing apes still haven’t gotten used to walking on two legs!” When my smile fails to reappear, he hastily adds his disclaimer that the remark was, in fact, a joke, but I’m not paying attention. Scribed in the stone beside my foot is another triangle. “That’s... peculiar,” I murmur. “I’ll say,” mutters Telluris, looming over my shoulder. He discards his drink and kneels to the ground, whisking out his inspection goggles. “I always carry these with me; you’d be surprised how often they come in handy!” “Yes, yes, but what’s this all about?” I ask, glancing around and noticing three more triangles, all carved in the walls and ceiling. “It’s going to cost us to fill these in, you know!” “Calm down, Sahmad, dear,” says Xela. “I’m sure it was just some child’s ill-devised prank. I’ll track the little scamp down and make sure their parents give them a good talking-to.” “No, it’s... it’s more than that. I don’t know how, but these mean something.” More triangles on the wall, almost as if they’d just appeared. A tribesman walks by, carrying an emptied plate with a triangle carved in the clay. “Well, of course they mean something, Sahmad!” Telluris says, chuckling. “Do you mean to say you don’t know the story of the Ancient Trinity?” “No, I don’t. I mean, I mean to say that I don’t know the story,” I reply, annoyed at myself for becoming flustered. “Who is this Ancient Trinity, and what do they have to do with this petty vandalism?” “The Trinity?” Telluris says, and Metus says, and Xela says. Every voice in the room has spoken as one. I freeze. A triangle has been carved in Telluris’ jacket. “The Trinity, Sahmad. The three that exist, that will exist, that have always existed.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Really, I don’t.” “The thief. The coward. The madman,” Telluris says, stepping forwards, still wearing those ridiculous goggles. “They change names, change faces, but the roles remain the same. It’s all echoes, Sahmad. Just echoes of the Three Who Were, at the beginning of time, and at the end.” “Stop this!” I cry. “Look, Telluris, if I’m going to have to spend months in a cave with you, at least try to make it bearable!” A torch goes out. I notice another triangle in the floor. Telluris keeps moving, and now Metus, too, rises, walking towards me. His form shifts and slithers, like a serpent. “The thief. The coward. The madman,” Metus says. “Of course, who’s to say I’m the coward, or that he’s the madman?” “I’d call you both madmen at this point,” I say, reaching for my jungle-knife and finding only a spoon. Another torch goes out. “She is not dead. She can never die, not so long as her work persists,” say the two lunatics in unison. “The spawn of madness will haunt the world in her absence, even as her faithful work to bridge the divide between worlds and undo the mortal’s trick.Your trick.” Something tugs at the back of my mind. Spawn of madness...? But that’s irrelevant. Best deal with these two. It seems that everyone else in the room has vanished. It’s just me, them, and an ever-growing horde of triangles. “You have offended her. Harmed her, even humiliated her,” they chant. “You have gone against the sacred order of things that Have Been and Will Always Be. You, some pitiable ape who dares to reach above his station, will fall, just as your Great Beings will fall, and all those whom you call friend!” “Well, I’ve got you there. I don’t call anyone ‘friend’ nowadays; they’re all dead and gone,” I say, starting to remember. “Even you’re dead, Telluris! How do you like that?” “I adore it,” Telluris says, and grins. His smile stretches from ear to ear, then past that, stretching, curling, lifting up the flaps of his skin and peeling back the flesh. As the last layers curl off and hang to the sides, his bare skull continues to grin, still wearing those accursed goggles. His bone is scorched and burnt, and his outstretched hands are blackened and sizzling. “I know her, Sahmad, and she knows me. She knows all of us, in the end. Our hopes, our dreams, our nightmares -- we bare our souls to her, every night. And in death, we return to her.” “You’re lying. She doesn’t have that kind of power,” I growl. “No one has that kind of power!” Now only one torch remains in the room, flickering across a chamber covered in scrawled triangles. It might just be the light, but I could swear I see shapes moving up the tunnels, headed for the room, and I hear a scuttling behind me. “They’re coming for you, Sahmad,” says Telluris, grinning, as Metus coils around his arms and bares his fangs. “The Malformed will have you. The Screamer, the Bloody One, the Gateway. They crawl under the Spawn of Fear’s banner, and they see you. They feel you. They will find you, Sahmad, they will claim you, and they will drag you down into the fate you so richly deserve!” My back hits the wall. There’s nowhere I can go. Telluris and Metus stand before me; the creatures coming through the tunnels are almost visible; the last torch sputters and prepares to die. I look down. Another triangle, this one carved around me. I’m standing in it. As I look down, its edges move inwards, erasing rock and stone where they go, opening up an empty void. I reach out, try to grab something, anything, but I grab only scorching mist -- and I fall. I wake, mouth panting, heart pounding, slicked in sweat. Despite the jungle’s vibrant air, I feel a terrible chill in my veins. A soft orange glow spreads from one horizon. Good -- daylight is here. I might as well get up; I’m certainly not doing any more sleep, not after that hellish ordeal. My limbs quiver as I stand and take shaky steps down the path, and my fingers twitch, tapping my knife-hilt: rat-tat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat-tat. I try to control my breathing. Everything is safe. The sun is rising, the monkeys are howling. The heat must be getting to me, that’s what it is. Well, it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity. 100,000 years in a desert leaves a body woefully unprepared to face this kind of environment. The drastic change must have brought on a mock fever. Or perhaps I have caught something; who’s to say that Water Tribe healer practiced proper sanitation? Maybe my wound from the Dark Hunters has developed gangrene. No, probably just climate shock; no need to overthink it. The stream babbles in front of me, and I see six-legged silverfish leaping from the waters, frolicking in the growing sunlight. The sight calms a weary mind. The danger has passed; it was only a fevered fiction in my mind. Annona is dead, or just as well, and there’s nothing she can do about it. It’s time to wash up and go back to work on the memorial stones. I kneel down before the stream, unclasp my helmet, and glance down at my reflection. I pause. There’s a scratch on my cheek. I lean in closer to inspect it, and -- The face staring back at me isn’t mine. It can’t be mine. After all, my face isn’t covered entirely in tiny, equilateral triangles. A screaming noise begins to echo in the back of my mind, building, intensifying to a keening pitch. It takes me several moments to realize it’s coming from me. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Please give reviews and constructive criticisms below! If you liked the story, you should check out "Sahmad's Tales" to find more of the same. I intend to post "Last Respects", the tale of Sahmad's journey through Bota Magna, in the coming weeks, if the fates align, and I have at least one more story arc planned for afterwards. Thank you, and Happy Halloween!

This is part of the reason that BS01 lists promotional animations as being non-canon.

This one was... interesting, I have to say. I like the idea of exploring connections between Okoto and Spherus Magna (even if it might be a little precocious, since we haven't even seen the Masters in story yet), and I always love seeing more of your post-Mata Nui Spherus Magna. However, there were a few details of characterization that didn't really appeal to me. Lewa's antics in this story seemed a little too over-the-top, even for him, though that might just be personal taste at work. The one thing that bothered me the most, though, was the Vahi's personality. Don't get me wrong; I thought the idea of making the Vahi an actual character was very clever and very interesting. However, its mannerisms were completely at odds with my concept of the Mask of Time. I would have depicted it as a detached, objective "watcher" with an alien concept of cause and effect, or something to that end; you, however, opted for a completely zany and fast-talking character with a quip every other sentence. While that's a valid choice, it really didn't appeal to me, so that made it very difficult for me to appreciate the Vahi's interactions with Onua. You might as well have replaced the Vahi with Vezon in this case. That previous paragraph might sound a little harsh, but since the Vahi was only present for the story's climax, it is not representative of my feelings towards the whole story. You seem to have a very good grasp of Onua's character, and it's nice to see him fleshed out a little by putting him in new situations. Also, does this story suggest that Johmak is the current leader of the Order of Mata Nui? If so, I highly approve; she would be my first choice in the absence of Helryx. (Actually, that gives me an idea -- have you considered writing a story that deals with the events in the cursed Great Being's tower? If you don't do it, I will. )

Honestly, I found most of the Toa to have pretty boring personalities. They're just your standard heroes with a few individual traits and, if Greg's writing them, a healthy helping of snark. The Toa Mata/Nuva were always fun, but they weren't particularly complex or deep. The Toa Hagah and Toa Inika/Mahri basically had no characterization whatsoever, with the exception of Matoro and maybe Jaller. The Toa Metru/Hordika had the most characterization, so I'd probably go with them. They really did feel like six civilians, with six different civilian outlooks and mindsets. They were conscripted into an unwanted duty, but rose to the occasion in different ways, and they had real chemistry. They were a joy to read. I also liked Tuyet, because she gave us an interesting look at what happens when a Toa goes too far.

Nope. The Toa Mata trained on Daxia. (Source: BIONICLE Legends 10: Swamp of Secrets.)

Well, we could never really control the enthusiasm of LMB posters who do not belong to BZP, and I'm not sure we should. Many of them are just children anyway, and their exuberance and curiosity should not be stifled or discouraged. I support Thormen's guidelines, however, because BZP members who utilize the LMB thread should try to do so in a manner that doesn't cause conflict and discord. By minimizing the disruptive questions we ask, we will be better prepared to deal with any problem questions that the other posters throw at Greg.

Update: Velika is, somehow, responsible for Atakus having his blades. The GBs built the baterra and Velika would have been in communication with him, so I can't see why this would not be possible.

I think what Dorek is saying is that there should at least be some tangible gain from asking questions on the LMB thread. Before leaping to ask the question, think about where or if that information will be put on BS01 and what clarity or benefit it offers to fans.

Sorry, Archon~. After weighing the arguments, Greg says Vastus isn't a secret agent. Based on this, i don't think there is enough evidence to implicate Vastus. Also, in a weird forgetcon-ish thing, Greg implies Atakus has his blades because of Velika. We know that Velika didn't give the blades to him, since that would contradict the information given in Mata Nui's Guide to Bara Magna. However, based on the wording, this answer is ambiguous and could be taken to mean that Velika indirectly arranged for Atakus to receive the blades, or otherwise was responsible. It's weird. Yes

I would like to point out that Greg did not say he would be "vilified by certain fan sites", but rather "vilified on certain fan sites" (emphasis mine). Assuming that Greg has turned his back on BZPower entirely because of a few negative remarks would be rather insulting to his emotional maturity; after all, he's a grown man, which is more than most of the people on this website can say. He made a casual joke about the recent pushback to canonization, and that's all there really is to be inferred.

That's what I've done. I've given him what I think is a pretty balanced amount of arguments for and against it, so all it really comes down to now is Greg's understanding of the character.

Fenrakk For better or for worse... yes, it is.

Toa Terrain Crawler Stinger Whale Spider Crab Takea/Underwater Ray Mutation Yeah. They're canon.

BS01 has been wondering about a minor bit of trivia. After the 2005 playsets depicted the Toa Hordika using some sort of staff weapon, it was canonized that they found and used those weapons during the Great Rescue. However, the 2006 playsets also depict the Toa Inika wielding similar weapons. Simply put, the question is: are those weapons meant to represent their normal weapons, or are they other weapons (and if so, were they ever canonized)? I'm asking BZP S&T first instead of Greg, in compliance with BS01's new "slow-go" policy on canonization. This question has probably been asked before, so all it should take is fishers64 to settle this.

Anyone remember that thread I ran about who might be one of Velika's Bara Magna agents? Well, after several attempts to get that question (and others) answered, my efforts have finally paid off. Atakus is one of Velika's agents. (Also, the Kanohi Jutlin is made from Weaken disks, and we've got some quality Farshtey snark about the recent canonization debate. Interestingly, Greg has elected not to respond to queries about the origins of the Skakdi Fusion.) 1) Yes 2) At the risk of being vilified on certain fan sites, yes. 3) Metus I can confirm was not. Neither was Berix. Atakus was. As far as Vastus goes, I would like to hear the arguments for why people think he would have been before making a call on that.

Normally, I'd feel compelled to add a witty remark, but I think Greg Farshtey is more than capable of speaking for himself. Bolded is the best part. Did someone ask him a question or something. How did he find out about this? I was wondering the same thing. Keep in mind, though -- Greg isn't legally prevented from reading BZPower material, only from interacting with members who might be under 13 years of age. He could be reading this thread as we type...

The only reason I didn't vote "super excited" is because I don't think I'm capable of that level of excitement. XD While I love everything about the sets and the story so far, I'm hesitant to build up my hopes too high. I still remember getting psyched for 2009, and then being horribly, horribly disappointed.

This thread's been a little neglected as of late, hasn't it? Regardless, I think this post certainly deserves to be here: In which Greg Farshtey gives clarification on the increasing frequency of canonizations in the LMB thread.

Well, there you have it. Normally, I'd feel compelled to add a witty remark, but I think Greg Farshtey is more than capable of speaking for himself.

Greg is the writer of this series. What he says goes. No fan group can just come along and say "Everything Greg says after October 20th, 2014, is not canon." If Greg DIDN'T want these things canonized, he had the right to say no. Just like with Hydraxon's helmet, he said no. Several things I asked Greg, mostly Fikou stuff, Greg didn't want to answer because he thought they made the story too complex. Or when I was telling him about how a Toa of Water could control the liquids in SM inhabitants, and I compared it with bloodbending from Avatar, he still refused, because he didn't like the idea.. When I gave an idea on how Toa of Earth could control magma, and Toa of Stone lava, he said no, because he didn't like it. Besides, does having 20-something colors of Fikou affect anyone.... Without LMB, we wouldn't know for sure that Lehvak-Kal is in orbit. (Oh, and I just found out how awful BIONICLE Wikia is. They still don't have the current status for him. ) Boidoh, I can't help but notice that most of your examples given start with "I asked Greg...", "I gave an idea...", or "I was telling him...", etc. It does you no credit to exclusively cite examples of your own personal involvement and canonization theories. Obviously, they are of great merit and great value to you, but other fans don't have the same interests. Arguments are most persuasive when they (appear to) judge subjects based on objective value and merit. That said, I do agree with Boidoh. We can't just shut down canonization entirely, because that removes all pretense of the canon being a neutral, shared continuity, and would reduce the definition of "canon" to "everything that TheSkeletonMan939 (or some other minority of fans) thought was acceptable". So that's out. However, what we can do is strongly suggest that those of us who ask Greg questions restrain themselves, and try not to ask questions that will cause this sort of consternation. Does that sound agreeable to everyone?