Who’s the worst?

I recently watched all three seasons of The Orville, Seth MacFarlane’s parody/homage to Star Trek. Mostly just to kill time until the next real Star Trek show drops. The first season was as bad as I imagined and worse, but a handful of characters were charming enough to bring me back. The show improves a great deal with each consecutive season, finding its own identity as a sci-fi comedy that wears its influences on its sleeve. The Orville was able to take on missions that would have been far too controversial or salacious for the Enterprise, and with a better sense of humor than any other Trek show made before Lower Decks.

Despite being quite possibly my most favorite thing ever, Star Trek has one consistent, glaring narrative flaw. Unlikable characters, the ones who are rude and offensive to our heroes, almost always turn out to be villains. If someone acts like a jerk on Star Trek, there’s a very good chance he is hiding a secret that could start a war or end the universe. The scientist that’s a little too proud of his work, the admiral that thinks Starfleet has gotten soft, or the old Klingon warrior looking for a glorious last stand. Anybody who behaves unprofessionally is immediately suspect, and usually up to no good. But real people are more complicated than that—the guy that always annoys you at work isn’t a malicious mastermind, just an obnoxious person that won’t take a hint.

The Orville wholeheartedly embraces moral ambiguity in its better stories. And one thing it has that Star Trek doesn’t is people who are difficult, but not evil. There are characters who are quite unpleasant antagonists without crossing into full-on villainy. The other characters and the audience may come to hate them, but they are usually revealed to just be scared and angry people lashing out. The Orville has plenty of characters that range from mild irritants to major nuisances without ever escalating to mustache-twirling. 

Which begs the question—who is the most unlikable character on The Orville? 

Let’s narrow our selection by eliminating the actual villains. Teleya uses misinformation and fear-mongering to goad the Krill into a never-ending holy war. Isaac has a redemption arc, but he only needed one because he betrayed all of his friends and facilitated the murder of thousands of innocent people. And every member of the Moclan government we have ever seen is a rabid misogynist willing to mutilate or murder any women unfortunate enough to be born on their world. Those people are all up to some supervillain shit, so of course we’re not meant to like them. But what about characters who are just abrasive, not bad?

The Kaylon

Captain Ed Mercer was unbearably naive in the first season, abandoning all reason every time a pretty girl pays any attention to him, and afterward he wonders why he’s so easily manipulated. But he actually grows and becomes a better person and a leader over the next two seasons, so I’ll give Ed a pass. Same goes for Dann, who becomes less annoying as we slowly learn more about him over time. Yaphit could use a refresher course on appropriate workplace behavior, but he’s not really hurting anybody. All of these characters are tedious to put up with at times, but they’re hardly hated. No, when it comes to the least liked characters of The Orville, there’s really only two contenders: Klyden or Charly Burke.

Klyden is a civilian, the mate of Second Officer Bortus. They are Moclans, members of an all-male race, and their culture has some very regressive attitudes toward gender. Females are seen as weak, an aberration to be “corrected.” Any alien societies that include women are viewed as inherently inferior. While Bortus has kept an open mind and learned to form healthy working and personal relationships with different people from across the galaxy, Klyden remained a staunch traditionalist who was disgusted by the very idea of women and avoided interacting with them as much as possible. And when Klyden’s vitriol for the feminine was revealed to be a reflection of his own twisted self-hatred, he discarded any possibility to learn or grow from it. Instead he defends the cruel system that created him, and teaches its intolerant values to his child. Klyden was the one who insisted upon an unnecessary sex change operation to turn his infant daughter into a son, and then taught her to look down on others and despise herself just as he did. And when she finally dares to assert her own identity, he tells her he wishes she had never been born, which has got to be the cruelest thing a parent can tell you on any planet. Klyden is such a hateful bigot that he even reaches out to ruin the lives of other people in his free time.

Charly Burke is an ensign on the Orville, the navigator. She joins the crew after her previous ship, the Quimby, was destroyed in the war against the Kaylon. Unlike the rest of the crew, Burke is not willing to forgive Isaac for helping the Kaylon kill so many human beings. She avoids him when she can, and loudly protests his presence when she can’t. She is openly racist, deliberately cruel, and wildly unprofessional at times. Many viewers also complained that she was a hyper-competent Mary Sue, but where else would a young highly motivated and super talented overachiever in a post-utopian space-faring future go if not the bridge of a starship? It would actually make less sense if she wasn’t one of their most brilliant officers. And I have to point out that real Mary Sue characters don’t get entire episodes dedicated to learning they were wrong. 

That’s the key difference. In the end, Charly Burke learns and changes. She tries to make up for her mistakes. She even sacrifices her own life to prevent the genocide of a people she considered her enemy because it was the right thing to do. Klyden does not have any such redemptive moment. Only after his daughter is kidnapped and tortured by the Moclan government does he make apologies and beg forgiveness. His sudden realization that he should love and protect his child whether they be a son or daughter is really the bare minimum of parenting. Klyden’s awakening feels all the more late and unimpressive considering Bortus, his mate, arrived at the same conclusion the moment their child was born. Maybe Klyden would have continued his journey to redemption in the mythical fourth season, but he has consistently displayed the least awareness and concern for others, doing the most collateral damage, and playing the victim while surrounded by all the fires he lit. By the end of the show, every time Klyden was on screen I found myself asking “What the hell does Bortus even see in him?” Bortus has called out Klyden on his ignorance and hatred, as well as expressed serious concern over how his attitudes were affecting the development of their child, on multiple occasions. Despite Klyden making no effort to change and doubling down on his most toxic beliefs and behaviors, Bortus not only stays with him but renews their vows in a ridiculous Moclan ceremony. Honestly, I kind of judge Bortus for his choice to keep such a terrible influence in his child’s life. His daughter was contemplating suicide because of how Klyden treated her. How could you possibly welcome a person like that back into your family? It’s not like Klyden made some heartfelt gesture to show he had changed. He just showed up and said sorry. Which is an important first step, but that’s all it is. As far as what’s on screen, we have seen no evidence that Klyden has truly improved as a person.

By contrast, we see Burke confront and grapple with her own preconceptions. When she receives new information, she re-evaluates her beliefs and changes them. She’s still plenty obnoxious, with her holier-than-thou attitude and a tendency to run her mouth in front of her superiors, but she is actively making an effort to be a better person. On two separate occasions she saves the life of an enemy because she acknowledges that her prejudice is not an acceptable reason to let a person die, while Klyden’s unchecked bigotry drives him to harm others who never did him any wrong. When confronted, Klyden never admits wrongdoing or remorse—he is only ever sorry that he got caught.

So there you have it. Klyden’s the winner—he is the The Worst on the Orville. While lots of people suck, it takes a special kind of asshole to realize just how much you suck and actively decide to do nothing about it. Who knows, maybe Klyden would have continued a redemption arc is some future episodes that never got produced. But based purely on what happens on-screen, Klyden was a violent hateful bigot whose ignorance and abuse did unspeakable damage to his family and even cost the lives of many innocent bystanders. He may seem like a nice guy upon first meeting, but once you get to know him, he is most definitely not.

Because this is the internet, I need to add this explainer at the end. Declaring Klyden the most unlikable character on The Orville is not a value judgement on how the character is written or acted. Klyden is unlikable because of his actions, and I believe that is an intentional choice by the creators to have him serve a narrative function in their storytelling. I’m not saying that anybody made a mistake or did anything wrong. Klyden is unlikable on purpose, and the character is very well-executed by both the writers and the actor to promote such a visceral reaction in so many people. He is not a bad character, he is a bad person.

The Orville in flight

Breaking scandal in japan

A recent post of mine was all about how the Red Bull BC One increased the mainstream visibility and legitimacy of breakdancing as a sport by treating it like other major sporting events. And while that has helped elevate breaking to Olympic heights, becoming a recognized sport also brings downsides of equal depth. There’s still the toxic masculinity bullshit I mentioned previously, and there are a few competitive b-boys already collecting sexual misconduct allegations like pro athletes. Of course those are both very bad things that need to be addressed sooner rather than later, but there is one threat that could cripple the fledgling sport just as it steps onto the world stage—match fixing. 

A cancer that corrupts the spirit of fair competition at the heart of every beloved sport, even rumors of match fixing could undermine the confidence of both the athletes and the audience in the authenticity of the game. If either of those groups don’t believe they are witnessing a legitimate contest, the sport can’t survive. Skilled athletes don’t join competitions known for match fixing, and if a competition can’t attract skilled athletes, it won’t attract an audience, either. This is especially important in more subjective forms of competition like breaking, where the winner isn’t decided simply by calculating points. The judges for such a contest must be competent and trustworthy, otherwise no one will care about their results. To that end, the judges must avoid even the appearance of impropriety. Sadly, that has not been the case in Japan as of late. 

Let me open this next section with the caveat that my sources for the following are a lot of YouTube videos and comments, as well as Google translations of interviews in Japanese. It is entirely possible that I have misinterpreted things, but this is just my admittedly incomplete understanding of what seems to be breakdancing’s first match fixing scandal. 

Watching the Japan cypher was a puzzling experience for myself and many others, judging by the sheer volume of commentary. The engagement on most b-boy content is just declarations of who is awesome or not, occasionally interrupted by requests for the name of the song playing. But the results of the 2023 cypher whipped up a storm of indignant questions that was soon followed by a wave of disappointingly predictable answers. It’s the first time I can remember hearing the entire crowd vociferously reject the judges’ decision. Everyone wanted to know: just how the hell did B-boy Nicolas win?

Nicolas’ questionable victory

As I noted in my previous post, Japanese b-boys tend to put more emphasis on footwork than their counterparts in other countries. So much so that last year they had a competitor in their top sixteen who didn’t have any power moves, just fancy footwork and freezes. And he was eliminated in the first round, which makes sense as he completely lacked one of the major pillars of breaking. This year, Japan’s top sixteen contained no less than three competitors with finely detailed toprock, but no power moves. Not only did they all survive the first round, one of them—Nicolas—somehow defeated four obviously superior b-boys and won it all to a chorus of head scratches. Nicolas was clearly, demonstrably not on the same level as his opponents. He did not have the quick and clean execution of Hiro10, nor a vast vocabulary of moves like Shosei, and he lacked Gen Roc’s mastery of all the fundamentals of breaking. That includes power moves, of which Nicolas had none. In the final battle, Gen Roc was still pulling out new moves while Nicolas fumbled and repeated himself, utterly failing to impress. Quite simply, Nicolas is a long way from being a world-class b-boy. Yet, to the surprise of everyone including Nicolas himself, he won. And the internet said “Um, what?”

What I was able to glean from all the angry chatter that resulted was that one of the judges belonged to the same dance crew as B-boy Nicolas: the Floorriorz, which is a portmanteau of “floor” and “warriors.” It is a really stupid name. But that’s not all! A second judge is the girlfriend of that first judge with a glaring conflict of interest, and she followed his lead on every vote, pushing his under-qualified crewmate all the way to final circle, where they robbed Gen Roc of the chance to compete against the best b-boys in the world and possibly bring a third championship belt to Japan. Instead, Nicolas is going all the way to Paris to get hilariously trounced in the first round when none of his friends are in the judge’s chair. An embarrassing loss of face for Japanese b-boys, but at least the Floorriorz get to claim another world final contender on their roster! 

Apparently this isn’t the first final the Floorriorz have fixed. Back in 2017, the Japan cypher had one of its most underwhelming final battles ever as two b-boys with no power moves just traded footwork until the crowd fell asleep. Even with the bar set so low, b-boy Steez managed to turn in a particularly pathetic performance that was painfully slow, unoriginal, unimpressive, unable to hit a beat, and of course, completely lacking power moves. Despite doing nothing we hadn’t seen before and doing it poorly to boot, Steez was named Japan’s 2017 champion. And the internet said “Um, what?” 

The underwhelming Ryo vs. Steez final battle from 2017

Well, I’m sure you will be shocked to hear that b-boy Steez and two of the judges at that 2017 cypher were all members of the Floorriorz dance crew at the time. Even better, Steez never made it to the finals that year because he got knocked out during the Last Chance Cypher that decides who the sixteen world finalists will be. So the Floorriorz have compromised the integrity of the competition in Japan at least twice (that we know of) for their own gain, and have only gotten more flagrant about it. Back in 2017, they at least tried to set up Steez against a weak opponent so he would look better by comparison. This year, they pitted Nicolas against an actual world-class b-boy, making it obvious to even the most casual observer that the fix was in. It’s an insult and an injustice to all the b-boys who entered that cypher and danced their best to be denied and disregarded because of some sleazy backstage politics. The best b-boys in Japan aren’t going to keep giving their all at the Red Bull BC One if they know their skill, talent and style can be beaten by a secret handshake. At the very least, the Floorriorz should be banned from judging or participating in any events for five years, and Red Bull needs to seriously examine their recruitment criteria for judges. Allowing teammates to judge each other seems like the most obvious conflict of interest that should be avoided in an athletic competition, and it’s weird that nobody in the organization seems to think that might be a problem. As of this writing, I have not seen any comment from Red Bull on this controversy. 

But wait! It gets worse! After watching translated post-battle interviews with both questionable winners, I discovered an unsettling similarity. Both Steez and Nicolas espoused more than a few talking points of a toxic false philosophy that seeks to undermine the very foundations of breaking to serve a selfish desire to make it “easier” for less skilled dancers to compete at the highest levels. They proclaim themselves the pioneers of a “new, abstract style” that’s somehow “more artistic” because it doesn’t rely on “flashy power moves.” As if this were some kind of aesthetic choice on their part, and not just a lame excuse for why they can’t do power moves. They insinuate that breakdancing has been dumbed down by an unfair emphasis on the moves they are personally unable to do. That breaking is being dominated by jocks performing feats of strength rather than artists expressing themselves. And I can only assume the Floorriorz hold this view as well, since they’ve gone to such lengths to force it into the spotlight.

All of that is complete and utter nonsense, and I’ll tell you why. They are not inventing a “new style.” Below-average b-boys have been telling themselves this since the late 1990s. The simple fact is that power moves are one of the pillars of breaking, and if you can’t do any, then you aren’t the best breakdancer in the world. There’s a world of difference between not depending on power moves and not having any at all. The first one is an artistic choice, while the second is a personal shortcoming. To put in perspective just how absurd their assertions are, it would be like a figure skater that refuses to do any spinning moves. That might be interesting to watch, but it definitely wouldn’t win her any Olympic medals, because the best figure skaters in the world can spin. If you can’t spin, you are not one of the best in the world, and the same is true of breaking. The difference is that these insecure subpar b-boys refused to accept that they might need to work harder to become world class contenders, so instead they started a disinformation campaign trying to convince everyone that power moves don’t matter and aren’t even that cool anyway, but are somehow also unfairly favored and exclusionary. A bad faith argument and a victim complex wrapped up in one toxic package that could poison the core of breakdancing.

Power moves are not this dominating force in competitive breaking. Sure, there will always be “b-bros” that try to brute force their way to the finals by just cramming as many moves as they can into 90 seconds, but the important thing to note is that those guys don’t win. Contrary to the Floorriorz position, the world finals is not even remotely saturated with powerhouses that win despite ignoring footwork and style. In fact, “too much spinning, not enough dancing” has become a common critique leveled by judges and commentators at b-boys who forget to listen to the beat. There are plenty of very successful b-boys out there that use few traditional power moves, or replace them with their own creations. Two-time world champ B-boy Lilou’s abstract style used absurd acrobatics to break up his bouts of brilliant downrocking, while former Japanese champ Issei won the big belt in 2016 by saving his few power moves as punctuation in a performance of impeccable footwork. His reserved approach actually defeated an impressive onslaught of combos by former champ Hong10, proof that power alone doesn’t win the world title. One thing all three of those former world champs have in common—they can all spin on their heads, but it’s not even close to their most impressive trick.

Hong10 vs. Issei in the world final battle of 2016

Ultimately, every proponent of this fake philosophy is a hypocrite. They falsely accuse their betters of under-appreciating footwork while they completely ignore power moves and whine about not getting the recognition they don’t deserve. You don’t get to be the best at any art or sport by refusing to engage with parts of it. Just like a figure skater refusing to twirl, or a gymnast that won’t jump, a b-boy that can’t spin on his head has no place in the world championships. It is the height of entitlement for these power-free dancers to insist they belong there, especially since there is an entirely separate category that caters exclusively to them! That’s right—the Red Bull BC One, along with most of the other big breaking tournaments in the world, host footwork-only competitions alongside the main event. These guys literally have their own tournaments where power moves aren’t allowed, but that isn’t enough. They want to be able to beat the best b-boys in the world without putting in the hard work to actually become better dancers, so they want to win by changing the rules instead. And that idea is completely antithetical to the spirit of breakdancing. You try to top your opponent, not drag them down. You win by doing better. In competitive breaking, dancers are scored on several metrics: number of moves, complexity/difficulty of moves, footwork, execution, style, and musicality. If your opponent combos a flare into a headspin, and you reply with two minutes of downrock, you already know you didn’t top him. To insist otherwise is either dishonest or delusional.

The Red Bull BC One’s footwork-only competition in 2023

If this corruption is allowed to continue, it will irreparably damage the integrity of the sport. When a match is so flagrantly fixed that the entire audience can tell, it undermines everybody’s confidence that the competition will be judged in good faith, free of outside influence. The Red Bull BC One risks earning a reputation for running rigged games, and when that happens the world’s best b-boys won’t be battling in their circle anymore—it won’t be worth their sweat if the belt always goes to the judge’s friend. And the audience will go with them. Nobody wants to tune into three hours of mediocre b-boys practicing the six-step. The Red Bull BC One would become the worst thing an international athletic competition can be: boring.

Not related to this article, but I wanted to leave you with an actually good battle: Quake vs. Mighty Jake

Litreactor shutting down

Sadly, on October 9, LitReactor announced it will be shutting down. It was a site dedicated to the craft of writing, helping its practitioners refine their skills and tell their stories. Hundreds of articles, workshops and classes backed by a robust and active community, all of it dedicated to making writers better at what they do. It was as entertaining as it was informative, and I enjoyed learning a great deal from the site over the last decade. 

The end of an era

LitReactor was one of the first sites to pay me regularly to write. I was initially brought on to write about comic books and the movies that sprang from them, but eventually expanded into book reviews, video game criticism, and essays on the craft. While it didn’t pay any bills, it gave me the opportunity to explore interesting topics like character development, world building, and ludonarrative dissonance. I even managed to weigh in on some important issues, like mental health and police brutality. And having a byline on LitReactor opened the doors to a few other writing gigs over the years. 

Despite being a destination for writers looking to take their craft seriously, LitReactor was also host to many hilarious satirical bits, listicles, and all-around nonsense that reminded us to still have fun. Everything from dialogue tips to the worst schools in fiction. A salute to popular tropes right next to a clinical dissection of an entire genre. My favorite piece I ever wrote for LitReactor was “Your Favorite Book Sucks: The Giving Tree,” in which I draw an uncomfortably accurate comparison between the philosophies of Shel Silverstein’s beloved children’s book, and those of Iceberg Slim’s controversial classic novel Pimp. I thought it was hilarious. Some people took offense. But honestly, “The Giving Tree” is practically a how-to book on building toxic relationships.

LitReactor was a repository of interesting writing from a variety of viewpoints, and I consider myself lucky to have been one of them. A very unique corner of the internet will be going dark, and that’s always a bummer. Farewell, LitReactor. You will be missed.

All about b-boys

I love breakdancing. Always have. When I was a young boy, I saw a kid moonwalking on Sesame Street and was completely captivated by the otherworldly movement. To me, it looked impossible. I shared Big Bird’s amazement when Petey explained that the moonwalk belonged to a whole galaxy of wild moves known as breakdancing, and I was all in. Learned new moves injury by injury through pain and perseverance. Showed off at parties and school dances. Never won any competitions, or even qualified for them, but I enjoyed myself immensely. Eventually I discovered I was a much better DJ than a dancer, and so I left the floor behind for the booth. Although my own time as a breaker was quite short and unremarkable, I cultivated an appreciation for the form and the culture surrounding it, as well as an everlasting admiration for the b-boys, those dance samurai dueling for honor on the cardboard battlefield. To my eyes, the b-boy is a living symbol of the pure jubilation that comes from uniting a body with a beat. I have never seen anyone having more fun than a breakdancer who knows they are totally shredding. 

It’s been at least twenty years since I threw down in a circle. Definitely can’t do it now, with the bad back and carpal tunnel syndrome my brief b-boy phase gave me, all exacerbated by age. But I still enjoy seeing the form grow and flourish, and to that end, I watch the Red Bull BC One World Finals every year. Essentially the Super Bowl of breakdancing. It is not the first nor the only global breakdancing championship, but it is the most popular for a reason. Over the years they have refined competitive breaking into its simplest form, easy for even the most casual viewer to understand. They turned it into a real sporting event, with star performers playing to a stadium full of cheering spectators, and former contenders providing color commentary on the action. Their broadcasts are of equal value to fans new and old. And every year without fail, I see at least one ambitious b-boy do something impossible. It keeps me coming back, and continues to inspire new generations of dancers to join the circle. 

Most importantly, the Red Bull BC One has increased the visibility of breaking all around the world, bringing a wealth of new inspiration and energy to the sport. When I was a kid growing up in 1990s Texas, there weren’t a ton of resources for a wannabe breaker to draw on. You couldn’t just look up videos on the internet and there weren’t any classes to sign up for at the local gym, so I had to settle for wearing out my VHS copy of Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo as I tried to replicate the moves in the mirror. Now, high schools field breakdancing teams and there are waiting lists to get on them. Breaking is set to make its Olympic debut at the 2024 games in Paris, a city that houses a robust hip-hop scene to rival New York’s, and has produced more than a few world class dancers. As a sport, breakdancing is on the verge of getting all the respect and attention it deserves. 

This year I decided that in addition to the world final, I would also watch all of the qualifiers leading up to it. I’m really glad I did, because there are so many incredibly talented b-boys that never make it to the championship ring, but they are no less enthralling to behold. The finalists are all the more impressive now that I’ve seen the capable contenders they had to overcome to get there. And every year they raise the bar on what’s possible, creating new tricks and combining old ones in astounding ways. Back when I was learning, the headspin was basically a “game over” move—there was pretty much nothing your opponent could do that was cooler than that, except spin faster and longer than you. But if you want a shot at the world finals in 2023, spinning on your head is a prerequisite. A basic one, at that. If you can’t land a backflip on your head and spin into a windmill with no hands, you won’t be dancing in the last circle. In fact, the endless combo has become common enough that these days judges will penalize b-boys who do too much spinning and not enough dancing.

The hypothetical ideal b-boy strikes a perfect balance between dancer and athlete, adding a subjective element to the competition that cannot be overlooked. Physical prowess alone is not enough to win. Victory is not achieved by scoring the most goals, but by being the most compelling contestant to watch. Dancers are judged not just on the difficulty and execution of their moves, but also footwork, style, and musicality. I’ve seen plenty of powerhouses fizzle out despite their feats of superhuman strength because they ignored the beat. And I’ve seen b-boys defeat seemingly superior opponents with sheer force of personality. When two equally skilled b-boys throw down, the victor is often the one who appears to be having the most fun, making those impossible stunts look easy. But originality matters above all—performing the same catalogue of moves as everyone else won’t win you any oversized belts. That’s just gymnastics. 

Watching all of the cyphers around the world has also revealed interesting regional variances in breakdancing. Some things that I originally identified as personal stylistic differences between b-boys turned out to be the standard in their countries of origin. I believed former Japanese champion Issei to be a singularly skilled master of toprock, only to find out that all of the contenders in his homeland have the most impeccably detailed footwork. They spend much more time dancing upright than b-boys from other countries. One of Japan’s top 16 breakers last year didn’t even have any power moves—just fancy footwork and poses. Of course he was eliminated in the first round, but the fact he made it that far says a lot about how much his countrymen value the fine details of the dance. On the opposite end of the spectrum were Holland and Poland, fielding the most of what I’ve termed “b-bros.” Breakdancers built like football players who do only enough footwork to build up momentum for their ridiculous string of power moves without rhythm or reason, as if it were a contest of strength rather than a dance. While impressive, these displays are always defeated by those that actually listen to the music. Which is not to say these countries did not produce some world-class b-boys. Holland’s winner, Kid Colombia, embodies the best of both schools: all the speed and power of a linebacker combined with the grace of an ice skater and more flair than a crate of fireworks. And he makes it look so easy. Definitely my early pick for world champ this year. 

I’m sure everyone will be shocked to hear Brazil had the most hyped crowd. They made a righteous amount of noise, went absolutely nuts every time someone landed a dope trick, and some of them even waved handmade signs for their favorite b-boys. Brazil’s competitors also have the most tattoos, if anyone’s counting. Several had full body and face works. Even those I thought didn’t have any would reveal the ink on their chest as a soon as they did a handstand. Although tattoos are common on competitive breakers almost everywhere except Japan, I’d never seen them in such volume before.

The Austrians really love to spin. Even their footwork is spinning. I don’t know how they do it; I get dizzy just watching them. 

Taiwan had the most intense fashion choices. Almost nobody showed up in just sweats and a T-shirt. There was a guy with Super Saiyan hair and gold shades wearing a yellow and black striped prisoner uniform with red suspenders. One dude in a banana yellow hoodie facing a dude in an orange vinyl jacket. B-boy Jasper had a black and white checkered pattern all over his sweatsuit, and when he began to spin it looked like my screen was glitching. Even the few b-boys that didn’t bother to dress up still had colorful patterns of KT tape applied to their arms and back. Fashion is an important but often overlooked part of b-boy culture. Many just wear sweats or whatever athletic wear they find the most comfortable, which would be fine in any other sport where artistic expression doesn’t matter. A slam dunk in basketball is always worth two points, no matter how awesome the player looked doing it. But again, breaking is not about scoring goals. A b-boy wins by being more interesting to watch than his opponent, and the clothes they choose to wear have a huge impact on that. Yes, bright colors and interesting patterns can be eye-catching, but there’s more to it than that. Wearing contrasting colors on different parts of the body can make it easier for the audience’s eye to follow a dancer’s movements when they approach ludicrous speed. And the movement of their clothing adds to the overall picture the dancer paints, at times emphasizing, exaggerating, or even concealing their motions. The b-boys of Taiwan seem to understand this better than most.

B-boy Jasper breaking monitors

But what stood out even more than the differences were the things that were the same all over the world. One similarity that surprised me was the music. Of course it was all breakbeats, but that is a genre miles wide. It’s deceptively simple and incredibly versatile—add just enough drums to any catchy hook and you have a circle-shredding banger. I expected a little more diversity in the tunes, to hear samples from the many different musical heritages in all the host countries. Big bass drums from Brazil, sitar stings in India, or maybe some trumpet and violin samples in Mexico. But other than France’s fondness for funk, the records spun were surprisingly similar and betrayed no regional influences. By contrast, the DJs at the world finals tend to play beats from all over the globe, so I was surprised to hear so little variety. I’ve never had the privilege of DJing for a b-boy battle, so I wonder if there are unique considerations when selecting records for a competition as opposed to a cypher at a party or on the street.

Sadly, the other universal constant was the presence of toxic masculinity bullshit. Dancers being aggressive to the point of almost starting fights. While taunting and clowning one’s opponent has always been a part of breakdancing, there’s always at least one guy in the cypher who takes it way too far. A breaker in Poland performed a rude gesture where he put his hand in his opponent’s face, and of course they ended up bumping chests like a couple of silverbacks. In Kazakhstan, a competitor walked out into the middle of the dance floor during his opponent’s turn in an attempt to interfere and had to be ordered to step back. A contender in India opened his set by spitting at his opponent, which is disgusting on even more levels in a world recently ravaged by COVID. To his opponent’s credit, he took it remarkably well. He actually laughed, because he knew there was nothing that guy could do to win after that. 

I can’t really fathom the why of this particular brand of stupidity. Breaking isn’t like hockey, where there’s a subtle metagame to playing dirty enough to win, yet clean enough to avoid penalties. If you’re rude, aggressive and obnoxious about it—honestly, if you do anything other than dancing to win a breakdancing competition, you suck and nobody likes you. Not even the judges. All of the b-boys I mentioned performed otherwise admirable sets that had a chance to win if they hadn’t behaved so disgracefully, and each one was unanimously voted off. That brings hope for the future of the sport. Although the judges could do a better job of calling out when a contender is eliminated due to poor sportsmanship. Everyone, even the audience, should know when a competitor is disqualified rather than defeated by his opponent. It helps everyone learn the rules, and it will definitely discourage such behavior when b-boys know that acting like a jerk gets him an automatic loss, no matter how fly his moves may be.

Breaking is bigger than ever, and it looks like it’s going to get the time, attention, and energy it needs to continue to grow and evolve. I can’t wait to see all of the amazing things b-boys will do over the next fifty years. 

first!!!

My first post here. How exciting! Still has that new blog smell. Now that I’ve said that, I can’t help but wonder: what does the internet smell like? Not sure I want an answer.

That’s the kind of quality unstructured musing you can probably expect to be a regular thing here. I’ll also use this space to post my less polished thoughts on movies, video games, music, and writing. Maybe I’ll even provide updates and peeks behind the curtain as I develop new worlds and fill them with stories.

Actually, that can be the first one. I write most of my fiction by building the world and filling it with characters first. Then I follow them around to see which ones lead to the most interesting stories, and it’s rarely the characters that look the most like protagonists. Sweet Benny was originally made to be a minor comic relief role in another character’s story, but the brilliant con artist with terrible luck quickly hustled his way to top billing in my first novel. The legendary gunslinger Dodge Hardin began as just a supporting player in Benny’s story, before graduating to a novel of his own. And the character I’m writing about now, Marshal Galaxy, was initially conceived as a secondary villain to provide a narrative obstacle in another, admittedly less interesting, hero’s story.

In my experience, building the world first eventually makes it much easier to generate characters and storylines. Your mileage may vary, but if you’re suffering writer’s block or are just bored and want to try something new, give it a shot.