Steampunk fiction, reviews and interviews

Posts tagged “LARP

Steampunk Gypsies : Character Creation – Amelia Manylentils

Greetings! Here, as promised some time back now, is a careful look at how to respectfully draw on aspects of Rromani / Gypsy culture and history in order to construct a Steampunk character. I’ve used the word Gypsy in the title here because many people mistake the term Rromani for Romanian but most Rromani people find the term Gypsy offensive so it really is better not to use it. You wouldn’t use the N word to describe a person of African heritage would you? No.

Rromani people are a fairly visible part of the Steam Era, cropping up in folk tales, art, literature and ephemera of the time but our portrayal is usually colourful , romanticised, demonised and mis-representative of the reality of every day life for Rromani people living in Georgian and Victorian times. (I’ll write in more depth about this in a separate article).

But we can move on from the mistakes of the past and make sure that, by educating ourselves, we don’t repeat or perpetuate them when we write , create or cosplay in the Steampunk genre today 🙂

So here is how I used Rromani culture respectfully to influence the creation of one the the primary  characters here in Ire, Amelia Manylentils. If you have any questions about creating your own Rromani characters or other topics you want to me cover etc let me know in the comments as I’m happy to do more articles like this if folks find them useful.

 

Amelia Manylentils. 

Amelia is a Sho’vani character. I drew a fair bit on Rromani history and culture to create the Sho’vani people and so I have drawn on many aspects of Rromani culture to create the costume for Amelia.

The Sho’vani are a technologically advanced, displaced diaspora of the Jentacular Landmass. Their rebellion against Wiz and his evil army of Wizards went horribly wrong when the automaton army they had created rebelled against them and the twelve tribes, led by twelve princesses, fled across the sea to the scattered Isles Of Ire where they have been outrageously persecuted ever since.

Colonialism is an important and troubling part of our world history but so is the historical and current treatment of refugees and immigrants and I wanted to reflect this part of Rromani history in the history of the Sho’vani.

(For those of you who are unaware, the Rromani people are a displaced diaspora of India. Two groups of Rajputs were defeated by Muslim invaders and forced to flee their land. Some were captured by Turkish regiments and forced into their army, those who managed to escape into Eastern Europe were enslaved for hundreds of years. Those who fled to the west were feared, outlawed, imprisoned, murdered, not allowed to settle down , speak their own language, have children or own property. Many are still facing this persecution today. As soldiers and their entourage, they already had skills with metal work , horses and other crafts which they tried to use to earn money. When this wasn’t possible, they took on farm and manual work and also picked up skills such as entertaining and fortune telling along the way. )

Amelia’s Story:

Amelia’s Sho’vani father was ‘adopted’ (read: stolen) by a rich Tea Time Lord and his wife because they could have no children of their own and they thought it would be an amusing project to ‘tame’ a little wild woodling and make him into a proper Ire-ish Gentleman. They succeeded but when he grew to manhood he annoyed his parents by falling in love with and marrying  the local watch maker’s daughter who was also Sho’vani. That is as far as his rebellion went however and he inherited his father’s estate and treacle mine and settled into life as a Tea Time Lord. His wife, who had always hated her father’s business and had been only too eager to escape her fate of having to become a ‘filthy Tinker’ (her words) took to the lifestyle like butter to a crumpet. Unfortunately their daughter Amelia was different…

Love Triumphant: 

“Amelia? Amelia where are you this time?” Gerda Manylentils wrung her hands anxiously as she scoured the ornamental gardens in search of her daughter.

From high amongst the whispering leaves of the grandfather willow, Amelia watched her mother’s progress through the labyrinth of repressed shrubbery. Each leaf of the neatly maimed privet hedges lapped at her crinoline skirts, like the wax-bright tongues of crouching goblins, green and catching the last drips of evening light like drops of honey.

“Amelia?” Her voice was grey with the coming dusk and it weighed on her daughter’s ears with the same impending doom.

Amelia carefully placed her dolls into their little wicker basket and secured it firmly to the hawser. She wiped her grease-stained fingers on an oil cloth and brushed an arm across her cheek, swiping off a layer of sweat and grime. She took one last look around the treehouse. Every nut, bolt and screw, every spanner, saw and wrench was neatly stowed away in its own private apple crate. The leaves of the old man were fainting and pale, fluttering as the tree drew his deep, ragged breaths. She tied the straps of her leather cap under her chin, flicked her goggles down over her eyes and clipped her utility belt to the hawser behind the basket.

“Amelia? Oh!”

Amelia sailed over her mother’s head like a whistling stormcrow and landed, inelegantly, beside the koi pond. She teetered for a moment on the brink, before steadying herself and unclipping the harness and the basket.

Meanwhile, her mother was passing through her usual colour scheme of emotional meltdown; parchment fright, scarlet shock and finally, purple rage. “Amelia, how could you? How, simply, could you do this to me? You know perfectly well that Watkin Caffiendish and his parents, Lord and Lady Sugar of Crumbria are here! That is to say, were here – they are leaving, and, to be perfectly candid, I cannot say I blame them.” She twisted her plump fingers together in agitation. “Oh, Amelia! I am not sure which is worse; that you didn’t make an appearance, or that you could have done and this is what you are dressed like!” She gestured despairingly at her daughter’s patched and grease-stained overalls. “No, it is no good, Amelia, no good at all. Your father will demand an explanation. I demand an explanation! What have you been doing all this time? Where have you been? Not up in that tree again? Oh no!” Her glance strayed to the basket, now hooked over her daughter’s arm. “Not those awful dolls?”

“Mother, they are not dolls they…”

“They were once!” her mother screeched. “Perfectly beautiful porcelain dolls, Amelia, which your Aunt spent months crafting the petticoats for! Why you have to…fiddle with everything, I do not know.”

“It’s not ‘fiddling,’ Mother, it’s ‘tinkering’ and look,” Amelia reached inside the basket and pulled out one of the dolls. It certainly didn’t resemble any of the prim and pouting manikins which graced the little bay windows of the toy shops in town. Any clothes it had once possessed were nowhere to be seen, large portions of the porcelain had been carefully hacked away and replaced with metal screw-plates and the entire chin was now a hinged collaboration of metallic scraps.

“Oh no, please, do not wind it up! Amelia, my nerves! You know I cannot abide…”

Amelia ignored her mother’s pleas and wound the key which protruded from the back of the doll. The moment she released it, the doll’s mouth began to slowly open and close and sweet string music, almost akin to lark song, filled the blushing air.

“See, it sings. I made it sing. And this one…”

“Absolutely not! No more, Amelia, no more! This whole nonsense has gone on for long enough. A Lady should not spend her time fiddling about with things like this, she…”

“It’s not fiddling, Mother…”

“No, enough!” Gerda snatched the basket of dolls and hurled it into the koi pond, where, of course, it floated like an infant Egyptian prince.

Amelia stared at it in silence.

“This is the last straw, my girl. Go to your room and make yourself presentable, whilst I speak to your father about what, exactly, can be done about you.”

 

Amelia let her head fall back, cradled against the warm wood of the ancient rocking chair which had been her grandmother’s, then her mother’s and was now hers. Her legs pulsed her back and forth like a living piston, the cogs of her brain whirring furiously. Above her bed, Love Triumphant rose on flaming wings into the golden dawn of eternity from the brooding brushwork wrought by G.F.Watts. Amelia pressed her index fingers together and a single eyebrow arched. To have wings. To rise from the grim clutches of the mortal bind. The drudge of duty and a course mapped out by incompetent navigators who would never sail this ship themselves, never set foot in the harbour for which they would doggedly insist it must be bound.

She continued to pulse. Each foot thrust a pump for the adrenaline that was fuelling her mind.

Above her head, the many ceiling fans looked down on her with sympathy, as redundant in the chill evening as a tinker at a tea party. The tiny automatons, arranged in regiment across her eiderdown, sat dutifully silent and even the pot bellied wardrobe seemed to suppress a sigh, bearing its burden of corsets and crinolines with sombre resignation.

Amelia scowled at the painting and out of the broad sash window to where bats were now looping gleefully like liberated gloves cast up in celebration into the greening light.

To have wings…

Amelia leapt to her feet, pulled her folding utility knife from her belt and wrenched a spring steel crinoline from the closet. Her furnace lit by the fuel of epiphany, she snipped at the light metal bands with her cutting tools, skilfully subduing the writhing serpents as they sprung and snapped, unleashed from their structural bindings.

Soon a nest of steel lay heaped in one corner of the room and Amelia turned her attention to the sheets beneath the eiderdown. Out came rulers and angle measurers, scissors and chalk and several tools she had designed herself; a rotating rivet setter and a hand held clockwork seam-stitcher.

Before long, a bat-like pair of wings lay spanning almost the width of the entire room. Amelia cast a critical glance at the rocking chair, made a few last minute calculations and then proceeded to strap the wings to the wooden framework at the back of the chair, using leather trunk-straps which she kept in store beneath her bed for just such emergencies. The wings concertinaed in on themselves perfectly and she arranged more straps which would release them at the precise moment of take off.

Next she turned her attention to the ceiling fans, which came down easily via the maintenance pulley system. Each fan came off in piece and was swiftly re-bolted to the chair, along with the small turpentine motor which powered them.

From somewhere deep in the belly of old house, a servant’s bell sang out its dainty falsetto like a knell. With no time to waste admiring her handiwork, Amelia heaved the chair up to the window and hoisted up the sash with practised difficulty, securing it with the tiny cheese wedges of splintering wood.

The giddy scent of pine teased through the fresh night air; exhilarating, promising adventure as it filled her senses until every cell stung with the anxiety to snap this leash of obligatory life.

Amelia raised the rockers of the chair against the sill and guided, slided, eased it into a position of perfect balance. Her breath caught in her chest, her heart a rapid rhythm as she carefully negotiated her way into the seat, feet now the stabilising factor and one arm braced against the rotting window frame, whilst the other tugged the motor into life.

The pang of pine was now intoxicating.

“Hello?”

A shadow eclipsed the green. The bats fled, piping indignation.

The rocking chair teetered on the sill.

“I say, hello? Amelia?”

In a fulmination of fragrant annihilation, the chair staggered, slipped and spiralled down into the ravenous clutches of the psychotic shrubbery below and combusted, leaving Amelia dangling, dumb struck, from the cross bar of the sash.

“Oh dear. Er, terribly sorry about that. Hold on…”

The vivid lights, cast upward from the flaming shrubbery, illuminated the profile of a pathetically small dirigible, from which a rope was now being lowered. Amelia grasped the life line without hesitation and hauled herself up into the gondola which hung beneath.

“Grab an oar then.”

“Excuse me?” Amelia stared incredulously at the synergist of the Armageddon below, as silhouettes of servants began pouring from the house, to leap in frenzied state around the flaming privets like demons around a hell pyre. “Who even are you?”

“Watt.”

“I said who are you?”

“No, sorry, I mean I am. I am Watt. Watkin Caffiendish, er, knight in shining armour, come to rescue you and all that shenanigans. So, grab an oar, fair lady. She rows out like a dream in this weather.”

Amelia looked down, bitterly, at the wreckage of her marvelous machine, now being stoically dowsed by the household domesticons. Behind the dark shutters of the house, the hue and cry was already up.

She picked up an oar and, for one glorious moment, considered trouncing this ballooning buffoon around the head with it and pitching him over the side into the dark abyss that was soon to be her past.

The scent of smouldering turps was becoming acrid and adrenaline-fuelled ecstasy was fast waning to fatigue and resignation.

Sighing inwardly, she fitted the oar into the rowlock and began to pull.

 

….

Above is one of the many mythical re-tellings of Amelia’s early life and the beginning of her infamous voyage to discover Siberia but rather than begin a philosophical debate on that subject, let’s have a look at her costume…

 

 

Amelia is more interested in dressing practically rather than in a way that is perceived as ‘feminine’ (a taboo both in Upper Class Western and Rromani society of the Steam Era!) so I made her a pair of the classic wide legged trousers worn by our Kalderash men and waistcoat to match from heavily embroidered fabric.

Embroidery is of great cultural significance in Rromani culture and I still have a lot of my family’s embroidered pieces which I wouldn’t dare use for costuming! In Ire, one of the Sho’vani families play an important role in the revolution and they use a cog-based embroidery to code messages into clothing they are ‘mending’.

Amelia likes to keep her inventing equipment close to hand. Belly dancing belts stitched with coins are a mark of shame and anger for many women – not just Rromani. In days where women (and men) were seen as property which could be bought to entertain rich people with dancing and other ‘tricks’ , many people were forced to lay aside their religious beliefs about modesty and proper sexual conduct in order to survive. The passion in many Rromani dances is an expression of the anger felt by the slave dancers at being forced to act against Rromanipen (their beliefs) in order to entertain the rich. For Amelia’s costume I decided to take the belly dancing belt of coins and re-purpose / re-claim it as a tool belt  – a status-symbol for an independent young woman – so I have attached cogs and gears and similar things to the sash instead of coins.

steampunkrromani3

 

I chose red for the belt because it is a sacred protective colour in Rromani culture and a very feminine colour too. I hate the fact that femininity is often seen as inferior and that when women choose to pursue traditionally masculine careers they are somehow seen as being un-feminine. I wanted to wrap Amelia in her femininity – her inventing and creating are expressions of her womanhood, not a rebellion against that. By the end of our little saga here she is a wife, mother, grandmother, chrononaut and the greatest inventor the world has ever seen and none of these aspects of her character contradict or corrupt the others.

The cap and goggles are necessary for any wife and mother and are just my own everyday wear for nappy changes , cricket matches etc. but I love the black and white lace and pearls adding lots of magpie-pretty to these functional items.

So, there you have it; part one of creating an authentic Rromani Steampunk character. In the not too far future I’ll do a completely different character for you, based on the real historical Rromani poet Bronislawa Wajs. (Yep, we have poets!)

Until then, best wishes for all you splendid steampunk capers and I hope you’ll join the boys in the parlour tomorrow for some marvellous masquerade madness 😉

Penny 🙂

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Soup Of The Day: With Citadel Costumes

Hello! Mrs Albert Baker here, otherwise known as The Last Witch Of Pendle. Obviously there is no Pendle any more, since The Chronic Agronauts utterly destroyed it with treacle and sprats, but I’ve set myself up quite nicely here in Lancaster, running this little soup kitchen for the street urchins. There certainly are a lot of them and I’m always looking for helping hands to cook up and serve something delicious!

Helping me this morning is Sara, creator of the marvellous larp and steampunk clothing at Citadel Costumes. Good morning Sara, thank you so much for coming to help me in my soup kitchen today! Tell me, have you brought along some soup to share with us?

Yes, I have my favourite homemade tomato and red pepper soup. I made it by softening a large, diced brown onion in a knob of butter. When soft, add two diced red bell peppers and several different types of sliced fresh tomatoes. My favourites are vine tomatoes and baby plums, but you can use any you like. Then add enough vegetable stock to cover the ingredients, a little salt and pepper and simmer until the tomatoes have turned into a pulp. Whilst you are waiting for that to happen put two sweet pointed peppers on a baking tray, and drizzle in a little oil, pop them in the oven at about 200 degrees, and roast them until soft and the skin is slightly blackened, drop them whole into the soup and remove from the heat. Once the soup is cooled, blend it in the pan until smooth… you can add a little single cream or natural yoghurt to make it creamier if you wish

Mmm, it smells delicious, I’m sure the little urchins will enjoy it immensely. Now while that is simmering away nicely, why don’t we take a look at some of your lovely hats and costumes, I see you have you brought some along to show us today!

You certainly have a wide range of costumes, what inspires or influences you when you sit down to create a new costume?

It depends really, if it’s a costume from my own imagination, it can be something as simple as seeing an image or texture, I then start to think about how to translate that into fabric, which then develops into a whole character costume…If it’s for a client, generally I build on key aspects of their brief, and add my own creative spin to it. I love a challenge, so I always try to add something to the design, which will push me outside my comfort zone. Whether that’s a challenging pattern cut, or a difficult dye job, I think it adds something special to the piece, a kind of exclusivity if you will.

 Splendid! Do you usually have a particular character or setting in mind when you create each one?

Not always, but sometimes a whole costume will pop into my head; I’ll think “Sea Elf” and the whole thing will be there in colour and texture with accessories!  Other times I’ll get inspired by a fabric, like Chinese Brocade and a kimono with a bustle will pop into my head! I’ll start to make the piece and a character will form around it, I’ll begin to visualise other aspects of the costume, the accessories, hairstyle, mannerisms etc.

(this must sound mad! Hehe)

No, no my dear, that does not sound mad at all, unless, as they say, ‘We’re all mad around here’ … but tell me,  do you take part in live action role play yourself?

Yes, I’ve only been involved in it for a couple of years, but it’s an amazing hobby. I’ve always been a bit of a daydreamer and I love dressing up. The role play was challenging for me, I felt rather awkward the first few events I went to, but throwing yourself into the game and the character you’re portraying is the best way forward. It’s pure escapism for me, a way to get away from work/life stress and although I come home from events exhausted, in a way, I always feel recharged too

It sounds marvellous! You have a lovely range of costumes in your shop but if a customer wanted something special do you take custom orders?

Yes I’m happy to take commissions, I find some of my best work comes from other peoples briefs, even though I’m quite whimsical, I like having guidelines too, it helps me focus!

Oh lovely! Now I know I am just longing to get one of your lovely hats! Tell me, where can we find your work displayed, featured or for sale?

Currently, I only have my Etsy store for online purchases, you can find that here:

https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/CitadelCostumes

I’m also on Facebook, where you can see what I’ve been up to, recent makes, upcoming trading events etc, that’s here:

https://www.facebook.com/citadelcostumes

And, if any of our discerning Steampunk friends attended The Chepstow Steampunk market, in south wales on the 22nd of april I was there too and may be again in the future.

Now that is a curious thing as I think some friends of ours were there as well! Now then, as the kettle is singing, the all important question, on which the fate of the world may hang…  which is the brew that inspires you more when you are creating, coffee or tea?

Oooh both really!,  a good cup of coffee, with milk, is what gets me going in a morning, and a nice cup of tea in the afternoon to pick me up when I’m flagging!

Splendid, here you are then a nice cup of tea to usher in the afternoon!

Well thank you so much for coming to help out in the soup kitchen today, Sara, it’s been wonderful to chat with you and I must say that soup smells delicious. I think it must be about ready and the little urchins have their rosy noses pushed up against the glass in anticipation so shall we start dishing it up?

By all means

 

Lovely, thankyou all for joining us in the soup kitchen today, and I will see you again next week with another splendid steampunk guest,

Blessings on your brew my dears!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Soup Of The Day: With Steampunk Splendidness from Terrible Mischeif

Hello! Mrs Albert Baker here, otherwise known as The Last Witch Of Pendle. Obviously there is no Pendle any more, since The Chronic Agronauts utterly destroyed it with treacle and sprats, but I’ve set myself up quite nicely here in Lancaster, running this little soup kitchen for the street urchins. There certainly are a lot of them and I’m always looking for helping hands to cook up and serve something delicious!

Helping me this morning is Morrigan, creator of the amazing steampunk and cosplay accessories at Terrible Mischeif Studios. Good morning Morrigan, thank you so much for coming to help me in my soup kitchen today! Tell me, have you brought along some soup to share with us?

Why yes, of course I love potato soup the most at this time of year, it’s hearty and feeds a lot of your little urchins!

 

  • 1/2 cup chopped celery
  • 1/2 cup chopped onion
  • 1 cup chicken broth
  • 3-4 cups of peeled and cubed potatoes
  • 1 teaspoon dried parsley
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1 pinch ground black pepper
  • 2 teaspoons all-purpose flour
  • 1 1/2 cups milk
  • 1 cup chopped ham or turkey ham

 

  1. In a large stock pot add potatoes, celery, onion, chicken broth and parsley flakes. Season with salt and pepper and simmer until vegetables become tender.
  2. In a separate bowl mix flour and milk. Once it is well blended, add to soup mixture and cook until soup becomes thick.
  3. Stir in ham and simmer to desired consistancy!

 

Mmm, it smells delicious, I’m sure the little urchins will enjoy it immensely. Now while that is simmering away nicely, why don’t we take a look at some of your stunning creations, have you brought some along to show us today?

Of course, here are just a few examples of my work I specialise in metal wings and medals for airship pirates and captains of every stripe, but I also occasionally make jewelry, cosplay props, and art when the mood strikes me.

Your steampunk creations really are wonderful, what inspires you when you sit down to create each one?

I adore the creativity of the world of steampunk, so I try to imagine what someone who is a pirate, or an imperial merchant, or a wild free as the breeze captain might actually do in such a world of mayhem and machines, and I use bits and shinies to try and create something that that character might really wear in their everyday life, and then try to never make two pieces exactly alike so they an authenticity to them as a part of unique costume.  Of course putting on some of my favourite steampunk music from Professor Elemental, Abney Park, and Steampowered Giraffe really gets the creativity flowing!

Ah yes, my dear, I recognise some of those name as Max and Collin often have their Tesla Radio tuned in to your dimension when I visit The Parlour! Splendid! And where do you source all those amazing materials?

I try to use actual vintage clockworks and parts as much as possible, most of which I get from the Europe and also from a local clock repairman who has a shop two doors down from mine in Tacoma, which is a really lucky break for someone in my line of work!  Most of my centrepieces are just interesting things I collect up on my adventures in craft shops, bead stores, and reclaimed recycling places both on and offline, so I like to think of myself as a true scavenger!

How marvellous, you know I do think it is so important for a woman to be resourceful, especially when living in a post apocalyptic dystopia.  Tell me, do you take custom orders?

Most Definitely, I do try to find ways to make peoples experience with me a real positive interaction with a  a fellow cosplayer rather than a faceless business, so I try to accommodate in any way I can!

Wonderful! Now then, you also specialise in cosplay photography, would you like to tell us a bit about that?

I do, have actually been using photography as an art medium for several years, and I am expanding to include it in my geeky sphere as well.  Mostly because it seems that most professional photographers that are offering it are quite expensive, so I’m just trying to be a more affordable option!  Most of what I do however is professional editing of personal and candid photos people have of their cosplays, and  I offer that service at very affordable rates as well, as my way of supporting the cosplay community 🙂

That’s marvellous! And where else can we find your work displayed, featured or for sale?

We have a small etsy shop and a small brick and mortar shop in downtown Tacoma, as we sometimes frequent local shows and conventions, the info on all of our adventures can be found at our website www.terriblemischifstudios.com

Now I also hear that you are known as Captain Piper, would that be an airship you are captain of and if so do you ever use your creations to help you on your steampunk adventures?

Yes, I am officially known as Captain Aurelia Piper, I have a small independent trade ship the Mischief which I pilot around and sell my goodies,  I call it my little gypsy ship! Our little shop in Tacoma is actually decorated as a small airship to represent her , and I usually dress as Captain Piper for events, and of course I use my own goodies and props for my cosplays.

And finally, the all important question, on which the fate of the world may hang…  which is the brew that inspires you more when you are creating, coffee or tea? 

Quite important, surely, it is tea of course.  I prefer strong oriental spiced black teas myself, they keep me awake and sturdy at the helm on those long nights keeping guard against airship pirates!

Of course! Well thank you so much for coming to help out in the soup kitchen today, Morrigan, it’s been wonderful to chat with you and see all your beautiful creations! I must say that soup smells delicious. I think it must be about ready and the little urchins have their rosy noses pushed up against the glass in anticipation so shall we start dishing it up?

Of course, thank you so much for the opportunity to meet and learn from a magical creature such as, and to share my story, I do hope we can get together again soon!

Certainly! It would be a pleasure to see you again my dear, now we really must give the orphans their soup before The Good Folk start their patrol (if they find us serving home cooked soup instead of the regulation issue tinned variety, they will have our heads!) Thankyou all for joining us today and please come back next week when Nimue and Tom Brown, creators of Hopeless, Maine, will be stopping by with some rather sinister smelling stew to share with us, so, until then,

Blessings on your brew my dears!