Discussion in 'Alternate History Maps and Graphics' started by Kanan, Jan 11, 2018.
So I'm guessing Melania's Austrian ITTL
Was there post-genocide Slovenian immigration to nations like Canada, New England and America?
Melania Knauss does not exist in this timeline.
Oh yes, of course. Most went to Canada and formed several farming communities in Athabasca and Saskatchewan, as well as migrating to New York City and Boston.
I sense bad times ahead for Austrian Slovenia. Maybe a violent independence movement and racism against slovakians.
Also, can't wait for your book, and maybe you could do something on my homeland of Israel? I'm curious, with it being fascist ITTL and all.
The only part of "Slovakia" as we know it that Austria owns is Pressburg, which is a majority German city. Only the hinterlands have Slovaks living in it.
The book is a history of New England, so Israel won't show up, most likely.
Oops, I meant slovenia.
I hope there's a New English spy movie ITTL called "Most Secret Eyes Only"
These Fair Shores
LAC DU PLACID, ADIRONDACK
“The sheer majesty of this wilderness is astounding! But there’s something… frightening in its grandness. The bleak splendors of these remote and lonely forests rather overwhelm me with my own sense of littleness. Its beauty is uplifting. But there seems to be another aspect of the wild: an indifference to human life, a merciless spirit of desolation takes no… no, wait… desolation which no man… which… which takes no… ok, what the hell does this say?” The growing chuckles around the room crescendoed into true laughter at this conclusion.
Exhaustion: it was in every muscle, every bone, every nerve in Arthur MacKenzie’s body. After boarding the midnight ferry from Brooklyn to Albany, which arrived at four, and after another two and a half hour drive north, the poor man had little more than ten minutes to rest before splashing water in his face, combing his hair, making a cup of coffee, and showing up promptly to the conference room of the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Lac du Placid. He may have been an actor, but not even he could pretend to feel rested.
“The line is ‘a merciless spirit of desolation which takes no note of man,’” a high-ranking crewmember which Arthur didn’t know explained, trying to hold back laughter himself.
“That’s not a sentence!” Arthur replied with false indignation.
The dying laughter increased again at this comeback.
In truth, the little grain of humor had released some of the heavy, exhausted atmosphere of the room. Everyone at the reading would have rather been in bed at this time. But Arthur had to admit that he was a little bit excited to finally get to read The Wendigo. He also had to admit that it was pretty good. Based on the novella by Algernon Blackwood, The Wendigo centered on a group of men hunting moose in the wilderness who found themselves hunted by the Wendigo, a cannibalistic creature from Algonquin folklore. The original story took place in northwestern Ontario at the start of the 20th century, but this adaptation shifted the location to central Adirondack, and did so without sacrificing the same feelings of isolation and hopelessness which were so prevalent in New England literature of that era anyways. Exploring the story through a different setting and a more historical lense made it feel more relevant. And the use of the terrifying, culturally alien creature as both a literal and a symbolic villain made it all the more impactful.
Arthur knew that none of this was coincidental. The film was written (and would be directed and produced) by his colleague and good friend, Joseph Forthright. Joseph had labored over it for three years, and it had been a labor of love. It was more than his brain child; he loved it like an actual child. Now that BBC New England had picked it up, it was finally being made, and Joe was ecstatic. He was also suffering from anxiety over it. He wanted every detail to be perfect, and was want to suffer from a panic attack whenever this didn’t occur. This left Arthur playing the placater a lot, and Arthur wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Arthur glanced around at his fellow actors. To his left was Harry Goldstein, a middle-aged Jewish actor, also a Brooklynite, who played Dr. Cathcart, an elderly Scottish psychologist who had written a book on Collective Hallucinations. Arthur himself played Cathcart’s nephew, a Scottish divinity student named Simpson, arguably the film’s lead. Arthur had been born and raised in central Connecticut, and spoke with a normal New England accent with slight Brooklyn overtones, but his own familial roots allowed him to do a very good Scottish accent.
Past Goldstein was Dannel Linch from the Vineyard, playing the part of Hank Davis, Dr. Cathcart’s guide. Arthur had worked with David a couple of times before, on some project or other; great guy, if maybe a little too talkative.
Beyond Dannel was Jean-Louis Benett, who played Joseph Défago, Simpson’s guide and a French Canuck. Although the character was Quebecois, Jean-Louis himself was actually an Acadian, hailing from northeast Vermont. Acadian actors, while not rare, were not very common either, and Jean-Louis’ performance at the reading was making it clear how good of a casting decision he was, so that Arthur was actually feeling slightly incompetent by comparison. Rumor had it that the Bennett family wasn’t too proud of their son, but Arthur was far too socially conscious to ask Jean about the story’s validity.
Finally, to Arthur’s right sat… nobody. Well, actually, a young blond woman was sitting on his right, reading the part of the one missing actor. The nametag read “Skenandoa Hensley,” and the person the tag referred to was meant to play the part of Punk, the “Indian” cook of the hunting party. In the original story, the portrayal of Punk wasn’t entirely racist per se, but it was a bit insensitive, and Arthur had been worried (terrified) that Joseph may not have fixed the issue. Fortunately, the character’s role in the story had been embiggened, and the character itself made far more appealing. Judging by his absence, though, Skenandoa may have had the same doubts as Arthur.
The laughter in the room was finally dying down. “Ok,” the crewmember who was clearly in charge said, taking a few deep breaths. “Ok, let’s go from, ‘But there seems to be…’”
Arthur knocked on Joseph’s hotel room door.
“If this is room service, alors vous devriez apprendre à lire un putain de signe ‘ne pas déranger’!”
“Be glad I’m not room service, or you would be bleeding to death right about now!”
The door opened. Joseph’s eyes immediately shot to the brown paper bag in Arthur’s hands. “For me?” he asked. Arthur nodded. “I don’t need your pity, Arthur,” he said. He glanced again. “What is it?”
“Bruegger’s,” Arthur replied.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Joseph said, grabbing the bag out of his hands and walking back to the desk. Arthur followed him, completely nonplussed: this was how Joseph got whenever he was stressed out. Which was always, now.
“Is it the BBC again?” Arthur asked.
“I just got off the phone with the executive dipshits in Boston. They’re pissing themselves about all the precious money I spent on holding the reading up here.”
Arthur smiled. “I can’t say I disagree with them entirely. The ferry ride wasn’t cool, Joseph.”
Joseph smiled back, a little apologetically. “Sorry about the commute. But it was important to have everyone up in Adirondack. I needed you all to… to feel it. To be surrounded by nature. It was necessary for the authenticity of it all.” He chuckled humorlessly. “But if I say as much to a Bostonian with a stick up his ass, he wonders what I’ve been smoking.”
“It might not be too late to get CBS New England to pick it up instead.”
Joseph snorted. “Absolutely not,” he said, “I’d much rather the BBC than them. At least the BBC can appreciate a tasteful horror movie. With CBS, I’d have to pack it full of jumpscares and gore just to keep the investors awake. Americans.”
“Americans,” Arthur agreed.
Joseph sighed. “Bostonians aren’t all bad, I suppose. My brother works for the government in Boston… but most of them are alright, I guess.”
Arthur laughed. “Tell that to Premier Bush.”
Now it was Joseph’s turn to laugh. The release of tension felt good. “How did the reading go? I was too busy with Mr. BBC.”
“It was good. Jean-Louis is amazing!”
“I know! I can’t believe I found him!”
“Skenandoa didn’t show, though.”
“What?” Joseph didn’t ask it. He said it.
“He didn’t come.”
Joseph looked like he was about to start twitching. “What the fuck?” he said. “What the actual fuck?!”
“Joseph, calm do-”
“Who the fuck does he think he is, missing the reading without even giving a reason?! Does he think I don’t have other actors who could take his place?! Why the…” he paused. “What day is it?”
“The twenty-fourth,” Arthur replied, confused.
“No, what day is it?”
Joseph nodded, looking past Arthur’s head, his eyes unfocused. “It’s First Nations Day,” he said.
Arthur sighed in understanding as Joseph, eyes closed, pinched the bridge of his nose with forefinger and thumb. Suddenly, Joseph pounded his fist once against the desk, hard. Then he breathed in deeply through his nose and exhaled slowly. “Ok,” he said resignedly. “Alright, I have a phone call to make, so…”
Arthur took that as his cue to leave. “I’ll get out of your hair,” he said. “I’ll see you later, ok?”
“Yeah, ok,” Joseph said wearily. “See you later.”
Arthur stopped in the doorway and turned to look back at his friend. Then he left Joseph to his work.
Random musing I’ve had: in the Wikipedia article, it lists Dan Brown as a contemporary New England author. It just occurred to me that the plot of The Da Vinci Code must be radically different ITTL. For those who have read the book, think about it:
Spoiler: The Da Vinci Code Spoilers
Robert Langdon, a professor of symbology at Harvard, is falsely accused of murder while in France, and ends up fleeing to Britain in Teabing’s private jet. Now, in our version of the book, Captain Fache alerts the British, who immediately begin to help with the search for Langdon, who is an American citizen. But ITTL, Langdon is a citizen of the Commonwealth, so I find it unlikely that the UK would be so willing to search for him to extradite him to France. If anything, he might actually seek asylum in Britain, to hopefully be extradited back to New England. This would alter the entire final third of the book at least.
What in hell’s name?
There's really not much more to it than that. It's just something I did fairly quick to just pull back the curtain ever so much on the German-Soviet War.
If the German Soviet War was from 1938 to 1947, then why does the above say 1988?
The 3 sure does look like an 8, but it is not. Here's the HQ version of the text page.
I see it now.
Could you give army sizes for both sides? Maybe population size at the time of the war for Germany, the USSR, and Poland?
Also, I know this may be asking for a bit much, but can you please listen to my proposal for a richer Nigeria?
Link me to it, I will review it.
its not mine, but I found it and like it
@Kanan It's neat that PR is much more fully integrated ITTL. I'm assuming that's the same Ricardo Rosseló that's the ex-Governor of PR IOTL and father of the current Governor of PR?
Separate names with a comma.