We go behind the scenes with FCN Producciones, who transformed biblical storytelling through advanced character designer tools and 3D animation software.

Science & technology | ScrollytellingHow old are the Dead Sea Scrolls? An AI model can help Scientists are using it to estimate the age of ancient handwriting Sensitive subjectPhotograph: Israel Antiquities Authority/Shai Halevi Jun 5th 2025EVER SINCE the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered by Bedouin shepherds in the 1940s, debate has raged over their exact age. The scrolls, which contain the earliest surviving copies of books from the Hebrew Bible and other religious texts, mostly written in Aramaic and Hebrew, are thought to have been compiled sometime between 300BC and 200AD. Dating each of the 1,000-odd individual scrolls would help historians understand how literacy spread among ancient Jewish populations and the first Christians, and offer a valuable window into the genesis of the sacred texts. But scholars hoping to do so have had little but their own intuition to rely on.Explore moreThis article appeared in the Science & technology section of the print edition under the headline “Scrollytelling”From the June 7th 2025 editionDiscover stories from this section and more in the list of contents⇒Explore the editionReuse this content

Adapting the iconic, block-based design aesthetic of Mojang’s beloved Minecraft videogame into the hit feature film comedy adventure, The Minecraft Movie, posed an enormous number of hurdles for director Jared Hess and Oscar-winning Production VFX Supervisor Dan Lemmon. Tasked with helping translate the iconic pixelated world into something cinematically engaging, while remaining true to its visual DNA, was Wētā FX, who delivered 450 VFX shots on the film. And two of their key leads on the film were VFX Supervisor Sheldon Stopsack and Animation Supervisor Kevin Estey.  But the shot count merely scratches the surface of the extensive work the studio performed. Wētā led the design and creation of The Overworld, 64 unique terrains spanning deserts, lush forests, oceans, and mountain ranges, all combined into one continuous environment, assets that were also shared with Digital Domain for their work on the 3rd act battle. Wētā also handled extensive work on the lava-filled hellscape of The Nether that involved Unreal Engine for early representations used in previs, scene scouting, and onset during principal photography, before refining the environment during post-production. They also dressed The Nether with lava, fire, and torches, along with atmospherics and particulate like smoke, ash, and embers. But wait… there’s more! The studio’s Art Department, working closely with Hess, co-created the look and feel of all digital characters in the film. For Malgosha’s henchmen, the Piglins, Wētā designed and created 12 different variants, all with individual characteristics and personalities. They also designed sheep, bees, pandas, zombies, skeletons, and lovable wolf Dennis. Many of these characters were provided to other vendors for their work on the film. Needless to say, the studio truly became a “Master Builder” on the show. The film is based on the hugely popular game Minecraft, first released by Sweden’s Mojang Studios in 2011 and purchased by Microsoft for $2.5 billion in 2014, which immerses players in a low-res, pixelated “sandbox” simulation where they can use blocks to build entire worlds.  Here's the final trailer: In a far-ranging interview, Stopsack and Estey shared with AWN a peek into their creative process, from early design exploration to creation of an intricate practical cloak for Malgosha and the use of Unreal Engine for previs, postvis, and real-time onset visualization. Dan Sarto: The film is filled with distinct settings and characters sporting various “block” styled features. Can you share some of the work you did on the environments, character design, and character animation? Sheldon Stopsack: There's, there's so much to talk about and truth to be told, if you were to touch on everything, we would probably need to spend the whole day together.  Kevin Estey: Sheldon and I realized that when we talk about the film, either amongst ourselves or with someone else, we could just keep going, there are so many stories to tell. DS: Well, start with The Overworld and The Nether. How did the design process begin? What did you have to work with? SS: Visual effects is a tricky business, you know. It's always difficult. Always challenging. However, Minecraft stood out to us as not your usual quote unquote standard visual effects project, even though as you know, there is no standard visual effects project because they're all somehow different. They all come with their own creative ideas, inspirations, and challenges. But Minecraft, right from the get-go, was different, simply by the fact that when you first consider the idea of making such a live-action movie, you instantly ask yourself, “How do we make this work? How do we combine these two inherently very, very different but unique worlds?” That was everyone’s number one question. How do we land this? Where do we land this? And I don't think that any of us really had an answer, including our clients, Dan Lemmon [Production VFX Supervisor] and Jared Hess [the film’s director]. Everyone was really open for this journey. That's compelling for us, to get out of our comfort zone. It makes you nervous because there are no real obvious answers. KE: Early on, we seemed to thrive off these kinds of scary creative challenges. There were lots of question marks. We had many moments when we were trying to figure out character designs. We had a template from the game, but it was an incredibly vague, low-resolution template. And there were so many ways that we could go. But that design discovery throughout the project was really satisfying.  DS: Game adaptations are never simple. There usually isn’t much in the way of story. But with Minecraft, from a visual standpoint, how did you translate low res, block-styled characters into something entertaining that could sustain a 100-minute feature film? SS: Everything was a question mark. Using the lava that you see in The Nether as one example, we had beautiful concept art for all our environments, The Overworld and The Nether, but those concepts only really took you this far. They didn’t represent the block shapes or give you a clear answer of like how realistic some of those materials, shapes and structures would be. How organic would we go? All of this needed to be explored. For the lava, we had stylized concept pieces, with block shaped viscosity as it flowed down. But we spent months with our effects team, and Dan and Jared, just riffing on ideas. We came full circle, with the lava ending up being more realistic, a naturally viscous liquid based on real physics. And the same goes with the waterfall that you see in the Overworld.  The question is, how far do we take things into the true Minecraft representation of things? How much do we scale back a little bit and ground ourselves in reality, with effects we’re quite comfortable producing as a company? There's always a tradeoff to find that balance of how best to combine what’s been filmed, the practical sets and live-action performances, with effects. Where’s the sweet spot? What's the level of abstraction? What's honest to the game? As much as some call Minecraft a simple game, it isn't simple, right? It's incredibly complex. It's got a set of rules and logic to the world building process within the game that we had to learn, adapt, and honor in many ways. When our misfits first arrive and we have these big vistas and establishing shots, when you really look at it, you, you recognize a lot of the things that we tried to adapt from the game. There are different biomes, like the Badlands, which is very sand stoney; there's the Woodlands, which is a lush environment with cherry blossom trees; you’ve got the snow biome with big mountains in the background. Our intent was to honor the game. KE: I took a big cue from a lot of the early designs, and particularly the approach that Jared liked for the characters and to the design in general, which was maintaining the stylized, blocky aesthetic, but covering them in realistic flesh, fur, things that were going to make them appear as real as possible despite the absolutely unreal designs of their bodies. And so essentially, it was squared skeleton… squarish bones with flesh and realistic fur laid over top. We tried various things, all extremely stylized. The Creepers are a good example. We tried all kinds of ways for them to explode. Sheldon found a great reference for a cat coughing up a hairball. He was nice to censor the worst part of it, but those undulations in the chest and ribcage… Jared spoke of the Creepers being basically tragic characters that only wanted to be loved, to just be close to you. But sadly, whenever they did, they’d explode. So, we experimented with a lot of different motions of how they’d explode. DS: Talk about the process of determining how these characters would move. None seem to have remotely realistic proportions in their limbs, bodies, or head size. KE: There were a couple things that Jared always seemed to be chasing. One was just something that would make him laugh. Of course, it had to sit within the bounds of how a zombie might move, or a skeleton might move, as we were interpreting the game. But the main thing was just, was it fun and funny? I still remember one of the earliest gags they came up with in mocap sessions, even before I even joined the show, was how the zombies get up after they fall over. It was sort of like a tripod, where its face and feet were planted and its butt shoots up in the air. After a lot of experimentation, we came up with basic personality types for each character. There were 12 different types of Piglins. The zombies were essentially like you're coming home from the pub after a few too many pints and you're just trying to get in the door, but you can't find your keys. Loose, slightly inebriated movement. The best movement we found for the skeletons was essentially like an old man with rigid limbs and lack of ligaments that was chasing kids off his lawn. And so, we created this kind of bible of performance types that really helped guide performers on the mocap stage and animators later on. SS: A lot of our exploration didn’t stick. But Jared was the expert in all of this. He always came up with some quirky last-minute idea.  KE: My favorite from Jared came in the middle of one mocap shoot. He walked up to me and said he had this stupid idea. I said OK, go on. He said, what if Malgosha had these two little pigs next to her, like Catholic alter boys [the thurifers], swinging incense [a thurible]. Can we do that? I talked to our stage manager, and we quickly put together a temporary prop for the incense burners. And we got two performers who just stood there. What are they going to do? Jared said, “Nothing. Just stand there and swing. I think it would look funny.” So, that’s what we did.  We dubbed them the Priesty Boys. And they are there throughout the film. That was amazing about Jared. He was always like, let's just try it, see if it works. Otherwise ditch it. DS: Tell me about your work on Malgosha. And I also want to discuss your use of Unreal Engine and the previs and postvis work.  SS: For Malgosha as a character, our art department did a phenomenal job finding the character design at the concept phase. But it was a collective effort. So many contributors were involved in her making. And I'm not just talking about the digital artists here on our side. It was a joint venture of different people having different explorations and experiments. It started off with the concept work as a foundation, which we mocked up with 3D sketches before building a model. But with Malgosha, we also had the costume department on the production side building this elaborate cloak. Remember, that cloak kind of makes 80, 85% of her appearance. It's almost like a character in itself, the way we utilized it. And the costume department built this beautiful, elaborate, incredibly intricate, practical version of it that we intended to use on set for the performer to wear. It ended up being too impractical because it was too heavy. But it was beautiful. So, while we didn't really use it on set, it gave us something physically to kind of incorporate into our digital version. KE: Alan Henry is the motion performer who portrayed her on set and on the mocap stage. I've known him for close to 15 years. I started working with him on The Hobbit films. He was a stunt performer who eventually rolled into doing motion capture with us on The Hobbit. He’s an incredible actor and absolutely hilarious and can adapt to any sort of situation. He’s so improvisational. He came up with an approach to Malgosha very quickly. Added a limp so that she felt decrepit, leaning on the staff, adding her other arm as kind of like a gimp arm that she would point and gesture with.   Even though she’s a blocky character, her anatomy is very much a biped, with rounder limbs than the other Piglins. She's got hooves, is somewhat squarish, and her much more bulky mass in the middle was easier to manipulate and move around. Because she would have to battle with Steve in the end, she had to have a level of agility that even some of the Piglins didn't have. DS: Did Unreal Engine come into play with her?  SS: Unreal was used all the way through the project. Dan Lemmon and his team early on set up their own virtual art department to build representations of the Overworld and the Nether within the context of Unreal. We and Sony Imageworks tried to provide recreations of these environments that were then used within Unreal to previsualize what was happening on set during shooting of principal photography. And that's where our mocap and on-set teams were coming into play. Effects provided what we called the Nudge Cam. It was a system to do real-time tracking using a stereo pair of Basler computer vision cameras that were mounted onto the sides of the principal camera. We provided the live tracking that was then composited in real time with the Unreal Engine content that all the vendors had provided. It was a great way of utilizing Unreal to give the camera operators or DOP, even Jared, a good sense of what we would actually shoot. It gave everyone a little bit of context for the look and feel of what you could actually expect from these scenes.  Because we started this journey with Unreal having onset in mind, we internally decided, look, let's take this further. Let's take this into post-production as well. What would it take to utilize Unreal for shot creation? And it was really exclusively used on the Nether environment. I don’t want to say we used it for matte painting replacement. We used it more for say, let's build this extended environment in Unreal. Not only use it as a render engine with this reasonably fast turnaround but also use it for what it's good at: authoring things, quickly changing things, moving columns around, manipulating things, dressing them, lighting them, and rendering them. It became sort of a tool that we used in place of a traditional matte painting for the extended environments. KE: Another thing worth mentioning is we were able to utilize it on our mocap stage as well during the two-week shoot with Jared and crew. When we shoot on the mocap stage, we get a very simple sort of gray shaded diagnostic grid. You have your single-color characters that sometimes are textured, but they’re fairly simple without any context of environment. Our special projects team was able to port what we usually see in Giant, the software we use on the mocap stage, into Unreal, which gave us these beautifully lit environments with interactive fire and atmosphere. And Jared and the team could see their movie for the first time in a rough, but still very beautiful rough state. That was invaluable. DS: If you had to key on anything, what would say with the biggest challenges for your teams on the film? You're laughing. I can hear you thinking, “Do we have an hour?”  KE: Where do you begin?  SS: Exactly. It's so hard to really single one out. And I struggle with that question every time I've been asked that question. KE: I’ll start.  I've got a very simple practical answer and then a larger one, something that was new to us, kind of similar to what we were just talking about. The simple practical one is the Piglins square feet with no ankles. It was very tough to make them walk realistically. Think of the leg of a chair. How do you make that roll and bank and bend because there is no joint? There are a lot of Piglins walking on surfaces and it was a very difficult conundrum to solve. It took a lot of hard work from our motion edit team and our animation team to get those things walking realistically. You know, it’s doing that simple thing that you don't usually pay attention to. So that was one reasonably big challenge that is often literally buried in the shadows. The bigger one was something that was new to me. We often do a lot of our previs and postvis in-house and then finish the shots. And just because of circumstances and capacity, we did the postvis for the entire final battle, but we ended up sharing the sequence with Digital Domain, who did an amazing job completing some of the stuff on the Battlefield we did post on. For me personally, I've never experienced not finishing what I started. But it was also really rewarding to see how well the work we had put in was honored by DD when they took it over.   SS: I think the biggest challenge and the biggest achievement that I'm most proud of is really ending up with something that was well received by the wider audience. Of creating these two worlds, this sort of abstract adaptation of the Minecraft game and combining it with live-action. That was the achievement for me. That was the biggest challenge. We were all nervous from day one. And we continued to be nervous up until the day the movie came out. None of us really knew how it ultimately would be received. The fact that it came together and was so well received is a testament to everyone doing a fantastic job. And that's what I'm incredibly proud of. Dan Sarto is Publisher and Editor-in-Chief of Animation World Network.

It’s a provocative idea: that empathy — that is, putting yourself in another person’s proverbial shoes, and feeling what they feel — is a sin. The Bible contains repeated invocations from Jesus to show deep empathy and compassion for others, including complete strangers. He’s very clear on this point. Moreover, Christianity is built around a fundamental act of empathy so radical — Jesus dying for our sins — that it’s difficult to spin as harmful. Yet as stunning as it may sound, “empathy is a sin” is a claim that’s been growing in recent years across the Christian right. It was first articulated six years ago by controversial pastor and theologian Joe Rigney, now author of the recently published book, The Sin of Empathy, which has drawn plenty of debate among religious commentators. In this construction, empathy is a cudgel that progressives and liberals use to berate and/or guilt-trip Christians into showing empathy to the “wrong” people. Had it stayed within the realm of far-right evangelicals, we likely wouldn’t be discussing this strange view of empathy at all. Yet we are living in an age when the Christian right has gained unprecedented power, both sociocultural and political. The increasing overlap between conservative culture and right-leaning tech spaces means that many disparate public figures are all drinking from the same well of ideas — and so a broader, secular version of the belief that empathy is a tool of manipulation has bubbled into the mainstream through influential figures like Elon Musk.What “empathy is a sin” actually meansThe proposition that too much empathy is a bad thing is far from an idea that belongs to the right. On Reddit, which tends to be relatively left-wing, one popular mantra is that you can’t set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm. That is, too much empathy for someone else can erode your own sense of self, leaving you codependent or open to emotional abuse and manipulation. That’s a pretty standard part of most relationship and self-help advice — even from some Christian advice authors. But in recent months, the idea that empathy is inherently destructive has not only become a major source of debate among Christians, it’s escaped containment and barreled into the mainstream by way of major media outlets, political figures, and influencers.The conversation began with an incendiary 2019 essay by Rigney, then a longtime teacher and pastor at a Baptist seminary, in which he introduced “the enticing sin of empathy” and argued that Satan manipulates people through the intense cultural pressure to feel others’ pain and suffering. Rigney’s ideas were met with ideological pushback, with one Christian blogger saying it “may be the most unwise piece of pastoral theology I’ve seen in my lifetime.” As his essay incited national debate, Rigney himself grew more controversial, facing allegations of dismissing women and telling one now-former Black congregant at his Minneapolis church that “it wouldn’t be sinful for him to own me & my family today.” (In an email to Vox, Rigney denied the congregant’s version of events.) Rigney also has a longtime affiliation with Doug Wilson, the leader of the Reformed Christian Christ Church in Moscow, Idaho. In practice, what Rigney is typically decrying is any empathy for a liberal perspective or for someone who’s part of a marginalized community.Now well-known for spreading Christian nationalism, and for allegedly fostering a culture of abuse (allegations he has denied), Wilson’s infamy also comes from his co-authored 1996 essay “Southern Slavery: As It Was,” in which he claimed that “Slavery produced in the South a genuine affection between the races that we believe we can say has never existed in any nation before the War or since.” (“My defense of the South does not make me a racist,” Wilson said in 2003.) Rigney appeared on Wilson’s 2019 podcast series Man Rampant to discuss empathy; their conversation quickly devolved into decrying fake rape allegations and musing that victims of police violence might have “deserved to be shot.” In an email, Rigney told me that both he and Wilson developed their similar views on empathy from the therapist and Rabbi Edwin Friedman, whose posthumously published 1999 book, A Failure of Nerve: Leadership in the Age of the Quick Fix, has influenced not only family therapy but conservative church leadership and thought. In the book, Friedman argues that American society has devalued the self, leading to an emotional regression and a “low pain threshold.” Alongside this he compares “political correctness” to the Inquisition, and frames a “chronically anxious America” as one that is “organize[d] around its most dysfunctional elements,” in which leaders have difficulty making tough decisions. This correlation of emotional weakness with societal excess paved the way for Rigney to frame empathy itself as a dangerous weapon. Despite using the incendiary generalization, “empathy is sin,” Rigney told me that it is not all empathy that is sinful, but specifically “untethered empathy.” He describes this as “empathy that is detached or unmoored from reality, from what is good and right.” (An explanation that begs definitions for “reality,” “good,” and “right.”)“Just as ‘the sin of anger’ refers to unrighteous or ungoverned anger, so the sin of empathy refers to ungoverned, excessive, and untethered empathy,” Rigney told me. This kind of unrestrained empathy, he writes, is a recipe for cultural mayhem. In theory, Rigney argues that one should be “tethered” to God’s will and not to Satan. In practice, what Rigney is typically decrying is any empathy for a liberal perspective or for someone who’s part of a marginalized community. When I asked him for a general reconciliation of his views with the Golden Rule, he sent me a response in which he brought up trans identity in order to label it a “fantasy” that contradicts “God-given biological reality,” while misgendering a hypothetical trans person. The demonization of empathy moves into the mainstreamDespite receiving firm pushback from most religious leaders (and indeed most people) who hear about it, Rigney’s argument has been spreading through the Christian right at large. Last year, conservative personality and author Allie Stuckey published Toxic Empathy: How Progressives Exploit Christian Compassion, in which she argues that “toxic empathy is a dangerous guide for our decisions, behavior, and public policy” while condemning queer people and feminists. “Empathy almost needs to be struck from the Christian vocabulary,” Josh McPherson, host of the Christian-centered Stronger Man Nation podcast and an adherent of Wilson and Rigney’s ideas, said in January, in a clip that garnered an outsize amount of attention relative to the podcast episode itself. That same month, Vice President JD Vance struck a nerve with a controversial appearance on Fox News in which he seemed to reference both the empathy conversation and the archaic Catholic concept of “ordo amoris,” meaning “the order of love.” As Vance put it, it’s the idea that one’s family should come before anyone else: “You love your family, and then you love your neighbor, and then you love your community, and then you love your fellow citizens in your own country,” he said. “And then after that, you can focus and prioritize the rest of the world.” In a follow-up on X, he posted, “the idea that there isn’t a hierarchy of obligations violates basic common sense.” Vance’s statements received backlash from many people, including both the late Pope Francis and then-future Pope Leo XIV — but the controversy just drove the idea further into the mainstream. As part of the odd crossover between far-right religion and online reactionaries, it picked up surprising alliances along the way, including evolutionary biologist turned far-right gadfly Gad Saad. In January, Saad, applying a survival-of-the-fittest approach to our emotions, argued against “suicidal empathy,” which he described as “the inability to implement optimal decisions when our emotional system is tricked into an orgiastic hyperactive form of empathy, deployed on the wrong targets.” (Who are the wrong targets according to Saad? Trans women and immigrants.)In a February appearance on Joe Rogan’s podcast, Elon Musk explicitly referenced Saad but went even further, stating, “The fundamental weakness of Western civilization is empathy — the empathy exploit. They’re exploiting a bug in Western civilization” — the “they” here being the left wing. “I think empathy is good,” Musk added, “but you need to think it through, and not just be programmed like a robot.” By March, mainstream media had noticed the conversation. David French had observed the “strange spectacle” of the Christian turn against empathy in a column for the New York Times. In April, a deep-dive in the Guardian followed. That same month, a broad-ranging conversation in the New Yorker with Albert Mohler, president of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, led to interviewer Isaac Chotiner pressing him about why empathy is bad. The discussion, of deported Venezuelan immigrants wrongfully suspected of having gang tattoos, led to Mohler saying that “there’s no reason anyone other than a gang member should have that tattoo.” (Among the tattoos wrongly flagged as gang symbols were the words “Mom” and “Dad” on the wrists of one detainee.)The pro-empathy backlash is fierce The connective tissue across all these disparate anti-empathy voices is two-fold, according to Christian scholar Karen Swallow Prior. Prior, an anti-abortion ethicist and former longtime Liberty University professor, singled out the argument’s outsize emphasis on attacking very small, very vulnerable groups — as well as the moment in which it’s all happening.“The entire discourse around empathy is backlash against those who are questioning the authority of those in power,” she told me, “not coincidentally emerging in a period where we have a rise in recognition of overly controlling and narcissistic leaders, both in and outside the church.” Those people “understand and appreciate empathy the least.”“Trump made it okay to not be okay with culture,” Peter Bell, co-creator and producer of the Sons of Patriarchy podcast, which explores longstanding allegations of emotional and sexual abuse against Doug Wilson’s Christ Church, told me. (Wilson has denied that the church has a culture of abuse or coercion.) “He made it kind of cool for Christians to be jerks,” Bell said. “He made the unspoken things spoken, the whispered things shouted out loud.”Prior believes that the argument won’t have a long shelf life because Rigney’s idea is so convoluted. Yet she added that it’s born out of toxic masculinity, in an age where stoicism, traditionally male-coded, is increasingly part of the regular cultural diet of men via figures like Jordan Peterson. That hypermasculinity goes hand in hand with evangelical culture, and with the ideas Rigney borrowed from Friedman about too many emotions being a weakness. In this framing, emotion becomes non-masculine by default — i.e., feminine.“Everybody’s supposed to have sympathy for the white male, but when you show empathy to anyone else, suddenly empathy is a sin.”— Karen Swallow Prior, Christian scholarThat leads us to the grimmest part of Rigney’s “untethered empathy” claims: the way he explicitly genders it — and demonizes it — as feminine. Throughout his book, he argues that women are more empathetic than men, and that as a result, they are more prone to giving into it as a sin. It’s an inherently misogynistic view that undermines women’s decision-making and leadership abilities. Though Rigney pushed back against this characterization in an email to me, arguing that critics have distorted what he views as merely “gendered tendencies and susceptibility to particular temptations,” he also couldn’t help reinforcing it. “[F]emale tendencies, like male tendencies, have particular dangers, temptations, and weaknesses,” he wrote. Women thus should recognize this and “take deliberate, Spirit-wrought action to resist the impulse to become a devouring HR department that wants to run the world.”As Prior explains, though, Rigney’s just fine with a mythic national human resources department, as long as it supports the status quo. “Everybody’s supposed to have sympathy for the white male,” she said, “but when you show empathy to anyone else, suddenly empathy is a sin.”What’s heartening is that, whether they realize what kind of dangerous extremism undergirds it, most people aren’t buying Rigney’s “empathy is sin” claim. Across the nation, in response to Rigney’s assertion, the catchphrase, “If empathy is a sin, then sin boldly” has arisen, as heard in pulpits, seen on church marquees, and worn on T-shirts — a reminder that it takes much more than the semantic whims of a few extremists to shake something most people hold in their hearts.See More:

Peter Molyneux on Masters of Albion progress and the influence of Fable on his new game GamesIndustry.biz catches up with the creator of Fable and Black & White at Nordic Game 2025 Image credit: 22cans Feature by Samuel Roberts Editorial Director Published on May 22, 2025 Peter Molyneux was typically charming and emotional during his fireside chat at Nordic Game 2025 in Malmö this week, discussing his past work at the studios Bullfrog, Lionhead, and even the legendary doomed Kinect project Milo and Kate. Molyneux is a complicated figure for some (in games media circles, that's certainly the case), but the response in the room was incredibly warm. There is perhaps an understanding from the creator of Dungeon Keeper and Fable that the game has to do the talking this time. That said, as usual, Molyneux couldn't hide his excitement for what's coming next. Following last year's in-depth chat about upcoming god game Masters of Albion, as well as his negative experiences with the press, GamesIndustry.biz caught up with Molyneux about how development on the game is progressing ahead of his talk. This interview has been edited for brevity and clarity. How is Masters of Albion going? I've got to say this, but it's going to get me in trouble: every atom of my being believes we're making a great game. I bullied, persuaded, and blackmailed a lot of the old people that I worked with, like Russell Shaw, Mark Healey and Ian Wright, Kareem Ettouney, to come back and do one last gig. And it's incredible. There is a magic that we used to have, when we created Dungeon Keeper and Black and White and Fable, and that magic was completely intangible. It's not something you can produce. But it really feels that magic is back. And I'm not saying that to you to hype the game – I'm only saying so you get a perspective of how I'm feeling about the game. It should be impossible to make this game. It's all about player freedom, it's all about asking ourselves what a god game is, what it should be, and what it should stand for. But: it's f*cking working. It's coming together. If you can play the game, it is something that in my mind, feels – and again, these are words that play out in my mind, this is not me hyping the title – but it feels fresh, and different, and new, and it feels, above all, insanely brave. It's exactly what I wanted it to be: it's a marriage of Dungeon Keeper, and Black & White, and Fable, and it's all [of] that put together. And how the hell does that work? It's only now, really, in the last year, that I've dared to hope that this weird mixture of game mechanics can actually blend into something unique and different. When you're working again with all these previous collaborators, does it feel like it used to, or with time and experience, does the dynamic feel a little bit different? There is this trust. There is this overwhelming trust that you have. I'm not telling Mark [Healey] what to do; you don't tell Mark what to do, he is a genius. You just show him, and he does the rest. I don't say, 'we should have this type of music, or we should have these sound effects' with Russell Shaw; he just takes what I make and he adds his genius to it. And that dynamic, I didn't dare hope would work again, but it is working. We've got 24 people, because I love working with small teams. Then to work with other people on the team that I've worked with for ten years, to see them embrace this thing that we're creating, is just wonderful. I'm working harder now than I worked in my twenties. Every moment of every day is spent on the game, and thinking about it. But that sort of focus is what you need. Image credit: 22cans How does it feel to be in the weeds of designing a game now versus 20 or 30 years ago? It's funny you should ask that question, because there is this realisation that I had a while back. Journalists always ask me, 'you're working on an RTS one minute, you're working on a god game another minute, you're working on a roleplaying [game] another minute, where's the consistency?' I think I've realised that the consistency is the experience that the player has. What we're really trying to do is create an experience. And for me, that started back when we created a game called Magic Carpet, years and years ago. Let me give you an example of what I mean by an experience. At that time in the industry, Doom and Quake and Wolfenstein were around, and we had that tech to do an indoor shooter just like those. And we would've made a shitload of money, and maybe even created a franchise. But instead, my bastard and half-insane mind said, 'no. Let's not do that. Wouldn't it be fantastically cool to experience flying? Like, flying on a magic carpet? Okay, you shoot things, but [while] flying on a magic carpet.' That's when I first realised, I think, that for me as a designer, it's more about the player's experience than it is about the mechanics. Traditionally, if you're making an RTS game, the first thing you do as a designer is you write down all your units, work out your attack skills, and you have your design bible, and you give that to the programming team. That's not the way we approach it, and that's definitely not the way we approached it with Masters [of Albion], and we didn't approach it [that way] with Fable, or Black & White, or any of those games. So, the short answer to your question is, it feels so familiar to the way we used to work, and that is stumbling through the darkness looking for the daylight as you're developing the game. Trying things out, throwing things away, obsessing. Going, 'that's the heart of the game; no, actually that isn't the heart of the game, let's throw that away'. So in that sense it's incredibly familiar. It's very, very chaotic. Those people that we do employ who have worked elsewhere, after they've been working with us for a week, just look defeated. 'Tell me what to do, and I'll do it really well.' You miss the point: it's not what to do, it's how we embrace what [comes from that process]. You're launching the game in Early Access. How does the process of building a roadmap look for you, when you're very conscious of not overpromising? I think the real time for a roadmap is when you're in Early Access. I'm never going to lose this creative friction that happens, but if you've got a live product, and we have experience of this now, because we still have two live-service products [at 22cans] – Godus and Betrayal, which are both very successful. You can think creatively, and you absolutely should think creatively, but you've got to be a little bit more predictable, because you're no longer just throwing a schedule away, you're throwing away what people are anticipating. So I think the time for a roadmap, the time to be predictive about what we're releasing and share that with the community, that's soon coming up. The Dungeon Keeper and Black & White influences on Masters of Albion are really clear. Can you talk more about how the Fable influence manifests in the game? The way I think of it is like making a soup. I can put potatoes in, and I can put leeks in – and it's going to be a leek and potato soup. Then I can put strange other ingredients in, and it tastes like nothing I've ever tasted before. That's how I think about Masters of Albion. We have got bits from Dungeon Keeper; there's a core mechanic in the game that's absolutely inspired by Dungeon Keeper. We've got very visible things from Black & White, like the hand and reaching into the world, and this godlike feeling, caring for things and nurturing things, absolutely from Black & White. But Fable: that's where the main focus comes from, because the entire narrative, the entire world, the openness of the world, the freedom which Fable gave you as a player, absolutely is embraced [here fully]. We've just done some user tests – I shouldn't say any of this stuff – using a company over in America. And the first thing that came back is, 'oh my god, I'm playing Fable.' That was such a wonderful moment for me. That's what they said when they first started playing it. And then they said, 'no no, it doesn't remind me of Fable, it reminds me of Black & White.' It is a blend, but that blend, just like that soup analogy, is something new, fresh and different. GamesIndustry.biz is a media partner for Nordic Game 2025. Travel and accommodation were covered by the organisers.

Back in 2010, when Cartoon Network first announced its plan to reboot the beloved 1985 animated TV series Thundercats, the first thought that went through my mind was, “That’s great! Do Blackstar next!” In 2014, when Boat Rocker Media announced its reboot of 1981’s Danger Mouse, same thing: “Huh, interesting, but do Blackstar next.” 2016’s Disney reveal about its reboot of 1987’s Duck Tales? “Rad. But… Blackstar?” And so it went, year after year, with the announcements about 2018’s Netflix reboot of She-Ra: Princess of Power, 2021’s He-Man reboot Masters of the Universe: Revelation, the CG version of Inspector Gadget, the American Voltron update Voltron: Legendary Defender, half a dozen new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Transformers projects, a little-loved second Thundercats series, and every single Smurfs movie. I get it — the kids of the ’80s are producers and writers and showrunners now, with enough clout to get their childhood memories turned into new shows. But apparently none of them watched Blackstar, easily one of the coolest animated series of the 1980s, built around the coolest sword. There’s a direct genetic line between the success of 1977’s Star Wars and the wave of space-set, fantasy-themed Saturday morning cartoons that closely followed. Star Wars beget ABC’s popular Thundarr the Barbarian, a post-apocalyptic dystopian-future fantasy about a muscular hero who fought oppressive magical villains while wearing a fur skirt, hanging out with a leotard-clad sorceress, and more or less carrying a lightsaber and traveling with a Wookiee. Thundarr helped inspire Blackstar, CBS’ equivalent show, about a muscular hero who fought oppressive magical villains while wearing a fur skirt, hanging out with a leotard-clad sorceress, and carrying his own form of laser sword. (No Wookiee, though — instead, series hero Blackstar got to ride a dragon.) Both shows were on the leading edge of the post-Star Wars dark fantasy wave, leading to movies like Excalibur, Conan the Barbarian, and Dragonslayer. But unlike most of those ’80s fantasies — Flash Gordon aside — Thundarr and Blackstar kept a foot in Star Wars’ science fiction roots, hanging onto the idea of worlds where technology and mysticism met and clashed. Thundarr was more popular, but Blackstar was more compelling: a weirder, darker, richer world with a lot more going on, and a much more imaginative sword that wasn’t just a lightly reskinned lightsaber. Though the show only managed a single season and 13 episodes (compared with Thundarr’s two-year, 21-episode stint), Blackstar’s potential still sticks with me decades later. The story in brief: An astronaut from a future Earth, John Blackstar, enters a black hole in his experimental timeship, and winds up trapped on an ancient alien world, full of magic and monsters. (It’s essentially an isekai series, decades before isekai was the hottest trend in anime and manga.) The local Sauron equivalent, the Overlord, dominates the planet Sagar with an artifact called the Powerstar, a huge two-handed crystalline energy sword. Somehow, the Powerstar gets broken into identical halves, producing two badass weapons: the Power Sword, which the Overlord still holds, and the Star Sword, which falls into Blackstar’s hands. Blackstar winds up as the figurehead in a growing rebellion against the Overlord’s. Meanwhile, the Overlord wants not just to squash this budding rebellion, but to reclaim the Star Sword and take up the Powerstar again. In a series of interviews for Blackstar’s 2006 DVD release, the creators and writers cop to some of their influences in writing the show: The protagonist is a little bit John Carter of Mars (the original Edgar Rice Burroughs version, not the 2012 fantasy-movie version) and a little bit Flash Gordon, though he also closely resembles the protagonist of the 1979 live-action series Buck Rogers in the 25th Century. The Trobbits — tiny comedy-relief people who find and rescue Blackstar after his timeship crashes — take a little inspiration from J.R.R. Tolkien’s hobbits, and a lot more from Disney’s seven dwarfs, complete with the “one personality trait apiece” dynamic, and a youngest member who never speaks. (There are also seven of them.)  The Overlord is somewhere between Darth Vader and Ming the Merciless, while Blackstar’s sorceress companion, Mara, is basically just a reskin of Thundarr’s Princess Ariel, with very similar powers, a similar elegant, educated personality and role as party historian, and similar obvious crush on the oblivious hero. Although these characters rarely feel unique, the mythology and setting of Blackstar’s world very much do, and the central plot device of the Powerstar is unique in fantasy animation. The symmetry of the central villain and hero each having half of the world’s most legendary weapon — which is to say, half of the power left in a world struggling to define itself — is a clever riff on the idea that heroes and villains should mirror each other for maximum thematic impact. Their connection through the sundered Powerstar gives the protagonist and antagonist an intimate personal connection, a reason to clash again and again. It also helps define their characters, and what they do with power. It’s no coincidence that in the Overlord’s hands, the Power Sword is all blunt force, used solely to blast or slash, while Blackstar uses the Star Sword as a finesse weapon with flexible magical abilities. (Too flexible, really: Its magic is ill-defined, and the show’s writers invented new Star Sword powers in nearly every episode.) The idea of these two swords as yin and yang, perfect halves that assemble into a greater whole, is unusually elegant for an ’80s cartoon — and one of the series’ many ideas that was never really explored to full advantage. For modern viewers Blackstar is fairly close to unwatchable. Its production company, Filmation, emerged from a series of commercial jobs in the 1960s, but by the 1980s, it specialized in budget-priced television animated entirely in America, rather than in cheaper overseas production houses. That necessitated a lot of cost-saving devices, like recycling the same hand-drawn sequences many times over, often within the same episode, and using a hilariously limited library of sound effects. Blackstar’s sound design is garish and repetitive, with vocal work that sounds like almost everyone is shouting. The scripts are clunky: Blackstar is conceived as a quippy hero who peppers his foes with snarky one-liners, but his jokes are cataclysmically stiff. About the best he can muster is a jaunty “Putting on a little weight, aren’t you, Rocko?” when hefting one rock elemental to toss it onto another during a battle. And the series is designed for the syndication of the era, meaning that episodes might re-air in any order. So there’s no story development, no character arcs, not even an opening episode to establish Blackstar’s origins. Continuity glitches, inconsistent design and storytelling, and budget-saving slow pans across paintings abound. But the world it’s set in is fascinating. There are hints here and there of ancient technologies and centuries-old civilizations buried under what’s become a verdant forest, centered on the magic of the gigantic central Sagar tree, a mystic font of power the Trobbits live in and tend to. Sagar is a world full of weird creatures that seem either like evolutions of familiar animals, or like magical constructs — shark-bats and frog-rabbits and monkey-birds, long before Avatar: The Last Airbender made these kinds of amalgams a running joke. Those slow-pan, cash-saving painting backgrounds are rich, elaborate, and colorful, suggesting a world with the darkness and detail of Jim Henson’s The Dark Crystal.  While so much of 1980s animation was about the clear line between good and evil, there’s a sense throughout Blackstar that most of the world of Sagar isn’t aspected in such a black-and-white way. It’s just a chaotic ruin, where hungry monsters, prim but weary civilizations, and barbaric enclaves all exist side by side, divided by lethal geography. Every scattered outpost and wandering monster is equally dangerous to Blackstar and the Overlord, but ripe for either of them to exploit for an advantage in their ongoing war. There are even hints at a nuanced system for magic, where the mental power of sorcery and the elemental power of nature magic are different things that work in different ways. After Blackstar’s single season ended, Filmation immediately followed it with the Mattel-backed and far better funded He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, a series based on an existing toy line, but just as clearly based on elements borrowed from Blackstar. Once again, there’s a muscular hero in a fur skirt with a magic sword, battling a sorcerous villain in a chaotic technofantasy world packed with environmental hazards and weird, wildly diverse humanoids. Filmation regular Alan Oppenheimer voiced both Blackstar’s Overlord and He-Man’s Skeletor; similarly, Linda Gary voiced Blackstar’s leading lady Mara and He-Man’s Teela. Filmation staff writer Tom Ruegger developed the series bible for both shows, and it shows, in everything from the similar heroes’ and rogues’ galleries to the sprawling high-and-low-tech world where magic and robots co-exist. One He-Man episode, “The Remedy,” even reused several Blackstar sequences, reintroducing Blackstar’s dragon-horse Warlock as a beast He-Man saves from a giant spider, then rides around. While He-Man had many of the same budgetary and aesthetic limitations as Blackstar — frequently recycled animation, obnoxious sound design, goofy and often ineffectual comedy relief — He-Man was immediately more popular. So popular, in fact that toy maker Galoob tried to nab some of Mattel’s sales success by putting out a weirdly modeled toy line for Blackstar, two full years after the show was canceled. (Those toys did not do well.) Now, we’re in an era where He-Man gets reboot after reboot — an all-ages animated version, a CG version for kids, a new live-action movie scheduled for 2026 — while Blackstar is all but forgotten. And I find that so strange. The bid to reboot and update every hit cartoon of the 1980s seems like a natural enough progression for an era of media fueled by nostalgia, but I’ve never understood why there isn’t more of it for Blackstar, a series that was more imaginative and ambitious than either the predecessor it was trying to outdo or the follower that got all the glory. In the way of so many other ’80s cartoons, my interest in a reboot is much less about re-creating an often janky, limited, cheaply made TV series, and much more about realizing the potential these characters and this world couldn’t take advantage of in the 1980s. A modern version with up-to-date animation could give John Blackstar a proper backstory, and actually make some sense of the biggest hero/villain themes the ’80s version lightly touched on. It could take advantage of the retro-future magic setting and the sprawling original world of Sagar in ways Filmation never dreamed of.  And most importantly, a proper modern update could finally dig into the event that split the Powerstar and turned its two halves into thematic weapons. There are so many story possibilities for that particular cool sword, just waiting to be discovered by a new generation.

In the exurbs north of Dallas, further sprawl rarely receives second thought, much less scrutiny from the state government. However, a new community proposed by the East Plano Islamic Center (EPIC)—the largest mosque in North Texas—has drawn the ire of Texas Republicans, including Governor Greg Abbott, who has repeatedly commented on the project. Dubbed EPIC City, the proposal seeks to develop 402 acres of land near Josephine, Texas, delivering over 1,000 homes and supporting commercial spaces, in addition to an Islamic school and mosque. Because it is located deep within the Bible Belt, the development’s explicit ties to Islam have provoked controversy. More specifically, conservative elected officials have pointed to ambiguous language concerning the approval of housing applications that was originally included on EPIC City’s website. Initially, the website stated sales would be restricted to “persons we believe will contribute to the overall makeup of our community.” Assuming that this clause implied approval on the basis of Muslim religious affiliation, critics have charged that Community Capital Partners, an organization created by EPIC to spearhead the project, was in violation of the Fair Housing Act, which prohibits housing discrimination on the basis of race, color, disability, religion, sex, familial status, or national origin. Following the initial backlash, EPIC swiftly edited the statement to clarify that the development would be “a diverse and inclusive community—one in which people of every background, faith, and culture can live together in harmony.” Despite this assurance, criticisms of EPIC City have only intensified, with unsubstantiated claims the community would enforce Sharia Law promulgated across social media by private citizens and elected officials alike. Earlier this year, Abbott tweeted, “To be clear, Sharia Law is not allowed in Texas,” in direct reference to a now-deleted video promoting the project. The East Plano Islamic Center is the largest mosque in North Texas, serving the region’s large muslim community. (Google Maps) In March, the Governor’s attacks escalated when he announced a series of state agencies were launching criminal investigations into Community Capital Partners and EPIC. This includes probes from Attorney General Ken Paxton, the Texas Workforce Commission, Texas State Securities Board, Texas Funeral Service Commission, and Texas Rangers. While the Attorney General and Workforce Commission are targeting the development for violation of the Texas Fair Housing Act, EPIC is also under investigation for fraud, violating consumer protection laws, and conducting unlicensed funeral services, though little information has been provided about the basis for these additional claims. The state inquiries are now joined by a federal investigation from Pam Bondi’s Department of Justice, which was initiated last week. A spokesperson for EPIC and Community Capital Partners told The Dallas Morning News, “EPIC will cooperate fully with any and all investigations—regardless of how misguided and unnecessary they are.” The mosque also shared in a statement on Instagram that many of its leaders and community members have received death threats in the wake of the controversy. AN has reached out to EPIC for comment on the design. The Dallas Morning News reviewed investor documents that said future residents will have five years to build after purchasing a lot in the development, after which they can choose from an approved list of builders or receive approval for a custom builder. The inquiry into EPIC City comes as the Texas Legislature nears approval on a bill banning residents of specific countries from purchasing land in Texas. The measure was passed by the Texas House of Representatives and now proceeds to the State Senate for approval. Currently, the list of prohibited nations deemed security threats includes China, Russia, Iran, and North Korea, however, a recent amendment to the bill would allow Governor Abbott to add additional nations to the list at his discretion. To circumvent violation of the Fair Housing Act, the ban is based on established permanent residence, instead of national origin. After adding to already large legislative majorities during the 2022 midterm election, Texas Republicans have been further emboldened by the second term of President Trump. This has left the state’s enforcement of the Fair Housing Act open to the party’s preferred interpretation.

Three Formerly Enslaved Artists Created Beautiful Pottery 150 Years Ago, and Now Their Wares Are Coveted Around the World The stunning vessels from the H. Wilson & Company were forgotten for generations, only to gain new appreciation for the craftsmanship that went into them Photographs by DeSean McClinton-Holland Jacoba Urist June 2025 A jar made by H. Wilson & Company in Capote, Texas. Right, the muddy banks of Salt Creek, a tributary of the Guadalupe River about 50 miles northeast of San Antonio, where Wilson’s pottery company sourced its fine red clay.  The Museum of Fine Arts, Houston; DeSean McClinton-Holland In 1856, the Reverend John McKamie Wilson Jr., a Presbyterian minister and entrepreneur interested in clay science, relocated from North Carolina to Texas. There in the Capote Hills—a rural, sparse enclave in Guadalupe County, 12 miles from the town of Seguin—Wilson opened a business called Guadalupe Pottery. Wilson mainly sold jugs, churns, crocks and cemetery flower jars. The pots featured crescent handles and a deep chocolate-colored interior of liquefied clay. Before refrigerators and iceboxes, high-fire, nonporous pottery was essential to life—the Tupperware or Ziploc bags of the 19th century. Clay pots preserved everything from grains, beef and butter to whiskey and even drinking water. The potters who worked under Wilson’s direction mostly used alkaline glaze, one of the oldest methods in ceramics, to create a glassy exterior from a slurry of wood ash, sand and clay. An arduous process in the 1850s, it took days to stoke underground wood-burning kilns to a high enough temperature for a successful firing. Three of Wilson’s potters were enslaved servants who traveled to Texas with him—Hiram, James and Wallace. For more than a decade, these men were responsible for nearly every facet of Guadalupe Pottery’s production: from mixing clay and expertly “throwing” the pots on a kick wheel to glazing and stacking vessels and meticulously controlling the temperature and duration of the kiln’s flames. The men kept working for the reverend even after Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863. In Texas, slavery didn’t end until June 19, 1865, when Major General Gordon Granger arrived in Galveston and issued General Order No. 3, informing the people of Texas that all who’d been enslaved were free—the event commemorated as Juneteenth.  Paula King Harper, a descendant of Hiram Wilson, sits on the steps of the Sebastopol House in Seguin, Texas, with Wilson vessels from her own collection. Harper leads the Wilson Pottery Foundation and coordinates the Wilson Pottery Show each October. DeSean McClinton-Holland Subscribe to Smithsonian magazine now for just $19.99 This article is a selection from the June 2025 issue of Smithsonian magazine In 1869, Hiram founded his own stoneware business at a new site with James and Wallace, H. Wilson & Company. (Though not biologically related, all three took their enslaver’s surname, the practice of some Black Americans at the time.) Some scholars believe that H. Wilson & Company was the first business in Texas founded and owned by formerly enslaved people.  Pots created by the hands of Hiram Wilson and his colleagues have been passed down through households and sold at garage sales over the course of many generations. Today, their rich history, as well as their distinctive styles and glazes, make the jugs sought-after acquisitions for museum collections. Left to right: A preserve jar, a three-gallon butter churn and a large jar with a lid from the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston; a stoneware jar from the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History.  The Museum of Fine Arts, Houston (3); NMAH A century and a half later, the pots they made are celebrated in the ceramics world. In silvery grays and greens, with uneven salt drips and textured glazes that resemble the moon’s surface or, sometimes, an orange peel, Wilson wares are coveted both as objets d’art and for their extraordinary story of Black self-determination in the postwar South. Wilson pottery now resides in museums across the United States, from the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History to the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston—an indelible part of the country’s entrepreneurial and creative heritage.   The story of Hiram, James and Wallace Wilson is woven through with threads of folklore, given the sparse records kept at that time, particularly for people born into slavery. But over the last 50 years, researchers have uncovered more details about the Wilsons. Georgeanna Greer—a San Antonio pediatrician and ceramics collector-aficionado—was passionate about locating abandoned kilns, and she left a trove of Wilson information behind, including a 1973 taped interview with James Wilson’s son, James Wilson Jr.  Capote Baptist Church has been in the midst of a restoration since 2012. After a new pastor, Terry Williams, arrived, its membership surged from 4 congregants to 85. DeSean McClinton-Holland A wooden cross on the property of the Capote Baptist Church that Hiram Wilson founded in 1872 DeSean McClinton-Holland Emancipation offered the Wilsons an opportunity none had ever expected. Establishing a pottery business was complex and costly. It meant finding a suitable site, testing clay, constructing a kiln and hiring proficient workers. And the men did all this in an “intensely dangerous environment,” said Ashley Williams, a recent fellow at the Smithsonian American Art Museum. In the late 1860s, Black residents of Guadalupe County “filed almost 200 complaints with the Freedmen’s Bureau for unpaid wages and violent crimes” perpetrated against them. A Baptist missionary from Maine, the Reverend Leonard Ilsley, helped Hiram buy 600 acres of land for $500 and likely either gave Hiram a personal loan or served as a guarantor in the transaction. When Hiram died in 1884­—survived by his wife, Senia, and 11 children—Ilsley served as administrator of his estate. One of Hiram’s great-great-granddaughters, LaVerne Lewis Britt, first discovered her connection to the potters after her retirement, when she became interested in genealogy. Over the course of five years, she researched and wrote a book called In Praise of Hiram Wilson, which describes how her ancestor created a thriving post-slavery community in Capote. Hiram set aside 10 of his 600 acres for a Baptist church and became its minister. The white steepled chapel remains active today, beside a cemetery with cedar and crape myrtle trees. Many Wilsons have been laid to rest there, including Hiram, whose grave is marked by a tall obelisk.  Pastor Terry Williams has been leading the Capote Baptist Church since 2015. When he arrived, he says, he felt the spirit of Hiram Wilson and other former slaves who founded the church in 1872—“a cold breeze coming up in the summertime.”  DeSean McClinton-Holland A Bible rests on the piano at Capote Baptist Church. Right, the building has been in the midst of a restoration since 2012. After Pastor Williams arrived, its membership surged from 4 congregants to 85. Hiram also founded a one-room schoolhouse where Paula King Harper, another of his descendants, says her grandmother once taught. King Harper is the current president of the Wilson Pottery Foundation. On the phone, she described how interest in her celebrated ancestor’s technique has spread in collector circles since the organization’s founding in 1999. A pottery collector in San Antonio was at a garage sale and noticed the green salt glaze drip from underneath dirt that had dried on a gallon jug. “They purchased it for less than $10, went home, cleaned it up, and guess what it was? A stamped H. Wilson.” Finding that stamp is now the equivalent of finding a signed painting by a renowned artist. King Harper once sat at an auction that included several pieces of Wilson pottery from someone’s private estate. “There was a beautiful, pristine five-gallon jug I watched sell for $12,000,” she said. Traditionally, clay artists, who made quotidian jugs and jars rather than purely aesthetic works, have been considered second-tier makers, ranking below sculptors. But over the last few decades, contemporary and historic ceramicists like the Wilsons are receiving new scholarly and art-world attention. Williams, the recent Smithsonian fellow, is researching the Wilsons as part of her doctorate at Columbia University. She notes that most enslaved potters wouldn’t have been able to inscribe their names or initials on a pot. But once the Wilson potters were free, they added a maker’s mark, which made all the difference. Future generations were able to dive into the records and find out more about the remarkable potters. “Because we can tie the makers to these objects, which is so rare, it allows us to see the story about the resilience of the Wilson potters during slavery, and their extreme success and survival,” Williams said. Elmer Joe Brackner Jr. was a graduate student in anthropology at the University of Texas when he unearthed buried ceramic shards and located the original kilns at two different H. Wilson & Company sites. DeSean McClinton-Holland Ashley Williams, a recent pre-doctoral fellow at the Smithsonian American Art Museum, has been researching the Wilson potters as part of her PhD dissertation on crafts made by enslaved and imprisoned artists. DeSean McClinton-Holland The Wilsons’ style may have been influenced by the works coming out of the Edgefield district in South Carolina, a place then known as a kind of pottery Mecca. It was famous for massive, bulbous jars and glazes, features that the early Wilson pots share. Edgefield has its own significant history of highly skilled Black craftsmen, including David Drake, the earliest known enslaved potter to inscribe his work. CollectorsDeSean McClinton-Holland Later, the Wilsons’ pottery took on more distinctive features. The men started out using alkaline glaze, but once they opened their own business they switched to salt glaze, likely for its strength and waterproofing properties. Salt glaze also produces more consistent colors and textures, such as the bumpy orange-peel finish admired by H. Wilson & Company collectors. At the time, the method was uncommon in Texas, according to Michelle Johnson, project manager of the William J. Hill Texas Artisans and Artists Archive at the Bayou Bend Collection and Gardens, part of the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. “And it was dangerous,” she said, because salt glaze produces highly toxic chlorine gas from the wet salt thrown into the kiln during firing. (For this reason, contemporary ceramicists avoid the method altogether.) The Wilsons may have learned the technique from Isaac Suttles, an Ohio-born potter known for salt glazing, who is listed in the United States census as living in Seguin at the time.  The Sebastopol House, a Greek Revival home, was built in the 1850s by enslaved laborers who had advanced skills in working with concrete. Today, the building houses the Wilson Pottery Museum.  DeSean McClinton-Holland Lid rims are another notable element of H. Wilson & Company’s jars. At the first pottery-making site, during their enslavement, the men made more tie-down rims—jars without lids that require paper or cloth as a cover, which were easier and faster to make. Later, at their own shop, they crafted rims fitted for lids. Those lid rims allowed for more watertightstorage, but they also required more sophisticated expertise.If you think you may have stumbled on one of these treasures at a garage or estate sale, look for a horseshoe-like handle—the most significant visual identifier of a Wilson pot. It’s still unclear why Hiram, James and Wallace switched to these thicker, rolled handles from their original Edgefield-inspired crescents. It may have been because horseshoe handles are sturdier, offering more surface connection to the pot’s body. It’s another puzzling question that Williams is pursuing and hopes to answer in the future.  It took a long time for the art world to discover the Wilsons’ creations. After Hiram’s death in 1884, James and Wallace Wilson went on to work at another pottery site run by Marion Durham, a potter from South Carolina who had moved to Texas with John Chandler, who was most likely his enslaved servant at the time. By the time the Wilsons joined them, Durham and Chandler were in business together. That site closed in 1903. These pots remained in circulation, but many details of their story were lost.  Modern replicas of the Wilson pottery logo created by Earline Green. DeSean McClinton-Holland Earline Green, an educator and a member of the Wilson Pottery Foundation’s board of directors. Green helps promote the potters’ legacy by demonstrating their innovative 19th-century techniques.  DeSean McClinton-Holland Decades later, an anthropology graduate student named Elmer Joe Brackner Jr. conducted a magnetometry survey to find buried pottery. (Clay contains iron oxides that can become magnetized.) At the original Guadalupe Pottery site he found what’s known as a “groundhog kiln,” a uniquely Southern, semi-subterranean kiln used in the 19th century for firing alkaline-glazed pottery. At the second site, home of the independent H. Wilson & Company, Brackner found ceramic-glazed shards and another groundhog kiln. His research, and that of Georgeanna Greer, the ceramic historian, helped piece together the Wilsons’ unusual story. After many years of advocacy by the Wilson Pottery Foundation, art historians and curators began scouring land deeds, court documents and handwritten capacity marks (numbers that denote the volume of each jug) to present a fuller picture of the Wilsons, sometimes correcting previous theories about their methodology and timeline. Texas ceramic artist Earline Green researches the Wilsons’ past while creating her own pottery to honor their legacy. In 2018, she interviewed Wilson descendants and collectors and visited historical societies in Texas for archival information. Two years later, she curated an exhibition on her campus in Fort Worth; the show also displayed ceramic pieces she created based on the work of the Wilson potters. Deacon Willie Hightower Sr., a descendant of Hiram Wilson and one of the current deacons at Capote Baptist Church. DeSean McClinton-Holland Hiram Wilson’sDeSean McClinton-Holland The narrative continues to evolve, due in no small part to proud descendants of Hiram, James and Wallace. Every three years, hundreds of people gather in Seguin, Texas, for a jubilant three-day Wilson family reunion that is open to the public. In 2023, festivities included the Wilson Pottery Foundation gala and a tenth anniversary celebration at the Wilson Pottery Museum. The last reunion fell on the weekend before Juneteenth, and the reunion committee arranged a kickoff concert Sunday evening followed by Juneteenth events in Seguin’s downtown square. “I was fortunate to grow up in Texas in the 1980s, around the time when our cousin LaVerne Lewis Britt had uncovered the history,” explains DeSean McClinton-Holland, the photographer of this story and a Wilson descendant through his maternal grandmother. “I grew up knowing bits of the story and visiting the church.” He describes the process of documenting Hiram Wilson’s legacy as a healing journey. “To think, he was born into slavery and was able to accomplish so much shortly thereafter,” he says. “It’s inspiring and motivating to think of all the freedoms we have now, and that we really have to push a bit harder.”  Get the latest Travel & Culture stories in your inbox.

A Dream(cast) collection So what did other outlets have to say: Nintendo World Report - 8/10 "Capcom Fighting Collection 2 is another mix of great hits, fun curiosities, and a few games that feel more like filling out a roster than anything. That said, Capcom vs. SNK and Power Stone are more than worth the price of entry alone, and fighting game fanatics will at least enjoy experiencing some oddities that they wouldn’t have otherwise." Gaming Bible - 9/10 "Capcom Fighting Collection Vol. 2 boasts an impressive roster of games and pairs well with the first collection for a varied, comprehensive trip through Capcom’s fighting game history, and even then, it doesn’t feel like the journey through time is over yet." But Why Tho - 9/10 "Overall, while not every game in Capcom Fighting Collection 2 is equally balanced or polished, the variety and care taken in preservation make it a standout retro bundle that’s definitely worth the price. The new additions also make it more accessible and approachable to modern players." Siliconera - 8/10 "Capcom Fighting Collection 2 is great for many reasons, ranging from being a means of preserving fantastic games, easily play Power Stone, and reminding people the Rival Schools series existed. The roster of games available is sound" CGMagazine - 8/10 "Capcom Fighting Collection 2 doesn’t change much in terms of presentation and performance compared to past releases. Still, this latest compilation goes beyond Street Fighter and highlights some of the more eclectic titles from Capcom’s deep catalogue of fighting game standouts." A fantasy score? That's a wrap Exciting news for SEGA fighting fans Will be checking out this latest Capcom collection on the Switch? Let us know in the comments. Related Games See Also Share:0 1 Liam is a news writer and reviewer across Hookshot Media. He's been writing about games for more than 15 years and is a lifelong fan of many iconic video game characters. Hold on there, you need to login to post a comment... Related Articles Nintendo Updates Its User Agreement To Crack Down On Emulation Offenders may find their Switch bricked Nintendo Reconfirms Release Windows For Major Switch 2 Games And original Switch, of course The First Review For Fantasy Life i: The Girl Who Steals Time Is In A fantasy score? SNK Announces ACA NEOGEO Selection Vol. 5 And Vol. 6 For Switch Update: Multi-language release confirmed

God, it looks good.