From all accounts, there is nothing quite like the sound of an Atlantic hurricane whipping through the tattered rigging of a seventeenth century pirate ship you have outfitted yourself, one which imprints itself into the memory indelibly quite apart from the degree of success or failure with which the actual pirating activities may have met. But to get to that point the inexperienced supervillain needs to attend to an enormous number of petty little details, many of which seeming on their face to be far away from the notion of freebooting along the Spanish Main, yet stubbornly having some essential role in the buccaneer ecosystem. Many of these are traditionally passed on orally by those who have served on such vessels, a population which is these days inconvenient and rather unpleasant to access first-hand, which all helps to make our little guide to getting started with outlaw sea roving a welcome compass heading to those who might through unpreparedness blunder into a whiff of grape-shot administered broadside by a vessel under the flag of some Majesty or another.

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Used to have this girlfriend who was hanging out with some guy whose big thing was going everywhere covered in fire, at home, out shopping, working out at the gym, all the time, the best I could tell the dude went to sleep that way even, which is pretty weird if you stop and think about it, since he must have lived in a place made completely out of stone or metal or something you would think, (if I'm not mistaken he had some kind of odd job with the movies) and I remember wondering at the time how they could possibly get along together, since she wasn't in fact the covered in flames type but was just a normal gal more or less. Sometimes she and I would be out somewhere and her phone would ring, and it would be that weird boyfriend of hers, and afterwards I would be like So how does he call you without melting his phone? and Does he have to pay the phone company online since he obviously can't be writing out paper checks? and she would refuse to talk about it. I think she thought I thought they ought to split up, but actually I just thought it was really impractical for him to expect her to have to put up with his thing, since it was so hard to go anywhere with the guy (except the beach, a couple times) and furthermore what kind of thing do you buy someone like that, who doesn't wear normal clothes like everyone else, which you might laugh about but it gets to be a really important issue around the holidays and birthdays and stuff like that. Anyhow it didn't end up lasting, she took up with some Puerto Rican guy whose thing was about raising mutant crocodile-people or something like that and she ended up moving in with that guy I think. Seems like she just got tired of being the flame-guy's girlfriend and all.

Capella

In any good hour-long television drama these days, one is likely to encounter some sort of tense courtroom scene, perhaps more than one, precisely because the ritual and trappings of legal proceedings have a way of capturing the popular imagination in a way that nothing else quite matches. You as an evil supervillain can tap into this instinctual depth of feeling by subjecting your unfortunate victims to a public and demeaning show trial with the roles of judge, jury, counsel, bailiff, and executioner filled by members of your organization.

The important thing to realize about show trials is that the more agonizing the back-and-forth, the more monstrous the account of the accused one's misdeeds, the more outlandish the costumes and demeanor of the principals onstage, the better the theater you are presenting. Ordinarily when planning a caper the effective supervillain tries to smooth over the rough edges and present the glossy facade of inevitability from beginning to end. When producing a show where one stars as hanging judge, however, the gritty and baroque elements become the hooks which plunge the criminal proceedings down the throats of those who happen upon it, so it is important to leave this appearance in the final product, stage-managed though it is behind the scenes. Otherwise the whole enterprise can turn into a mockery of your genius as the rabble dares to complain about the boringness and pointlessness of a predictable performance you have cooked up at considerable expense and trouble. And who needs that, after all, since they are going to speak ill of you owing to your fell deeds without all this extra bother?

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Sometimes it is just too much like honest work, just being a villain, and one has to find ways to rediscover the allure of doing bad on your own terms, without being compared to what every other evil individual might have accomplished or having to play up to the petty concerns of your opposite numbers among the forces of good. At times when this mundane ennui most threatens my equilibrium, I like to take a vacation from the real world and break things up in a brand-new virtual world either of my own or one that I can invade to do my mischief. It can be so refreshing to turn one's hand to pure plotting without having to face the same old questions about economic viability, of biologic limitations, or historic fact, instead boldly taking reckless brushstrokes to an empty canvas in order to craft a hitherto undreamt of monstrosity. For in the brave new virtuality where you hold the reins, dragons can lounge menacingly on every streetcorner, human playthings can be subjected to abuse far past the point of endurance of any standard mind or body, and dead men can still exhibit conversational aptitude, all to the dismay of your helpless victims.

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The newest installment on the wiki, How to cause a flood, is one close to my heart because it takes me back to the days when I was just starting out as a bad guy, making mischief by drowning towns and villages close to where I grew up, diverting rivers into inhabited valleys, that kind of thing. I can't say that at the time I was capable of causing mass loss of life or extreme devastation, but it did serve to cause a fair amount of property damage, rile the victims up enough to get them to beg for some measure of mercy, and leave a permanent scar on the landscape, all at a reasonable price. A wonderful way to get one's feet wet.

Ahem.

Floods grip the imagination of those who stand in their way. One moment simply standing on a city street, or camping in a desert ravine, the victim sees awe-inspiring flood waters crashing toward their position in an instant, seemingly out of nowhere. Floods can happen anywhere, anytime, if one is unlucky enough to be on the wrong side of a supervillain, and the psychological effect this can have can be just as effective as more exotic, unreliable, and costly technology.

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