The internet keeps mashing these two together, and the Doctor has had enough. AtomicPunk is the dark side of the atom: duck-and-cover drills, fallout shelters in the backyard, the mushroom cloud looming over every chrome-plated appliance. It is the 1950s screaming at you that progress has a body count. Raypunk is the optimistic lie we told ourselves at the same moment: flying cars, robot butlers, gleaming Googie diners, The Jetsons as sincere prophecy. Same era, opposite emotional register. One says “we’re all going to die beautifully”; the other says “we’re all going to live forever in a push-button paradise.” Both are wrong, which is exactly why both are magnificent.

The Omega7Red Formulae distinguishes them by what the gears do to you. Apply AtomicPunk to a suburban house and you get a fallout shelter with a cocktail bar and a Geiger counter as the centerpiece. Apply Raypunk to that same house and you get a rotating rooftop pad with a personal jetpack rack and an AI butler who still somehow talks like a 1962 dishwasher commercial. Related? Yes. Identical? Absolutely not, and if you keep calling them the same thing the Doctor is going to start mislabeling YOUR aesthetic subgenre. How would you like to be called “GardenPunk?” Think about it.

The confusion is forgivable because both aesthetics are having an enormous moment right now, as even the genre theorists are noting, riding the wake of Fallout and Oppenheimer. But “big moment” is not an excuse for sloppy taxonomy. The Formulae demands precision. Now you know. High-5.

The Chicago Steampunk Exposition has dropped its 2027 theme and, look, I just want to say: someone in Schaumburg, Illinois is doing the Lord’s work. The 2027 Expo is going full Victorian space travel, drawing its inspiration from H.G. Wells, Georges Méliès, Edgar Rice Burroughs, and anyone else who ever looked at a steam-powered boiler and thought, “yes, but what if we aimed it at Mars.” The convention channels the spirit of the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair with a retro-futuristic twist, and this year the twist is: the Moon, Mars, and boldly going where no chap (or lady) has gone before. Mark your calendar: June 11–13, 2027, Schaumburg, IL.

This is the Omega7Red Formulae operating at peak efficiency, people. You take Victorian ambition (the kind that built the Ferris Wheel and called it a modest achievement), you point it at the void of space, and you get something that makes NASA look like it’s still loading on dial-up. Méliès shot a rocket into the Moon’s eye in 1902 as a film trick. The Victorians would have called that a proof of concept and started laying track. Three days of panels, costumes, vendors, entertainment, and presumably at least one argument about whether aetheric propulsion counts as hard science. Free parking. Fully air conditioned. The Doctor approves.

Get your goggles calibrated, fire up the brass orrery, and start planning your kit now. Twelve months is barely enough time to properly weather an authentic Lunar Expedition ensemble. chicagosteampunkexpo.com — wait, no. chicagosteampunkexpo.com for all the details. Nothing can beat old age and betrayal, but a steam-powered rocket to the Moon is a solid second place. High-5.

Somewhere in an alternate 1940s, Abraham Lincoln survives, the Reconstruction goes differently, and battleships take to the skies on the back of bold leaps in electricity, magnetism, and gravity. That is the premise baked into every rivet of Steel Seas & Sky Machines, the Portsmouth, Virginia exhibition showcasing the dieselpunk world of artist Tony Snipes and his fictional Portsmouth Aeroshipbuilding Co. Detailed sketches, 3-D models, and digital works, all locked in to an alt-history where the home front didn’t build Liberty Ships, it built Aerocycles and aeroships. The Doctor approves of this timeline.

If you missed the exhibition, Snipes has a live Kickstarter running right now for the Aerocycle Art Book & Model Kit, a product launch straight out of The Yard itself. An art book AND a model kit. In a dieselpunk universe. For actual money you can spend. This is the Omega7Red Formulae applied to “what if WWII-era industrial propaganda was awesome on purpose” and the result is exactly what you’d hope. Go back this thing. Nothing can beat old age and betrayal, but a tabletop Aerocycle might come close.

Via: The Steampunk Explorer

Somewhere between 2008 and the heat death of the universe, Hungarian director Balazs Hatvani has been building Thelomeris: a city of cogwheels and clocks where the citizens exist solely to feed the insatiable Clock Factory, and no one knows who built it or why. That is, objectively, the most on-brand premise I have encountered since I invented the Omega7Red Formulae. ClockPunk. DieselPunk. Noir. A city that is itself a machine that makes more machine. The Doctor approves so hard he pulled something.

And they got Mark Hamill to play the mysterious Stranger and serve as a script consultant. Luke Skywalker. The Joker. That Mark Hamill, in a brooding Eastern European clockwork dystopia. The Formula was applied by a Hungarian filmmaker with impeccable taste, and the result is either going to be extraordinary or the most beautiful catastrophe ever committed to green screen. Either way I win, because both outcomes are things I want to see. The film has been in development since 2008, which means it has been cooking longer than some of my laboratory assistants have been alive. Nothing can beat old age and betrayal, but apparently this movie is going to try.

A trailer exists. Hamill is credited. The city is dark, cold, and run entirely on clock-powered despair. Someone please get this thing released before the gears stop turning. Via: Screen Anarchy