Trigona Ambrose is a character in a webcomic called Beeserker. It’s a very surreal sort of strip wherein some Sciencemen decide to create a robot powered by bees. Such a quest requires a lot of bees, and Trigona is the beekeeper who supplies them. So now that robot, the titular Beeserker, considers Trigona its mother figure and she’s got some bizarre friends to drag her into bizarre adventures. Most of the beekeepers I’ve reviewed so far have appeared once or twice and then their story was done, but Trigona is still appearing in an ongoing comic, so she’s still “active” if you will.
Called “Beegirl” by the Sciencemen, in many instances Trigona comes across as a voice of reason in the strip. But that is only because of how insane everyone and everything else is there. Trigona’s role as a bee-seller is, she admits, not typical of a beekeeper, but she’s bored with her life and doesn’t care much about the well-being of her bees. Considering her method of beekeeping seems to be entirely based around shooting them with a flamethrower made of a bear’s head (the Ursinerator), selling them as a fuel source is pretty consistent.
The Ambrose family is the latest branch of a long lineage of beekeepers, apparently. That is appropriately mythic. Her parents have been seen in the strip. Her father is Meliponini, who wielded the Ursinerator before Tringona. Her mother is Queenie, who seems to have the strongest bee control in the family (she is the queen after all) and apparently smoke-control. It’s very clear that in the universe of this comic, beekeepers are the supernatural force I’ve been saying they were all along.
So let’s run down the beekeeping powers Trigona has displayed so far: She’s got an antennae headband that allows her to translate “all bee languages”. She’s got goggles that allow her to track bee energies. The Ursinerator, of course, is a pretty cool flamethrower, but it also flies and functions as a phone. She even has transformation sequences to help her get dressed. In the Beeserker video game, she can double-jump. The Bee-Dome in which she lives, has some handy self-regenerative powers. She has a bit of a weakness for glue-fume-instigated hallucinations, but for the most part that’s a very impressive set of abilities. She’s held her own in many a fight and the fact that’s she’s got so many bees to sell indicates at least some success at keeping her colony active. Though I’d almost bet the bee-dome is self sufficient enough that it’d keep a good colony even if there were no Ambroses there at all.
Four Honeycombs out of Five. Very strong in the adventuresome aspects of the profession, but less so in the beekeeping parts.
You can just watch this one for yourself, why not? It isn’t even five minutes long.
What we have here is Beekeeper Rage in action, right before our very eyes. Reginald, portrayed by John Cleese, is being interviewed by an interviewer, played by Rowan Atkinson, and it all goes downhill from there. As you can see for yourself, Reginald Prawnbaum is a very renowned beekeeper. So much so that he gets to appear on television! Television! If that’s not a measure of success, I don’t know what is. Reginald starts out very composed and together but less than five minutes later and he’s lost the constant struggle that rages in the heart of every beekeeper.
We learn quite a bit about poor Reginald in that time. He’s been a beekeeper for “over forty years” and whose love of bees began as a child. He kept notes about what kinds of flowers the bees visited even then. As a child! This is a man with so many experience points devoted to his beekeeping stats that I assume when he is among his swarms he is like unto a demigod. He’s not got much experience dealing with idiotic interviewers, though.
I mean, the interviewer is an idiot. I think there might even be some malice behind it. Are his tics real? I can’t actually be sure that this was a calculated attempt to discredit a beekeeper live on television, but the possibility exists.
But does the possibility that the interviewer is actively goading Reginald, or even the certainty that he’s extremely annoying, justify the wrath that Reginald brings down on him? Well, making him run around until he falls off the stage, that’s not so bad. Shooting him? That’s a touch more than necessary.
How good a beekeeper is Reginald? Well, we don’t see him do any beekeeping. I can (and do) assume he’s got all kinds of supernatural powers and fighting ability. But it isn’t just his stated beekeeping experience that make me suspect it. It’s the gun. Where does Reginald get the gun? Why does he have it at this interview? If you say he has it because it is funny, you’re missing the point of overthinking fictional beekeepers. If you’re PDR you realize there are two possibilities: Either he just carries around a gun because he’s the type who needs a gun on a regular basis because he’s fighting mobsters or something, or he just straight up summoned a gun from the ether (maybe he had his bees bring it to him instantly during the moment of darkness?). Either scenario means one thing: Reginald Prawnbaum is a badass beekeeper.
Three Honeycombs out of Five. I’m certain this guy is extremely powerful, but he unfortunately loses points for the Rage.
Movie idea: Have @nickjfrost dressed as a viking fighting goblins for ninety minutes. I’d watch it.
The Beekeepers that Springfield forgot: bookofpdr.com/2014/12/16/bee…