HBO greenlights A Game of Thrones pilot!

[keg in kc]

EDIT: Changed the original header to mark this as the thread where spoilers are allowed (but not necessarily recommended...). Created a new, spoiler-free thread for Ice and Fire virgins...


This is awesome...

Huge, Huge News

Nov. 11th, 2008 at 10:29 PM

HBO has given the production order.

They will be filming the pilot episode of A GAME OF THRONES.

It's just the pilot so far. They'll need to see that before they decide whether to proceed with a full season's episodes. So let's all hope the pilot will kick serious ass.

It should. David Benioff and Dan Weiss did a terrific job with the script. And yes, all of you can relax, it's very faithful. Dan and David will be the executive producers for the pilot and (we hope) the eventual series.

More details when I have 'em. The news is very fresh. HBO just issued their own press release, which should be up on their website soon, if it's not there already.

Winter is coming to HBO. Hot damn.

[keg in kc]

I'd say this qualifies as really good news:

EXCLUSIVE-'Game of Thrones' rules HBO's DVD sales

Lisa Richwine, Reuters March 16, 2012, 7:13 am

LOST ANGELES, March 15 (Reuters) - HBO's award-winning fantasy drama "Game of Thrones" has earned a new crown: the largest first-week DVD sales among any series in the cable network's history.

Season one DVD sales reached about 350,000 units in the first seven days following its March 6 release, the network said on Thursday. That pace ranks ahead of other popular HBO series including "The Sopranos," "Sex and the City" and "True Blood."

The program also set an HBO series record for sales of digital downloads from outlets such as iTunesapple, the network said, but it did not provide figures.

"What we are seeing is 'Game of Thrones' being a hit across all platforms-network, disc and digital," said Henry McGee, president of HBO Home Entertainment.

Further info says that it was the number 2 seller for the week, behind the movie Immortals, and that 57% of the sales were Blu-Ray, which is apparently just enormous for a tv series.

[Swanman]

Originally Posted by keg in kc

I'd say this qualifies as really good news:Further info says that it was the number 2 seller for the week, behind the movie Immortals, and that 57% of the sales were Blu-Ray, which is apparently just enormous for a tv series.

It really helps that they dropped the price all the way down to $35 in certain places. HBO used to be complete dicks about pricing on their tv series. When Band of Brothers was first released, it was like $120 for regular dvd.

[vailpass]

I re-watched the episode last night where Ned is saying goodbye to Jon Snow as they part ways for King's Landing and the Wall.
Ned tells Jon something like "you may not have my name but you have my blood"

Spoiler!

Question:Is it for sure Ned is Jon's dad? I remember reading in one of the books something that seemed to hint that Jon may be someone else's kid and Ned took care of him as a matter of honor or by doing someone a favor.

[Pants]

Originally Posted by vailpass

I re-watched the episode last night where Ned is saying goodbye to Jon Snow as they part ways for King's Landing and the Wall.
Ned tells Jon something like "you may not have my name but you have my blood"

Spoiler!

Question:Is it for sure Ned is Jon's dad? I remember reading in one of the books something that seemed to hint that Jon may be someone else's kid and Ned took care of him as a matter of honor or by doing someone a favor.

Pretty sure this was already discussed in one of these threads, but it's pretty much consensus that Jon is...

Spoiler!

...Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen's love child. Lyanna, on her deathbed in the Tower of Joy, had Ned promise her that he would protect her baby. The only way Ned could make sure nothing ever happened to Jon and to prevent Robert Baratheon from killing him, was to pretend like Jon wasn't a Targaryen. Ned made up a story about Jon being his bastard son and that way he could keep him safe behind the walls of Winterfell.

[vailpass]

Originally Posted by Pants

Pretty sure this was already discussed in one of these threads, but it's pretty much consensus that Jon is...

Spoiler!

...Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen's love child. Lyanna, on her deathbed in the Tower of Joy, had Ned promise her that he would protect her baby. The only way Ned could make sure nothing ever happened to Jon and to prevent Robert Baratheon from killing him, was to pretend like Jon wasn't a Targaryen. Ned made up a story about Jon being his bastard son and that way he could keep him safe behind the walls of Winterfell.

Spoiler!

Thanks. So when Ned told Jon he had his blood he meant Stark (Lyanna) blood. So Jon Snow is a Dragon. Is he immune to the flames of the Red Priestess? Will it be her that brings Jon back from the knife attack?

[Pants]

Originally Posted by vailpass

Spoiler!

Thanks. So when Ned told Jon he had his blood he meant Stark (Lyanna) blood. So Jon Snow is a Dragon. Is he immune to the flames of the Red Priestess? Will it be her that brings Jon back from the knife attack?

That's theory... Ned means Stark blood when talks about his blood.

Spoiler!

As far being immune to flames and all that, there's no real clarity to that. Targaryens have definitely succumbed to fire before and Dany, herself, gets burns from Drogon in ADWD if you recall.

[Hawk]

Originally Posted by Pants

That's theory... Ned means Stark blood when talks about his blood.

Spoiler!

As far being immune to flames and all that, there's no real clarity to that. Targaryens have definitely succumbed to fire before and Dany, herself, gets burns from Drogon in ADWD if you recall.

Spoiler!

Yeah, weird that Dany got burns onher hands in ADWD but not when she touched the hot dragon eggs or walked into the fire when the dragons were burned, or when she rode Drogon out of the arena. Doesn't make sense, but maybe it will be explained at some point. Other Targaryans have not been immune, hell, Dany's brother died from burns from his "golden crown" that Drogo gave him.

Also, if you go a few pages back in this thread, you will find some discussion of Jon's parents and some great links to essays discussing it in detail.

I've been rewatching some of the episodes this week on HBO, looking forward to the new season!

[duncan_idaho]

Spoiler!

I am fairly sure one of the reasons the Targaryens always inbred was because only a PURE "dragon" could withstand the fire/command dragons/etc.

As time progressed, two things happened: 1) They intermingled that blood with the blood of the Andals in Westeros; 2) They started to have more crazies pop up from all the inbreeding.

So the "true dragons" become fewer and more far between as time progresses.

It will be interesting to see how they handle Sansa's time as a captive. Something tells me not even HBO would approve showing all of the beatings - and the disturbing stripping - Joffrey inflicts on Sansa. Can't have a 14-year-old getting punched out by a man in armor every time Robb Stark wins a battle.

Re: Dany getting burns from Drogon... I remember her talking about her hair being on fire, but will need to re-read that last chapter again. READ IT: "The fire burned away my hair, but elsewise did not touch me. It had been the same in Daznak's pit."

Bet she gets REALLY skinny during this season (as she spends 1/2 the season traveling through a desert on barely-stay-alive-rations).

[Hawk]

Originally Posted by duncan_idaho

Spoiler!

I am fairly sure one of the reasons the Targaryens always inbred was because only a PURE "dragon" could withstand the fire/command dragons/etc.

As time progressed, two things happened: 1) They intermingled that blood with the blood of the Andals in Westeros; 2) They started to have more crazies pop up from all the inbreeding.

So the "true dragons" become fewer and more far between as time progresses.

It will be interesting to see how they handle Sansa's time as a captive. Something tells me not even HBO would approve showing all of the beatings - and the disturbing stripping - Joffrey inflicts on Sansa. Can't have a 14-year-old getting punched out by a man in armor every time Robb Stark wins a battle.

Re: Dany getting burns from Drogon... I remember her talking about her hair being on fire, but will need to re-read that last chapter again. READ IT: "The fire burned away my hair, but elsewise did not touch me. It had been the same in Daznak's pit."

Bet she gets REALLY skinny during this season (as she spends 1/2 the season traveling through a desert on barely-stay-alive-rations).

Spoiler!

I'm pretty sure there is a reference to her burning her hands in her last chapter which is what confused me. I think she burned them on charred meat, but I could be wrong.

[Hawk]

Here is a video of a recent interview with GRRM where he reads an excerpt from the Winds of Winter near the end of it. It is an excerpt from a Victarion chapter. Man I can't wait for book 6. All the set up in books 4 and 5 is about to pay off in book 6 as the shit is about to hit the fan!

[vailpass]

Originally Posted by Hawk

Spoiler!

I'm pretty sure there is a reference to her burning her hands in her last chapter which is what confused me. I think she burned them on charred meat, but I could be wrong.

Spoiler!

Yes, her hands are burned when she is in the pit, at least that is what is shown. Maybe there is more to that than what we have been shown so far? Related to her being pregnant or whatever causes her to gush blood out from between her legs later on?

[duncan_idaho]

Originally Posted by Hawk

Here is a video of a recent interview with GRRM where he reads an excerpt from the Winds of Winter near the end of it. It is an excerpt from a Victarion chapter. Man I can't wait for book 6. All the set up in books 4 and 5 is about to pay off in book 6 as the shit is about to hit the fan!

Hurry up and finish it and stop galavanting around the world already!

Good lord, that was incredible.

[Hawk]

Someone on Westeros.org posted the text of what he read, so here is the text for those who'd rather read it:

Spoiler!

The Noble Lady was a tub of a ship, as fat and wallowing as the noble ladies of the green lands. Her holds were huge, and Victarion packed them with armed men.

With her would sail the other, lesser, prizes that the Iron Fleet had taken on its long voyage to Slaver’s Bay; a lubbery assortment of cogs, greatcogs, carracks and trading galleys, salted here and there with fishing boats. It was a fleet both fat and feeble, promising much in the way of wool and wines and other trade goods, and little in the way of danger. Victarion gave the command of it to Wulfe One-Ear.

‘The slavers may shiver when they spy your sails rising from the sea,’ he told him, ‘but once they see you plain they will laugh at their fears. Traders and fishers, that’s all you are. Any man can see that. Let them get close as they like, but keep your men hidden below decks until you are ready. Then close and board them. Free the slaves and feed the slavers to the sea, but take the ships. We will have need of every hull to carry us back home.’

‘Home.’ Wulfe grinned. ‘The men’ll like the sound o’ that, Lord Captain.’

‘The ships first. Then we break these Yunkishmen.’

‘Aye.’

The Iron Victory was lashed alongside the Noble Lady, the two ships bound tight with chains and grappling hooks, a ladder stretched between them. The great cog was much larger than the warship and sat higher in the water; all along the gunwales the faces of the ironborn peered down, watching as Victarion clapped Wulfe One-Ear on the shoulder and sent him clambering up the ladder. The sea was smooth and still, the sky bright with stars. Wulfe ordered the ladder brought up, the chains cast off. The warship and the cog parted ways.

In the distance the rest of Victarion’s feigned fleet was raising sail. A ragged cheer went up from the crew of the Iron Victory, and was answered in kind by the men of the Noble Lady. Victarion had given Wulfe his best fighters. He envied them; they would be the first to strike a blow, the first to see that look of fear in the foeman’s eyes.

As he stood at the prow of the Iron Victory watching One-Ear’s merchant ships vanish one by one into the west, the faces of the first foe he’d ever slain came back to Victarion Greyjoy. He thought of his first ship, of his first woman. A restlessness was in him, a hunger for the dawn, and things this day would bring. Death or glory, I will drink my fill of both today.

The Seastone Chair should have been his when Balon died, but his brother Euron had stolen it from him, just as he had stolen his wife many years before. He stole her and he soiled her, but he left it for me to slay her. All that was done and gone now, though. Victarion would have his due at last. I have the horn, and soon I will have the woman, a woman lovelier than the wife he made me kill.

‘Captain?’ The voice belonged to Longwater Pyke. ‘The oarsmen await your pleasure. Three of them, and strong ones.’

‘Send them to my cabin. I want the priest as well.’

The oarsmen were all big. One was a boy, one a brute, one a bastard’s bastard. The boy had been rowing for less than a year, the brute for twenty. They had names, but Victarion did not know them. One had come from Lamentation, one from Sparrowhawk, one from Spider Kiss. He could not be expected to know the names of every thrall who had ever pulled an oar in the Iron Fleet.

‘Show them the horn,’ he commanded, when the three had been ushered into his cabin. Moqorro brought it forth, and the dusky women lifted up a lantern to give them all a look. In the shifting lantern light the hellhorn seemed to writhe and turn in the priest’s hands, like a serpent fighting to escape. Moqorro was a man of monstrous size, big-bellied, broad-shouldered, towering, but even in his grasp the horn looked huge.

‘My brother found this thing on Valyria,’ Victarion told the thralls. ‘Think how big the dragon must have been, to bear two of these upon his head. Bigger than Vhagar or Meraxes. Bigger than Balerion the Black Dread.’ He took the horn from Moqorro and ran his palm along its curves. ‘At the kingsmoot on Old Wyk, one of Euron’s mutes blew upon this horn. Some of you will remember. It was not a sound that any man who heard it will ever forget.’

‘They say he died,’ the boy said. ‘Him who blew the horn.’

‘Aye. The horn was smoking after. The mute had blisters on his lips, and the bird inked across his chest was bleeding. He died the next day. When they cut him open his lungs were black.’

‘The horn is cursed,’ said the bastard’s bastard.

‘A dragon’s horn from Valyria,’ said Victarion. ‘Aye, it’s cursed. I never said it wasn’t.’ He brushed his hand across one of the red-gold bands, and the ancient glyphs seemed to sing beneath his fingertips. For half a heartbeat he wanted nothing so much as to sound the horn himself. Euron was a fool to give me this. It is a precious thing, and powerful. With this I’ll win the Seastone Chair, and then the Iron Throne. With this I’ll win the world.

‘Cragorn blew the horn thrice and died for it. He was as big as any of you, and strong as me. So strong that he could twist a man’s head right off his shoulders with only his bare hands, and yet the horn killed him.’

‘It’ll kill us too, then,’ said the boy.

Victarion did not oft forgive a thrall for talking out of turn, but the boy was young, no more than twenty, and soon to die besides. He let it pass. ‘The mute sounded the horn three times. You three will sound it only once. Might be you’ll die. Might be you won’t. All men die. The Iron Fleet is sailing into battle. Many on this very ship will be dead before the sun goes down, stabbed or slashed, gutted, drowned, burned alive. Only the gods know which of us will still be here come the morrow. Sound the horn and live, and I’ll make free men of you, one or two or all three. I’ll give you wives, a bit of land, a ship to sail, thralls of your own. Men will know your names.’

‘Even you, Lord Captain?’ asked the bastard’s bastard.

‘Aye.’

‘I’ll do it, then.’

‘And me,’ said the boy.

The brute crossed his arms and nodded.

If it made the three feel braver to believe they had a choice, let them cling to that. Victarion cared little what they believed; they were only thralls. ‘You will sail with me on the Iron Victory,’ he told them, ‘but you will not join the battle. Boy, you’re the youngest, you’ll sound the horn first. When the time comes you will blow it long and loud. They say you’re strong. Blow the horn until you’re too weak to stand, until the last bit of breath has been squeezed from you, until your lungs are burning. Let the freedmen hear you in Meereen, the slavers in Yunkai, the ghosts in Astapor. Let the monkeys shit themselves at the sound when it rolls across the Isle of Cedars. Then pass the horn along to the next man. Do you hear me? Do you know what to do?’

The boy and the bastard’s bastard tugged their forelocks. The brute might have done the same, but he was bald.

‘You may touch the horn. Then go.’

They left him one by one, the three thralls, and then Moqorro. Victarion would not let him take the hellhorn. ‘I will keep it here with me, until it’s needed.’

‘As you command. Would you have me bleed you?’

Victarion seized the dusky woman by the wrist and pulled her to him. ‘She will do it. Go pray to your red god. Light your fire, and tell me what you see.’

Moqorro’s dark eyes seemed to shine. ‘I see dragons.’

[vailpass]

Originally Posted by Hawk

Someone on Westeros.org posted the text of what he read, so here is the text for those who'd rather read it:

Spoiler!

The Noble Lady was a tub of a ship, as fat and wallowing as the noble ladies of the green lands. Her holds were huge, and Victarion packed them with armed men.

With her would sail the other, lesser, prizes that the Iron Fleet had taken on its long voyage to Slaver’s Bay; a lubbery assortment of cogs, greatcogs, carracks and trading galleys, salted here and there with fishing boats. It was a fleet both fat and feeble, promising much in the way of wool and wines and other trade goods, and little in the way of danger. Victarion gave the command of it to Wulfe One-Ear.

‘The slavers may shiver when they spy your sails rising from the sea,’ he told him, ‘but once they see you plain they will laugh at their fears. Traders and fishers, that’s all you are. Any man can see that. Let them get close as they like, but keep your men hidden below decks until you are ready. Then close and board them. Free the slaves and feed the slavers to the sea, but take the ships. We will have need of every hull to carry us back home.’

‘Home.’ Wulfe grinned. ‘The men’ll like the sound o’ that, Lord Captain.’

‘The ships first. Then we break these Yunkishmen.’

‘Aye.’

The Iron Victory was lashed alongside the Noble Lady, the two ships bound tight with chains and grappling hooks, a ladder stretched between them. The great cog was much larger than the warship and sat higher in the water; all along the gunwales the faces of the ironborn peered down, watching as Victarion clapped Wulfe One-Ear on the shoulder and sent him clambering up the ladder. The sea was smooth and still, the sky bright with stars. Wulfe ordered the ladder brought up, the chains cast off. The warship and the cog parted ways.

In the distance the rest of Victarion’s feigned fleet was raising sail. A ragged cheer went up from the crew of the Iron Victory, and was answered in kind by the men of the Noble Lady. Victarion had given Wulfe his best fighters. He envied them; they would be the first to strike a blow, the first to see that look of fear in the foeman’s eyes.

As he stood at the prow of the Iron Victory watching One-Ear’s merchant ships vanish one by one into the west, the faces of the first foe he’d ever slain came back to Victarion Greyjoy. He thought of his first ship, of his first woman. A restlessness was in him, a hunger for the dawn, and things this day would bring. Death or glory, I will drink my fill of both today.

The Seastone Chair should have been his when Balon died, but his brother Euron had stolen it from him, just as he had stolen his wife many years before. He stole her and he soiled her, but he left it for me to slay her. All that was done and gone now, though. Victarion would have his due at last. I have the horn, and soon I will have the woman, a woman lovelier than the wife he made me kill.

‘Captain?’ The voice belonged to Longwater Pyke. ‘The oarsmen await your pleasure. Three of them, and strong ones.’

‘Send them to my cabin. I want the priest as well.’

The oarsmen were all big. One was a boy, one a brute, one a bastard’s bastard. The boy had been rowing for less than a year, the brute for twenty. They had names, but Victarion did not know them. One had come from Lamentation, one from Sparrowhawk, one from Spider Kiss. He could not be expected to know the names of every thrall who had ever pulled an oar in the Iron Fleet.

‘Show them the horn,’ he commanded, when the three had been ushered into his cabin. Moqorro brought it forth, and the dusky women lifted up a lantern to give them all a look. In the shifting lantern light the hellhorn seemed to writhe and turn in the priest’s hands, like a serpent fighting to escape. Moqorro was a man of monstrous size, big-bellied, broad-shouldered, towering, but even in his grasp the horn looked huge.

‘My brother found this thing on Valyria,’ Victarion told the thralls. ‘Think how big the dragon must have been, to bear two of these upon his head. Bigger than Vhagar or Meraxes. Bigger than Balerion the Black Dread.’ He took the horn from Moqorro and ran his palm along its curves. ‘At the kingsmoot on Old Wyk, one of Euron’s mutes blew upon this horn. Some of you will remember. It was not a sound that any man who heard it will ever forget.’

‘They say he died,’ the boy said. ‘Him who blew the horn.’

‘Aye. The horn was smoking after. The mute had blisters on his lips, and the bird inked across his chest was bleeding. He died the next day. When they cut him open his lungs were black.’

‘The horn is cursed,’ said the bastard’s bastard.

‘A dragon’s horn from Valyria,’ said Victarion. ‘Aye, it’s cursed. I never said it wasn’t.’ He brushed his hand across one of the red-gold bands, and the ancient glyphs seemed to sing beneath his fingertips. For half a heartbeat he wanted nothing so much as to sound the horn himself. Euron was a fool to give me this. It is a precious thing, and powerful. With this I’ll win the Seastone Chair, and then the Iron Throne. With this I’ll win the world.

‘Cragorn blew the horn thrice and died for it. He was as big as any of you, and strong as me. So strong that he could twist a man’s head right off his shoulders with only his bare hands, and yet the horn killed him.’

‘It’ll kill us too, then,’ said the boy.

Victarion did not oft forgive a thrall for talking out of turn, but the boy was young, no more than twenty, and soon to die besides. He let it pass. ‘The mute sounded the horn three times. You three will sound it only once. Might be you’ll die. Might be you won’t. All men die. The Iron Fleet is sailing into battle. Many on this very ship will be dead before the sun goes down, stabbed or slashed, gutted, drowned, burned alive. Only the gods know which of us will still be here come the morrow. Sound the horn and live, and I’ll make free men of you, one or two or all three. I’ll give you wives, a bit of land, a ship to sail, thralls of your own. Men will know your names.’

‘Even you, Lord Captain?’ asked the bastard’s bastard.

‘Aye.’

‘I’ll do it, then.’

‘And me,’ said the boy.

The brute crossed his arms and nodded.

If it made the three feel braver to believe they had a choice, let them cling to that. Victarion cared little what they believed; they were only thralls. ‘You will sail with me on the Iron Victory,’ he told them, ‘but you will not join the battle. Boy, you’re the youngest, you’ll sound the horn first. When the time comes you will blow it long and loud. They say you’re strong. Blow the horn until you’re too weak to stand, until the last bit of breath has been squeezed from you, until your lungs are burning. Let the freedmen hear you in Meereen, the slavers in Yunkai, the ghosts in Astapor. Let the monkeys shit themselves at the sound when it rolls across the Isle of Cedars. Then pass the horn along to the next man. Do you hear me? Do you know what to do?’

The boy and the bastard’s bastard tugged their forelocks. The brute might have done the same, but he was bald.

‘You may touch the horn. Then go.’

They left him one by one, the three thralls, and then Moqorro. Victarion would not let him take the hellhorn. ‘I will keep it here with me, until it’s needed.’

‘As you command. Would you have me bleed you?’

Victarion seized the dusky woman by the wrist and pulled her to him. ‘She will do it. Go pray to your red god. Light your fire, and tell me what you see.’

Moqorro’s dark eyes seemed to shine. ‘I see dragons.’

Thanks. Things are coming to a head and no doubt about it. I don't root for the ironborn but I like Victarion.

[keg in kc]