Author Archives: Kevin McFadyen

About Kevin McFadyen

Kevin McFadyen is a world traveller, a poor eater, a happy napper and occasional writer. When not typing frivolously on a keyboard, he is forcing Kait to jump endlessly on her bum knees or attempting to sabotage Derek in the latest boardgame. He prefers Earl Gray to English Breakfast but has been considering whether or not he should adopt a crippling addiction to coffee instead. Happy now, Derek?

Roleplay or Foreplay?

I have sung the praises of Bethesda and their Elder Scrolls games before but as I work through the DLC for Skyrim, I feel a public service announcement is in order.

Never buy a Bethesda game at launch.

Not ever. I dutifully picked up Skyrim when it first came out in 2011 since I enjoyed Daggerfall and Oblivion as well as being generally excited for the game from its pre-release information. Fast forward three years and I finally purchased the Game of the Year edition because their stupid DLC never went on a decent sale. I could get the full game again with all the bells and whistles for less than two of their downloadable content. That’s simply inexcusable given that I even supported the developer at launch when those first sales are the greatest price and most important.

So never again. I’ll wait the year and a half to get your completed version on discount.

Images captured from Bethesda's Skyrim and taken by me.

Images captured from Bethesda’s Skyrim and taken by me. Also, Serana has the worst plans in the world.

Anyway, this is beside the point. I still enjoy Skyrim and the Elder Scrolls series. It’s one of my personal preeminent roleplaying game series. As I’ve said before, there is no matching the sense of being dropped in a fantastical world and the wonder or exploration you can feel while exploring its farthest corners on your own, personal adventures.

There is an ugly side, however. Whereas most my roleplaying games will sink or float based on their narrative, I spend most of my time in the Elder Scrolls trying ever so politely to ignore the writing. For the most part, I can do a decent job. The series is full of minor side quests which can eat an astonishing amount of time as you crawl through dank caverns and pull yourself up to astonishing vistas. Who cares if the woman sending you half across the province in search of her husband’s amulet has neither character nor charm? I’m on top of the world battling dragons, trolls and brigands!

Unless, of course, you’re doing a DLC adventure. No one would ever argue that the main questline of an Elder Scrolls game was ever noteworthy. In fact, the best I can say about the writing in Oblivion was that the Dark Brotherhood storyline was “not bad.” That’s truly the greatest praise you can offer. Unfortunately, the DLC seems to only offer main quest line content.

Well, it’s all side questing to be fair. And Hearthfire is, perhaps, the more excusable content. Hearthfire gives you the lovely option to build a house instead of purchasing the prefabricated ones that launched in the game. Granted, you could do that with some very clever mods, but there was also the ability to adopt children included which is what truly made the game. So, I really like Hearthfire and it’s sob story orphans which are sprinkled across all the holds in Ice Age Tamriel.

Classic example where meta-knowledge dictates that there are no negative outcomes to a suggestion which has no good rationale behind it

Classic example where meta-knowledge dictates that there are no negative outcomes to a suggestion which has no good rationale behind it

Dawnguard, unfortunately, went a more narrative approach. There is no other way to say it–it is awful. When the developers moved the focus to their writing, the product truly struggles. Lengthy, involved questlines were never the series strong points and Dawnguard follows the tangential struggle of the titular organization as they attempt to rally support and resources to confront a rising vampire menace. The player is thrust into the middle of the conflict, initially through constant waylaying of devious vampires dressed in their adversaries garb (though always conspicuously standing over dead, stripped bodies making their ruse near immediately foiled) waiting along roadsides at random intervals. If the player wishes to end these random encounters, they’re encouraged by town guard to head towards Fort Dawnguard and seek out its leader, Isran.

When done, the player finds a cliched, grissled and wizened man who has lost near his family and friends due to his single-minded pursuit in ridding the world of all vampires. A noble aspiration, to be sure, but one that would have sounded pretty cracked urned had the player not been tripping over vampire corpses on the way to the fort. But the very first mission Isran tasks you with reveals why the Elder Scrolls is so bad at doing any sort of real narrative.

When tasked with discovering what happened to the Hall of the Vigilant (the original vampire hunters before Dawnguard was delivered), the player discovers an ancient ruin with a cadre of vampires searching it for… something. Of course, the player murders them all and discovers the secret box in the centre and I was legitimately surprised to see that it held a woman.

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Intimate. Like those three times I bumped into vampires on the road and they accidentally infected me while I was cutting off their heads.

I was less surprised when this woman turned out to be a nagging clinger who was required to hook on to all of your quests as it followed whatever frustratingly boring family issues she had. Any time Serana opens her mouth, it’s like I’m being transported into a modern BioWare game dripping with cliches and shallow writing. The girl immediately requests you escort her home because it’s late and she’s out well beyond curfew. When you arrive to the soaring Gothic stronghold, no one is surprised to learn Serana’s father is the epitomous Lord Harkon and the villain of the DLC storyline. The man spends about one minute extolling the virtues of being a giant vampire jerk and offers to induct you into his court as a new vampire lackey.

So, immediately, whatever pretense of a story is shattered as the very first mission reward is the game blatantly asking you “Do you want to be a badass vampire or a badass vampire hunter?” I went with hunter because the thought of having to bomb around at night looking for pointless victims to suck their blood in order to keep myself from looking like I’m not some mythical monster that needs immediate execution the moment I look towards a town did not appeal. Course, stupid Serana immediately whisks after me to Fort Dawnguard to stop her father from twirling his mustachio over whatever silly “dark and emo” plan he’s hatched.

I’m just going to say it: vampires are stupid. I’ve only ever seen them handled well once and that was in Vampire the Masquerade. But VtM does something different with vampires that most people forget or ignore: they treat it like a curse. Sure, you get badass powers and immortality but the game’s core mechanics run around how much being a vampire truly sucks as you’re caught now in an intricate web of vampire politics and the ever growing sense that everything that kept you humane and moral is being slowly eroded away in the very act of simply surviving. No, most people prefer to lean on the “dark and sexy” motif of vampire culture and anytime they appear I feel like I’m stuck hanging out with the goth kids in high school again who want to sit around in their black fishnets writing bad poetry about how much the world misunderstands them.

Dawnguard falls directly in that category, in case you’re wondering.

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Is that romance in the air? Or the lingering stench of a portal to hell and the decade old rot of failed necromantic experiments?

Seriously, Serana’s whole storyline is about how much her parents “don’t get her” and spend all their time telling her what to do and not letting her do what she wants to do. I hate her, her teenage angst and the fact that she’s awful at holding enemy aggression while I’m playing on Legendary difficulty because all she does is sparkle the villains with her stupid red glitter.

I also hate how the game very blatantly writes in a romance option for her and that I mindlessly click on it every time.

I can thank BioWare for that instinct but, truly, it’s a problem with modern game design in general. From Persona to Dragon Age, players are encouraged to whisper honeyed words into the ears of their companions until they have a veritable harem tripping at their feet. Weirdly, as our technology gets better, our ability to simulate interactions get worse. Moral decisions have devolved into basic “good” vs “evil” binary choices. If you’re given a choice at all, of course. Skyrim doesn’t offer any true decisions beyond whether you want to do a quest or not. If you get a choice, however, there’s no functional difference between them. Say, I tell a woman I’ll find her cat out of the goodness of my heart, I’ll be rewarded just as well as if I blackmailed her with embarrassing photos of her kitty in sweaters prior to locating the animal.

Thus, I would be surprised if the vast, vast majority of people didn’t always take the “good” option when given a choice. There’s no negative so why not be heroic and paid for it? Furthermore, when given the option, why not be nice to your companions when given the opportunity? If it is a BioWare game, I’ll likely be able to level up their stats, get better equipment or some other tangible result by telling them what they want to hear. I don’t know what will happen if I keep flirting with Serana but I heavily suspect that I’ll be able to convince her to cure herself of her vampirism if I keep it up.

I’ll probably get a sweet bow too.

And this brings me to the reason I wrote this post in the first place. I’ve just met Serana’s mom (because yes, we’re that far along in our relationship) and had probably the most eye rolling moment ever in my 200 hours of puttering around in Skyrim. Serana’s mom decided to give me a lecture on the value of my word because I’m a vampire hunter and she can’t truly trust me that I have Serana’s best interests at heart because I make a living hunting vampires.

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Coming from a woman who feeds off the blood of defenceless rabble and locks her doors with their still warm intestines, I don’t think you know what noble means.

I wish I were joke. A vampire was trying to frame the moral narrative as though I were the oppressor and she some poor, innocent minority just trying to make her way in life beneath my brutality and wickedness. A VAMPIRE. That’s how lazy we’ve become in our narrative writing. The writers seem to be simply on auto-pilot here, feeling as though they need some perspective twist or raising of the stakes. It’s so bizarre and tone-ignorant of their own work as the character had literally just finished telling me about how she chose to be a vampire after dedicating her life to a demon prince that extols the virtues of murder and slavery. I just came from your house, woman, where you decided entrails and viscera made lovely floor decor! Oh, how tragic that some uppity human would consider the mindless, uncaring slaughter of their kind as an offense which needs to be curbed and stamped out. In fact, I don’t even need to murder you since getting vampirism cured in the Elder Scrolls is generally as easy as walking up to a statue and rubbing your face against it!

And of course, throughout this discourse I chose the options wherein I assuaged her concerns over my intentions for her daughter and promised I’d free her of her imprisonment and vanquish her murderous husband so she can return to her quiet life of necromancy and trying to sell innocent souls to otherworldly masters in exchange for power. Had this been anyone else at the helm, this script would be satirical and subversive of genre tropes. But it’s not and it makes its quality all the more painful. At least with the awful main quest, I intersperse it with twenty hours of murdering cave elves.

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How could I ever misconstrue you offering the souls of tons of innocent people to a bunch of floating, life sucking crystals in a plane of endless darkness and bone as evil? How judgmental of me!

While I’d love for sweeping changes to how narratives are valued and viewed across the industry, I think the easiest first step would be to address simple interactions. Look, if we’re going to have mindless “good response/bad response” then at least have our NPCs react to them differently. If I live in a world and someone offers to go find me the loveliest mammoth tusk in the steppes, why am I going to turn around and pay them as much gold as it would cost to get the damn thing from the shop two feet from where I spend my hour lunch? No, if my adventurers are stupid enough to not negotiate a reward, then NPCs should undervalue their service. You want to be appropriately reimbursed for your work then you’re not a hero: you’re a mercenary. And if you’re going to sweet talk every girl that walks by, you’re not a charmer: you’re a womanizing creep.

It’s high time that the game started treating us as the monsters we are. Maybe then developers will be forced to make their actual monsters terrifying in order to compete.

 

Building Character

Well, I’ve been on such a roll with generic writing advice, it’s time for another post about it! Yes, this also means I don’t have anything else to talk about! How astute!

Derek has been experiencing the joys of labour unions and during his civil duties he’s bemoaned of how tiring and exhausting he finds them. I don’t really have anywhere to go from this statement other than I wanted to record for posterity the minute struggles with plague my reticent co-contributor. Now the Internet shall forever know your day to day struggles. Also, you’re getting destroyed by Adam in Terra Mystica. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed.

Of course, in my desperate attempt to perform the perfunctory requirements of social empathy, I encouraged Derek that his struggles build character. And, in literature, no truer statement can be made. I know this is pretty beginner advice but it’s remarkable how often this tiny detail crops up during the creation or editing phase of writing. We readers are malicious sorts. We expect, nay, demand stress and ill-will towards our most cherished characters. Imagine how dreadful The Lord of the Rings would have been if Frodo had decided to stay home and simply attend his garden with nary a trouble to shadow his door outside of a tobacco addled old man too easily shooed from the porch. I mean, Samwise waxes for five pages over rabbit stew, I really don’t think the audience would have the attention to outlast five hundred pages of rusty hoes and spreading manure.

No, it’s the mental and physical anguish which makes the story. It’s the building jealousy and paranoia towards his best friend–fueled by the dire whispers of the demented Smeagol–that keep us glued to the pages and turning each one. Conflict drives narrative. This is perhaps as basic a tenant one could get for writing. But not all conflict is created equal. An unruly garden certainly produces conflict. I’ve seen my sister attempt her green thumb during the summer. There’s lots of reticence to be overcome through dry weather, scavenging pests and determined plants who refuse to sprout in their optimal time. And yet, I’d wager that audiences would be grabbing for the story about a midget driven mad by a gold ring every time.

Accessed from http://www.wga.hu/framex-e.html?file=html/d/duyster/cardplay.html

Card-Playing Soldiers by Willem Cornelisz Duyster (1625-1630).

I’ve spoken at length about how self-insertion into one’s own work can be ruinous and I think part of the problem stems from the selfish desire to portray oneself in as positive a light as possible. In this way, the Mary Sue character takes on ubermensch-esque proportions where everything about them is perfect and their only struggle is against a world which does not appreciate or actively undermines through immeasurable jealousy the simple hopes and aspirations of this perfected self. The problem is that literature is not a job interview and there is no prize for portraying yourself in as perfect a light as possible. In fact, it mostly drives people away with how ludicrous the narrative becomes.

And it’s because the trials the Mary Sue faces are so… impersonal. I don’t mean to say that their rivals are unknown to the character but that there’s so little actually involved of the protagonist in these tales. Truly, the best conflict strikes deep at our main character and plays upon the most buried and repressed aspects of our protagonist. It’s when conflict aligns to the core flaws of our heroes that stories carry the greatest weight. Literature studies are drowning in such examples. Hamlet isn’t about the usurping Claudius as it is about the ineffectual and maddeningly indecisive titular character. Albeit, this shift from pure plot to character is no doubt a product of a modern shift to the unconscious drives and aspects of our psyche (sorry, I’ll try to keep psychology out of these discussions as best I can).

Recently, I’ve been reading the Lies of Locke Lamora which I’ve been reluctant to comment on until I’ve finished. However, the one aspect that really stands out to me for the novel is how rather unmotivating the whole affair really is for the main character. The book follows the roguish Locke who is a master thief in a city of thieves. The tale mostly revolves around his major caper of conning a wealthy nobleman of his money over some fabricated brewery dispute. Things then happen. It’s been taking me forever to finish the book because I’m simply disinterested in the tale. I can’t get into it because Locke himself is so not into it. I’m halfway through the story and Locke’s coterie of rogues keep asking him why he doesn’t bother running from the trouble and, truly, the reasons Locke produces for remaining involved are as unconvincing to me as they are to the character himself. Locke is, essentially, flawless and the story has no pulls into his flaws. He isn’t driven by a self destructing avarice or pride that forces him to remain in continually disadvantageous positions out of a desperate need to satiate his ego’s needs. Instead, he lingers in the building conflict of the city… because… well, he simply has nothing better to do. It’s much like the whole reason he keeps at his crimes–it’s not for a want of money as the author went to great pains to detail how stupidly wealthy the character is. He’s there because if he weren’t, there would be no story. It’s as simple as that.

I’m bored because Locke’s bored. There’s an earnestness to the tale which strives so hard to intrigue through political maneuvers and wondrous site-seeing but it fails on the core aspect of tales: character. And character is, perhaps, the universal constant in the stories which hold our interests. Its what keeps workers at the water cooler, gossiping about their colleagues weekends. And if you keep an ear to people’s gossip, no one ever focuses in on the perfect, unassailable qualities of an individual. No, it’s those dirty, dark actions, attitudes or behaviours which keep us engaged. We want to see failure since it’s the only way that success is ever rewarding. In a sense, the only difference between comedy and tragedy is that when the protagonist falls on his sword in a comedy, he rolls over to simply reveal it for an embarrassing flesh wound.

Surviving the Spotlight

Years ago, I wrote a brief piece on the cliché Mary Sue character that is epidemic in amateur writing and first stories. I touched briefly on my own perspective and philosophy concerning the Mary Sue and how I, ultimately, see it as a destructive component of an author’s work that detracts from all the constituent components in order to singularly highlight one, self-serving aspect. The Mary Sue was a problem because the Mary Sue made flat all her co-cast in order for her to shine.

Well, the other night, Derek–possessed by equal parts fever induced madness and frivolous need for a short respite from work–went poking around the recesses of the Internet in search of an old online game that both of us had once been participants. This was a play by email, homebrewed role-playing game that involved sending the owner and creator set moves for our characters to perform and then waiting the prerequisite time for those moves to complete before engaging in another activity. Hell, had the game master been savvy enough, he could have introduced a way to purchase “training boosts” and single handedly given rise to the free-to-play format that’s grabbed the modern video game industry in a choke hold. But that’s beside the point.

Accessed from http://www.wga.hu/framex-e.html?file=html/a/arcimbol/4composi/7cook1.html

The Cook by Guiseppe Arcimboldo (1570).

The most interesting part of this game was a small contribution from the game master wherein he ran global events wherein anyone could participate and gain rewards while interacting with the other characters. Since this game was conducted in high school, favouritism and fanboyism were rampant in equal measure. However, the unexpected introduction of the game master’s shitty involvement was that it inevitably lead to the players splitting, interacting and forming their own factions within the game. In truth, the game master could have simply served as a neutral arbitrator and never once introduced a stupid narrative to the game and us players would have woven our own story complete with betrayal, heroism, mustache twirling villains and underdogs fighting against all odds. Some of the more… literally inclined also took to the forms to write far more words to explain “Learns Tri-Form” truly required.

Of course, I was one of those nerds but–thankfully–I was not alone. I remember a budding rivalry between myself and Dan as he squared off his fledgling army of soldiers in a Band of Brothers-esque tale of camaraderie as he took on the megalithic global corporation that was my character’s domain which had its sights on eliminating the super soldier threat from the face of the earth so that its super weapons would skyrocket in value and demand. Obviously, to demonstrate the power of my weapons I first had to go and murder a few upstart super soldiers which brought me into direct conflict with Derek and Rob’s characters who were trying to do… well, we never found out because I put them ten feet in the ground and had to listen to a week of Rob’s complaints about my traitorous ways. Course, if he’d just read my character introduction, he would have known better than to try and train in a remote monastery near my headquarters but, alas, literacy was not high on his priorities.

Okay, so where am I going with this? Well, Derek (for whatever impenetrable reason) wanted to see if there was an archive of our teenage foibles. What he found, instead, was a treasure trove of a very different sort.

As it turns out, the game lived on its creator’s mind as well who took it upon himself to start turning his game world into a series of novels of which I will leave Derek to reveal should he ever decide he wants to post on this site again. There was a tantalizing preview and suffice to say, Derek was eager to get a hold of a copy for himself. Alas, if only he showed this much enthusiasm for my writing.

Accessed from http://www.wga.hu/framex-e.html?file=html/b/beaux/birds.html

Charles Sumner Bird and His Sister Edith Bird Bass by Cecilia Beaux (1907).

So what does this have to do with character creation? Well, the preview with which I was entreated had a rather entertaining meeting between the protagonist and… someone who seems important but was impossible to parse their exact role in the narrative from the short section. This section, once again, reminded me of the Mary Sue problem. The author seemed to struggle with the vexing problem of conveying threat and weight of this meeting with some supposedly intimidating character while also demonstrating just how awesome his main character was at the same time. Thus, we lengthy description of how the protagonist was both flippant and anxious, struck dumb by the sheer presence of his contemporary and immediately dismissing him and his work as irrelevant. It was a baffling series of contradictions that failed to either establish one character’s legitimate threat to the world or the character whilst simultaneously failing to make the protagonist any more likable, sympathetic or engaging in any manner.

Given the circumstances, I am loathe to denounce the story as being a true Mary Sue–I have not read it and to outright condemn it on such a short preview would be unjust. However, it did make me pause and consider my own work as these circumstances always do. Once again, I feel as though I don’t stumble into that very common pitfall but I did recall my sister’s concerns that she was ill-equipped to avoid such widespread mistakes in her own writing. So, what method do I employ to ensure that my characters are not flat and self-serving?

Truly, I feel my interest and experience in both theatre and psychology were some of the best preparatory measures I could take. Theatre you learn to remove yourself from your stage persona. I was taught techniques to search within my own experiences for some common ground which I shared with the character I was portraying and, from there, extrapolate new mannerisms, thoughts and reactions. Psychology further boosted this method as I was educated on the way people think and the various differences in cognitive biases and perceptions which shape the different reactions people will have to the same stimuli. Ultimately, I developed an interest in how people think and this interest naturally leads to characters that are less enslaved by the narrative requirements of the story and are capable of exerting more engaging, developed and well-rounded behaviours.

In short, all the characters I write are characters which are intrinsically interesting to me as an author. I never put a character in to solely serve a narrative purpose–whether that would be to make my character look more courageous, more clever or more fit than his compatriots. In fact, I tend to focus on ensemble pieces which lets me explore many different personalities. Lots of my conflict arises not from story needed elements but by the clash of strong personalities with goals at odds to their fellows. I never have that one character who I obviously adore above all others and lavish more attention and heroism upon. All the creations in my stories are my children and I do my damnedest to not play favourites.

Accessed from http://www.wga.hu/framex-e.html?file=html/a/aachen/j_couple.html

Joking Couple by Hans van Aachen (1552-1615).

Which isn’t to say that I don’t like some characters more than others. To say otherwise would be a lie. In my first novel–of the main cast–I was most fond of the wealthy but infinitely bored Theodosius and Isabella. Theo’s antics were always more enjoyable to write than the plodding and melancholic self-turmoil of Jarret. And the selfishness of Theo and Isabella was perhaps the greatest when the two were together–each seeing in the other a worthy competitor for their own whimsical obsessions but both woefully blind to how irrelevant their petty desires truly were. And, by the end, Theodosius faded into the background as he slowly began to realize that the story wasn’t truly about him. There was an almost humbling moment when at last he confronted just how unnecessary he was to the troubles surrounding him right before he bowed off the stage.

But how was I capable of avoiding making Theo the star of the story and everyone else a shade there to colour the background of his adventures? I think one of the best tools a beginning author can do is force themselves to write sections or chapters from their other characters. I did this a lot with my early work and most of this writing was either irrelevant to the story or ultimately cut altogether. However, I always enjoyed these exercises. It brought the characters to life in my mind so that, even when I wasn’t writing from a pseudo-omniscient perspective right outside their head, I knew how they’d react when the principle characters interacted with them. When you read interviews with authors, many will often comment on how they get surprised by the actions of their characters–seemingly behaving in ways they had not anticipated and taking the story in new avenues it was never meant to explore. I think this is only possible when you make your characters truly alive and able to free themselves from the puppet strings you–as the author–invariably hold over them. When you stop picturing scenes as “this is the moment the villain is going to threaten my hero and raise the stakes” and start thinking “Padma isn’t going to tell Ed anything and only entertains this interview because she’s required by law and she’s going to make certain that the erstwhile detective knows that” then you’ll start having curious conversations about classic patriotic paintings instead of dead bodies. Conversations become duels instead of set pieces with your participants giving and taking in ways neither you and, consequently, your readers will ever anticipate.

And when you give time for all your characters to shine then your work feels so much more alive. More than anything, I think that’s what theatre taught me. No production is truly a singular work and it’s important to let every actor have his time to shine in the limelight.

7cook1So, if you’re a starting writer and are worried that your main character is too “you” and that the rest of your world is flat then do this. Open a new document, take your latest character introduced and write the scene you just wrote from their perspective. Why did they say those things to your character? What are they thinking about? What do they think of this character in front of them? Are they engaged with this moment? Do they have other characters in their life that are more pressing to them? Do a quick short where they are the star and the world revolves around them. Figure out what makes them tick. Figure out what motivates them. Figure out if, maybe, they they don’t truly think what you thought they did about your main character.

Then go back and see if maybe, just maybe, they would say things differently now that they have a new perspective on your character.

All the King’s Horses

Let’s discuss Samuel L Jackson.

I’m a big fan of his work. He’s entertaining, affable and features in movies that are generally interesting if not wholly within genres which I adore. And, really, all it takes is for one to watch Snakes on a Plane to just realize how amazing he is. However, he’s highly prolific with a resume which includes such diversity as Patriot GamesPulp FictionThe Star Wars PrequelsUnbreakableDie Hard with a VengeanceCaptain America: Winter SoldierJurassic Park and Jackie Brown.

I mean, that’s an impressive list of a handful from the 100 films in which he’s credited. And, of course, do people even remember that he was also in Jumper or Inglorious Basterds? And yet, despite his proclivity, you never really hear him considered one of the greatest actors. Has he even achieved an Academy Award? I can’t think of him being nominated but perhaps he got some recognition for Pulp Fiction?  That movie got a lot of recognition, I think. But while he’s not considered a truly talented actor, he’s neither considered terrible either. He’s no Nicky Cage (and really, who is?). So what happened? How does this man–who delivers pretty solid performances near in and out whenever he’s cast and is clearly held in high regard both by fans and producers given how much work he gets–get so little accolades?

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Who knew Colin Firth would make such a charming action hero?

Well, looking over the large number of roles he does, Samuel L Jackson appears to have a tendency for being typecasted. I know I had this conversation with Derek after watching a movie–I can’t remember which but choose one of his many 100 appearances–where we felt that Samuel L Jackson was just not utilized as best he could. Looking at the Star Wars prequels and you can see perhaps his blandest performance (which isn’t a knock against the guy, no one comes out looking good from the Prequels). I remember Derek commenting that Samuel L Jackson just isn’t achieving his greatest potential if he isn’t being angry and swearing. And there really isn’t any reason for you to watch Snakes on a Plane than that reason alone.

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Kingsman: The Secret Service belongs to Dave Gibbons and Mark Millar while the movie is credited to Matthew Vaughn, Marv Films and 20th Century Fox.

So where is this ramble leading? Well, I recently watched Kingsman: The Secret Service.

If you haven’t seen the advertisements, then you would not be aware that Jackson is casted as the titular villain Richmond Valentine. And here we see a side of Samuel L Jackson that has never been known: a haemophobic, eccentric, lispy cellular phone billionaire with a strong gag reflex whenever faced with excessive violence. It’s so not Samuel L Jackson and perhaps that’s what makes it so damn fun when you’re watching it. It’s hard not to like the stupidity of his character, especially during perhaps the best use of product placement in the last couple of years when villainous Valentine welcomes undercover Colin Firth to his opulent mansion in order to wheel out a smörgåsbord of McDonald’s happy meals resplendent in their fine silver accoutrements. His character is flippant and irrelevant which, perhaps, is the best way to describe the film over all.

Kingsman is fun but it is not without its flaws. What you may think is a spoof on the spy genre flirts too much with taking itself too seriously to be simple parody. It also dwells far too long on the personal development of young Eggsy Unwin as he’s recruited to the fantastically silly tailors turned independent spy agency. As much as young Taron Egerton tries to sell the part, no one is watching the film for him or his clichéd character arc. We are warming seats with our bums to see Colin Firth, Samuel L Jackson and Michael Caine chew the scenery as they play atypical roles that we’re used to the old timers adopt like a comfy pair of clothes. The fun of Kingsman is in the tongue-in-cheek use of these highly acclaimed performers living up the ludicrousness of the comic book world and clearly having a party while doing it.

And it’s this tonal inconsistency that really pulls people from it. There’s one word of warning I have for the film and that it is excessively violent. Part of the interest in the film is its Guy Ritchie-esque fight scenes that, while filmed in an interesting manner, are incredibly violent. Unfortunately, this hyper-violence isn’t used to any powerful end. It’s much like it’s headlining actors and there for simple amusement and nothing else. Which isn’t to say that movies can’t be stupid fun but then why detract from that with the overdrawn training plot for Egerton?

Ultimately, I think the greatest issues of the movie derive from its comic book origins. I haven’t read the comic but there’s no argument that the medium struggles with its high fantasy elements trying desperately to be grounded in a bizarre pseudo-reality that always comes across as disingenuous and jarring when adopted to anything that isn’t inked and coloured panels. We also have fairly flimsy characters espousing silly nonsense about knights of the round table all the while discussing the merits of free cellphone coverage that invariably leads to mustachio-twirling attempts to take over the world. You can’t take the story seriously, ever, even when its try its darnedest for you to feel concern over bug-eyed pugs.

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And who knew that this image would be so common when looking up the film?

Furthermore, instead of ending the show on a happy note, I couldn’t help but worry that this was just the beginning in yet the unrelenting deluge of vapid comic book culture which has gripped our society. Kingsman is best as a one off–a sugary side dish that was silly and fun but not something you pull out every Friday when you’re desperate for a meal. However, it is almost a looming inevitability that there will be a sequel and, given the development of the movie’s plot, I can see no reason why I would want a Kingsman II or III. There’s very little direction I can see it going and all its best parts will be absent. For all the enjoyment I had for it, the movie is still shallow and fleeting. It’s a good pun which you grin at when your friend first makes it but as you do so you just know it’s going to be driven into the ground as your friend repeats it constantly for the next few weeks until he gets distracted by some other new meme.

Worst Writing Suggestion Ever

It’s rant day! How excited are you? I can only assume “very.”

Today, I’m going to weigh in on something in which I actually have some qualifications and expertise. While normally I’m just shooting off my opinion, as half or full-baked as it may be, this time I’m going to address a common writing saying. Everyone’s heard it, even if no one really knows who first coined it. It’s the sort of writing advice which would paralyze beginners and be brought up to defend questionable output or design instead of offering any help in furthering or improving its craft.

Accessed from http://www.wga.hu/frames-e.html?/html/s/serov/index.html

Portrait of Princess Yusupova by Valentin Serov (1902).

I am, of course, talking about “Write what you know.”

It seems so simple and innocuous on the surface. Clearly, if you write what you know then you’ll produce detailed and accurate events and characters. We’ve all experienced writing on a topic clearly well beyond the author’s grasp. Anyone with any background in the sciences needs to have a very good sense of humour whenever a movie or television show covers something remotely scientific. Computers fare no better and Hollywood’s vision of hacking is as quaint as it is inaccurate. Thus, if ignorant writing produces inauthentic material, clearly knowledgeable writing produces the opposite.

And this line of thinking is a trap. Writing isn’t some vaguely masked autobiographical account. Writers are not constrained by their own backgrounds and upbringings. Would this be the case, the entire literary field would be near obliterated. Speculative fiction would not exist. Even more offensive is when this adage is trotted out to defend discriminatory products. I’ve probably seen this tired saying more often in discourses questioning the lack of diversity in a piece of fiction than in any other circumstance. The argument, as it goes, is generally raised as a way to silence critics. “Clearly the author must have a male protagonist because he is a male himself. He doesn’t know what it is like to be a woman. If we want more female protagonists then we need more female writers.” This line, of course, extends to just about any minority or individual who would raise questions against the status quo.

I think it’s most telling that you hardly ever see writers themselves say this. And understandably so–if I were to hear an author echo this sentiment then I would consider it a self-confession of their own inability to perform the basic requirements of their craft and to out themselves as the sub-par and talentless hack that they must surely be. It’s an illogical and downright offensive kind of argument. It belittles the efforts of people in the field and, truly, insults the intelligence of its readership. Only a moments consideration reveals this nonsense for the extreme absurdity that it is. I mean, can we truly imagine a world where artists were constrained in such a binding manner. All works would be mono-gendered. One couldn’t write about a parent without actually having a child themselves. Every character would be employed in the same business and pretty much every book would be covering the anguishes of the writer and the turmoils of writer’s block. Clearly, I will never know what it is like to be a mother so I must surely be unable to write a mother at all in my stories. I’ve never had a twin, so that option is off the docket. And you can forget about having any character who doesn’t have a father that’s an alcoholic.

Accessed from http://www.wga.hu/frames-e.html?/html/s/serov/index.html

Two Boys by Valentin Serov (1899).

Clearly, this isn’t the intention of the defence but no matter how hard you try to scale it back it never, ever makes a lick of sense. Why should I not be allowed to write about Judaism or have a character who’s a Tibetan in my story because I’ve not been one? The stalwart defenders of this position would have you believe that the core experience of people from other backgrounds is wholly intrinsic to those experiences. It is, in essence, that being Asian is the entirety of one’s being and something impossible and inscrutable to those who are not one. Surely, a white person can not know all the struggles and minutia of the difficulties of a black person in growing up under a system of institutionalized racism and thus it is a topic which they can never weigh in on.  It’s the worst possible argument because it almost sounds like it’s reasonable despite being completely idiotic. The argument supports the insidious idea that there is a “standard” or “normal” experience and that all minorities are exempt from it and majorities are likewise locked into it. Being white isn’t particularly fundamental to the vast majority of western characters since that is just the natural way of life. It’s once you change the colour of their skin or what-have-you that now suddenly they are some mythical “other” whose voice can only, truly, be captured by one who has walked this unique path.

Yes, I’ve mostly seen the “write what you” cliché when it crops up in minority discussions. And, just as I prefaced this rant, it’s ludicrous when you take a moment to consider it in its entirety. We’re not looking for stories solely filled with carbon copy men who have all had the exact same upbringing. If my experiences as a son can allow me to infer what it was like for my mother to raise me and draw that as inspiration for a character, then surely I can apply my experiences as a white person and infer the differences and challenges which someone of a different skin colour would experience. Ultimately, this is the work of an author. In fact, self-insertion is considered probably the worst form of writing that one can do. The Mary-Sue is a derided concept for a reason. And the fact I must write a rant upon this subject is almost depressing. There’s as long a history as it is proud of authors writing well beyond what they could possibly know. There’s George Eliot’s Silas Marner, Murasaki Shikibu’s The Tale of Genji, Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales… I mean I could go on and on and it’s patently ridiculous to think that anyone would consider stories from a perspective not your own as unachievable.

Let’s face it, it’s an excuse and nothing more. It’s held up as some sort of codified artistic creed to forgive the fact that there is a lot of lazy writing floating throughout time. If an author truly felt that they could not cover an experience beyond their own because they so feared creating an offensive stereotype, then how are we to be assured that what they are writing now isn’t riddled with clichéd stereotypes?

Accessed from http://www.wga.hu/frames-e.html?/html/s/serov/index.html

Portrait of Princes Orlova by Valentin Serov (1911).

The true adage which a writer should hold is not “Write what you know” but “Know what you write.”

If you’re going to create a character that steps outside your own experience, you don’t throw up your hands and claim it’s an impossibility. You do that far worse word–research. If I want to explore the hardships of a minority living a life of oppression, I should investigate what that life would be like. I should read up about institutionalized discrimination. I should interview or find interviews with said people. We live in the Information Age–for crying out loud–getting a deeper understanding of experiences beyond our own has never been easier.

But more than that, an author should be aware of what their work is communicating. I know everyone’s probably tired of me ragging on Name of the Wind but like I said in my original piece, I don’t believe that Rothfuss is a misogynist. He simply fell into the trap of not being aware exactly the context of his words. I believe he didn’t include a well developed female character–not because he doesn’t believe that women can’t be equal or powerful–but simply because he didn’t think of it at all. He probably also failed to recognize that every single one of his female characters served singularly sexual needs for other male characters. He likely got trapped in his own perspective and wrote a little too much about what he knows.

So, when going over your words and considering the characters and situations you’ve created, it’s imperative that as a responsible writer you come at it with just as critical an eye as critic. You’re not being judged solely on your apparent knowledge of magic, science, social organization or espionage but on the prevalent themes and motifs you cover as well as how your work fits into the paradigm of your times. If you don’t know what you’re truly writing, then you are the writer that needs to hone your craft. And the first step is probably to start learning some of that stuff that you don’t know.

The Glorious Belt Bridge

Well, I’m afraid there’s not much new to report to you, kind reader. We’ve all been busy and, well, I’m running desperately out of things to post. So, instead, I’ll just throw up one of the little things I’m working on. This isn’t one of the short stories, by the by, but a sneak peek at the big novel! Well… one of the big novels. Well… it’s a novel at the very least.

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Accessed from http://www.wga.hu/framex-e.html?file=html/e/ender/thomas/ender03.html

The Pieniny Mountains with the Dunajec River by Thomas Ender (1860).

His hair was driven by the wind’s slaving hand, lashing his face with wide, blonde strands. That heavenly howl tore amongst a canyon so ripped into the red rock as to tear a great gash across the flesh of the earth. Scarlet soil spilt forth. It was the blood of the land and despite its age it continued to seep down its banks, drowning the scrub and sickle trees clutching to bare stones hanging over precipitous nothingness. The savages said it was cleaved in the formation of the world and forever would it bleed so long as man raised hand against his own.

Hopkins smiled at the thought.

If there was one constant amongst the savages, it was their damnable love for blood. It was an admirable quality in a peoples lacking just about everything else.

Beneath his legs, his steed gave a warning cry—slowing its pace as it drew up the dusty trail. Its nostrils flared with some foreign scent. He reigned her in, slowing to a gentle canter as eyes darted amongst the craggy stones. His hand fled to the pistol at his side while another raised to slow the entourage behind him. This would not be the first ambush from which he would walk away.

But no rifles cracked nor burnt powder stung the air as he rounded the crest. Hopkins continued, his eyes falling upon the great bridge spanning the chasm.

There she stood.

She was as still as the great canyon’s sides, unflinching and eternal. Her long coat caught about her, snapping like the jaws of a hungry dog. The great brim of her hat fluttered as though it were the wings of a bird seeking freedom in the crystal blue sky above. Her fingers held true to the cold steel of the trigger and polished wood of the longrifle’s simple stock. The hammer lay cocked and the trigger primed. A single long braid gathered behind her, catching in the wind like an old battle standard raised with weary arms for one last stand.

Was this all the impeded the tail end of his escape? Hopkins had been told the job would be easy. True to form, the cache offered little resistance and what few guards stood were easily overcome. And now, nary but a girl pretending at being some hard cut frontiersman was all that remained between him and precious freedom on the canyon’s opposite end.

Hopkins spent one quick glance at the men following. He knew none of them but there were grins or raised brows all-around at the sight of the lone girl. Hopkins raised his pistol, giving a great shout as he kicked his steed into a full charge. The others followed.

Still she stood like a feature of that expansive landmark with nothing but the wilds gathering about her. She sought no shelter from the worn ropes and weathered wood slowly giving over to burnished steel. Temporary towers stood unmanned, their simple cranes and suspenders groaned in the tossing breath of the canyon. The Glorious Belt Bridge was undergoing a remarkable transformation. For a bridge that had been near forgotten to the long decades since its construction, it was now half-cast in fresh iron with lines of new posts and beams running its sides like great sleeping worms. Someone had expensive interest in expanding it.

It was set to turn into the greatest of modern monuments. Unfortunately, it would not live to see its glory. Hopkins could hear the waggon rattling behind as it tried to keep up with the brigands. Beneath its roped cover banged and battered broad barrels filled to the brim with gunpowder. His orders were simple—see that this crossing would never be taken again.

There were no workers here today. It was the only arrangement from his boss that didn’t sit well with Hopkins. He relished the excitement of a good gunfight especially when it would be so easy to “lose” some of his men in the crossfire. Hopkins knew the fewer at the end of a job meant a greater payout for the survivors. And there were no better chaos for cutting unnecessary weight than a terminal bullet exchange.

Still she stood before their thunderous approach as though she were little more than one of them steel beams ready to stretch the gaping valley.

Hopkins’ cry came up louder than the hooves. Horses shook their heads as riders pulled hard upon their reigns. The group came to a stumbling halt as Hopkins grinned at the unshakeable darling who nary twitched despite half a dozen armed outlaws falling upon her.

“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” Hopkins called.

The terrific mare of bright chestnut fur and proud dark eyes stepped forward and shook its head menacingly.

She fingered the trigger of her rifle. “Dirty Hopkins.”

The broad-shouldered ruffian twitched scraggly whiskers at the invocation. He poked the tip of his muddied Boss of the Plains perched upon an untamed mane of coal black. A single thread of faded yellow wound about it but whatever noble prospects it once bespoke were tarnished by the dark blood stains which it slapped. His arms—draped in buckskin—crossed and the tens of dangling trimmed fringe fibres waved like little cloth fingers in the breeze.

“Don’t think we’ve met.”

“Ain’t had the pleasure till now.”

Accessed from http://www.wga.hu/framex-e.html?file=html/b/bril/mountain.html

Mountain Scene by Paul Bril (1599).

He surveyed the bridge for foul intentions. But there wasn’t anything but the woman and a construction site in half repair. He led his horse to the side, looking over the edge.

Far beneath cut a trickling blue stream like a child’s forgotten ribbon at the bottom of the canyon. The great stone walls rose up on either flank. In both directions drew the exposed red and pink wound. Only the most distant of peaks were tinged white as they crawled towards the sky. And nothing else crossed its expanse save for this great metal and wood monstrosity. If there were others, they would be faint motes amongst the rocky shadows. Had they clung to the underside of the bridge, there was no expeditious way for them to scramble up its side.

Hopkins raised a hand to his hat, pressing the brim further up his face. He had seen misplaced courage before—even from the fairer sex when they felt pressed against the walls of their frontier farms.

“And what brings a fine specimen such as yourself so far into the wastes? Ain’t a proper place for a little thing like you. Ruffians about, I hear.”

“Surely, I hope.” The rifle faced the rider.

Hopkins smiled, turning back to his gang. A few had followed in drawing their weapons but the rest stood around until he barked his command. Immediately, four outlaws dismounted, pulled the canvas across the vehicle’s back and fetched large barrels from its end.

“You got gumption; I give you that.”

He leaned back in his saddle, wholly unperturbed by the weapon pointing dangerously at his chest. When she didn’t respond, he gave her a questioning nod of his head.

“You got a name to that face?”

“Ain’t one that matters. But if it’s required, you may address me as Felicity.”

And that appellation made him lean forward upon his seat.

“I’ve heard of you.” Lips curled back to reveal a row of rotted teeth. “One of them hunters and runners scratching a living on them ships between Empires.”

He turned in his saddle looking up and down the bridge.

“But I ain’t see no ship.”

“There’s two ways we play this. You come willing or you come roughly. Either way’s ending the same.”

“And where we be heading, my dear?”

“You gone and made some folk irate. Falls on me to bring you back to them.”

“Aiming for a bounty?” Hopkins smiled. “Well ain’t that a thing. And you going to do it all your lonesome?”

He regarded the cowled men as they dragged their payload towards the bridge’s supports. Felicity finally acknowledged them, her eyes lingering momentarily on the pistols by their sides.

“Only got business with you. They’re free so long they ain’t do nothing unlawful.”

And Hopkins laughed. He swung one leg over his saddle, dropping from his horse and taking a few testing steps towards her. His snakeskin boots thumped against the wood as he drew closer and closer without a single discharge loosing from the rifle’s barrel. He was aware of a few of his entourage cocking hammers and covering the side angles. Hopkins rested a callused hand on the rifle’s top, pressing the weapon’s lips earthward.

“I ain’t tell if you’re bold or just full of aethers,” he said. “I reckon you can turn your cute little hat around and walk away from this and I ain’t have to bloody your pretty little face.”

He could smell her at this distance. This was no perfumed lady or pioneering immigrant. She smelled of sweat and grease. There were smudges of gunpowder residue staining her cheeks. Though her olive skin was radiant it was scratched and marked, edges of scars creeping from her collar and cuffs. And her eyes were hard as she raised them to meet his. There was not a trace of youthful brashness within their dark pits. They were cold and they were empty.

Hopkins hadn’t removed his hand from her rifle and he gave a quick tug, trying to yank it from her hands. But her grip held and she pulled back, the barrel slipping through his fingers. Before she could raise it, however, Hopkins struck. The back of his hand connected her cheek fiercely, forcing her for the first time from her stance as she stumbled a few steps.

She looked up, raising the rifle but gun fire kept her from pulling the trigger. The outlaw gave a wide grin as he nodded in appreciation for his hired men not killing her on the spot.

“It’s a wonder folk like you still manage to scrape a living. There can only be so much coin running unregistered shipments off the schedules. You want my advice? You got to look elsewhere for a scratch.”

He jabbed the tip of his pistol hard into her chest, causing her to wince as he grasped her shoulder.

“Now I ain’t going to ask you again. You better drop that little smokemaker of yours.”

There was the briefest of hesitations. Enough pause to make her rebelliousness known. But the weapon dropped from her fingers nevertheless.

In one quick motion, Hopkins boot crashed against the weapon and it skittered across the boards, tumbling over the edge of the bridge into the great beyond.

Felicity cried out, making a useless grab. As she shifted her weight, Hopkins struck her hard against the back, sprawling her across the bridge as her hat tumbled loose. She coughed and groaned as he hunched over her.

“You see, life out on the frontier ain’t a simple thing. Some men got to do what they got to do. You take some jobs other folk ain’t. You get a name that some ain’t like. But I tell you, you live. And that’s all that matters.”

He grabbed her by her hair, pulling her to her feet with a yelp.

“And sometimes you get some blood on your hands. But this land ain’t for the weak. Take a look on them hills. They’ve been bathed in the stuff. Always been since them savages learned two stones smashed against each other could create an edge that could paint red. You either fight and live or you get put into the ground to pay the earth her due.”

Accessed from http://www.wga.hu/framex-e.html?file=html/c/caillebo/03pont.html

On the Pont de l’Europe by Gustave Caillebotte (1876-1877).

He pulled her to the edge of the bridge, forcing her towards its razor side. Her arms flailed, fingertips clutching for the ribbed steel on either side. He held her tight by her knot, her head pulled uncomfortably back. Her eyes could only see the tops of the canyon, its dark line winding out as far as the eye could grasped.

“You can hear the groans of all them stiffs stuffed into the earth. First was them savages with their constant fighting and hollering. Then them kuli’s in those junks they sailed across the waters with their long nails and shaved tails like rats fleeing a sunk ship. Got them cities digging right into the coast all the way up to the mountains and been sitting there like they’ve been under siege for generations.

“This land is a harsh one.”

He pulled her back, throwing her roughly to the bridge’s planks. He stood over her, like a rancher looking over a lame calf. He half-smiled, watching her fingers tighten around the boards. But she did not move as he crouched.

She coughed and he turned his head, losing her words in the distant cry of an eagle.

“Hunter’s on the wing,” he smiled, reaching down and grasping her chin. He turned her face to look at him, noting with amusement the fierce glare she shot. “So what were them pretty last words you wanted?”

“Should have taken the willing way.”

He raised a hand to strike her impertinence but thunder cracked against the canyon walls. Hopkins turned to the sky, searching for the phantom storm but a clatter off his shoulder pulled his attention. One of the barrels landed heavily upon its side, rolling along the wood and bouncing against the discarded tools. Hopkins spun to his feet, taking a step towards the wayward vessel while hollering at its clumsy carrier.

Just as unexpectedly as the barrel’s descent, the ruffian fell to the ground. Unlike his parcel, he didn’t move as a crimson pool began to stain the back of his shirt.

His half strangled criticism was drowned in a second sharp clap.

“Sharp shooter!”

 

Talisman

Talisman. Talisman. Talisman.

Talisman.

Talisman: The Magical Quest Game belongs to Games Workshop and Fantasy Flight Games. Images are not mine and are theirs and whatnot.

Talisman: The Magical Quest Game belongs to Games Workshop and Fantasy Flight Games. Images are not mine and are theirs and whatnot.

So, apparently I’m a repository for people’s unwanted goods. Recently, this included a digital copy of the 1983 cult classic board game, Talisman. What, you’ve never heard of Talisman? How can you call yourself a child of the eighties–the yuppie years!–and not know what the cultural cornerstone is? For shame, I tell you. For shame!

Alright, I had no idea what the damn thing was before Derek discovered he had an extra copy in his inventory and threw it at me. The game languished in our backlogs until we discovered we were depressingly short on multiplayer games to spend our meager breaks in idle distraction. Of course, Derek has the deluxe version with all the bells and whistles and pay to win mechanics while I have the poor man’s “stop whining and give us more money” version. Both of us were surprised to discover the game is old, and we drew this realization long before looking for its history on the Internet.

The lovable minstrel with that charming animal can beguile animals and get them to assist him... if the dice cooperate.

The lovable minstrel with that charming animal can beguile animals and get them to assist him… if the dice cooperate.

When you download Talisman, my first reaction is how quickly it is done. The game is small–in the data sense. Loading it up explains everything. This is very literally a digital board game. There are no fancy graphics or moving pieces or anything. We’ve got just the necessities and stripped it of everything that could distract you from the fact that, yes, you are playing a digital board game. This, of course, extends to functional multiplayer support and online options. So, I’ll give the bad upfront: You can not save the game. You can not reconnect to the game. You can not voice chat in the game. And, if you’re playing with Derek, you can’t even swear in the game because he keeps the damn chat filter on.

It’s… not pretty and for more reasons than you’re looking at hilariously bad 80s art of medieval fantasy tropes. There isn’t even a tutorial for us poor souls who have never heard of this monstrosity. In a way, this probably turned out to be a good thing as it made our first attempts at playing Talisman hilarious–if not necessarily for the reasons the designers intended.

But first, an explanation of what the game is. Do note that what I’m telling you now is far more information than either of us received when we loaded our pieces onto the board. Talisman is a four person game where players choose between a varied number of fantasy “classes” reminiscent of Dungeons and Dragons and spend the game roaming around a three tiered board going on wild adventures looking for epic loot and stat improvements so that they may brave the dangers and guardians of the coveted Crown of Command. Once a player has crossed the Plains of Peril (you can’t make these names up), they then seize control of the crown by unlocking its chamber using a titular talisman–a MacGuffin generally obtained by fulfilling a request of some mysterious Warlock which usually requires some paltry action like slaying a monster or being a generic jerk. Once possession of the crown has been made, the commanding player then casts a spell to order his fellows to… from what I can tell attempt suicide repeatedly until the dolts succeed. Lots of dice are cast in this misadventure and good luck trying to come up with any sort of sane strategy which doesn’t involve “roll the dice and pray for the best.”

This is probably where the inspiration for Mario Party arose.

Alright, the game isn’t that random but it is pretty random. All challenges are resolved through usually a single d6 roll. Your adventures and rewards are typically determined by drawing a card from a deck with very little ability to affect the draw. That said, obtaining the required stats for braving the plains of peril, I don’t think, are nearly as onerous as our misguided four hour slog of our first game suggests. Beating monster challenges awards trophies which can be turned in for stat increases in a similar vein to Elder Signs. There are also shops around the map which you can purchase set items that always perform the same function and weapons are included in these purchases meaning you have two routes to reliably improve yourself. There is also the bold face robbery which, judging by the frequency the AI engages in such behaviour, is standard fare for a game of Talisman. Should you, by chance, get a hold of one of the necessary talismans early, expect pious monks to come around and beat you senseless for it. If anyone starts to drag behind the rest, they become the schoolyard victim, constantly ambushed and robbed of their lunch money whenever a bully catches them.

That said, at any moment an errant roll can change things drastically. I suppose part of the enjoyment of games like Mario Party is the unpredictability. Should your highway robbery go awry, your would-be victim can instead mug you. Getting into the Plains of Peril, even when adequately prepared, has a decent chance to launch you–catapult style–half across the board, opening a trailing rival to take the lead. Even gaining possession of the crown does not guarantee victory as someone can ascend behind you and wrestle, Gollum style, for the precious artifact. Also, there are quite a few situations where you’re asked to roll with a 50 percent chance ending in disaster. Much like Derek losing all his craft to an errant tribal woman. Also, you can’t predict when someone may just offhandedly draw the rune sword or war horse and then start on a snowball of murder through the countryside, racking up tons of trophies and beating down the doors to the inner realm through sheer number of severed goblin skulls.

Blog03_pic03There is a slight mechanic to lessen the fickleness of dice–insomuch as such a feat is possible. Each class has a different number of “fate” points which they can spend to re-roll a die. Of course, our first game we didn’t know why were were allowed so many rerolls nor how infrequent replenishing fate truly was so Derek and I squandered ours on pointless journeys to the tavern. A poor choice of which our pious monk took quick advantage. Have I mentioned the AI are complete jerks?

There is a dizzying array of expansions for the game which adds more, more, more. Some slap curious expansions to the boards which neither of us bothered to truly explore (I found a library which apparently contained a ton of good reads but other than that, I abandoned the scholarly pursuits). Most simply add additional classes, encounters and spells. As I mentioned, I don’t have any access to classes beyond the twelve or so that comes in the main game but I can’t help but be slightly leery with some of them appearing stronger than others. I suppose there is also the Reaper mechanic introduced (another random element where anyone who rolls a 1 on their movement can move death in an attempt to chase the hooded spectre after their foes in the attempts to enact petty annoyances upon), a few alternative endings and variants offered. Given our disastrously long initial foray, Derek and I have yet to explore these other options fully.

Did I mention that our first match went four hours?

Course, if you haven’t guessed, I’m not as huge a fan of all the random elements. It’s no secret that fate and chance have a long standing hatred of me. Anything that has the potentiality for luck coming in and screwing up will always befall me. It’s why Xcom and I are not on speaking terms. RNG and I square off in an age old struggle of spite and stubbornness. For example, in our first full game, I managed to get ahold of the crown and it took around 12 turns for me to off my erstwhile opponents. This is nearly 1.5x longer than statistics would suggest.

The monk is pious and can pray real good. He'll also slap you around and steal your stuff at any given opportunity. Apparently, piety doesn't account for much.

The monk is pious and can pray real good. He’ll also slap you around and steal your stuff at any given opportunity. Apparently, piety doesn’t account for much.

Even more nefarious, however, are the bold pay-to-win elements involved in Talisman. I don’t just mean the greater selection of classes to those who shell out money. The game also includes a “rune system” which grants a person who equips them tangible benefits over those who do not. The first rune I unlocked as a simple “+1 life” which applies to all classes which I equip it upon. You can purchase all the runes from the start or frustratingly grind them out through the game’s impenetrable experience system at the end of a match. The only–and I stress only–positive of this system is that there’s an option to turn runes off at the start of the game and I would urge any person to do so. Pay for win mechanics are a blight and should not be promoted anywhere.

Anyway, at the end of the day, Talisman is a faithful reproduction of a board game experience to the online space. It’s rife with problems big and small, from the pay-to-win, poor netcoding and lack of basic functionality like voice chat. The game relies heavily on chance and randomness which makes strategic planning a rather pointless endeavour. All that said, it is mindlessly fun if you can cut out some time to play it. Now, I don’t mean to suggest all games will take four hours. Derek and I are neophytes when it comes to the game itself and as we get better I suspect the matches will get shorter. Talisman is cute if not flawed. Besides, it has such amazing art as the minstrel and monk, so how could you say no to that?

The Power of the Band

I’ve written before about my enjoyment of Summoner Wars. It’s a delightful little card/war game. Its biggest draw and greatest strength is the simplicity of its mechanics. It’s my gateway drug into more complicated and difficult collectible card games. It’s as far removed from Magic: the Gathering as you could possibly get while still maintaining some of that early interest and enjoyment that I felt when I was young, dumb and had no idea how Magic worked. This was like fifty years ago when Magic only had two colours and everyone gave a handshake at the beginning and end of a match, of course.

Yes, I shall continue using this image until the damn thing comes out

Summoner Wars and its art belongs to Plaid Hat Games and Cupidsart. Find Alliances at their website http://www.plaidhatgames.om

Last year, I did my little preview of the upcoming Alliances expansion for Summoner Wars which will nearly double the number of factions I own and the amount of cards with which to play. Up until now, my sister and I have been making do with the Master Set which had been the best bang for our buck. Because it has a limited collectible element to it (thankfully, nowhere near as damn expensive as Magic though it does have its own frustrations), one of the biggest purchasing hurdles was deciding whether we would “reinforce” one of the factions we owned or buy a new one. Almost invariably, the new faction won out. Well, with Alliances, every new deck is a combination of a prior one so the possibilities for deck building will really explode once the damn thing gets off a ship from China and gets to my door.

Seriously, we get flotsam from Japan faster than shipments from China.

Anyway, I digress. The long and short of it is once the Alliances gets into my grubby hands, I can introduce my sister to the more complex elements of these sort of card games: deck building. Thankfully, because of Summoner Wars’ aforementioned simplicity, the deck building will likely be a fairly straight-forward process. What cards do you hate in your current decks? Replace those with some new ones. Boom.

There are more considerations, of course. But these are well beyond our current level of play. One of the trickiest elements of Summoner Wars is managing the economy. Every soldier you can field also serves as the resource required to bring more swords to the battlefield. Every ally which falls to your enemy is more fuel for them to reinforce their side. There’s a limited number of cards in a deck and thus there’s a limited number of things you’ll be able to bring to the board–both physically as you’ll run out of cards and economically in that you’ll run out of magic with which to summon them. Thus, much like Magic, there is the consideration for a good cost spread. You don’t want to throw every expensive unit you have into your deck since you won’t be able to summon most of them. There’s also the wider Summoner Wars meta-game to consider which places greater emphasis on champions over grunt soldiers and its this meta which I want to discuss further.

Accessed from http://www.plaidhatgames.com/news/377

Prince Elien and one of the dreaded “Big Four.” Art from Battlecon.

I’m not unfamiliar with meta-games. Anyone that follows some sort of competitive scene will have a basic understanding of the term. It is the most post-modern kind of consideration. Before you even start playing the game, you must consider the way that people play the game while you play the game. That is to say, there is a discourse which surrounds every competition and that discourse can affect what happens within the competition itself. The most obvious example of this effect in action is Dota 2. In D0ta 2, certain playstyles or heroes will become–inexplicably–popular amongst the competitive teams and that style will feature in near every game. The picks and bans will focus around the heroes of the month as teams try to predict and deny their opponents key players in their strategies. There’s innumerable stories of this effect in action. The rise of Dark Seer in competitive play is one such tale. Dark Seer, for the longest while, had seen absolutely zero picks by teams and, in order to encourage more diversity in team strategies, the hero saw his abilities continually improved patch after patch. Then, Empire (I think, we’re talking like two years ago now) picked up the guy and absolutely dominated their games with him. Dark Seer, ever since, has received nothing but nerfs to his abilities since. Arguably, the hero was well overpowered for the entire time he had been in the game but since the meta-game (specifically the picking and banning) had snubbed him so thoroughly, the hero just kept getting stronger and stronger. Then, of course, there are stories like Dreamhack’s Sven where that hero was picked in nearly every game of the tournament and then just fell off the face of the earth once the month was over.

It’s always humorous watching people try and explain why these things happen. It’s almost entirely armchair analysis, of course: prescriptive thoughts which have no value or weight in either predicting what teams will latch on to or what will be popular for the next big tournament. However, these discussions are important if only for highlighting where the analysts’ attention lies if not pointing out actual design issues that the creator may not have intended.

Summoner Wars has a similar meta-discussion. However, it is focussed almost entirely on defensive, passive play which encourages and promotes stalemates. Unlike Dota 2’s meta-game which mostly directs which heroes will see the lion’s share of attention and its stagnation simply needs a few soft prods from Valve to remind teams that they have a potential pool of 115 heroes to choose, Summoner Wars’ meta-game is sort of a dread whisper amongst paranoid conspirators about some terrible inevitability in the game’s core design. Specifically, the argument entails, the game is irrevocably broken on a design level and that if played to its ultimate competitive conclusion, the game would be a giant snore-fest of players passively passing turns and staring at each other with their tongues stuck out.

The argument is as follows:

There is an inherent advantage to playing defensive in Summoner Wars. All things considered equal, a person who has to defend their self from an aggressor can more easily reinforce their troops and has advantage in maneuvering their units into more advantageous positions. Since every fallen enemy is more power in your pool for summoning, a defender is able to more easily turn an aggressive advance into a crushing loss for his opponent by wiping out his troops and then performing a riposte fueled with more magic and units that his now expended foe can not rebuke. Furthermore, many of the earlier summoners feature special events which carry a specific rider that they must have fewer units than their enemy in order to trigger. Presumably, the design theory was that this would counteract the loss of an aggressive push, however most players now will kill their own units to reduce their numbers and selfishly hoard the magic gained from those deaths for their own use. Thus, they build their magic pool through their own troops, deny their opponent the same magic, then have fewer units in order to trigger these aforementioned “catch-up events” for an even greater advantage. Thus, they’re in a better position from the start, sitting on more resources than their enemy so should they be attacked, it would be inconsequential to win the war.

Taken to its logical conclusion, the only way to counteract this strategy by your opponent is to perform it yourself. There would, thusly, be a race to self-extermination with both players thinning their ranks to the barest of bones then sitting with a huge stack of magic to counter summon against an attack that will never come since their enemy is doing the exact same trick. Thus, by the game’s design itself, the best action to take is inaction and if any player truly desired victory, they must always retreat and hunker on their furthest lines with nary an assistant and wait for their opponent to make the first move.

Queue staring contest.

Accessed from http://www.plaidhatgames.com/sum_forums/showthread.php?168-The-Book-of-Grognack

Grognack of the Big Four. These guys are seen as the worst of the turtling factions

I am, by no means, a Summoner Wars professional. That said, no one is. Part of the issue surrounding Summoner Wars’ meta-game is the dearth of voices participating in it. There is not the player base for the game like there is for Dota 2. Thus, conversations generally devolve into the same few people shouting the same few arguments again and again. Innovation and development often come not from old guard who have figured the game out in their own eyes but by new blood who approach the game with a different perspective. This, once again, comes up in Dota 2 constantly. Invariably, with the yearly shuffling of teams and players, old dominating teams fall to the wayside and younger teams in the wings rise into prominent spots. Often, these players get an edge over their experienced opponents by utilizing new and surprising strategies. I would use MVP Phoenix as an example. The team from Korea is, in my mind, a rising star on the Dota 2 scene having worked their way to the last International through a very tough qualifying phase. And though their performance at the competition left a little to be desired, they have continued to play and improve posting results over old players that were once top tier. And one of their most famous hero selections is Warlock–a hero that sees just about as much play as Dark Seer did before Empire rode him to the top. Warlock had, for the longest time, been considered a lane support for more important heroes and languished in that role compared to other laning supports. MVP Phoenix, however, play the lovable guy as the actual farming carry–and hold him in the first position for gold and experience acquisition. That’s a far cry from the fifth position most others had seen him. And you know what? MVP Phoenix quite often dominate when they play like this. He’s a first ban in most games against the Korean squad as teams don’t know how to deal with him but neither do they know how to play him.

I feel Summoner Wars biggest issue is that its infusion of new blood is pretty small. I won’t deny the defender’s advantage but I don’t think it’s as dominant a strategy as people bemoan. I think the advantage of fighting on your own side and being able to immediately reinforce a defence serves more like a come-back mechanic or “rubber band effect.” These are usually systems put in place to make sure that an early lead in competitive games does not snowball into an impossible offense. Dota 2 has these mechanics. Heroes that garner kill streaks–many successive enemy kills without dying themselves–gain a larger and larger “death bounty.” That is to say, when this murderous hero finally dies, the reward for killing him is much greater than someone who hasn’t killed anyone in the game. Furthermore, a person that has died multiple times in succession without garnering a kill themselves has a lower and lower “death bounty” generating the murderous team less and less gold and experience for continually picking on the poor soul. Other games have similar systems. League of Legends has their base respawn after a certain amount of time has elapsed since a team destroyed parts of it–turning the improved soldiers for the successful army back to normal so these uncontrolled members of the teams return to an even level.

So, rubber banding isn’t inherently bad. Without some system, games can be determined within the first few minutes of their start. Terra Mystica has no rubber band effect and I suspect within the first few turns, you can probably determine who will win the game. For spectators, this really diffuses excitement. If first blood was the primary determinant of a match, you’d probably see teams play far more passive and defensive, taking less risks and extending the period of time that first blood would occur to try and wrangle themselves the advantage first. You can see in League of Legends how this passiveness can occur. The average game of League will have far less action than the average game of Dota (and no, for fans of either I’m not going to do a dissertation to support this–suffice to say I’ve seen enough of both to know that this generalization is true). Having some mechanic so that a player can come back into the game can keep the action exciting and intense, thus making the game even more enjoyable.

Accessed from http://www.plaidhatgames.com/images/news/summoner-wars/

Oldin of the Big Four. This card is one of the reasons for their hatred. The worst catch-up event that gives too much of a swing to the player that murders his own troops. Can also be found, surprise-surprise, with Prince Elien, Tacullu and in a roundabout way, Grognack.

Ultimately, that’s what I think the defender’s advantage is in Summoner Wars. It’s a more subtle effect that insures that whoever takes the first turn and is able to get the first few kills won’t spiral off that early two to three magic advantage into a position that is indefensible. Is the defensive advantage too strong of a rubber band is the real question. I think, with the game’s earlier designed factions, it is. It extended past the point of being a serviceable boost to keep the balance of the game tilting too quickly into one player’s advantage and offers a defensive player too much to discourage anyone from wanting to cross the middle line. However, I feel the main culprit for this is the company’s earlier fear of aggressive play being too powerful. You can see it in some of the earlier factions and how they were “weakened” well beyond the point of balance. For instance, the Jungle Elves first summoner has an event that allows him to move a unit two spaces during the event phase. This, in-of-itself, is a good event but not the best in the game. However, the faction also has a three attack melee unit (the lioneer) which can move seven spaces in a straight line on its movement phase. No doubt in playtesting, the designers found the Jungle Elf player was able to move this unit two spaces and then charge right on the summoner, opening up the possibility of a one or two turn kill depending on dice and the summoner they were attempting to maim. Thus, this Chant of Haste was balanced so that it only worked on units with a summoning cost of two or less.

This is an obvious design element meant to weaken offensive play but nearly all the early offensive decks have examples such as this. The carefulness in overbalancing aggressive play is, in my mind, the true culprit for slowing down Summoner Wars’ larger meta-game. Granted, nothing can be done about these factions now, however I feel this is good news. Since the meta-game has developed into such a defensive and stalling direction, I think the upcoming Alliances is going to introduce factions that are stronger on the attack.

Ultimately, I can understand the hesitation over making attacking too powerful. What the stalemate proponents fail to realize is that you literally can not win Summoner Wars without attacking. The whole “issue” arises because players refuse to attack, trying to force their opponent to do so first so they can utilize the defender’s advantage. For most of us, this sort of mentality won’t be a problem. My sister and I are too aggressive, if we make any sort of mistake. I think this “sit back and wait” mentality would only really crop up in tournaments–as few as they are. And to fix the problem in that setting, I think is relatively easy. Set a maximum game length and, should the game go to clock, both players will have the match considered a loss. This would make the player with the advantage forced to press the issue–the only element which currently is missing from the game. Since, if I’m sitting and “turtling” the best, building up the greater magic pool and holding the best series of events, then waiting until the clock runs out is against my goals. It means that I will definitely lose a game which I currently have the stronger odds for winning. Since there is now an “inevitability” of a loss, I would have to act or–ultimately–get the loss and hurt my overall tournament standings.

Granted, this isn’t the most elegant fix. What I predict is that the Summoner Wars’ meta-game will devolve into picks and counter picks where factions have a disproportionate level of success given their opponents. Thus, the meta-game’s top tier deck could be the Filth as they have the greatest success against other strong decks but the Filth may have incredibly horrible match-ups against the Cave Goblins and Cloaks who, otherwise, may be considered some of the worst. Ideally, you’d want each faction with close to equal chances of winning regardless of the match-up. Though that’s a tall order to fill. Ultimately, I’d rather factions with lots of one-sided matches but with still clear weaknesses that can be exploited by others than a game where two people decide to simply sit across from each other and stare.

Accessed from http://www.plaidhatgames.com/sum_forums/showthread.php?754-The-Book-of-Tacullu

The last of the Big Four. Ultimately, I don’t even think they’re the best turtles; they’re just the most annoying. But we’ll see when Alliance hits… any day now.

Went Woman

Yes, I know, everyone worth listening to has already seen this and commented on it. A little background story: I wanted to see this movie while it was in theatres. I proposed that my family watch it instead of seeing Guardians of the Galaxy which would no doubt be another standard Marvel movie release with all the pew-pews and little else. My sister, of course, had no interest but then it wasn’t really up her alley. My mother, on the other hand, loves going to films and loves seeing thriller and action movies. This would be the perfect situation for a child-parent quality time sort of experience. Of course, that didn’t happen because Gone Girl’s release came and went and my mother expressed no further interest in seeing it and rather bemoaned that we never watched Guardians of the Galaxy. And thus, our movie watching window closed. I had to content myself with hearing other people’s impressions as by the time it was clear I would not be seeing it with my kin, my friends already had.

Alas.

Anyway, Gone Girl came to video–as movies are want to do–and thus it was possible for us to schedule some time when neither of us were busy so we could sit down and watch the highly contentious movie (contentious only in whose fault it was that we never saw it in theatres). We were both eager for a decent thriller and suspense movie and came in with high hopes especially after all the positive word of mouth surrounding the picture. Aaaaand that was a mistake.

I didn’t like it. Neither did my mom. For her, there was just something off about the movie. For me, I simply didn’t get it.

And this isn’t some sort of confession that the movie was too “intelligent” or complicated to follow. The plot is not, by any stretch, difficult. Everything is explicitly detailed for the viewer. There isn’t any sort of Nolan ambiguity that may create some confusion in the audience. Knowing the truth of the situation is simple because the movie shows you it with any potential contradicting information clearly framed as being unreliable. Yes, the story uses an unreliable narrator but it becomes really evident when things aren’t being present to the audience at face value.

So what was there not to get? This was essentially my conversation with my mother afterwards. It is, to be fair, a perspective that I’m learning most people don’t possess. Most consumers of our media seem to focus on the act of consumption itself. They read the story, the follow the action and they smile or frown at whatever tone the author ties it up with at the end. Few people seem to take the approach which everyone was taught in their (competent) English classes. It seems like there’s a natural aversion to dissecting work and trying to peel the layers back and view the muscles and tissues beneath which make it all work. Perhaps most people are scarred from the English classes. I know I’ve had discussions with Kait about teasing themes and motifs from fiction and at first she always threw up her hands and declared she never saw it. The process is not onerous, however. It is basically taking the mind of a four year old; you simply always ask ‘why?’

As a creative person myself, my major question generally revolves around “Why was this made in the first place.” On first blush, the answer seems obvious: to entertain. But that’s not what I’m looking at. As an entertainer myself, there’s lots of ideas in my head that float around crying out for attention and form. I’m not looking for the reductionist answer for entertainment media, I’m looking for why this specific work had reason to come into being.

I am aware of no writer who sits down to a blank screen, puts their fingers to the keyboard and out pops a novel of its own accord. We are not the proverbial thousand monkeys at a thousand typewriters. In fact, a lot of new writers struggle with that intimidating empty page. Looking upon that vast white emptiness full of potentials and possibilities can actually stifle creativity and progress. You can get wrapped up in all the ‘what ifs’ and ‘how what about that’ to actually get anywhere. No, writers have some idea when they sit down of the form they wish to create. No sculptor mindlessly chisels at rock and thus no writer mindlessly drools on paper. Thus, there is some core that a story is written around. There is some central idea, theme or metaphor that serves as the foundation for everything that branches outward. This isn’t always something profound. I mean, Star Wars was created because George Lucas wanted to create a movie of his favourite pulp sci-fi action hero Flash Gordon but could not get the rights to the intellectual property. Thus, he made his own. You can see that primary motivation glimmer throughout the first movie before all the elements are brought in to flesh the piece out. He wanted a space opera and thus he created a space opera.

Now, I understand people’s disdain for this analytic approach. I know when I was younger it always felt a little like “reading too much into it” and trying to impose your own motifs and feelings on a piece that were never the author’s intention. I mean, you can look at my prior discussion of sexism in Name of the Wind for something that was not consciously part of this initial creation. These accidental themes are, in my opinion, just as important as the intentional ones for a strong writer will have much better control over their central concept and can keep out unwanted messages that would dilute or distract from their original intent.

So, my question to everyone who saw Gone Girl would be “what was the point of this movie?” I can not answer this question with any degree of confidence and that is what I don’t get about it. I don’t know why it was made (well, I do now because I read interviews of the author afterward) and ultimately that’s because the story is a bit of a mess. At its core Gone Girl is a confused jumble of raw ideas rather haphazardly forged together into a meandering tale. All these little pieces and ideas, on their own, could probably work as a piece but together it becomes too much for me to ignore the ends as they fray and come undone beneath the slightest scrutiny.

But let’s begin with the start since that’s what everyone knows. Gone Girl is at its strongest in its first act. It opens with a rather morose Ben Affleck visiting a woman whose relationship is not made clear immediately preparing the audience for a sense of vague uncertainty. We don’t know anything about these individuals and the tease of a mysterious treasure hunt devised by the hauntingly absent Rosamund Pike is certainly powerful enough to grab attention. It’s not long before Ben Affleck receives a call from a concerned neighbour and he returns home to find an empty house with a smashed table and immediately calls the police. The detectives trouncing about the house is segregated by a narrated backstory by the missing Amy Dunne explaining the happy life her and Nick led before she was dragged out into the Midwest America Suburbia and, for all intents and purposes, died.

As an aside, I find Ben Affleck really distracting in movies. It’s too hard for me to not shake that I’m watching Ben Affleck training to be Batman pretending to be some down on his luck average American whenever he does these kinds of features. It was the same issue in Argo (though made even more apparent in Argo because there was a deliberate attempt to not make everyone else look like a Hollywood Superstar). He’s got the same sort of goofy, Ben Affleck personality as he mopes about the screen kind of being sad about his wife’s disappearance and kind of not. On the one hand, he does a good job of communicating Nick’s detachment from his wife. On the other hand, I feel he would have got that across even if he weren’t trying to do it.

Anyway, digression over, I really liked the set-up and exploration of the two character’s lives as it followed the police’s investigation trying to find this woman and piece together what happened that morning. Nick’s testimony is always held with a bit of skepticism because of his laissez-faire attitude towards the whole affair. As the investigation continues, incongruities in Nick’s personal life and actions rise to the surface. However, there’s always some lingering doubt hanging over his suspicion. Despite Amy’s overtures, the fact that Nick’s sister Margo is so adamant against the woman (and something which is never clarified by either of the main characters thus by structure indicates that her feelings are genuine) and her rather cold demeanor towards her family and the strained relationship she had with them in her recollections make it clear that Amy isn’t some innocent, bumbling homebody that was apt to fall to some nefarious scheme. It’s in these slow moments of revelation while the life of Amy Dunne exists in existential uncertainty that the movie really shines. However, as the pieces begin to surface, it all felt too exact for it to be right. I was glad that the detective was self-aware enough to express the same cynicism over the case and continued to push the question of Amy’s fate away from the meticulously laid explanation that Nick had killed her and back into a more ambiguous “nothing seems right.”

And then the truth is revealed rather abruptly and far too early. Unsurprisingly, Amy is alive and driving off with a giant wad of cash. It’s explained that she discovered Nick’s affair and, so infuriated, decided to absolutely ruin her husband in as self destructive a manner as was possible. This… could have worked and I wouldn’t mind a story looking at how invested a marriage can create between two individuals that when that union becomes inextricably broken, there is no healing the wounds it leaves behind. I can get behind the idea that Amy was so distraught, so shut-off and so isolated that her only way out she could see was to fabricate this highly exacting set-up, manipulate the media towards a favourable bias and have Nick executed for her murder which would be cinched with her own suicide.

But then the movie keeps going. Suddenly, it’s not even about some desperate housewife but tries to reveal that Amy has all along been some incredibly twisted sociopath who has always manipulated the law in her favour against her jilted lovers. She has a habit of rather extreme self-harm in order to present an image of her living a life of constant harassment, abuse and sexual assault. It’s the sort of accumulating nonsense that arises from an need to easily explain a mountain of contradictory behaviour driven less by theme or character and more by a need to raise the ante to see how far one can go. It’s the modern equivalent of ‘the devil made me do it’ and this sort of lazy way out is expected in the incredibly silly modern slasher horror flicks. Somewhere along the way, Gone Girl lost its way and seemed to forget what it was trying to discuss. It devolves into this weird, Silence of the Lambs-esque lens on a bizarrely fictitious psychopath that had tried to elicit sympathy and humanity from its start. It would be like trying to watch Hannibal Lector be a caring if absent minded father in a Modern Family episode before having some inexplicable breakdown and just start eating people while trying to convince you that all that time you were watching him be a sitcom dad he was really also eating people… at some point. Don’t think about it, they didn’t.

It’s this shift from being a character piece to a narrative piece that also leaves Gone Girl in its weakest state by the end. When Amy returns covered in Neil Patrick Harris’ blood after coldly killing him (and not reacting at all to it because… I suppose having your life savings stolen from you is as good enough an excuse to send someone into the extreme depths of antisocial behaviour) the police question her over her story. The contradictions in her desperate attempts to keep her original plan to frame her husband accurate while also pretending she had been kidnapped the entire time are far too obvious and far too easy to prosecute. I mean, she tries to argue that there’s video footage of her imprisonment with the movie conveniently forgetting that there’s only footage for her at the house over two days since she spent the vast majority of the time in a Louisiana motel. Not to mention her arrival at Neil Patrick Harris’ house would look really bizarre seeing that she appeared in disguise and had to be provided with new clothes, hair dye and a diet in order to be returned to her normal look after a month of binge eating snacks.

But no, I’m sure that ten second footage of her crying over spilt brandy on her nightie would certainly trump the fact that nothing else makes a god damn lick of sense.

Accessed from https://killingfloorfilm.files.wordpress.com/2014/10/gone-poster-080114sp.jpg

Gone Girl belongs to Gillian Flynn and 20th Century Fox.

Gone Girl basically undid itself because it either didn’t have a clear goal of what it wanted to say or it simply didn’t keep to it. It lost its best elements by getting more and more ludicrous in an attempt to keep the “audience on is toes.” By the end of it, I couldn’t help but feel that the story itself is too self indulgent. It feels like it was mainly written as a form of wish fulfillment. The author wanted to explore two characters that were actually one: herself. In Nick, she had a picture of herself: an individual who tries their best but is often foiled by their own petty indulgences and desires. In Amy is the person she wants to be: an individual so in control of herself that she can manipulate even the behemoth media giants to dance to her whim–a woman that is both dangerous and desirable like an addiction that no person can quit.

And at its end, Gone Girl feels like that ludicrous fantasy. All that effort and work spent trying to sustain the suspension of disbelief and to flesh-out and round characters reduced to so many cliches and shallow explanations. It’s about as unsatisfying as Nick’s marriage.

The Draw of RPGs

Clarification: When I discuss RPGs, I am referring to role-playing games and not rocket-propelled grenades. Except for the times when I am talking about rocket-propelled grenades but those are few and far between.

We here at somewherepostculture are fond of many things. Derek loves puns. Kait loves pulpy fantasy stories. I hate everything. If there is one thread of unity which binds the three of us together, it is the role-playing genre. Albeit, my sister is a neophyte when it comes to your traditional RPG goodness, she still expresses that kindred longing in every post-novel lapse where she fills her head with mighty adventures of her going through the wonderful worlds that she loves and adores. I know this, because every time I write a story she immediately makes a spin-off of it. Also, despite her reluctance and adamant denial, she has enjoyed the few times she’s played an RPG. She’d be totally hardcore if it were more convenient to her schedule.

Granted, this shouldn’t really be surprising. There’s a lot to love about RPGs. They are, in essence, the the age old entertainment from when we first were capable of language and cobbled our kin around the primordial fire and–bored–filled ears of any who would listen about people and places that weren’t this fire. Entertainment at its core is simply selfish empathy wherein we peek into the lives of another in order to vicariously experience their highs and lows without actually having to risk those highs and lows ourselves. Of course, to tickle those dopamine receptors to their max, the listener has had the proud and long standing tradition of heckling. It wasn’t until we got so adept at sharing our stories that we faced the immutable forms of the written word which can only bend to our personal whims through sheer force of mindful inattention.

Accessed from http://www.wga.hu/frames-e.html?/html/b/bocklin/the_surf.html

The Surf by Arnold Böcklin (1883).

Then we had the wonderful role-playing game step in and restore that give and take between teller and listener once more. Dungeons and Dragons, of course, is the grand daddy of the modern role-playing genre for taking what, on reflection, is a very simple idea. What if we could have our tabletop war games but instead of mindlessly waging conflict between our two different players, we took all the mechanics and instead wrapped it in personal adventures and stories?

I have spoken at lengths about the merits of D&D, often around the time I sit down to create a character. It’s a fascinating topic for me to study since there are so many elements at play with the game that it truly does have widespread appeal. As I’ve stated, my personal bias is the narrative construction of the game and though I like to paint a universal portrait for the importance of story-telling in our day to day lives, the truth is there are equally valid components included that attract people that may not give a rat’s ass for the cultural mono-myth of our existence and lives. For these undeveloped plebeians, there are other worthwhile draws. Some of my most die-hard D&D fans are attracted to the system itself. This surprises no one as RPGs and math nerds are like espresso and overpriced tiny cups–you just can’t serve one without the other. For these fans, the enjoyment comes not from the back and forth experiences between the Dungeon Master and the player but taps into the old war game roots. For these players, there is an enemy and that is the stated foes listed in the monster supplementaries. Their goal is a simple one: master the system so thoroughly as to leave any battle not only alive but as the clear victor.

If I had to create a spectrum, however, I’d place these power games–for it is the power of the system which they seek to master–diametrically opposed to me, the role-player. But that is, perhaps, another discussion. All I know far too well is how these power gamers have a tendency to ruin the best portions of D&D by trying to stick their swords in pretty much any situation which extends too long without someone mindlessly throwing some dice on the table.

However, just like D&D’s atrocious alignment system, the breadth of the fans can not be properly placed into two camps. There are also the tourists, who enjoy investigating and navigating another world and see the game through the frame of a puzzle to be solved. They are the people who always wish to know more about their environment and visiting fantastical places. They can cast themselves off to these places which are not here and can imagine a world that is not their own. Whether they view this world through a lens of scientific intrigue or childhood wonder varies from person to person, of course. There are other elements as well, of course: co-operation amongst a group to overcome challenges, social interactions and living a character, shoes and bags of holding.

I make mention of this because I feel that D&D remains the undeniable king of the genre. With the advent of computer gaming, there is a plethora of attempts to bring the RPG genre to the digital landscape. However, despite the huge steps in technological advancement, I feel that the game will always be best represented at the table. There are just too many factors involved for a single game to capture them all. The biggest problem, of course, being that we still don’t have any computer which has the processing power of our own imaginations and rivaling that tech will probably never happen in my lifetime.

As a consequence, discussing computer role-playing games can be a difficult thing. Given the inherent complexity, sacrifices have to be made in order to see a game come to fruition. As such, most games will excel in one or two areas at the consequence of others. It’s why when asked what my favourite cRPG is, I have to give an incredibly varied list. It’s why Derek and I can have endless debates over the merits of Bethesda’s entries. Whether I like a cRPG is going to depend on which aspect the developers decided to place their focus. If its on an element for which I don’t truly care, then I’m not going to really jump into it.

Accessed from http://www.wga.hu/frames-e.html?/html/b/bocklin/pirates.html

Attack by Pirates by Arnold Böcklin.

My favourite example to use, of course, is The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim. Skyrim is kind of a big deal. It was released at a time when the most successful games on the market included heavy multi-player aspects. Bethesda’s Elder Scrolls series had always been a single player experience and people were begging at Oblivion’s release and after for a massive multiplayer online game. This would, of course, completely destroy what the Elder Scrolls are about (and coincidentally, people can see the difference given that The Elder Scrolls Online is a thing and has recently gone free to play–perhaps indicating it wasn’t as successful as Skyrim). Derek loathes Bethesda’s games and I can’t fault him for that irrational hatred. They lack a lot of what he really likes. Their mechanical systems have always been functional at best. Their characters are about as detailed as one can get when they have to create a thousand of them. Interactions between the player and the characters and plot on any meaningful basis is never going to happen.

And that’s because the Elder Scrolls are focused on exploration. They aren’t about epic narratives or compelling characters. They’re about stepping over that ridge and stumbling across a dungeon, delving inside to find strange grottos or hidden pirate lairs. You are invited to live in the world and play the part of a tourist. Take a look around the scenery and follow these exciting short dramas that are created within it. As a cohesive whole, the Elder Scrolls leaves a lot to be desired. But the only other game that gives you that “discover a new world” feel is procedurally generated Minecraft.

We’ve recently finished Divinity: Original Sin (expect a review shortly) and its world is probably one of its more laughable qualities. Whereas both share set pieces in their design, to be sure, you just can’t compare the two. I mean, The Elder Scrolls is designed from a first person perspective which, I would argue, is the strongest one for creating immersion. D:OS, however, is an isometric top down perspective that makes you feel more like you’re moving pieces across a chessboard than an individual exploring a world.

However, D:OS makes Skyrim’s combat a joke. The amount of interactions between abilities as well as the complexity of even the most basic encounters with zombies is truly astounding. Every time you draw your weapon, you have a calculating strategy battle that demands you position and chain your abilities properly in order to rival your foes. Otherwise they will (especially on hard) murder you. It’s the sort of combat that would be impossible in Skyrim, partly because of its reliance on a party and partly because the creation of Skyrim’s breathtaking world has to drop all the data for interaction between items and abilities. And neither of these are touching on my favourite elements: character and narrative.

In a sense, it’s a shame. My “dream game” would basically combine all the best qualities and recreate Dungeons and Dragons for a digital space. However, there is some joy in exploring titles and seeing the refinement of a specific element that might otherwise be ignored. There’s some exploration within the genre itself and it means that there is still things that can be pleasant surprises. My only word of caution would be in blindly trying to sell the games more than what they are. I can’t take anyone seriously that argues D:OS has terrific writing, an engaging world or gripping characters. It doesn’t, especially not compared to the games that actually focus on those elements. If I were to solely compare D:OS to Vampire the Masquerade: Bloodlines on those fronts, there isn’t even a debate to be had over which is better. Bloodlines would take D:OS to the cleaners. But turn the tables and start discussing combat systems and suddenly things aren’t so bleak for D:OS.

Accessed from http://www.wga.hu/frames-e.html?/html/b/bocklin/isle2.html

The Isle of the Dead by Arnold Böcklin (1883).

So there’s an aspect of finding what you like and looking into the titles that do those the best. But there’s value to be had in looking at those that extol the virtues of elements that may not be the favourites either. Dark Souls is another game that emphasizes combat and boss encounters and I loved it for that.

There’s lots of reasons for loving RPGs. The quest for you is to find your own.