Into the Woods belongs to Disney and Sondheim and people.
I liked it.
Into the Woods Review
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Category Archives: Criticism
When You Speak, All I Hear Is Bastion
Transistor and its images belong to Supergiant Games and its respective whatevers.
Well, how about we review something that isn’t four years old, hm?
It was the holidays which means presents, sales and free time to get some things off the old backlog. One of the games I crossed off was Supergiant Games’ new(ish) release Transistor. Supergiant is the studio behind the much lauded Bastion. I picked up the title amidst the swirl of good word and awards. It’s a charming little number that I quite enjoyed (and is also four years old). It wasn’t the best released in good old 2011, however I still thought quite highly of it. Its gameplay was rather straightforward but the nice touch was that the player set the difficult not through a menu toggle but by activating handicaps within the game. Thus, the top down action combat became more difficult not because enemies were turned into enormous health sponges with fists of steel but because they now exploded upon death, touching them was harmful to the player, they periodically turned invulnerable or the like. Of course, succeeding with these additional challenges produced a higher score so there was reward for making this difficult. The art was nice, the music gorgeous and the voice narration was incredible all wrapped in a seeming incomprehensible world where some great disaster had destroyed a city.
Transistor is a top down action combat game set in a city being destroyed by some incomprehensible threat wrapped in pretty art, alright music, alright voice narration and a difficulty the player sets by activating handicaps within the game.
Alright, I’m not the first one to make this reductionist joke but that’s the price of being late in reviews. However, I can’t help but feel a lot of the praise held for Transistor feels so… hollow. But instead of focusing on what’s the same, let’s examine the one area that Transistor differs from its predecessor.
The combat in Transistor revolves around the titular weapon. The protagonist–Red–wields a giant circuitry sword which allows her to pause time and execute a flurry of actions in the blink of an eye. Whereas in Bastion the player was encouraged to experiment with different weapon combinations and active ability, in Transistor the player is able to choose up to four special attacks which can be upgraded as well as equip passives on themselves. These are represented by the poorly explained ‘functions.’ Each function will revolve around an idea. For example, the Get function when set as an attack will do marginal damage and pull the target towards the user. When it is used as an upgrade for another attack, it adds a pull attribute to the primary attack. When it’s a passive… I can’t remember. Something really underwhelming. Maybe increases the range that dead cells are pulled towards Red?
It’s an intriguing system that could open up a number of unique and variable playstyles. However, much like Bastion, there isn’t a whole lot of balancing between the factions. I do think some personal preference does play a role. I’m not convinced that the mortar in Bastion is considered as good as I valued it. The game encourages experimentation by unlocking dossier details on the functions “history” whenever the player uses it in a different capacity. Thus, I obsessively tried to unlock all the little details though the reward was ultimately rather underwhelming as the information really doesn’t provide any greater revelations to the Transistor story proper. It also meant I discovered that there is a ‘fail state’ in the game when I hilariously waddled into the second boss fight with only a single actual attack equipped and promptly got it disabled the first time my health bar depleted.
Which brings us to a second curious difference between Transistor and Bastion. Instead of outright dying when your health reaches 0, Red will instead find one of her functions disabled while she pops right back to full health. In theory this gives the player a second and third chance to get through the combat. In actuality, this really diminishes the game’s difficulty even with multiple limiters installed unless the player has a combat style that is reliant on one single attack. This, to me, was highlighted in the final battle where your opponent has transistor like abilities and will also not be defeated the first time you empty his health bar. The first time I fought him, I was–once again–loaded with some useless functions I was trying to unlock. After I lost my primary attack and had some hilarious running around of pulling the opponent to me which just set him up for repeated Turns, I fixed up my load order and while he managed to take out my primary attack, I was victorious three times in a row that a true failure was still well away from occurring.
I think part of the problem with this system lies in the fact that the transistor power is so strong on its own. The ability to freeze time in order to execute a furious combo generally left the opponent obliterated. I took the faster Turn refresh passive and would spend time between freezes skirting the periphery of battle until I could leap in, murder a target and rush out before anything was capable of retaliating. On the other hand, Bastion required a lot of timed rolling and dodges to keep alive in some of the more hectic combats though my strategy there was quite similar in that I would dance around the edges of battle only that time I would lob great explosive mortar blasts that generally did the trick before I faced the maker.
Granted, the player won’t really ‘break the system’ in Transistor right away. This is mostly due to the fact the game gives you no direction in how to play or what the hell is going on. It is a prominent ‘narrative device’ with both games and I was a little surprised to see it spill over to the gameplay this time around. On one hand, I do like the element of discovery and the lack of hand holding in a day and age where games provide the player with hours of forced tutorials. On the other hand, it takes most of the game to really understand what the hell you’re doing in a battle. It seems to me that the greatest pleasure in the system comes from planning and executing complex procedures during each of the player’s Turns and you won’t really ever get there until the game is coming to a close. I’m going to give the game a ‘recursive’ play (which means doing the damn thing over to get achievements but at least the new game+ mode keeps intact all the functions you had on your first run) so maybe I’ll have more fun the second time around.
There is, of course, one big stumbling block. 
I really don’t like Transistor’s story.
Now, I wouldn’t have said Bastion’s story was something praise-worthy. It existed in a functional sense and there general confusion of the world was an alright motivator for keeping the player intrigued. Truly, the biggest draw of Bastion’s narrative was the narrator himself. Had they a less robust and powerful voice actor, I think the plot’s general lack of… well… everything would have cropped up more in criticism. Transistor has that problem. It’s sole voice, some unidentified benefactor who took the sword blow for Red in the opening, is an alright actor. He is no Rucks but it is a passable performance. Unfortunately, because he doesn’t have that engaging delivery, the fact that the vast majority of time he’s called upon to spout nonsense really stands out. He also narrates perhaps one of the least convincing love stories since the latest Final Fantasy release. What really got me, however, is how more obtuse Transistor is. Bastion wasn’t particularly forthcoming with its narrative structure and really we don’t have much more than racist scientists make a stupid superweapon that backfires and destroys their city. However, this seems like a coherently thought out and well developed line compared to Transistors.
Which is unfortunate because there’s some neat ideas floating about Transistor’s head. The game takes place in Cloudbank, a supposed futuristic super democracy where everything is tied to voting and public discourse. One of the examples that comes up frequently is that the citizens have the power to vote and decide the weather on a day to day basis. The villains of the game, a shadowy group called the Camerata, do not like this arrangement. They developed the transistor to stop this… because.
Motivation is super lacking in the game which makes some of the story’s twists seem rather… well… hollow when they occur. From what I can gather, the Camerata developed the Process–Apple-esque robots which serve as the primary mooks Red runs her circuitry through–in order to stop the constant changes in Cloudbank. And, in true Supergiant fashion, the Process immediately spiral out of control and are the force that are destroying the city… for reasons. Just like the Camerata, if you’re expecting some justification for these actions then you’re putting in more thought than Supergiant did. The villains’ goals are hand-waved away with a paradoxical creed that even on the shallowest look comes across as meaningless: “When everything changes, nothing does.”
The hell is that suppose to even mean? Don’t expect transistor to explain. There’s also the element that all the functions in the transistor are powered or fueled or inspired by individuals the Camerata identified and absorbed… also for reasons. Nothing makes sense because there appears so little effort to tie the ideas together. I couldn’t help but think how the game’s themes could be stronger and tie into the gameplay better with just a little more planning and forethought. For example, the player comes across a number of OVC terminals which generally just dispense news but always allow the player to either participate in a vote or comment on the news. What I would have liked to see is the idea that the player’s voice in these matters really means nothing. Have it so no matter what the player chooses, the end result is always the opposite of what they picked. Make it even more clear that no one is reading the comments and have that impact the story’s progression. This would tie in nicely with the protagonist’s literal loss of voice and the transistor could shift less into some bizarre weapon meant to–I think–have complete control over the city’s malleable form and turn it into a repository for individuals and their consciousness. The Camerata could view themselves closer to a stewardship rather than moustache twirling mad scientists who see the loss of valuable individuals in the overwhelming sea of public opinion. Their prior targets, instead of being prominent people always poorly excused for why no one found their disappearances distressing, be instead individuals who had great merit or skill but either fell from grace or could never curry the public’s favour to get the recognition the Camerata felt they would deserve.
This would elevate the game from a simplistic bad guy wants to take over the world and perhaps take a look more at problems in a system that its audience is going to consider inherently good. Red could, instead of being a highly successful singer overly self-conscious about her public impact into a struggling artist adorned by few and failing to build the fanbase she needs. Then, perhaps, her mysterious lover’s sacrifice and consistent loyalty would be all the more powerful. All I felt over the closing montage as relationship to Red was revealed was how absurdly hamstrung it felt. The sword first confesses his love to Red when high off Process vapors (or whatever) as though this confession were some great secret when it’s made immediately clear that the two were in a relationship when she pointlessly commits seppuku by his body.
Like I said, the love story is atrocious. But really, the story in general is atrocious because, much like the combat system, Transistor struggles from having too many disparate elements with no clever way of tying everything together. It’s a poor mish-mash in the end that reveals far too starkly how reliant the company is on the success of its first product. And really, you had the perfect set-up for there to be four main boss battles with the different Camerata members. How the company bungled this opportunity still baffles me.
The art, though, is really pretty. I think it’s the only thing I like better than in the original.
The Most Lonesome Road
Obsidian hates endings. I make this bold proclamation after going through the wonders of Neverwinter Nights 2, its expansion Mask of the Betrayer, Knights of the Old Republic II: the Sith Lords and–to a lesser degree–Alpha Protocol. Neverwinter ends with a rather lackluster battle followed by a super unsatisfying ending told through slides about how your noble and courageous party were all crushed by falling rocks in the evil baddies inevitably structurally unsound lair. Mask of the Betrayer’s start pulls a fast one by revealing that you didn’t actually die but are now part of some near immortal campaign against the Lord of Death’s wall of damned souls. You gather your allies, storm his city on an extradimensional plane and… stumble around the most barren municipality before the Lord of Death shows up, slaps your soul into your hands then sends you on your way with a pat on your bum. No one needs to go into detail about how rushed the Sith Lords was nor how its ending is bafflingly incoherent if you haven’t peered into the design documents to glimpse what was meant to be fashioned before the game was packaged and kicked out the door before it was done.
Alpha Protocol’s was probably the best of the bunch though its set battle pieces were rather ham-fisted given how reactive the rest of the narrative had been up to that point.
Fallout: New Vegas, Lonesome Road and all other trademarks belong to Bethesda and Obsidian in equal turn.
Of course, Fallout: New Vegas continues Obsidians writhing hatred for closure. The battle for Hoover Dam is, much as Mask of the Betrayer, pretty lifeless and uninspired given all the work you’re tasked with leading up to it. I suppose a plane flies over at some point and fire bombs some suckers which is kind of fun.
What does this have to do with the downloadable content? Well, my prior reviews of New Vegas’ DLC had talked about how they were building up this personal, interwoven and persistent antagonist. Unlike the foes at Hoover Dam who basically sort of pop up at the last moment to be slapped around a little like eager puppets in a whack-a-mole distraction, the player has three separate stories constantly speaking of this mysterious Ulysses. In fact, Ulysses had been ghosting the player’s steps long before Obsidian even got around to creating these final four morsels to round out the remaining ideas of their long cancelled Van Buren. One of the first things the player learns is that the courier mission which saw them to the world’s shallowest grave wasn’t initially even meant to be performed by the player. It was Ulysses who passed on the simple task after seeing you were next in line for the position. This uncharacteristic action haunted me until Lonesome Road was finally released. Here, at last, would be a grand personal reveal that would carry far more weight than the detached foes of Caesar’s Legion and the New California Republic who are far more obsessed with water and power than some shmuck who spends his time running up and down mutated roads.
Needless to say, there was a lot of build up for this story and thus there exists no word which can properly describe the disappointment felt when Lonesome Road concluded and its ending slideshow rolled across my screen.
Now, most people complain that the primary problem with Lonesome Road is its incredible linearity. I take no issue with this. It seems clear to me that Lonesome Road was conceived as the ending for New Vegas which Obsidian had no time or manpower to create. Honestly, its title insinuates that there isn’t going to be much to this story. I was fully prepared for a long, narrow walk down an uncompromising path with only my will set against Ulysses. In my mind, this would be the culmination of a very specific technique of narrative development Obsidian has toyed with multiple times in the past. The Sith Lords is perhaps the most elegant execution. Your character is one of maybe a handful of individuals who have been cast from the Jedi Order. However, the exact details for this expulsion and the motivation for you to accept it are somewhat shaped by the players own decisions. A lot of it is smoke and mirrors, of course. Despite their interactivity, video games will never have the same sort of creative back and forth between designer and player as a tabletop role-playing game. There is a fascinating interplay between player and character knowledge in the game, however. The player learns things which the character knows while simultaneously making decisions often with only half the understanding. Based on those decisions, the character’s past motivations are determined. It takes a very specific view of role-playing. Instead of making the character, the player is taking on a specific role. This comes up again in Alpha Protocol. While the player has control over the motivations and reactions for Michael Thorton, they don’t create his entire back-story or personality.
Not actually Lonesome Road but my screenshots were pretty limited.
It had been my hope that Lonesome Road would take the same risks. Given how much Ulysses prattles about how your actions formed him just as severely as the world of Fallout was formed by the cataclysmic nuclear war, I anticipated personal revelations which would reshape my entire view of the New Vegas story proper.
This doesn’t happen. Instead, Obsidian has fabricated some complicated scenario which ravages a place simply called The Divide. I can’t help but taste wasted potential across the entire length of the story. To me, Obsidian wanted to tell this kind of story but they simply didn’t know how. Maybe the build up had proved too much, I can not say. However, the themes–as limited as they are–on the Lonesome Road all explore the stripping away of the superficial differences between Caesar’s Legion and the NCR. Here, both serve as enemies as the endless red dust storms and radiation have reduced both to near mindless ghouls who work together insofar as to destroy any intruders into this ruined sanctuary. Ulysses is unabashed in denouncing you for creating this particular wasteland. You as both the player and character are equally baffled by this judgement. It does the story no justice that most of it is told through Ulysses’ discarded journals which require discovering. Ulysses himself is far too obtuse and poetic to communicate anything and unlike the other DLC there is no supporting cast to offer further clarification. The only friendly entity is a copy of the robot ED-E who only beeps (and only beeps about some stupid children’s show because it’s far more important to detail a robot’s background than the protagonist’s).
Through the rambling, it seems the player made a delivery to a town on the Divide which somehow started up because the courier made frequent passes through the Divide while doing deliveries. It’s hard to gauge a chronology partly because there’s so few points of reference and partly because Ulysses prefers the sound of his own voice over making sense. I can’t help but feel some of the vagueness is in part because it was so hard trying to wiggle Lonesome Road’s story into the greater New Vegas whole. At some point it was a major focus in the fight between the NCR and the Legion even though no one talks about the Legion penetrating that far into NCR territory (or even that the Divide was that necessary of a supply line). Another major problem is that the player determines the Courier’s age, so it seems really strange if you’re playing a young Courier how they could have possibly been employed long enough to discover, chart and ultimately lead enough people to the Divide for a town to grow up before the Courier ultimately delivers a package which brings about its end.
This mysterious package, it turns out, is the activation code for the numerous nuclear warheads scattered throughout the Divide. Apparently, in the Old World, the Divide was a major military outpost with hundreds of nuclear armaments pointed towards China. Ulysses’ plan is to return to this location and launch the warheads at both the NCR and Legion–since he sees them as one and the same. He requires your presence for some sense of poetic justice, I think. From what I can gather, he was in the Divide when the Courier unintentionally delivered the package that tore it apart so he was one of a few “sane” survivors. The Courier, somehow, delivered the activation orders and pissed off before the explosions since there is at no point any response that indicates the character’s knowledge differs from the player’s. And the player certainly doesn’t know anything about this place before stepping in it.
Real bad-asses don’t look at explosions.
Ultimately, it’s a jumbled mess. Even as I try to write this review, I can’t recall the content very well. Unlike the last three, there’s very little that’s memorable about a journey which should have been the crowning achievement for the entire game. I know I was grossly disappointed with how slap-shod all the prior references to Ulysses ended up becoming. His meddling in Honest Hearts, Dead Money and Old World Blues turns out to be incredibly incidental. His plan is haphazard and carelessly thrown together. The player is offered a choice at the end of the road–whether to bomb the NCR or Legion (or both or none)–though there isn’t any truly compelling reason given to do either. Ulysses’ desire is framed as villainous though it’s not justified nearly as well as any of the other antagonists. One of the highlights of New Vegas, for me, is how understandable Caesar is when you sit down with him. Sure, he’s a slaving, misogynistic asshole hellbent on a megalomaniac conquest spree but at least you can understand how he got where he was. Likewise, Elijah’s obsession is well established and explained so when you hunt him down and see the extremes he’s gone to you know how he got to the end of his road. Both offer far more compelling antagonists than Ulysses and neither had as much time devoted to them.
Lonesome Road is simply yet another disappointing ending in a long series of disappointing endings. Perhaps its best accomplishment is its visual design which does convey a sense of tragic destruction near wiped clean from the greater Fallout universe with the passage of time. You look over the Divide and get a sense of what the world would have been just after the bombs fell. Standing atop the ruined overpasses running through a city seared of its identity, there’s an awesome horror at the massive sense of loss and destruction. The best way to enjoy the Lonesome Road is probably by walking it alone, turning off Ulysses’ prattle in your ears and ED-E’s chirping by your side. A solitary stroll down a path the Fallout world has tread again and again across a land thrice devastated. With wind whistling through empty concrete windows like souls bemoaning from the abyss, you can’t help but truly think, “War. War never changes.”
New Year, Old World
‘Tis a bright and new year and what better way to start if off than with the age old tradition of retreading the works and achievements of yesteryear! Why, I couldn’t possibly imagine a better method of looking bright-eyed into our glorious horizon than staring straight behind at the road we just tread. Come with me on this fantastic journey as I go over the entertainment which I explored in glorious 2014 but had not got around to discussing.
I had, on a previous entry, espoused my love for Fallout: New Vegas and explained in subtle, vague terms how it was so much better than that derivative drivel Fallout 3. I looked at its first two DLC–Dead Money and Honest Hearts respectively–with a lick and a promise that I would cover the final two when I got around to them. Good new! I finished! Bad news. You get to hear about it.
Old World Blues was the third DLC released and is generally considered the best of the bunch. I can not refute this statement. In my prior post, I detailed how I enjoyed the ideas behind Honest Hearts and Dead Money even if the execution left a little something to be desired. They were, at the end of the day, an interesting look at the world going to hell. Dead Money revolved around the obsessive need of a billionaire eccentric desperate to keep himself and his little piece of earth from the consuming fires and destruction of nuclear devastation. He had, unfortunately, latched his sail to a sinking ship and when he discovered that the woman whom he would craft an entire world for meant to betray him, he turned his marvelous bomb shelter into an inescapable tomb. There was a very obvious and pulsing vein of greed running the entire course of the DLC and the little addition of personal player greed was a neat touch on an otherwise clunky and straightforward corridor experience. Honest Hearts, however, revolved around a dead and broken man’s devotion to redemption. Joshua Graham hoped to expunge the sins he committed in designing and raising the murderous Caesar’s Legion with the small defence and rescue of the Sorrows tribe from the villainous White Legs. The current running beneath the petty tribal dispute and the one between the last Mormons on Earth was the story of the Survivor and how his personal struggle following the fall of the nuclear bombs had irrevocably changed him as it had the world around him. He, too, hoped to keep the woman of his life alive through his recordings and memories, ultimately falling in the final years of his life with only the scattered memoirs to be unearthed by the player in the most remote caverns dotting the Grand Canyon.
Old World Blues is about talking robots.
Old World Blues and Fallout belongs to Obsidian Entertainment and Bethesda Studios in various legal ways beyond mortal ken. They are not mine.
Franchises are a curious thing. They, more often than not, live long past their creators and what they come to mean is often quite different than what was previously intended. Ask ten fans what Fallout is and you’re apt to get ten different answers. The first two DLC explore some rather personal and grim outcomes of total nuclear devastation. However, Fallout has never been entirely dark and emotional. There’s a bold splash of zany anachronism and otherness. It is slapped right on the front of the cover as a cheerful cartoon of Vault Boy often stands smiling and winking over a blazing mushroom cloud. It is the lingering fifties Americana wrapped about golden age science fiction devices which work through vacuum tubes and prayer than honest science. Turn on the radio and you won’t hear some futuristic sounds befitting a world struggling to rebuild in the year 2281 but the glorious melodies of Roy Brown, Danny Kaye with the Andrews Sisters, The Ink Spots and the Kay Kyser Orchestra. Mad Max-esque punk raiders and cannibalistic tribes are just as much Fallout as brains in a jar and red rocket laser weaponry.
Old World Blues is devouted to that last aspect. Once installed, the player is enticed to head towards Nipton’s Drive-In Theatre to enjoy the Midnight Feature which turns out to be a rather perplexed eye dancing across a faded screen projected from a fallen satellite. Whereas Dead Money you’re lured by the sultry tones of Vera Keyes, inquisitiveness is the only trait which gets the player to touch the satellite before they’re whisked away to the reclusive and secretive Big Mountain research centre. Here, the scientists of bygone America were sequestered in order to develop and prototype weapons necessary to win the war against filthy, Communist China. Part of their development included a holographic fence which served as a shield to shelter from radiation and bombs. Of course, the one thing the scientists didn’t develop against was the simple passage of time and the player is greeted by five floating tri-monitors eerily displaying a pair of eyes and an unmoving mouth as though that were all which is necessary to interface with biological specimens. The Think Tank of Big Mountain conquered death by simply shoving their brains in jars and hoping for the best. While they live on–in a sense–they lost any sort of connection to their humanity or sanity and devoted themselves to the noble and pure pursuit of science for science!
Part of that involved an experiment which destroyed most of Big Mountain and no one ever feels the need to expand further on that incident.
To Old World Blues credits, the Think Tank and their villainous colleague Mobius are well written. You get a sense of their character from their mad ramblings–a brief window into the peoples lives before time and science! stole any shred of individuality away from them. Ostensibly, you are left in Big Mountain to solve the puzzling puzzle of your brain being absent from your body (along with your heart and spine) as per regulation for all guests to Big Mountain. You are outfitted with cybernetic replacements, as are all lobotomites, but you exhibit the curious propensity for speech and thought despite lacking the traditionally required elements for such behaviour. As such, the Think Tank see as a sort of saviour–or at the very least a useful anomaly–capable of aiding their otherwise unarmed and unhelpful robotic forms against the unending tide of robo-scorpions Mobius unleashes on his erstwhile coworkers.
Of course, in order to properly assault Mobius in his ruined bunker to the north you must gather the three great MacGuffins scattered throughout the complex. It’s a rudimentary plot device meant to encourage the player out of the Dome and into the various laboratories around spacious Big Mountain. Old World Blues is less on linear narrative and more on Valve’s environmental telling. Most of the player’s understanding and learning of the complexes history is discovered from poking in every nook and cranny of the crumbling place. Here, too, is the ever persistent allusions to Ulysses and ‘the Grand Plan’ to be revealed in Lonesome Road but they are more in vein with Honest Hearts where it’s a rudimentary connection at best. There’s a bit more explanation for Christine Royce and what actually happened here to cause Dead Money to transpire but nothing of true note is discovered other than Ulysses supposedly learning something “important” from the Think Tank which they can’t remember or can’t be bothered to remember. For the most part, the narrative is well executed in this manner. It pulls on the sense of discovery and exploration which I enjoyed in Honest Hearts and some of the revelations tie back to the New Vegas proper like the origins of the dreaded Cazadores.
My biggest issue with Old World Blues, however, is that it is safe. There’s really nothing deeper beneath it. When you confront Mobius, the floating brain isn’t some madman with some gloriously thematic reasons for his nefarious actions. He’s just a rambling old brain addicted to Mentats and barely keeping his thoughts together. He realized that after their “immortality” the Think Tank lost all sense of their humanity and, should they ever get the motivation to expand beyond their protective bubble, they would turn into tyrannical science! tyrants far too willing to enslave and destroy the wider world outside to keep bodies fueling their ever more demented experiments. Thus, he reasoned that if there were a persistent threat upon their lives they would be more than happy to squirrel up in the basement of the Dome. Mobius didn’t so much steal your brain as rescue it from the plumbing and is more than happy to give it back–assuming you can convince your brain to come back with you.
Old World Blues most interesting moment is a dialogue challenge to convince your brain to join you on your grand, stupid adventures. It’s an interesting climax for a story, especially given how reactive it is to some of your prior exploits. It also is the perfect highlight of the absurd experience of Big Mountain though there is a cursory confrontation with the Think Tank where you can convince them to be good people if you’ve fulfilled the prerequisite Sunday Morning Special morality lessons for each of them. Or you can shoot them in the face. They really don’t have much in the way of defences even on very hard. And you’re apt to be armed to the teeth with barking mini-guns or singing sonic emitters.
Which I applaud the design for Big Mountain in that one regard. Unlike the past two DLC, Old World Blues is more amicable to wider character builds. There are energy guns, conventional weaponry and melee items with which to defend yourself. It’s–ultimately–the inverse of the prior DLC. The execution and design is top notch but the themes and motifs underlying it are rather shallow and uninteresting. Its light-hearted (to Fallout’s degree) and the characters are entertaining so the writing remains consistent. I couldn’t help but shake that I was treading through cut content, however. There was a feeling that Big Mountain was more a museum than a laboratory which preserved all the ideas and locations which simply couldn’t make it to the final release. It doesn’t help that loading up New Vegas’ map shows a conspicuous large ‘crater’ in the northern corner which could very easily once hold the saucer remains of Big Mountain. And much like Dead Money, there’s an alternative ending depending on potential decisions to make in this space. It’s impossible to go through the area and not think “what if this were part of the original experience and it was integrated into the final act.” If, much like Dead Money, you could participate in the battle for Hoover Dam with crazed robots and lobotomites along with hologram fighters and a rust death cloud, I feel like the “gather your allies” story of New Vegas would have been all the richer.
As such, Old World Blues exists in the New Vegas world much as it does here: an optional place plucked from time and sheltered in its own little sphere waiting to be poked, prodded, probed and ultimately abandoned.
Malevolent Maleficent
As my brother has posted this is the holiday season, thus the lack of posting. It is also a time to catch up on entertainment. I have seen two movies of late: The third part of the Hobbit and Maleficent. Today I will write a short reflection on the latter.
Aurora, Maleficent and Crow (couldn’t be bothered learning this one’s name). Image from the internet.
Maleficent was meh. I had extremely low expectations having watched recent remakes like Mirror Mirror (very clean and simple) and Snow White and the Huntsman (truly terrible film). The movie did not exceed them. On the other hand, it was not frustratingly worse than I had expected.
Best scene in the movie – The Cursing of Baby Aurora by the Evil Maleficent. Image from the Internet.
Angelina Jolie had a great scene when she cursed the baby Aurora. Otherwise her acting was good, but not great. The acting of the other primary characters was terrible, while some of the tertiary characters were better acted. The visuals pulled heavily from Lord of the Rings. The vine monsters were kind of neat, but completely unnecessary (as were many of the elements). The story was a mess. The writing was terrible. And the world development was a mess.
The simple princess. Not the type to survive political intrigue, war, famine or even the hallways of her own castle. For an affectionate child, she was surprisingly unmoved by her father’s demise. Image from the internet.
Maleficent was trying to give a different perspective to the class Disney Sleeping Beauty while at the same time still retreading very familiar material. Unfortunately in attempting to make the villain sympathetic, Disney cleaned her up to heroic level. In order to accomplish this unnecessary feet, the writers had to create a different villain (the king, Aurora’s father) and kill all characterization of the other characters. Aurora came off as simple, in the classical sense. For a princess, Aurora did not fill me with confidence for the future of her land. She seemed the sort of oblivious individual that would get lost in her own castle.
The sort of Scottish, increasingly Evil King Stefan. Probably because he is an orphan and if I learned anything from the film it is that orphans do lots of damage to the land. Image from the internet.
I found Stefan (the king) a poorly organized character. He was an orphan (and that is sad), in order to make a connection to the fey Maleficent (also a sad orphan). Stefan was driven by greed to excessive and unexplained proportions. His actions seemed as inconsistent as his vaguely and randomly Scottish accent. By the end he was so irrationally evil that no one, including his perfect daughter, mourned his death.
Actually, this reflects a problem with the world building. One human kingdom is located next to a full blown fey kingdom. Naturally an all-powerful king rules over the Human lands. While the Fey live via democracy, at least until Maleficent goes on a vengeance kick and subjugates all the other, conveniently smaller fairies. Of course, when Maleficent is finally redeemed as a character at the end of the film she then crowns Aurora as Queen of the Fey kingdom – and yet no one sees this as a problem?
Also, if the Humans had been living next to the Fey for so long, why were they so surprised and baffled by magic? It should have been normal or at least explained why it was not normal. Also, after the Humans spontaneously declare war on the fey and Maleficent repels them at cost, why do three little fairies go to help the king and bless his daughter?
Why the wings? Well ’cause she is a fairy of course. Why is Maleficent a fairy? Umm… hmm… still can’t answer that one. Image from the internet.
At the end of the day the motivations for Maleficent becoming the evil sorcerer that she is famous for, were far from compelling. Her redemption was contrived. It was … not good. A better direction to take the story would be to start with the cursing. Then work out the why behind the actions. As my brother suggested, I wouldn’t redeem Maleficent. I would however explain in sympathetic terms why she became evil. It would be done in a way that while Maleficent’s actions were explained and understood, the audience could also sit back and see she was still evil and should not have done the curse. I also wouldn’t have her as a fairy, just a sorcerous. Furthers, since we know the story of Sleeping Beauty, I would not worry about having all the familiar elements. Why rehash old material when time could be better spent telling a new and interesting story. I also wouldn’t randomly make the King evil just to have a villain – Maleficent is the villain, the story should be why.
The bottom line: Maleficent took one of the greatest, most recognizable villains and forced her to be a weakly explained, psuedo-hero.
Wild Ways – by Tanya Huff
I do like Tanya Huff’s work – at least the portion of modern urban fantasy I have read (only a part of her published works). One of my favourite books is Summon the Keeper, which hosts hell in the basement of a bed and breakfast.
The book cover as found on the itnerwebs.
This post will focus on a different metaphysical charm-worker. Wild Ways is the sequel to the Enchanted Emporium, which introduces the Gale family. And really, after you peel back the layers of magic and fey (which are not offensively used), the banter and the various romantic elements you have a story about family; a slightly twisted and off-kilter family.
Family is at the heart of these stories. Family provides both the antagonists and the protagonists. Sure there are a few non-family elements. In Wild Ways, Aunt Catherine continues to manipulate the Gales into doing her bidding. But there are a few scattered others to act as additional villains: trolls, goblins and ethically-challenged oil corporations.
The focus of the story falls to Charlie, as she tries to find her place in the weave of the family. Being a Wild One means that she is different. Her powers are different and her role in the family is different. It is a difference she has come to embrace, yet on some level she still is struggling to understand her position in the overall whole. Jack, the sorcerer-dragon Gale boy, echoes this struggle as he also is learning what it means to be part of the family and how to cope with that place.
One thing I really appreciate in Huff’s writing is her use of diversity. Her characters have different skin colours, sexuality and power. Her villain is understandable. The motivations of all the antagonists are explained. While their actions might seem a bit over the top, they make sense. I understand why the ethically-challenged corporate president was trying to force an oil well into protected habitat. Do I side with the environmentalists? Well yes. But I completely understand the desperate the woman faced as she tried to do her best by the company.
I like the way the book is set in Canada, without making a big deal about its setting. There is no explanation about how Canadian the Maritimes are. Rather, it is treated as a setting. It adds something to the overall flavour without trying too hard. It is also nice to read about places I have actually travelled to. Since I am not American, I do not have a personal connection to the popular story locations of New York, Washington and wherever else. I have, however, been to Cheticamp and Louisburg in Cape Breton.
I have not, however, followed the Celtic music festival. I suppose that you could also say the book was about the power of music, the potential created when eager and talented individuals musicians come together to enchant the audience (sometimes in the literal sense of the word, other times figuratively).
In short, Wild Ways was a well written, entertaining book. I look forward to reading the next in the series, which I shall hopefully pick up from the library this weekend.
Transform the World
Windy is a terrible person. He takes unnatural delight in his cult practices, hidden away in dank basements or shadowed groves in order to perform his profane chants and adulations. I can only assume old, musty robes and plenty of candles are involved. I do know that this communion is with the most vile and unholy spirits because it–without fail–interferes with my chances of victory.
The contributors of somewherepostculture (barring one by her own volition for which we shall all shame her) have been obsessed with a little German game called Terra Mystica. I am not certain how to describe it. Kait says it’s ‘ugly.’ I don’t know if that’s really a good, qualitative assessment but when you first open up the box, it does look intimidating. My first encounter with the game was during one of our many forays to a board game cafe. While waiting for significant others to arrive, Derek wanted to give a game a spin that would certainly be less enjoyed by the fairer sex while he had the time.
Terra Mystica is designed by Helge Ostertag and Jens Drögemüller. It is published by Feuerland Spiele. Check them out at http://www.terra-mystica-spiel.de/en/index.php
Two hours later we were buried beneath a mound of little pieces trying to puzzle out how to get our respective race/factions to trot further along the victory point (VP) border while I madly searched for a way to wage war against my counterpart. There isn’t any, outside of actual physical aggression and this game is certain to inspire a little of that. But in a good way.
The closest analogy I can give for Terra Mystica is the game Settlers of Catan. Every player is trying to create the best infrastructure on a limited map with only so many resources to go around. There aren’t any outside threats and the only random element is during the game’s initial set-up. Not a dice is to be seen, which is a quality that always piques my interest. So there is no robber running around to grab your sheep and there’s no sitting forlorn as turn after turn goes by without any of your damn forests producing wood.
Another large departure from Settlers is the multiple avenues for generating VP. There are two scoring qualities at the end of the game (three with the new expansion Ice and Fire where the third is, once again, randomly chosen at the start). Players are ranked by how large their connected settlements and towns are and how far they’ve advanced in the earlier mentioned cults. The first three players get descending point rewards for their efforts. Connections and infrastructure scores better than taking the lead in the cults but there are four cults which have the potential to score you more if you dominate them.
Even laid out organized, this board scares me.
Potential is the keyword here. For it is quite easy for your opponents to muck up your plans. There is no way to wage bloody combat on your nemesis and thus the game focuses around the scramble to gather the limited pool of resources and hexes upon which you build your fledgling outposts. The last major departure from other games is that Terra Mystica features asymmetrical game play. For every different terrain hex in the game, there are two factions which call that landscape home. The ultimate goal of each faction is to transform the world into their preferred environment, like tourists immediately descending on air conditioners wherever they vacation. Each faction brings different strengths and abilities to the table. There are the dwarves, renown for their tunneling ability and to pop out of the ground to raise mountains out of molehills where once you thought they were cut off. There are the mischievous darklings who delight in nothing more than sending their priests out to convert all those wonderful rivers and plains into delicious, delicious swamps. Or there are the engineers who would rather not fuss around fighting for scraps of land but like to concentrate their efforts on raising magnificent bridges to connect their homes in awe-inspiring design.
The trick (because there always is a trick) is that the terrain transformations cost different numbers of spades depending on how different your detested land is from your home land. If I love swamps, then it only takes one spade to change rivers and hills into them (presumably because they’re already wet?). However, it takes three spades to change wastelands and mountains. Spades, by their nature, are incredibly hard to come by (unless you’re those rascally halflings) and thus factions will naturally steer away from the lands of their complete opposites. The game doesn’t allow factions of the same land in the game, so even in your choice of who to play there exists a strategic element. Do you want to be the neighbourly auren and fight those dwarves for their precious mountains or choose the cultists and politely avoid much conflict over terrain?
There’s a further complication in planning. Every faction has five different kinds of structures they can erect with each providing different bonuses. Dwellings provide homes for more workers. Temples give you favours from the divine and train priests. Strongholds unlock a special ability for your faction to demonstrate your true might or make your inherent ability even better. The dwarves are able to use less workers to create their tunnels when they have the awesome might of their fortress to inspire their drunk asses.
And resources are scarce so you’ll never have enough coins or workers to build what you want. You also need shipping levels if you want to cross those pesky rivers bisecting the map and there’s your ‘dig level’ to upgrade if you don’t want to throw legions of workers at that damn mountain to turn it into more pleasant desert. Each round also rewards building different structures. When a Dwelling Bonus round turns up, you can expect a massive explosion of homes from every faction across the board. But do you hold off building your dwellings for those bonus rounds or do you plunk them down for more return in your investment as well as staking your land from would be thieves. You can’t lost any hex you’ve built on which is the only assurance you have in the game.
It’s a complicated game, that’s for certain. However, that initial overwhelming sensation when you dump the thousand pieces out of the box belies the game’s simplicity. The core mechanics are pretty simple once you get a hold of them (with the sole exception of the niggling rules for your power bowls) and the hardest part of the game is all the different factors coming together for each turn. There’s a lot of cognitive load to balance when you take an action. Do your enemies have enough resources to block your natural expansion? Are they going to take the bonuses that you need in order to get your temples up on their bonus round? Will Windy ever stop taking the damn cult tile?!
The dreaded Darklings (who may or may not be my favourite faction). Mad props to you if you can understand what any of that board means on first read.
Terra Mystica is a fantastic game. For a board game, it’s pretty complex but compared to something like Magic: the Gathering or Netrunner it seems positively straightforward. However, after eight games I still don’t grasp the best nuances of its strategy. And the more players you add, the more you have to wiggle around their petty plans. There’s something to be said where your rise and fall is solely determined by your ingenuity and ability to predict the actions of your opponents. It’s the kind of game play that gets you coming back week after week to face your friends. With so many different factions and even new boards (in the expansion) there’s so much variety that ‘the perfect strategy’ is never clear and always changing.
After all, exploitation of your enemies needn’t be so blatant as a cudgel. You can instead figure out their goals, let them commit their resources to expanding their network, then snatch that last bridge or hex before they’re able to connect it all and leave them with two disjointed and pathetic settlements and no other alternative for getting victory. Assuming, of course, they stop sending their priests to that damn air cult!
Even civil engineers can be uncivil.
The Hungriest Games
A winner is me! It’s the post novel writing month and I’m still riding on those loose vapours of having conquered the task. Course, for a novel titled Mary Creek’s Blood there’s a conspicuous lack of the sanguine but what can you do?
This joyous time means, of course, we return to our regular posting schedule. And since it is the season to be festive and celebratory, I’m going to begin it with a delightful review! Oh, how wonderful is holiday criticism.
Let’s move on to the typical prefacing. I want to first establish that just because one finds fault or flaws in a work does not make it bad or worthless. Look back across our long history of culture and you’ll find flaws in just about any great work. The Statue of David, after all, has enormous hands and a head. Apollo Belvedere has the exact opposite issues. Nothing crafted by human hands has ever been perfect and even my favourite art has nits which can use some picking. Criticism does not equate to quality or a lack there of. Beneath its surface, criticism is simply an engagement with a piece and the extended conversation between crafter and audience that has always been intricate since the moment some old man gathered his cave-children around a fire to tell them of the first buffalo to roam the plains.
And my verdict is!
Now with that said, The Hunger Games is a bad movie.
Alright, this isn’t the most topical of discussions but if anyone thought I was going to be rushing out to the theatre to see the opening feature of the Hunger Games Trilogy then, well, they don’t know me at all. I had full intentions of not seeing/reading/experiencing this teen drama since I had already read Battle Royale by Koushun Takami. And if you’re over the age of eighteen, I think it’s pretty safe to say that you’d consider the Japanese version not only the predecessor but the superior telling of the story.
All that said, I didn’t even like Battle Royale. I felt it suffered the Lord of the Flies syndrome but this isn’t a Battle Royale review so that is neither here nor there. Obviously, I’m going to only examine the film and the unfairly compare it to the much more developed medium of Battle Royale‘s book form. Will anyone be surprised when the film ultimately come across as more shallow? I hope not!
First, the customary preamble:
The Hunger Games follows spunky, go get ’em Jennifer Lawrence as the eponymous Catnis (Catniss? Katnis? Katniss?) of District 12. The movie makes immediately clear the crushing poverty which Catnip lives with her younger sister and ambiguously employed mother in old timey Midwestern Quaker America. She leads an exciting life of hunting boar from the King’s forest and eating the local cake shop owner’s burnt and soggy bread while courting a budding romance with young Throbheart McHandsome. This delightfully dirty pastoral life could not last and her whole world comes crashing down in traditional fashion with the arrival of a spaceship delivering the Queen of the Oompa Loompas.
Here, the quaintly townsfolk are gathered up to perform Shirley Jackson’s The Lottery, replete with coal miners, surprising in the frankness of its name: The Reaping. Course, the twist here is that instead of males over sixteen being candidates, we’ve decided to only make children between the ages of twelve and eighteen eligible. This is for reasons obviously beyond trying to appease the target market demographic, I am certain. There is, of course, some propaganda video with some bullshit reason explaining the historical context for this system which is apparently in place for seventy-five years, but so unbelievable is that explanation that I’ve already forgotten it.
Of course, Catnip’s sister gets selected as one of the “Tributes” to the Capitol (because subtlety is a lost art in the future) and Catnip boldly steps forward to volunteer in her place.
This was when I did a “bwuh?” moment. Anyway, everyone gasps, Catnip walks forward, Strawberry Shortcake draws the male representative and our two heroes board a hover train to be whisked away from their shitty lives of digging in mud to reach the very short terminus of their lives. This is where the story really deviates from Battle Royale, however. And it’s not just because they meet Woody Harrelson aboard the train.
As the audience quickly discovers, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was apparently the only classic work to survive whatever terrible war tore America apart in this speculative future and everyone is dressed as garishly as possible while they stroll through a city plucked from the doodlings of Steve Jobs. Here, Catnip learns that the games are essentially a gussied up Miss America competition but instead of a swimsuit competition to round off the finales, contestants are instead expected to either starve off their competition (that shouldn’t be hard in a Miss America contest) or bludgeon them to death with whatever item is nearby.
And to think people draw parallels between modern America and the Roman Empire.
The workings of the games, it seems, are based around impressing the crowd in the Capitol and acquiring sponsors to send you little robotic crates like kill streak goodie crates in Call of Duty. We’re then treated to an extended portion where Lenny Kravits tries his best Chris Tucker from the Fifth Element impression while dressing Catnip in the most garish costumes that a fevered teen author can imagine. Catnip scopes out the competition during their four days of officiated training and interviews are held with each contestant before a crowd all to eager to gasp and laugh as though the tele-prompters were all equipped with semi-automatics.
We’re well past the hour before the actual games begin and here we see the second largest departure from Battle Royale. Around half the contestants are killed in the first four minutes of the games and Catnip spends most of the time climbing trees and hanging out with bees than partaking in any actual “game.” Of course, she gets help from some spunky little girl meant to warm the cuckolds of our hearts before she has the grace to be killed by someone else other than Catnip (seriously, what was your plan in befriending the little girl?) which justifies the only real kill Catnip performs in the entire game. She then spends most of her time caring for Peter, the male representative of her Mudville commune while hiding in caves and waiting for the game makers to get bored and release mutant dogs to conveniently eat anyone who happens to be left.
(The Hunger Games is property of Lionsgate and Suzanne Collins and whoever else)
There’s a customary “battle” of sorts with the one contestant who was dressed as a roman soldier during the opening ceremonies and is blonde haired and blue-eyed so we can only assume he’s meant to be a Nazi stand-in. But even this villain is pretty unconvincing as he taunts Catnip while holding Peter at knife point with such blood-chilling lines like “Kill me. Or don’t. It doesn’t matter.”
He falls off their post-postmodernist pez dispenser and is eaten by dogs before Catnip may or may not have delivered a mercy shot from her iconic bow before the “star-crossed lovers” who may, or may not, be actually in love or just hamming it up before the camera in order to gain more sponsorship, realize that some pointless ploy by the game makers to allow two winners for the games is really a ruse (elegantly revealed by the game makers themselves making a broadband announcement because they feel having 12-18 year olds enact a bloodsport isn’t evil enough). Catnip threatens to do a joint suicide with Peter which forces them to deliver truly on their earlier promise to let the pair live and crown them victors.
Cue the celebration montage and Catnip and her on-again, off-again heartthrob returning home amidst smiling faces and fluttering confetti as though the fact that she killed two children is something worthy of celebration.
Hit the credits, prep secondary camera crews and get filming started on the sequel because we can rake in tons of cash from the teeny-boppers with this nonsense.
Seriously, there’s so much to discuss why The Hunger Games is the poor Midwestern coal miner’s version of Battle Royale. But for me, the lasting issue is I have no idea why this thing exists as a piece of art. It’s purpose is lost on me.
There appears to be three key elements that are more jarringly thrown together than the Halloween costumes of the Capitol citizens and their pristine, clean white buildings. We have the opening set-up of a post-war dystopian America organized into a tyrannical and yet oddly absent totalitarian government. As though tutu Nazis weren’t intimidating to begin with, the fences erected around District 12 are unmanned and Catnip slips between them rather effortlessly to hunt amongst the plentiful forests with just a half-hearted scolding from Chiseled Dreamman that this is dangerous/bad/mildly unacceptable. There is a sense that the government is suppose to be all domineering, complete with cheap Star Wars Stormtrooper knockoffs that show up to perform the Reaping on the children (which sounds worse than it actually is). Furthermore, the fact that you can volunteer for the games gives a somewhat mild alternative to the cold-hearted ripping of twelve year old children to throw mercilessly into a gladiatorial arena.
I mean, they make mention that one district trains up their children for the games and has them volunteer every year. Why every district doesn’t do this is beyond me. You would think that a responsible community with apparently no motivation to organize an uprising (since they’re not actually oppressed-see the complacent absence of the froo froo Capitol “army” earlier) would at the very least teach some people what skills they can to give their children a fighting chance in the games. I suppose this sort of kindheartedness was lost on the future Quakers because they were too busy making sure their mud was still properly muddy.
Contrast this with Battle Royale. Here, the government chooses a single graduating class amongst all the high schools in the country seemingly at random. Everyone knows this will happen but prays that the odds are in the favour (and generally speaking they are given that only one class is taken and there are a lot of schools in Japan). Here, the government literally kidnaps the students, going so far as to execute teachers who try to interfere with the process. They are then whisked away to some random location in the country which changes every year. The people of said area are forcibly evacuated for the duration of the games without so much a “Sorry Ma’am.” There is a heavy implication that the whole point of the games in Battle Royale is to instill fear and obedience in the populace. The twist, however, is that the government is simply corrupt (shocking!) and they only maintain this barbaric murder spree because it’s become somewhat of a bureaucratic gambling event.
My first instinct given the opening act of The Hunger Games was that we would get this very same “totalitarian governments are evil” shtick. However, when Catnip and Peter are whisked away to the city, there is no sense that we’re really suppose to feel these games are horrific. The contestants are treated like celebrities and past winners languish in comfort and luxury. Furthermore, everyone seems excited and the games is treated more like American Idol than anything else.
Thus, I began to wonder if this was ultimately a criticism of American media and its exploitation of the people it sucks in. An immediate comparison would be the Toddlers and Tiaras show and the whole controversy surrounding child pageants.
But, no, the movie never really explains that the system is bad. In fact, it celebrates the ingenuity of Catnip for manipulating it in her favour. Sure, District 11 gets angry and tries to riot when their little girl gets speared but outside of that, everyone seems pretty damn happy with the conclusion of the 74th Hunger Games. There isn’t any sense that the audience themselves are part of the problem. Outside of the stupid costumes of the Capitol citizens, they’re mostly portrayed as blank individuals there to cheer blindly on for our protagonist as we, the viewer, cheers her on simply because she is the heroine and that is what you do.
Finally, we have the games themselves. Battle Royale is almost entirely composed of its combat. It goes into great detail about each student, often right before they are horribly killed in ever escalating orgasmic feats of violence and murder. The Hunger Games, on the other hand, is incredibly shy about its actual games. It’s like the author didn’t actually want to write about the bloodsport with almost all the people either dying away from Catnip and off screen or to rather mild methods (single shots from thrown spears, arrows or hilarious and not-graphic ‘neck snaps’). There isn’t any real exploration of how this absurdly barbaric event would really impact the people involved either. The “villainous” contestants essentially form a jock squad of bullies going around pantsing the nerds and giving them swirlies. Catnip befriends the outcasts and everyone seems quite content to ignore the fact that they are all stuck there until everybody but one is killed! Seriously. You would think the district which supposedly trains its children the hardest for these games would have drilled into them “Trust no one!” There is no benefit in grouping up with people and then blithely falling asleep at their side. Had Peter been so inclined, he could have slit the throats of about five of the contestants, bringing the movie to its conclusion a good half hour early.
So, I have no idea why this book exists. It’s like three half baked ideas which no one really wanted to explore. The horrors of dystopian totalitarian military states? Nope, that’s never touched. The exploitative and inhuman way media treats and views both its stars and audience? Nope, the media is wonderful and really we just celebrate those that succeed within it! The senseless and gross loss of value in the death of an individual especially for something as banal and pointless as a sport? Nope, we view the survivors as heroes and the losers are very quickly forgotten for adoration and accolades. There is no reason for Catnip, after surviving the games, to blithely answer the master of ceremonies about how she found love and everything is wonderful. She should have condemned Flickman, the audience and even the government for how disposable they were. Why are people all applause and grins when Rue died and no one cares? Catnip went so far as to build a rather extravagant pyre for the girl and then never thinks of her again.
There is no reason to create this cold-hearted set-up if you’re not even going to use it. There’s a whole lot of nothing going on in this movie. There’s no commentary on the value or disposability of life. It’s a watered down, friendly version of Battle Royale which by its nature is neither of those. The Hunger Games is, ultimately, forgettable. At its best, it’s mild entertainment meant to distract and appease for its brief flutter across the eyes of its readers. But there’s no punch to it. There’s no depth. It’s only so much fluffy pink dress and horrible CGI flames that’s all too quickly forgotten after the next spectacle comes rolling through.
www.Wake – Book Review
Yes this is November. Yes that means that I have been busy juggling work, job applications and the yearly Nanowrimo challenge. Does this mean I haven’t read anything? Well, not quite. I have read, though considerably less than at other points in the year. What I have been reading has been largely ridiculous and thus not worth the bother of writing a review (or too embarrassing to admit that I read that trash).
The book I am reviewing today is www.Wake by Robert J Sawyer. It came highly recommended by a person at work. The individual was so enthusiastic that they mentioned this book on some half dozen occasions over the past year. Even though they know I am more of a fantasy and less of a sci-fi reader.
Book cover, image from the intelligent internet. Careful – it is watching you.
Well, partly out of boredom and partly out of stress I borrowed www.Wake from the library. I was told it was a story about a blind girl who had an implant that let her interface with the internet where she discovered intelligence (AI). It was a stupid sounding plot. It was also strangely misleading.
So what was the story about? Well it is about a corner of the internet gaining consciousness. It is also about an orangutan-bonobo hybrid demonstrating the ability to learn language and starting to paint in perspective. And yes there is also a blind girl, who undergoes a procedure designed to correct her vision problem. There is also a conspiracy/cover-up in China just to add more tension. In short there is a lot going on. While most of the secondary strands are simplistic they all contribute to the ideas of flow of information, self-awareness and identity.
The book is first and foremost well-written. The plot progresses at a reasonable pace. A lot work is done to build realistic and complex characters. Even more time is spent trying to develop different perspectives. I really liked the geeky math-based humour that actually had me laughing as I read.
A number of interesting and potentially controversial ideas are raised. I am of two minds about this. On the one hand it might get people thinking, which is always a good thing. On the other hand, real science doesn’t support these ideas. The idea that humans did not gain true consciousness until some 1000 BC is ludicrous. The arguments put forth for this idea (researched while I was reading the story) are easily countered by the simple fact that other civilizations existed around the world with written language. The book has an ape capable of meaningful communication – which real life has failed to produce. The concerns about the ape being a hybrid is really questionable. Most interspecies hybrids are sterile – which is why we have different species. While these points might be fun to think about or even talk about, they don’t hold up to modern science.
My other complaint comes from the authors efforts to make the story Canadian. There is nothing wrong with writing about Canadians. However, this one felt like he was trying too hard. Each Canadian-ism felt like it was being shoved in my face. The writing was smoother when Sawyer forgot he needed to reinforce the idea the story took place in Ontario and instead focused on the characters and their personal struggles.
Also, the birth of AI in the internet is silly. I may know next to nothing about programing, but this was clearly science-magic. AI is fine for a story. While I don’t personally find it compelling, others I understand like reading about it.
Summary: it is a well-written book. I enjoyed it despite all my complaints. That said, I have zero interest in the sequels that round out the trilogy so don’t expect more on this topic. Now back to my own sad scribbles.
The Alliance of the Century Part 2
So, I may have gone overboard with my prior post and ended up writing way too much about something that I haven’t even gotten my grubby hands on. So, instead of editing it down like a reasonable person, I split it into two parts. I’ll repeat my warning in the last post, just in case people forgot it. This is all purely speculation based on the cards revealed during the sneak preview on Plaid Hat Games website. I have no great insight into the game beyond what I’ve learned through playing with my kin. That said, my judgments are still good, damn it!
Summoner Wars and its art belongs to Plaid Hat Games and Cupidsart. Find Alliances at their website http://www.plaidhatgames.com
5. Fallen Phoenixes
I don’t care for the undead. I don’t really care for haughty elves either but at least they have the decency to look pretty. Unless they’re the Phoenix Elves. Then they have nothing going for them.
The Fallen Phoenix faction is… interesting. The Phoenixes trick was that they alleviated the inherent randomness of Summoner Wars by making many of their units hit for their strength in damage without needing to roll. The Fallen Phoenix take this idea and balance it. Now they have “precision” only when Immortal Elien spends magic to increase their die roll. So, you can still be screwed by bad rolling but if you’re David Windrim and rolling in the money, you can just throw enough magic at it to make the problem go away.
The Fallen Phoenix are the only faction to get really picky about what their abilities target. Good, old Karthus here only grabs Fallen Kingdom units from the enemy’s discard pile. Thankfully, alliance units count as both factions so out of the box there aren’t any worries. It’s an interesting idea though the execution is kind of a mixed bag.
The biggest downside to the faction, however, is that they are costly. Not only do you want a large pool of magic of Immortal Elien’s “cheating” but all three of his common units cost 2 magic. He wants lots of magic to kill things and he needs to kill things in order to have lots of magic. There’s a slight way for the Fallen Phoenixes to skirt around this. A few of their events have adopted the Fallen Kingdom’s raising of the dead though the triggers for these abilities are often rather specific and finicky. Karthus can pull your units but only from your enemy’s discard pile and if you pay for them. From the Ashes can pull them from your own discard but only if they’ve been killed by your units (and only those associated with the fire elves).
They’re strong but pricey and require just the right set-ups in order to excel. On the plus side, they have better all around options and Forced Conversions and Purge can really open up an opponent’s defence to let you break through and strike with those unerring Phoenix attacks.
6. Vargath Vanguard
Revenge of the ugly goats.
I like the idea behind the Vargath Vanguard but I can’t help but feel they’re a faction designed to make their parent factions better than to actually offer a good deck on its own. Moyra is a poor man’s Sunderverd. Seriously. Her special ability lets her grant 1 strength and 1 extra movement to a single common each turn within two spaces of her. Sunderverd gives all your commons 1 strength when close to him. The question here is whether 1 extra move is worth 2 overall strength.
Nay, I say. The Vargath Vanguard are all about positioning with all of their units getting stronger the closer you bunch up all your guys. But this sacrifices board control in order to make your units more powerful. Unfortunately, Moyra doesn’t really offer her units that much in terms of events or even her presence. Throw all her troops into Sunderverd and you’d have a much stronger deck. He allows repositioning with Muster and Fall Back. Greater Command lets him extend his influence to four spaces. Sure Superior Planning and Toradin’s Advance are dud events and while Moyra’s are stronger I just don’t think they’re strong enough to lose what Sunderverd offers.
And that is three cherubim attacking for 3 strength each turn. The largest failing for the goats was that in order to succeed they had to march themselves and their summoner across the board into enemy territory. Unfortunately, walls make it effortless to raise an overpowering defence that will chase them away. Now, Sunderverd can create a Roman Phalanx of impenetrable troops which loose endless volleys upon their enemies. Two cherubim sandwiching a defender gives both of them the Shield of Light power. Stick a crusader behind one and they’re under constant Blinding Light. Yes, both of these can be mimicked or played by Moyra but these effects don’t stack and are easily replicated by commons alone.
Moyra. I want to love you because you don’t wear boobplate. Unfortunately, it’s just not working. I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s me. (It’s totally you, you useless woman!)
That is kind of Moyra’s problem. Her strength is solely in her exportable cards. Her event suite isn’t terrible. It’s just unfocused. Lightning Strike is great but you only have one. Change Form is wonderful but incredibly time limited (to a single turn and thus very susceptible to Mimic as you must hold on to the event until the proper turn). Divine Intervention is not something you want to play if you’re planning on running Moyra in with Change Form and there situations where you want to trade summoner health for common health is pretty limited. Even more disastrous, her only healing option is Father Benny which, thankfully for Sunderverd, can also be carried out from her deck.
The Vanguard Vargath are interesting but ultimately underwhelming in all but the cards which will be poached by the Vanguard and Mountain Vargath.
7. Deep Benders
If Moyra was suffering from burglarizing then it’s an absolute epidemic of Endrich. The Deep Benders seem to have the opposite problem. They weren’t designed to make the Deep Dwarves or Benders better but to not be obsoleted by their powerful constituents. The Deep Benders offer an interesting mechanic with Boost but, unfortunately, the execution leaves something to be desired.
The general idea is that Deep Bender commons is kind of the inverse of Filth mutations. You can summon them on the cheap in order to get a mediocre unit or you can pump them up to make them really strong. Of course, you’re investing magic either way but you’re deciding at the point of summoning whether they are cheap or powerful.
Unfortunately for Endrich, he is entirely replaceable. His unique ability is a worse version of Sorgwen. Yes, you can combine the two to get a bonus two extra attacks after the attack phase. Unfortunately, Endrich has to be close to his target, they have to be boosted (thus restricting him to just the three commons in his deck) and you have to pay for it! Course, Endrich starts on the board but that’s less of a problem when you are Tacullu and can just search for Sorgwen with an Hero is Born event. Not to mention that Endrich can’t use his ability until he starts getting boosted units so he can’t double attack out the gate either (which would require building a magic pool as well anyway).
Nearly everything about the Deep Benders feels “balanced for Deep Dwarves and Benders.” The Owl Gryphon has lots of exacting requirements so he doesn’t combine with Tundle’s meditate. Which is irrelevant since Tacullu is going to be the one to grab the Gryphon in order to make him one of the top decks. The actual interacting with boost tokens is mostly in the commons themselves, which is Moyra’s issue. Endrich has a couple of interesting economy cards to try and play with the boost mechanic but it ends up being irrelevant because Tundle can meditate for his economy and Tacullu can grab the Owl Gryphon for his (on top of both generally playing incredibly defensive). Endrich, on the other hand, loses if he attempts to play defensive even with the Owl Gryphon being overpriced and useless on his arm.
Ugh, the Deep Benders are so infuriatingly bad, I’m just going to stick a Swamp Merc event card here instead. Look, it’s a worse version of Magic Pulse!
Basically, the stars need to align in order for the Deep Benders to win. They need to establish an economy advantage with opportune plays of Unlock and Reclaim then push that advantage with a fast assault from their Deep Dragons, Geopaths and Keodel. Course, this opens them up to the age old problems of turtling play. Magic Drain will cripple him and Endrich relies on his units for board control and economic tempo. Any event that outright murders his boosted commons will swipe what economic advantage he can wrangle with his boost tokens. And, ironically, Tacullu can just mind control his units if they try to assault him for a truly crippling economic swing that Endrich can’t respond.
Oddly enough, the overbalancing of the Deep Benders was directed at the summoner and his events when it should have been focused more on his units. It’s incredibly odd how poorly designed the Deep Benders appear especially since the route to take was done on the Cave Filth and Sand Cloaks above. Make them based around their Boost mechanic and the commons will be less valuable for the parent factions. Give Endrich lots of advantages for using boosted units to discourage him from poaching the super strong commons from the Deep Dwarves and Benders. Then you would have differentiated summoners without potentially unbalancing the game.
Instead, we have a summoner that looks underwhelming but brings lots of incredibly powerful tools to the factions that already held most of the good tools in the first place.
8. Jungle Shadow
Well, someone had to be on the bottom.
If Endrich and Moyra’s issues were lackluster abilities and events, Melundak’s is exactly what I rambled about in their entries. The Jungle Shadow have, by my estimation, the worst suite of units in the Alliance box. Granted, they don’t have the worst card, that still belongs to the Tundra Guild scribes, but their shadows, stalkers and shamans are certainly vying for that position.
The biggest issue with Melundak’s army is that they’re money pits. All three commons require extra expenditure of magic. To haste, spend 1 magic. Want to make your stalkers 2 strength? Spend 1 magic. Trying to maintain board presence with your shadow? Yup, spend another magic. And yet, Melundak has absolutely nothing to help generate magic for all these effects. Even worse, he has one of the best summoner abilities and nothing to use it on. Shadow Weave lets you treat any unit as a wall for a common once a turn. Hogar has to enchant his stupid golems to get that. Rallul needs to use an event. Glurblurgderp needs to cultivate his horticulture. Melundak, on the other hand, just wills someone to pop out of a furry.
If there’s one thing I really like about Alliances, it’s that the art is has noticeably improved almost across the boards. Unfortunately, if there is one point of criticism it’s that Cupidsart isn’t very good at drawing goatmen and other furries. Though, I have to wonder if that is truly a criticism…
But two thirds of his army are ranged with 1 health so want to come from his back walls anyway. It would be really good if he could extend his power to champions but all three of his champions come with extra mobility anyway so it’s irrelevant. Furthermore, Melundak’s events give bonuses to sneak attacks and greater movement which is wasted on his army composition. His deck is geared all around getting all up in his enemy’s face but its used on a force that wants to anything but that.
Melundak is the one summoner who just screams to be deck built. Almost any Jungle Elf unit in his deck is terrifying. The Shadow Elf champions are clawing to emerge from Melundak’s walls to rampage across the board. There’s an absolutely monstrous unit pool waiting just beyond Melundak’s grip and he was offered the possibly worst dregs of an alliance between his two factions. He’s the unwanted third child with nothing but raggedy hand-me downs while he gapes enviously at the sparkling toys in his siblings’ grasps.
And his units wouldn’t be too bad if they were lent to the Jungle or Shadow elves either (seriously, stalkers with Abua Shi are like lioneers that can be chant hasted). Together, they’re a horrible combination but I can see them being useful in separated pieces amongst the rest.
Barring shadows, of course. I still don’t see how they’re anything but a gimmick.