Immediately after my previous post, I went downstairs and completed the campaign (story-mode) for Modern Warfare 2. It's simply not as good as Modern Warfare 1. MW2 is a bit prettier and smoother, but as stories go, the sequel pales to the source. That said, the game sold almost 4 million (4,000,000) copies in a single day, making Activision (the game's publisher) more than $300 million--in a single day! As a comparison, Transformers 2 made just over $400 million between June and October.
It's a good game, and there are some multiplayer elements that I want to try, but the story forces my imagination to a place I don't want it to be. I am thrilled that games have come to a point where plot devices like this can work. I am thrilled that the airport sequence made it into the final game. Movies and books have long had implicit permission to make their consumers go to a place they'd rather not be, and video games' doing it shows the evolution of the art.
Now, my appreciating the significance and defending the developers' decision is not the same as my enjoying the fruits of their labors. Infinity Ward (MW1&2's developers) did fantastic things with an ailing genre and added some much-needed variety to a segment of games increasingly dominated by space marines and aliens. Infinity Ward has created two games that celebrate the effect an individual can have on the course of history. They've created experiences that underscore the difference between Right and Wrong, while reminding that the former is not always the easier path. If nothing else, their contribution to bringing video games beyond the waka-waka platformers of yesteryear is to be celebrated.
It's just a shame I don't much like their newest game.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Chris' Holiday Gift Guide for Tweens and Younger
I really like video games. I enjoy books and movies and art and all that stuff, too. But it's video games that truly have my heart. All forms of art have the power to elicit emotions. Even better: those emotions vary from person to person! It's a fantastic aspect of human creativity to create media that speaks to everyone, but says something different each time. Video games take that a step further by allowing the consumer to participate.
However, it's only recently that the technology behind video games allowed for a dynamic experience. Dragon Age: Origins is my favorite game right now because the choices I make matter. I can truly play the game as I want. Each character in my party is a dynamic personality that responds to everything I do. I can create a strong friendship so we can fight shoulder-to-shoulder with confidence or I can make an enemy who will try to slay me in my sleep. This is a game that has real (virtual) consequences to all my decisions.
I am compelled to play this game because the characters are interesting enough that I start to think about what I do next. Sure, killing this person may be amusing, but what will Morrigan think? In that case, she probably wouldn't mind, but it's an extra bit of immersion that I love.
Great games are the ones that make me swear at defeat and cheer at victory. I want to win the big battles and beat the main bosses and be the Ultimate Badass of my virtual empire. It's the perfect catharsis to wade into a sea of virtual bad guys (one could imagine them as managers, exes, or former gym teachers) and demolish them all with my ultimate badass weapon of badassery.
I've been saying for years that I want more games that make me care about whatever I'm doing. I want to feel the character's pain and share their triumph. I played a game that makes me wonder if a line has been crossed.
Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 is the sequel to my second-favorite First-Person Shooter (behind Halo) and has been more-than-a-little anticipated for a while now. The story: the uber-nationalist terrorists are bad and need to be destroyed.
MW1 took a bold chance by killing off a seemingly-main character early in the game. He gets caught in a nuclear explosion after stopping to rescue a stranded comrade. He didn't die immediately. You, the player, see the explosion and mushroom cloud just a moment before the pressure wave knocks your helicopter out of the sky. You wake up unable to walk, stranded in the smoldering chopper. You can crawl out to see the devastation, the razed homes and blown-out skyscrapers. All that's left is the swirling, Hellish wind that dares even stone to persist. And you. You keep crawling. Maybe there's a safer place to be. Maybe there's a health pack nearby (that magically survived). Maybe there's a checkpoint to reach. No, all that's left is death. You linger with your character as he gradually succumbs to burns and radiation before the screen goes white and the next level begins.
Nothing like that had ever happened before. Especially in an FPS. MW1 earned rave reviews for turning the players' perspectives and creating a new experience within a still-fantastic game.
MW2 keeps the momentum going, but with an interesting twist. As the game first boots up, the player is greeted with a disclaimer warning against objectionable material. That's pretty standard by now. After agreeing, the player gets another "are you sure?" sort of message. There's lots of ass-covering; I have to see what's gonna happen!
The second(-ish) level is the potentially-objectionable one in which the player--in deep cover--accompanies the uber-nationalist bad guys on their latest terrorist strike: powerful automatic weapons in a crowded airport.
Part of the success of MW1 is that it was, and still is, prescient. I've done some traveling recently and I have friends and family who travel quite often. For the first time in a long time, a video game made me uncomfortable. Even once the level loads, the player may pause and skip the level or simply not participate. There are hundreds of passengers.
I've never bought into most of the anti-video game rhetoric. Killing pixels is just different than killing people. The passengers are pixels and programming with no families, friends, pets, or soul. Inflicting enough mathematical damage so their renders are instructed to slump on the "floor" is a throw-away action for a gamer.
It was only afterward that I realized that's how our enemies see us. Perhaps sans the "mathematics" and "rendering" parts, but as, for all practical purposes, non-beings. It's a startling mindset to find and I know that it's a mindset that could be indoctrinated into the easily-influenced.
That said, I still don't believe video games are bad. Rather, they emphasize the importance of teaching kids right from wrong, real from fake as early as possible to keep fantasy from merging too permanantly with reality. Without that boundary, how does one perceive the "hordes of virtual bullies" that are so easily quashed in the game from just "the bully" tomorrow at school?
There's a reason video games come with ratings.
However, it's only recently that the technology behind video games allowed for a dynamic experience. Dragon Age: Origins is my favorite game right now because the choices I make matter. I can truly play the game as I want. Each character in my party is a dynamic personality that responds to everything I do. I can create a strong friendship so we can fight shoulder-to-shoulder with confidence or I can make an enemy who will try to slay me in my sleep. This is a game that has real (virtual) consequences to all my decisions.
I am compelled to play this game because the characters are interesting enough that I start to think about what I do next. Sure, killing this person may be amusing, but what will Morrigan think? In that case, she probably wouldn't mind, but it's an extra bit of immersion that I love.
Great games are the ones that make me swear at defeat and cheer at victory. I want to win the big battles and beat the main bosses and be the Ultimate Badass of my virtual empire. It's the perfect catharsis to wade into a sea of virtual bad guys (one could imagine them as managers, exes, or former gym teachers) and demolish them all with my ultimate badass weapon of badassery.
I've been saying for years that I want more games that make me care about whatever I'm doing. I want to feel the character's pain and share their triumph. I played a game that makes me wonder if a line has been crossed.
Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 is the sequel to my second-favorite First-Person Shooter (behind Halo) and has been more-than-a-little anticipated for a while now. The story: the uber-nationalist terrorists are bad and need to be destroyed.
MW1 took a bold chance by killing off a seemingly-main character early in the game. He gets caught in a nuclear explosion after stopping to rescue a stranded comrade. He didn't die immediately. You, the player, see the explosion and mushroom cloud just a moment before the pressure wave knocks your helicopter out of the sky. You wake up unable to walk, stranded in the smoldering chopper. You can crawl out to see the devastation, the razed homes and blown-out skyscrapers. All that's left is the swirling, Hellish wind that dares even stone to persist. And you. You keep crawling. Maybe there's a safer place to be. Maybe there's a health pack nearby (that magically survived). Maybe there's a checkpoint to reach. No, all that's left is death. You linger with your character as he gradually succumbs to burns and radiation before the screen goes white and the next level begins.
Nothing like that had ever happened before. Especially in an FPS. MW1 earned rave reviews for turning the players' perspectives and creating a new experience within a still-fantastic game.
MW2 keeps the momentum going, but with an interesting twist. As the game first boots up, the player is greeted with a disclaimer warning against objectionable material. That's pretty standard by now. After agreeing, the player gets another "are you sure?" sort of message. There's lots of ass-covering; I have to see what's gonna happen!
The second(-ish) level is the potentially-objectionable one in which the player--in deep cover--accompanies the uber-nationalist bad guys on their latest terrorist strike: powerful automatic weapons in a crowded airport.
Part of the success of MW1 is that it was, and still is, prescient. I've done some traveling recently and I have friends and family who travel quite often. For the first time in a long time, a video game made me uncomfortable. Even once the level loads, the player may pause and skip the level or simply not participate. There are hundreds of passengers.
I've never bought into most of the anti-video game rhetoric. Killing pixels is just different than killing people. The passengers are pixels and programming with no families, friends, pets, or soul. Inflicting enough mathematical damage so their renders are instructed to slump on the "floor" is a throw-away action for a gamer.
It was only afterward that I realized that's how our enemies see us. Perhaps sans the "mathematics" and "rendering" parts, but as, for all practical purposes, non-beings. It's a startling mindset to find and I know that it's a mindset that could be indoctrinated into the easily-influenced.
That said, I still don't believe video games are bad. Rather, they emphasize the importance of teaching kids right from wrong, real from fake as early as possible to keep fantasy from merging too permanantly with reality. Without that boundary, how does one perceive the "hordes of virtual bullies" that are so easily quashed in the game from just "the bully" tomorrow at school?
There's a reason video games come with ratings.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
I Represent the Lollipop Guild
Every now and then, I'll rail against a movie and be accused of "not getting it." That's often not true. I'm almost always perfectly aware of how a film fits into history--either the one it's creating or the one in which it was created--but that's not enough to keep me interested or affect my ultimate opinion. An important film isn't necessarily a good film. My undying love for the source material does not mean I'll enjoy the movie adaptation. My persistent ambivalence toward some source material does not mean I can't fall in love with movie adaptations. I wish I could come up with a set of criteria for what I like in a movie, but there's always that "X-Factor" that can elevate a ho-hum film to the highest peaks of Stuff I Love, or doom a film to live in the darkest corner of The Land of Forgotten Internet Memes.
I've been watching lots of movies lately. Some have been good. Some have redefined the opposite of good. In either case, there are six movies that earned some strong opinion.
The movie that first inspired this post was Speed Racer. I was never a fan of the cartoon and the Wachowski brothers have gone to some lengths to punish my enjoying the first Matrix. And yet, I wanted to see this movie. Speed Racer had no chance of being a good movie, but I would have been satisfied with fun. Even after lowering the bar, I was disappointed. The characters are about as interesting as their animated originals--not very. Trixie doesn't talk quite so obnoxiously fast anymore, but they still have a chimp as a co-star. I love technology more than the average person, but the distinctive shoot-everything-on-green-screen look actively pushed me out of the story. The big twist (seen from twenty miles away) and presumably the climax of the movie--not that I felt any different from the preceding 90 minutes--is so poorly delivered that I laughed. Sitting in a dark, otherwise-empty room with nobody else to get me into the make-fun-of-it frame of mind, I laughed at this movie's biggest Wow moment. The best part, ironically enough, was the bit right before the credits. The last five minutes or so when Speed stops his whining and just drives the damn car is a lot of legitimate fun, but that's the biggest concentration I could find. Stay away from this one.
One of my very favorite movies--period--is Taken from earlier this year. It's just a hair over 90 minutes, but they're almost perfect. Liam Neeson is amazing. The story is pretty simple: bad people kidnap his daughter while she's visiting Paris. Fortunately, he's very good at finding bad people and getting information from them. Neeson's character is absolutely ruthless. He's brutal on the people who have information, fights dirty when he needs to, and I'm completely fine with that. He's not really fighting for justice , he's not really trying to right a wrong, he's not even trying to punish the people threatening his family, he just wants his daughter back safe and sound. If someone gets in his way though, they might die where they stand. This could have easily been a two-hour movie by tying up all the loose ends, but I'm happy for the more focused story. We see only what Neeson sees and know only what he knows and care only for what he does. I love this movie. It hit DVD and Blu-Ray on May 12th. Go buy it.
There are some iconic movies before my time I feel the occasional obligation to see. That's made easier when those movies have decent reviews to back them up. Blade Runner is one such movie that is ingrained enough in the geek culture that I had to see it. I wanted to be a part of that experience, even decades after the fact. This movie sucks. I managed to fight off napping through it, but only just. The story doesn't make any damn sense: "We have four super-strong human-ish sociopathic Replicants on the loose. Harrison, we want you, and you alone, to find them and kill them." Inexplicably, Harrison agrees. This felt like a season finale more than a movie. The story--using the term loosely--is riddled with sentences that I can only accept as English if I assume they're talking about stuff I'm supposed to know. At the end of it, I didn't care about anyone and I truly wished all the characters would just die. If you're the sort who likes playing with the line between man and machine, watch Ghost in the Shell, I, Robot, or Wall-E--not Blade Runner.
J. J. Abrams' adaptation of Star Trek is flat-out brilliant. The characters are not impressions or caricatures; they're simply younger versions of the originals. The new actors captured the essence of what made McCoy, Kirk, or Spock who they were. The special effects are amazing. It's a paste-you-to-your-seat kind of fast paced without feeling rushed. I laughed. I cried. I paid to see it twice. Go find a showing right now.
X-Men Origins: Wolverine is the only one of this list that I've really heard varying opinions on. It's a definite box-office success (in spite or because of the leak, I'm not sure, but I have a hunch), but I really didn't like it. The effects were pretty lame. The big explosions came straight out of the Cliche Handbook. There are lots of practical effect problems--the wrong sounds, for example--that pushed me out of what little narrative there was. My biggest gripe is really that they strayed so very far from the source--seemingly for the sake of easier movie-making. There might be an alternate history I've not read that inspired this, but I doubt it. Putting characters together who aren't to meet each other for years is annoying. Completely fabricating the origin of another character is annoying. Foisting gimmicky 1980s-esque technology as anything approaching state-of-the-art (for any time) on an unsuspecting audience is annoying. A ten-minute love story being the inspiration for Wolverine going on a revenge-driven murdering spree is annoying. I can't really say this is a bad movie, it's just a quintessential "Summer Movie." It's fun enough, I guess. Go see it if you're bored and get tired of using paychecks as kindling.
I just finished watching A Scanner Darkly. I want to think that I really just don't get this one. It's clearly an homage to a book I've not read, but it's done nothing to convince me it's a book I need to read. I realized about 40 minutes in that I didn't really care about any of the characters. The closest I came to liking someone was Winona Ryder's character, but mostly because she's still pretty cartoon-ized. There's a pretty good twist that I honestly didn't see coming, but then it doesn't really pay off. There's about ten minutes of "woe-is-me, how could we do this to someone so innocent" bullshit that does nothing but make me wonder why not devote that time to telling me what the hell is going on. There's enough here that I really want to like it, but I can't really. Keanu Reeves gives another version of his classic Spaced-Out-But-Apparently-Still-Very-Important character--it's like a breath of fresh air...that's been recycled thousands of times because the future sucks like that. Robert Downey Jr. is really the reason to watch this at all. I didn't care about his character, but I enjoyed watching the mannerisms and hearing the inflections that lent some erg of life to a mostly dull cast.
Monday, April 13, 2009
From the "History-ish" Channel?
For all my talk of skepticism, I really like the idea of aliens visiting Earth, Bigfoot roaming forests, and Chupa-thingy eating cows or whatever. Whenever one of these shows hits TV, I'll pretty much always tune in. Two nights ago was the first time this started to bother me. The thesis of this show was that aliens have visited Earth in the past with fantastic technologies, were worshiped as gods, then left and are remembered only through cryptic, dubious "evidence."
There are enormous figures carved into a plateau in Nazca, Peru (Nazca Lines) that can only be seen from the air...an impossibility until fairly recently. There are Maya carvings that show something that looks kinda like a modern rocket. Construction of the Great Pyramid was, of course, aided by extraterrestrials. Even the great Incan city of Cusco must have had the help of super-advanced visitors, else how could they erect their super precise walls?--it's a perfect fit with no mortar!
Are our egos so fragile that so many must simply reject the notion that ancient people were smart? Just because we were unable to do something until recently (if at all) doesn't mean others couldn't figure it out. I have it on good authority that I'm a pretty smart guy (I test well anyway) but I've known plenty of people who are way better in any number of things than I am. Some people just understand machines. Some people read music like I read a book. Some can even do serious math in their heads just because the numbers make sense. Why is it so difficult to believe that these ancient people were just really good at what they did?
The how of the Nazca Lines seems pretty straightforward--rub something against the ground until a line is made. Such straight lines are apparently impossible to create...and yet, there they are. Mountains were leveled off (I'm willing to believe) without hydraulics. These were people with nothing but time, strong backs, and religious fervor. Such people can quite literally do anything, especially in large numbers. The why really doesn't matter much. Why do I write this blog? I don't really have a compelling reason. I just write. People needn't always have reasons for what they do.
The Maya carving is probably a pretty serious case of a self-fulfilling prophecy. The people who see a shuttle launch in this slab are the same sorts who go into Maya ruins looking specifically for evidence of aliens. When someone like this goes into ruins and finds such evidence, I might be more swayed.
The Great Pyramid is a feat of construction without modern parallel. It's hard to imagine something--anything that massive. There's no doubt in my mind though that it was built by many, many very human hands.
The walls of Cusco are especially impressive to me. I can't even fold a sheet of paper quite in half, but these folks carved rocks with such exactness that I can't fit my paper into the seams. Really impressive. Maybe a bit OCD. Human.
We like to think of ourselves as the top of a ladder. We are the very pinnacle, the culmination of all that came before. Perhaps we're simply the highest branch of a tree. Believing that our ancestors must've been aided by the Greys to have accomplished what we can scarcely imagine diminishes not only their accomplishments, but also how those feats have shaped us. Highest branch or highest rung, it doesn't mean a damn thing without everything that rests below.
As much as I'd like to meet an alien, I'd rather believe in us and our abilities. No creatures have made a bigger impact on this planet than human beings being human. All of our modern accomplishments come from human ingenuity and perseverance. Why can't the same be true for ancient accomplishments?
There are enormous figures carved into a plateau in Nazca, Peru (Nazca Lines) that can only be seen from the air...an impossibility until fairly recently. There are Maya carvings that show something that looks kinda like a modern rocket. Construction of the Great Pyramid was, of course, aided by extraterrestrials. Even the great Incan city of Cusco must have had the help of super-advanced visitors, else how could they erect their super precise walls?--it's a perfect fit with no mortar!
Are our egos so fragile that so many must simply reject the notion that ancient people were smart? Just because we were unable to do something until recently (if at all) doesn't mean others couldn't figure it out. I have it on good authority that I'm a pretty smart guy (I test well anyway) but I've known plenty of people who are way better in any number of things than I am. Some people just understand machines. Some people read music like I read a book. Some can even do serious math in their heads just because the numbers make sense. Why is it so difficult to believe that these ancient people were just really good at what they did?
The how of the Nazca Lines seems pretty straightforward--rub something against the ground until a line is made. Such straight lines are apparently impossible to create...and yet, there they are. Mountains were leveled off (I'm willing to believe) without hydraulics. These were people with nothing but time, strong backs, and religious fervor. Such people can quite literally do anything, especially in large numbers. The why really doesn't matter much. Why do I write this blog? I don't really have a compelling reason. I just write. People needn't always have reasons for what they do.
The Maya carving is probably a pretty serious case of a self-fulfilling prophecy. The people who see a shuttle launch in this slab are the same sorts who go into Maya ruins looking specifically for evidence of aliens. When someone like this goes into ruins and finds such evidence, I might be more swayed.
The Great Pyramid is a feat of construction without modern parallel. It's hard to imagine something--anything that massive. There's no doubt in my mind though that it was built by many, many very human hands.
The walls of Cusco are especially impressive to me. I can't even fold a sheet of paper quite in half, but these folks carved rocks with such exactness that I can't fit my paper into the seams. Really impressive. Maybe a bit OCD. Human.
We like to think of ourselves as the top of a ladder. We are the very pinnacle, the culmination of all that came before. Perhaps we're simply the highest branch of a tree. Believing that our ancestors must've been aided by the Greys to have accomplished what we can scarcely imagine diminishes not only their accomplishments, but also how those feats have shaped us. Highest branch or highest rung, it doesn't mean a damn thing without everything that rests below.
As much as I'd like to meet an alien, I'd rather believe in us and our abilities. No creatures have made a bigger impact on this planet than human beings being human. All of our modern accomplishments come from human ingenuity and perseverance. Why can't the same be true for ancient accomplishments?
Friday, April 3, 2009
When in Doubt, Ask a Question
Science has always held a special place in my heart. I like the process. I like the logic. I like the remaining mysteries. Most of all though, I love the inherent skepticism. Having strongly-felt beliefs is all well and good, but it can be dangerous if that blinds one from the truth.
Through a series of lucky Wikipedia searches and inspired podcast searches, I've been exposed to the so-called "Skeptic Movement." The idea seems, at first glance, something like a straw man argument writ large (we don't hear all that much about the "Mindless Believer Movement"), but at a deeper level it appeals to me in ways that I've always felt religion should have.
With the benefit of hindsight, I'm wondering if my increasing distance from the tenets of any specific religion is due to some instinctive skepticism. Why, out of all the places in the universe, would God trouble himself so with the minutiae of everyone's life that we must live in fear of even the slightest transgressions? How can we pursue a path toward Heaven or Hell without knowing the criteria for good or bad? What's the tipping point for damnation? Not everyone can be right; I really like alcohol, pork, and beef--that already pisses off about half the world's population. Adherence to some dogma or another can provide a fairly consistent rubric for morality (though not in all cases), but that's just about as far as its assertions can be stretched.
I'm bothered by our use of the word "cult" when we come across some small, radical group of people with newsworthy beliefs. I've found three interesting definitions for a cult:
1. a group or sect bound together by devotion to or veneration of the same thing, person, ideal, etc.
2. a group having a sacred ideology and a set of rites centering around their sacred symbols
3. a religion or religious sect generally considered to be extremist or false, with its followers often living in an unconventional manner under the guidance of an authoritarian, charismatic leader
Now tell me, what religion, sect, whatever doesn't fall into at least one of these categories. We say cult and mean it as a pejorative, but where's the line? Is it number of members? Is it just familiarity; we're more comfortable with others holding beliefs closest to our own? Is there a substantive difference between a cult and a religion? I truly don't know, but that I need even ask the question casts doubts all its own.
I think it was Karl Marx who referred to religion as an opiate for the masses. That's probably a little cynical, but not as far off the mark as I want it to be. There's very little that should be taken at face value. Asking questions is never harmful; it only feels that way if someone doesn't like the answers. In troubled times, it's all the more important to evaluate one's beliefs. Why is this important to me? Why is this right? Why is this wrong? We should welcome provocative questions, difficult answers.
Holding any belief comes with the implied burden of defending it as best as possible. Holding strong beliefs should come with the responsibility to try and prove it wrong. It is through that process (one remarkably similar to the SOP for any science experiment) that we hone our beliefs and, almost by elimination, prove them right.
I'm not comfortable with the presumably immutable laws of religion. Wars have been waged with the supposed backing of religious laws. Millions of people have been burned, drowned, tortured, oppressed, gassed, and outright murdered for being on the wrong end of that imaginary religious line. It used to be that I could go to Hell for eating meat on Friday or working through Sunday. What's changed? Everything. We are an ever-changing species, and religions adapt with us. I wonder, just how deep does that fluidity go?
Through a series of lucky Wikipedia searches and inspired podcast searches, I've been exposed to the so-called "Skeptic Movement." The idea seems, at first glance, something like a straw man argument writ large (we don't hear all that much about the "Mindless Believer Movement"), but at a deeper level it appeals to me in ways that I've always felt religion should have.
With the benefit of hindsight, I'm wondering if my increasing distance from the tenets of any specific religion is due to some instinctive skepticism. Why, out of all the places in the universe, would God trouble himself so with the minutiae of everyone's life that we must live in fear of even the slightest transgressions? How can we pursue a path toward Heaven or Hell without knowing the criteria for good or bad? What's the tipping point for damnation? Not everyone can be right; I really like alcohol, pork, and beef--that already pisses off about half the world's population. Adherence to some dogma or another can provide a fairly consistent rubric for morality (though not in all cases), but that's just about as far as its assertions can be stretched.
I'm bothered by our use of the word "cult" when we come across some small, radical group of people with newsworthy beliefs. I've found three interesting definitions for a cult:
1. a group or sect bound together by devotion to or veneration of the same thing, person, ideal, etc.
2. a group having a sacred ideology and a set of rites centering around their sacred symbols
3. a religion or religious sect generally considered to be extremist or false, with its followers often living in an unconventional manner under the guidance of an authoritarian, charismatic leader
Now tell me, what religion, sect, whatever doesn't fall into at least one of these categories. We say cult and mean it as a pejorative, but where's the line? Is it number of members? Is it just familiarity; we're more comfortable with others holding beliefs closest to our own? Is there a substantive difference between a cult and a religion? I truly don't know, but that I need even ask the question casts doubts all its own.
I think it was Karl Marx who referred to religion as an opiate for the masses. That's probably a little cynical, but not as far off the mark as I want it to be. There's very little that should be taken at face value. Asking questions is never harmful; it only feels that way if someone doesn't like the answers. In troubled times, it's all the more important to evaluate one's beliefs. Why is this important to me? Why is this right? Why is this wrong? We should welcome provocative questions, difficult answers.
Holding any belief comes with the implied burden of defending it as best as possible. Holding strong beliefs should come with the responsibility to try and prove it wrong. It is through that process (one remarkably similar to the SOP for any science experiment) that we hone our beliefs and, almost by elimination, prove them right.
I'm not comfortable with the presumably immutable laws of religion. Wars have been waged with the supposed backing of religious laws. Millions of people have been burned, drowned, tortured, oppressed, gassed, and outright murdered for being on the wrong end of that imaginary religious line. It used to be that I could go to Hell for eating meat on Friday or working through Sunday. What's changed? Everything. We are an ever-changing species, and religions adapt with us. I wonder, just how deep does that fluidity go?
Monday, March 23, 2009
I'm Not a Hater; Just a Realist
I'm gonna say it. It's long past time someone did. The Nintendo Wii's effective lifespan is over. Last week, there were a rash of small, quickly ignored articles about how Nintendo is going to remain on the cutting edge (the other authors' emphasis, not mine); there's just one I really want to talk about though. It wonders if the Wii can earn back the "hardcore" (I'll call them just "core," but that's a different rant) gaming crowd. The short answer is "No." Among the people who actually play games, the Wii is a joke. Sacrificing high definition graphics for usability was a bold move, and it's a great business move, but it only really works if there's software to back it up.
All of the games made in-house by Nintendo are amazing. Pretty much everything else is awful. There are so many terrible games out there that the Interwebs created a new term: Shovelware. I know of only two games that could come close to drawing in core gamers, but they came way too late and are still too quirky to change the trend. As a real gaming console, Wii was almost dead on arrival.
What drove Wii's sales was price, family-friendly appearance, and the promise of good games...eventually. The good games came out, and I played them, but I was reminded (again) that I don't really like Mario, Zelda, or Metroid. Poor planning on my part. The Wiimote, cute as it is, is simply not accurate enough for any real precision work on which many of my favorite games thrive. The graphics were adequate, but not as immersive as other systems. There's a lot wrong with the Wii, but that never seemed to matter.
Good ole Reggie et al. did a marvelous job pitching this to all groups, but they found their greatest toehold among casual gamers. My Xbox controller has, depending on how creative you wish to be, 14 buttons that I must keep track of at all times and use appropriately. Wii's initial goal was to emulate that kind of high-end gameplay, but effectively use two buttons. Lofty goals, but developers never really got on board. Nintendo knew what it wanted and knew how to get it, but third-parties still haven't quite gotten the gist of it.
If the only criteria we look at are units sold and money made, Wii is the irrefutable victor of this generation (so far). Yet, all of my friends have had more fun with their Xbox 360 than they ever would on Wii. Hell, one friend sold a Wii, bought a 360, and regrets ever buying Nintendo's baby.
Wii is innovative and fun (in spurts). It's opened the world of gaming to virtually everyone. It is a resounding success in all the ways that matter to Nintendo, but they'll have to come out with something new soon. Production is finally meeting demand. Reduced scarcity will reduce interest, and things get less rosy.
Nintendo still has a lot of Nerd Credits in its inventory, but it's got to find a better balance of innovation and familiarity for its next generation, or the core gamers might just resign themselves to a Mario-less world and keep playing something else in high definition on a console that includes a damn DVD player.
Change is all well and good, but Sony's proven time and again that it won't mean much if it alienates the core fanbase. Casual gamers make up a huge portion of the population and spend lots of money, but it's the core gamers who inspire the innovative spirit of those in the industry; don't sacrifice them for an easy buck.
P.S. To illustrate the concept of Shovelware, Action Girlz Racing exists.
All of the games made in-house by Nintendo are amazing. Pretty much everything else is awful. There are so many terrible games out there that the Interwebs created a new term: Shovelware. I know of only two games that could come close to drawing in core gamers, but they came way too late and are still too quirky to change the trend. As a real gaming console, Wii was almost dead on arrival.
What drove Wii's sales was price, family-friendly appearance, and the promise of good games...eventually. The good games came out, and I played them, but I was reminded (again) that I don't really like Mario, Zelda, or Metroid. Poor planning on my part. The Wiimote, cute as it is, is simply not accurate enough for any real precision work on which many of my favorite games thrive. The graphics were adequate, but not as immersive as other systems. There's a lot wrong with the Wii, but that never seemed to matter.
Good ole Reggie et al. did a marvelous job pitching this to all groups, but they found their greatest toehold among casual gamers. My Xbox controller has, depending on how creative you wish to be, 14 buttons that I must keep track of at all times and use appropriately. Wii's initial goal was to emulate that kind of high-end gameplay, but effectively use two buttons. Lofty goals, but developers never really got on board. Nintendo knew what it wanted and knew how to get it, but third-parties still haven't quite gotten the gist of it.
If the only criteria we look at are units sold and money made, Wii is the irrefutable victor of this generation (so far). Yet, all of my friends have had more fun with their Xbox 360 than they ever would on Wii. Hell, one friend sold a Wii, bought a 360, and regrets ever buying Nintendo's baby.
Wii is innovative and fun (in spurts). It's opened the world of gaming to virtually everyone. It is a resounding success in all the ways that matter to Nintendo, but they'll have to come out with something new soon. Production is finally meeting demand. Reduced scarcity will reduce interest, and things get less rosy.
Nintendo still has a lot of Nerd Credits in its inventory, but it's got to find a better balance of innovation and familiarity for its next generation, or the core gamers might just resign themselves to a Mario-less world and keep playing something else in high definition on a console that includes a damn DVD player.
Change is all well and good, but Sony's proven time and again that it won't mean much if it alienates the core fanbase. Casual gamers make up a huge portion of the population and spend lots of money, but it's the core gamers who inspire the innovative spirit of those in the industry; don't sacrifice them for an easy buck.
P.S. To illustrate the concept of Shovelware, Action Girlz Racing exists.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Can we have a new story yet?
Okay. AIG did a colossally stupid thing with these bonuses. They must have known what the backlash would be. Even a hint of excess right now is pretty much guaranteed to piss a lot of people off. They told the government what was coming and weren't cut off at the knees, which amounts to permission in the business world. Lots and lots of balls have been dropped over the past few months. This is just one more.
Over the past year, AIG has gotten more than $170 billion in federal aid. The bonuses total up to $165 million. The bonuses account for 0.097% of the total federal aid. PERCENT! The federal aid is more than a THOUSAND times greater than the bonuses. This is a literal drop in the bucket.
There are a lot of interesting quotes from senators and congressman. Some ultimatums, some threats, some promises, some hypocrisy. Status quo. This new tax is wrong--more wrong than the bonuses.
The government's job it to withdraw taxes for specific purposes (programs, services, The Beast, etc.). This is a tax of vengeance and drumming up public opinion. I am embarrassed on their behalf.
We have far larger problems right now. The smallest effective denomination to get us out of this mess is hundreds of billions of dollars leading up to trillions of dollars. How much money have we burned on witch hunts, hearings? How will these efforts help us even in the short term? The best we've done is refocus the public on smaller problems--scarcely a good thing in my estimation.
Right now, more than ever, we need to try and see the big picture. This money almost could not matter less in that big picture. President Obama--the supposed pragmatist--needs to move beyond this incident and lead us in the right direction, not get caught up with the pundits.
AIG beat the system. We deal with it this time, learn from our mistakes, and do our damnedest to prevent this nonsense from happening in the future.
I'm normally all about the principle of the matter, but this needs to just go away.
Over the past year, AIG has gotten more than $170 billion in federal aid. The bonuses total up to $165 million. The bonuses account for 0.097% of the total federal aid. PERCENT! The federal aid is more than a THOUSAND times greater than the bonuses. This is a literal drop in the bucket.
There are a lot of interesting quotes from senators and congressman. Some ultimatums, some threats, some promises, some hypocrisy. Status quo. This new tax is wrong--more wrong than the bonuses.
The government's job it to withdraw taxes for specific purposes (programs, services, The Beast, etc.). This is a tax of vengeance and drumming up public opinion. I am embarrassed on their behalf.
We have far larger problems right now. The smallest effective denomination to get us out of this mess is hundreds of billions of dollars leading up to trillions of dollars. How much money have we burned on witch hunts, hearings? How will these efforts help us even in the short term? The best we've done is refocus the public on smaller problems--scarcely a good thing in my estimation.
Right now, more than ever, we need to try and see the big picture. This money almost could not matter less in that big picture. President Obama--the supposed pragmatist--needs to move beyond this incident and lead us in the right direction, not get caught up with the pundits.
AIG beat the system. We deal with it this time, learn from our mistakes, and do our damnedest to prevent this nonsense from happening in the future.
I'm normally all about the principle of the matter, but this needs to just go away.
Monday, March 9, 2009
My Letter to the Editor
I've got a job now. As with most jobs though, there is some down time to be found. I tend to devote much of my time reading through the Opinion section of whatever newspapers I can think of at the time. I came across one letter to the editor in the Washington Post today from someone in Sterling, Virginia that said, essentially, that the rich should consider their impending tax hikes an implicit "thank you" to all the middle-class workers on whose backs such fortunes were made.
Oh my.
This assumes, of course, that all wealthy (and, by implication, successful) people have somehow exploited the working man. Sure, there are some who fall into that category, but I'd wager that most of the truly wealthy are either the beneficiaries of Old Money or sound investments. Does a person really need a yacht, seven cars, or a third home? Arguably not, but that doesn't change the fact that people have all these things. Those people made those buying decisions because they had the funds to do so. Those people have expenses to maintain all those things. Why should any of that money go to bail out people who lose their shirts because they get stuck under a house they should never have had in the first place? Where does that supposed obligation come from?
The purpose of taxes is to pay the government for the services it offers. Such things include, education, Social Security, MediCare, welfare, and dozens of others. Excepting the first in the list, who uses these services? Not the rich. Why should the onus for these services rest solely on the shoulders of those who have escaped needing them?
I admit that I'm pretty insulated from such things. Also, I'm in a really sour mood. Seems to me that this is selfishness and jealousy at work. "We want all the perks, but none of the burden." Maybe that's what will come to replace the American Dream once we complete our changeover to socialism.
Right now we have an incredibly well-educated president who is using his superior speaking skills to convince the public to ignore all the problems with our current course:
* We still have no plan to save the banks (not that I necessarily think we should).
* We've been told that the DalaiBama will wage a war of sorts on pork-filled bills just after he signed more than $700,000,000,000 dollars of pork into law.
* We are at the beginning of a global depression.
* Global tensions are only going to rise as resources become scarce.
* Our president is closing Guantanamo Bay because of violations to the Geneva Convention...terrorists weren't at the Convention and non-citizens don't get Constitutional rights. Closing the camp is a publicity move to help Americans feel more warm and fuzzy inside. Obama's plan for Iraq is the same fucking thing Bush said, but it's okay because Obama's so very cute...and black...not that it matters.
What's the solution?
1. Stop messing with other countries
2. Acknowledge those in the military as the heroes they are; fund them, maintain military strength even in times of peace
3. Improve our education system. Civics isn't even taught in most places. Only successful schools get money. "No Child Left Behind" is a nice sentiment, but only hamstrings those who are actually able to excel. The Standards of Learning make it impossible for learning to be fun because teachers are penalized for deviating from the "necessary" material. Football teams get new jerseys every year, but bands and orchestras are forced to practice in asbestos-laced closets due to a "lack of funds." Why is it that every other industrialized nation can learn at least two languages to fluency and we are proud with mediocrity in English?
4. Practice what we preach. We are so anxious to go into other countries and show them how democracy is done. It's a good year when 35% of the population leaves their homes to vote for the next "Leader of the Free World." la-tee-fucking-da
5. Choose an official language. Wah, we'll be mean to all those illegal aliens. Oh well. If people want to retain their language and culture in their new neighborhood, fine, but English should be necessary to get around. What possible good reason could there be for translating the driving test into so many different languages?
6. Adopt American babies. I know those commercials can be tempting, but there are a lot of lost souls in foster care here. Help them. Other countries have their problems, it sucks, but our first obligation should be to help as much as possible at home and then look elsewhere.
7. We are not the world's police officer. Genocide is a terrible thing, but it's not our problem. We like to claim the moral high ground for such things, but let's not forget where this very land came from. Maybe we feel the need to atone for the sins of previous generations by trying to prevent all bad things happening, but a government cannot be a person. A government's exclusive purpose is to preserve itself and the people under its umbrella. Anyone outside that boundary, however desperate their situation, is simply extra.
8. Elect me as King. Seriously. You wanted change, right?
9. Understand that disagreeing does not mean partisan politics, it means disagreeing. When normal people don't see eye-to-eye, it sends them back to the negotiating table to try and find some middle-ground. When politicians don't see eye-to-eye they dig in their heels and scream "partisanship!" I hate politics. I hate politicians. The root of all evil on the planet is the politician. Disagree? Start proving me wrong.
10. Ban "reality" shows. This madness has to stop. There is no more efficient way of killing braincells than believing any of that is real. I wish I was kidding.
11. Last, but certainly not least, GET OVER YOURSELVES! "We're the best country on the planet," "We have the best form of government," "Capitalism is better than everything else," any of these sound familiar? I'm not gonna be the one to say any of these are wrong, but there is no place for such statements in rational conversation. "Best" is not a real measurement and, thus, can't be used as an accurate point of comparison. There's also a lot of bias because, y'know, we live here. Plenty of other countries get along just fine. Maybe it's ignorance on their part, but it's arrogance on ours. Which is worse?
I still have my hope, but it's a fragile light right now.
Oh my.
This assumes, of course, that all wealthy (and, by implication, successful) people have somehow exploited the working man. Sure, there are some who fall into that category, but I'd wager that most of the truly wealthy are either the beneficiaries of Old Money or sound investments. Does a person really need a yacht, seven cars, or a third home? Arguably not, but that doesn't change the fact that people have all these things. Those people made those buying decisions because they had the funds to do so. Those people have expenses to maintain all those things. Why should any of that money go to bail out people who lose their shirts because they get stuck under a house they should never have had in the first place? Where does that supposed obligation come from?
The purpose of taxes is to pay the government for the services it offers. Such things include, education, Social Security, MediCare, welfare, and dozens of others. Excepting the first in the list, who uses these services? Not the rich. Why should the onus for these services rest solely on the shoulders of those who have escaped needing them?
I admit that I'm pretty insulated from such things. Also, I'm in a really sour mood. Seems to me that this is selfishness and jealousy at work. "We want all the perks, but none of the burden." Maybe that's what will come to replace the American Dream once we complete our changeover to socialism.
Right now we have an incredibly well-educated president who is using his superior speaking skills to convince the public to ignore all the problems with our current course:
* We still have no plan to save the banks (not that I necessarily think we should).
* We've been told that the DalaiBama will wage a war of sorts on pork-filled bills just after he signed more than $700,000,000,000 dollars of pork into law.
* We are at the beginning of a global depression.
* Global tensions are only going to rise as resources become scarce.
* Our president is closing Guantanamo Bay because of violations to the Geneva Convention...terrorists weren't at the Convention and non-citizens don't get Constitutional rights. Closing the camp is a publicity move to help Americans feel more warm and fuzzy inside. Obama's plan for Iraq is the same fucking thing Bush said, but it's okay because Obama's so very cute...and black...not that it matters.
What's the solution?
1. Stop messing with other countries
2. Acknowledge those in the military as the heroes they are; fund them, maintain military strength even in times of peace
3. Improve our education system. Civics isn't even taught in most places. Only successful schools get money. "No Child Left Behind" is a nice sentiment, but only hamstrings those who are actually able to excel. The Standards of Learning make it impossible for learning to be fun because teachers are penalized for deviating from the "necessary" material. Football teams get new jerseys every year, but bands and orchestras are forced to practice in asbestos-laced closets due to a "lack of funds." Why is it that every other industrialized nation can learn at least two languages to fluency and we are proud with mediocrity in English?
4. Practice what we preach. We are so anxious to go into other countries and show them how democracy is done. It's a good year when 35% of the population leaves their homes to vote for the next "Leader of the Free World." la-tee-fucking-da
5. Choose an official language. Wah, we'll be mean to all those illegal aliens. Oh well. If people want to retain their language and culture in their new neighborhood, fine, but English should be necessary to get around. What possible good reason could there be for translating the driving test into so many different languages?
6. Adopt American babies. I know those commercials can be tempting, but there are a lot of lost souls in foster care here. Help them. Other countries have their problems, it sucks, but our first obligation should be to help as much as possible at home and then look elsewhere.
7. We are not the world's police officer. Genocide is a terrible thing, but it's not our problem. We like to claim the moral high ground for such things, but let's not forget where this very land came from. Maybe we feel the need to atone for the sins of previous generations by trying to prevent all bad things happening, but a government cannot be a person. A government's exclusive purpose is to preserve itself and the people under its umbrella. Anyone outside that boundary, however desperate their situation, is simply extra.
8. Elect me as King. Seriously. You wanted change, right?
9. Understand that disagreeing does not mean partisan politics, it means disagreeing. When normal people don't see eye-to-eye, it sends them back to the negotiating table to try and find some middle-ground. When politicians don't see eye-to-eye they dig in their heels and scream "partisanship!" I hate politics. I hate politicians. The root of all evil on the planet is the politician. Disagree? Start proving me wrong.
10. Ban "reality" shows. This madness has to stop. There is no more efficient way of killing braincells than believing any of that is real. I wish I was kidding.
11. Last, but certainly not least, GET OVER YOURSELVES! "We're the best country on the planet," "We have the best form of government," "Capitalism is better than everything else," any of these sound familiar? I'm not gonna be the one to say any of these are wrong, but there is no place for such statements in rational conversation. "Best" is not a real measurement and, thus, can't be used as an accurate point of comparison. There's also a lot of bias because, y'know, we live here. Plenty of other countries get along just fine. Maybe it's ignorance on their part, but it's arrogance on ours. Which is worse?
I still have my hope, but it's a fragile light right now.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Think "Big Picture"
I hated Valentine's Day. I've always hated Valentine's Day. In elementary school, there was so much pressure to choose the "right" kind of Valentine. Were the X-Men still cool enough? Were they cool enough that I wouldn't get laughed at? What if someone else got the same package? That could be embarrassing. I had to give one to everyone too...even the people I didn't like. Sometimes people would give out candy and be liked for it, sometimes they had the misfortune of choosing the wrong sort. These are crippling decisions for a third-grader. Mom would usually end up getting frustrated and choose for me and, of course, none of my concerns were ever confirmed, but I couldn't escape playing the "what if" game. I hated Valentine's Day.
By middle school, Valentine's Day became more exclusive; such cards were only exchanged among friends and couples. I had rather few of the former and none of the latter. It was somewhere in here that Valentine's Day started to become something else: Singles' Awareness Day. I was thrilled to have escaped the pressure of choosing valentines to be distributed to my classmates, but I always sorta wished I got more. I hated Valentine's Day.
High school. Oh, high school. A lot of the people I know think back on their high school years with a those-were-the-days sort of nostalgia. It's a pretty resounding 'meh' in my memory. Some good things, some bad, a lot of lukewarm feelings. I escaped the first two years' Valentine's through a combination of homework and not caring. The "holiday" came and went all but unnoticed. At some point though, I got a girlfriend, and did she turn out to be a doozy! We started dating right around Valentine's Day, which also happened to be right around her birthday, and she'd had a crush on me for some time. I got lots of romantic bonus points for that...not that I had any idea at the time. For a while, I almost cared about the day; I would be able to combine holidays! What guy doesn't want that? Then we broke up. Badly. Whether through maturity or some other mechanism, I'd moved beyond hating Valentine's toward just not caring. I didn't care about Valentine's Day.
College was a fair bit of the same. I spent most of my time working, pretending to work, and playing games (in reverse order). The day came and went nearly without notice. I only knew because my roomie had a girlfriend and he knew better than to forget. Four whole years passed, and I still didn't care about Valentine's Day.
At last, real life...is pretty much more of the same. I get to see my friends more often. I'm still single, unemployed as of this writing, and I'm at my computer at 4am writing about Valentine's Day. I still think Valentine's Day is another manufactured, girl-centric holiday almost wholly designed to make the male halves of relationships worry about gifts or be lured into traps. There's a devious undercurrent to the whole thing that bothers me. Nonetheless, I think I'm starting to understand the hubbub.
I started off thinking about Valentine's Day as an extension of the ongoing school popularity contests to which I never learned the rules. After that, it was a reminder that others had something I could only just understand, much less obtain. Then, it just sort of stopped mattering for a while. It fell from the general consciousness and was taken care of more privately. And now, with some perspective and, I like to think, a bit of maturity, I see this in a different light. Valentine's Day, like most other holidays, is a day to reflect on relationships of any sort. Sure, a lot of the commercial emphasis is on romantic connections, but there's more to it. This is a day to dedicate to your most important connections.
Come what may, we'll always have friends and family. Keep them close.
By middle school, Valentine's Day became more exclusive; such cards were only exchanged among friends and couples. I had rather few of the former and none of the latter. It was somewhere in here that Valentine's Day started to become something else: Singles' Awareness Day. I was thrilled to have escaped the pressure of choosing valentines to be distributed to my classmates, but I always sorta wished I got more. I hated Valentine's Day.
High school. Oh, high school. A lot of the people I know think back on their high school years with a those-were-the-days sort of nostalgia. It's a pretty resounding 'meh' in my memory. Some good things, some bad, a lot of lukewarm feelings. I escaped the first two years' Valentine's through a combination of homework and not caring. The "holiday" came and went all but unnoticed. At some point though, I got a girlfriend, and did she turn out to be a doozy! We started dating right around Valentine's Day, which also happened to be right around her birthday, and she'd had a crush on me for some time. I got lots of romantic bonus points for that...not that I had any idea at the time. For a while, I almost cared about the day; I would be able to combine holidays! What guy doesn't want that? Then we broke up. Badly. Whether through maturity or some other mechanism, I'd moved beyond hating Valentine's toward just not caring. I didn't care about Valentine's Day.
College was a fair bit of the same. I spent most of my time working, pretending to work, and playing games (in reverse order). The day came and went nearly without notice. I only knew because my roomie had a girlfriend and he knew better than to forget. Four whole years passed, and I still didn't care about Valentine's Day.
At last, real life...is pretty much more of the same. I get to see my friends more often. I'm still single, unemployed as of this writing, and I'm at my computer at 4am writing about Valentine's Day. I still think Valentine's Day is another manufactured, girl-centric holiday almost wholly designed to make the male halves of relationships worry about gifts or be lured into traps. There's a devious undercurrent to the whole thing that bothers me. Nonetheless, I think I'm starting to understand the hubbub.
I started off thinking about Valentine's Day as an extension of the ongoing school popularity contests to which I never learned the rules. After that, it was a reminder that others had something I could only just understand, much less obtain. Then, it just sort of stopped mattering for a while. It fell from the general consciousness and was taken care of more privately. And now, with some perspective and, I like to think, a bit of maturity, I see this in a different light. Valentine's Day, like most other holidays, is a day to reflect on relationships of any sort. Sure, a lot of the commercial emphasis is on romantic connections, but there's more to it. This is a day to dedicate to your most important connections.
Come what may, we'll always have friends and family. Keep them close.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Curse Your Sudden But Inevitable Betrayal
I know, two posts in the same day. Does that seem right to you? I want to speak (maybe briefly) on my very favorite television show ever: Firefly. It's a damn crime that this show was canceled so early. In case you don't know (even though you should) Firefly is a sort of sci-fi spaghetti western with a dash of bluegrass music. It's an odd crossroads, but it is a fabulous idea that benefits from terrific writing, a deep story, dynamic characters, and amazing actors. Indeed, it's virtually everything one doesn't find in science fiction television...and everything I love.
Firefly has a rabid fanbase into which, I confess, I was rather late being inducted. The series has the dubious distinction as the only canceled TV show resurrected into a full-fledged Hollywood movie. The fans, Browncoats, they call themselves, accomplished this through an obsessive resolve that could rattle even the most determined Klingon wannabe.
I knew of the show for some time before I actually saw it. By the time my interest was really piqued, the show was gone. Ye olde Internet gave me my first taste and there was no turning back. There is genius at the core of Firefly; it's not necessarily a person. This is one of those exceedingly rare times that I believe the product is truly greater than the sum of its parts. Some of it comes from the passion that all those involved clearly poured into the camera. Some of it comes from the fans. Some of it comes from Fox's odd decision to drop it. Beyond all of that though, is the sense that simply by viewing these episodes, I have been a part of something special, something unique, something gone.
The opening song speaks volumes and, if one wishes it to be, seems almost prophetic:
Take my love, take my land
Take me where I cannot stand
I don't care, I'm still free
You can't take the sky from me
Take me out to the black
Tell them I ain't coming back
Burn the land and boil the sea
You can't take the sky from me
There's no place I can be
Since I found Serenity
But you can't take the sky from me...
I've watched the series from beginning to end no fewer than four times. I've watched my favorite episodes probably an additional three or four times. I've seen the movie, Serenity, three times as of this writing. Without exception, I love it more with each sit-through.
If we recall back to my opinion of Wall-E, I gave an emphatic "Go see it!" at the post's conclusion. It is at least equally imperative that everyone see Firefly and Serenity, probably more so, but the feeling is different somehow. Where Wall-E was fun, Firefly is seminal. It is the standard against which all future television, regardless of genre, should be held to. Where Wall-E is a great movie for the family, Firefly is but the tip of an iceberg composed of Awesome.
Don't watch Firefly because of my endorsement. Don't watch it to bow to geek pressure. Don't even watch it to support those involved. Watch Firefly because you do yourself a disservice through ignorance.
Firefly has a rabid fanbase into which, I confess, I was rather late being inducted. The series has the dubious distinction as the only canceled TV show resurrected into a full-fledged Hollywood movie. The fans, Browncoats, they call themselves, accomplished this through an obsessive resolve that could rattle even the most determined Klingon wannabe.
I knew of the show for some time before I actually saw it. By the time my interest was really piqued, the show was gone. Ye olde Internet gave me my first taste and there was no turning back. There is genius at the core of Firefly; it's not necessarily a person. This is one of those exceedingly rare times that I believe the product is truly greater than the sum of its parts. Some of it comes from the passion that all those involved clearly poured into the camera. Some of it comes from the fans. Some of it comes from Fox's odd decision to drop it. Beyond all of that though, is the sense that simply by viewing these episodes, I have been a part of something special, something unique, something gone.
The opening song speaks volumes and, if one wishes it to be, seems almost prophetic:
Take my love, take my land
Take me where I cannot stand
I don't care, I'm still free
You can't take the sky from me
Take me out to the black
Tell them I ain't coming back
Burn the land and boil the sea
You can't take the sky from me
There's no place I can be
Since I found Serenity
But you can't take the sky from me...
I've watched the series from beginning to end no fewer than four times. I've watched my favorite episodes probably an additional three or four times. I've seen the movie, Serenity, three times as of this writing. Without exception, I love it more with each sit-through.
If we recall back to my opinion of Wall-E, I gave an emphatic "Go see it!" at the post's conclusion. It is at least equally imperative that everyone see Firefly and Serenity, probably more so, but the feeling is different somehow. Where Wall-E was fun, Firefly is seminal. It is the standard against which all future television, regardless of genre, should be held to. Where Wall-E is a great movie for the family, Firefly is but the tip of an iceberg composed of Awesome.
Don't watch Firefly because of my endorsement. Don't watch it to bow to geek pressure. Don't even watch it to support those involved. Watch Firefly because you do yourself a disservice through ignorance.
The Audacity of Hope, Indeed
There's an awful lot of hope flying around today. Here we are, at the very precipice of change, and I see only two ways down: one leads to unbridled success, the other to uncontrollable failure. The chasm of terrible between the possibilities concerns me to no end, and I would very much rather take the first path than the second.
We, the American people, officially have a black president! Segregated water fountains are still in living memory. It's only just outside my lifetime that busing minorities into white schools nearly brought the country to its knees. I, and everyone I know, now regard skin color as little more than a benign twist of fate. We, everyone who voted, have done a momentous thing. It is a thing we must never forget, come what may.
I spent an hour or so crafting and deleting several more paragraphs outlining my concerns for the future before I realized that it doesn't matter--it wasn't the concerns that drove me to write this. I worry about war, torture, terrorism, corruption, recession, socialism, and racial strife--and that's just right now, not even a comprehensive list. Yet, I retain my optimism. Even as I think of all the terrible things that may be ahead, I can't help but feel...something.
Despite all the darkness I see looming on the horizon, I am warmed by the indomitable light of hope, and it truly seems audacious.
We, the American people, officially have a black president! Segregated water fountains are still in living memory. It's only just outside my lifetime that busing minorities into white schools nearly brought the country to its knees. I, and everyone I know, now regard skin color as little more than a benign twist of fate. We, everyone who voted, have done a momentous thing. It is a thing we must never forget, come what may.
I spent an hour or so crafting and deleting several more paragraphs outlining my concerns for the future before I realized that it doesn't matter--it wasn't the concerns that drove me to write this. I worry about war, torture, terrorism, corruption, recession, socialism, and racial strife--and that's just right now, not even a comprehensive list. Yet, I retain my optimism. Even as I think of all the terrible things that may be ahead, I can't help but feel...something.
Despite all the darkness I see looming on the horizon, I am warmed by the indomitable light of hope, and it truly seems audacious.
Monday, January 19, 2009
I'm always watching
We've established that I like video games, macro-level politics, and probably implied the general state of being a geek. Today, let's add "movie-lover" to the list. I really like movies, but my tastes are wildly diverse. I enjoy the sentimental cheesyness of the original Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie as much as the genre-defining awesome that was The Dark Knight. I'll even admit to enjoying the occasional chick-flick. The common thread between all the movies I like is an amalgam of story, character, and fun. The relative presence of these factors can pretty accurately predict how much I like a movie. The holy grail of movie-watching for me is the flick that elicits a real emotional reaction from me.
Some movies make my heart race. Other movies make me laugh. A small few make me cry, but it's only the really special movies that can do all three. Wall-E is one of those. I so love this movie that writing about it is difficult; my thoughts are too jumbled. I'll try and ease the process by focusing on the three things I look for in all movies.
The story is beyond engrossing. It takes place is a far-flung future that, with a careful application of hyperbole, feels horribly prophetic. The planet is so polluted that humanity's only hope of continued survival is to flee to space and leave robots to try and fix the ruin that we molded the planet to become. That seems rather doom-and-gloom, and it is if you think about it enough, but this is more than offset by the other two factors.
Good, believable, dynamic characters are possibly the single most important aspect of any story, especially movies. All the characters (that's right, ALL of them) are fascinating, lovable, and comforting in their humanity...regardless of actual species.
Finally, the fun-factor. Fun isn't really quantifiable. It's like luck or love; everyone knows what it is, but that definition is intensely personal. What's fun for me may be a chore for someone else. That said, I'm willing to make a statement, with no room for equivocation or interpretation, that this movie is fun. Even if only for this reason, everyone should see Wall-E.
Wall-E is the only movie I've seen this year that's made my heart race as if I was sprinting, made me laugh until I was sore, made me cry just enough to have to use my sleeve. Pixar is a master of its craft and they have no rivals. I have never seen a Pixar production that I didn't enjoy, but Wall-E is the new standard.
I sweat from anxiety, laughed 'til I hurt, and burned my eyes with tears in the span of a 90-minute movie. If ever there was a definition of superb, Wall-E is it.
Seriously, go watch the movie.
Some movies make my heart race. Other movies make me laugh. A small few make me cry, but it's only the really special movies that can do all three. Wall-E is one of those. I so love this movie that writing about it is difficult; my thoughts are too jumbled. I'll try and ease the process by focusing on the three things I look for in all movies.
The story is beyond engrossing. It takes place is a far-flung future that, with a careful application of hyperbole, feels horribly prophetic. The planet is so polluted that humanity's only hope of continued survival is to flee to space and leave robots to try and fix the ruin that we molded the planet to become. That seems rather doom-and-gloom, and it is if you think about it enough, but this is more than offset by the other two factors.
Good, believable, dynamic characters are possibly the single most important aspect of any story, especially movies. All the characters (that's right, ALL of them) are fascinating, lovable, and comforting in their humanity...regardless of actual species.
Finally, the fun-factor. Fun isn't really quantifiable. It's like luck or love; everyone knows what it is, but that definition is intensely personal. What's fun for me may be a chore for someone else. That said, I'm willing to make a statement, with no room for equivocation or interpretation, that this movie is fun. Even if only for this reason, everyone should see Wall-E.
Wall-E is the only movie I've seen this year that's made my heart race as if I was sprinting, made me laugh until I was sore, made me cry just enough to have to use my sleeve. Pixar is a master of its craft and they have no rivals. I have never seen a Pixar production that I didn't enjoy, but Wall-E is the new standard.
I sweat from anxiety, laughed 'til I hurt, and burned my eyes with tears in the span of a 90-minute movie. If ever there was a definition of superb, Wall-E is it.
Seriously, go watch the movie.
Monday, January 5, 2009
An Early-Adopter's New Year's Lament
I'm a gamer. I really like gaming. Had I my druthers, that's probably how I'd spend much of my time. Unfortunately, life's just hectic enough that It's hard for me to justify long sessions of killing aliens anymore. For those who don't keep up with such things, 2008 was a hell of a year for video games...well, for the Xbox 360 anyway. There's Dead Space, Grand Theft Auto IV, Fallout 3, Gears of War 2, Mirror's Edge, Prince of Persia, and Fable 2 just off the top of my head. This can account for literally hundreds of hours invested in putting a permanent butt-print in a favorite chair.
Here's the thing: I actually own all these games. If ever there was a sign of waste, this is probably it. Of all these games, I've had little chance to get very far in any of them. They're all critically-acclaimed. Seriously, everyone seems to love these things. Then there's me. I'm not sure I like most of these.
Dead Space threatens to actually scare the poo out of me. I scare pretty easily as it is, and I usually try and avoid games of this sort, but there was such a great ad campaign that I forked over the cash for a pre-order. I made it through the first level with clean undies, but only just. Games should be fun. Excitement can be fun. Fear is scary...and not fun for me. One may ask, "So, Chris, if you scare so easily, why would you get a game specifically designed to scare its players?" I'd reply with a shrug and a sheepish "I dunno." Dead Space is a technically great game that does exactly what one of its genre should, I just don't find a great deal of amusement in it.
Grand Theft Auto IV just isn't my kind of game. In my childhood fantasies, the heroes were always good and the villains were always bad. That's really all there was to it. That's why I was such a huge fan of Superman and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles--they were good. The thrust of GTA has always been that the player is a bad guy waging war on worse guys. An anti-hero, if you will. Being good by comparison was never really an ambition of mine. Video games are an effective extension of my imagination, of my fantasies, and I'm too good to play a bad guy. GTA4 does everything right. It has some great technology to draw the player into the universe. The voice-acting is top-notch. I've been told there's even a great story. It's a game with virtually everything I want, with the nagging detail of making me a quasi-villain. One could ask the same question as above, and that person would get a similar answer.
Fallout 3 is just not a pretty environment (what, with all the nuclear...umm...fallout). This was my first foray into the Fallout universe, so I didn't have the same nostalgic expectations as many others just as I didn't really know what I was getting into. There was a lot of hype, and the developers were the same people behind one of my very favorite games, so what could go wrong? In a word, the game is ugly. Sure, everything is rendered well and character animations are some of the best I've seen, but it's all so ugly. Most games pride themselves on having rich, vibrant worlds full of life and discovery. Fallout 3 is a barren, nuclear wasteland in which the big discoveries are burned out homes and multi-headed super mutants. Yay? The gameplay is great, the characters are fun, and the story is engrossing, but running around in the world is so damned depressing.
Gears of War 2 earns more praise than most of this list, but I still have some problems. Gears 2 boasts some of the best writing I've ever experienced in games and the most poignant cutscene ever made. Unfortunately, only some of the writing was really that good. Some of it sounds very much like my creative writing...which is still firmly entrenched in the seventh grade. Aside from the one beacon of awesome, the cutscenes are fairly mundane--fun and gory, to be sure, but mundane. The gameplay is solid and very nearly usurps Halo's title as best-controlling-first-person-shooter. The story, for what it is, is good. Dom's search for his wife, Maria, is heart wrenching with an amazing payoff. It is that detail alone that saves my opinion of this script. There's a lot of fun to be had (not even counting multiplayer) and I'm happy with my purchase, but I'm expecting more from Gears 3.
Mirror's Edge. Oh, my goodness, Mirror's Edge. The previews for this game literally made my heart race a bit. A game about free-running (parkour, for you nitpickers)! There is a sense of speed in this game unmatched by anything else I've seen. The complete lack of heads-up-display is as refreshing as the gameplay. In the first few seconds, I sensed that this would be a paradigm-shifting experience, something that would finally push the platforming genre into more respectable territory. I was about half-right. Of nine missions, the first four-and-a-half are exactly what I wanted: frantic problem-solving while jumping from rooftop to rooftop while being hunted by an implacable enemy. The emphasis was on evasion. Starting part way through the fourth stage, the emphasis shifted to combat. Faith, the main character, kinda sucks at combat; she's much better designed for the earlier evasion tactics. This shift made what started off as a contender for the "Chris' Most Favoritest Gaem Evar!!1!one" title into a game threatening to edge out Devil May Cry and Ninja Gaiden for "Most Controller-Breakingly Frustrating Game Ever Created by Satan." This so could have been something great, but it now rests on my shelf, likely never to be completed.
Prince of Persia is good. I love the new art style. It's a good re-imagining of the franchise and an intriguing springboard into the inevitable sequels. It's the combat system that holds this game back. For all its fluidity and gradual learning curve, it's a little lame fighting just the one enemy at a time secure in the knowledge that it is impossible to die. Literally. Impossible. There's an achievement to be earned for not dying much, but that's not a big motivator for me. It's fun, but feels too idiot-proof for me to really get excited over. I'm not sure that's a bad things per se, it's impossible to please everyone, but it took me too far out of the game world to care as much as I need to to remain focused.
Fable 2 is probably the biggest disappointment. It's one of the few games that seemed it would actually live up to its own hype machine. Fable 2 occurs in a world which is noticeably and permanently affected by the player's actions. That's a huge step for gaming. Many games nowadays have multiple endings, but they're finite, specific conclusions. Fable 2 has nearly limitless possibilities with thousands of nuances that will make every player's experience unique to that one's decisions and style. I was very, very happy when I got my copy at last. I jumped right in and powered through the first few quests, bought property, flirted, farted, got married, and purchased my first home. I was having a blast. Then I got a quest that I couldn't figure out how to complete. I needed to bring someone to a place, but the person wouldn't follow me. I went to the quest-giver for a hint, but he wouldn't talk to me. I turned to the Internet for a hint and found that I was one of the relatively few who got stuck in a game-ruining bug. Because of the way the save files work, it was impossible to retrieve my character. The ten hours or so I spent building this persona are lost forever and I have nothing but frustration to show for it. Okay, I can do this, I can start over. I made a new character...and got stuck in another game-ruining bug! I've done some reading and I know where all the really bad bugs found so far are, but I can't play anymore. I can't stand the thought of playing a game with the ever-present threat of ruining my experience.
So, what's the moral of the story? I have no idea. I was looking at my game shelf thinking of what I wanted to play and saw all my brand-new games...then pulled out an old one. There are a lot of people in the industry working themselves into a lather over how many huge games dropped this year. There were a lot of big games, but I don't really like many of them. I think I'm officially off the early-adopter bandwagon. After hundreds of dollars spent on new games, I spend most of my time playing my 2-4 year old titles.
The realization that hundreds of dollars of potential awesome sits inert on my shelf is depressing and frustrating. I don't really have a pithy ending to this one. This is really just to vent a bit. More snarkiness to come, I'm sure.
Here's the thing: I actually own all these games. If ever there was a sign of waste, this is probably it. Of all these games, I've had little chance to get very far in any of them. They're all critically-acclaimed. Seriously, everyone seems to love these things. Then there's me. I'm not sure I like most of these.
Dead Space threatens to actually scare the poo out of me. I scare pretty easily as it is, and I usually try and avoid games of this sort, but there was such a great ad campaign that I forked over the cash for a pre-order. I made it through the first level with clean undies, but only just. Games should be fun. Excitement can be fun. Fear is scary...and not fun for me. One may ask, "So, Chris, if you scare so easily, why would you get a game specifically designed to scare its players?" I'd reply with a shrug and a sheepish "I dunno." Dead Space is a technically great game that does exactly what one of its genre should, I just don't find a great deal of amusement in it.
Grand Theft Auto IV just isn't my kind of game. In my childhood fantasies, the heroes were always good and the villains were always bad. That's really all there was to it. That's why I was such a huge fan of Superman and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles--they were good. The thrust of GTA has always been that the player is a bad guy waging war on worse guys. An anti-hero, if you will. Being good by comparison was never really an ambition of mine. Video games are an effective extension of my imagination, of my fantasies, and I'm too good to play a bad guy. GTA4 does everything right. It has some great technology to draw the player into the universe. The voice-acting is top-notch. I've been told there's even a great story. It's a game with virtually everything I want, with the nagging detail of making me a quasi-villain. One could ask the same question as above, and that person would get a similar answer.
Fallout 3 is just not a pretty environment (what, with all the nuclear...umm...fallout). This was my first foray into the Fallout universe, so I didn't have the same nostalgic expectations as many others just as I didn't really know what I was getting into. There was a lot of hype, and the developers were the same people behind one of my very favorite games, so what could go wrong? In a word, the game is ugly. Sure, everything is rendered well and character animations are some of the best I've seen, but it's all so ugly. Most games pride themselves on having rich, vibrant worlds full of life and discovery. Fallout 3 is a barren, nuclear wasteland in which the big discoveries are burned out homes and multi-headed super mutants. Yay? The gameplay is great, the characters are fun, and the story is engrossing, but running around in the world is so damned depressing.
Gears of War 2 earns more praise than most of this list, but I still have some problems. Gears 2 boasts some of the best writing I've ever experienced in games and the most poignant cutscene ever made. Unfortunately, only some of the writing was really that good. Some of it sounds very much like my creative writing...which is still firmly entrenched in the seventh grade. Aside from the one beacon of awesome, the cutscenes are fairly mundane--fun and gory, to be sure, but mundane. The gameplay is solid and very nearly usurps Halo's title as best-controlling-first-person-shooter. The story, for what it is, is good. Dom's search for his wife, Maria, is heart wrenching with an amazing payoff. It is that detail alone that saves my opinion of this script. There's a lot of fun to be had (not even counting multiplayer) and I'm happy with my purchase, but I'm expecting more from Gears 3.
Mirror's Edge. Oh, my goodness, Mirror's Edge. The previews for this game literally made my heart race a bit. A game about free-running (parkour, for you nitpickers)! There is a sense of speed in this game unmatched by anything else I've seen. The complete lack of heads-up-display is as refreshing as the gameplay. In the first few seconds, I sensed that this would be a paradigm-shifting experience, something that would finally push the platforming genre into more respectable territory. I was about half-right. Of nine missions, the first four-and-a-half are exactly what I wanted: frantic problem-solving while jumping from rooftop to rooftop while being hunted by an implacable enemy. The emphasis was on evasion. Starting part way through the fourth stage, the emphasis shifted to combat. Faith, the main character, kinda sucks at combat; she's much better designed for the earlier evasion tactics. This shift made what started off as a contender for the "Chris' Most Favoritest Gaem Evar!!1!one" title into a game threatening to edge out Devil May Cry and Ninja Gaiden for "Most Controller-Breakingly Frustrating Game Ever Created by Satan." This so could have been something great, but it now rests on my shelf, likely never to be completed.
Prince of Persia is good. I love the new art style. It's a good re-imagining of the franchise and an intriguing springboard into the inevitable sequels. It's the combat system that holds this game back. For all its fluidity and gradual learning curve, it's a little lame fighting just the one enemy at a time secure in the knowledge that it is impossible to die. Literally. Impossible. There's an achievement to be earned for not dying much, but that's not a big motivator for me. It's fun, but feels too idiot-proof for me to really get excited over. I'm not sure that's a bad things per se, it's impossible to please everyone, but it took me too far out of the game world to care as much as I need to to remain focused.
Fable 2 is probably the biggest disappointment. It's one of the few games that seemed it would actually live up to its own hype machine. Fable 2 occurs in a world which is noticeably and permanently affected by the player's actions. That's a huge step for gaming. Many games nowadays have multiple endings, but they're finite, specific conclusions. Fable 2 has nearly limitless possibilities with thousands of nuances that will make every player's experience unique to that one's decisions and style. I was very, very happy when I got my copy at last. I jumped right in and powered through the first few quests, bought property, flirted, farted, got married, and purchased my first home. I was having a blast. Then I got a quest that I couldn't figure out how to complete. I needed to bring someone to a place, but the person wouldn't follow me. I went to the quest-giver for a hint, but he wouldn't talk to me. I turned to the Internet for a hint and found that I was one of the relatively few who got stuck in a game-ruining bug. Because of the way the save files work, it was impossible to retrieve my character. The ten hours or so I spent building this persona are lost forever and I have nothing but frustration to show for it. Okay, I can do this, I can start over. I made a new character...and got stuck in another game-ruining bug! I've done some reading and I know where all the really bad bugs found so far are, but I can't play anymore. I can't stand the thought of playing a game with the ever-present threat of ruining my experience.
So, what's the moral of the story? I have no idea. I was looking at my game shelf thinking of what I wanted to play and saw all my brand-new games...then pulled out an old one. There are a lot of people in the industry working themselves into a lather over how many huge games dropped this year. There were a lot of big games, but I don't really like many of them. I think I'm officially off the early-adopter bandwagon. After hundreds of dollars spent on new games, I spend most of my time playing my 2-4 year old titles.
The realization that hundreds of dollars of potential awesome sits inert on my shelf is depressing and frustrating. I don't really have a pithy ending to this one. This is really just to vent a bit. More snarkiness to come, I'm sure.
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