Sequelitis

Sequelitis — Blue Ink Alchemy

"No. I'm not taking another step until Justice lets Anders out to play." There are some marketing decisions I'll never understand. Fast food chains showing a split-second of something from a moderately-trending YouTube clip. Ads and reviewers pretending that adding a third visual dimension to one-dimensional stories or characters is worth the investment. Concealing lack of content with blatant sex appeal or gratuitous trendiness. New Coke. And the notion that a sequel must - must - be indicated with a number. I think this is more an issue with video games than other media. The second Dream Park novel wasn't called Dream Park 2, it's The Barsoom Project. Batman Begins was followed by The Dark Knight. Yet on PCs and consoles, long is the list of new games followed by lackluster sequels indicated only by larger numbers on the end. Some of them fail for simply not being good games. But others, I think, take more flak than they should simply because somebody in marketing decided that "2" was a better descriptor of the game's content than any sort of subtitle. You know where I'm going with this, right? Of course you do. In the grand tradition of my Dragon Age: Origins experience, I'm ruminating upon a fantasy RPG with depth and complexity before stumbling into an actual review. Unlike Origins, however, which was lauded nearly universally, Dragon Age 2 is approaching levels of hate I didn't think possible for a BioWare game. If this were Pixar, this latest game would be the studio's Cars. I'm not blinded by fanboy wank, though. I can see the flaws. Copy-pasted caverns. An overwhelming number of sidequests with even more generic, interchangeable foes between them. Cumbersome menus likely meant to be easily navigated with thumb sticks. A first act plot motivated more by destitute desperation and blatant greed than anything altruistic, let alone heroic. Anders... Andraste's knicker-weasels, poor Anders. There's more, I'm sure, and I'll cover them all in my review. But how bad are they, really? So far, in my opinion, none of them break the game. It holds up due to interesting characters with vibrant relationships in the setting of a very personal, gradually-building story. I'm not sure what it's building to, at this point, but I'm interested in finding out, and I personally like the fact that it's not necessarily building up to the go-to video game goal of "Kill The Final Boss To Win At Life". The things Hawke does, even if some of them are just to get him and his mom out of a shithole apartment, feel like they matter outside of XP or monetary gain. Different, in this case, is not necessarily bad. Again, this might change when I cross that finish line. I think that a lot of the bile being spewed by gamers, like so many Boomers dousing survivors in Left 4 Dead because they're making loud noises, is due to the title. Dragon Age 2, to most, indicates a continuation of Dragon Age: Origins in terms of story scope (epic, large-scale, overarching quest goal), player projection - an unvoiced character is easier for the player to use as a self-insertion fantasy persona - and nostalgia factor. I mean, come on, if Origins were trying any harder to be a Baldur's Gate game it'd be called "Baldur's Gate: Ferelden Edition" or maybe "Baldur's Gate III" if EA had anything to say about it. Instead, there's this guy or girl named Hawke instead of a character the player builds from the ground up. There's only one city, and it doesn't matter how well-realized or lively that city itself is if players are expecting multiple unique locations to serve as quest hubs. The relationships and characters remain, but between the voiced player character and things like Anders, there's plenty to tell the player this is not what they were expecting. And when unexpected change happens in the world of gamers? Gamers get mad. Fantasy gamers especially, it seems. Walk into a gaming store and talk about how the 4th edition of Dungeons & Dragons isn't that bad. Just be prepared for massive backlash. Again, I'm not saying some of the negativity isn't justified. Expect more expansion upon the drawbacks of Dragon Age: The City of Chains (see? Doesn't that sound cooler than some dumb old number?) in a future post. But, for the record, I don't care much about the change in scope, perspective or anything like that. I'm all for games trying to do something different than their predecessors. My concern is regarding the story, the gameplay in and of itself, the overall experience and the little things that make the game stand out. It remains to be seen if Dragon Age: The Champion's Legacy can overcome this odd strain of sequelitis that has people treating it like a leper. It's possible I can scrape that number off and find a half-decent game waiting for me in the end equation, or perhaps the marketing boys pushed it out the door to cover up how crappy some of the dev team's decisions turned out to be. Either way, if it weren't called Dragon Age 2, it might not be taking such a severe beating. At least the Essentials line of Dungeons & Dragons can sit next to Hawke and hand him an icepack.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Book Review: Dream Park

Book Review: Dream Park — Blue Ink Alchemy

Writers need to read almost as much as they need to write. It's how we discover things we want to do, avoid, improve upon and revisit. It also pays to re-read things we've previously read, as life experiences and evolving styles might give us new appreciation for something half-remembered or cast an old favorite in a new light. This, then, is why I grabbed a Kindle copy of Larry Niven and Steven Barnes' Dream Park. Summed up in one sentence: it's a murder mystery that takes place during a LARP which uses a holodeck. I'm not even joking. Dream Park is the name of perhaps the largest entertainment compound in 2051, a place where holograms blend with real set pieces and highly complex computer mainframes to create full-immersion interactive experiences. The premiere events are the Games, where people assume the roles of heroes catapulted into dangerous, other-worldly situations at the whim of Game Masters who manipulate the complex mechanics of Dream Park the way a D&D Dungeon Master manipulates tiles, miniatures and statistics. The biggest and most ambitious Game yet, the South Seas Treasure Game, is about to begin. Games yield tons of potential revenue beyond the registration of the players due to film, book and other entertainment rights; they're also the perfect place for a murder to flee. There's been a death among the Dream Park staff, and the head of security, Alex Griffin, isn't going to stop at anything to track him or her down... even if it means joining the South Seas Treasure Game itself. Long before LARPs, computer gaming or even reality entertainment were established as means of escapism, Niven and Barnes gave us an idea of what those sorts of diversions might be like. On top of this foundation is laid the notion of the Game, based in some very quirky mythology with plenty of basis in fact which gives the fantasy within the fantasy added weight. But this wasn't good enough for the storytellers. A further injection of mystery, a case of double identity and the nature of escapism itself is introduced. Less authors might have found these disparate ideas tripping over one another to be the hallmark of the work, but the elements are blended so carefully that the narrative becomes much like the fictional Park: it's hard to tell where one part of the narrative ends and another begins. We're right in the middle of things from start to finish. Part thriller, part sci-fi romp and part historical fantasy action/adventure seems like an ambitious combination, but what makes Dream Park work isn't the layers of genre setting, it's the characters. With depth, dialog and realistic emotion, Niven and Barnes give us a diverse and thoroughly three-dimensional cast. Some that seem stereotypical will surprise in their hidden aspects. It's these beats, just as much as the monsters and mythology, that keep the reader turning pages. From the novice in awe of the Park's complexity to Griffin's struggle not to become lost in the Game's immersion, the characters bridge the gap between the more fantastical aspects of the story and our capacity to care about the people involved. It's a well-paced, well-meaning yarn that's completely satisfying. It's not a perfect book, as some of the characters feel rather stock and the depth of some of the central cast make the "redshirts" seem a bit obvious. Still, in terms of works not afraid to blur the lines between genres, you could definitely do worse.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Requiem for the Masquerade

Requiem for the Masquerade — Blue Ink Alchemy

    Has it really been 20 years? Obviously it has, since the 20th Anniversary Edition of Vampire: the Masquerade is coming. I'm definitely interested, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which the time I spent playing that game both on the table and in live action. This pending milestone, plus my current re-read of Niven & Barnes' Dream Park, has me thinking back on those times I donned a suit for a purpose other than a job interview. Masquerade was a fun and engrossing game world, but it wasn't without its flaws. A diverse set of clans for power specialization and fluff flavors coupled with an intriguing take on old vampire legends made it appealing right out of the box. The premise of it being based on 'personal horror' was fascinating as well, to me: what does this change, these powers, mean on a personal level? How hard will you fight against these new instincts, this new society, to hold on to the person you were? How far will you go to make a place for yourself among the other creatures of the night? These questions, to me, were far more important to me than any number of filled-in circles on a character sheet, especially in retrospect. There's a part of me that wonders if I left a good amount of this really juicy storytelling material unexplored. When I first became acquainted with the game I was still developmental in both my abilities for telling tales and my maturity in handling character beats. To put it another way, I was all about the circles. As time went on I did delve into some of the deeper issues but more often than not, real life found a way to upset the pace I was setting for myself in an ongoing Masquerade game. Then came Requiem. I haven't played it anywhere near as much as Masquerade, although I did get a great taste of it when I met Will Hindmarch. The questions are still there, but the answers felt odd, in a way. There felt like there was a clean disconnect between who a character was after becoming a vampire, and who they were before. Maybe it's just me, but the pitch and timbre of the 'music' of Requiem felt a bit more avant-garde than that of Masquerade. Don't get me wrong, there's some great stuff in Requiem. I adore the fact that they did away with cookie-cutter villains, letting player factions and politics become the crux of the drama in gameplay. The change to clans felt a bit odd to me; while I acknowledge it adds potential diversity through bloodlines, it also seemed like an overcomplication of an aspect of the game that didn't need fixing, in my humble opinion. The obliteration of the Cainite history, and most history for that matter, felt like the least-welcome change. Traditions, tales and lore added depth and a sense of weight to the condition of the players: You are a product of all that has come before you, and it's up to you if you follow in those bloody footsteps or strike out on your own. In Requiem, any ties to your past or your lineage is tangential at best. There's less pressure on the player... fewer questions asked. I've long felt that the perfect vampire game (at least in the World of Darkness) lies somewhere between these two settings. The Cainite history, august lineages of the clans with their centuries of infighting, betrayal, absorption and breakaways and deeper personal questions from Masquerade coupled with the faction politics and cagey-yet-social nature of the Beast from Requiem seems like the best of both worlds. Then again, that could just be me. Either way, the characters continue to be the focus of any decent story, and when it comes to the World of Darkness, they've been fascinating for 20 years and hopefully will continue to be so for many more years to come. Header image courtesy Highmoon's Ponderings

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Requiem for the Masquerade

Requiem for the Masquerade — Blue Ink Alchemy

Has it really been 20 years? Obviously it has, since the 20th Anniversary Edition of Vampire: the Masquerade is coming. I'm definitely interested, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which the time I spent playing that game both on the table and in live action. This pending milestone, plus my current re-read of Niven & Barnes' Dream Park, has me thinking back on those times I donned a suit for a purpose other than a job interview. Masquerade was a fun and engrossing game world, but it wasn't without its flaws. A diverse set of clans for power specialization and fluff flavors coupled with an intriguing take on old vampire legends made it appealing right out of the box. The premise of it being based on 'personal horror' was fascinating as well, to me: what does this change, these powers, mean on a personal level? How hard will you fight against these new instincts, this new society, to hold on to the person you were? How far will you go to make a place for yourself among the other creatures of the night? These questions, to me, were far more important to me than any number of filled-in circles on a character sheet, especially in retrospect. There's a part of me that wonders if I left a good amount of this really juicy storytelling material unexplored. When I first became acquainted with the game I was still developmental in both my abilities for telling tales and my maturity in handling character beats. To put it another way, I was all about the circles. As time went on I did delve into some of the deeper issues but more often than not, real life found a way to upset the pace I was setting for myself in an ongoing Masquerade game. Then came Requiem. I haven't played it anywhere near as much as Masquerade, although I did get a great taste of it when I met Will Hindmarch. The questions are still there, but the answers felt odd, in a way. There felt like there was a clean disconnect between who a character was after becoming a vampire, and who they were before. Maybe it's just me, but the pitch and timbre of the 'music' of Requiem felt a bit more avant-garde than that of Masquerade. Don't get me wrong, there's some great stuff in Requiem. I adore the fact that they did away with cookie-cutter villains, letting player factions and politics become the crux of the drama in gameplay. The change to clans felt a bit odd to me; while I acknowledge it adds potential diversity through bloodlines, it also seemed like an overcomplication of an aspect of the game that didn't need fixing, in my humble opinion. The obliteration of the Cainite history, and most history for that matter, felt like the least-welcome change. Traditions, tales and lore added depth and a sense of weight to the condition of the players: You are a product of all that has come before you, and it's up to you if you follow in those bloody footsteps or strike out on your own. In Requiem, any ties to your past or your lineage is tangential at best. There's less pressure on the player... fewer questions asked. I've long felt that the perfect vampire game (at least in the World of Darkness) lies somewhere between these two settings. The Cainite history, august lineages of the clans with their centuries of infighting, betrayal, absorption and breakaways and deeper personal questions from Masquerade coupled with the faction politics and cagey-yet-social nature of the Beast from Requiem seems like the best of both worlds. Then again, that could just be me. Either way, the characters continue to be the focus of any decent story, and when it comes to the World of Darkness, they've been fascinating for 20 years and hopefully will continue to be so for many more years to come. Header image courtesy Highmoon's Ponderings

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Requiem for the Masquerade

Requiem for the Masquerade — Blue Ink Alchemy

Has it really been 20 years? Obviously it has, since the 20th Anniversary Edition of Vampire: the Masquerade is coming. I'm definitely interested, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which the time I spent playing that game both on the table and in live action. This pending milestone, plus my current re-read of Niven & Barnes' Dream Park, has me thinking back on those times I donned a suit for a purpose other than a job interview. Masquerade was a fun and engrossing game world, but it wasn't without its flaws. A diverse set of clans for power specialization and fluff flavors coupled with an intriguing take on old vampire legends made it appealing right out of the box. The premise of it being based on 'personal horror' was fascinating as well, to me: what does this change, these powers, mean on a personal level? How hard will you fight against these new instincts, this new society, to hold on to the person you were? How far will you go to make a place for yourself among the other creatures of the night? These questions, to me, were far more important to me than any number of filled-in circles on a character sheet, especially in retrospect. There's a part of me that wonders if I left a good amount of this really juicy storytelling material unexplored. When I first became acquainted with the game I was still developmental in both my abilities for telling tales and my maturity in handling character beats. To put it another way, I was all about the circles. As time went on I did delve into some of the deeper issues but more often than not, real life found a way to upset the pace I was setting for myself in an ongoing Masquerade game. Then came Requiem. I haven't played it anywhere near as much as Masquerade, although I did get a great taste of it when I met Will Hindmarch. The questions are still there, but the answers felt odd, in a way. There felt like there was a clean disconnect between who a character was after becoming a vampire, and who they were before. Maybe it's just me, but the pitch and timbre of the 'music' of Requiem felt a bit more avant-garde than that of Masquerade. Don't get me wrong, there's some great stuff in Requiem. I adore the fact that they did away with cookie-cutter villains, letting player factions and politics become the crux of the drama in gameplay. The change to clans felt a bit odd to me; while I acknowledge it adds potential diversity through bloodlines, it also seemed like an overcomplication of an aspect of the game that didn't need fixing, in my humble opinion. The obliteration of the Cainite history, and most history for that matter, felt like the least-welcome change. Traditions, tales and lore added depth and a sense of weight to the condition of the players: You are a product of all that has come before you, and it's up to you if you follow in those bloody footsteps or strike out on your own. In Requiem, any ties to your past or your lineage is tangential at best. There's less pressure on the player... fewer questions asked. I've long felt that the perfect vampire game (at least in the World of Darkness) lies somewhere between these two settings. The Cainite history, august lineages of the clans with their centuries of infighting, betrayal, absorption and breakaways and deeper personal questions from Masquerade coupled with the faction politics and cagey-yet-social nature of the Beast from Requiem seems like the best of both worlds. Then again, that could just be me. Either way, the characters continue to be the focus of any decent story, and when it comes to the World of Darkness, they've been fascinating for 20 years and hopefully will continue to be so for many more years to come. Header image courtesy Highmoon's Ponderings

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Requiem for the Masquerade

Requiem for the Masquerade — Blue Ink Alchemy

Has it really been 20 years? Obviously it has, since the 20th Anniversary Edition of Vampire: the Masquerade is coming. I'm definitely interested, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which the time I spent playing that game both on the table and in live action. This pending milestone, plus my current re-read of Niven & Barnes' Dream Park, has me thinking back on those times I donned a suit for a purpose other than a job interview. Masquerade was a fun and engrossing game world, but it wasn't without its flaws. A diverse set of clans for power specialization and fluff flavors coupled with an intriguing take on old vampire legends made it appealing right out of the box. The premise of it being based on 'personal horror' was fascinating as well, to me: what does this change, these powers, mean on a personal level? How hard will you fight against these new instincts, this new society, to hold on to the person you were? How far will you go to make a place for yourself among the other creatures of the night? These questions, to me, were far more important to me than any number of filled-in circles on a character sheet, especially in retrospect. There's a part of me that wonders if I left a good amount of this really juicy storytelling material unexplored. When I first became acquainted with the game I was still developmental in both my abilities for telling tales and my maturity in handling character beats. To put it another way, I was all about the circles. As time went on I did delve into some of the deeper issues but more often than not, real life found a way to upset the pace I was setting for myself in an ongoing Masquerade game. Then came Requiem. I haven't played it anywhere near as much as Masquerade, although I did get a great taste of it when I met Will Hindmarch. The questions are still there, but the answers felt odd, in a way. There felt like there was a clean disconnect between who a character was after becoming a vampire, and who they were before. Maybe it's just me, but the pitch and timbre of the 'music' of Requiem felt a bit more avant-garde than that of Masquerade. Don't get me wrong, there's some great stuff in Requiem. I adore the fact that they did away with cookie-cutter villains, letting player factions and politics become the crux of the drama in gameplay. The change to clans felt a bit odd to me; while I acknowledge it adds potential diversity through bloodlines, it also seemed like an overcomplication of an aspect of the game that didn't need fixing, in my humble opinion. The obliteration of the Cainite history, and most history for that matter, felt like the least-welcome change. Traditions, tales and lore added depth and a sense of weight to the condition of the players: You are a product of all that has come before you, and it's up to you if you follow in those bloody footsteps or strike out on your own. In Requiem, any ties to your past or your lineage is tangential at best. There's less pressure on the player... fewer questions asked. I've long felt that the perfect vampire game (at least in the World of Darkness) lies somewhere between these two settings. The Cainite history, august lineages of the clans with their centuries of infighting, betrayal, absorption and breakaways and deeper personal questions from Masquerade coupled with the faction politics and cagey-yet-social nature of the Beast from Requiem seems like the best of both worlds. Then again, that could just be me. Either way, the characters continue to be the focus of any decent story, and when it comes to the World of Darkness, they've been fascinating for 20 years and hopefully will continue to be so for many more years to come. Header image courtesy Highmoon's Ponderings

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Blue Ink Alchemy

First Impressions: Dragon Age II

First Impressions: Dragon Age II — Blue Ink Alchemy

Finally. After pushing myself to complete a replay of my original character in Dragon Age: Origins and the Awakening expansion, I fired up the sequel at long last. I know I have a long way to go before I can do a legitimate review and I'm continuing to do my utmost to avoid exposing myself to reviews both positive and negative. So, after a couple hours in the Free Marches and some hardware tweaking assisted by my lovely wife who convinced me to be unafraid of beta GPU patches, here are my first impressions of Dragon Age II.
Yes, I made my Hawke look like me. I did the same in Origins, and they're related. They're both mages from the same family.
...Don't you judge me. Characters continue to be BioWare's strong suit. While I haven't recruited every available party member yet, those I have encountered show a great range of personalities, motivations and quirkiness. I can't say I dislike any of them, but I like them all for different reasons. Hawke him/herself also shows a good range of character depending on how we register his/her responses using a dialog wheel instead of the numbered choices of Origins. I'm sure it's one of those divisive decisions that split the fan-base, but having Hawke speaking in his/her own voice gives the conversations more of a natural flow, and actually helps with the immersion into the story, which I'll get to in a moment. Staying with characters, however, the leveling system feels a lot less cumbersome than the previous game. It's easier to make decisions as to how to tweak individual characters, and it seems that the reduced amount of choices will keep players from being overwhelmed and characters from outstripping their opponents. The lack of things like Mana Clash indicates to me that the developers wanted to present a balanced experience to make the faster-paced combat more interesting and thought-provoking. Again, more on that later. Now, granted, I'm only a couple hours into the story of the game, but it already feels like a far more intimate affair than Origins. Without an over-arching "save the world" storyline, the importance and priority of tasks falls to the individual player. How important is it, to you, to reclaim your birthright? Would you rather blast X amount of Y opponents in order to earn Z coins to progress the plot? Immersion in the plot and importance of its points has nothing to do with a threat hanging over the characters like a Sword of Damocles. Personally? I'm liking that. Kirkwall is a great setting for this sort of story. It feels like a living city. There's places to explore, some of which you shouldn't do during nighttime if you've any sense whatsoever, lots of people to talk to and history to build upon. The scale of it, with buildings looming over you and figures shuffling to and fro, draws you into the world without overwhelming you. As you begin to make your way through Kirkwall, the concerns of the outside world cease to matter as much as getting yourself out of the roach-infested scummy streets of Lowtown. The tidbits of news coming in, however, are something I appreciate, especially knowing the decisions I made in Origins influence the headlines. Outside of Kirkwall, I'm not sure what to make of things. I've been through one rocky cavern already (the pass in the Sundermount related to Flemeth's quest) and I get the feeling that's the copy-pasted bit everybody's complaining about. We'll see, I suppose. Speaking of questing, so far it seems to be a decent continuation of previously-used structures. I haven't run into a straight-forward collection quest but I won't be surprised when one shows up. I like the day/night system, requiring Hawke to go to different places at different times, as it contributes to the feeling that this is a living, breathing city part of a legitimate world. However, I'm not sure how I feel about the breaking of questlines into bite-size chunks: go to this area, find this person, blast them & their cronies, move directly on to the next area. It removes some of the impetus for exploration that was abounding in Origins. Yes, I know, this runs counter to my previous complaints of Origin's length but in this case I think they've gone a bit too far in the other direction. Again, this is a first impression, so take it with the appropriate amount of salt. The changes to aesthetics are another divisive issue, and for my part the change of elves from normal humans with pointy ears to waspish humanoids with oversized heads and Irish accents hasn't grown on me yet. I mean, I dig the accents but the aesthetic is throwing me off. That could be part of the point - elves are supposed to be different from humans, after all - but the proportions just feel wrong. I haven't run into an qunari yet so I can't comment on that. But I still wonder why hurlocks, menacing creatures with human origins and malicious intent, look like rejects from Power Rangers and scuttle around with horrible posture instead of striding across the field to gleefully shove a wickedly-barbed dark longsword down my throat. A word on combat: I appreciate the ability to pause the combat to issue orders as I did in Origins, but the removal of the isometric top-down view bugs me. I like the fact that it's more active and fast-paced, with enhanced cries and interaction during a fight, but I can see why the removal of certain aspects pisses people off. Overall, though, I like it so far. One of the things that really annoys me, though, is equipment. Half of the things I pick up are Hawke-only, meaning a good two-thirds of the things available for sale are useless to me. I don't mind being able to save my coin, but it makes me feel like the development of my fellows' equipment is dependent more on doing quests instead of making intelligent pre-combat investment decisions. Again, this is a first impression rather than a review, so that might change in the hours and days to come, but for now I'm scratching my head every time I get another item drop. More to come, rest assured. Overall I'm really enjoying Dragon Age II, for the moment. We'll see how long it lasts.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

First Impressions: Dragon Age II

First Impressions: Dragon Age II — Blue Ink Alchemy

Finally. After pushing myself to complete a replay of my original character in Dragon Age: Origins and the Awakening expansion, I fired up the sequel at long last. I know I have a long way to go before I can do a legitimate review and I'm continuing to do my utmost to avoid exposing myself to reviews both positive and negative. So, after a couple hours in the Free Marches and some hardware tweaking assisted by Epixaricacy who convinced me to be unafraid of beta GPU patches, here are my first impressions of Dragon Age II.
Yes, I made my Hawke look like me. I did the same in Origins, and they're related. They're both mages from the same family.
...Don't you judge me. Characters continue to be BioWare's strong suit. While I haven't recruited every available party member yet, those I have encountered show a great range of personalities, motivations and quirkiness. I can't say I dislike any of them, but I like them all for different reasons. Hawke him/herself also shows a good range of character depending on how we register his/her responses using a dialog wheel instead of the numbered choices of Origins. I'm sure it's one of those divisive decisions that split the fan-base, but having Hawke speaking in his/her own voice gives the conversations more of a natural flow, and actually helps with the immersion into the story, which I'll get to in a moment. Staying with characters, however, the leveling system feels a lot less cumbersome than the previous game. It's easier to make decisions as to how to tweak individual characters, and it seems that the reduced amount of choices will keep players from being overwhelmed and characters from outstripping their opponents. The lack of things like Mana Clash indicates to me that the developers wanted to present a balanced experience to make the faster-paced combat more interesting and thought-provoking. Again, more on that later. Now, granted, I'm only a couple hours into the story of the game, but it already feels like a far more intimate affair than Origins. Without an over-arching "save the world" storyline, the importance and priority of tasks falls to the individual player. How important is it, to you, to reclaim your birthright? Would you rather blast X amount of Y opponents in order to earn Z coins to progress the plot? Immersion in the plot and importance of its points has nothing to do with a threat hanging over the characters like a Sword of Damocles. Personally? I'm liking that. Kirkwall is a great setting for this sort of story. It feels like a living city. There's places to explore, some of which you shouldn't do during nighttime if you've any sense whatsoever, lots of people to talk to and history to build upon. The scale of it, with buildings looming over you and figures shuffling to and fro, draws you into the world without overwhelming you. As you begin to make your way through Kirkwall, the concerns of the outside world cease to matter as much as getting yourself out of the roach-infested scummy streets of Lowtown. The tidbits of news coming in, however, are something I appreciate, especially knowing the decisions I made in Origins influence the headlines. Outside of Kirkwall, I'm not sure what to make of things. I've been through one rocky cavern already (the pass in the Sundermount related to Flemeth's quest) and I get the feeling that's the copy-pasted bit everybody's complaining about. We'll see, I suppose. Speaking of questing, so far it seems to be a decent continuation of previously-used structures. I haven't run into a straight-forward collection quest but I won't be surprised when one shows up. I like the day/night system, requiring Hawke to go to different places at different times, as it contributes to the feeling that this is a living, breathing city part of a legitimate world. However, I'm not sure how I feel about the breaking of questlines into bite-size chunks: go to this area, find this person, blast them & their cronies, move directly on to the next area. It removes some of the impetus for exploration that was abounding in Origins. Yes, I know, this runs counter to my previous complaints of Origin's length but in this case I think they've gone a bit too far in the other direction. Again, this is a first impression, so take it with the appropriate amount of salt. The changes to aesthetics are another divisive issue, and for my part the change of elves from normal humans with pointy ears to waspish humanoids with oversized heads and Irish accents hasn't grown on me yet. I mean, I dig the accents but the aesthetic is throwing me off. That could be part of the point - elves are supposed to be different from humans, after all - but the proportions just feel wrong. I haven't run into an qunari yet so I can't comment on that. But I still wonder why hurlocks, menacing creatures with human origins and malicious intent, look like rejects from Power Rangers and scuttle around with horrible posture instead of striding across the field to gleefully shove a wickedly-barbed dark longsword down my throat. A word on combat: I appreciate the ability to pause the combat to issue orders as I did in Origins, but the removal of the isometric top-down view bugs me. I like the fact that it's more active and fast-paced, with enhanced cries and interaction during a fight, but I can see why the removal of certain aspects pisses people off. Overall, though, I like it so far. One of the things that really annoys me, though, is equipment. Half of the things I pick up are Hawke-only, meaning a good two-thirds of the things available for sale are useless to me. I don't mind being able to save my coin, but it makes me feel like the development of my fellows' equipment is dependent more on doing quests instead of making intelligent pre-combat investment decisions. Again, this is a first impression rather than a review, so that might change in the hours and days to come, but for now I'm scratching my head every time I get another item drop. More to come, rest assured. Overall I'm really enjoying Dragon Age II, for the moment. We'll see how long it lasts.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Airplane!

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Airplane! — Blue Ink Alchemy

[audio:http://www.blueinkalchemy.com/uploads/airplane.mp3] The year was 1980. It was a time when volcanos erupted, disco was dying, empires struck back and an actor became President of the United States. Comedy, satire and parody were nothing new to the people of this time, but when Airplane! premiered, it not only delivered the screwiest of screwball pictures to date, it also defined parody films for years to come, on the basis of being an absolute scream. The airplane of the emphatic title is a jet liner traveling from San Francisco to New York, and tragedy lurks in the shadows of the plane. The meals available to the passengers are steak and fish, but the fish has gone bad and will poison several passengers and the entire flight crew. Unable to rely on the automatic pilot, Otto, for landing, stewardess Elaine must turn to a man she's trying to leave behind, a man haunted by his time in battle, the only pilot left on the plane who can save all their lives: Ted Striker. Stated so plainly, the plot might not sound like a premise for an absurd comedy. However, it does establish a solid basis for clear-eyed, lantern-jawed actors to deliver their lines with stony earnestness, while something absolutely hysterical is going on in the background. Following hot on the heels of Mel Brooks' Blazing Saddles, Airplane! adds celebrity cameos, direct spoofing of disaster movies (Zero Hour! in particular, which this film actually remade) and brick joke setups to the mix. The result is a movie that is smart, well-paced and very, very funny.
Mr. Bridges would disagree; it's totally a serious movie. Totally. The comedy team of Zucker, Abrahams and Zucker (remember them?) first burst into film with this title, and it changed a lot of things. While comedy was nothing new on the silver screen, it classically involved actors with comedic backgrounds almost exclusively. Airplane! broke that mold wide open with some brilliant casting. Peter Graves, Lloyd Bridges, the aforementioned Leslie Neilsen and especially Robert Stack were known primarily for their dramatic or action-oriented roles. It shows in their delivery, the confidence they project and the way in which their presence inhabits the screen, even as we laugh hysterically at the antics unfolding around them. Much like The Naked Gun and other films that would follow this one, Airplane! relies on audience attention, very rarely calling direct attention to a gag. Which isn't to say they don't; Johnny's bit with the lights is a notable exception. The crux of the comedy lies in the ability of the actors to maintain straight faces, from Robert Hays' Ted somberly referring to his 'drinking problem' to Captain Oveur's rather odd questions to the young boy who comes up to the cockpit.
"Joey? Do you like movies about gladiators?" To say more would surely spoil a great deal of the jokes. And they're almost all winners, from the presence of NBA legend Kareem Abdul-Jabbar to the final screen performance of Ethel Merman, from June Cleaver speaking 'jive' to a gag Robert Stack pulls that could later be played backwards as a meme reference. It's packed so full of humor that the disaster movie plot is nearly superfluous. That's forgivable, however, when the humor is this funny and timeless. The movie might have come out in 1980, but the fact that we can, in 2011, still roll on the floor in reaction to the jokes is a testament to what good writing can do for a comedy. I know what you might be saying: "Surely, this is a glowing recommendation for this movie!" [spoiler]Yes. It is. And don't call me Shirley.[/spoiler] Josh Loomis can't always make it to the local megaplex, and thus must turn to alternative forms of cinematic entertainment. There might not be overpriced soda pop & over-buttered popcorn, and it's unclear if this week's film came in the mail or was delivered via the dark & mysterious tubes of the Internet. Only one thing is certain... IT CAME FROM NETFLIX.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

It's Just Too Easy

It's Just Too Easy — Blue Ink Alchemy

I know this is an issue that has been addressed elsewhere. In the majority of modern first-person shooters, even ones touted for their realism, all you have to do in order to survive a firefight in which you've been wounded is crouch behind a chest-high wall. Your health regenerates by itself. I'm not entirely sure when this trend began, but it's removed an element of risk from those games and made them easier than they necessarily need to be. A similar problem crops up in storytelling from time to time. Rather than carefully constructing the narrative with disparate and possibly contradictory plot threads in the beginning to be woven together at the end, some stories have no qualms about stating everything for the audience as plainly as possible. And some of these tales become embarassingly popular, as the bland plotlines and flat characters spoon-feed 'entertainment' to the waiting masses. Go back and watch how many times Anakin & Padme say they're in love in comparison to the times when they actually show it. Watch Shia LeBouf project danger and tension by yelling a lot instead of wearing an expression other than dull surprise. Listen to the delivery of lines in a Gears of War, God of War or Call of Duty sequel and see if you can discern emotions other than those related to macho swagger. Now, I'm not saying every game has to be a Killer7 or a BioShock. Not every film will be able to match The Usual Suspects or Inception. Few novels will measure up to A Game Of Thrones or Oryx and Crake. Consider me to be of the opinion that writers who make an attempt to show what's going on instead of just telling, who opt to challenge their audience rather than making things easier on them, are going to be met with more success and repeat business. Let doubts linger in the shadows of the narrative and characters keep their agendas hidden until the last possible moment. This will engage the audience and make them invested in seeing the story through until the end. Going back to the bit about regenerating health, the point I'm trying to make is that the player should be empowered to determine how much they risk and how often. If I'm playing Half-Life 2, I might pass up a health station because I know there's a hard firefight right around the corner. In Dragon Age I churn out health poultices and study Spirit Healer spells to keep my party alive during combat. Some forethought has to be invested, but the end result is a more rewarding experience that I'm interested in repeating. Writing really isn't all that different.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Ninety-Nine Cent Round-Up

Ninety-Nine Cent Round-Up — Blue Ink Alchemy

I support $1 coins, incidentally. There's been a debate going on amongst some of my fellow writers, and it's past time I put in my two cents on the subject. Before I get to my thoughts on the matter, though, I highly recommend you do two things. First, go on over to Terribleminds' "The Care And Feeding Of Your Favorite Authors" and follow the instructions encased therein. Don't worry, it just involves reading a few posts, nothing involving shotguns or whiskey or hobos or 4 D-cell powered vibrators. Second, read this Mess Of Free Words On The Whole 99 Cent Thing on Going Ballistic. Come on back here when you're done. Lots of good stuff, there. I especially like Cat's point that folks willing to spend $5.99 on a latte should be okay spending it on a book (just in case you missed it in Chuck's post). And an anthology of short fiction shouldn't differ in price too much from a novel; it can be just as tough to write one coherent 80,000 word narrative as it can be to write 8 10,000 shorts. Still, I have to admit I'm in agreement with most of my peers: $0.99 is too little for full-length fiction. Don't get me wrong, I understand the economical reasoning for wanting to spend less for more. Me and my ilk are not called starving artists because we're flush with disposable income. So any opportunity we have to keep from going under while drawing in entertainment to help maintain our sanity is a good one. That doesn't necessarily mean that dollar book on the e-store is a decent read, however. The few e-books I've picked up for that low a price have been promotional or sale items from known quantities. Chuck and Seth Godin have established reputations, at least in the circles I travel through. It's the unknown that makes me leery, the as-yet-unpublished authors tossing full-length novels on the Kindle store for less than a dollar with one five-star review from their mothers. I know this might seem like a nasty, negative attitude to have towards my fellow burgeoning bards, but the fact of the matter is my time is as precious as my money, and there's only slightly more time than money for me to spread around. I'd like to avoid wasting it, if I can, which means being discerning about what and when I read. It's one thing to undercut the competition, like the big-name publishing houses asking $13 for the e-book version of a $12.99 hardcover when the $6,99 paperback is about to be released. It's another to do it to the degree of seeming desperate. You have to sell your work, sure, but you don't want to sell yourself short. Self-publication on the electronic market seems more and more like the business model of freelancing in general. You won't be charging as much as the big guys, but you need to be realistic in just how little you can charge. In order to earn, you need to set both your price points and end-user expectations appropriately. You want people to feel like they've made a worthy investment, that the services or entertainment they've paid for was worth the money. At the same time, we want to be paid what we're worth and keep ourselves fed to do more work and, you know, keep on living. It really boils down to a matter beyond market research and profit analysis, to one of personal confidence: How much to you stand behind your work? How much would you expect to pay for something similar? How willing are you to market it, to get out there and sell it? What are you offering that nobody else on the Kindle store can, and how much do people need it even if they don't know they do until they see your listing? I don't think e-books are going to replace the real thing any time soon, and I'm going to continue to pursue many ways of getting my words in front of fresh new eyeballs. This might be another way of doing it, but I'd like to try and do it right, without selling myself short in the process.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Perception

Perception — Blue Ink Alchemy

In the broadest possible terms, Jungian psychology divides the self into three parts, much like Freud does, but Jung's divisions have less to do with urges than they do with perception. There is the self we are, the self we believe ourselves to be, and the self perceived by others. With sufficient observation and self-awareness, it's possible to discern how others perceive us and even alter that perception. Naturally, it's something we can apply to our characters as much as ourselves.

"William Wallace is seven feet tall!" "Yes, I've heard! Kills men by the hundreds, and if he were here he'd consume the English with fireballs from his eyes and bolts o' lightning from his arse!"

Heroes, protagonists and so-called 'good guys' rarely pay much attention to how they're perceived. We accept and, on some level, expect a level of humility from most heroes that precludes them from worrying about what others think overmuch. Occasionally, you'll have somebody like Tony Stark, who uses the media's perception of his persona not only to call attention to the evils he fights against but also to obfuscate the true depth of his character. For the most part, though, our heroes tend to be more like John McClain or Aragorn, avoiding undue attention as much as possible so they can focus on the task at hand. The perceptions others have of them grow of their own accord, and things that they do in the pursuit of their goal become legendary tales to those who hear of their feats. It's how the humble policeman and the reluctant ranger become heroes and kings.

"The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist."

Villains, on the other hand, make use of their perceptions often. Most of the time, it's in the course of playing up their menace. The more scared you are of someone, the less likely you are to stand up to them. Some of them go beyond mere intimdation to craft a perception of themselves in the minds of others so powerful that they don't need to look, say or do anything out of the ordinary. Sure, messing with Megatron or Skeletor is a bad idea. You don't assume, however, that picking on the little guy in the running crew could land you in big trouble. Many true villains cultivate perceptions of quiet, introverted advisors even as they steer the course of the world around them through quiet manipulation.

"So... I'm chasing this guy. Wait... wait, no, he's chasing me."

Finally there are those with conditions that might color the perception of others regardless of any moral stance they have. When they become aware of these perceptions, and the expectations that can come along with them, they can be just as manipulative of those perceptions as the canniest, most insidious villain. It causes other characters to question what they know and how they've come to know it. "The dwarf's a major threat? The psychopathic murder's polite and cultured? The apologetic man with the short-term memory loss has ice water for blood?" And let us not forget the perceptions of the audience. A character might seem to be utterly irredeemable in their eyes, until you allow them into that character's point of view or expand upon their background. Let the audience spend time with them, fill in some of the blanks they might have populated with their preconceptions, and watch their perceptions change. When it happens, the audience will often take a moment to realize and appreciate the shift, then proceed to seek more story. And we, as storytellers, should not hesitate to oblige.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Perception

Perception — Blue Ink Alchemy

In the broadest possible terms, Jungian psychology divides the self into three parts, much like Freud does, but Jung's divisions have less to do with urges than they do with perception. There is the self we are, the self we believe ourselves to be, and the self perceived by others. With sufficient observation and self-awareness, it's possible to discern how others perceive us and even alter that perception. Naturally, it's something we can apply to our characters as much as ourselves.

"William Wallace is seven feet tall!" "Yes, I've heard! Kills men by the hundreds, and if he were here he'd consume the English with fireballs from his eyes and bolts o' lightning from his arse!"

Heroes, protagonists and so-called 'goog guys' rarely pay much attention to how they're perceived. We accept and, on some level, expect a level of humility from most heroes that precludes them from worrying about what others think overmuch. Occasionally, you'll have somebody like Tony Stark, who uses the media's perception of his persona not only to call attention to the evils he fights against but also to obfuscate the true depth of his character. For the most part, though, our heroes tend to be more like John McClain or Aragorn, avoiding undue attention as much as possible so they can focus on the task at hand. The perceptions others have of them grow of their own accord, and things that they do in the pursuit of their goal become legendary tales to those who hear of their feats. It's how the humble policeman and the reluctant ranger become heroes and kings.

"The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist."

Villains, on the other hand, make use of their perceptions often. Most of the time, it's in the course of playing up their menace. The more scared you are of someone, the less likely you are to stand up to them. Some of them go beyond mere intimdation to craft a perception of themselves in the minds of others so powerful that they don't need to look, say or do anything out of the ordinary. Sure, messing with Megatron or Skeletor is a bad idea. You don't assume, however, that picking on the little guy in the running crew could land you in big trouble. Many true villains cultivate perceptions of quiet, introverted advisors even as they steer the course of the world around them through quiet manipulation.

"So... I'm chasing this guy. Wait... wait, no, he's chasing me."

Finally there are those with conditions that might color the perception of others regardless of any moral stance they have. When they become aware of these perceptions, and the expectations that can come along with them, they can be just as manipulative of those perceptions as the canniest, most insidious villain. It causes other characters to question what they know and how they've come to know it. "The dwarf's a major threat? The psychopathic murder's polite and cultured? The apologetic man with the short-term memory loss has ice water for blood?" And let us not forget the perceptions of the audience. A character might seem to be utterly irredeemable in their eyes, until you allow them into that character's point of view or expand upon their background. Let the audience spend time with them, fill in some of the blanks they might have populated with their preconceptions, and watch their perceptions change. When it happens, the audience will often take a moment to realize and appreciate the shift, then proceed to seek more story. And we, as storytellers, should not hesitate to oblige.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Game Review: Dungeon Overlord beta

Game Review: Dungeon Overlord beta — Blue Ink Alchemy

Sometimes, you just want to be the bad guy. Quite a few games cater to these tastes and moods, from being able to select the 'evil' characters in a fighting game to full Villain Protagonist games such as Legacy of Kain and Overlord. Even games in the style of The Sims are not immune to this. A while back there was a game called Dungeon Keeper, in which the player builds, populates and militarizes a malicious, mountainous lair in order to terrorize the countryside and bring doom upon the heads of would-be heroes looking to steal hard-earned treasure mined from deep within the earth. That style of game is alive and well, now, in a little SoE Facebook game called Dungeon Overlord.
Not available on iPod, iPad or iAnything until they make nice with Flash. Yeah, it's a Facebook game. Eventually, gamers are going to have to face the fact that this sort of venue for gaming is growing, just as consoles did back in the mid-80s. Before the PS3 and X-Box, there was the SNES and the Genesis, like the NES and Atari 2600 before them. With things like FarmVille and Mafia Wars being the first tentative steps forward in using social networking sites as a platform for games, I think it's a more productive attitude to consider those early titles relics of the past best left in the annals of history, Dungeon Overlord may end up a footnote as well, but as it stands, it's head and shoulders above any old farm or any number of trips to the East Side for Uncle Vito. It's the Legend of Zelda to Farmville's Breakout. Anyway, Dungeon Overlord's premise is that of its similarly titled ancestor. You, as the Overlord of the title, begin with a small dungeon at the base of a mountain, a couple resources to mine and a handful of loyal goblin minions to do your bidding. They'll need places to sleep and eat between shifts in the mine, so you need to build these things, as well as a means to generate food and a place to keep your stuff. Eventually, you'll be recruiting orcs to carry out raids as well as protect your investment, warlocks to conduct research and so on. Once you've built up enough of a force and upgraded several rooms, you can expand to a new dungeon, raise hell on the do-gooders in the land and otherwise amuse yourself in ways Skeletor could only dream of, and without the constant threat of some blond-haired beefcake smashing your face in.
I feel a bit like The Monarch from Venture Brothers. "MINIONS!!" One of the things that differentiates Dungeon Overlord from other games of its ilk is the simple ways it enhances the established experiences of such things. The creatures, rooms and features are rendered and shaded in a way that gives them weight that the simplistic styles of FarmVille and the like use; and the fact that all theses things have unique animations definitely give Dungeon Overlord the graphical edge on games like Mafia Wars. A series of 'quests' at the beginning guide the new player through basic construction tasks and establish goals in a very smooth way without imposing too much structure upon the build process. While it's nice to have this freedom, Dungeon Overlord doesn't seem to operate under the premise that your victims can, in fact, retaliate if they get raided too often. Sure, there are no ultra-male hero protagonists that will demolish everything in sight to pillage your dungeons, but the occasional sortie of footmen and high elves might pay you a visit with swords and bows. You might not know about it until you check in after a few hours. Thankfully, it's not too difficult to build and set up defenses, and I have yet to see a truly overwhelming force breach my gates. It also bears mentioning that, being a Facebook game, SOE provides a variety of services through the medium of microtransactions.
Hmm. Who would I like to pillage today? However, at the time of this writing, I've yet to drop a single dime on Sony's in-game cash, and I doubt I'll be doing so. Provided you upgrade rooms like your mine, vault and workshop adequately, you'll generate income and materials steadily enough that it should not be necessary for you to spend real money on fake resources and crafting queues. Unless you absolutely, positively cannot live without an ogre hammock in your den. Even then, somebody might have already built one and put it up in the Auction H- sorry, Regional Market for purchase. And if your goblins are mining gold like crazy but you just don't have enough leather or what have you, buying stuff from other players within the game is a better alternative than breaking out the credit card. Dungeon Overlord is still in beta. It will occasionally throw up a maintenance screen, refuse to load properly or misinterpret your clicks. I can't shake the feeling, through, that SOE has the right idea. If you have a Facebook account and are even remotely interested in something like this, I'd say give it a look. It'll be interesting to see what changes are made once the beta period ends. Whenever that will be.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! The Naked Gun

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! The Naked Gun — Blue Ink Alchemy

[audio:http://www.blueinkalchemy.com/uploads/naked_gun.mp3] The parody is hardly a new form of artistic expression. People have been making fun of things other people do since time immemorial. I'm sure there are some cave drawings that, in context, are downright hilarious. For a few years the premiere comedy team for cinematic parody were David Zucker, Jim Abrahams and Jerry Zucker. One of the finest examples of their work came about in the form of a series of films that have been mercilessly pursued, copied and mined for ideas. It all began with The Naked Gun. Okay, I lie. It all began with Police Squad!, a television show aimed at taking the piss out of the hard-bitten noir detective shows like Dragnet. The Naked Gun is the full-length film that grew out of that show, starring Leslie Neilsen as Detective Lieutenant Frank Drebin. Drebin's a decent cop in a bad town, narrating the particulars of the case at hand and his feelings for Jane, a beautiful woman who seems to keep getting mixed up with slick corporate villains. With this somewhat loose outline of a plot, the writers worry less about the drama inherent to noir crime yarns and more about the right timing of a sight gag, the best snappy comeback and the most over-the-top way in which they can tackle a pop culture target. When Leslie Neilsen passed away I was among those who mourned. His sense of comedic timing and elastic facial expressions were coupled with a fine form of gravitas which allowed him to deliver punchlines with the sort of straight-faced stoniness that'd put the detectives on Law & Order to shame. I consider the Naked Gun films to be among his finest work, though he also really shined in Airplane! to the point that "Don't call me Shirley" creeped into the common parlance of anybody fashioning themselves as a top-tier wiseass.
I dare you not to laugh at this great man. There are two reasons I feel the comedy in these movies work as well as it does. First, the characters aren't in on the joke. While the actions that take place and the circumstances in which these people find themselves might be ridiculous, the characters themselves very rarely nudge or even wink at the audience to make sure they get the punchline. The things that are clearly ludicrous to us as observers is unlikely to be commented upon by the characters in the scene, as if they're oblivious to things like odd chalk outlines or the particular detail given by sculptors to the genitals of the statues outside the high floor of an apartment building. The characters might not comment on these things, but there they are, for the audience to behold and laugh at. Which leads me to the other reason the Naked Gun movies are rightfully considered go-to examples of well-done parodies. The movie assumes the audience is observant, if not smart. Instead of inserting pregnant pauses, obvious musical stings or other shallow means of calling attention to a moment the writers fell all over themselves laughing, the gags and bits play out in a very smooth, almost breakneck manner in terms of pace and execution. You might be wondering what the difference is between The Naked Gun and, say, one of those Scary Movie sequels.
There's a joke about the Wayans Brothers in here somewhere... It seems to me the many of those sequels and spin-off movies act a bit like carbon copies of The Naked Gun. While the content has been dutifully duplicated and updated with even more pop culture references and gross bodily humor, the intelligence behind that humor, the ability of the actors to play their scenes straight and the assumption that the audience doesn't need their metaphorical hands held to know when to laugh are all absent. Due to this, the humor suffers, and if the comedy in your comedy movie isn't funny, you haven't got much left, have you? That said, comedy is largely a subjective thing. It's a case of one man's meat being another man's poison. I mean, there are people out there who find Grandma's Boy or Trapped in Paradise hilarious, I'm sure. Still, I'm going to go out on a limb here, and say that The Naked Gun and its sequels have a sort of timeless, universal appeal. They can find a place on just about any Netflix queue. I mean my wife, who typically isn't a fan of comedies, found them to be pretty funny. And this is the reason I'm tackling these films, you see, because this day, the 18th of March, is her birthday. She recently retooled her blog and there's lots of content to come there, so why don't you swing by and check her out? Let it not be said I forget my loved ones on their birthday, even if the only day-of present I can provide is a shameless plug. Josh Loomis can't always make it to the local megaplex, and thus must turn to alternative forms of cinematic entertainment. There might not be overpriced soda pop & over-buttered popcorn, and it's unclear if this week's film came in the mail or was delivered via the dark & mysterious tubes of the Internet. Only one thing is certain... IT CAME FROM NETFLIX.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Grains of Salt

Grains of Salt — Blue Ink Alchemy

Courtesy Jared Fein & laryn.kragtbakker.com Sooner or later, the work you do is going to come under fire. Mistakes are going to be made. Guess what? You're a human being. Mistakes are inevitable. How those mistakes are handled, corrected and prevented from repeating themselves matter more than the mistakes themselves, with the experience informing the better construction of future works. Hence, "constructive criticism." It tends to work best, however, if the criticism begins with you. And as a critic, you suck. At least when it comes to your own work, that is. Your opinions, your creations, your procedures have all be formed by you (or, in the case of opinions, possibly snatched from more prominent critics for rapid regurgitation - we'll get to that) and you're going to be as defensive of them as any creator is of their created. I'm as guilty of this as anyone, and I know how that sort of behavior can circle right around and kick you square in the ass just when you don't need it to. It's like bruises in martial arts, loose teeth in hockey, a face covered in egg on a televised debate. It's going to happen. Beyond a couple of opinions of yourself and your creations that I can tell you are patently untrue, how to get back up when one of these events flattens you is a matter for the moment and circumstance. Communicate, discern, be patient and communicate more. Nobody will get anywhere while blood is up and words are lost in the volume, so step back, breathe, look at the situation and act in the interest of everybody involved, not just you. Okay, enough hand-holding and team-building, here are two big fat lies we tell ourselves when it comes to stuff we do.

This Is The Best Thing In The History Of Ever!

No. No, it isn't.
The following might feel something like the above. The things we consider great only got that way through long, grueling processes, the input of several people and the viability of whatever environment into which they were released. There's a factor of luck involved as well, but that's not something we can control, so we'll leave it out of this deconstruction. Basically, to keep ourselves going, we may at times tell ourselves that what we're doing is good. That's fine, and it probably either is good or will become good. What it isn't is the best thing ever. Not on its own, and especially not in its first iteration. No author I know of hit the bestseller list with their first draft or even their first book. No director makes an Oscar-winner the first time they point a camera at something, unless they got their hands on the super-secret list of critera the folks in the Academy check off when they watch movies that might be worthy of the golden statues they give to rich people. Then again I've grown somewhat jaded with the whole Oscar thing and it's colored my opinion somewhat. That's another thing. Opinions. Now I'm as guilty of the following as another special snowflake individual on the planet, and it bears saying & repeating to myself as much as anybody else. I'm fully aware of the glass house in which I live, but dammit, sometimes you just gotta toss a rock. Your opinion is unlikely to be entirely your own. It might be right or wrong, but to defend it like it's gospel is not going to win you any friends no matter from where or whom it originally derived. Our tastes, viewpoints and leanings are a combination of our life experiences, the things others say and do around us and the environment in which we live. Other people have had similar experiences, heard or seen the same things we have and/or live in similar environments. That means your opinion is highly likely to be not entirely your own and should be taken with a grain of salt, even if you're telling it to yourself. Back to your work. I'm sure it began with a good idea. Ideas can persist through edits, revisions and future iterations. The idea might still be good even if the implementation sucks ass. That doesn't mean the overall product is good. A good idea badly implemented makes for a bad product. Look at what happened to Star Wars. What's important to keep in mind is that you might not be able to find all of the flaws in your own work, and in order to make it the best it can be before it ships, you might need to take some knocks to the ego. If you can remember that your idea and work are not the Best Things Ever, if you can maintain the ability to take your own creations with a grain of salt from an objective viewpoint, the overall product will be much shinier for it. TL,DR: Don't act like your shit don't stink.

This Absolutely Sucks & Will Never Amount To Anything, I Should Quit Now

Cheer up, emo donkey. Ah, the other extreme. I hate this one just as much. Let me pause a moment before I rant in the other direction from where I just came from. If you truly feel your time will be better spent doing somthing other than the thing that you're considering the absolute worst that humanity has to offer, I can understand that. Go and do the other thing you want to do. I and others might still consider what you've done worthwhile or even worth sharing, but you are the best arbiter of how to spend your time and energy. Just remember others are entitled to their opinions as much as you are. Okay? Okay. Remember how I said that the things we consider great didn't start that way? That means they started in a state of not being great. In fact some of the first attempts probably sucked out loud. I'd love to see a first draft of The Stand or an early shooting script of RDM's from Battlestar Galactica or Michaelangelo's first painting. These creative minds only became great after the grueling process of editing, revising, being told they suck, editing and revising again, and managing to find the right time, people and environment for introducing their work. Since soothsaying isn't exactly a reliable basis for planning, the only way to find the right time is to keep trying. Finding the right people means going out and meeting some. And locating the right environment can be a matter of research. Don't try to put a work with a narrow genre focus into purveyors with general, broad interests; try instead to locate an venue catering to similar tastes and passions to whom you can relate and communicate, and let them see what you can do. The ceiling of the Sistine Chapel is a monumental achievement, but it wouldn't have gotten painted if Michaelangelo had been approached by the manager of a Starbucks instead of His Holiness. Notice that this is all stuff you can control. Your work is no different. If you really think your work isn't good, and you want it to be, you can improve it. Work at it. Practice. Don't let the nay-sayers and the lowest common denominator and the mediocrity get you down. Nothing excellent ever comes to be out of nowhere and without some work and sacrifice. Give up some time, expend some energy, burn a little midnight oil, and make that thing as powerful and awesome as you can. And believe me, most of us are capable of being pretty damn awesome if we're willing to pay that price. TL,DR: Don't act like your shit is a world-scale biohazard.

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I think I've said about all I can on this subject. No human being is the be-all end-all of all great things; neither are any of us completely and utterly irredeemable. I think we could all stand to take things said to us, about us and by us with a few more grains of salt.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Eulogy for the PC

Eulogy for the PC — Blue Ink Alchemy

My wife's corner of the living room is dominated by an anachronism. An aged, clunky CRT monitor squats on top of the bookshelf behind her desk. On that desk, now, is a shiny new Acer laptop with a wider display than that old beast, not to mention much faster & cleaner peformance to the oversized paperweight of a PC to which the old monitor's connected. I keep meaning to move things around so she has a little more room, but I can't help but look at that corner and think of Bob's Big Picture feature on the death of the PC. I've been building my own PCs for years. Ever since I got one sore knuckle and torn finger too many from the confines of a Packard Bell case, I've wanted to make the experience of working with computers easier and better. For years it's also been the case that upgrading a system through the purchase of a pile of parts has been more cost-effective than buying something from a store shelf, to say nothing of the flexibility and lack of bloatware inherent with taking the construction & installation onto oneself. But technology is moving on. My wife's laptop cost as much as the upgrade I just put into my desktop case, and while the bleeding edge Sandy Bridge processor will satisfy computing needs for (I hope) quite a few years, her laptop is just as good. If the ancient external drive to which I'd saved our Dragon Age games hadn't ground that data into powder, it'd have been a completely painless upgrade. That won't happen again, of course, because not only are the hard drives we have today lightyears ahead of that dinosaur, we can always upload our save data to a cloud. And it's not like I need my desktop to write. I do most of these updates in a text editor (gedit, if you're curious) before taking the content and putting it into the blog, enhanced with pictures dropped into Photobucket and the occasional bit of rambling audio. I can do that with pretty much any device. Within the next year, fingers crossed & the creek don't rise, I'll be retiring this old workhorse of mine with some iteration of the Asus Transformer - hell, I'd write blog updates on my Kindle if it had a decent text editor. My point is that as much as I love my PC, as nostalgic as I'll wax about StarCraft II marathons and isometric views in games like Dragon Age: Origins and LAN parties and simulators like Wing Commander, there's no reason not to celebrate the growth of the technologies we as gamers use to enjoy our hobby. The tech emerging on a steady basis is lightyears ahead of what many of us grew up using. From number crunching to heat management, the computing devices we use today are so superior to those old devices it staggers the imagination. If I went back even ten years and told myself that within a decade people would be using tablets in lieu of laptops and there would be laptops that turn into tablets on the horizon, I'd congradulate myself on being such an imaginative science-fiction writer. In my humble opinion, technology changing and evolving is a good thing, and there are a lot more benefits than drawbacks when it comes to embracing that change. The thing is, as Captain Kirk pointed out once, "people can be very frightened of change."

"They made the game easier to play and dumbed down the mechanics! TO ARMS!" "This has nothing to do with the previous parts of the narrative because it's using new characters we don't know! A PLAGUE ON EVERYONE'S HOUSES!" "WHAT? Visual changes that make things unfamiliar/derivative/different from before? KILL IT WITH FIRE!" "PCs are no longer inherently superior to consoles? LIES AND SLANDER, I SAY!"

Start a bandwagon and you'll be sure to find people happy to jump aboard it without forming opinions of their own. In fact the lemonade (haterade?) being served on TGO's bandwagon is rather refreshing, now that you mention it.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Eulogy for the PC

Eulogy for the PC — Blue Ink Alchemy

My wife's corner of the living room is dominated by an anachronism. An aged, clunky CRT monitor squats on top of the bookshelf behind her desk. On that desk, now, is a shiny new Asus laptop with a wider display than that old beast, not to mention much faster & cleaner peformance to the oversized paperweight of a PC to which the old monitor's connected. I keep meaning to move things around so she has a little more room, but I can't help but look at that corner and think of Bob's Big Picture feature on the death of the PC. I've been building my own PCs for years. Ever since I got one sore knuckle and torn finger too many from the confines of a Packard Bell case, I've wanted to make the experience of working with computers easier and better. For years it's also been the case that upgrading a system through the purchase of a pile of parts has been more cost-effective than buying something from a store shelf, to say nothing of the flexibility and lack of bloatware inherent with taking the construction & installation onto oneself. But technology is moving on. My wife's laptop cost as much as the upgrade I just put into my desktop case, and while the bleeding edge Sandy Bridge processor will satisfy computing needs for (I hope) quite a few years, her laptop is just as good. If the ancient external drive to which I'd saved our Dragon Age games hadn't ground that data into powder, it'd have been a completely painless upgrade. That won't happen again, of course, because not only are the hard drives we have today lightyears ahead of that dinosaur, we can always upload our save data to a cloud. And it's not like I need my desktop to write. I do most of these updates in a text editor (gedit, if you're curious) before taking the content and putting it into the blog, enhanced with pictures dropped into Photobucket and the occasional bit of rambling audio. I can do that with pretty much any device. Within the next year, fingers crossed & the creek don't rise, I'll be retiring this old workhorse of mine with some iteration of the Asus Transformer - hell, I'd write blog updates on my Kindle if it had a decent text editor. My point is that as much as I love my PC, as nostalgic as I'll wax about StarCraft II marathons and isometric views in games like Dragon Age: Origins and LAN parties and simulators like Wing Commander, there's no reason not to celebrate the growth of the technologies we as gamers use to enjoy our hobby. The tech emerging on a steady basis is lightyears ahead of what many of us grew up using. From number crunching to heat management, the computing devices we use today are so superior to those old devices it staggers the imagination. If I went back even ten years and told myself that within a decade people would be using tablets in lieu of laptops and there would be laptops that turn into tablets on the horizon, I'd congradulate myself on being such an imaginative science-fiction writer. In my humble opinion, technology changing and evolving is a good thing, and there are a lot more benefits than drawbacks when it comes to embracing that change. The thing is, as Captain Kirk pointed out once, "people can be very frightened of change."

"They made the game easier to play and dumbed down the mechanics! TO ARMS!" "This has nothing to do with the previous parts of the narrative because it's using new characters we don't know! A PLAGUE ON EVERYONE'S HOUSES!" "WHAT? Visual changes that make things unfamiliar/derivative/different from before? KILL IT WITH FIRE!" "PCs are no longer inherently superior to consoles? LIES AND SLANDER, I SAY!"

Start a bandwagon and you'll be sure to find people happy to jump aboard it without forming opinions of their own. In fact the lemonade (haterade?) being served on TGO's bandwagon is rather refreshing, now that you mention it.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Where Camp Belongs

Where Camp Belongs — Blue Ink Alchemy

There exists a type of stage play that's so absurdly over the top as to defy belief. I'm speaking of the pantomime. Burlesque is another one that comes to mind. The subject matter of these productions could be anything, from teenage romantic angst to the Holocaust, and goes so completely across the line of good taste that they circumnavigate our imaginations and strive come out the other side where things are so ridiculous they're awesome again. It can be a very tricky thing to do, and it doesn't always work. In a similar vein, we have an unspoken sub-genre of films called 'camp'. The degree to which a film tends to be considered camp is directly proportional to the degree to which it takes itself seriously. If it tries one time too many to make a legitimate point or be more than camp, it's going to fail and the campier bits will just seem silly. Let it take the piss, however, and the overall effect is one of a fun if meaningless romp. MovieBob mentioned camp in his review of Red Riding Hood, and cited two examples that I feel serve as great 'bookends' for camp. On the one hand, we have Batman & Robin. Now more than once, this little flick tries to harken back to the campy days of the Adam West television series, but more than one serious story point, complete with straight-faced sincerity and somewhat bland delivery, is tied to the absurdity the way a concrete block is tied to the ankle of someone who disappointed the boss. I'm not saying Batman & Robin would have been saved if you'd taken out the subplots involving Alfred & Mister Freeze's wife, but it's definitely one of the movie's many problems. On the other end of the scale is Flash Gordon. It in no way takes itself seriously. Horny evil overlords, impromptu football games and breathing in space are all handwaved in the name of having a good time. The color palette is vibrant, the actors larger than life (especially in the case of BRIAN BLESSED) and the whole thing is powered by the music of Queen. I can't think of a campier movie that still manages to be enough fun to not overstay its welcome and make the audience feel like they spent their time well. There are a plethora of films in between these two. Some will try to tap the same vein and not quite get it right, like Masters of the Universe. Others will keep the special effects, music and sensibilities modern while keeping the level of seriousness quite low, like Stephen Sommers' The Mummy. From Independence Day to Moulin Rouge, there's plenty of camp out there, and it isn't all bad. Sometimes you want to crack open that doorstopper and take in some serious long-form fiction, and sometimes you reach for a comic book. Camp is that comic book, and there's nothing wrong with it. It has its place in our libraries, a space where it belongs, where our need for escapism exceeds our desire to remain in the real world. And it can work very well, unless you try to take it too seriously or otherwise muck it up. I'm looking at you, Schumaker.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Where Camp Belongs

Where Camp Belongs — Blue Ink Alchemy

There exists a type of stage play that's so absurdly over the top as to defy belief. I'm speaking of the pantomime. Burlesque is another one that comes to mind. The subject matter of these productions could be anything, from teenage romantic angst to the Holocaust, and goes so completely across the line of good taste that they circumnavigate our imaginations and strive come out the other side where things are so ridiculous they're awesome again. It can be a very tricky thing to do, and it doesn't always work. In a similar vein, we have an unspoken sub-genre of films called 'camp'. The degree to which a film tends to be considered camp is directly proportional to the degree to which it takes itself seriously. If it tries one time too many to make a legitimate point or be more than camp, it's going to fail and the campier bits will just seem silly. Let it take the piss, however, and the overall effect is one of a fun if meaningless romp. MovieBob mentioned camp in his review of Red Riding Hood, and cited two examples that I feel serve as great 'bookends' for camp. On the one hand, we have Batman & Robin. Now more than once, this little flick tries to harken back to the campy days of the Adam West television series, but more than one serious story point, complete with straight-faced sincerity and somwhat bland deliver, is tied to the absurdity the way a concrete block is tied to the ankle of someone who disappointed the boss. I'm not saying Batman & Robin would have been saved if you'd taken out the subplots involving Alfred & Mister Freeze's wife, but it's definitely one of the movie's many problems. On the other end of the scale is Flash Gordon. It in no way takes itself seriously. Horny evil overlords, impromptu football games and breathing in space are all handwaved in the name of having a good time. The color palette is vibrant, the actors larger than life (especially in the case of BRIAN BLESSED) and the whole thing is powered by the music of Queen. I can't think of a campier movie that still manages to be enough fun to not overstay its welcome and make the audience feel like they spent their time well. There are a plethora of films in between these two. Some will try to tap the same vein and not quite get it right, like Masters of the Universe. Others will keep the special effects, music and sensibilities modern while keeping the level of seriousness quite low, like Stephen Sommers' The Mummy. From Independence Day to Moulin Rouge, there's plenty of camp out there, and it isn't all bad. Sometimes you want to crack open that doorstopper and take in some serious long-form fiction, and sometimes you reach for a comic book. Camp is that comic book, and there's nothing wrong with it. It has its place in our libraries, a space where it belongs, where our need for escapism exceeds our desire to remain in the real world. And it can work very well, unless you try to take it too seriously or otherwise muck it up. I'm looking at you, Schumaker.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Where Camp Belongs

Where Camp Belongs — Blue Ink Alchemy

There exists a type of stage play that's so absurdly over the top as to defy belief. I'm speaking of the pantomime. Burlesque is another one that comes to mind. The subject matter of these productions could be anything, from teenage romantic angst to the Holocaust, and goes so completely across the line of good taste that they circumnavigate our imaginations and strive come out the other side where things are so ridiculous they're awesome again. It can be a very tricky thing to do, and it doesn't always work. In a similar vein, we have an unspoken sub-genre of films called 'camp'. The degree to which a film tends to be considered camp is directly proportional to the degree to which it takes itself seriously. If it tries one time to many to make a legitimate point or be more than camp, it's going to fail and the campier bits will just seem silly. Let it take the piss, however, and the overall effect is one of a fun if meaningless romp. MovieBob mentioned camp in his review of Red Riding Hood, and cited two examples that I feel serve as great 'bookends' for camp. On the one hand, we have Batman & Robin. Now more than once, this little flick tries to harken back to the campy days of the Adam West television series, but more than one serious story point, complete with straight-faced sincerity and somwhat bland deliver, is tied to the absurdity the way a concrete block is tied to the ankle of someone who disappointed the boss. I'm not saying Batman & Robin would have been saved if you'd taken out the subplots involving Alfred & Mister Freeze's wife, but it's definitely one of the movie's many problems. On the other end of the scale is Flash Gordon. It in no way takes itself seriously. Horny evil overlords, impromptu football games and breathing in space are all handwaved in the name of having a good time. The color palette is vibrant, the actors larger than life (especially in the case of BRIAN BLESSED) and the whole thing is powered by the music of Queen. I can't think of a campier movie that still manages to be enough fun to not overstay its welcome and make the audience feel like they spent their time well. There are a plethora of films in between these two. Some will try to tap the same vein and not quite get it right, like Masters of the Universe. Others will keep the special effects, music and sensibilities modern while keeping the level of seriousness quite low, like Stephen Sommers' The Mummy. From Independence Day to Moulin Rouge, there's plenty of camp out there, and it isn't all bad. Sometimes you want to crack open that doorstopper and take in some serious long-form fiction, and sometimes you reach for a comic book. Camp is that comic book, and there's nothing wrong with it. It has its place in our libraries, a space where it belongs, where our need for escapism exceeds our desire to remain in the real world. And it can work very well, unless you try to take it too seriously or otherwise muck it up. I'm looking at you, Schumaker.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy