Fullmetal Finale

Now that it has finally drawn to a close, I can definitively say that Fullmetal Alchemist is the best manga I have ever read. For those who have never heard of it, the comic series' follows two brothers who attempt to revive their dead mother using the art of alchemy. Their spell goes horribly wrong, and Ed, the elder brother ends up loosing his arm and his leg, while the Al younger brother loses his entire body. Ed manages to save his brother by attaching his soul to a suit of armor, and he replaces his lost limbs with robotic prostheses. The two set out to find the Philosophers Stone to recover their lost bodies. While the series' successes can't be attributed to any single element, I believe the most refreshing thing about the series is it's occidental quality; both in terms of aesthetics and narrative structure.

Edward and Alphonse Elric.

Coming from a westerner, I realize that probably seems incredibly arrogant. I'm not trying to say that all manga should strive to follow the conventions of Western fiction but there are certain elements of manga storytelling, and Shonen in particular, that are down-right hackneyed. Most Shonen heroes have no motivation beyond, "I must become stronger so I can protect those dear to me!" The hero gains enough strength to defeat whatever evil that is threatening his beloved comrades, only to run into a bigger and badder beast later on. I can't help but wonder what these school age superheroes would do with their lives if the bad guys ever stopped bothering them.This eternal dissatisfaction with oneself is extremely appealing to adolescents, who really do have to defeat waves of school work while navigating their hormones and the fucked up social conventions that dominate high school, but what do you do when you're done fighting? Shonen rarely attempts to answer those questions. 

Fullmetal Alchemist's characters all have hopes and dreams beyond defeating the bad guys. Admittedly, the bad guys themselves are flat, seeing how they're all based on the seven deadly sins. But considering that the villains are homunculi; artificial humans created by alchemy, their unidimensionality is actually quite logical. And series creator Hiromu Arakawa does a brilliant job of personifying Lust, Greed, Gluttony, Sloth, Pride, Wrath and Envy in compelling ways that make them threatening and loathsome. 

The other welcome westernization in Fullmetal Alchemist is the ending. Anime and Manga conclusions tend to feature incoherent plot twists, pathetic anticlimaxes, or an explosive, mind-fuck apotheosis. It's partially an East vs. West thing (the emphasis over there being on the journey as opposed to the destination) and it's partially a symptom of the grueling work ethic that defines Japanese culture. Sometimes, creators simply snap from the pressure, as was the case with Evangelion's original ending, which is so horrible it's hilarious. Then again, the "good" ending of Evangelion involves the birth of at least one god and the whole of humanity exploding into puddles of orange juice. This is pretty much par for the course as fas as anime endings go. The obvious explanation is that each of these endings are cultural echoes of what happened to Hiroshima, but knowing that does little to clarify what the hell is happening to the characters you have been following for 26 episodes. 

More frequently, especially when it comes to anime adaptations of ongoing manga, artists have to cobble together an ending for a series that has only just begun. This was the case with the original Fullmetal Alchemist anime, where the artists had Ed take a trip to Nazi Germany out of nowhere.

Fortunately, the recently released conclusion of the manga is everything fans could hope for. It's comprehensive, creative, moving at times, and while it lays the main adventure to rest and ties up the important subplots, it also gives readers a good idea of how the characters will live out their lives now that they have vanquished the ultimate evil. There are some over-the top moments in the final fight, but the plot moves too fast to take itself too seriously. That's another thing I love about the series; it is not mellow-dramatic or over-wrought. The plot earns whatever emotional response it desires from it's readers with compelling events. There is very little introspective whining and none of the dramatic posturing that plagues series like Dragon Ball, Bleach and Naruto.  

Behold the self-portrait of a genius mangaka. I can't wait for Hiromu Arakawa 's next manga!

That said, Fullmetal Alchemist is still very much a manga. The story has a European aesthetic but the art style is very Japanese. The humor is visual and situational as opposed to sarcastic and cynical. While the pacing of the fights are much more visceral and realistic than most manga, the violence is very highly stylized and at times so complicated that it warrants considerable exposition. If you have the slightest interest in manga, consider Fullmetal Alchemist a must read. Or if you're pressed for time, watch the new anime series, titled Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, which faithfully follows the plot of the manga at the expense of some abridgment. You can get started here now!

Witchering Hours

At the end of my last post, I hinted at my weariness of Bioware's binary approach to narration and character building: Paragon vs. Renegade, Sith vs. Jedi, Light Path vs. Dark Path (am I the only one who remembers Jade Empire?). Dragon Age is a welcome departure from such dichotomies, though your companions' and their approval of you produces a similar sort of judgment system. Don't get me wrong, I love the game (I'll be writing on it soon) and I love Bioware, but I think CDProjekt beat them to the punch where dark, morally ambiguous fantasy is concerned. I am referring of course to their excellent first effort, The Witcher: Enhanced Edition.

I love icons and symbols, and The Witcher's badge is a mean piece of work.

The source material, Polish fantasy writer Andrzej Sapkowski's series of novels by the same name, is rich and ripe for a videogame adaptation. Both the books and the game are centered around The Witcher Geralt of Rivia. And what is a Witcher you ask? They are mutant white-haired badasses who get high on toxic alchemy and hunt beasts that go bump in the night. Theirs is a grim and grimy world fraught with feudal greed and supernatural peril. The game does a good job of transmuting this ugliness into a refreshing aesthetic; the world is convincingly and authentically dark, as opposed to being bombastically violent and sexualized.


I am only in the beginning of the game's massive 80+ hour quest, but the writing so far has been superb, and the story telling has been intriguingly receptive to interpretation. An example at the cost of a minor spoiler: In the first chapter, you are confronted by a lynch mob that blames a witch for summoning a hellhound that haunts their town. It is up to you to determine whether she is guilty, (and she is a scheming, feisty, seductive thing), or if the townspeople summoned the creature with their own misdeeds. After you make your call, you live with the consequences. There is no definitive truth revealed after the fact, no slider creeping toward saintliness or descending into antipathy, no "Morrigan disapproves." The game is about interpreting situations as opposed to making obvious moral judgment calls.

Now this is what a badass looks like. Haggard, scarred, but graceful as well, and positively lousy with sharp things. I mean, he's got a huge hook just hanging out on his belt!

The gameplay itself is also admirable, if awkwardly situated between third-person action and traditional western role playing tactics. The combat, even in the enhanced edition, seems like it would really glisten if it had just a little bit longer in the kiln, but I still prefer it to the often tedious, micromanaged tactics of Dragon Age and Neverwinter. The progression system is particularly praiseworthy; a blend of Final Fantasy X's sphere grid and Diablo II's skill trees. Each level up is an opportunity for customization and gaining multiple new powers. The game's alchemy system is also a nice addition, as it really reinforces the ritualistic, "Eye of Newt" approach to magic, while applying another layer of strategy and preparation to combat. I even found the game's "trading card" approach to sexual conquest to be an amusing tongue-in-cheek commentary on videogame romances. No, really. It's certainly no more crass than Mass Effect's Paramour achievements.


Speaking of collectibles, the enhanced edition includes a bounty of bonus loot: a music CD, a making-of DVD, and my favorites; a short story and a map of the fantasy world. They don't often make 'em like that anymore kids, I tell you what. My hopes are high for the sequel, though truth be told, I don't think I'll be able to complete the first game's sprawling campaign before it hits. There's no question of whether you'll be getting enough bang for your buck here though. If you want fantasy action that isn't afraid of gray areas, give ol' Geralt a try. You won't be disappointed.

Bioware used Sequel! It's Super (Mass) Effective!

It's been a hell of a long time since I wrote a videogame review. Let's fix that right now! My playing habits for the last academic year have been largely dominated by two little words: Mass Effect.

Note the strong blue hues of this poster, and how they compare to the reds of the sequel. Color coding series might be trite, but it's a trend I approve of.

The first game in the series was a deeply flawed experience. I can't think of a more underwhelming opening to a videogame than puttering around on through The Citadel, gathering evidence of Saren's bad behavior. In addition to the pacing issues, the combat system was ambitious (squad based shooting + RPG action!) but deeply flawed (gunplay was simultaneously silted and detached) and buggy to boot (I got stuck in prone position during the Matriarch Benezia fight: twice). The inventory system was sloppy and required constant attention. Despite these complaints, the game grew on me like mold on a raspberry. I liked the characters and the writing, which while very conventional, was sharp. I also liked how each alien race seemed to personify certain philosophical doctrines.

For example, the Asari, an 'all female' race of blue skinned psychics capable of reproducing with any other race via mental coitus, can be thought of as the ultimate feminists. In contrast, the brutish Krogans who consider headbutts to be a normal part of conversation, are perfect avatars for the adolescent male Id. The migrant Quarians who have been driven from their home world by their own robotic slaves, could be considered Space Jews, for lack of a more politically correct term. Throughout your journey, you amass a staggering body of information on these various races and their cultures in the games codex. Players can safely ignore all these little logistic details, but I was delighted to learn how Element Zero actually works.

All in all Mass Effect ended up being a fun experience overall. But it really doesn't hold a candle to it's sequel. The game literally opens with a bang and while the plot remains faithful to familiar sci-fi conventions, it is far more engaging than it's forerunner because you are repeatedly confronted by the consequences of your decisions. Did you threaten the eternally annoying Conrad Verner with a gun? Nice shootin', Tex. He'll be running around the sequel pretending to be the Goddamn batman. I would have liked to see some of your decisions, like the fate of the council, to have some appreciable influence on the way the plot unfolds, but running into familiar faces (and a few people you will have inevitably forgotten) has a certain charm.

Mass Effect 2 is one of the most successful videogame sequels I have ever played.

More significantly, Bioware made good on the unrealized gameplay promises of their first game. Mass Effect 2 successfully marries squad based third-person shooting to RPG strategy and abilities. While it lacks the verticality of modern 3rd person titles, ME2's gunplay feels tight and satisfying, if a little less visceral than 'dedicated' shooting and action titles. The over-involved inventory system has been replaced with a system centered around buying, 'researching' and upgrading. Gone are the hated mako sections, (though there is DLC available involving a jet Hovercraft that are similar and more fun). The most important upgrade is undoubtedly the addition of quick time events that allow you to act or interfere with cut-scenes in ways that have meaningful effects on the story. Usually, these events boil down to left clicking or right clicking to behave like a Paragon (fluffy diplomat) or a Renegade (borderline psychotic hard-ass). As tired as I am of this binary approach to character growth, this system makes conversations and other non-combative exchanges far more involving than in previous titles.

ME2 is not without it's faults, however. While the sequel never suffers from the monotonous pacing that plagued the first game, it does feel rigidly formulaic at times, particularly during the Loyalty Missions; side-quests that are supposed to deepen and characterize Shepard's supporting crew. Some missions, like Tali's, are quite inventive and they do an admirable job of expanding both the world and its characters. Others, like Jacob's, seem to prove that the writers had no idea what to do with certain characters. The most criminal aspect of the loyalty missions however, is that the third member of your squad turns into a mute, irrelevant mannequin. The game will tease you with potential tension between crew members, but they could do so much more with this in-fighting. It would also be interesting to see romance bud between somebody other than Shepard and his female crew members. Maybe Tali and Garrus could have a thing, only for it to adversely affect their performance during missions? Just a little food for thought.

Given that Mass Effect 2 was received with nearly universal critical acclaim, it will be interesting to see if Bioware plays things safe in act three, or if they continue to push the envelope with innovation. Most videogame companies strongly abide by the "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" school of thought. I'm still hoping they'll surprise me again.

A Gamer Romance

I first encountered Scott Pilgrim in a freshman seminar on comic books. Somebody brought in volumes 1 & 2 as examples of Indie Comic books, and I remember randomly flipping to a page where a guy died and turned into an item box containing a Mithril Skateboard which tragically goes to waste because the main character didn't pick skateboard proficiency in the fifth grade. Somebody prodded me to pass the book along, but I had seen enough. I was in love. But I was also younger and dumber and more easily distracted, so it took four more years and an awesome movie trailer before I actually remembered to buy the damn books and give them a read.

This is what volume one (of five) looks like. Most major booksellers will be stocking them to cash-in on the movie buzz.

At first, I intended to read the books and write about them after seeing the movie, but after devouring all five volumes in three days, I decided the comic merited a post of its own. The series taps directly into the casually violent, attention-deficient energy of the gamer subculture and blends it with the lyrical awkwardness of the hipsters. The main character is a proud underachiever and the bassist of a humble bedroom band, yet there is also a sort of soft elitism in play thanks to the staggering number of obscure videogame references; I'm not talking about "Big Bang Theory" name-droppings either; most of them are clever gags that you can only appreciate if you've played the titles in question. In addition to all that, the series displays the same sort of brilliant self-awareness and self-deprecation that was evident in Arrested Development. All these elements blend beautifully to make a beverage that does not only feel fresh, but long over-due.

Despite all of its absurd post modernity, the series' premise is remarkably simple and romantic: Scott Pilgrim must defeat Ramona Flower's Seven Evil Exes to pursue a real relationship. She is literally the woman of his dreams, as she uses extra-dimensional shortcuts, or "subspace highways" that pass through Scott's subconscious. This concept of subspace is not only a nice nod at Super Mario Bros. 2, but a fitting metaphor for the internet's role in online dating. Social networking sites map out the geography of social anxiety. When you're crushing on somebody, you Facebook-stalk them and you are stalked in turn by their status updates; haunting pieces of minutiae from a life you're not actually a privy to. I don't think Brian Lee O'Malley ever intended to get all allegorical with Pilgrim; the books seem far too humble for that. But they can work on multiple levels. The concept of fighting the fast to pursue the present is old as dirt, but stylized video-gamic violence puts a unique twist on things.

Word around the interwebs is that the final chapter in Scott's saga will be out on July 20th. It can't come soon enough.

The characters really sell the stories though. Scott is wonderfully flawed but totally endearing. Ramona...well actually, Ramona's character is kind of weak, but Wallace Wells (Scott's gay roomie/guru), Kim Pine (Scott's sardonic Ex-girlfriend/drummer) and the evil exes (psychic vegan douchebags, chubby half-ninja lesbians and surprisingly nice skateboarders turn superstars) are all incredible. They are people you want to spend time with. Honestly, I'm a little bit nervous about the movie's casting. While the visual style looks incredible, Cera seems a bit too wimpy and reserved to play Scott and I was also disappointed at the decision to go with a Caucasian Wallace Wells.  The side scrolling beat'em up based on the books however, looks incredible. It will be interesting to see how things turn out. Look for my review on the movie and game later this summer!

The Animatrix: Halo Edition!

I've never been a huge fan of the Halo series. I have thoroughly enjoyed each of the games in the main trilogy, passed on ODST and Wars, and while I am intrigued by Reach, I am not waiting on baited breath for its launch. Overall, the series is the poster child of super big-budget videogame design: enjoyable if not terribly innovative game design, pleasing music and artwork, and a conventional but incredibly detailed story. That same spirit pervades Halo: Legends, an anime styled collection of short films in the fine nerd art meets cross-marketing spirit of The Animatrix.

From Wikipedia

Given gamers' flagging interest in the Halo series after the conclusion of the main trilogy, and the Xbox 360's less than stellar sales in Japan, playing the animation compilation card is a predictable move for Microsoft. Fortunately, they spend the money to do the trend right, hiring well known anime studios like Bones, Production I.G. and Toei Animation to do what they do best. A pity the narratives don't measure up to the quality of the animation.

Looking to accessorize your new Mjolner armor? Nothing says "Death to the Covenant!" like a little teddy bear cellphone keychain . Pic was swiped from Kotaku.

To be perfectly honest, Legends is a largely forgettable experience. Origins parts I and II are a nice primer for Halo virgins and those who didn't pay close attention to the story in the games. It is also where Legends overlaps most prominently with the Animatrix template. It does for Halo what The Second Renaissance (also divided into parts one and two) did for The Matrix franchise. The Duel, which Mike Fahey hails (link under the pic) as "Far and away the best short of the DVD", is a unique and impressive visual experience that tells an utterly hackneyed tale of bushido honor and loyalty. I was similarly unimpressed with The Package, a CGI romp that shows the Spartans kicking ass with vehicles that didn't exist in the game, who save (spoiler alert?) some scientist  I was supposed to recognize but didn't.

Homecoming is perhaps the most promising story in the collection, giving a grim and fascinating glimpse at how the Spartan II recruiting campaign works. It isn't a cheerer upper, but few in the collection are. Take Prototype for example; a story about a squad leader with a gift for leading his squad to their doom. Contrary to Fahey, I rather liked that one. Again I disagree with Fahey on The Babysitter, which I felt was one of the best pieces in the package. While the Samus Aran style twist may not have blown any minds, it tells a unique tale about tensions within the ranks of the UNSC army and it comes to a legitimately poignant close.

No, that is not Master Chief, but yes, that thing does Shoop Whoops.

Not everything is all ass kicking and seriousness however. In fact, my personal favorite is "Odd One Out," a totally bizarre parody of the Halo Universe staring Spartan 1337. Yes, I know '1337 speak' is supposed to be old hat and unfunny by now, but it dovetails nicely with the feature's absurd nature which is an incredible refreshing presence in the somber halo universe. If it has been a while since you've watched something and had an emphatic "What the fuck?" at the end, you would be hard pressed to do better than this short, which features kung-fu fighting kids raised by an AI, dinosaurs, an idiot spartan hero, rainbow laser beams, and a motherly AI.

The tale confirmed a long held suspicion about Halo's universe: it would be infinitely more endearing and entertaining if it had a better sense of humor. Not the only humor of quick quips and snide remarks--don't get me wrong, I like quippery and snideness--but the ability to look absolutely foolish. So many new franchises, especially in the world of video gaming, are utterly desperate to be treated as grown-up art form. I can understand this desperation. I can even sympathize with it. Videogames are growing up and it's time people recognize it. That respect does not lie in melodrama, gore and swearing, but in the ability to laugh at ones self.

Dresden'd for Greatness

About two years ago, I was perusing the Sci-fi/Fantas section in a local bookstore when a description caught my eye; "Think Buffy the Vampire Slayer staring Phillip Marlowe." I may have been aware that the quoted book's title was Small Favor, though I didn't devote much attention to the cover, or who wrote it. The statement crackled with such potential that I snatched up the hardcover, and proceeded to the checkout, only dimly aware of the possibility that I was stumbling into the latest installment of a long running series. If somebody told me I was about to start on Book Ten of the Dresden Files, I may have tried to start at the beginning. A glad thing I didn't know any better. It was one of the best impulse buys of my life. Starting out late didn't hamper my enjoyment of the earlier books in the series, in fact, knowing what was in store made me more charitable toward Jim Butcher during his "warm up period."

The first two books are enjoyable enough, but things really start to pick up here.

Needless to say, the book delivered on the promise of Entertainment Weekly's one liner. The Dresden Files are a helluva lot of fun. The series isn't for everybody; grandma probably won't get it, and fans of "higher literature" including Tolkien devotees will probably look down upon it as low-brow genre fiction. I've even heard people, or at least internet people, refer to it as the Y-chromosomes' answer to Twilight. There is a shred of accuracy to this statement, insofar as the books are clearly written for a male audience, just as Twilight is obviously written for women folk, but the parallels stop there. Unlike Meyer, Butcher can write. The pacing is fast, the plotting starts out serviceable and gets increasingly tighter as the series continues, and the characters, while archetypal, are memorable and believably developed. And most importantly, Butcher doesn't take himself, his protagonist, or his series too seriously. On the contrary, self-deprecation runs high in the Dresden Files. Each book has an element or two which rib's the fantasy genre in one way or another, be by featuring a Billy Goat's Gruff as an antagonist, or a subplot involving a pack of teenage LARPers who gain the ability to turn into were-wolves.

If you do not find this even a little bit awesome, The Dresden Files is probably not for you. Also: seek medical attention.

Despite the fantastic trappings and occasional absurdity of the situations, the action in the Dresden Files is typically driven by very real issues; chiefly, responsibility and relationships. I don't mean the spider-man sort of responsibility about using your powers for good either. There is a bit of that here and there, but usually, the books are concerned with the responsibilities of us mere mortals: sticking to your principals as much as practicality will allow, asking for help despite putting other people out or putting them in danger. These are universals, even if they are broadly drawn, and the fantastic elements of the narrative make them far more interesting and enjoyable than they are in real life.

DOING IT WRONG

Not everything that is Dresden Files is golden however. The Syfy channel (or Sci-fi Channel back at the time of productions) mangles the original series something fierce. Some people liked it well enough, though it tried my tolerance with rather weak writing, and a host of totally unnecessary departures from the source material. Harry Dresden wears a leather jacket as opposed to his signature duster, negating the wild-westish aesthetic of the series. His wizard's staff is now a hockey stick; was this modernization supposed to make him seem hipper some how? Bob, the wisecracking, randy skull that serves as Harry's sidekick is anthropomorphized as a British dandy, and not the good kind like you want. Karen Murphy is now inexplicably a mother. Michael, and the rest of the carpenter family are completely absent. There's really only one way to sum up my feelings about these changes. But like I said, some people really dug it, and it's on Hulu, so you might as well give it a go if you're interested.

The books however, are definitely a must for modern fantasy fans. If you've completed your term at Hogwarts and are wondering where to head next, spending some time in the windy city with Harry Dresden would be a good call.

Dingos Frisky and Chicken Robotic

It's been quite a stretch since I've talked about animation, what with the abrupt, inexplicable suspension of my Japan's Finest! segment (don't worry, it will be back when you are least prepared for it) and it occurred to me that I never discussed any western animation, which is quite criminal really. Disney and The Simpsons are the obvious points of departure and for that reason, they will be ignored outright. Instead, I would like to discuss [adult swim], a network whose quirky line-up has found particular favor with the internet generations.


I was initially drawn to the network for it's anime, "dubbed down" though it was (quit scoffing you little weaboo brats! we didn't have torrents or crunchyroll.com back then) and I was only dimly aware of the network's original shows. It seems like most people felt the same, because the network really started to gain popularity when it became a refugee camp for prime time toons that more conservative networks had cancelled. Over the years, [as] has continued to develop it's own bizzaire brand of programming, and while most of it is incoherent, mind-scarring, crap, it has produced several gems. Among these, you are probably most familiar with Seth Green and Matthew Senreich's Emmy-winning stop-motion cavalcade...


In many ways, Robot Chicken is the natural evolution of Saturday Night Live. It's a sketch-based show, ripe with amusing nonsense and pop-cultural parodies, but faster paced, cheaper to produce, and funnier (by current comparison anyway) than it's predecessor. Fast and cheap may not necessarily sound like appealing adjectives, but if a sketch bombs in SNL, you get to wait five minutes for the damn thing to play out, while the average chicky robot sketch clocks in at around 30 seconds. You're on to the next joke before you can decide whether you liked the last one or not. I will concede that a certain degree of physical comedy is lost in the transition from actor to action figure, though (sadly) it's less than you might expect. Also, GI Joes typically have less trouble with the booze and drugs. Hey-oh!

It's also clear that Seth Green learned a thing or few from Seth McFarlan while working on Family Guy; specifically, how to play to your demographic with relevant pop-cultural references. Each episode of Robot Chicken balances it's satires of the now (300, Resident Evil, Mario Kart) with parodies of the late 80s and early 90s (Rainbow Bright, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Transformers). Even more importantly, Green and Senreich have a gift for locking on to the embarrassing or absurd aspect of those things you used to love and viciously ridiculing them. The internet generations live in a perpetual state of iteration; we constantly destroy who we are to become somebody new. Perpetually. Indefinitely.

This cynical "anti-nostalgia" was present from the founding of [adult swim] in programs like The Brak Show, Sealab 2021, and Harvey Birdman Attorney at Law, which revive and twist classic cartoons like so many sons wished back to life by a gnarled monkey paw (too obscure? ah what the hell, we'll go with it). These early efforts pale before The Venture Brothers, however.


The show is parody of Johnny Quest and the Hardy Boys. It's a simple premise, one that sounds like it could be very easily exhausted in a single sitting. Indeed, one of the episodes of Harvey Birdman Attorney at Law entails a custody battle between Race Bannon and Dr. Quest for Johnny and Hadji. It was a funny enough episode, but you knew every joke before it happened. Venture Brothers is admittedly starting to show some strain in its 4th season, but it had 3 seasons of solid gold and it's still mostly enjoyable because it simultaneously sustains the absurd dynamics of it's source material while mocking itself with modern cynicism.

The titular brothers, Hank and Dean Venture both behave as if they were still in cartoon's Hanna-Barbera era (lolrhyme). Hank is an impulsive idiot who idolizes batman and Dean is a neurotic simpering milquetoast. Their father, Rusty Venture, a former "boy adventurer" himself, is not only cirminally negligent but borderline evil, yet he is rendered oddly sympathetic through a severe inferiority complex and his general haplessness. Brock Samson, the family's former-secret agent bodyguard, strikes an endearing balance between housewife and homocidal maniac, and the cast is rounded out by a number of delightful supporting characters like Doctor Orpheus, Molotov Cocktease and Henry Killinger.

Two Big Dysfunctionals

Perhaps the most innovative twist of the venture universe is the institutional relationship between heroes and villains. The Guild of Calamitous Intent assigns each villain a hero or team to antagonize, or "arch", as an arch nemesis. Both hero and villain must adhere to a convoluted code of conduct in their mutual aggression that lampoons the hackneyed conventions of the good and evil dynamic. The absurdities of the code prevent either party from ever accomplishing anything, allowing the show to capture the mundane spirit of everyday frustrations while remaining true to the laughable formula of action-adventure cartoons. In fact, it's interesting to note that the aforementioned strain evident in the show's most recent season stems from the fact that static characters are finally starting to change. As much as the internet generation loves changing themselves, they tend to abhor change in the familiar.

The final show I'd like to talk about is a personal favorite.


How to describe Frisky Dingo? Well, to begin with, the title has nothing to do with the plot. Like Venture Bros, the absurdity of the good and evil dynamic is central to the show, and it is captured through the unusual relationship between Killface, a verbose hulking super villain trying to raise funds for his doomsday device (see below), and Xander Crews, a millionaire playboy/superhero/impossible douche bag.


To accommodate bankrupt attention-spans like mine, each episode is a bite-sized 15 minutes, but like bonbons, they are best enjoyed when many are consumed in a single sitting. For all it's apparent (and actual) nonsense, there are some impressive narrative circles and a lot of running gags to be enjoyed.

Bound for the Attic?

I fear Joss Whedon will soon be known as "That guy who makes shows that could have been great." Apparently, Fox is pulling Dollhouse from its November lineup in favor of House and Bones re-runs. Even more worrisome is the news that it will be aired in two hour blocks upon its return. For FOX, it is a product that has reached its expiration date, and now they desperately clear their stock before it stinks up the storehouse. Somehow this just doesn't cover it.


To be fair, Dollhouse didn't make things easy on itself. To begin with, the show is inherently hard to market. Describing it's premise is a task which is probably better left to Wikipedia, but essentially, it's about a shady organization (guess what it's called!) that rents out programmable people (Actives or Dolls as you please) to cater to the fantasies of the rich, well-connected and over-privileged. Our heroine, is Echo, a Doll played by Eliza Dushku who has a nasty knack for remembering the fabricated personalities and engagements she's supposed to forget.

At it's best, the show is an intelligent exploration of exploitation with some truly fresh sci-fi elements to drive the plot. At it's worse, it's an over-complicated version of The Pretender, at least from a weekly story-telling perspective: The early episodes of the first season saw Dushku trying on outlandish outfits and disposable personas to navigate canned TV perils. Guy who hires Dolls to live out his Most Dangerous Game fantasy? Check. Stuck-up super-star in need of a bodyguard and a lesson on being yourself? Check. Ironically, I think these throw-away scenarios might have been Whedon's attempt at simplifying things for general audiences. Unfortunately, they were still far too confusing for general audiences, and too stilted for his normally stalwart fanbase. By the time the show arrived at truly interesting questions and scenarios ("Can dead people's personalities be imprinted on Actives to get life after death?" "Yes!" "Wow! Altered Carbon much?") almost everybody had lost interest.

The very thing that makes the show so interesting is the thing that makes it so challenging to watch: It strains audiences' abilities to empathize. Whedon's casting and characterization is brilliant as always, but everyone has serious relatability issues. When unprogrammed, the Dolls are amusingly vapid and vulnerable, which is good for a few quick laughs, but quick to wear thin as well. Their programmed presonalities are engaging enough, but too short-lived to get attached. That being said, both Victor and Sierra, the other main dolls aside from Echo, are played brilliantly by Enver Gjokaj and Dichen Lachan, who you probably haven't even heard of before now.

The people who run the Dollhouse are also a real mixed bag. The Dollhouse's resident mind fabricator, Topher, is clever, nerdy and at times disarmingly vulnerable, but he's also obnoxiously conceited and detached from the people whose heads he fucks with for a living . British Boss Lady Adelle is deliciously dry and cold in a curiously endearing way, but she's also the head of an organization that rents people out for everything from sex, to manslaughter, to really dedicated daycare. Head of Security Boyd and disgraced FBI agent Paul Ballard bring some boy scoutly heroics to the mix, but both are administered in controlled doses to prevent them from stealing the show from Echo.

On the subject of Echo; I was skeptical at first as to whether Dushku would be able to carry the show, and while she has given a few trully exceptional performances (like her recent stint as a mother for rent) I'm still a bit ambivilant about her character. Some of her roles seem to bleed together in ways that make it difficult to tell if she is intentionally blending personas (which would be consistent with the shows plot) or if it's just less-than-stellar acting. Furthermore, while Echo's persistent memory affords her a more stable personality than the other dolls, the personality which emerges is that of a perfect doll, or actress. I'm a huge fan of metafiction and the ironies in play here are still a bit much for me to swallow.

Meet the Dollhouse! From left to right we have Ballard, Victor, Echo, Sierra, Topher, Adelle and Boyd. And yes, every doll is named after a character in the NATO alphabet. So far!

Given all it's inherent challenges, I was fairly certain that Whedon couldn't do anything to sell the show to the kind of viewership FOX was expecting without completely compromising its plot. But then a friend invited me to watch one of the unaired episodes exclusive to the Season 1 DVD, an episode titlted Epitaph One. From what I understand, it was intended to serve as the series de facto ending in case of cancellation, and it does a beautiful job of validating all the characters' grim predictions that the Dollhouse could very easily be the downfall of mankind. Those of you who have not seen the episode but intend to would do well to skip the next three paragraphs, and the general point of this post.

In the episode, we have fastfowarded ten years into the future, and find ourselves faced with a world that has been utterly ravaged by Dollhouse technology. Somehow imprinting signals were unleashed through cellphone signals: everybody who picked up was implanted with a homicidal Doll, and everybody who didn't suddenly found themselves facing off with said doll army. In a way, that scenario is simpler by far than the plot of the first season. You've got a nice, fairly clean binary opposition (the dolls and the people controlling them vs. the survivors), with plenty of opportunity to blur the lines and uncover the mystery of what happened.

If it was up to me to launch my brilliant new show, I'd open with this edgy ruined hell-scape to show people what was at stake, and fill in the blanks as I went along. I'm the sort that sits back and spends a good half hour speculating about stuff with friends and even I was blown away by how fucked up things were, though given the situation presented, the aftermath seemed completely appropriate. As for flashbacking, what better environment could a writer ask for than a world where you can download a person's entire being into a flashdrive?

There are obvious virtues to Whedon's subtler, more gradual approach to the story pf course. We grow increasingly attached to the show's characters as fissures creep through western society, right under our noses. We watch the technology push further and further, breaking boundaries that seem so innocent at the time. If anything, I am a sucker for brilliant plotting. But sadly, most folks aren't patient enough to watch a five year plan unfold. Hell, if Robot Chicken and Family Guy are any evidence, five minutes of continuity is pushing ones' luck. I love both those shows, don't get me wrong, but it saddens me to think that longer term, serialized story-telling is loosing it's place in television.

In conclusion, if you are a Browncoat who was turned off by Dollhouse's early offerings, come back and give it another look, preferably guided by a friend who knows the show well enough to take you through the good stuff. It may already be too late to launch a fan campaign strong enough to save the show, but trying never hurt anything. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to be late for my Treatment.

Rehabilitating House

House has been my favorite TV show since I started watching it in it's second season. I've since gone back and watched the first season on DVD, and it is one of the few shows on television of which I have seen every episode. Although smartest in the first three seasons, when its modern day Sherloc Doc's shock-value was still fresh, the show remains one of the sharpest things on TV, weathering both an unexpected depature and the 2007-8 writer's strike; a black maelstrom that profoundly fucked up other shows.



I cannot deny that the weekly medical mysteries have grown considerably less memorable and intriguing with each passing season, but the show soldiers on by virtue of its excellent plotting: Every season, the writers throw in a story developments or characters who complicate existing character relationships, tweaking the formula just enough to keep things interesting. Despite its callous exterior, House M.D. is at heart, a soap opera, and most of these story-arcs entail perilous romances between characters. Every once in a while, the show uses something other than sexual tension to reinvent itself however, producing some voraciously watchable story arcs. I favored the arcs featuring antagonists Michael Tritter and Vogler over the maybe romances with Cameron and Stacy. My personal favorite arc might have been the season 3 finale which saw House firing his entire team and segued into medical internship survivor.


In my humble yet paradoxically loud and insistent opinion, Season Five was the show's darkest hour. Wilson's drawn-out estrangement from House was unrealistically reconciled in a single episode, Kal Penn's sudden departure left a gaping wound in the team's dynamics, and sin of all sins, the writers pushed House' flirtatious non-relationship with Cuddy towards something approaching a legitimate romance. It's obvious that they'll wind up together in the end, but once we get there -surprise- it's the end! Or at least it'd better be. The last thing I want to see is House and Cuddy work through a season of romantic minutiae. Consequently I've come to regard the pairing as the speed-boat pulling House towards a shark jump. While it pains me to admit it, the show may already be air born.

Shore and Co. seem to be aware of this impending danger as they are taking a huge risk with this new season by having House's character explore the one area he never dared venture before: mental stability. The season premiere restored my faith in the show by managing to believably portray House's rehabilitation as a drug addict and a human being. Making a character do a one eighty like that after five years of story telling is a hell of a feat. Doing it in the space of two hours is nothing short of incredible. The premiere also introduced the clever, tremendously likable shrink Nolan and Lydia; an intriguing, alternative love interest for House, though we have been led to believe that she has already left his life forever. Given the show's maxim (Everybody Lies), I'm remaining skeptical, but I have some hope for House yet.

Still Lost Among the Dunes

Let's head back to Arrakis shall we? There was very little in the way of literary analysis on the first book of Dune, mostly because I have very little to say about it beyond "this book is so cool and you should read it." To address that deficiancy, this post will analyze both the second and third books in the original dune sextology, and it will also be absolutely saturated with spoilers, so consider yourself forewarned. Last I left off, I was broaching a discussion of Children of Dune, having completely skipped over the second book in the series, Dune Messiah. This was not intentional, though frankly there isn't much to say about the second novel.

Unlike Star Wars, Indiana Jones and Batman, Dune lost some of it's rich complexity when translated to Lego.

I read Dune Messiah in the fall of last year, just a couple months after reading Dune, and it struck me as little more than an extended epilogue to the story which hand already unfolded. It didn't introduce any terribly compelling new characters or convincing threats (Sorry Scytale, you just aren't as cool as your name suggests). Herbert did introduce Ghola cloning technology to the series, but left the concept rather under-explored. That being said, the story does bring added closure to the original, and it brings it very well, beggining with the backlash to Paul's assendency and continuing on to his tragic fate.


I say Children of Dune is a proper sequel, because it runs counter to the first two books in almost every way. The energy dedicated to exploring Paul's ability to predict the future has been redistributed to his children's genetic total recall. Paul's heroic decision to die a mortal death and avert intergalactic Jihad is reconstrued as an act of selfish cowardice. It is revealed that Paul didn't even die at all when he walked off into the desert. Even though the plot twist initially excited me, (for it's hard not to get excited about characters coming back from the dead), I was it left me sad later on, because it's the sort of inorganic story telling Herbert never resorted to in his earlier novels. Admittedly, he does soften the effect of this revelation by repeatedly foreshadowing it and repeatedly stressing that Paul has become a different character, but it still feels like some sort of cheap trick.


Sadly, this is not the most preposterous plot point in Children of Dune. Characters who have been well established as intelligent and wise suddenly suffer from attacks of idiocy, only to display mind boggling insight moments later. Lady Jessica is a prime example. Even though Leto II (Paul's son and the new protagonist) makes her look like an idiot fool in conversation, she somehow mannaged to see past his elaborate feign death and trap him in the desert, even though he is presient and she is not. More messily developed characters like Alia and Duncan (or the Ghola formerly known as Hayt) spiral out of control destroying the few consistent threads of personality which had been previously established. These gaping holes in logic and continuity detract from the wonderfully density Herbert's world displayed in the first book. Even though we have lots of plots twisting around eachother and tangling together like sound trout, they never quite form a worm, or a god-emperor for that matter.

Fortunately, Herbert's philosophical musings remain poetic and potent, and conceptually he continues to engage. I resonate with the book's central message, assuming I correctly understand it to be the sentiment that people are far too eager to submit themselves to the will of heredity. At the same time the Golden Path, Leto II's infallible plan to ensure the survival of the human race, strikes me as an inherently evil concept because it is contingent upon the idea that man must submit to the rule of a single godly tyrant. Indeed, Paul deliberately avoided such a path in the first book for the same reason. Leto denounces this is cowardice, since Paul created a universe that looked for divine justice by becoming a messiah, only to deprive it of such guidence. While I'm willing to concede that Paul's suicide may not have been the best decision for his empire, Leto never provides a convincing explanation as to why tyranny is a better alternative.

In fact, the end of Children of Dune serves as a dark reflection of the original novel's conclusion; the main character storms into his enemies lair, laying waste to all resistance, and coerces the survivors into submission, though for some reason when Leto did it, I felt like evil had won. I think my primariy problem is a lack of motivation. Paul was finally attaining retribution against the Harkonens who had killed his father and brutalized the people of Arrakis, while Leto (who didn't feel human even before merging with worms) is simply killing his demented aunt. The fact that he claimed his sister for a wife and whored her out to his cousin doesn't sit well with me either.

On the pluse side, Leto is primed to be a brilliant villian in God Emperor of Dune, though I think it will be a good long while before I head back to Arrakis.

How d'ya like me now Lich?

This post ended up being more of a comparison piece than I intended, contrasting the game design philosophies of WoW and EverQuest but I do get to WoTLK eventually. So dive in, the text is deep.

My first experiences in online gaming were with Sony’s EverQuest just after it had launched Ruins of Kunark, the game’s first expansion pack. I was exhilarated by the rich potential the game represented, but repeatedly heartbroken as I attempted wring it from the actual product. Despite the title’s implied promise, it was incredibly difficult to find quests. I knew they existed through snippets from the general chat, and high level characters who ran around wearing their rewards, but they always seemed to lay somewhere just beyond the edge of my periphery. Whenever I found a quest giver, the chain was either broken, restricted to a specific class/race/deity, or simply not worth the effort. The mechanics of the game were also viciously punitive. I spent the vast majority of my early playtime corpse running; an activity every ounce as unpleasant as it sounds. There was also a period where, if you could not retrieve your body within a certain time limit, the game would delete your body and everything you were carrying on it, leading to many tearful nights where I struggled to retrieve my mangled corpse from some wretched pit. Since you had no armor or items, subsequent deaths were almost inevitable, and each one produced another decoy which would frustrate your search for the original. Amusing in hindsight. In practice? Not so much. As with most things massive, multiplayer and online, the social component was the core appeal. I enjoyed wandering around the tunnel in Eastern Commons where high level characters would gather to barter, and I found a limited sense of belonging in conversation with other introverted kids. Naturally, that all went to hell when Sony launched Shadows of Luclin, the game’s infamous third expansion. The organic barter economy was abandoned in favor of a bazaar system which was broken at launch and a graphics ‘upgrade’ that replaced the game’s endearingly blocky avatars with some of the most hideous character models the world will ever witness. The increased hardware requirements caused a lot of players to leave, exacerbating the exodus to other MMO’s, which the update was designed to forestall. Perhaps this is the best way to convey the impossible lameness that was Shadows of Luclin.

Yet nearly a decade later, EverQuest is still soldiering on, having launched its fifteenth expansion pack last November (no link, the almighty wikipedia doesn't even acknowledge its existence). One thing which has certainly helped the game’s longevity is that Sony learned its lesson with Shadows of Luclin and has not substantially changed the games hardware requirements since. But one has to wonder who is still playing EQ, to say nothing of why. It is tempting to conclude that after years of abuse and torment, the dark forces at SOE have broken something inside their customers, convincing them that being beaten is a privilege, and that the willingness to withstand such treatment is a desirable trait called “Hardcoredness.” I exaggerate, especially considering how much crueler Ultima Online was, and the game did make some genuine improvements over the years. I tenuously continued to play until EQ’s fifth expansion, Legacy of Ykesha, when Sony convinced me to quit in earnest by making Frogloks into a godly playable race. Not only did this break the balance of the game, it dealt a fatal blow to the games narrative, which was already laughable, even to my fifteen year old sensibilities. For those of you who play WoW, an approximate equivalent would be if Blizzard suddenly decided to make Murlocs into a playable hero-race in the next expansion. Actually, knowing their sense of humor, it’s a prospect which seems frighteningly plausible.

When I started playing World of Warcraft in 2004, I felt like a third world refugee, delighted and mystified by conveniences others took for granted: Quests clearly displayed by bright gold exclamation points hanging over character heads and on an ever present GPS-like minimap, chairs your character could actually sit in, and most importantly of all, dying was not a tremendous ordeal. It was even kind of cool, with the grayed out color pallet and your ghost character’s ability to run on water. The starting zones are very welcoming, abundant with easy tutorial-like quests that yield the necessary equipment for players to progress. Rather than making the game rewarding by building a system so unforgiving that any degree of success feels like an achievement, Blizzard presents players with a steady stream of new items and spells, while making the process as convenient as possible, even to the point of being nonsensical at times (the same size of armor and weapons fit every race of character), yet for some reason, people find this idealized un-sense more appealing than the alternative. It's almost like they play video games to escape reality's inconveniences.

Yet these are mere trimmings. The greatest appeal of WoW’s gameplay is that each class presents players with a unique, but versatile combat system while remaining relatively balanced in power. Even though EQ’s character creation system presents players with more classes to choose from, controlling them felt identical. Worst of all, some classes, like healers, are not viable for solo-play later on, and some race and class combinations will end up being fundamentally weaker than others. In WoW, a character’s race is mostly cosmetic, and any available class/race combination is viable. Also, while each class has distinct gameplay mechanics and a specific role to fulfill in parties, they can be adapted to fit whatever play style you prefer (solo questing, PVP, or dungeon raiding). I don’t mean to say WoW is perfectly balanced. Blizzard constantly has to tweak the classes to keep them on even footing. My main character is a paladin, and for a long time Blizzard didn’t really know how to make the class work. Now my patience has been rewarded with godliness.

Yet while the classes are relatively even in power to one another, level based elitism lingers, though I suspect that’s a problem MMORPGs will never be free from. Since the game system is based on numerical levels of power, power based stratification and discrimination are inevitable. Even if you’re just in it for the story, you won’t be able to debate your way into a cool dungeon if you can’t fight its mobs yet. That part of the universe is closed to you until you can pay your dues in the currency of experience, and graduate to a new grade in ass kicking. But Blizzard is does its best to allow average customers to get the most out of a subscription, which I believe is a noble endeavor.

Whenever such changes are made however, the elite players will start in with the “When I was your level I had to fight both ways through a dungeon, debuffed and I learned to like it!” speeches. It’s reasonable to want your hard work to amount to something, but it always strikes me as strange when people gauge the value of their leisure activities in terms of quantifiable work.Then again, where the game’s first expansion, The Burning Crusade, was concerned, they had a right to grouse. Epic gear people spent months questing for in the original game was rendered obsolete by basic equipment in the expansion. The fairly even correlation between effort and rewards people had come to expect from the game was broken. Most people didn’t complain too bitterly, since they were getting superior gear, and I was surprised by how little bitching actually occurred.

Another detrimental change that occurred during the big BC shift, was that Blizzard suddenly realized just how marketable their universe was. This resulting ‘growth’ subjected their lore to the same sort of weary dissolution which plagues other long running bodies of fiction: stories rife with nonesensical alliances and ret-conned deaths. While EQ had to weave its fantasy world from whole cloth, the original trilogy of Warcraft strategy games provided Blizzard with recognizable characters, locations, and a compelling story to build on; yet that considerable advantage had become a liability as fans were left to argue what canonical Warcraft should resemble. One could make a strong argument that this is the inevitable fate of a fiction opened up to its loving public: “the tragedy of the creative commons” so to speak.

I like to think that there is genuine narrative potential for MMOs however, and Wrath of the Lich King has done a lot to keep my optimism alive. The earliest teaser had a strong narrative vibe, which only grew stronger in CGI movie, but I was skeptical until I heard about the pre-launch event. Capital cities, thought of as universal safe havens, were over-run with throngs of undead that would infect players and force them to turn against other players, even on non-pvp servers. It was a ballsy move met with a harsh outcry and more than a couple cancellations, but it also showed that Blizzard is serious about telling a story in their world. I must confess I don’t know how bad the zombiefest was, since I was taking a break from the game. Such rest periods are vital, lest you be drawn too deeply into the virtual world and lost to the real one. The quest chain which introduces the much talked about Death Knight “hero class,” is also decidedly story driven. Arthas also frequently pops up in Northrend, establishing him as a more imminent threat than Illidan was in TBC.

In addition to the buffed storytelling, the increase in item power feels much more natural than it was in the crusade and Blizzard has continued to promote accessibility by giving all dungeons and raids a five-player mode, so you can tackle Icecrown Citadel (when it opens) without finding twenty other people who are free, well equipped and competent. The level design is much more detailed and varied than it was in burning crusade as well, and there are some truly beautiful environments to explore. Even the music is stellar. If you’ve tried WoW, and it didn't tickle you, Lich King won’t change your mind. But if you’ve never played, now would be a great time to take a stab at it.