Above and Beyond

Hello dear readers. I apologize for the lack of posts last month. For the past fifteen years, I have been that guy who is "writing a novel," but since December I have actually been doing it. For real this time, and I am over 120 pages deep in it. Balancing that with work and a social life has left me with very little time for blogging. I will do my best to have at least one of these a month, but my first loyalty is to fiction. 

I also needed some time to digest one of the best videogames I have ever played. Bioshock Infinite is the best game I played since Braid. For my personal tastes, it may even be better. You can read most of this article without suffering any grave spoilers, and I will give you plenty of warning before I get to the big reveals, but you would be well-served to play it now if you haven't.

I agree that Elizabeth would have been a better choice for the cover, but I don't doubt that they will sell more games by featuring Booker. Just the world we live in.

I would like to begin by talking about the characters because they are so damn beautiful. Almost every video game has you play as a guy who can (and must) slaughter a hundred people before breakfast. Master Chief. Nathan Drake. Hell even Link and Mario. The weird, constant incongruity though, is that these are all supposedly "good guys." Bioshock Infinite takes this trope to task and imagines what that guy would be like in real life. Meet Booker DeWitt. Veteran of both Wounded Knee and the Boxer Rebellion, and Pinkerton strikebreaker. The guy is quite literally, a career murderer, but historically perfect for the 1912 setting. He has a gruff, down-to-business personality to match his bloody past and you would be inclined to think that would make the game relentlessly grim.


You'd be right, if the player you controlled was actually the main character. But the soul of this game is the woman you must rescue: Elizabeth. Many people, including the boys of Penny-Arcade, have likened her to a Disney Princess. Belle specifically. And it is an apt comparison, because she is plucky, beautiful, bookish and occasionally headstrong. But those qualities aren't forced on you. She does not come across as saccharine or hapless like so many Damsels from the House of Mouse. This is primarily achieved through her support role: in combat, she can rip tears into alternate realities that benefit her and Booker. She can pick locks and solve coded ciphers for you. And you never actually have to worry about escorting her or guarding her in combat because she's invulnerable, like Alex from Half-Life.

There are other characters. The Lutece siblings, who randomly appear throughout the story have the eccentricity of Portal's GLaDOS, but the unsettling otherworldly quality of Half-Life's G-man. There is the bloodthirsty leader of the vox populi rebellion Daisy Fitzroy. And there is the villainous, charismatic leader of the floating city Columbia,  Father Zachary Comstock. As with the audio files found throughout Rapture in the original Bioshock, these characters are developed steadily through found footage. And they are the most complex characters you will find in any video game to date.

The floating city of Columbia is a character itself as well. The magical powers you gain (called Vigors instead of Plasmids, and powered by Salts instead of Eve) do not dovetail with the game world's central thesis quite as well as they did in Bioshock, but I found the game's tale of racism and zealotry more compelling than the original games examination of Objectivism. People said the game would deal with racism, and I was skeptical, suspecting it would do a mild, toned-down presentation of racism, but it is presented in a refreshingly raw and ugly way that evokes genuine disgust on behalf of the gamer. Sadly the game does not allow you to deal with the issue in a meaningful way, save for one choice near the beginning. Ultimately, you do feel like you are in a racist theme park as opposed to an actual utopia, but Columbia still felt more alive to me than Rapture did.

But what of the actual gameplay? I am a big fan of combat in the Bioshock franchise. The addition of a recharging shield has been derided by a few, but I like the give-and-take rhythm it affords fights. I've talked about videogame violence as a canvas for creativity before, and this is a game that really lets you paint. The mix of magic, firearms, melee attacks and environmental features first introduced by Bioshock is still satisfying, but Infinite spices things up by letting you zip around on skylines and using Elizabeth's dimensional tear powers to alter the world you fight in on the fly. This is a beautiful mechanic that simultaneously develops the game's core concept and spices up fights. The depth available in any given encounter makes Halo's "Holy Trinity of Guns, Melee and Grenades look positively quaint, and Halo has much more variety than most of the shooters out there. That said, it is very easy to understand why 2K canned Infinite's multiplayer. Trying to realistically balance a system like this, especially using the bog-standard COD unlockables and load-out system would be a nightmare. Interestingly, the only FPS that gives Infinite any serious competition is also single-player only: Dishonored. Admittedly, The tone of the two games couldn't be more different, with Dishonored focusing on melee, stealth and careful resource management, while Infinite is pure, bombastic, cartoonish mayhem.

There are so many other little details to talk about. The way buildings bob in the air. The numerous corners, stuffed with well-hidden secrets that reward thorough investigation. Infinite also does ingenious and devious things with anachronistic music. You will hear 1912 versions of songs from the future. Little haunting whispers reminding you that the game's multiverse is coming apart at the seams.

Know this: Infinite's ending is the most satisfying, emotionally gripping and maturely written of any videogame I have played to date. Yes, including Braid. Including any Final Fantasy you can think of and all the Zeldas put together. The final twist not only subverts your expectations and understanding of the overall quest, but transforms your appreciation of specific moments throughout the game. It the videogame equivalent of a movie like Memento, or Inception, where you want to watch it again just to pick up on all the subtle details you missed. So before you read any further, go buy the game and beat it. I'll wait here. Trust me, you don't want this spoiled.



SPOILERS FOLLOW. GO BEAT THE GAME FIRST. SERIOUSLY.



Are we good? Did you finish it? Amazing right! It blew my mind, even though I guessed pretty early on that Elizabeth might be Booker's daughter. Let's talk about that first before I move on to the bigger reveal. As I mentioned, Elizabeth is incredibly charming. Like a Disney Princess, she was made to make you fall in love with her, and throughout the game, the player's almost inevitable attraction to her is at odds with Booker's gruffness and distance. He grows fonder of her as the game continues, and you are left wondering if he is falling for her too. But instead of giving you the obvious, magical castle ending, you find out she is his daughter. And you also find out that you are your own greatest enemy. The dashing rogue, Booker DeWitt is also the heinously racist religious zealot, Father Comstock.

Simply spelled out like that, the ending sounds lame. So does the entire plot of Memento, but the game, like that movie, is masterfully executed. It gives you ample evidence to guess the truth ahead of time--in fact, in many ways it is obvious, and the only logical explanation for the way things are. But it still manages to sneak up on you. And the whole yarn is undone by the smallest plot thread: a severed pinky finger. Think back to the moment at the hall of heroes, where you are confronting Slate. Isn't it odd that Slate and Booker are war buddies, even though Slate looks as old as Comstock? Isn't it odd that Comstock proclaims himself the hero of all these encounters?  The game gives you a hint that misleads you.You think, maybe Comstock was Booker's commanding officer, never suspecting that they are the same man.

Bioshock Infinite is not perfect, but it is the most brilliant title I've played in a long time.

Comics Binge

I have been on a comics binge lately. I would blame it all on a co-worker of mine, but she was just a catalyst. My preferred natural state is to be ingesting comics constantly; a homeostatic norm that was interrupted first by graduate school, and later by house-hunting, and finally by wedding planning. Now that all those things have been taken care of, I am going through several books a week. Here are a few of the series I've been reading.

Mind the Gap: A supernatural psychological thriller about a young woman caught in a coma. The writing is pretty sharp, but the plotting and pacing are a little too soapy for my tastes. Also has a ton of musical references I don't get. Still, it gets mad props for having a cast of strong female characters who push the story forward.

These covers are all kinds of awesome.

Manhattan Projects: This one is a  pulpy alternative history where the Manhattan Project is just a cover for numerous top secret pulpy experiments. The cast consists of scientific giants like Oppenheimer, Feynman and Einstein, but each has been re-imagined as a fucked-up evil genius/mad scientist. The books are very entertaining, featuring frequent fights with robots, nazis, aliens, death buddhists, etc. but they aren't very endearing. I find it hard to sympathize with a cast of full-on villains. Also, while the minimalist covers are awesome, I'm not not a big fan of the actual art, with lines that feel messy and characters the seem intentionally ugly. I do like how they play with color and highlighting though.

Captain Marvel (By Kelly Sue DeConnick): This is Marvel's Captain Marvel. More specifically, it is Carol Danvers, formally known as Ms. Marvel and about a half a dozen other monikers. I read the first trade's worth of this comic and found it to be smartly written and beautifully drawn. I'm really not a big fan of time-travel narratives, but despite that, I had a pretty good time. Again, it gets major points for intelligent, powerful and believably flawed female characters.

Astro City: I really like the concept behind these comics; let's show a superhero universe from the perspectives of petty crooks, reporters and other average Joes. Let's explore who inhabits the world of a superhero, other than the superheroes themselves. It's right up my alley. Unfortunately, the characters introduced felt oddly flat, and the stories felt very average. We don't get to spend time to many of the characters introduced, which may account for part of the problem, but in general the plots were just unsurprising. Easier to put down than it should be.

Kind of a boring cover for a very vibrant and lively book.

Jim Henson's Tale of Sand: As you may expect, this tale from the master of muppets is kind of whacky. There is an interesting story behind the story here as well. It started out as a screenplay Jim wrote that never got made because it was too bizarre for the studio's tastes. After languishing for years, it finally got picked up and made into a graphic novel. Crisp art makes all the absurdity feel very real and enjoyable. There isn't much in the way of dialog of characterization, but delightfully zany stuff keeps happening.

Dames in the Atomic Age: A locally-produced book that is quite charming, about a detective and his best friend (a boxer) caught up in a crazy pulp sci-fi universe. Great use of 40's and 50's slang. This book is an odd counter point to Manhattan Projects, as almost all the protagonists are likable, but the stories don't feel as novel. You burn through a lot of tropes, but at the end of the day, the solutions are pretty predictable.

Gaiman's not at the very top of his game here, 

but it's still well-worth a read.

Neil Gaiman's Book's of Magic: Neil Gaiman's story about Tim Hunter; a young boy with the potential become the greatest wizard the world has ever known. He is tutored by a bunch of trench coat wearing magi and occultists, including John "Hellblazer" Constantine. There are some similarities to Harry Potter, but unlike Harry Potter, Tim Hunter doesn''t do much of anything until the very end. He's there along for the ride, occasionally making kid-like noises and simple observations. The message about the dangers of magic, and the supernatural cattle-call of DC characters is diverting, but ultimately the book is a bit of a letdown.

My favorite series of all the ones I've started reading recently is Locke & Key, but that really deserves a post of its own, and it is coming, I promise! Have to finish another couple volumes first, though. I also recently splurged on Runaways volumes 1-9, so expect some verbiage on that relatively soon.

A Hundred Words on Hundreds

2013 GotY? Yeah right. Buy game anyway. Play game. Touchscreen gaming touchstone. Smart mechanics for smartphones. Touch circles, grow to 100. Red circle touching others = death. New mechanics as you go. May actually be GotY.

Simple aesthetic. Bold colors. 

A designer’s wet dream.

Kind of easy. Play more. Some tricky ones. Play more. Getting devious. Play more. How is this one possible? Play more. Every victory is a sweet triumph. Play more…

Soothing music does wonders for frustration. 
Sedate sounds for tense play.

There are also riddles. What the hell do they mean? Doesn't matter. Go play it.

A Hot Mess

If we're friends on Steam, (and if we're not, add me; I'm Sarcasmancer there too,) you may have noticed that I've been playing a lot of Hotline Miami lately. Even more than Dishonored, which I raved about not two weeks ago. There's a couple reasons for that. Primarily, I have the attention span of an over-caffeinated hummingbird. Secondarily, I've gotten very serious about a secret writing project that doesn't leave me much time for marathon gaming sessions, and this game is well-suited for shorter play. And finally, it is bloody good.

A vibrant cover that gives you a pretty good idea of what you're in for.

Hotline Miami is what might happen if Tarantino decided to design, write and direct a videogame after dropping acid. Various voices on the internet have whispered that Drive is a more prominent influence, but I haven't seen the film, so I can't really speak on that connection. The game is set in the late 80s of Miami, where you play as a letterman jacket-wearing lowlife, who must don animal masks and murder buildings full of other murderers at the behest of cryptic messages on your answering machine.

Now, in the context of videogames, mass murder isn't really that shocking.  It's pedestrian in fact. From GTA to Ratchet and Clank you mow down enemies by the dozen. Even Nintendo, the Disney of entertainment software, has you kill hundreds of enemies in a given playthrough of Zelda, Mario or even Kirby. What's shocking about Hotline Miami is the messy way those deaths are handled. In fact, the entire game is messy on several levels, but remarkably clean where it counts.

The game has an intentionally pixelated aesthetic that invokes an era of lesser graphical fidelity. This was a brilliant artistic decision. It echoes the style of videogames of the late 80s setting, it is an aesthetic that is technically and economically feasible for an independent developer and most importantly, it insulates the player from the game's extreme violence with a much-needed level of abstraction.

And that is the second way it is messy. You will see pixelated blood, guts and bits of brain. Occasionally an enemy will drag himself across the ground before dying. You will bludgeon, slash and shoot gangsters with a huge array of melee weapons, sporting goods, firearms and power tools. In this respect, it is undeniably similar to Rockstar's infamous Manhunt series; games that are literally styled after snuff films.

Manhunt however, is vividly rendered in 3D without any stylistic buffer and I don't play it for the same reason I don't watch torture porn: it disgusts me. I don't believe the violence will make rational people into monsters, but there isn't enough art and imagination there to make the experience feel rewarding instead of gross. Admittedly, Hotline Miami sits on the ledge of my limits.

So why play it? Like Super Meat Boy, it pairs brutally unforgiving difficulty with instant 1-button resurrection that gets you back into the action in seconds. You will die a lot. If you are like me, you will die an embarrassing amount. Most people can complete all 15 missions about 6 hours or so, but I think I've already clocked in twice that much time, and I still have a couple levels left.  Dying so much and resurrecting so easily allows you to see past the game's messy wrapper and appreciate its incredibly refined core-system: It is a puzzle game masquerading as an action game.

Each mission is broken up into a series of encounters which boil down to ridiculous runs of skillful twitch reflexes and the dumbest of dumb luck, or meticulously choreographed strategy and cheap tricks that exploit the predictable enemies. In most missions, you will do a mix of both. And the sense of relief and triumph you feel when you've completely cleared a level is enormous. I like this game better than Meat Boy, because while it demands excellence, it also indulges player improvisation to a greater degree. You have a variety of animal masks you can wear, which will subtly alter your character's abilities, and you also have a ridiculously large arsenal to draw from for your dark tasks. No two plays are alike, even when you play the same mission over for a higher score.

The last way in which the game is messy is the story. Your involvement with the voices on the answering machine are left open to interpretation, and these already-murky waters are further muddled by both surreal dream sequences and waking hallucinations. Toward the end of the game, you encounter talking corpses (who are apparently only there to tell you to fuck off), and there is also a last-minute change in protagonists. There is also a surprising moment of vulnerability early on though, when you rescue a girl from one of your crime scenes, and allow her to live in your apartment. Spoiler Alert: that doesn't end well. Those moments suggest the game is trying to call itself out, and point out just how screwed up this all is, but it never really coalesces into anything meaningful, because you are back on the mandatory murder train in seconds. It gets points for self-awareness, but loses some for failing to make a salient point. Also, the secret ending you can unlock provides a psuedo-political explanation that comes from far left field and fails to add any real depth to the experience. That said, it does raise questions and incite emotional reactions in the player, which is more than you can say for a lot of AAA titles out there.

Another area where the game excels is in the soundtrack. Each song alternates between pleasantly catchy and grating, so it pretty much captures the 80s perfectly. The mission music is high energy and frenetic, like the gameplay. The track that plays after each mission sounds like the formic ideal of a supermarket's ambiance filtered through a game console. And the song that blares in your apartment after every mission manages to be soothing and laid back, despite, you know, the blaring.

So would I recommend Hotline Miami? Kids obviously shouldn't be allowed anywhere near it. And neither should immature adults (particularly political alarmists who will refuse to look past the blood). Even with those caveats, I can't recommend it to general audiences, not because the game is dangerous, or because I believe it will make people more dangerous than they already are, but because most people don't have the masochistic mentality of an old school gamer. It takes a special kind of person to enjoy dying 20 times in a single firefight. If that sounds like you though, and you're looking for an experience that is both focused and messy, I can't recommend it highly enough.

Gunning Down Gangster Squad

When I told a friend I was heading to a screening of Gangster Squad last night, he apologized and wished me the best of luck. His concern was understandable given the critical consensus, and while I had planned on avoiding any kind of reviews prior to viewing, I had a good time with my expectations moderated. Faint praise, I know, but the bottom line is you can afford to give this one a pass, especially amidst Oscar season. The movie does have a few fun moments though, and it is worth a casual viewing on TV or Netflix (if it ever gets there).

The poster, like the rest of the movie, is passable.

I was an almost embarrassingly huge fan of Zombieland, director Ruben Fleischer's main claim to fame, but he was a poor choice here. While he has a gift for portraying both violence and comedy, he also has a very modern and lighthearted style that is ill-suited for a more serious period piece. The film feels like several different movies at different times, and never really forms a consistent identity. The best thing I can say about Gangster Squad is that it does not try to be L.A. Confidential, or anything else by James Elroy. That off-the-mark comparison is inevitable though, given the film's setting and subject matter.

Another reason I wanted to see the movie was the cast. Sean Penn gives a passionate performance, but that is also a mixed blessing. He portrays Mickey Cohen with such menacing intensity that it has a larger-than-life quality to it. Like Fleischer's direction, it flirts with full-on parody, but doesn't quite get there. A script with Disney-villain characterization doesn't help matters. Cohen unceremoniously kills off his subordinates, periodically explodes with rage, and makes a bunch of speeches that only serve to emphasize how despicable he is.

Josh Brolin gives a solid performance for a boring lead character: Sergeant John O'Mara. You've seen this soldier-turned-cop a hundred times before, and his iteration isn't written to be that likable. People repeatedly call him an honest cop and say he's got a good heart, but I think his dismal self-assessment as a retired soldier who doesn't know how to do anything but fight is far more accurate. He's almost as brutal as Cohen, and even more bullheaded.

Ryan Gosling's character, Jerry Wooters, is more likable and the other characters assess him far more accurately. One of the best lines in the movie is, "He's got a smart mouth but he's dumb where it counts." Emma Stone is wasted on a script that delegates her as mere eye-candy, though she does look stunning and her wardrobe will make you weep for what has become of women's fashion. Stone and Gosling comprise the star-crossed lovers of the film, though they don't really seem to sizzle in this movie, which is crazy because they were supposed to be stupid-good together in Crazy Stupid Love.

While the rest of the titular Gangster Squad is likable, nobody else in the supporting cast really gives a stand out performance. Again, I think a bad script is to blame. For every good line, there are at least five lazy cliches and trite observations. For every fresh scene, there are three you have seen before.

It seems like the stars just aren't right for Gangster Squad. It had a rough road to the silver screen too. After the Aurora massacre happened, Warner Bros. pulled the trailers and pushed back the premiere to re-shoot a gunfight that was originally supposed to occur in a movie theater. It was a compassionate gesture that will go completely unrecognized in the wake of Sandy Hook, with Washington and every media outlet imaginable blaming these atrocities on video games and Hollywood instead of a culture that systematically ignores mental illness and viciously preserves easy access to assault rifles. But that's an issue for another post.

Bloodiest Fun in The South

I'm hard-pressed to think of a film that has been more poorly suited for a Christmas Day release than Django Unchained. It's a modern day exploitation film about one of the United States' most shameful periods of history with a central theme of vengeance, whose spree of gleeful violence is punctuated by scenes of truly sickening brutality. In other words, Quentin Tarantino is square in his comfort zone making damn sure you never find yours. But it's a hell of a lot of fun despite how hard it can be to watch.

One of the weaker posters for the movie. Sit tight and I'll find a cooler one...

Most of Tarantino's films are Westerns (you could even make the case that they all are), but Django wears the genre most ostentatiously. The titular character is a reference to a Franco Nero film that is famous for both its extreme violence, and the host of unofficial sequels it spawned. 

Just as Inglorious Basterds was a dark, fairy tale re-imagining of World War II, Django is a dark fairy tale about the pre-Civil War South. The eponymous hero (Jamie Foxx) is a slave liberated by Doctor Schultz (Christoph Waltz), a German dentist turned bounty-hunter. Django displays a prodigious talent for killing people and declares that his ultimate goal is to reunite with his wife Brunhilde. Schultz, touched by the parallels between Django and the German folk hero Seigfried (who also set out to rescue a Brunhilde), takes Django on as his partner. While Schultz has no problem killing people, even in front of their own children, he finds the institution of slavery appalling and morally reprehensible; the obvious implication being that the serial slaughter of "bad guys" is preferential to slavery.

This one is more abstract, but I really liked the look of it.

It's a position you can't help but sympathize with when you are introduced to plantation owner and mandigo fighting enthusiast, Calvin J. Candie (Leonardo DiCaprio). This is one of DiCaprio's finest performances, and far and away his most chilling. Candie's mix of abject cruelty, vapid dandyism and slimy smugness easily makes him the most loathsome villain of 2012. But what is mandigo fighting you ask? It is a (fictitious) practice where plantation owners pit their male slaves against each other in fights to the death. One would think that slavery held enough actual horrors to furnish an exploitation flick, even one as lengthy and exaggerated as Django. But, the exploitation film Mandingo happens to be one of Tarantino's favorites, and he's always been a sucker for self-indulgent cinematic references. And if you are going to this movie for historical accuracy, or an enlightened discourse on the evils of slavery, you are watching for the wrong fucking reasons.  

Although, like all of Taratino's stuff, there were moments where I wondered if there was a right reason to watch, and what my choice of movie said about me as a person. In a pivotal scene, DiCaprio actually slices his hand on a crushed cordial glass, but rather than cutting the scene to get a bandage, he continues on in-character and wipes his real bleeding palm on Kerry Washington's face without her prior knowledge or consent. It was the most disturbing thing I've seen at the movies in the past year, and it makes you wonder how much of this is actually making an artistic point versus trying to shock and alienate the audience.

I think this one is fan-made, but it is my favorite. 

This raw intensity is oddly juxtaposed against the film's gunfights, which come off as comical by comparison, with full-on Spaghetti Western blood geysers erupting from each felled foe. Despite that disparity, I had more fun with Django than I did with Basterds, because it felt like a much more focused experience. Ironically, my favorite Tarantino flick is still Pulp Fiction, which is far more surreal and discordant than either of these two historical exploitation fairy tales, though I'll admit my personal nostalgia for that film is a big, (and at this point, unassailable) factor.  The thing I like about all of Tarantino movies, aside from the dialog and corny-yet-undeniably-cool style, is that they are equally divorced from formulaic, impotent Hollywood blockbusters and overwrought, pompous Oscar-bait. If you ail from either, Django is an antidote to both. 

On Revenge and Fantasy Whales

I've yet to get my pistol belt in Assassin's Creed III but I have stopped playing it for the time being, partially because I realized how sad that was after writing about it, but mostly because another game has utterly outclassed it. If you've guessed I'm talking about Dishonored, give yourself a little pat on the back.

Corvo's creepy-ass mask gives you a good idea of the game's tone. 

Like that other title, the plot revolves around assassination. And once again, the primary personal motivator is revenge; I suspect because narratively-speaking, it's actually quite difficult to 'justify' serial assassination with anything else, even if the people you are killing are objectively 'bad.' You play as Corvo, the framed bodyguard of a murdered empress, and you join the ranks of a rag-tag alliance trying to rescue her kidnapped daughter.

That story had the potential to be pretty interesting, but it is hamstrung by the decision to have a mute protagonist. The game tries it's hardest to give other characters personalities, but since you can only kill them or complete quests for them, they come across as road-bumps for your man-shaped car. I hope that one day this trend will go the way of Classical Dramatic Unities as well-meaning but primitive conventions that hold media back.

The world though! The world of Dishonored oozes character. The decor echoes The Combine from Half-Life as well as Victorian England and World War I Germany. As that recipe may suggest, it's almost relentlessly grim, but also a little bit mad. So far, I haven't fought any monsters that could described as Lovecraftian; there are no tentacles or squamous blobs to speak of, but the atmosphere of madness is here in spades. It's a dark world whose secrets are pulling it apart by the seams. And there is the Outsider to consider.

He may remind you of a darker version of Gaiman's Morpheus, what with his abraxael temperament and his pitch black eyes. Shortly after you join up with the rebels, he gives you the power to teleport short distances and the opportunity for more fearsome magic like possessing rats and people, slowing down time, blasting people with wind and summoning rats to devour bodies--dead or alive. He also gives you one of the coolest videogame tools I've ever received. A beating heart stuffed with clockwork that helps you find upgrades, and when prompted, whispers disquieting secrets about the world and the people in it. If you are making a storytelling game, seriously consider putting neat optional narration tools like that into it. At the very least, I will love you for it.

One of the coolest things about Dishonored is it's treatment of whales. Conceptually speaking, anyway. The actual treatment of in-game whales is appalling to modern sensibilities. They are tirelessly hunted so people can harvest ambergris, which is a real thing. Except, instead of being used to make perfume, it acts as a revolutionary, universally applicable and highly volatile energy source.  It can power futuristic devices. It explodes if you shoot at it. The stuff is saturated with mystic power. And the same seems to be true of whales in general. You can collect charms and runes which are both carved from whale bones and used to purchase upgrades for your otherworldly powers. They are like currency for the Outsider.

It's one thing to invent a creature from whole cloth and say it's magical. Since you just made it up, how can it not be? It's another thing to take a known creature, especially one already fraught with significance and symbolism, exaggerating here and tweaking there to turn it into the driving force behind an entire world.

I think I've already sunk a good 15 hours into the game in my roundabout way, and so far I've only completed the first assassination mission. I'm not even attempting anything particularly fancy, like a no-kill or perfect stealth runthrough, though those options exist if you want to challenge yourself.

If you enjoyed Deus Ex: HR, Thief titles, or even BioShock, Dishonored is well-worth your ticks and cents.