Throughout the past couple of posts, I've been going on and on about the immersive potential of structurally fractured narratives, yet I haven't directly discussed any serialized media. As much as I love me some irony, this is an oversight which cannot stand. The next few posts are going to be about comics, television (including manga and anime respectively), and maybe some web series' as well. Lots of exciting things happening in these regions, and they need to be talked about.
Before we venture to these new and exciting regions, I'd like to offer my thoughts on Street Fighter IV, as it provides us with a topical opportunity to discuss the most serialized genre of video games: The 2D fighter. I haven't talked much about the potential pitfalls of narrative fractures and I can't think of a better example to prove my point. Let's begin with a personal history.
I became a serious gamer a bit later than most of my millenial contemporaries, (about 9 or 10 as opposed to 5 or 6) on account of good parenting. You see, I still hadn't figured out the whole "how to read" thing, and Mom and Dad didn't see how sitting in front of a television screen for hours on end would help matters. They already had to limit my time with the Gameboy Grandma gave me when I was 7. Ironically, I really began to blossom as a reader around the same time they caved and got me a Super Nintendo for Christmas. Whether there's a correlation is a matter for another post. Seriously. Remind me.
Anyway, my delay came with one grave cost: I missed the early-to-mid 90's fighting game boom, and I started too late to develop the insane hand eye coordination necessary to be competitive in the genre. Somehow I've managed to live on. This was part of my parent's plan of course. The media was rife with the horrors of Mortal Kombat; GTA of its day, though I never found it that appealing to begin with. My reading skills were still too feeble to appreciate the edginess of spelling 'Combat' with a 'K'.
I was always firmly in the Street Fighter II camp, allured by its anime-aesthetic, and the most iconic videogame attack of all time. I'd always beg for a turn at friends' houses, only to be laid to waste in a matter of seconds. By the time I had a SNES of my own, the entire 2-d fighting game scene was dwindling with the emergence of consoles with 3D capabilities, and Street Fighter II had lost most of it's mainstream appeal since Capcom saturated the market with a host of different editions of the game. They tried to revive interest in the series by introducing a new roster of characters in Street Fighter 3, but this pissed off players who had spent years training with the original characters, the vast majority of which were inexplicably cut. Capcom attempted to make amends by returning some of the cut characters with two more editions of SFIII. It didn't really work. The Street Fighter Alpha series found a small but dedicated following, though most mainstream fighter's got their fix with Capcom's cross over games, which really are incredible.
The age of street fighter seemed to have ended. Then this emerged.
I recognized it for what it is, but I still can't remember the last time I had been more excited about a sequel. Oh wait, yeah I can. Anyway, as much as I hoped the game would have the trailer's painted look I was afraid they would try to take the series to 3D again like they did with SF EX (which isn't even worth linking). Fortunately, Capcom decided to stick with 2D gameplay, while giving the characters and backgrounds detailed 3D characters models. The result is pretty, but it also looks a lot like SF2 updated with modern animation and HD graphics, which is funny because that already happened.
So how does it play? The phrase "returning the series to its roots" was thrown around a lot during the previews, and it's consistent with my experiences, right down to the old school throw-your-controller-against-the-wall difficulty. The CPU routinely kicks my ass on "Easy." Granted, I was trained in the weakest style of arcade kung fu, and just recently graduated to a style which is only slightly less embarassing. Still, there may be hope for me yet in the form of Focus Attacks; one of the two new mechanics Capcom introduced to the gameplay. Simply explained, Focus Attacks are easy to use all-purpose counter attacks. The other feature, known as the Revenge Gauge, seems to be a more technical version of the Special Attack Gauge (which is also still present), but I have yet to make heads or tails of it.
"But what of the story!?" you ask? I give you a flat stare and reply dryly, "What indeed."
Like every other game in the series, (hell pretty much every game in the genre), Street Fighter IV is centered around an international fighting tournament. Chronologically, I believe it occurs after SFII and before SFIII but I'm not sure. When I combed wikipedia for answers, I got a headache. The former's story has been told so many times, I don't know which one to go on. Normally I'd go with what's in the game, but to my knowledge, the only story telling that occurs in game are the quips your character makes to defeated opponents. Yet I know there is all this stuff about some evil organization with, and fighters harnessing dark energy floating somewhere in the periphery. Maybe it was in the game's manual somewhere? SFIV is slightly better. Each run through arcade mode begins and ends with these really nicely drawn anime scenes, but out of context, they make no damn sense. The scene that begins Abel's 'campaign' is a perfect example. This guy is brand new to the game, and not only does he have a huge amount of history, he's found a way to forget all of it! Are we supposed to have some idea who he is? How does he know Chun Li?
Even if there weren't so many different versions of the over-arching story, Street Fighter IV would still have to make sense of the fighting game's fundamental fracture: The Character Select Screen. Like all fractures, there's a lot of potential there, and Capcom even realizes some of it. Each character has a different reason for entering in the tournament, and a specific rival to take out. But for some reason, every character ends up in the same final boute against a semi-nude genetic monstrosity with a ying yang orb for an abdomen in a secret lab. Um. What? Is this still part of the tournament? Are the judges there with the evil scientists? I mean, SFII had the same nonsensically bottle-necked final fight, but at least M. Bison looked human. By the way, why is nobody surprised to find him back from the dead?
Look, I know it's a video game where people throw fire balls with their bare hands, and Yoga teaches you how to stretch your arms like Mr. Fantastic, but that doesn't mean you can't be coherent. I can suspend disbelief and ignore logic only so much, and Street Fighter IV crosses that line left and right. But if you're looking for a hardcore fighting game, you won't walk away disappointed.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
It is Written
I originally intended to have this up before Oscar night, but as usual, I'm behind schedule.
Slumdog Millionaire is a romance about a boy who goes on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? in India. It also won several academy awards this past weekend, including a well deserved Best Picture of the Year. If you haven't seen the movie yet, this is your stop. Seriously, thanks for reading and see you next post. You already know more about the film than I did when I saw it, and learning more will only diminish your experience of it. The film's best quality, in true underdog fashion, is how it comes out of nowhere and wins you over before you know what happened. And oh yeah, there is also information some would consider spoilers.
As a rule, I despise modern romances because they tend to embrace the story teller's greatest most loathsome foe: The Formula. Every story has a structure, and there are only so many narrative structures one can take, so the true virtue of the craft lies in the telling as opposed to what is told. Therefore in an inherently predictable genre like the romance (which almost always sticks to the first of two traditional endings: A) They hook up or B) they don't) a writer should constantly strive for innovation and take risks to keep the audience interested. The Formula supplants such noble endeavors in the interest of holding on to the most profitable common denominator, giving rise to an industry where "Wow, I'm a cute guy who still lives at home in his 30s" is a premise that warrants a remake.
Like Love Actually and 50 First Dates, two fine romances that mannage to escape The Grim Fate of the Formula, Slumdog Millionaire is actually a collection of stories by design. Instead of being told the story of how Jamal found love and came away a millionaire, you are given the story behind each answer leading to his ultimate triumph.
As Jamal bounces between his past, the game show and his trial in the inspector's office, we are kept guessing about what will happen next, and more importantly what will happen in between. Even more than in The Dark Knight, the fractures in the film's presentation serve to bring us deeper into the movie, by comparing Jamal's experiences with our own. If you were to 'unwind' the plot according to it's strict chronology, it's structure would be far more predictable and this engaging speculative element would be lost completely. This trick of scrambling the sequence of events is hardly new, but very few films have used it to such great effect. We would simply assume, as we do with all straightforward but pre-edited, narratives, that what happens between one scene and another is edited because it is unimportant; it is the time the characters' spend riding buses or in the bathroom. Then again, one of the movies most memorable vignettes takes place in a bathroom of sorts. The net effect is that we assume there is much more to know about Jamal's life, but understand that for brevity's sake, he is only giving us the most crucial details.
By the time the plot arc becomes apparent, (which for me was around the time Jamal and Salim took the skyscraper dive), it has already swept you along like a wave, depositing you amongst Jamal's cheering fans in the Millionaire stadium (who are all curiously absent after the show's over when he's waiting for Latika in the station). That being said, some may be put off by the "happily ever after" when it finally arrives. When Contrasted against some of the film's earlier harsh sequences, it can feel particularly manufactured, simply because real life doesn't spike between those poles so drastically, except in the most extraordinary circumstances. Then again, those exceptions are the ones people tell stories about, and Slumdog Millionaire tells a story about those stories.
Despite my tirade against the derivative evil of formulas, I am something of a traditionalist, and as much as I hate modern romances, I must confess that my favorite movies are classic romances. Movies that move you through tears to laughter and back again, with violence and tenderness interspersed, finally arriving at a finish appropriate for the tale told. And though it might be simple, what ending could be more appropriate for Jamal's experiences than a happy one?
Since only those of you who have seen the movie should be reading this, I don't need to tell you how fantastic the cinematography, the soundtrack and acting are, though I was especially fond of the shots of the kids running through the shanty town, the use of MIA's Paper Planes on the train, and Freida Pinto's portrayal of Latika in the film respectively.
Slumdog Millionaire is a romance about a boy who goes on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? in India. It also won several academy awards this past weekend, including a well deserved Best Picture of the Year. If you haven't seen the movie yet, this is your stop. Seriously, thanks for reading and see you next post. You already know more about the film than I did when I saw it, and learning more will only diminish your experience of it. The film's best quality, in true underdog fashion, is how it comes out of nowhere and wins you over before you know what happened. And oh yeah, there is also information some would consider spoilers.
As a rule, I despise modern romances because they tend to embrace the story teller's greatest most loathsome foe: The Formula. Every story has a structure, and there are only so many narrative structures one can take, so the true virtue of the craft lies in the telling as opposed to what is told. Therefore in an inherently predictable genre like the romance (which almost always sticks to the first of two traditional endings: A) They hook up or B) they don't) a writer should constantly strive for innovation and take risks to keep the audience interested. The Formula supplants such noble endeavors in the interest of holding on to the most profitable common denominator, giving rise to an industry where "Wow, I'm a cute guy who still lives at home in his 30s" is a premise that warrants a remake.
Like Love Actually and 50 First Dates, two fine romances that mannage to escape The Grim Fate of the Formula, Slumdog Millionaire is actually a collection of stories by design. Instead of being told the story of how Jamal found love and came away a millionaire, you are given the story behind each answer leading to his ultimate triumph.
As Jamal bounces between his past, the game show and his trial in the inspector's office, we are kept guessing about what will happen next, and more importantly what will happen in between. Even more than in The Dark Knight, the fractures in the film's presentation serve to bring us deeper into the movie, by comparing Jamal's experiences with our own. If you were to 'unwind' the plot according to it's strict chronology, it's structure would be far more predictable and this engaging speculative element would be lost completely. This trick of scrambling the sequence of events is hardly new, but very few films have used it to such great effect. We would simply assume, as we do with all straightforward but pre-edited, narratives, that what happens between one scene and another is edited because it is unimportant; it is the time the characters' spend riding buses or in the bathroom. Then again, one of the movies most memorable vignettes takes place in a bathroom of sorts. The net effect is that we assume there is much more to know about Jamal's life, but understand that for brevity's sake, he is only giving us the most crucial details.
By the time the plot arc becomes apparent, (which for me was around the time Jamal and Salim took the skyscraper dive), it has already swept you along like a wave, depositing you amongst Jamal's cheering fans in the Millionaire stadium (who are all curiously absent after the show's over when he's waiting for Latika in the station). That being said, some may be put off by the "happily ever after" when it finally arrives. When Contrasted against some of the film's earlier harsh sequences, it can feel particularly manufactured, simply because real life doesn't spike between those poles so drastically, except in the most extraordinary circumstances. Then again, those exceptions are the ones people tell stories about, and Slumdog Millionaire tells a story about those stories.
Despite my tirade against the derivative evil of formulas, I am something of a traditionalist, and as much as I hate modern romances, I must confess that my favorite movies are classic romances. Movies that move you through tears to laughter and back again, with violence and tenderness interspersed, finally arriving at a finish appropriate for the tale told. And though it might be simple, what ending could be more appropriate for Jamal's experiences than a happy one?
Since only those of you who have seen the movie should be reading this, I don't need to tell you how fantastic the cinematography, the soundtrack and acting are, though I was especially fond of the shots of the kids running through the shanty town, the use of MIA's Paper Planes on the train, and Freida Pinto's portrayal of Latika in the film respectively.
Monday, February 16, 2009
A Dark Knight Indeed pt. 2
As promised, here is the second half of The Dark Knight. Be warned, it’s another long one despite my best efforts.
To understand why the Dark Knight is so important, we have to return to the concept of breakage, and its significance in the comic medium. The fragmented presentation of comic books: the gaps between boxes on a page, the disjuncture between text and pictures, between each issue in a series: is it’s greatest point of potential. The breakages allows readers to fill in the gaps on their own terms, drawing them into the world more deeply than other media, for while Film utilizes the same sort of closure, the transition between one cell to the other happens too quickly and purposefully for us to be consciously aware of it.
To a limited extent, The Dark Knight translates this same fractured quality into the film medium. Indeed, the structure of TDK’s plot shares more in common with a typical limited series than it does with other comic book movies, including Batman Begins. Further more, the short quick cuts in fight sequences resemble the blow by box composition of a comic book fight. And do you remember that huge panorama as Bats prepared to jump off the skyscraper in Hong Kong? That was totally a centerfold. I believe this sort of fractured presentation will become increasingly popular in the future, (especially when you consider that the internet features a comparable type of fracture to comics, with its windows and mix of text and images) and given the widespread popularity of The Dark Knight, it will serve as the most effective vehicle to influence other film-makers
In addition to its technical aspects, both the acting and the casting in The Dark Knight are superb. Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman and Gary Oldman don’t break new ground but they give great performances. Maggie Gyllenhall is every ounce the ‘Rachael Dawes’ Katie Holmes was and more. I wish Nolan and Goyer knew how to write women better so she could have had more screen time, and more interesting things to do than falling out of windows. Aaron Eckhart is also at the top of his game, and he really brings a new level of depth and significance to the Harvey Dent/Two-Face character. It’s a shame that his performance has been so over-shadowed, and that he spent the second half of the film with that ridiculous make-up which was more ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ than it was horrifying psychopath.
My critique of Bale’s Batman can be summed up best by this video clip. Before the next movie roles around, (and you all know it will), I really hope Good Sir Gravelthroat has a chance to hear Kevin Conroy’s voice acting in Batman: The Animated Series. Nobody else will ever balance growl, bellow and brood so beautifully.
Then there is Heath Ledger’s Joker.
Like all great character performances, Ledger makes The Joker instantly familiar and distinctive. His drawn out, strangely affected pronunciation, fraught with cheek licks and lip smacks is as chilling distinctive as Hannible Lecter’s reptilian mannerisms, or even Darth Vader’s asthmatic deep breathing. But what really makes him impressive is how he evolved the character. The ever-changing “let’s put a smile on that face” story is a brilliant homage to the character’s inconsistent origin in the comics.
In short, Ledger gave the most memorable and influential performance of the year, and he should be up for Best Actor as opposed to Best Supporting. I realize that the full title of the awards is “Best Actor in a Leading Role” and “Best Actor in A Supporting Role,” but that is not how people refer to them, or how they are thought of. Best Actor is considered the most powerful male performance of the season. By contrast, Best Supporting Actor is thought of as the best nonessential role that elevates quality of the film. And I actually believe that this arrangement is completely appropriate.
The problem is that the Academy is developing a habit of mislabeling antagonists as ‘Supporting Roles’ when they want to honor two leading performances. In some cases, this is an appropriate classification. But can there be any doubt as to whether Anton Chigurh was a leading role, or if The Dark Knight was as much about The Joker as it was about the titular hero? The academy does it do avoid controversy. It is a lazy, half-assed attempt to appease audiences who would cry foul if their candidate walked away empty-handed and it compromises the critical integrity of the Oscars. Best Supporting is effectively reduced to a runner-up ribbon that cheapens the performances of its recipients, and the guy who walks off with the Best Actor Oscar should be humbled knowing he was spared some of the stiffest competition. Worst of all, actual supporting roles worthy of merit now have no hope of taking home an Oscar.
Then there is the lack of a best picture nom. Honestly, if a movie featuring so much technical innovation, an all star cast and one of the most memorable and influential performances in years can’t even contend, what does it take? From what I have observed in the past, winning a best picture boiled down to two main criteria:
1: You have to be a big budget production that employs half of Hollywood.
2: You have to be a timeless story with universal appeal.
In the past few years however, a few international and independent films have taken home top honors. Films with minimal budget’s and star power which manage to become critics’ darlings, because they prove that film can be more than literature made easy. Consequently they tend to be ‘harder’ to watch and less popular. Don’t worry I’m moving on. Films whose stories fall within the realms of para-literature, (Comic books, Science Fiction, Horror, Fantasy; you know, nerdy shit) straddle these two approaches to Best-Picturedom. Though their themes are broadly accessible, their obscure trappings prevent universal appeal, and they are usually too commercial for the critics to enjoy. Therefore they must satisfy themselves with make-up and special effect awards.
The academy made an exception for The Lord of the Rings Trilogy because A) Tolkien’s work is regarded as the highest example of the fantasy genre and B) the movies’ cast and production values fulfilled criteria 1 several times over. The original Superman movie also managed to take home best picture, because it was the first superhero movie, based on the first super hero. Being the first is worth quite a bit. Having the one of the most memorable score from Hollywood’s best beloved composer didn’t hurt either. Interestingly, I have to admit that music was one area where Dark Knight fell rather flat for me.
Despite that shortcoming though, I couldn’t help but feel that Batman deserved to compete for best picture. Then again, even if he did, I would not want to see him win. You see, Slumdog Millionaire, is the best picture of the year. But I’ll talk about that next time
To understand why the Dark Knight is so important, we have to return to the concept of breakage, and its significance in the comic medium. The fragmented presentation of comic books: the gaps between boxes on a page, the disjuncture between text and pictures, between each issue in a series: is it’s greatest point of potential. The breakages allows readers to fill in the gaps on their own terms, drawing them into the world more deeply than other media, for while Film utilizes the same sort of closure, the transition between one cell to the other happens too quickly and purposefully for us to be consciously aware of it.
To a limited extent, The Dark Knight translates this same fractured quality into the film medium. Indeed, the structure of TDK’s plot shares more in common with a typical limited series than it does with other comic book movies, including Batman Begins. Further more, the short quick cuts in fight sequences resemble the blow by box composition of a comic book fight. And do you remember that huge panorama as Bats prepared to jump off the skyscraper in Hong Kong? That was totally a centerfold. I believe this sort of fractured presentation will become increasingly popular in the future, (especially when you consider that the internet features a comparable type of fracture to comics, with its windows and mix of text and images) and given the widespread popularity of The Dark Knight, it will serve as the most effective vehicle to influence other film-makers
In addition to its technical aspects, both the acting and the casting in The Dark Knight are superb. Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman and Gary Oldman don’t break new ground but they give great performances. Maggie Gyllenhall is every ounce the ‘Rachael Dawes’ Katie Holmes was and more. I wish Nolan and Goyer knew how to write women better so she could have had more screen time, and more interesting things to do than falling out of windows. Aaron Eckhart is also at the top of his game, and he really brings a new level of depth and significance to the Harvey Dent/Two-Face character. It’s a shame that his performance has been so over-shadowed, and that he spent the second half of the film with that ridiculous make-up which was more ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ than it was horrifying psychopath.
My critique of Bale’s Batman can be summed up best by this video clip. Before the next movie roles around, (and you all know it will), I really hope Good Sir Gravelthroat has a chance to hear Kevin Conroy’s voice acting in Batman: The Animated Series. Nobody else will ever balance growl, bellow and brood so beautifully.
Then there is Heath Ledger’s Joker.
Like all great character performances, Ledger makes The Joker instantly familiar and distinctive. His drawn out, strangely affected pronunciation, fraught with cheek licks and lip smacks is as chilling distinctive as Hannible Lecter’s reptilian mannerisms, or even Darth Vader’s asthmatic deep breathing. But what really makes him impressive is how he evolved the character. The ever-changing “let’s put a smile on that face” story is a brilliant homage to the character’s inconsistent origin in the comics.
In short, Ledger gave the most memorable and influential performance of the year, and he should be up for Best Actor as opposed to Best Supporting. I realize that the full title of the awards is “Best Actor in a Leading Role” and “Best Actor in A Supporting Role,” but that is not how people refer to them, or how they are thought of. Best Actor is considered the most powerful male performance of the season. By contrast, Best Supporting Actor is thought of as the best nonessential role that elevates quality of the film. And I actually believe that this arrangement is completely appropriate.
The problem is that the Academy is developing a habit of mislabeling antagonists as ‘Supporting Roles’ when they want to honor two leading performances. In some cases, this is an appropriate classification. But can there be any doubt as to whether Anton Chigurh was a leading role, or if The Dark Knight was as much about The Joker as it was about the titular hero? The academy does it do avoid controversy. It is a lazy, half-assed attempt to appease audiences who would cry foul if their candidate walked away empty-handed and it compromises the critical integrity of the Oscars. Best Supporting is effectively reduced to a runner-up ribbon that cheapens the performances of its recipients, and the guy who walks off with the Best Actor Oscar should be humbled knowing he was spared some of the stiffest competition. Worst of all, actual supporting roles worthy of merit now have no hope of taking home an Oscar.
Then there is the lack of a best picture nom. Honestly, if a movie featuring so much technical innovation, an all star cast and one of the most memorable and influential performances in years can’t even contend, what does it take? From what I have observed in the past, winning a best picture boiled down to two main criteria:
1: You have to be a big budget production that employs half of Hollywood.
2: You have to be a timeless story with universal appeal.
In the past few years however, a few international and independent films have taken home top honors. Films with minimal budget’s and star power which manage to become critics’ darlings, because they prove that film can be more than literature made easy. Consequently they tend to be ‘harder’ to watch and less popular. Don’t worry I’m moving on. Films whose stories fall within the realms of para-literature, (Comic books, Science Fiction, Horror, Fantasy; you know, nerdy shit) straddle these two approaches to Best-Picturedom. Though their themes are broadly accessible, their obscure trappings prevent universal appeal, and they are usually too commercial for the critics to enjoy. Therefore they must satisfy themselves with make-up and special effect awards.
The academy made an exception for The Lord of the Rings Trilogy because A) Tolkien’s work is regarded as the highest example of the fantasy genre and B) the movies’ cast and production values fulfilled criteria 1 several times over. The original Superman movie also managed to take home best picture, because it was the first superhero movie, based on the first super hero. Being the first is worth quite a bit. Having the one of the most memorable score from Hollywood’s best beloved composer didn’t hurt either. Interestingly, I have to admit that music was one area where Dark Knight fell rather flat for me.
Despite that shortcoming though, I couldn’t help but feel that Batman deserved to compete for best picture. Then again, even if he did, I would not want to see him win. You see, Slumdog Millionaire, is the best picture of the year. But I’ll talk about that next time
Monday, February 9, 2009
A Dark Knight Indeed pt. 1
In the interest of full disclosure, I must confess that I believe Batman to be the best superhero ever. As a child I collected his toys, tore around the backyard in a black cape, and occasionally referred to myself as Bruce Wayne. My affection for the character has grown slightly more discrete with age, but it has also grown deeper as I've come to understand him better. Instead of super powers, Batman has serious mental problems. He is not a superior man but a broken one, yet he uses that breakage as a point to draw in strength normal people could not use. Some nitpickers say that doesn't count as a superpower, and that Batman is consequently not a real superhero. But whenever somebody says superhero, the bat symbol comes to mind pretty quick.
That acknowledged, The Dark Knight is the most important superhero movie made so far.
To those who witnessed the release of the original Batman movie, or even the first Spider-man movie, I'm sure this seems like hyperbole. After all, they both broke box office records and made nerdy fanboys out of 'mainstream audiences.' Hell, even Iron Man managed the same trick earlier in the summer: making a well-known 'comicbook character’ into a well-known character, period. Hell of a trick it was too. Tony Stark’s steal alter-ego had grown considerably rusty since his Cold War origins, and Marvel did a bang up job of polishing him into a shiny chrome champion hip to today’s sensibilities. But even after the credits rolled, and Samuel L. Jackson’s Avengers epilogue made all the sidewalk sitters squeal with schoolgirl glee, it was still just a popcorn flick.
The Dark Knight strives to do more with the concept of superhero film. As implied by the new bat-symbol, we are returning to the broken Batman. In fact, the concept of “breakage” is central to the movie’s composition. The story presents us with a number of instances of division by mirror image. To begin with, superheroes are characters fundamentally divided between crime-fighter and alter ego. Bruce Wayne, a shallow cover for the dark knight, is the inverted reflection of Harvey Dent, a white knight who publicly fights crime. Batman the crime-fighter can be similarly contrasted against the Joker, as both are anonymous rule breakers serving opposing interests. This creeping fissure model continues withHarvey
Naturally, not everybody will like it. Needless to say, those yearning for the whimsy of the Golden Age Batman comics are better off watching the Adam West series: There be no bat-puns or “Holy___’s Batman!” here. But even those who like their caped crusaders fairly hardboiled may be put off by the film’s relentlessly somber tone, as Nolan doesn’t let a minute pass without reminding you how Dark his world is. He never succumbs to the juvenile Underworld-brand of angst that Hot Topic peddles. It’s all genuinely grim, and it can wear you out as a result.
Authentic as the presentation is, the actual message being delivered is rather unsettling. A mainstream movie has never preyed on the fears of terrorism harder. Hell, it’s even in the advertisements.
That acknowledged, The Dark Knight is the most important superhero movie made so far.
To those who witnessed the release of the original Batman movie, or even the first Spider-man movie, I'm sure this seems like hyperbole. After all, they both broke box office records and made nerdy fanboys out of 'mainstream audiences.' Hell, even Iron Man managed the same trick earlier in the summer: making a well-known 'comicbook character’ into a well-known character, period. Hell of a trick it was too. Tony Stark’s steal alter-ego had grown considerably rusty since his Cold War origins, and Marvel did a bang up job of polishing him into a shiny chrome champion hip to today’s sensibilities. But even after the credits rolled, and Samuel L. Jackson’s Avengers epilogue made all the sidewalk sitters squeal with schoolgirl glee, it was still just a popcorn flick.
The Dark Knight strives to do more with the concept of superhero film. As implied by the new bat-symbol, we are returning to the broken Batman. In fact, the concept of “breakage” is central to the movie’s composition. The story presents us with a number of instances of division by mirror image. To begin with, superheroes are characters fundamentally divided between crime-fighter and alter ego. Bruce Wayne, a shallow cover for the dark knight, is the inverted reflection of Harvey Dent, a white knight who publicly fights crime. Batman the crime-fighter can be similarly contrasted against the Joker, as both are anonymous rule breakers serving opposing interests. This creeping fissure model continues with
Naturally, not everybody will like it. Needless to say, those yearning for the whimsy of the Golden Age Batman comics are better off watching the Adam West series: There be no bat-puns or “Holy___’s Batman!” here. But even those who like their caped crusaders fairly hardboiled may be put off by the film’s relentlessly somber tone, as Nolan doesn’t let a minute pass without reminding you how Dark his world is. He never succumbs to the juvenile Underworld-brand of angst that Hot Topic peddles. It’s all genuinely grim, and it can wear you out as a result.
Authentic as the presentation is, the actual message being delivered is rather unsettling. A mainstream movie has never preyed on the fears of terrorism harder. Hell, it’s even in the advertisements.
Fortunately, the Joker is a thoroughly original villain and a refreshing departure from the terrorist archetype. In fact, he’s more like something thought up on /B/ and brought to life: a prospect infinitely more loathesome and terrifying than any islamic extremists. Hell, you could even consider his anonymity to be his super villain power: Batman only manages to beat him by using technology that invades people’s privacy. For me, the “just this once” argument for using the cell-phone sonar was the most chilling scene in the entire movie (though the white-eyed effect was a great homage to the comics). The ending speech about lying to Gotham ’s people so they would still have something to believe in gave me a shiver too. The inevitable impotence and corruption of diplomacy, symbolized by Harvey Dent’s transformation to Two-Face, was also a downer. The movie isn’t blatant propaganda though. One walks away with the sense that things are not right, and that the heroes were acting in true desperation as opposed to nationalistic machoism. It bears repeating.
All that writing and I still haven't explained why The Dark Knight is so important. You have to set the stage for these things though. If you bear with me for just one more post- no Dan Brown bullshit- I promise you, I'll get to the point. I'll also offer a general discussion on the academy award, a funny youtube clip embedded right in the blog. No clicking required! Though there will be funny links for the clicking inclined too.
All that writing and I still haven't explained why The Dark Knight is so important. You have to set the stage for these things though. If you bear with me for just one more post- no Dan Brown bullshit- I promise you, I'll get to the point. I'll also offer a general discussion on the academy award, a funny youtube clip embedded right in the blog. No clicking required! Though there will be funny links for the clicking inclined too.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
The biggest little game ever
I was tempted to postpone Braid again to discuss the academy's crime against batman, and yet again to discuss Y: The Last Man.
I don't really remember when I first heard about Braid. For an independent game, it drew lots of pre-release buzz, and while it never really grew into a full blown phenomenon, it consistently made headlines in the gaming industry. In critical and journalistic circles, it garnered some of the most interesting, refreshing commentary I've ever read about a video game. It was positive sure, but hyperbole is the grammar of gaming journalism. What really caught my eye was that reviewers were talking about Braid's implications as a work of art. Jason Roher's comment from Arthouse Games preview in particular really stuck with me: "Braid has the potential to change the way you think about reality. It will certainly change the way you think about video games."
Now I'm not gonna argue that every game should strive to alter our perception of reality. Entertainment is gaming's reason de etra and sometimes simply blowing shit up, stompin' some goombas or dealing with an endless deluge of blocks is more entertaining than a mind bending masterpiece. Still, the staggering potential of video games; the ability to live out the “What if” science fiction questions, is what allows the video game to transcend their status as a simple platform for escapism and instead broadens our perception of reality. This dialectic between the 'reality escaping' and 'reality enhancing' is especially interested when compared to fiction, and recent distinctions being made between casual gamers and hardcore gamers.
As is customary for the English Major, I'm going to fall back on Shakespeare to explain my point. Contrary to popular belief, writer types do not celebrate The Bard for his timeless plots, which were all stolen from earlier storytellers, but rather the way he told them. That's right, the language that confounds frustrates and frightens most casual readers is the writer's aphrodisiac. It's harder to decipher, and requires a greater familiarity with the mechanics of language, much like Portal requires more experience with moving through a simulated avatar through a simulated environment than a game like Tetris does. If you don't believe me, watch somebody who doesn't play video games regularly try to walk around and work the camera in a 3D game. Bring popcorn. Part of the reason hardcore gamers feel Portal is superior to Tetris is because they appreciate the complexity of the game’s mechanics. Most casual gamers prefer Tetris because they can understand it, just like casual readers prefer the easy to read Twilight to Shakespeare. That's right, Twilight is to literature as Tetris is to videogames.
According to this structural comparison, Braid is a lot like Hemmingway minus the chauvinism and alcohol: It uses a familiar easy-to-read vocabulary to create an experience that will challenge readers’ intellect and patience. If they see it through to the end, they will be rewarded with that kind of yawning comprehension which is as unsettling as it is satisfying. In this case, the familiar vocabulary is platforming and time travel. The two-dimensional platformer is probably the most accessible representation of a virtual world which is why Mario was so important: it gave gaming something to stand on (Hahaha! Platform! Something to stand on! Do you get it? …oh go to hell, it’s funny!). Overhead games are also fairly straightforward, but non-gamers are frequently confused about where they are supposed to go. The single axis of interaction makes progressing intuitive and it also gives the game an inherent narrative quality. Time traveling in videogames got really popular with Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, but it’s really as old as the concept of extra lives. Resurrecting to try the same level again is conceptually identical to the plot of Groundhog Day. Every time you die and comeback, your Bill Murray Proxy does a little better based on the mistakes you made earlier. Hopefully, anyway. Sometimes you just throw yourself in a bath tub with a toaster.
Not everybody would agree. In addition to the praise it garnered, Braid made news last year when mainstream gamers cried foul over its $15 price tag feeling it was an inexcusable departure from the typical $8 they had come to accustom to paying for XBLA titles. Holkins and Krahulik tackled the subject back when it was topical, with the cynical wit I try so hard to emulate. People complained that the game was too short, but for a game where rewinding is a near constant practice, it has a surprising amount of replay value and variety. You can complete it fairly quickly, but its quality is certainly just compensation. The lighthearted watercolor graphics won’t win any technical awards, but their simple aesthetic pairs perfectly the game’s surprisingly solemn story. As for the audio, the music is appealing when heard frontwards or backwards (a fairly crucial but easily to overlook touch), and the amusing sound effects are themselves homages to a time when arcade games where defined by their beeps and boops.
It's a debate which has been brewing for a long time. Roger Ebert famously drew the ire of every serious gamer on the planet when he declared that games were an inherently lower art form than literature and film years ago. He noted that those who created videogames had to surrender some degree of creative control to their audience; a structural quality he argued was antithetical to the craftsmanship of narrative in film and literature. Of course, Ebert does not play games and those that do had little difficulty pointing out the falsehoods and idiocy of his declaration. Considering all the creative effort that went into crafting Braid’s puzzles and weaving its narrative into a perfect circle, there is no question that gaming can produce experiences as thoroughly crafted and moving as any other narrative format, if not more so. Admittedly, the inherent vision structure of the video game’s structure does pose some questions. For example, can the way we play a game make it higher or lower art? Those are questions for another day, though I believe it will arrive very soon.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Hope and Change
I'm delaying my discussion of Braid. Given my recent run of broken promises, nobody should be surprised. On this day, there are simply bigger things to talk about.
Barack Obama is beyond big. and I've been waiting to write on him for a while now. In fact, I considered beginning this blog on election night, November 4th 2008, with a discussion of his victory. Ultimately, I decided against it, partially because I was so caught up in the thrills of the evening, but also because I was intimidated by it's sheer momentousness. Aside from questions of where to start or what could be contributed, I was afraid that the inevitable vacuum of the event's historical mass would place my blog, and my voice into a narrowly political category. I never wanted to be apolitical either though. It's a futile endeavor which produces feckless writing. Now that Sarcasmancy has had a chance to spread it's wings a little bit, I think it's finally safe to indulge in political tendencies.
Like most self-described liberals, I was appalled and enraged by the Bush administration, and like you'd expect from a writer, it was his administration's rhetoric which I found most offensive: Culturally xenophobic speeches suggesting, in the tradition of the frontier cowboy (a figure that should have gone extinct over a century ago), that real men don't solve problems with diplomacy and any attempts at compromise or gestures of contrition are signs of weakness. Punctuated with folksy mispronunciations and hollow Christian invocations, these shortsighted declarations were carefully calculated to sustain and even cultivate the very terror they claimed to combat. Bush's scheming handlers found an opportunity in fear. To them, a scared nation willing to sacrifice everything to save itself from phantoms was a delightful prospect. Something which could be mined and muled without complaint. Perhaps, Credence Clearwater Revival described the situation best:
"And when you ask them, how much should we give?
Ooh, they only answer more! more! more!"
I honestly cannot conceive a more appealing and appropriate counter point to this than the idealism and eloquence Barack Obama has displayed throughout his presidential campaign. I thought very highly of John McCain before he consented to run with Sarah Pallin; an avatar of everything I despised about the former party. Regardless of how confident McCain was in his health, anyone willing to risk the nation with a second in command so painfully inexperienced is not fit to lead it himself.
I sigh and digress. It was not my intention to continue bitching about the past eight years when they are now finally past us. The sad truth is, it is far too easy to fall prey to old habits, and the incentives for being a bigger man are small indeed. After a victory, the desire to celebrate is natural. The desire to be gracious, when you fear your opponent will misconstrue your celebration as gloating, regardless of how you conduct yourself...well, not so much. I honestly can't blame the republicans for their cynicism though. If I were a disappointed conservative who listened to liberals complain about how my ideals were ruining the country throughout the entire election, the sudden calls for unification would ring falsely indeed.
That doesn't mean we shouldn't try. Instead of continuing to rant, I will do my best to describe the promise I saw in Barack Obama's inauguration today in such a way that others may share in my optimism. For me, The single most gratifying line I heard in Obama's entire speech was the line "As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals." We cannot afford to damn ourselves in order to fight the demons. At the end of the day, there are just more demons to go around. I find Obama's promise to close the guantanamo bay detention facility (look at the end of the entry) with an executive order during his first week of office to be extremely uplifting. Even if you believe that desperate times justify dark measures, you'd be hard pressed to admit they were good things to do, and the fact that such despicable practices are behind us is something to be glad about. We are not loosing anything here. The breakable prisoners have been broken by this point, so there is no potential information being forfeited, nor is there any risk of potential villains escaping justice, no matter how hastily the closure is executed. These people will be kept on tight leashes; they just won't be whipped with them anymore.
That being said, I hope Obama takes all the time he needs with the transition. A lot of evidence can be conveniently lost in a transitional period. The temptation to rush will be difficult to resist too. After all the speeches and promises made about change, not just by the official campaign, but by supporters and everyday citizens, my biggest worry for the new administration is it's own impossible hype. When the liberal messiah fails to solve global warming, gaza and the energy crisis within his first week, the press is going to crucify him. Liberals are going to start presenting pithy anecdotes which are only tenuously related to the shift in political climate and try to present them as proof that change has come. Here is a personal example of 'a false change story' from my personal life:
"After spending another weekend wrestling with illness, and caring for my girlfriend, who has now also come down with a wretched contagion of her own, I showed up for school today exhausted and completely unprepared for my history quiz. But when I arrived at the classroom door, I was greeted by a note stating that class was canceled and the quiz had been postponed until Thursday. There wasn't any explanation, but I'm sure it had something to do with the inauguration. Boom! My life is already better for Obama. Change has come!"
Such stories are heartwarming, humorous and harmless as long as you appreciate the irony of the situation: the real change Obama has been promising is not the sort of thing which will arrive in an instant and affect a single day of your life. It will be gradual and require a lot of hardwork, but it's effects will be tremendous. If people present such meager epiphanies as proof of a promise fulfilled, we will have cheapened that promise. The truth to the story's joke, for all jokes are a blend of truths and ironies, is that change must begin with one's personal perspective.
Barack Obama is beyond big. and I've been waiting to write on him for a while now. In fact, I considered beginning this blog on election night, November 4th 2008, with a discussion of his victory. Ultimately, I decided against it, partially because I was so caught up in the thrills of the evening, but also because I was intimidated by it's sheer momentousness. Aside from questions of where to start or what could be contributed, I was afraid that the inevitable vacuum of the event's historical mass would place my blog, and my voice into a narrowly political category. I never wanted to be apolitical either though. It's a futile endeavor which produces feckless writing. Now that Sarcasmancy has had a chance to spread it's wings a little bit, I think it's finally safe to indulge in political tendencies.
Like most self-described liberals, I was appalled and enraged by the Bush administration, and like you'd expect from a writer, it was his administration's rhetoric which I found most offensive: Culturally xenophobic speeches suggesting, in the tradition of the frontier cowboy (a figure that should have gone extinct over a century ago), that real men don't solve problems with diplomacy and any attempts at compromise or gestures of contrition are signs of weakness. Punctuated with folksy mispronunciations and hollow Christian invocations, these shortsighted declarations were carefully calculated to sustain and even cultivate the very terror they claimed to combat. Bush's scheming handlers found an opportunity in fear. To them, a scared nation willing to sacrifice everything to save itself from phantoms was a delightful prospect. Something which could be mined and muled without complaint. Perhaps, Credence Clearwater Revival described the situation best:
"And when you ask them, how much should we give?
Ooh, they only answer more! more! more!"
I honestly cannot conceive a more appealing and appropriate counter point to this than the idealism and eloquence Barack Obama has displayed throughout his presidential campaign. I thought very highly of John McCain before he consented to run with Sarah Pallin; an avatar of everything I despised about the former party. Regardless of how confident McCain was in his health, anyone willing to risk the nation with a second in command so painfully inexperienced is not fit to lead it himself.
I sigh and digress. It was not my intention to continue bitching about the past eight years when they are now finally past us. The sad truth is, it is far too easy to fall prey to old habits, and the incentives for being a bigger man are small indeed. After a victory, the desire to celebrate is natural. The desire to be gracious, when you fear your opponent will misconstrue your celebration as gloating, regardless of how you conduct yourself...well, not so much. I honestly can't blame the republicans for their cynicism though. If I were a disappointed conservative who listened to liberals complain about how my ideals were ruining the country throughout the entire election, the sudden calls for unification would ring falsely indeed.
That doesn't mean we shouldn't try. Instead of continuing to rant, I will do my best to describe the promise I saw in Barack Obama's inauguration today in such a way that others may share in my optimism. For me, The single most gratifying line I heard in Obama's entire speech was the line "As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals." We cannot afford to damn ourselves in order to fight the demons. At the end of the day, there are just more demons to go around. I find Obama's promise to close the guantanamo bay detention facility (look at the end of the entry) with an executive order during his first week of office to be extremely uplifting. Even if you believe that desperate times justify dark measures, you'd be hard pressed to admit they were good things to do, and the fact that such despicable practices are behind us is something to be glad about. We are not loosing anything here. The breakable prisoners have been broken by this point, so there is no potential information being forfeited, nor is there any risk of potential villains escaping justice, no matter how hastily the closure is executed. These people will be kept on tight leashes; they just won't be whipped with them anymore.
That being said, I hope Obama takes all the time he needs with the transition. A lot of evidence can be conveniently lost in a transitional period. The temptation to rush will be difficult to resist too. After all the speeches and promises made about change, not just by the official campaign, but by supporters and everyday citizens, my biggest worry for the new administration is it's own impossible hype. When the liberal messiah fails to solve global warming, gaza and the energy crisis within his first week, the press is going to crucify him. Liberals are going to start presenting pithy anecdotes which are only tenuously related to the shift in political climate and try to present them as proof that change has come. Here is a personal example of 'a false change story' from my personal life:
"After spending another weekend wrestling with illness, and caring for my girlfriend, who has now also come down with a wretched contagion of her own, I showed up for school today exhausted and completely unprepared for my history quiz. But when I arrived at the classroom door, I was greeted by a note stating that class was canceled and the quiz had been postponed until Thursday. There wasn't any explanation, but I'm sure it had something to do with the inauguration. Boom! My life is already better for Obama. Change has come!"
Such stories are heartwarming, humorous and harmless as long as you appreciate the irony of the situation: the real change Obama has been promising is not the sort of thing which will arrive in an instant and affect a single day of your life. It will be gradual and require a lot of hardwork, but it's effects will be tremendous. If people present such meager epiphanies as proof of a promise fulfilled, we will have cheapened that promise. The truth to the story's joke, for all jokes are a blend of truths and ironies, is that change must begin with one's personal perspective.
Friday, January 16, 2009
How d'ya like me now Lich?
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.
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