The Last of Us: Prologue

Replaying The Last of Us in order to get several trophies (half of which glitched and failed), I was struck by a number of things that I'd either never noticed before or just hadn't realize how much it contributed to making it one of the best games of all time. At the same time, I've also been reading an extremely thorough breakdown and analysis of the Mass Effect trilogy. It seemed like maybe something worthwhile to try and do something similar here, although admittedly in far less detail. This will still presumably be fairly long, and I haven't quite figured out exactly where to break everything up, but each "chapter" should be pretty easy to digest.

Let's start at the beginning: The Prologue.

As with most narrative-driven games, The Last of Us opens with a cutscene. It introduces us to Joel - the main protagonist - and his daughter Sarah. The scene takes place "now." Everything is totally normal, and this is a world that we the player are totally familiar with in our own lives. This is our current real world.  Joel is a single father who works late hours, and Sarah is a sweet girl who tries to stay up so she can catch him before bed.

When Joel comes in the door, he is on the phone explaining how badly he needs this job. Already we can see his commitment to his daughter. Working late night or strange hours, he is clearly doing what he can to take care of Sarah and provide the best life he can for her. Given what we know becomes of Joel in the twenty years after this, it's a little unusual to see him begging, or come off as desperate, but it is a different time and different circumstances.

The bulk of the opening is designed to just show how much this family loves each other. They joke around and have really sweet moments, from Sarah presenting her father with a nice watch for his birthday to Joel carrying a sleeping Sarah to bed. It's just touching enough that it establish that we should like these people, obviously setting the groundwork for what is to come.

Interestingly, the first character the player controls is Sarah. A phone call wakes her up. Her uncle Tommy is on the phone looking for Joel. This introduces player-control. The technical aspect is immediately apparent. Consider how much has to go into that very first moment you control Sarah. She gets out of bed with her lamp to her right and a mirror directly in front of her. You've got three moving parts here.

Note Sarah, her reflection, and her shadow. All have to move precisely in coordination with the player's movement.

First, there's Sarah, the character you control. The game has to be responsive, obviously, and given it's going for realism, there's also a fair amount of subtly in the motions. When you're not walking, she is still moving slightly. She'll roll her neck or rub her eyes. She's never completely motionless. Second, there's the mirror in front of her. That has to correspond to the player's movements as well. If you don't walk around, you will notice Sarah's movements occurring in the mirror as well. It's immediate and perfectly mimics Sarah's gestures. Third, there's the shadow. Like the mirror, the shadow Sarah has to correspond to the player's motions. Again, it moves when Sarah does in both walking and the still-motions like rubbing her eyes. Plus, it has to change size depending on player motion. As you move away from the lamp, the shadow gets smaller. In essence, you are controlling three versions of Sarah on screen at one time. It's executed flawlessly, highlighting the capabilities of the console and game engine. You know that you are in for a beautiful game.

Sarah introduces the players to the controls in a very low-stakes fashion. With no infected or bad guys around, the player is free to wander about the house at their own pace. While movement controls don't ultimately vary that much from game to game, it is good to ease the player in.

This segment controlling Sarah also introduces players to an interactive world. Once you start making your way to the door, there is a symbol indicating an item to examine. As you approach, the circle indicator turns into a triangle prompt, establishing that the triangle button is going to be how you interact with the environment around you. It doesn't hurt either that the item is a birthday card that Sarah forgot to give to her father. This adds to the emotional settlement the story is trying to build off of. In fact, the very act of controlling Sarah creates a link between her and the player, which the creators are banking on for maximum emotional impact.

The Dawn of the Wolf poster, as well as the picture of Joel and Sarah (just above phone) serve as reminders to a normal world.

Looking around the room is also a fun thing to do, as it presents several things that will connect to this time period before the world as they knew it ended. Most obviously is the "Dawn of the Wolf" poster - a Twilight-like movie franchise popular at the time when people were able to go to the movies. We see this poster many times scattered throughout the ruined cities. It serves as a reminder to a time when everything was normal. We also see the picture of Joel and Sarah, something that will be used a couple of times in an effort to remind Joel of a more pleasant time. More subtly, there's also a stuffed giraffe in the corner. While not as blatant as "Dawn of the Wolf" or the family photo, giraffes do make a reappearance later in the game. In game, the giraffe sequence offers one of the most peaceful moments. That moment may call to mind Joel's daughter, and the happier times before the end of the world.

As you make your way out of the room, a creepy atmosphere takes hold. She calls for her father to no answer. Sarah is alone, after a cryptic message from Tommy, in a dark home. There are more things to interact with to give more sense that something is up. In the bathroom, there is a newspaper with headlines about hospital overcrowding as a result of a mysterious infection. There's also a story about a crazed woman murdering four people. This is a solid bit of world building. Even though the game just starts, this paper lets us know that the greater events of the game have already been underway for a little while. We aren't there when the first person becomes infected, but we're present when mass panic breaks out. This also does a great job establishing that there are always going to be larger elements to the story that happen just off camera because the focus of the story is smaller. The focus is on Joel and his family.

Note the explosion knocks out the television causing static. Also take note of the television's reflection in the mirror at the far side of the room.

In Joel's room, we get more of this, plus more highlights of the technical capabilities. Standing near the entrance, you can see the television, where a reporter is telling a story of some mysterious outbreak. At the end of the room is yet another mirror, again copying what appears on television perfectly, to the precise moment of the explosion - which you see out of Joel's window as well. There are again basically three moving parts that are all intrinsically connected. This sequence also adds to the eerie feeling, made more uncomfortable with the persistent dog barking.

Down the stairs you go, as police cars whiz passed the house. The dog is still barking. Sarah still calls out for her dad a few times to no avail. You will notice her body language changes too. At first, she was stumbling around, having just been awoken. After the explosion, she's noticeably tenser. She often has her fists clenched and her arms wrapped around her body. She's visibly scared, and understandably so. As she makes her way past the glass sliding doors, things get even more scary when the dog suddenly yelps and goes quiet. If the player moves the camera around to view outside, they can also see the tire swing out back motioning around. The dread grows as it becomes obvious that something is outside.

She finds Joel's phone and sees panicky texts from her uncle. On the refrigerator is a note from her father, with little information about his whereabouts. These are moments that both add to the suspense and solidify the player's understanding in how to interact with objects in the world around them.

It's also worth mentioning that most of these things are completely optional. You don't have to go into Joel's room. You don't have to look at Joel's phone or look at the note, or the newspaper, or any of this stuff. Joel's room offers a lot in the way of building tension and dread, but it doesn't force the player in there. It guides you there, drawing your eyes to it with bright lights shining through the door, encouraging you to go in there, but it does not force you to do so. Naughty Dog games often get knocked for being a bit too linear, but here, the designers are good at making you feel like you have more agency and freedom than, say, the Uncharted games.

The player is not required to go to Joel's room, but doing so adds to the creepy atmosphere. The game draws your eyes to his room, but it does not force you to go there.

Then, all hell breaks loose. Joel rushes in, frightened and vague. He grabs his gun and starts loading it, which adds to Sarah's fear. She's terrified, and then Jimmy, their neighbor, breaks through the glass door, forcing Joel to shoot him. This introduces us to the basic concept of this pseudo-zombie apocalypse that is the center of the game, but we're just at the initial outbreak. Joel is probably just as scared. He tries to put on a brave face, especially when Tommy shows up, but he's clearly panicking a bit - a trait we are not familiar with him having later in the game.

Placing the characters in the car gives the player the opportunity to just play around with the camera. While you cannot walk around, you can look around. In fact, the game encourages you to do so. The initial introduction period is a low-stakes way to allow the player to get comfortable, but it's also possible they just walked from point to point. That section can be accomplished with minimal camera movement. The car ride allows new players to just play around with the camera, to get an idea of its sensitivity and responsiveness.

In terms of narrative, it also adds to Sarah's feeling overwhelmed and powerless. You're in control of her, but she's not in control either, really. Meanwhile, you get to observe some frightening things around you, making it clear that this isn't just an isolated thing anymore, establishing that this plague is just starting to have a widespread effect. We see neighboring families packing up and preparing to leave their homes. A bunch more cop cars speed by. There is wreckage from a recent car crash. A barn is completely ablaze. Most disturbingly is a family desperate for a ride, begging you to stop. Tommy wants to pick them up, but Joel tells him to keep driving. Sarah is disappointed, stating that they should have helped those people. This already sets up that when push comes to shove, Joel is only interested in his family.

We get more scenes of the infected brutally attacking people as Tommy and Joel become a bit more panicked and Sarah becomes more terrified. Inevitably they end up in a crash, and that is when we switch over to Joel. Sarah was an introduction. She allows players to get a feel of the controls, and also increases our sense of concern. Joel is a grown man with a gun. We feel pretty ok about his ability to take care of himself. Sarah, on the other hand, is just a child. She needs protecting, which means that as we control her, we feel more like we need protecting too. But of course, this is still a video game, and one entirely built on the premise of protecting someone else. So naturally, the car crash is where we switch over to Joel, switching us from the one who needs protecting to the one doing the protecting.

This is also key in creating the big emotional moment. After having just controlled Sarah for a little bit, we're now responsible for taking care of her. We know how terrified she is because we were just her! The game establishes her fear by having us play as her, then puts us in charge of defending her by having us play as Joel. Though the big moment would still be really sad, this entire concept maximizes the feeling.

Note the blood splatter on the "camera." Those little things add to the cinematic feel of the game.

As an aside, the attention to detail to make the game feel both incredibly realistic and superbly cinematic cannot be overstated. Take, for example, the moment when Tommy knocks out an infected with a brick. The camera is close up on Joel as he's being attacked. When Tommy smashes the infected with a brick, blood splatters onto the camera and stays there until the next "cut." Naughty Dog has been going for cinematic games for a while, and it's this kind of thing that makes them feel as such.

The ensuing chase scene can get a little Helter Skelter. The crowd of AI characters fleeing the infected often get in the way, knocking you off course or holding you up momentarily. It's not really a problem, but it can induce a bit of panic when you hear the sounds of the infected behind you. Functionally, this sequence takes the movement tutorial further. If Sarah walking around the house was to get used to movement and the car ride was to get used to camera control, then this fleeing infected moment puts them together.

The finale of the prologue is incredibly emotional given that we don't really know much about these characters. It's a credit to the writers and designers at how well they are able to get players connected to them in such a short amount of time. Having us control both characters is key, but so are those little moments. Of course, we can't sell short the beautiful score from Gustavo Santaolalla, or the acting in general. (We'll probably delve deeper into Troy Baker's performance later. God knows there are tons of incredible moments to highlight.)

While maybe not the most effective tutorial overall (indeed there are large chunks of the gameplay - most of it, really - that get left out), it's a great example of how to introduce some basic tutorial elements seamlessly into the narrative of the game. A number of gameplay, environmental, and character elements are established in the prologue, and it does so without burdening the players with interrupting text instructions. Certainly, it's a great start.

The World's End (2013)

At first glance, The World's End feels like an amalgamation of the previous installments. Gary King seems a bit like Shaun - both are kind of slackers who don't take control of their lives. At the same time, the overall plot feels a bit similar to Hot Fuzz in that there is this big conspiracy that engulfs the town. These are obvious similarities, but they're surface level only. Gary is much darker than Shaun. We eventually figure out that Gary was probably dealing with drug addiction and depression, which is probably a huge reason why his life didn't get better than "that night." His friends grew up and moved on while he held on, desperate to just "have a good time." Meanwhile, Shaun had his loyal friend Ed the whole time. While Shaun had problems with his step father, he himself was at least trying to "grow up." He was engaged - to some extent - in the "real world."

With the conspiracy theme, there were a few key differences. Firstly, it was the people of Sandford who chose to create that system. Sure, those who disagreed were removed in the same way as with Newton Haven, but overall, no one came into Sandford to tell them what to do. This brings the biggest difference: the definition of "greater good." In Sandford, they wanted to stop the town from changing. It was essentially a social conservatism. They wanted to protect the "good old days." Yet the Network went the opposite route. They believed the "greater good" meant rapid technological progress, essentially at the cost of a real cultural identity and even culture itself! When you look at these two movies independently, you get different messages, but looking at them together - as a whole work - it seems they are suggesting that it doesn't even matter, "greater good" is a ridiculous concept to quantify.

If you've never seen an Edgar Wright movie, you need to be aware that everything is intentional, everything is thought out, and everything has multiple meanings. (Edgar Wright might just be a modern day Stanley Kubrick in this regard!) Because everything has double (sometimes triple) meaning, it's probably not a bad idea to rewatch these movies. The World's End seemed to be chalk full of this, more than the previous works.

The most glaringly obvious example of double meaning is the very title of the movie. The World's End is the name of the bar at the end of the "golden mile." Innocent enough. When you get to the end of the movie, sure enough, the world as we know it comes to an end.

Ok, simple enough. But that's not the only bar that follows that pattern. What's the first bar in the Golden Mile? Yep. "The First Post." Pretty straight forward. After that, each bar has a name that will predict what is going to occur there. Following the First Post, the gang move to The Old Familiar. What happens there? They meet up with Oliver's sister Sam - an old acquaintance that no one other than Oliver has seen in ages. From there, they move on to the Famous Cock. This, of course, is the first bar where Gary is recognized as he was banned from there after their initial attempt at the Golden Mile. Gary is nothing short of the definition of the British slang term "cock." (Andy even calls him that at the end.)

After quickly getting kicked out of there, they move on to the Cross Hands. This, of course, is where the movie takes its sci-fi action turn. Gary and the gang get into a bathroom brawl with five youth robots. Then, it's onto the Good Companions! Not much of note happens here, but this is also where Gary decides that the best plan is to keep going with the pub crawl in an effort to avoid suspicion from the town of robots. As they walk to the Good Companion, they walk together in stride wearing fake smiles. This pub is especially symbolic from its sign, which shows four blue masks with worried expressions surrounding a golden mask with a giant smile. Of course, at this point, only Gary King is still having a good time while his companions are reluctantly tagging along, anxiously waiting to leave. But they continue to follow Gary King - like good companions.

Onto the Trusty Servant, where they run into the Reverend Green who is not a robot. Instead, he is a human who chose to follow the rules in order to remain human. There are only a few humans left, but they essentially serve the robots. By The Two-Headed Dog, they are looking at everyone with suspicion knowing that any one of those people could really be robots. Indeed, the overly chipper bartender seems to bring much suspicion. Oh, and they also fight twins.

Then they move on to the Mermaid. This one is a little more obvious from the rest as this is where the robots attempt to seduce Gary, Andy, Peter, and Sam. This scene runs as something of a parallel to the story of Odysseus and the Sirens. The Mermaids were trying to tempt the remaining group to join them - in an effort to snatch them and replicate them - while Steven and Sam wind up acting a bit in the Odysseus role as saviors of their "crew."

The Beehive is also pretty straight forward. The crew's old teacher, Guy Shepard, is a robot and I think he even uses the metaphor of bees in a beehive to explain the goal of the Network. They want to work together to build something greater. And of course, this is also the set of the biggest action sequence, where the group is nearly overrun by the "swarm" of robots.

Andy winds up having to knock out Gary to get him to his car so they can leave, but the car is parked on the other side of The King's Head. This pub is a bit of a call to that fact, but also to the general state of mind Gary is in. At this point, they've lost two friends. The situation has escalated exponentially. They know that they need to leave, but the moment Gary regains consciousness, he goes right into another pint before running off to the next pub.

At The Hole in the Wall, Steven comes to save the day by driving the car through the wall creating a hole to escape from. And then, of course, we end up at The World's End.

And that's just the pub names!

Also something that comes up a lot are seemingly throw away lines or jokes that also predict the future. The most obvious of the jokes being the five musketeers. When Gary picks up all his friends, he calls them the five musketeers. Of course, they point out that there were three musketeers (four if you include d'Artagnan, Peter adds). Gary then jokes that there should have been five, that way two of them could die and they'd still have three left. This, of course, stands out more upon the second viewing - and even at the time it seems a little odd and foreboding. And since everything is super intentional, indeed this statement does predict the future: Peter and Oliver are replaced by robots, with Gary, Andy, and Steven surviving as the three musketeers (four if you count d'Artagnan/Sam).

A more subtle reference is to the failing phone networks. Regularly throughout the night, several people try to call someone. No one can get through to anyone despite having several bars. "Must be the network," they say. Little do they know how accurate that is. The robots are part of an alien robotic civilization called - you guessed it - the Network.

Even more, Gary King's statement when they are on the road overlooking Newton Haven at the beginning. "Feast your eyes on her original colors," Gary says, "for tonight we paint this town red!" Of course, he's using the expression to mean having a good time. But by the end, that is literally what they've done by destroying the network and subsequently, setting the entire town on fire.

And more subtle still: when Gary points out that Oliver has made it beyond the bar where last time he fell off, Oliver nervously asks for clarification on what he is saying. Gary then gets enthusiastic and responds, "I like the new you!" Even though we are meant to assume something is up with Oliver, no one fully understands just how accurate the idea of "new you" is. 

Everything about this movie -  moreso than other Edgar Wright works - is incredibly intentional. It's not just puns and double meanings. Consider the names of all these characters. Gary King. Andy  Knightley. Oliver Chamberlain, Peter Page, and Steven Prince. King, Knightley, Chamberlain, Page, Prince. These are all names that call to mind the Dark Ages (which Andy later says the world is in during the aftermath). It calls to mind Arthurian times. Gary King is their king. "Didn't we agree to stop calling him 'our fearless leader'?" Steven asks when they all get off the train to meet him.

This on its own is neat, but inconsequential. But then look at the overall theme of the movie. When you think about Hot Fuzz or Shaun of the Dead, it's pretty much about adjusting to your surroundings. Shaun finally gets his act together to become more responsible and reliable. Nick Angel learns how to relax and unwind. But here, Gary King resists change. Actually, he is the only true character in the movie. Everyone else has grown up and become adults, and they all think less of Gary for being stuck in the '90s. But when you watch, you realize that Gary is the only one living truthfully. He lives how he wants. He rejects the notion that "growing up" means leaving fun behind. In fact, everyone who has "grown up" seems to be a little bit more miserable than Gary. And at the same time they  mock him for being stuck in the past, it's clear that none of them have truly let go of it either - Peter still harbors ill will towards the guy who bullied him, Steven is still in love with Sam, et cetera - they've just gone to great lengths to mask it.

By all means, Gary is a man out of time. He hasn't found his place in this world because he doesn't belong in this time. It's not a simple case of "getting it together," nor "unwinding." Gary acts like a king among the group. Even his speech tends to take a relatively high brow tone. He often breaks into strange turns of phrase that feel straight from Arthurian times.  This is one of the larger overarching themes of the movies, and the characters names are directly tied in. (These guys clearly know what they're doing!)

The film itself follows certain patterns and cycles. Not only does practically everything come back (from every early line to even minor things like Basil quietly drinking his beer through a crazy straw), but the present parallels the past. On the present pub crawl, they lose Oliver at the same bar (The Trusty Servant) as the first time. Andy gets drunk and goes crazy, ripping open his shirt in the Beehive, same as in their youth. The remaining four get paranoid in the Smoke House just like last time. And then they finally have to abandon Peter in the park, same as before. History repeats itself, but in much more serious fashion.

Apart from the incredibly tight and detailed film making, they also tackle an even greater theme: the "Starbucking" of culture. Here, they are essentially making commentary on how things seem to be going more corporate - watered down to be easier for consumers to digest. You see this in the bars, none of which have any discernible identity - especially noticeable in the Old Familiar, which looks virtually identical to The First Post. But it's more than just the bars. Everyone in the town - especially the kids - look like they come straight out of an ad for the Gap! The cultural identity is either nonexistent or entirely shallow and pointless in nature. Everyone is devoid of individuality.

In the end, the world as we know it stops. Humanity loses its main technology (which we got from the Network) and we are thrown into a new Dark Age. This comes from the final confrontation, the final conversation between Gary and the Network. The  Network argues that Earth is the least civilized planet in the galaxy and that they need to come and save them from themselves by absorbing them into the Network. But Gary and Andy point out some of the many flaws with this idea. First, they point out just how  many people refused to conform and thus had to be replaced by robots. Then, Gary points out just exactly why it is the Network hasn't been successful in getting willing supporters.

Since everything comes back, the last part of their conversation mimics the lyrics of Primal Scream's "Loaded" (itself the song playing over the opening "present day" shots). "Just what is it you want to do?" the Network asks him.

"We wanna be free! We wanna be free to do what we wanna do! We wanna get loaded. We wanna have a good time!" (This is not the first time, or even the second time Gary quotes the song.)

And in this moment, Gary is speaking for more than just himself. He is speaking on behalf of the humans. He is the king. The Network even refers to him with royal tone: "Gary King of the Humans." Gary - the extremely flawed man who initially seemed stuck in the past - is telling the Network what we all think (on some level at least). We just don't want people to tell us what to do - a very human feeling.

Of course, this causes the technology we've become so reliant on to disappear. The world falls to ruin. We are left to pick up in the ashes. For as bleak of an ending as it was, it retains an air of hope. Not everything is bad. Andy got back together with his wife. Steven and Sam finally got together. And Gary found himself in a time fitting of him. He found his place.

Everything comes back. Andy's serious line about ordering water in a pub comes back too. At the First Post, he orders a tap water to the displeasure of Gary.  After being ridiculed, Andy responds to something along the lines, "It takes confidence to order a water in a pub. When you come in with the boys after a rugby match and everyone is here dressed in war paint. It takes balls to order a tap water."

So what is the last shot of the movie? Gary King, leading a group of robots abandoned when the Network left Earth, hitting up a bar that only serves humans. Gary walks up to the bartender, calm and confidently. He is surrounded by guys who look like they came off the set of Mad Max. They look tough. They look mean. They're dressed in literal war paint. And what does Gary ask for? A tap water.

Boom! Everything has come full circle. All of these seemingly insignificant lines and jokes come back with new-found meaning. In a way, these serve to prove you don't need to regularly replace the old with the new. You can use the same lines and jokes as before, but give them new meaning.

This is a level of film making competence that seems increasingly rare in the Hollywood summer blockbuster fare. Not to say you don't get pieces of tight film making, but certainly, you don't find many with that level of depth, that many layers, and that much attention to detail. There's definitely a lot of rewatch value. You can pick up new things each time. For example, I noticed that in one of the bars, some kids are playing an arcade version of Monopoly. Kind of a strange choice for an arcade game, right? But consider that the Network is essentially a cultural monopoly, making everyone fall in line or be replaced. You can't retain individualism or any individual identity. It seems pretty clear given the attention to detail that this was an intentional choice of a game put in by Wright. Then there are other things, such as how the posters on the Mermaid showing shadowy figures dancing show them with glowing blue eyes. These sorts of background gags give you yet another thing to watch for. Certainly, you're doing yourself a slight disservice if you go into The World's End thinking it's going to be an easy viewing.

The World's End is darker and more serious than Shaun of the Dead or Hot Fuzz, but it is just as funny. It has a lot of heart. It has multiple ways to interpret certain thematic elements. The movie is just all around great. To my mind, it stands as the best in the Three Flavours Cornetto trilogy. Actually, it is the best piece of work from Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg entirely.

Mass Effect: The Ashley Williams Debate

If you're familiar with the Mass Effect franchise, then you might be aware of one discussion that has been going on practically since the beginning. Is Ashley Williams a space racist? For a while, the popular opinion seemed to be a resounding yes.

This might be, in part, because of the nature of the game. Controlling Commander Shepard, the game sort of pushes players to be unifiers. Whether you play Paragon or Renegade, Shepard is ultimately an agent of togetherness. The galaxy's best chance - and the player's best chance for the least crappy ending - lies in your ability to bring different alien races together. Ashley doesn't necessarily stand against that, but at a time when you're bringing in new races and forging alliances, she offers a different take. She not only has reservations about their new allies, but doubts their sincerity and their true commitment. Given the general atmosphere of the game, this attitude stands apart and comes off as xenophobic, or "space racist."

Lately, people have started to argue the other way. Ash is just being cautious. She doesn't hate aliens, and despite her reservations, she still works closely with them. You won't see her starting anything with her new alien squad mates. It even seems that she likes some of them! It's only fair to point out that even if Ash were space racist, she's far from the only one. There are literally human supremacists in this universe, there are anti-alien politicians gaining ground, there's Cerberus, and even with all Ash said that can be interpreted as xenophobic, she's not nearly as hostile as Chief Navigator Pressley.

And really, how bad is her xenophobia compared to other space racists in other species? You don't have to go too far to note xenophobic Salarians, Asari, Turians, or Krogan. In fact, the Krogan practically exist to hate Salarians! So what's a little caution compared to that outright anger and hostility?

Plus, it could be argued that Ashley Williams was right. But more on that later. First, we need to put both Ashley and the human race in context of this well-crafted universe.

Humans are the new kid in the galactic town. Yet a history of brash and bold actions have earned them more power in galactic politics that, while treated like second class citizens in the beginning, it's pretty clear they're on their way to a seat on the Council. By comparison, species that had been around much longer, like the Volus and Elcor, seem to be stuck. They can never get traction in gaining representation on the Council. This creates bitterness among some of those species and humankind. When you meet the Volus ambassador, he doesn't even try to hide his disdain for humanity. Factor in that the humans entered the fold with a war against the Turians - the steadfast military power of the Council. That was everyone's introduction to humans.

It's not hard to see why there is resentment among species.

Similarly, Ashley Williams is not cautious without reason. Her family had been involved in wars with the Turians. It can be debated how much "respect" the Council gives humanity, but it's clear that many humans don't feel they're given enough. Ash falls into that category. And when we meet her, she's the lone survivor of a surprise attack when a Geth army lead by a Turian show up to Eden Prime.

Basic point here: having reservations and concerns about the aliens on board the Normandy is completely understandable.

Again, it's worth noting that she's not outwardly hostile towards anyone on the ship, and everything she says to her commander are comparatively moderate in tone. She even admits that humans should accept assistance from the other species. Her main point quite simply seems to be that humanity should learn to be completely self-dependent. "I just think we shouldn't bet everything on them staying allies," she says. "As noble as the Council members seem now, when their backs are against the wall, they'll abandon us."

People tend to argue that she was right about that (again, more on that later), but regardless, that itself does not come off as particularly "space racist."

Perhaps it's worth clearing up what exactly we mean, by the way. The idea that humans are "racist" in a universe where they're second class citizens is a little off-based. If Ashley has concerns about being around alien species, it is not coming from a position of power. She is not voicing this opinion to put down her alien team mates, nor is she saying this simply to exert power over them.

It would be more accurate to refer to her attitude as slightly xenophobic. Some of her concerns are unwarranted, and some of the metaphors she uses indicates some messed up attitudes, but being that she has no power herself, nor has she advocated anything to put aliens down in general would make it a bit more accurate to describe her as "xenophobic" rather than "racist."

That's been a big part of the problem when it comes to this discussion. People say she's "racist," but that term itself is often used in a very reductionist manner that betrays its true meaning. Still, it's probably safe to assume that most people don't truly mean she's racist when they say "racist." They're often being hyperbolic. These are, more often than not, internet conversations. People will do that. A lot.

The best defense of Ashley is, of course, a similar concept. People have been misunderstanding her concerns, or deliberately misrepresenting them to force her into this reductionist box of "space racist." As mentioned, a big theme of the game is unity, and players are urged early on to be accepting of other aliens. So when you hear one of your crew saying things that go against that, it stands out. It's easy to misinterpret.

This is all true. Few characters have been more misunderstood and misinterpreted than Ash. To be clear as well, this all pertains to her in the first game. It's pretty clear by Mass Effect 3 (if she gets there) that she couldn't give two shits about where her help is coming from, so long as someone was helping her take down Reapers. By and large, her reservations - whether you think they've been realized or not - do not really factor in much in that game.  There are two quotations that tend to get used both to attack and defend the Gunnery Chief, but a lot of times, people on both sides try to force them into a singular box that fits their argument.

"I can't tell the animals from the aliens!" she exclaims when you get to the Citadel. Without putting any context on this fictional universe, it's easy to see why this comes off as "racist." After all, if you were to show up to China for the first time and say the same thing, it would be hyper racist! But we need to remember that Ashley is speaking as someone who has never been to the Citadel, and thus has never seen so many different species in the same place. She's also got no frame of reference, like the player. I'm sorry, but who honestly looked at a Hanar for the first time and thought, "I bet that's a sentient being I can totally talk to!"

Insensitive? Totally. Racist? Not really. She's looking at things she's not familiar with. It might be ignorant, but it's not hateful.

The other comment gets a bit trickier.

"Look, if you're fighting a bear and the only way to survive is to sic your dog on it and run, you'll do it. As much as you love your dog, it isn't human." 

I've heard it explained that she's not actually talking about humans in this hypothetical scenario. Instead, she's talking about other alien races.  If so, she's basically arguing that the Council has no problem using humans to do things for them, but in a bind, they don't see humans as actual people and would be quick to abandon them as the inferior beings that they are.

This is kind of complicated though. First, I'm not so sure that is what she's saying. Second, the impulse to again defend her "aliens equal animals" comment in the same manner as the first quotation is flawed. There's a pretty fundamental difference in this instance than in the previous statement. In the first comment, she isn't really saying that aliens are like animals. She's just commenting on how strange everything looks to her, given her life experience.

But with the second, it's a bit different. She isn't comparing aliens to dogs per se, but she is pointing out that they aren't human, and in doing so, ultimately does speak of them as inferior creatures. By using dogs in the analogy, intentionally or not, she is basically saying that they're lesser organisms. The leap from a dog to a human is a much, much, much more substantial jump than from a human to a Turian. These other races she's referring to are highly evolved beings that we know for sure are sentient, conscious, and capable of thought, reasoning, emotions, morals, and of enacting free will. Bottom line: Turians might be a different species, but they're basically on the same level as a life form.

No, she's basically saying this: "If you're fighting a bear and the only way to survive is to sic your Japanese friend on it and run, you'll do it. As much as you love your Japanese friend, they aren't American."

That's the fundamental difference in those two statements wherein she, probably inadvertently, compares aliens to animals. To sum it up in the form of a nerdy exam, fill in what you think the appropriate answer is:

Human : Dog  : :  Krogan : __________
A. Asari
B. Turian
C. Elcor
D. Varren

The correct answer is, obviously, D. Dogs are pets, not "allies" or friends. To use a more vague term, they're not "people."

No matter how reasonable Ashley's concerns may be - and they are! - this comment still comes off as very xenophobic, and hints at perhaps a deeper, more messed up attitude towards alien species. If she thinks of other aliens like Tali or Garrus in the same vein as a dog, then perhaps she does harbor some more hateful xenophobic opinions as well.

And just so we're clear here: saying she's xenophobic or even racist does not mean she's basically Space Hitler. Ashley's position and attitude is very nuanced, but racism is itself nuanced too. People aren't either "not racist" or "KKK." There are varying degrees of it. By no means is anyone actually suggesting she's basically just a human supremacist bent on putting aliens down so humanity can gain a leg.




So let's get this other bit out of the way: Was Ashley right?

As mentioned, it's often argued that her concerns were not only reasonable, but completely justifiable as it turned out she was totally right. When their backs were to the wall, the alien races did abandon humanity!

But how true is that, really? And how much of that is itself reducing the elements of the final game to an overly simplified thing that we can fit nicely in the "she's not a racist" box?

Take, for example, the idea that the Council races very much did abandon humanity. When Earth was swarmed by Reapers, none of the other species rushed to help. (For the sake of this piece, I'm just going to refer to them as "nations.") The Asari, the Turians, the Krogan, the Salarians...Not even the Elcor or Hanar or Drell came to help.

The argument is that their "backs were to the wall," and so they abandoned all of their allies. I'd counter with the idea that most of them didn't actually have much of a choice. The Turians, for example, didn't abandon Earth just because. They didn't rush to help because their own home world of Palaven was also swarmed by Reapers. Even then, it wasn't an unwillingness to help. Consider that Shepard shows up, sees that Palaven is in the same boat as Earth, and basically asks for a fleet without even offering anything in return. He's asking for help, but doesn't really offer much in return.

Yes, we as the players recognize that defeating the Reapers at Earth will inevitably bring about the end of the Reapers across the galaxy, but Shepard doesn't exactly relay that information to the Turians. They have no reason to know that is the case.

After speaking with the Turian general, it turns out that they actually are pretty willing to help Earth. They just aren't willing to do so at the cost of their own planet. When you provide them with something in return, they don't hesitate to send the ships you ask for. Given that Palaven was in pretty rough shape too, that's really telling. All it took was some krogan ground troops and helping a general's son regain honor, and boom! You've got your allies.

Then there's the case for Salarians, where it's important to make a distinction between "Salarians" and "Salarian government." Though unaffected by the Reaper invasion from the outset, they witness the destructive powers of this enemy and seek to strengthen their own defense for the impending invasion. They don't rush out to help Earth because they are scared they're next.

Keep in mind that when you get to Sur'Kesh, you find that there's actually a sizeable faction that actually does want to aid Earth. It's the government that refuses. In terms of races "abandoning" their allies, who do we pin this on? A number of Salarians want to focus on their own homeworld, while a number of them want to go out and take the fight to the Reapers first. You've earned some credit by this point in the game. Even if you completely ignore the Salarian Dalatrass's request to destroy the genophage cure, there are still Salarians that come to Earth's defense.

The only people that seem to be an open and shut case of true "abandonment" is the Asari. Again, not affected by the initial outbreak, they take an isolationist approach. Eventually, the Reapers strike, and they're more convinced than ever to focus on their own.

And while you get the Quarians who act all morbidly, trying to reclaim their their original homeworld so they can die there, let's not forget the rachni, who - if you saved the queen in the first game - do want to help you. No force is more willing to help for so little a cost than the rachni. While you don't necessarily build any official alliances with the rachni nation, they only "abandoned" humans because they were enslaved. Once freed, literally the first thing they do is go to help your cause.

In all of this, it's again worth noting that many of your allies are not human. Your crew is largely made up of aliens, and many of them sacrifice their own lives so that you may save Earth.

This point of "they did abandon us" seems flawed because it isn't hard to get them to help. Sure, you can screw everything up and get next to nothing, but if you're willing to give, you will receive. My "definitive" playthrough resulted in Quarians, Geth, Turians, Salarians, Krogan, and Asari all joining up with humans and even rachni in one last stand on Earth.

So for me, it's kind of hard to argue Ashley was right they would abandon us. It took some work, sure. But I also think it's a little unfair to use the whole "back against the wall" thing as an argument, given that that implies no choice, and it feels a little unfair to hold something against someone who isn't in much of a position to do anything. The Turian government, for example, had no choice. It isn't until you manage to get some help for them that they are even able to offer aid. But once they are able to do so, they do so! To me, that counts for something.

Thus, I'm not so sure that Ashley was correct in any sort of meaningful way.




At the end of the day, the answer to the question, "Is Ashley a space racist" doesn't exactly fall cleanly into any one side. She clearly is not hateful towards aliens. Though she expresses concerns, she's rarely hostile towards the aliens on board the Normandy. But she also clearly exhibits some xenophobic attitudes. Regularly throughout the game, she'll make a comment or two that make you pause.

In many ways, she holds one of the more nuanced set of beliefs and opinions that sets her apart from everyone else. If a player does think she's being a bit insensitive and space racist, it means she's a good character. She's challenging you. A lot of times, people fail to meet that challenge by simply saying, "She's racist" and then ignoring the things she's actually saying.

She also highlights another (perhaps unappreciated) similarity between humans and the other species: the capacity for ignorance and insensitivity. As mentioned, Chief Williams is hardly the worst person, and certainly not a huge bigot. However, she does harbor some poor opinions of other races, which makes her like a lot of aliens out there too.

If Mass Effect has one unquestionable strength as a somewhat inconsistent franchise, it's that it always creates a great set of diverse characters. It's not just in the different aliens, but in the humans as well. When you have one of each alien, of course they're going to stand out as unique. With humans - a species we're already well familiarized with - that manifests in the form of different opinions or beliefs. (Ashley's faith is another thing that sets her apart in the first game, even if it doesn't really play much of a role in anything after.)

This is all what makes her such an interesting character. She gets a little under appreciated, especially if your Shepard is a soldier class, since she offers little in the way of combat usefulness. In the whole debate, people miss that about her though. It isn't that she's "definitely a racist" or she's "definitely not a racist." Ashley Williams serves as a character to highlight the political and social atmosphere of the galaxy, while specifically existing in this sort of gray area. You can't blame people for defending her general opinion. Agree or disagree, it's easy to see where it comes from. You also can't blame people for attacking her insensitive and sometimes misguided opinions about aliens. Agree or disagree, it's easy to see why people might interpret them the way they do.

Of course, it's also worth noting that this is only an issue in the first game. Maybe the entire point of her character is to show how attitudes can change. There's little to suggest she's still holding onto some of those opinions come the third game, probably because of her new history with aliens.

So the next time someone asks, "Is Ash a space racist?" It's probably best to answer with, "Maybe. But she's definitely human."

Far Cry 3 (2012)

Way back in the year when I completed Far Cry 4 and was talking about how I generally enjoyed it quite a lot, a few people told me of their disappointment. Apparently, the argument against it was that it didn't change up enough from Far Cry 3, and while it was still enjoyable, it was basically the same game.

I went backwards, but now that I've played Far Cry 3, I totally see what they were talking about. It's not so much that the newer game doesn't improve some things; it's just that it plays virtually the same. Most of the elements of 4 were core mechanics of 3.  Perhaps judging which one is better depends completely on the order in which you've played them. In my case, I like 4 better, but I also played it first. For others, they prefer 3 and played it when it released originally.

All in all, it plays virtually the same way. Players run around an open world doing side quests or story missions. The things I found most enjoyable here were the same things I enjoyed most in Far Cry 4: running from outpost to outpost and radio tower to radio tower and liberating them. In fact, here more than 4, I enjoyed just exploring more than the story and side missions.

Side missions are recycled in the later game. Here, you will hunt special animals to upgrade your equipment. You will try to kill enemy captains with a knife. You will race medical supplies to specific locations. And you will run favors for a few villagers. It's pretty much the same stuff. That was always the bit I didn't care too much about in 4, and I cared just as much about it here.

The setting is different, but it isn't too much crazier. Instead of the Indian-like environment of 4, players can explore a Pacific island area. There isn't too much of a different, really. You'll still run into leopards and tigers and bears. There will also be sharks and komodo dragons though, and those guys are the worst! While not all that different, it's still different enough that preference between 3 and 4 might also just come down to which place you like more. (In my case, I liked Kyrat better than the Rook Islands.)

As for the story, it's fine. When you watch videos or see commercials for a Far Cry game, you maybe don't expect as much weird mysticism as you get. It could potentially be off putting to those unfamiliar, but it's usually pretty interesting. Players control Jason Brody, who must transform himself into a hardened warrior in order to save his friends after they are taken prisoner by local pirates, to be sold off as slaves. There's a little bit of cheesy melodrama among the friends, but the main story of Jason is fairly interesting. As he gets more involved with the native people and their effort to fight the pirates, he becomes increasingly comfortable with his role as a soldier. It makes him feel meaningful and powerful. It's pretty meta.

However, I would argue that the villains here are less interesting. They do that sort of "bait and switch" thing that I typically don't like. For the first half of the game, the Big Bad is Vaas - a crazy guy who doesn't seem to have much method to his madness. It's just madness. He's also not that great at making sure people are dead after he thinks he's killed them. After you take care of him, you move onto the "true Bad Guy," in Hoyt. He's the kingpin of everything, apparently. The problem with this is that Hoyt is behind the scenes for the majority of the game, that is, just until you have to seek him out. Vaas, meanwhile, maintains some presence in the world until you kill him. Either way, both guys are just evil, crazy people.

By and large, Pagan Min is a better, more interesting, and more compelling villain. It doesn't hurt either that 4 plays with a few more complexities to the situation (that you're fighting a crazy dictator while also one step away from splitting the resistance into two competing groups makes that story substantially more compelling). The tough choice to make here is whether you embrace your warrior transformation - which you can only do by killing your friends - or try to recover from the trauma by leaving the island with your friends all in one piece. For a mission called "Hard Choices," it really, really wasn't. If the choice had been to abandon your friends - who you just spent the entire game trying to reunite with - while they leave the island and you stay, that would have been one thing. Instead, you are expected to murder them. Far Cry doesn't give you a breakdown of choices made by the public the way that some choice-based episodic games do, but it's hard to imagine that too many people picked "Kill friends!" It's just too much of an unreasonable option. Killing them would render most of the game pointless, but it also doesn't speak to the nature of Jason's evolution to the ultimate warrior. His friends were his motivation and why he became such a fearsome soldier. How exactly would killing his friends make him even more powerful? Just seemed like a forced option that wasn't really tough at all.

Far Cry 3 is apparently a much bigger leap from its predecessor than Far Cry 4 was - and to be sure, it's a really fun game! - but for my money, Far Cry 4 has just enough improvements and is just a bit cleaner that I'd argue that's the superior game. Both are worth playing.

And if you haven't played either, it might be worth it to play Far Cry 3 first.

Dan Solo Episode 6: Emily Is Away

Were you a big internet user in the early aughts? Were many of your high school and early college relationships heavily driven by an almost unhealthy amount of AIM conversations? Do you enjoy interactive stories? If so, then Emily Is Away might be something you'd be into. Tapping into nostalgia, this short, interactive story hits a little close to home, making it a tad uncomfortable at times. (But as Kelly Sue DeConnick said, "On the other side of discomfort is growth.")




Archived Link:

BioShock (2007)

One of the defining games of the last generation of gaming, BioShock succeeded largely by creating such an engaging and creepy environment with a strong narrative conducted primarily through exploration. Before going on, I have to admit that BioShock was one of the first video games that I fully got sucked into, so while it generally is regarded as one of the best games, it holds a special place for me as a key gateway game.

BioShock is a first person shooter with a horror/suspense theme, but it doesn't really play like other shooters. Exploration, powers, and even just avoiding enemies are key parts of the game as well. Given the spacial limitations of the claustrophobic Rapture, you also don't engage in giant firefights. This creates suspense as you often turn corners to find enemies you must attack head on or hear enemies in the distance that you can't see yet. Additionally, it prevents the typical style of run and gun familiar in the FPS category.

It's also one of the better designed shooters to date. Not only do they limit the space you can move around in; they also wisely split up your powers from your weapons. It takes a moment to swap between a power and returning to your gun. You can only use one thing at a time, which further enhances the tense feeling of combat. If accustomed to your typical military shooters where you always have your gun out, it can seem a bit frustrating at first. Even later BioShock games get away from this a little bit, with BioShock 2 allowing you to speedily use guns or powers simultaneously, and Infinite swapping very quickly to match the increased tempo. Perhaps it takes a little time to get used to the controls in that way, but it's a well thought out element of game mechanics, really.

The powers themselves are a lot of fun to use, with such a wide (and strange) diversity of things. You can light people on fire with Incinerate, or you can go with the more odd Insect Swarm which sicks a swarm of bees on your opponents. These powers are often key to surviving, especially in those moments where either you face a large number of enemies or even worse, you find yourself in a section of the game where ammo and money is limited. You won't often run out of ammo, but you will run low at times. This creates a necessity to become proficient in both power and weapon usage, as well as requiring updating and improving these things as you progress. Weapons can be upgraded through "Power to the People" stations spread throughout the game while powers are upgraded by acquiring ADAM - the source of powers.

You gain ADAM by running into Little Sisters - genetically altered young girls conditioned to run around Rapture reclaiming ADAM from corpses of splicers.  First though, you must fight their accompanying Big Daddy. Big Daddies are tough enemies that serve as impromptu bosses, basically. They're powerful and intimidating. Fortunately, they won't attack you unless you provoke them, so you can plan ahead. Still, you often find a need for ADAM. At the start, Big Daddies are extremely tough. They do become more manageable as you upgrade and garner more experience. The small, enclosed spaces can make it tricky at times. Dodging a quick charge from one can easily end poorly given the tight corridors.

The narrative is one that unfolds through exploration. As you move through Rapture, you get contacted by characters over the radio who give you insight into the world. There aren't really cut scenes, and most of the narrative unfolds in real time in a completely non-disruptive way. You don't have to stop or slow down while listening to the radio like in some games (*cough* Gears of War).

The story itself is quite poignant. One of Ryan's catchphrases is, "A man chooses. A slave obeys." This is the central theme. Being a game, it often feels like you have a choice. You can go run off over here, or you can go explore over there. You can ambush those splicers, or you can try to avoid them. You can harvest Little Sisters for more ADAM now, or save them in hopes of getting greater rewards later. Gaming inherently makes it feel like you're making all these little choices. In the end though, you are always following a path. At the start, you are just following Atlas, a man who seems to be the only thing not wanting to kill you. By the big plot twist, you're simply following instructions from Tenenbaum, a woman responsible for the creation of Little Sisters who is suffering from extreme guilt and looking for redemption.

In the end, no matter how much "choice" a video game might give you, you are ultimately following a guided path. BioShock - one of the most "meta" games out there - loves to point that out. Your character, Jack, even has chains tattooed on both his wrists. He is forever shackled to the world of Rapture, no matter what.

Even more than just being a somewhat meta commentary on gaming in general, it also frames it around some very real world political philosophies. Ryan leaves the surface world and builds his own because he is sick of the government taking people's hard earned money and spreading it to those less fortunate (or as he puts it, the "leeches"). Rapture functions as almost a temple to Ayn Rand. The basic idea is that only the best and brightest can enter - except for those lowly folks willing to do the manual labor of actually constructing his city. Then, it's just a true laissez-faire system. No government is really in place, so there's no tax and no social welfare programs.

"No gods or kings. Only man" reads a giant sign behind a statue of Ryan as you arrive in Rapture. This is a place where no one is constrained by someone else. "...where the artist would not fear the censor; where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality; where the great would not be constrained by the small!" Basically, he's arguing that the social consciousness is bad for the individual; it holds us back. One can interpret this back into the commentary about traveling on someone else's path. We are each individuals and walk our own way, but at the same time we exist in a larger society. 

As one might imagine, things go pretty poorly. One cannot simply overlook that one lives in a society. One works in a society. One makes money by participating in a society. And so by ignoring this, Rapture becomes home to a massive social upheaval, where the increasing number of have-nots are fighting back against the haves. Further, the science loosed with no restraint leads to the abduction and genetic manipulation of young girls for the sake of exploiting ADAM. This creates an uproar as well. Again, Ryan's ideals aren't quite applicable in the real world. He encouraged scientific progress at all cost, free of moral implications, and yet in the end, those ethical failures lead to greater kickback from the people. Additionally, Ryan finds himself at odds with his ideals, often resulting in violent and aggressive regulation to enforce his society, which is supposed to be built on a lack of it. He actually winds up turning into an oppressive dictator, himself becoming the censor that artists have to fear (as evident by his public executions of reporters who criticized him). There are many political themes in the game, and there are many ways to interpret them, which is a huge reason why the game is so great.

Not everything in the game is great, of course. BioShock isn't without its flaws. Hacking security bots and safes is a cool element, but the way to hack them is strange. The game gets interrupted with a game of Pipe Dream, which is fun, but feels pretty out of place. The final boss similarly feels tonally misguided. For a game built on many non-traditional design elements, it does seem jammed in there to make it more of a video game. The morality system is also a bit overly simplistic and reductionist.

Otherwise, the game hits almost exclusively high notes. The environment is so well developed that you wind up getting sucked in almost immediately. It's an eerie atmosphere, only made stronger by its old time jazz soundtrack. It's also nice to have a game that feeds you the story without interrupting the game play - except at moments where the point is to highlight the lack of control you ultimately have. All of the BioShock games are incredible; all are worthy of being considered art. Personally, the first installment was one of the first to really suck me in that badly.

It plays a little slower than modern FPS games, but that's the point. It's a game that plays a bit like a survival horror game as well. All this makes it a truly great game though.

PAPERS, PLEASE (2013)

If I were to describe the basic concept of the critically acclaimed Papers, Please, it would only be fair to think it sounds terribly boring and tedious. The indie game sets the player in the role of an immigration officer, working at a border checkpoint in the fictional country of Arstotzka. The only thing you will do is check people's immigration paperwork and either deny or allow them entry into the country.

The paperwork itself gets progressively more complicated. On the first day (each "day" is a new "level"), it's pretty straight forward. You look at their passports, cross-reference with your guide book to make sure all the information is accurate, and you let them in. If, for example, the passport is expired, or has an illegitimate city of issue, you must deny entry. 

As the game progresses, the requirements increase. Each day begins with a newspaper, wherein you learn about the political climate of this fictional world. Arstotzka endures terrorist attacks, polio outbreaks, and economic sanctions - all of which impact its immigration policy. This results in a constantly shifting standard you must use when processing people coming into the country.  Starting easily enough, it eventually gets to the point where you have to be checking passports, entrance papers, vaccination documentations, ID cards, and keeping your eye on a Most Wanted Criminals list too. If a person's appearance is different than it appears on their passport or ID card, you will have to check finger prints, or - at times - issue full body scans. Basically, there's a lot to do.

All of this is made worse by the fact that you get paid by the properly processed applicant. If you process ten people, for example, you would earn $50 for the day. However, that supposes you processed everyone correctly. If, say, you processed seven of those properly, then you would only earn $35. Most often, I found my mistakes to occur as a result of trying to speedily process people, figuring I did a good enough once-over of their paperwork, and trying to make as much money as possible. Predictably, this resulted in a number of mistakes. 

See, the other part of the gameplay is that at the end of the day, you must allocate your money. You are a government employee, but you aren't paid particularly well. They move you into a nearby apartment, but it's still up to you to pay for rent and food and medicine. It all takes place in December, so heat is also a concern. You're not only charged with protecting the country's border; you also must take care of your family. Often, you are put in a position where you must choose between paying for food or paying for heat. Family members getting sick is inevitable as well, and you won't want to put off buying medicine for too long. They will die pretty quickly if you don't! If processing people quickly and correctly wasn't stressful enough, you then have to make decisions about whether to go hungry for a day or two, or go cold and sick for a day or two. 

Characters you process will give you opportunities to make more money. Some fellow guards will offer you payment for detaining applicants, since they also get paid per person they hold. Other entrants will try to bribe you as well. The tricky thing about it all is that every time you incorrectly process someone, you get a citation from the government. At one point, one of the other guards offers to pay you a good amount for letting in the woman he loves, who is coming from another country without proper paperwork. If you do that, you make more money, but you will be issued a citation. After accruing enough citations, you will be imprisoned, so you really need to be careful.

It's that complicated sense of morality that makes the game so truly compelling. It's really hard to feel like a good person as you're denying a woman fleeing an oppressive government, desperate for refuge, because she doesn't have the proper paperwork. You could let her in and save her life, but that means you take a citation, and you have your own family to think about. There are many situations like that throughout the game where you want nothing more than to help those people, but maybe you already have a couple citations and you just can't afford to take that chance yourself. 

In fact, I would argue that Papers, Please does more for morality in gaming than any of those other classic games that utilize a morality system, like Mass Effect. There is no clear cut sense of being a "good guy" or a "bad guy." You are just a person trying to make it through this too. In order to ensure your own survival and freedom, as well as your family's, you must make moral sacrifices. This isn't a perfect world. In that sense, the choices you are forced to confront are more organic, and more complex. 

Papers, Please features twenty possible endings, depending on how far you get, and what choices you make. For example, if you make enough mistakes early on, you will be arrested. If you get to your audit (which is about thirty days in) and it is revealed that you let in some known terrorists - even if they had all their paperwork in order - you will be arrested and hanged for treason. Similarly, how your family fairs depends on how you spend your money. My third time through, I managed to keep everyone alive, but I myself was executed. 

At times, it feels a bit like the game is specifically rigged. It didn't dawn on me until late in the game that I should have denied those members of the mysterious EZIC group, looking to take down the (almost certainly) fascist dictatorship of Arstotzka. But a couple of them had the proper paperwork, and I didn't think I could take the citation. Of course, then I felt strange about that! Am I that weak of a person that my own government can scare me into doing things I am morally against, or fighting for what I actually believe in?  There are also a few moments where scripted events force you to take a citation, regardless. That can be frustrating, but all serves the greater purpose of the game.

There have been some who criticized the gameplay for being too tedious, but that sort of misses the point. Being tedious is the point, and is what creates some of the tenseness of the game. As I mentioned earlier, most of my mistakes came from trying to process people quickly, which is hard to do when you've got five or six different things you need to check. That doesn't happen if the gameplay is super streamlined and efficient. As strange as it is to say, feeling a bit like a tough job is part of the appeal of the game. It speaks to the difficult nature of immigration policy and the people who work those jobs. By the end of the game, I was just drained from the work itself, as well as the dehumanizing nature of it. 

All of that makes Papers, Please one of the most poignant and surprisingly powerful games I've ever played. It's not a hard game to learn, but it's a challenging game to play. I don't like to score things in my write-ups, and I try to avoid saying things like, "You should check this game out!" But, I do think this is a game that even non-gamers should check out. 

It feels especially important now...

Random Encounters Episode 31

We watched the original trilogy a few weeks ago, so it only seemed fair to force ourselves to watch the prequels too. Are they really as bad as people say? Are they as bad as we remember? (Spoiler: Absolutely.)

Plus, some thoughts on the Jessica Jones trailer, leaked Dr. Strange images, and the Warcraft trailer. Also sprung a game on Dave called "Is this a Star Wars thing?" seeing if he can identify between real Star Wars EU stories and elements, and totally made up stuff. 

Archived Link:

The Swapper (2013)

The Swapper is a puzzle game in the same vein as Portal, only forgoing humor and instead going with a more mysterious, darker narrative.

You control one of the last surviving crew members of the spaceship Theseus as you explore the giant ship, piecing together what happened there. You're also trying to track down another mysterious survivor. To get through the ship, you must solve puzzles and collect orbs, which then unlock certain areas of the ship with more puzzles. Where Portal utilizes the orange and blue portals, The Swapper has you solve problems with clones. Using a gun called a "swapper," you can create up to four clones of yourself, with the ability to transfer your consciousness into any one clone.

Each clone moves in concert with whichever body has the consciousness. If you move one avatar left, all the clones move to the left at equal pace. Jump? Then so does everyone else! (Something that's easy to forget when trying to place clones on switches.) The puzzles often include different kinds of lights. Red lights block your ability to "swap with" a clone. Blue lights prevent you from creating clones, though you can swap with them. Indigo lights shut down both abilities. Many puzzles have you try to figure out how to place your clones on switches that then shut off said lights and allow you to grab the orb. You can "reclaim" clones by running into them or getting them killed - something worth remembering in later puzzles - or by running through special white lights that call all the clones back.

Some of the puzzles - especially late - are extremely challenging. They do a good job building up your confidence and skill, but throw in a good number of very difficult puzzles to solve. From my experience, they ranged from taking two minutes to solve to over an hour. There was even one puzzle in particular that I simply could not figure out, and after a few days of trying an hour at a time, I reluctantly conceded to look it up online. Even then, it took me a while to truly grasp the solution! So unless you're super smart, you should be prepared to become stumped.

The story is conveyed through occasional and brief scenes where a woman across the room talks to you, or she speaks to you over the radio. More insight to what had happened is revealed through data terminals you can access throughout the ship, as well as by running into special rocks that evidently have highly functioning brain power that telepathically conveys messages to you. Narrative is revealed through exploration of the ship - almost similarly to how audio logs and radio messages do so in BioShock - while keeping you in control as much as possible.

The Swapper tackles one of the more interesting themes about clones. For most of the game, you don't think much of the cloning process. By the end, you're left wondering which clone is really you? Is it really you if you're creating a new body and transmitting your consciousness into it? What even makes you "you" to begin with? Is the consciousness, the soul? Do you lose a bit of it each time you swap? These are questions that never get answered, and perhaps you can't truly answer them anyway.

The game is challenging, fun, and engaging. It was released to much critical acclaim and with good reason. It has its own unique charm, and there are awesome puzzle and level designs (it's pretty fun and unique when you find yourself without gravity, forced to use the swapper device to propel yourself through space, or when you find yourself in places where vents can cause your clones to stand upside down on the ceiling). Reasonably priced for $10-$15, I don't know that I can recommend it enough! It fast became one of my favorites in a while.

Although, one must be patient. It's definitely harder than Portal games.

Never Alone (2014)

We all have our favorite educational video games. Number Crunches, Math Blasters, and of course, Oregon Trail are among some of the best of this category, complete with a nostalgia-driven cult fan bases. But at some point, it seems like we don't want our games to get too education-driven.

Enter Never Alone (Kisima Ingitchuna). An all ages game, it plays fairly simply. It's a side scrolling platform puzzle game that doesn't really overdo it with elements of either. Overall, the puzzles are very easy, and the platforming itself isn't too difficult either. The biggest challenges often involve trying to aim your sling properly, or fighting the slide that occurs when you land.

The controls can be a little clunky at times, but there isn't much to it. You pretty much just jump, switch to the other character, jump some more, and aim your sling. That last bit can get a little frustrating. To aim, you must rotate the right analogue stick. The sensitivity is a bit strong, so finding the sweet spot can be a pain.

In each level, the player controls two characters, although when playing single player, you control one at a time. You switch back and forth between Nuna, or her spirit fox companion. On the most part, Nuna will be your primary character, especially in one of the many chase sequences. The fox is great for getting other spirits within the environment to help, which largely just entails dragging new platforms around so Nuna can hop on it.  Alternatively, you could get a friend to play co-op with you, wherein one person plays as Nuna and the other as the fox.

In terms of game play, it's really simple. The level designs are also pretty basic. If you do decide to check out Never Alone, it's worth keeping in mind that this is a game designed to be played by a wide range of age groups. Kids should be able to complete it. For adults, it isn't much of a challenge. Being a platform puzzle game can make that feel really frustrating, but it isn't really the point of it.

See, Never Alone was developed by the first game developer company owned by indigenous people in the United States. At the end of the day, the game is meant to be a way to share the culture of the Inupiaq (i-nyu-PE-ak) people - a native tribe in Alaska. The story of the game is told by elders of the community, and features a fair amount of folklore.

At certain intervals within the story, players unlock videos. Most of them are only about a minute or two, and are presented as documentary-style videos of Inupiaq individuals putting cultural context behind an element of the story. By and large, the use of these videos is superb. Keeping them short means that players won't feel frustrated by having to watch a video, but they're also informative and adds to the story. The content of the videos match what is happening in the story, allowing players to feel both entertained and educated.

Personally, my big takeaway is that more games should do this. Imagine if Call of Duty used brief educational videos about World War II, or used interviews with veterans during load screens, or even just as unlockable rewards. Yes, those games often use actual footage from the war, but it provides no real context. Never Alone made me wish that Call of Duty started each mission with a few talking heads of real life veterans, Band of Brothers style.

The art style is a beautiful mix of cartoonish and the stylized look of scrimshaw. This adds to the "cute" factor of the game, enhanced even more by playing as a young girl and a spirit fox. It all ties into a rather compelling tale, one in which the least expected person makes the greatest difference. Overall, few educational games have managed to seamlessly integrate informative elements in with the story. Like most educational games though, the mechanics maybe do fall into the backseat a bit more than it should.

It's a solid little game for all ages that doesn't do the game stuff super well, but does some of the educational things really well. No element of it is "bad," by any means. It's cute and innocent with a lovely art style. All in all, it's worth checking out.

Dan Solo Episode 5 - Dexter Vs. Breaking Bad Finales

Yes yes, I know. Super late to the conversation. To be honest, I kind of forgot all about these shows. But recently I was involved in a rehash of this conversation from a few years ago, and then I was listening to old Cracked podcast episodes and this came up. So I got to thinking about them again. Why is Dexter's finale so maligned, and Breaking Bad's is so well received? Is the former really so bad, and is the latter really so great? Super late, but I weigh in. And yes, I'm without question in the minority here.

As always, there are some big spoilers. Listen at your own risk!





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Kingdom Hearts II (2005)

One of the first things to notice in Kingdom Hearts II is the smoothed out controls. Right off the bad, it feels more comfortable. Ditching the left trigger/right trigger camera control of the first game in favor of the right analog stick, it feels a lot more normal and modern. Additionally, combat includes a new reaction feature. When attacking certain enemies, a triangle prompt might appear, allowing for a new quick attack. It spices up the battles even though it's a small thing. Additionally, it's nice that they decided to have triangle be the "open chest/save" button now.

You will also notice that the game makes absolutely no sense. It opens with a new character, Roxas, and his group of friends in Twilight Town. Occasionally, he dreams flashbacks of the first game, but otherwise, there's no real information on what has happened with Sora, Goofy, and Donald, who were last seen heading on their way to find Riku and King Mickey. It turns out that Roxas is a Nobody made from when Sora was turned into a Heartless. After a few hours of hanging around, doing literal chores, and moving from cryptic cutscene to cutscene, you eventually learn that Sora has been asleep for some time and are ready to awaken.

If it feels like you're missing a pretty critical piece of the story, don't worry. You are. It turns out that Kingdom Hearts II isn't so much the sequel to Kingdom Hearts as much as it is to the Gameboy Advance game Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories. That's right, they released a game that continues the story of the first one, on a totally different platform. If you didn't own a GBA, the beginning of KH2 can really drag. It's boring, long, and makes no sense.

Apart from being extremely cryptic, it also drags. The cutscenes last too long and there are far too many of them. Battles are very stop and go, with one-and-done battles to give you a sense of the controls. However, the problem is that they're over before you even really get to experience it. If the beginning of the game is supposed to give you a moment to learn the controls, it helps to actually let you play the game.

Eventually, the game does take off and the adventure truly begins.  When it finally lets you play the game, and remembers what made Kingdom Hearts fun, it's still fun. Definitely more heavy on exposition, and this time made worse by its overly convoluted story, but it still features mostly fun gameplay. A welcome addition is different forms. Now as you battle, you charge up a new meter that allows you to change. Each form grants different advantages. That, too, spices it up. 

In terms of combat, much has been ironed out, but it isn't all perfect. In addition to the new quick commands activated with the triangle button, you can now join powers in limit break attacks. Yeah, sounds fun, huh? Kind of cool, right? Well, except that the prompt shows up whenever your allies get close enough, and to activate it is also triangle! This gets extremely frustrating at times. Several boss fights require the quick commands, and you will waste a lot of MP accidentally using limit breaks instead because it's the same button.

Boss fights can be quite frustrating. Not so much in that sometimes they are chalk full of unfair nonsense; rather, they go out of their way to change up the gameplay constantly for each fight. If the combat is what makes Kingdom Hearts fun, it doesn't make much sense why at the most challenging times, it completely mixes it up. So much is going on sometimes, you'll spend most of the fight wondering, "What is happening? What am I doing exactly? Oh...there's no block button?"

Part of the problem with Kingdom Hearts in general is that as great as the worlds might be, it's pretty boring just reenacting the movies. Sure, it gets more interesting once you can return to those worlds and the Kingdom Hearts story takes precedence. Until then, trucking through each world's story is boring and tedious. For whatever reason, it just feels even worse in the sequel. Maybe part of it is that the original story also starts to get to full of itself and collapses under its own weight.

As far as an RPG goes, it doesn't take too long to beat. You're looking at putting in maybe thirty hours. Not bad. However, the game feels so tedious with its constant breaking up of gameplay and gameplay style, its overly complicated, convoluted, and confusing story, and its dragged out exposition and cutscenes that by the end, I was eager to just get it over with. Generally, it's not a good sign when you're at a critical moment of the game and all you can think is, "Who cares? Can this be over now?"

The first game was something of a pleasant surprise. A game that mixes Final Fantasy characters and Disney characters could have easily come off as stupid, and given its appeal to children, it's actually tough enough that it isn't really aimed at them. (Which then sort of begs the question of who was it targeting? Especially after it starts getting super wonky.)

A lot of people like the sequel better. Certainly, there are improved gameplay and combat elements. The ultimate problem is that it doesn't really let you experience combat as frequently as you would like. On Metacritic, Kingdom Hearts II has both a higher Metascore and higher User Score, which means that I'm evidently in the minority. Still, I can't help but feel like this game benefits largely from nostalgia and fanboyism.

None of this is to say that it's a terrible game. Of all the games in my library that I've played in Project Replay (my probably impossible quest to replay and review my entire games library), this is only the second one that I really haven't enjoyed. (The other being Spider-man 2: The Video Game.) It's not as bad as that game, but when all is said and done, I do think that a lot of the design elements of the game are bad, and that the overall experience was very frustrating and lackluster - especially by comparison to the first installment.

But again, take that with a grain of salt given that everyone else seems to love it.