Jessica Jones

Look, I still don't understand why we will never get a Black Widow movie. I still maintain they had the perfect opportunity for it too after Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Think about it. We know Natalia has history with Bucky (or at least, it's implied in the film). She's also part of Cap's team working to locate him after the events of the film. Plus, she's portrayed by Scarlett Johansson, who is one of the world's biggest actresses and had already started in an action film that topped the box office. Access to an actress with known box office draw, plus a story perfectly built in with the means to both explore Black Widow's history and actual character while bringing Bucky back into the fold more fully? You literally can't get a better opportunity than that for your first big female-protagonist work.

Jessica Jones is the first relevant female-lead effort from Marvel Studios, really. (Sorry, Agent Carter isn't really relevant to the current MCU.)  She's the first superheroine to get her own thing, and she takes place in the current Marvel universe. Though she doesn't really connect much to the other events, it's still a big deal that she's in this world.

More importantly, while it might be the second show to follow a female character specifically, it's the first of any Marvel Studios work to be helmed by an actual, living, functioning woman. Yes, the talented Maurissa Tancharoen was involved in Agents of SHIELD, but she shares creator credit with Joss and Jed Whedon. Jessica Jones is run and largely written by Melissa Rosenberg.

It's this embracing of a female perspective that makes the show stand out among the rest. Marvel's Netflix stuff is clearly designed for more mature audiences. It's a means to tell more serious stories and get away from the more fun-oriented and easy-going nature of their films and basic cable shows. Tonally, Jessica Jones shares much with its predecessor, Daredevil. They utilize a similar visual style, although Daredevil is visually darker and more noir-like. And there's a level of brutality in both that can be hard to watch.

But Jessica Jones is a show written and directed by a woman, focused on a woman, and dealing with issues largely pertaining specifically to women. At its core, it's still a really solid crime noir story. The mystery unravels at a fluid pace, though it maybe takes a little longer to really pick up than Daredevil. What stands out on this work though is that while the Man Without Fear was utilized to basically just be a cool comic book adaptation (although it's arguably warning against the nasty nature of gentrification - sort of), Jessica Jones tackles larger issues.

Rape, domestic violence, and abusive relationships are the central themes of the story. Everything functions to serve this core. In pushing those elements, choosing Kilgrave as the primary villain is the perfect choice. Better known in comics as the Purple Man, Kilgrave has the ability to command people to do his bidding. If he tells you to do something, you have no choice. He can basically mind-control you. Inherently, you can see a connection between that power and, say, drugging women.

So much of Jessica's struggle is breaking away from Kilgrave's control - an obvious parallel to abusive relationships. In the real world, people often shrug it off by just saying, "If he's bad to her, why doesn't she just leave him?" Well, it's not usually mind-control, but a lot of times, it's a lot more complicated than that. Even Jessica's best friend/sort of sister Trish deals with this a bit with her quasi-boyfriend Simpson. Both women, at some point, just want to get away from this guy who's "bad to her," but they can't.

Even more is the idea that Jessica can't really go to anyone for help. She basically starts off wondering what she's supposed to do. When she finds out Kilgrave is alive and after her again, her initial instinct is to flee. Others suggest she go to the police for help, but she's stuck wondering what that's supposed to do. What, she's supposed to tell them she was raped and abused by a guy using mind-control? Obviously, no one will believe her, not unlike many real life rape victims who often risk being mercilessly scrutinized themselves should they report a rape. There are a bunch of reasons why many women don't step forward to report it. This is manifested in the show through powers.

Given that both Trish and Jessica deal with sleazy, abusive, obsessive men, it would be easy to think of "men" as the villain, but that's not true. (Although I'm sure meninist morons are boycotting it anyway.) Jessica in particular is largely able to grow and overcome with the support of people around her, and that includes the aid of Luke Cage and Malcolm. The show might feature these men who don't understand that no means no as their primary villains, but it also presents other male characters as part of the solution. By all means, the show itself highlights what absolutely never actually needs to be said: "not all men." (The reason that's always annoying is that we already know that! No one has ever accused "all men" of being a problem or of being rapists or abusive or whatever. You don't need to say it. Jessica Jones similarly doesn't go out of its way to depict caring, forgiving, and helpful men. It just does it organically because obviously not all men are the wrost. Duh!)

Outside these surprisingly mature themes, the show is refreshing in its lack of "origin story" elements. To be sure, we do get some origin to the character. Through a series of interestingly composed flashbacks, we do learn a bit more about Jessica's history. Plus, one of the big plot points left hanging by the end of the season is the one involving how she obtained her powers. We even get backstory on her past relationship with Kilgrave.

Yet it's not an origin story. It just starts. Kilgrave has already gone through a period of time controlling Jessica. Jessica has already broken free from his grasp and assumed he was dead, making an effort to rebuild her life after. She already knows who Luke Cage is. She already has powers and uses them occasionally. This is an "origin story" in the sense that it's about her learning to step up as a hero-esque character, but she's already fully in control of her powers.

Jessica herself is one of the more compelling characters in the Marvel cinematic universe. Where most characters are simply pure good, Jessica is a bit more realistic. When she finds out Kilgrave is back, she doesn't immediately strap up to go out hunting him. No, her first reaction is to pack up her stuff and get the hell out of dodge. Sure, she ultimately decides to stay and track him down, but that's not her first reaction. Regularly, she describes this trait of "caring too much" to be a weakness. She's not like all these other heroes like Daredevil or Captain America who just inherently want to do good. She's not like Spider-man in that she inherently believes her powers mean she has responsibilities.

The show also doesn't seem to be full of references to other things. Sure, there are connections or references to the Avengers or other Marvel events, but they don't spend too much time cramming them in there. They also don't waste time stuffing scenes full of Easter Eggs. Yes, you get the lawyer Hogarth - gender swapped for the show (to further the female-centric perspective), but who in the comics, worked for the Rand Corporation. And sure, one of the main secondary characters is Simpson, who - despite the first name being changed - is clearly a D-list villain from the comics.

By and large though, Jessica Jones takes minimal elements of the comic it's based off of. It mimics one of the (few) strengths of The Walking Dead. I've admittedly never understood this about something like Game of Thrones. If you are already familiar with the book, why would you just want to see them copy and paste that story on screen? And if you're not, surely you know the books are out there and you can access them. Why would you want your episodic television shows to literally just do exactly what the book does with minimal changes? Though a pretty terrible show overall, The Walking Dead wisely recognized that the big appeal of the book was in its shocking and unpredictable nature (well, that is, before it got 150 issues in and started creating its own tropes you've come to expect). So, they use some key moments as tent poles, but largely avoid simply doing whatever happened in the book. Jessica Jones does that same thing.

It's probably a good idea to talk about how great the cast is. Krysten Ritter might not physically resemble the character of the comic, but she definitely nails the character. She's that distant, hard drinking, no nonsense woman from the book. Carrie-Anne Moss does a solid job as the cold and scheming lawyer Jeri Hogarth. Eka Darville is plays a compelling Malcolm, who goes from drug addict informant for Kilgrave to brave social worker trying to help the people who have also been controlled by Kilgrave. Wil Traval is fine as Will Simpson, but I keep thinking they should have just gotten Troy Baker.

But of course, you have to talk about David Tennant as Kilgrave, and Kilgrave as a villain overall. Funny thing is that Tennant sounds like one of the sweetest, nicest guys in the business. There's a reason he's been honored with a lot of awards in British television. He's great. Here, he plays a slimy, manipulative, heartless bastard that you just hate. It's natural to compare his villain to that of Wilson Fisk from Daredevil. It's a little unfair because they're different shows with different agendas, but it's hard to argue that Kilgrave isn't near the top of best Marvel villains so far (granted, not a tough feat to accomplish, really).

The thing I found most interesting about Kilgrave is that he isn't just a guy who knows he's powerful and doesn't care to abuse it. Sure, he doesn't care that he abuses it, but he's manipulative in other ways too. He's clearly an intelligent guy. It was always neat seeing that he doesn't always have to use his power to control you. He controls Malcolm by turning him into a drug addict and then promising drugs in return for snapshots of Jessica. And he twists his tongue and words a lot to avoid responsibility and culpability. For example, when Jessica calls him out for making her murder someone, he casually points out that he just told her to, "Take care of her." He notes that he never said anything about killing anyone.

He does this a lot. To the end, he denies having ever murdered anyone, even though he's told people to do things like jump off a building or kill themselves. He didn't kill them, he insists. They did. Even when you get his backstory and start to feel weirdly bad for him, it turns out later that most of what he said was a lie, or rather, an incomplete version of the story. Kilgrave is able to manipulate the audience just as badly as he can twist others. Kingpin was interesting in the way that he wasn't a pure bad guy and that, even though he did horrible things, you could at least see what he is trying to do, and what he's going for ultimately isn't "evil." Kilgrave is interesting in the way that he plays with words and how he often comes off as something of an immature child - which makes sense given he never really had a normal childhood, so he kind of is stuck in this juvenile mental state.

Even the reveal that he's obsessed with Jessica because he's in love with her is smart. Look, I can't blame anyone for finding that motivation to be cheesy and oversimplified, but it really fits the character and matches the function of the narrative. If Kilgrave is stuck in a rather childish mental state, then it makes sense that he would become obsessive over this woman. Plus, it totally fits in with the greater themes of the show. It would have clashed more if the show had been all about rape and abusive relationships, then have the main villain simply trying to control Jessica because he knows about her powers. Sure, domestic violence and rape is often about exerting power. It's not usually about expanding it. It might not be as complex a motive as Kingpin's was in Daredevil, but it fits perfectly with the themes and tone of Jessica Jones. 

Things aren't perfect, of course. I found that powers are sort of ambiguous. Jessica can hold a speeding car in place by holding it, or punch through brick walls, but she gets knocked out pretty easily. This has been a common point of contention. I agree it's kind of unclear - although that also matches the books - but I don't necessarily find those two points that unusual. If super strength comes from actively flexing your muscle, then it stands to reason that does not inherently translate to super durability. It's kind of like how competitors in the World's Strongest Man competitions can pull tractor trailer trucks with their legs, but they can get knocked out if you slam a plank into their head. You can't exactly flex your head muscles to absorb the impact.

However, I did find Kilgrave's powers a little unclear. They try to explain how it works by saying he emits some sort of virus that gets in your brain when you're nearby, which allows him to dictate what you do on command. But, that's kind of a strange explanation that doesn't really make sense, even with comic book logic. The rules of how it works aren't particularly consistent either. Sometimes, the powers only work when he issues a command. Suggestions and questions and casual statements sometimes don't result in the controlled person doing what he says. So sometimes it's implied that Kilgrave's inflection is the cause of the power. Sometimes it's implied that it's simply the words that hold the power.

The whole virus thing is strange too because they go back and forth on whether he needs to be actually nearby for it to work. He definitely needs to be near you to get the initial order into your brain, but then it seems like the virus is just there and he can go wherever the hell he wants and his powers are still in effect. This is evident when Hope kills her parents, or Simpsons tries to kill Trish. They never specifically state that Kilgrave was actually in those buildings at the time of these attacks, which implies that once the order or virus is in your brain, you can't stop until you do it. Yet the conclusion is to kill Kilgrave, and somehow that breaks the spell on everyone he's controlling. But...why would the virus stop affecting them? If Kilgrave doesn't need to be near people for it to work, why would killing him change anything?

Additionally, Jessica's powers look a little goofy on screen. The action gets better by the end, but it is a lot choppier and less fluid. A lot have compared it to Daredevil's action, but that's unfair. Matt Murdoch had ninja and boxing training. He is a trained martial artist. Jessica Jones is not. She's relied purely on her powers for fighting. She hasn't been trained, so it's only reasonable that her fighting style is almost jarringly undisciplined and unpredictable. The problem comes with when she uses powers though. The way she leaps, or lifts heavy objects, or throws people around looks like low budget television sometimes.

The show concludes with one of the most unpredictable finales. Left feeling like there were no alternatives, Jessica straight up snaps Kilgrave's neck to kill him, a la Man of Steel. The main difference is that A) Jessica Jones wasn't presented as having the power to save everyone and B) she's not flipping Superman and doesn't hold the same strict moral principles! Many have commented on this by saying there was really no other way for it to go. Kilgrave was presented as too powerful, and how else would Jessica have resolved it? I disagree with the idea that there were no alternatives. Surely, the writers could have figured out a way around this and presented other options. Jessica was even pretty close at containing him throughout the show. What I appreciate about this ending is that it really did feel like there were no other options. It felt like Kilgrave was too powerful. Though I disagree with people who've said this, it does suggest that the audience felt similar to Jessica.

Either way, it's a sharp contrast to what we see in the movies, where the good guys don't kill. (Well, they do, actually. Kind of a lot. But it's never presented as obvious killing. Even Tony Stark killing Obadiah Stane in Iron Man doesn't feel like Stark straight up murdered that guy, even though he basically did.)

The show ends as it begins: with a shocking scene in context of Marvel products. When Jessica Jones: Alias kicked off Marvel's Max imprint, the first panel featured Jessica screaming, "Fuck!" in giant, bold letters. Uncensored. This was huge! Marvel was producing a book that had uncensored F-bombs! We had never seen anything like this before! This established right away that this was not an all ages book. This was going to be different.

Jessica Jones begins similarly, only instead of the F-bomb, we get a sex scene. Quick: count on your fingers how many sex scenes you've seen in a Marvel movie? Trick question. There are none. There's actually a fair amount of sex scenes in the show. Again, this is how it opens, letting everyone know right away that this isn't your Captain America or Iron Man movie. The show ends similarly, with Jessica straight up killing Kilgrave, further cementing that this isn't like your typical Marvel movie.


Overall, while not perfect, Jessica Jones stands out from the rest of the pack, including Daredevil. I think I might have liked Daredevil a tad more, Jessica Jones seemed substantially more ambitious thematically, and that is what I appreciated the most. It took a little while for me to be fully "hooked" to the point of marathoning the rest, but it might be more consistent overall. It features a better conclusion that its predecessor, at least.

I'm really excited to see more from Marvel's Netflix stuff, and it will be awesome to see Jessica and Luke continue to grow their relationship.

The Last of Us: The Quarantine Zone Part 1: Robert and the Real Tutorial

Given that there's a twenty year gap between the events of the prologue and the main story, there's a lot of stuff that happens. Rather than spending too much time really delving into it through many exposition dumps and drawn out cutsenes, much of the pertinent information is thrown in during the opening credits. Through a series of news reports, we find out the basics of the world we're about to inhabit. A fungal infection has spread at a rapid rate, turning its hosts into mindless zombies, essentially. We also get some political history, with the news also reporting on government and military responses, as well as the emergence of the Fireflies, a group of people who feel the government has been brutal in the name of "safety."

That's it. That's all we get. We don't find out much more in detail because it doesn't really matter. All we need to know is the world we find ourselves in. There will be nuggets of backstory throughout the game, but a big chunk of what makes Joel and the world so intriguing is that it retains some sense of mystery. We don't know what Joel has been through, but we can form some idea. It's a perfect example of how sometimes, less is more in fiction.

Now controlling Joel, whose introduction here is not too different than Sarah's (wakes up, gets out of bed, and stumbles around for a moment), we're given our introductory mission. Long story short, we have to track down this guy Robert. Again, the level eases us into things, giving us a low-stakes means to get a grasp on the movement and camera controls. Walking and looking around the Boston quarantine zone gives us more of an idea as to what has been happening in the past twenty years. This itself informs the player that taking the time to explore these environments will yield narrative results. This section also introduces us to optional conversations. 

There are conversations you overhear just exploring, but this section also introduces us to our first optional interactive one, also reminding us that the triangle button is our key to interacting with the world around us.

This section in the quarantine zone is a more full tutorial section, introducing more complex gameplay elements, including combat, stealth, listening, and using items. As such, it makes sense that the player is not "in charge" from a narrative perspective. Just like the prologue, Joel is following. This time, he's following his (probably) girlfriend Tess, who is quickly established as a tough chick who can hold her own. She's the leader here. You're just following her. This allows for a tutorial that might be a tad clunky to blend in with the narrative side of things. While the text prompts are a bit disruptive to the gameplay, at least the tutorial bits don't clash jarringly with the story, maximizing the immersion.

When you go through the tunnels, preparing to go outside the QZ, the game also establishes another reality: supplies will be limited. As Joel picks up his backpack and checks his firearm, he makes a comment about how there is not a lot of ammo left, which causes Tess to suggest he make his shots count. Though just a passing, slightly humorous line, it informs the player what time of game this is going to be. Not a straight up survival horror, it does lift elements from it. Limiting supplies, especially ammunition, goes a long way to increasing tension and suspense in the player as they progress through levels. 

Right after that, they introduce another reality: cooperation. To advance, Joel must give Tess a boost, then wait for Tess to help him up too. It's a cooperative game from start to finish, but your partner is going to be an AI. The player has no say here, which has its pros and cons. Really, this moment just establishes that you are always going to be working in tandem with another character.

A good chunk of this early section highlights one of the more interesting and compelling elements of the game. While the action and stealth moments are typically the "fun" part, and the most traditional game moments, they are careful to always provide some lulls. This is critical in keeping dynamic pacing, as well as allowing the players to breath. The designers clearly recognize the value in being able to stop and smell the roses, and that's exactly what they do throughout. 

The first house you enter after finding the later throws in a few resources and artifacts to collect. The maps are expertly crafted, always careful to be open enough that it encourages looking around, but small enough that you won't get lost or distracted from your destination. This isn't an open world game, and it's focus is on the characters and story, so it needs to be careful and find that balance. Including a few side rooms in the first house is an example of that. Nothing too crazy; just a couple of rooms. Yet it encourages the player to take a look rather than just moving straight to the next waypoint.

Worth noting the rapport between Joel and Tess. Given how cold he comes off to strangers, it seems a bit unusual to see him joking around with Tess. This sets up that Joel is cautious, but if you can get close to him, he's just a normal person. He'll defend you and joke with you and even do what you tell him to do. He's cooperative and friendly, but it's primarily because the two clearly have a relationship.

Being this section is also the real tutorial, they make it a point to present scenarios that force you to use other controls. For example, you have to move a couple of objects (reminding you that you can interact with some things), you'll have to crouch, then shimmy to advance. Once they put the finishing touches on the slightly more complex movements, they introduce combat. 

Your first encounter with infected in terms of gameplay teaches you how to hone your listening (which helps keep track of them when you can't see them), then teaches you how to sneak up. This section is specifically telling the player about the value of stealth and caution. The first infected is set up so that he is easy to take down quietly. The other two infected are there to offer a fight should you get careless and create a lot of noise. The map is also a bit disorienting, and if you're not careful, you can draw their attention and find yourself in a fistfight with infected.  After that, you're once again treated to a lull, giving you a chance to breathe.

We also get our introduction to planks. Every once in a while, The Last of Us tries to pull off some puzzles, but largely they just require moving a plank. The puzzles in the game are not terribly exciting. In fact, they often come off as a waste of time. This is one of the elements that can sometimes break immersion by standing out as more "gamey" elements. 

It can't be understated the value in dialogue that occurs in gameplay. Tess and Joel talk to each other, and to others around them, but the game doesn't get interrupted to do so. They walk and talk, allowing you to continue to look around and actually play the game while the game fills in some character and story elements at the same time. Cutsenes are used to hammer home emotional moments or for to enhance subtlety of character or story beats. The designers recognize they have to walk a fine line between keeping control in the player's hands while also being able to deliver critical story moments. By and large, they're successful at finding this balance.

The next bit of action runs opposite to the infected. Now, you're fighting Robert's men, where the game forces you into a shootout. Where the first bit was supposed to emphasis the value of stealth, this first encounter with Robert's men emphasizes shootouts and fighting. Though many sections of the game allow for one style or the other, leaving it up to the player, there will be moments throughout where you have to take up one style. There will be shootouts and action-oriented moments, just as there will be sections where you're vastly outnumbered and staying hidden is key. This brief introduction is a little sloppy though. For starters, Tess tells you to try and flank them using cover, but it's not uncommon for the AI to follow you. If Tess follows you, it defeats the point of the flanking maneuver. Instead of having Tess keep their focus while you wrap around, it sometimes winds up simply drawing their attention somewhere else.  As a result, it can cause skepticism in the dependability of your AI team mate. 

After though, the game throws you in full. You've learned the value of sneaking. You've learned how to handle yourself in a firefight. Now, they present you with player's choice. Dealing with more of Robert's crew, they provide you with a large map and a variety of ways to approach it. In my view, it more encourages stealth, especially the first bit where they teach you about throwing bottles and bricks as distractions. It's worth taking that analysis with a grain of salt because I prefer stealth-based games in the first place. Any time I'm given an option of stealth, I try to take it, so as a player, I'm more naturally inclined to go that route either way.

One of my favorite moments here involves hiding behind a crate with Tess as two thugs pass. One of them is talking about how you guys are on your way, warning the rest of the men to be careful. He makes a comment about Tess took out two men. If you're paying attention, you can see Tess look at Joel and give a little shrug. It's great! It's that kind of subtlety that gets accomplished in those brief moments where they take away player control. (You can't move at that point, though you can look around with the camera, so be careful not to miss it!)

The docks encourage stealth, but make it open enough that it's actually pretty challenging to take everyone out quietly. Odds are, you'll have to learn to adjust your strategy on the fly and recover from costly mistakes. This segment is great at presenting the fact that it's ultimately your choice on how you want to play through most levels. Certainly, it's one of the strengths of the game, and this section also demonstrates how carefully and intelligently created the maps are. Big and open with enough cover, all of this provides the player with options. 

This section concludes when you find Robert, to which Tess ruthlessly kills him. Turns out, he's taken the guns he owes you and sold them to the Fireflies. Marlene, the leader of the Fireflies, presents a deal. Run a mission for her, and you get your guns. It's a classic tit for tat device found in almost every single video game ever. This is where the game truly begins. 

The Good, The Bad, The Weird (2008)

You ever rent a movie that you've never heard of before and it looks kind of odd, then within the first ten minutes you're online buying it?  There have been a few of those for me, but none more immediate than The Good, The Bad, The Weird. It's a Korean western that takes place in 1940s Manchuria in the middle of the Japanese occupation. It's filled with awesome action scenes, but it's also an incredibly well acted movie with three very memorable characters.

First of all, I can't speak highly enough of Kang-ho Song. Here, he plays "the Weird," Yoon Tae-goo, a train robber who is more bumbling and less smooth in action sequences than his counterparts. The guy is comedy gold, and not with over the top comedy bits. It's a unique, subtle kind of action comedy. It's almost shades of Jackie Chan - only more with gunplay instead of martial arts. But, Tae-goo has a bit of a dark history. Turns out, he's not as simple and likable as we originally thought (it's not necessarily a huge plot changing reveal, but I won't spoil it either way).

Then, there's Woo-Sung Jung's role of "the Good." Park Do-won is a bounty hunter chasing down the notorious Finger Chopper. Do-won isn't so much "good" as much as he is "not bad." He spends most of the movie paired up with Tae-goo. The way that he deals with Tae-goo is really amusing, and again, it's a more subtle style. When a tied up Tae-goo manages to escape Do-won's shack only to stumble onto Do-won and his family, he lies to say that the hook he was tied to just came out. Do-won, obviously knowing what really happened, casually just responds with, "Ok." It's subtle, but amusing. That's how he plays the character throughout the entire movie. Of course, he's also cool for the most awesome (and least efficient) way to reload a rifle.

Though Tae-goo is my favorite character, the real gem of this flick is in Byung-hung Lee's villain, Park Chang-yi. This guy is an awesome villain. Chang-yi is kind of an evil rock star. He looks like he comes straight from a K-Pop boy band with the hair swept over one eye, but he's got scars on his face and kills for the smallest of reasons. He is a trained assassin and is highly skilled. In one of the most over the top (but totally awesome) sequences, he wakes up to find a centipede crawling up the far wall. He throws his knife to kill it, impaling the bug. Then, just to prove a point, he pulls out his pistol and fires three shots at the knife to hammer it in deeper. That pretty much tells you all you need to know about him.

The movie begins with an incredible train robbing sequence. After the initial sequence, which is such a high point, it's easy to imagine that there's nowhere to go from here but down. Well, you'd be wrong in this case! Director Jee-woon Kim is careful to include breathing points: you don't want to tire out the audience too much. Yet he also makes sure there's plenty of action. The train robbing scene is great, but let's not forget the incredible battle in that town - which, man, what an awesome set. And, of course, it features the largest, craziest, most awesome chase sequence at the end ever (that is, until Mad Max: Fury Road came out)!

It all comes down to a Mexican stand off among Tae-goo, Do-won, and Chang-yi. It's another kind of over the top sequence, but it kind of feels like a loving nod to the Western genre (which a lot of the movie is, but with the unique Korean flare). I won't spoil it, but it's definitely a cool scene.

In the end, the treasure gold or diamonds. It wound up being a hot spot for oil. After the Mexican standoff, the geyser erupts to show us all the oil that was there. Suddenly, we realize why that map was so valuable. The Bank (who hired Chang-yi to steal it) wanted it because they knew how valuable oil was from a long term financial perspective. The Japanese Army wanted it because they knew how valuable oil was for their war effort. The Ghost Market Gang just wanted it because they could sell it for a lot of money and quick. Everyone except our main characters know why the map is valuable.  Really, it's not about the map for any of them. Tae-goo wanted the treasure initially, but Chang-yi was chasing him for revenge while Do-won was chasing them for their bounties. In that way, it is another rather subtle source of comedy that our three main characters have the smallest stake in the map.

The movie is incredibly fun and entertaining. If you like action movies (especially with a Western flare), you should definitely check this movie out. As I said, I fell in love with this movie within the first ten minutes of my first viewing. I've watched it dozens of times since and it never gets old. (This is also one of the movies that makes me feel lucky to work at a movie theater and have access to the screens after hours. I can watch this on the big screen any time!)

Far Cry 3: Blood Dragon (2013)

There doesn't seem to be a particularly large pool of comedy-driven games, but Far Cry 3: Blood Dragon - published as a stand-alone expansion to Far Cry 3 - stands out as one of the best. Apart from it's retro, hyper stylized look and it's great comedy, it also is an extremely fun game to play. Largely it just takes the formula perfected by Far Cry 3, adds a bit of '80s futuristic style to it, and makes a lot of jokes. That's all it needs though.

Players control the cybernetic hero Rex "Power" Colt as he tries to save the world from further destruction after nuclear strikes laid waste just before 2007.  You are assisted by Dr. Darling as you hunt down the former war hero, Colonel Sloan. He's gone crazy and is trying to use the blood of blood dragons to infect human kind with an ailment that turns them into zombie-like creatures referred to as "the running dead." The story unfolds primarily over radio broadcasts with Dr. Darling. When particularly heavy in exposition though, they rely on retro "cutscenes." These videos are made up of SNES-like still images, giving it that old timey feel.

The world is heavily influenced by niche '80s sci-fi action films. Backgrounds are dark and subdued while things in the foreground are often comprised of neon. Everyone wears suits that have glowing bits. Actually, this might be one of the few cases wherein looking at the cover art tells you exactly what you need to know about the game.

All of this is enhanced by its synth-driven score from Powerglove. (Seriously, it's great. Download it!) Meanwhile, the game functions as a bit of a comedy, often mocking many elements commonly found in video games. For example, the tutorial is painstakingly slow and features such dumb and unnecessary directions as, "To look around, look around." If it weren't clear enough the game is making fun of unnecessary tutorials in gaming, Rex Colt spends the entire time complaining about it. He groans, just wanting to get to the game already. There are also collectibles in the game (VHS tapes too), a common trait in open world games especially. Whenever you pick it up, Rex wonders what the hell he's doing, or comments, "At least I'm not collecting flags," a reference to Assassin's Creed and its much maligned flag collecting mission.

The gameplay is fun and very much in the style of your typical Far Cry game or first person shooter in general. You'll still be liberating outposts, only leveling is a lot simpler and more streamlined - one of the other ways it feels retro. Instead of earning skill points that you assign, you just level up and acquire whatever trait is associated with that numerical level. Simple, but straight forward. It's a system typical of older, less complex games.

A nice addition to the Far Cry franchise is the idea of baiting wildlife. While this is a feature of Far Cry 4, it is not a part of Far Cry 3. Indeed, the concept makes its first appearance here, albeit in a smaller fashion. You can't just bait any wildlife to help you, but you can bait blood dragons. These creatures are huge, fast, and deadly beasts that can tear you to shreds with their jaws, or light you up with some kind of laser attack. When they're nearby, it pays to be slow and quiet. However, if there are Omega Force troops around, you can throw a Cybernetic Heart - which you rip out of dead enemies - and draw the blood dragons to them. Though you can only do this when there's a blood dragon around, it's still a lot of fun and adds a nice little element to combat. It was a great little addition, and they improve that a little bit in the following Far Cry game.

Overall, you can pretty much tell right from looking at it if it's something you'd like. Hyper stylized, retro futuristic, and funny, it's just a great, entertaining little game. It's short - the result of being a standalone DLC package rather than its own full length game - but that might be for the best. If it went too long, it may have overstayed its welcome or the joke might have worn off. As it is, that thankfully doesn't happen. But you'll probably know right off the bat if you like it with lines like:

"It's Sloan's bed time, and I'm gonna tuck him in.....under six feet of dirt."

"I'm no hero, Doc. I'm just a regular US Army Mark 4 Cyber Commando."

"Paintings of crying clowns and dogs playing poker: those are incredible. What I did? That's just the job."

"You and me are the same, Rex. We even have the same blue blood!"
"Wrong. My blood is red, white, and blue."

"I swore an oath to a special lady."
"Your...wife?"
"No. Lady Liberty. She taught me that winners...don't do drugs."

"Tell my wife that I died fighting for my country."
"You can tell her that yourself!"

And, of course, when you kill people with a shuriken:
"Sure he can't? Shuriken!"


So, yeah. Pretty fun game! Even the launch trailer was awesome!

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."