In the final parts of Kohn's look at America as nascent nation, he concentrates on major matters for nationhood. Things like education, language and literature. Neatly summed up, it comes down to the fact that there were many people like Noah Webster.
Webster believed that America's best bet was to strike out anew - to create its own language (to Webster, curiously, American English was enough), education system, and literature. When a proponent of something accurately predicts the state of a whole language for the next century, it's fair to say that he can be agreed with.
But, people like Webster faced plenty of opposition from conservative corners in the early years of the union and gradually those who were still concerned about Europe entered the fray. The first decades of the nineteenth century were host to Napoleon and his conquests after all. Kohn mentions nothing about an American fear that they would be next, rather that Americans bristled at the idea of Europe coming under one power, but I imagine there was a mix of the two sentiments at work.
Kohn closes the chapter with further mention of Jefferson and his singular belief in non-denominational agrarian societies. On the former of these two aspects, Kohn gives some attention to where religion stood in early US policy.
This attention is enough to turn up a 1796 treaty between the US and Tripoli that included the statement: "As the United States is not in any sense founded on the Christian religion" (312). Kohn is quick to note that this treaty was ratified by the senate without controversy.
Ultimately, though, as Kohn reminds us all, it was the idea of America - this new found land where a person's name or status had no meaning, and where there was no precedent for European governance - that drew people together. And throughout its early years, this is what people believed in, fought for, and kept ever at the fore of their minds.
Thus ends Kohn's study of newborn nationhood. Up next appears to be a look at how folklore helped old countries to find a new sense of national identity. It's a bit of a strange set up, the sequence of chapters being vaguely chronological, but I appreciate the variety that it offers. The geographical jumps that Kohn makes keep things relatively fresh.
Off-the-cuff writings about, and sometimes reviews of, books and video games from a nerd's boxes of backlog. Warning: this is not a spoiler-free blog!
Friday, January 31, 2014
The climb ahead looks more perilous yet
I'm all for platforming. And time limits are okay, too. But if it wasn't for the shortcut that you can open up in the Ironclad Turret, I do not think that I'd be able to get up to the boss in time to beat it and get back to the Observatory - even if the game automatically teleports you back there once you exit the boss chamber.
Having to time jumps and watch for chances to hookshot onto moving targets is too much like the last area or two of a 3D Legend of Zelda game. But the Ironclad Turret is just tower number seven of thirteen. And I haven't spoiled anything major for myself, but I know that the game has something of second half beyond the towers, too.
Though, more than likely this platforming is just a matter of the tower's theme. Based on what's inside, the Ironclad Turret is very likely a weapons factory of one sort or another. I'm not sure what all of the press mechanisms jabbing into the walls have to do with weapons manufacture, but still.
At any rate, Pandora's Tower's challenge continues to escalate. Which is kind of fitting, what with all the towers involved.
Having to time jumps and watch for chances to hookshot onto moving targets is too much like the last area or two of a 3D Legend of Zelda game. But the Ironclad Turret is just tower number seven of thirteen. And I haven't spoiled anything major for myself, but I know that the game has something of second half beyond the towers, too.
Though, more than likely this platforming is just a matter of the tower's theme. Based on what's inside, the Ironclad Turret is very likely a weapons factory of one sort or another. I'm not sure what all of the press mechanisms jabbing into the walls have to do with weapons manufacture, but still.
At any rate, Pandora's Tower's challenge continues to escalate. Which is kind of fitting, what with all the towers involved.
Thursday, January 30, 2014
A truly omniscient narrator
The end of part four of River of Stars opens a gash in the tale's chronology. All of the chapter is about the climax of Ren's plan to help bring Kitai from the brink of destruction, but parts of it are told with the knowledge that Ren's accomplice, Kang Junwen, retells of that night in his old age.
When it comes to narrators, there's limited, omniscient, and Kay's choice here.
Taking the perspective of a character to reflect on events long past rather than just to report them is something I've never come across before. It's a technique that, in a genre where the narrator is usually just taken for granted as some all-knowing storyteller, calls a lot of attention to the figure who wrote these words, who's telling this story.
Being confronted with this storytelling style is enough to make me consider the narrator more of a "speaker" in the poetic sense. "Speaker" being the term in poetic theory for the entity between a poet and the words that he or she writes.
As per the break with linear chronology that Kang's reminisces make, I take it as a hint that there will be a considerable timeskip at the start of part five.
And, more generally, I get the feeling that the novel will end somewhere in between Kitai's full revival and the complete extinguishing of them from the memory of history. As I head into the book's last part, I expect it will end with things looking up but not yet getting there.
When it comes to narrators, there's limited, omniscient, and Kay's choice here.
Taking the perspective of a character to reflect on events long past rather than just to report them is something I've never come across before. It's a technique that, in a genre where the narrator is usually just taken for granted as some all-knowing storyteller, calls a lot of attention to the figure who wrote these words, who's telling this story.
Being confronted with this storytelling style is enough to make me consider the narrator more of a "speaker" in the poetic sense. "Speaker" being the term in poetic theory for the entity between a poet and the words that he or she writes.
As per the break with linear chronology that Kang's reminisces make, I take it as a hint that there will be a considerable timeskip at the start of part five.
And, more generally, I get the feeling that the novel will end somewhere in between Kitai's full revival and the complete extinguishing of them from the memory of history. As I head into the book's last part, I expect it will end with things looking up but not yet getting there.
A fyggy twist (or two) (spoilers below)
Like a character in an anime, at the moment of truth, when the meaning of friendship is revealed, I would be the one wiping my nose and eyes on my sleeve, weeping a waterfall of tears. Though, as I was sitting on the bus while playing Dragon Quest IX, I held all that back. Because weeping in public over a video game might draw more than weirded out stares.
At first, it seemed clear cut, this latest leg of the fygg quest. But, as it turns out things just aren't what they seem.
Marion of Bloomingdale is dead. The fygg wasn't eaten, but somehow absorbed by her doll and the only friend she had in her short, illness-ridden life. Of course, being a divine fruit, the absorption brought the doll to life. So, as her only true friend, Marion's dying wish was to have her doll (Marionette) live on as her so that she could make all of the friends that the real Marion never had a chance to.
Once again, the game has taken a surprising turn. A turn that's got me thinking.
If there are sidequests that are locked off until level 40, and these quests feel like they'll be second of a sequence of three, then just how long is this game going to be? Will it be the rare RPG where the level limit is 100 and you end up closer to that than you might like just through getting to the final boss?
At first, it seemed clear cut, this latest leg of the fygg quest. But, as it turns out things just aren't what they seem.
Marion of Bloomingdale is dead. The fygg wasn't eaten, but somehow absorbed by her doll and the only friend she had in her short, illness-ridden life. Of course, being a divine fruit, the absorption brought the doll to life. So, as her only true friend, Marion's dying wish was to have her doll (Marionette) live on as her so that she could make all of the friends that the real Marion never had a chance to.
Once again, the game has taken a surprising turn. A turn that's got me thinking.
If there are sidequests that are locked off until level 40, and these quests feel like they'll be second of a sequence of three, then just how long is this game going to be? Will it be the rare RPG where the level limit is 100 and you end up closer to that than you might like just through getting to the final boss?
Kohn's concentration on America
Although he doesn't state it outright, the focus of Kohn's Chapter VI in The Idea of Nationalism is to study a nation as it is made into such. The focus of this study? None other than those United States.
One of the things that Kohn notes is the fundamental nature of the U.S.'s Constitution. Interestingly, he writes that because it is so essential to U.S. nationalism, the Constitution could never be changed (289). He doesn't say anything about amending it, but changing it, at least in Kohn's mind, would be on par with altering a law of nature. Were time travel available, it would be interesting, though potentially catastrophic, to see what changes in the original would cause to happen in the present.
What Kohn's point comes down to, though, is that the U.S. didn't benefit as a nation from its Revolution. After the dust had settled each state was still parochial and different enough from the rest to be distrustful of them. The sense that I'm left with in the middle of this chapter is that two things nonetheless brought those colonists together.
One was their mutual hatred of Europe and the styles of government for which it stood: aristocracy, hierarchy, monarchical tyranny. The other was that they could all agree that they distrusted Europe more than each other and were able to band together to one-up the old country.
The road to this inference was littered with notable quotes. Like this one from English economist Josiah Tucker (on the impossibility of a union): "...[the Americans] will have no centre of union and no common interests. They never can be united into one compact empire under any species of government whatever; a disunited people till the end of time" (283).
Or from Thomas Jefferson (on the corruption of Europe): "I think we shall be virtuous as long as agriculture is our principal object, which will be the case, while there remain vacant lands in any part of America. When we get piled upon one another in large cities, as in Europe, we shall become corrupt as in Europe and go to eating one another as they do there" (300).
One of the things that Kohn notes is the fundamental nature of the U.S.'s Constitution. Interestingly, he writes that because it is so essential to U.S. nationalism, the Constitution could never be changed (289). He doesn't say anything about amending it, but changing it, at least in Kohn's mind, would be on par with altering a law of nature. Were time travel available, it would be interesting, though potentially catastrophic, to see what changes in the original would cause to happen in the present.
What Kohn's point comes down to, though, is that the U.S. didn't benefit as a nation from its Revolution. After the dust had settled each state was still parochial and different enough from the rest to be distrustful of them. The sense that I'm left with in the middle of this chapter is that two things nonetheless brought those colonists together.
One was their mutual hatred of Europe and the styles of government for which it stood: aristocracy, hierarchy, monarchical tyranny. The other was that they could all agree that they distrusted Europe more than each other and were able to band together to one-up the old country.
The road to this inference was littered with notable quotes. Like this one from English economist Josiah Tucker (on the impossibility of a union): "...[the Americans] will have no centre of union and no common interests. They never can be united into one compact empire under any species of government whatever; a disunited people till the end of time" (283).
Or from Thomas Jefferson (on the corruption of Europe): "I think we shall be virtuous as long as agriculture is our principal object, which will be the case, while there remain vacant lands in any part of America. When we get piled upon one another in large cities, as in Europe, we shall become corrupt as in Europe and go to eating one another as they do there" (300).
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Servant beasts stay downstairs
Well, if it wasn't already plain to see, an old coaxial input tube TV just isn't good enough for the Wii. Pandora's Tower works on it - you can see Aeron and Elena and the monsters - but without the sharpness of even a VGA-input tube TV, the graphics are just too muddy.
Nonetheless, waiting for me back in this game was a strange situation. It's probably something you could attribute to the apparently random nature of enemy layouts in the game's dungeons. Certain rooms are bound to have enemies, but just which ones are in there varies.
Anyway, the situation.
I was part way through Ironclad Turret when I last left off. I climbed higher into it during this session, and found Elena's curse defense gauge quickly draining. But not a single servant beast was anywhere to be found.
There were nothing but these two-legged mound beasts and these lizards that stick to walls and fire energy projectiles at you. Both of which give either items or cash. But not an ounce of beast flesh. This went on for a good twenty minutes of tower exploration.
Eventually, by the time the gauge was down to a quarter, I happened to activate an elevator from the third floor to the first and went down. What should be waiting for me at the bottom but two armoured servant beasts, each with a weight on a chain for a hand.
Needless to say, by the time I managed to off them both within the foyer-sized room into which I was dropped, the curse gauge was nearly empty. It was, in fact, to the point where Elena had slithered down to the Observatory's basement.
Now, maybe it's just part of her animation when she reaches this point of her transformation, but she licked her lips after the first bite of flesh this time. She licked her lips.
Whether this change in her attitude towards these chunks of raw flesh I keep bringing is because of how far the curse had gotten or because I broke a chain and inched forward in the game is hard to tell.
Whatever the case, my point is this. Why were those servant beasts so hard to find? I was exploring during what looked like an in-game afternoon. So were they away at tea, or what?
Nonetheless, waiting for me back in this game was a strange situation. It's probably something you could attribute to the apparently random nature of enemy layouts in the game's dungeons. Certain rooms are bound to have enemies, but just which ones are in there varies.
Anyway, the situation.
I was part way through Ironclad Turret when I last left off. I climbed higher into it during this session, and found Elena's curse defense gauge quickly draining. But not a single servant beast was anywhere to be found.
There were nothing but these two-legged mound beasts and these lizards that stick to walls and fire energy projectiles at you. Both of which give either items or cash. But not an ounce of beast flesh. This went on for a good twenty minutes of tower exploration.
Eventually, by the time the gauge was down to a quarter, I happened to activate an elevator from the third floor to the first and went down. What should be waiting for me at the bottom but two armoured servant beasts, each with a weight on a chain for a hand.
Needless to say, by the time I managed to off them both within the foyer-sized room into which I was dropped, the curse gauge was nearly empty. It was, in fact, to the point where Elena had slithered down to the Observatory's basement.
Now, maybe it's just part of her animation when she reaches this point of her transformation, but she licked her lips after the first bite of flesh this time. She licked her lips.
Whether this change in her attitude towards these chunks of raw flesh I keep bringing is because of how far the curse had gotten or because I broke a chain and inched forward in the game is hard to tell.
Whatever the case, my point is this. Why were those servant beasts so hard to find? I was exploring during what looked like an in-game afternoon. So were they away at tea, or what?
Reconsidering Lin Shan
Throughout my reading of River of Stars I've been quietly bothered by the character of Lin Shan. At this late point in the book (I've just finished chapter XXIII) I think I know why.
Ren Daiyan is your typical fantasy protagonist with a little bit more. He's imagined being a warrior since youth, he carries with him a strong sense of purpose, and we see him learn how to achieve this purpose as he gets older. Nonetheless, the difference between him and the kind of hero you get in the cheesiest of fantasy stories is that we see him develop very clearly. We see him and his purpose run headlong into the political and social structures of the world. What's more, we also see him flex his intelligence as he manoeuvres around these structures. Where he can.
Shan, on the other hand, is not really your typical female protagonist. She's much more empowered than women tend to be in fantasy. Yet, just like Ren, she's also hemmed in by the world around her. However, what marks the biggest difference between these two characters' arcs is that Shan appears to grow relatively little over the course of the story.
Shan changes along with Ren, sure. But, her changes seem to be less from learning about what to do next than they are from simply realizing or intuiting what to do next. Kay very clearly uses this quality of hers to show her intelligence, but it makes for a flat arc.
Aside from growing up and changing from a girl to a woman, from a virgin to a wife, at her core Shan changes very little. It's as if the character she will be at the end of the book is something that she pulls from within herself rather than something that she constructs from herself as Ren does.
Now, maybe I find this difference in character arc jarring because I'm a man. As such, I'm not privy to the way women's minds work. Or maybe, again, for the same reason, stories of construction rather than of intuition resonate more strongly with me.
Whatever the underlying reason for my own personal opinion, that opinion remains. Shan is a fine character, but because she seems to come pre-packaged as a strong female character that strength is less satisfying than the development we see in Ren's arc. After all, as the story progresses we realize that Ren has carefully planned his rise to military prominence and watch as he adapts to being in love with Shan and (I imagine, though it's not been made completely clear yet) managing a counter-attack on the Altai.
Shan, however, just appears to be along for the ride that her world provides - in spite of her intelligence and wit.
Ren Daiyan is your typical fantasy protagonist with a little bit more. He's imagined being a warrior since youth, he carries with him a strong sense of purpose, and we see him learn how to achieve this purpose as he gets older. Nonetheless, the difference between him and the kind of hero you get in the cheesiest of fantasy stories is that we see him develop very clearly. We see him and his purpose run headlong into the political and social structures of the world. What's more, we also see him flex his intelligence as he manoeuvres around these structures. Where he can.
Shan, on the other hand, is not really your typical female protagonist. She's much more empowered than women tend to be in fantasy. Yet, just like Ren, she's also hemmed in by the world around her. However, what marks the biggest difference between these two characters' arcs is that Shan appears to grow relatively little over the course of the story.
Shan changes along with Ren, sure. But, her changes seem to be less from learning about what to do next than they are from simply realizing or intuiting what to do next. Kay very clearly uses this quality of hers to show her intelligence, but it makes for a flat arc.
Aside from growing up and changing from a girl to a woman, from a virgin to a wife, at her core Shan changes very little. It's as if the character she will be at the end of the book is something that she pulls from within herself rather than something that she constructs from herself as Ren does.
Now, maybe I find this difference in character arc jarring because I'm a man. As such, I'm not privy to the way women's minds work. Or maybe, again, for the same reason, stories of construction rather than of intuition resonate more strongly with me.
Whatever the underlying reason for my own personal opinion, that opinion remains. Shan is a fine character, but because she seems to come pre-packaged as a strong female character that strength is less satisfying than the development we see in Ren's arc. After all, as the story progresses we realize that Ren has carefully planned his rise to military prominence and watch as he adapts to being in love with Shan and (I imagine, though it's not been made completely clear yet) managing a counter-attack on the Altai.
Shan, however, just appears to be along for the ride that her world provides - in spite of her intelligence and wit.
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Fygg-uring out Dragon Quest IX's deeper meaning
I'm on the trail of the third fygg in Dragon Quest IX. And, for the third time, someone has eaten the fygg.
Maybe they're being eaten because they're shiny fruit. Who doesn't like shiny things? Who doesn't like fruit? Combine the two into one, and you've a sure recipe for something that whets the appetite on sight.
I think that there could be a deeper meaning here, though.
The fyggs in Dragon Quest IX are divine fruit, edible pieces of holiness. That something so sacred is edible in the first place says something about the divine, but that people are so freely chowing down on said fruit says something about human nature. What I get from this is the idea that our primary means of interacting with things is to consume them in one way or another.
Food gets eaten. Books get read. People get overwhelmed.
And we can become overwhelmed by people. Slightly unsurprisingly, interaction through consumption works both ways when it comes to people. (Take that as you will.)
All of that in mind, were Dragon Quest IX's set in a more modern time, I would not be surprised if it made a major Fantastic Voyage reference and had you shrink down to find a fygg in someone's body. As it is, though, I expect it'll just keep up the pattern of the fygg being eaten followed by varied consequences.
So far each person to munch on a fygg has undergone a transformation of some kind. Maybe that element will bring a mech or a kaiju into the mix nearer the game's end. Though that sort of weird would be just a bit outside the ken of this game's setting.
Maybe they're being eaten because they're shiny fruit. Who doesn't like shiny things? Who doesn't like fruit? Combine the two into one, and you've a sure recipe for something that whets the appetite on sight.
I think that there could be a deeper meaning here, though.
The fyggs in Dragon Quest IX are divine fruit, edible pieces of holiness. That something so sacred is edible in the first place says something about the divine, but that people are so freely chowing down on said fruit says something about human nature. What I get from this is the idea that our primary means of interacting with things is to consume them in one way or another.
Food gets eaten. Books get read. People get overwhelmed.
And we can become overwhelmed by people. Slightly unsurprisingly, interaction through consumption works both ways when it comes to people. (Take that as you will.)
All of that in mind, were Dragon Quest IX's set in a more modern time, I would not be surprised if it made a major Fantastic Voyage reference and had you shrink down to find a fygg in someone's body. As it is, though, I expect it'll just keep up the pattern of the fygg being eaten followed by varied consequences.
So far each person to munch on a fygg has undergone a transformation of some kind. Maybe that element will bring a mech or a kaiju into the mix nearer the game's end. Though that sort of weird would be just a bit outside the ken of this game's setting.
Monday, January 27, 2014
Anglo-Saxon Israelites and history in America
It seems like Anglo-Saxon peoples have a strange propensity for identifying with the biblical Israelites. The combination of the Angles and the Saxons that overtook Britain while Rome teetered and fell did it, and so too did those from the British Isles who colonized America.
Though perhaps these historically separate peoples' identification with the biblical Israelites reveals nothing more than their giving equal measures of authority to the bible. And why not? In both historical moments it was a common text, in much the same way that the Jurassic Park movie or the Harry Potter book series is today. Referring to something that the largest number of people will recognize is half the point of making such references.
At any rate, from the way Kohn writes of it, eighteenth century Europe was excited by the political developments across the Atlantic. To many, the new world offered the perfect place to put their high minded political ideals into practice. After all, First Nations aside (something that European thought of the time did with ease), it was a place without a history where, as Kohn quotes Benjamin Franklin: "...America, where people do not inquire concerning a stranger, What is he? but What can he do?" (275).
No doubt it's that attitude towards a person's making his or her own merit combined with the sentiment that it was better to look ahead than to look back for ideas that contributed much to America's modern view of history.
A view that Eddie Izzard did a great job of summing up over fifteen years ago (Dress to Kill (1998)):
Though perhaps these historically separate peoples' identification with the biblical Israelites reveals nothing more than their giving equal measures of authority to the bible. And why not? In both historical moments it was a common text, in much the same way that the Jurassic Park movie or the Harry Potter book series is today. Referring to something that the largest number of people will recognize is half the point of making such references.
At any rate, from the way Kohn writes of it, eighteenth century Europe was excited by the political developments across the Atlantic. To many, the new world offered the perfect place to put their high minded political ideals into practice. After all, First Nations aside (something that European thought of the time did with ease), it was a place without a history where, as Kohn quotes Benjamin Franklin: "...America, where people do not inquire concerning a stranger, What is he? but What can he do?" (275).
No doubt it's that attitude towards a person's making his or her own merit combined with the sentiment that it was better to look ahead than to look back for ideas that contributed much to America's modern view of history.
A view that Eddie Izzard did a great job of summing up over fifteen years ago (Dress to Kill (1998)):
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Things get drear in River of Stars (spoilers below)
River of Stars almost took a turn for the entirely expected.
When Ren confronts the new emperor, Wenzong's son Chizu, with the idea of going down fighting against the Altai that have them besieged he is flatly turned down. This moment gave me tremendous pause. Although there are only 140 or so pages left, I had expected Ren's plan to get the okay. I had thought that the book would have wrapped up in a somewhat uncluttered, direct sort of way.
Instead, Ren's idea is shot down. Of course, that doesn't stop him from working to do what he can to fulfil what he sees as his destiny. It does send him into a round of self-evaluation, though. A bit of introspection followed by his sneaking out to see the Kitan prince handed over to the Altai as a surety that the rest of their impossible price will be paid. Unsurprisingly, Ren's arc moves forward as a new avenue to his goal opens.
Shan, on the other hand, is a bit more static. She reveals that her and her husband's collection of artifacts hasn't been used to contribute to the Altai, and has some time with Ren. In spite of this, we don't see her character move forward or face new difficulties as Ren does.
Nonetheless, what I enjoy about this turn of events is that it forces the book away from a perfectly formed ending.
In the emperor's refusal of Ren's plan and the wrapping up of former prime minister Hang Dejin's arc in the next chapter, Kay really creates a sense of hopelessness. The shadow that he has made to fall over Kitai is palpable.
Though, the way that chapter XXII ends with the narrator sharing how the story of Hang Dejin's end is spread does put a few twinkling stars into that darkness. None of them look like the morning star, however.
When Ren confronts the new emperor, Wenzong's son Chizu, with the idea of going down fighting against the Altai that have them besieged he is flatly turned down. This moment gave me tremendous pause. Although there are only 140 or so pages left, I had expected Ren's plan to get the okay. I had thought that the book would have wrapped up in a somewhat uncluttered, direct sort of way.
Instead, Ren's idea is shot down. Of course, that doesn't stop him from working to do what he can to fulfil what he sees as his destiny. It does send him into a round of self-evaluation, though. A bit of introspection followed by his sneaking out to see the Kitan prince handed over to the Altai as a surety that the rest of their impossible price will be paid. Unsurprisingly, Ren's arc moves forward as a new avenue to his goal opens.
Shan, on the other hand, is a bit more static. She reveals that her and her husband's collection of artifacts hasn't been used to contribute to the Altai, and has some time with Ren. In spite of this, we don't see her character move forward or face new difficulties as Ren does.
Nonetheless, what I enjoy about this turn of events is that it forces the book away from a perfectly formed ending.
In the emperor's refusal of Ren's plan and the wrapping up of former prime minister Hang Dejin's arc in the next chapter, Kay really creates a sense of hopelessness. The shadow that he has made to fall over Kitai is palpable.
Though, the way that chapter XXII ends with the narrator sharing how the story of Hang Dejin's end is spread does put a few twinkling stars into that darkness. None of them look like the morning star, however.
Saturday, January 25, 2014
The defeat of Ganon, the return of Ganon
This entry is unprecedented, but why not make an exception for an exceptional game?
After yesterday's A Link to the Past session, and the entry that followed, I picked the game up again. Little did I know that the final three dungeons and the game's boss would tumble just so quickly.
The Ice Palace, Turtle Rock, and Ganon's Tower, each took about thirty minutes to finish. Prep for the final fight added about the same, since I wandered about a bit and made sure to get the game's best sword along with the necessary silver arrows. The final fight with Ganon (both of them) took about three minutes a piece. And in the end - not a single death.
"Wait, wait, wait - both fights with Ganon?" (You maybe ask.)
For the first time, I was knocked off of the platform on which you fight Ganon. At first I figured - ah, well, that's just a few hearts gone and I'll be right back in the King of Evil's face. But no. I actually fell to a lower area of the Pyramid in the middle of the Dark World. There wasn't anything special there, a psychic block whence Sahasrahla tells you you need silver arrows, but that's it. Yet, this new part of the game got me thinking.
So I wondered. I beat the snot out of Ganon. Then I tested my hypothesis. After beating Ganon I dove into the pyramid's depths.
"There's no way that the game will forget I beat Ganon because of this," I thought.
"You defeated the game's final boss?" the game asked as I jumped through the pyramid's roof once more. "That doesn't sound quite right."
And so I had to beat Ganon for the second time.
It's a small tick in the game's programming, but a curious one. There's no switch or variable or subroutine that tells the game you beat Ganon after you beat Ganon. The King of Evil is revived when the hero falls.
Although I'm entirely reading this into it, such a fantastic game in such a grand series could not have a better end-game exploit.
After yesterday's A Link to the Past session, and the entry that followed, I picked the game up again. Little did I know that the final three dungeons and the game's boss would tumble just so quickly.
The Ice Palace, Turtle Rock, and Ganon's Tower, each took about thirty minutes to finish. Prep for the final fight added about the same, since I wandered about a bit and made sure to get the game's best sword along with the necessary silver arrows. The final fight with Ganon (both of them) took about three minutes a piece. And in the end - not a single death.
"Wait, wait, wait - both fights with Ganon?" (You maybe ask.)
For the first time, I was knocked off of the platform on which you fight Ganon. At first I figured - ah, well, that's just a few hearts gone and I'll be right back in the King of Evil's face. But no. I actually fell to a lower area of the Pyramid in the middle of the Dark World. There wasn't anything special there, a psychic block whence Sahasrahla tells you you need silver arrows, but that's it. Yet, this new part of the game got me thinking.
So I wondered. I beat the snot out of Ganon. Then I tested my hypothesis. After beating Ganon I dove into the pyramid's depths.
"There's no way that the game will forget I beat Ganon because of this," I thought.
"You defeated the game's final boss?" the game asked as I jumped through the pyramid's roof once more. "That doesn't sound quite right."
And so I had to beat Ganon for the second time.
It's a small tick in the game's programming, but a curious one. There's no switch or variable or subroutine that tells the game you beat Ganon after you beat Ganon. The King of Evil is revived when the hero falls.
Although I'm entirely reading this into it, such a fantastic game in such a grand series could not have a better end-game exploit.
Friday, January 24, 2014
Wizzrobes must've given Misery Mire its name
I've been dogged by a foe since The Legend of Zelda on the NES. A mysterious, vanishing wizard in form obscuring garb: the wizzrobe. These guys have ended more of my adventures as Link than Ganon could ever hope to.
At the least, Misery Mire lived up to its name.
Within that dungeon's depths are some three Link corpses. One fell at the gaze of the dungeon's boss, the other two at the hands of wizzrobes. Each prone, green-tunicked body was swept aside with a quick reset, though.
I am going to finish this game with zero deaths. Even if it means playing parts of it four times over.
Besides, this ought to be the llast time I get careless and is definitely the last time I'll leave such a gap between saves. Nothing teaches you to save often like having to replay sections of a game over again.
Though this little boondoggle got me thinking. Saving in Zelda games was a roundabout process up until the franchise went 3D.
In Ocarina of Time and Majora's Mask you're asked if you want to save each time you exit your menu. In the HD remake of The Wind Waker, though, the save button is once more tucked aside.
Is this shift a reflection of Nintendo's broadening the Zelda franchise's approachability?
Most people who've picked up The Wind Waker probably have experience with the series if not that entry specifically. So the need to save frequently isn't really present, and putting the save button amidst your menus makes sense.
Whatever the case, my liason with A Link to the Past is just about over. The Ice Palace and Turtle Rock loom before Ganon's Tower, but each is about to take its own quick tumble.
StreetPass questions spurred by Nintendo Zone visits
Why is it so much fun to StreetPass someone? And why does playing the little StreetPass games and collecting puzzle pieces feel so rewarding?
After my second visit to a Nintendo Zone (StreetPass relay points at McDonald's/Future Shops/Best Buys), these are the questions that I'm left with.
A large part of the experience is the novelty. As far as I know, there isn't another console feature or set of games that relies on passing other people to use it.
Multiplayer exists for many titles, sure, but StreetPass just requires you to pass by someone who also has a 3DS (sleeping or active) on them.
A few times now, I've brought my 3DS with me to work or shopping and have come home only to found that someone I would otherwise not even be aware of had passed me in my toils or travels. So surprise can be added to the feature's fun appeal, too. It's kind of like getting mail, but in a system where junk mail is practically non-existent.
Come to think of it, that seems to be the bulk of it. The StreetPass feature is powered by surprise meetings with people that remain, for the most part, entirely mysterious. What could be more interesting than that sort of known unknown?
Do you find yourself eagerly awaiting your next StreetPass? Feel free to write why in the comments.
After my second visit to a Nintendo Zone (StreetPass relay points at McDonald's/Future Shops/Best Buys), these are the questions that I'm left with.
A large part of the experience is the novelty. As far as I know, there isn't another console feature or set of games that relies on passing other people to use it.
Multiplayer exists for many titles, sure, but StreetPass just requires you to pass by someone who also has a 3DS (sleeping or active) on them.
A few times now, I've brought my 3DS with me to work or shopping and have come home only to found that someone I would otherwise not even be aware of had passed me in my toils or travels. So surprise can be added to the feature's fun appeal, too. It's kind of like getting mail, but in a system where junk mail is practically non-existent.
Come to think of it, that seems to be the bulk of it. The StreetPass feature is powered by surprise meetings with people that remain, for the most part, entirely mysterious. What could be more interesting than that sort of known unknown?
Do you find yourself eagerly awaiting your next StreetPass? Feel free to write why in the comments.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Rousseau on nations
The past is more than a foreign country, it's populated with people who had some hilarious ideas. Like the French philosopher Jean Jacques Rousseau and his belief that a Christian republic was unthinkable. The USA is a diverse amalgam of states and faiths, but it'd nonetheless be curious to see Rousseau's reaction to its modern form.
Dipping into territory that would seem more familiar to H.I. Marrou, Rousseau also had some particular ideas about education.
Kohn wraps up his chapter on the development of sovereignty with an overview of Rousseau's work framing constitutions for both Corsica and for Poland. The former was an all new nation, and so there was no true challenge for the philosopher there. The latter offered more to try him.
As part of his recommendations, Rousseau suggested that the Polish people be steeped in their native history and culture. To ensure that they were properly educated, he stated that Polish children would learn of all of their country's products by 10, all of its provinces, roads, and cities by 12, all of its history by 15, and all of its laws by 16 (256). Rousseau's idea being that this sort of education would allow Poland's citizens to kindle in their hearts a love for their country's total greatness.
Knowing only the capital, that they inevitably make beer there, and that Nintendo products are notoriously hard to find within its borders, I must be among the worst Poles ever.
Dipping into territory that would seem more familiar to H.I. Marrou, Rousseau also had some particular ideas about education.
Kohn wraps up his chapter on the development of sovereignty with an overview of Rousseau's work framing constitutions for both Corsica and for Poland. The former was an all new nation, and so there was no true challenge for the philosopher there. The latter offered more to try him.
As part of his recommendations, Rousseau suggested that the Polish people be steeped in their native history and culture. To ensure that they were properly educated, he stated that Polish children would learn of all of their country's products by 10, all of its provinces, roads, and cities by 12, all of its history by 15, and all of its laws by 16 (256). Rousseau's idea being that this sort of education would allow Poland's citizens to kindle in their hearts a love for their country's total greatness.
Knowing only the capital, that they inevitably make beer there, and that Nintendo products are notoriously hard to find within its borders, I must be among the worst Poles ever.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Never trust faeries met in a dream
In Dragon Quest IX you meet two faeries when you sleep at Alltrades Abbey's inn. If you have a mage of level 15 or higher, that is.
When you first meet them they ask you to defeat 10 monsters with the spell Frizz. But they do so in such a way that ulterior motives are almost obvious. Having finished this task, their taking back the staff they gave me and saying to come back at level 40 makes me feel certain about my suspicions. I suspect that once you've finished these faeries' final quest you'll have to defeat them. Magical beings aren't trapped in alternate dimensions on a whim, after all.
Outside of this prediction, running around and finishing off quests in Dragon Quest IX is just as it is in other RPGs. It feels like a bit of busy work, and if you leave a quest for too long its rewards won't really line up with your present needs.
Thankfully, the Frizz-resistant blouse and shirt the faeries gave me for finishing their first quest have a broad range of usefulness.
When you first meet them they ask you to defeat 10 monsters with the spell Frizz. But they do so in such a way that ulterior motives are almost obvious. Having finished this task, their taking back the staff they gave me and saying to come back at level 40 makes me feel certain about my suspicions. I suspect that once you've finished these faeries' final quest you'll have to defeat them. Magical beings aren't trapped in alternate dimensions on a whim, after all.
Outside of this prediction, running around and finishing off quests in Dragon Quest IX is just as it is in other RPGs. It feels like a bit of busy work, and if you leave a quest for too long its rewards won't really line up with your present needs.
Thankfully, the Frizz-resistant blouse and shirt the faeries gave me for finishing their first quest have a broad range of usefulness.
Monday, January 20, 2014
How Kay manages a masterful timeskip
The first chapter of River of Stars' fourth part is further proof that this book could've be five separate books. As with the previous shifts between parts there's been a timeskip.
After reading about the emperor's okaying the move to retake Kitai's old lands, we're dropped into the middle of the struggle. A half year in, things (and the barbarian Altai) are quickly heading south.
Though what lead to this turn of events could fill a separate book, this timeskip works.
Throughout River of Stars the narrator is much more of a storyteller than I'm used to. In A Song of Ice and Fire for example, the narrator is primarily a mediator between George R.R. Martin's characters and the reader.
Kay, on the other hand, uses a narrative style that reminds me of the tone of the game over or game end text in an Ogre Battle game. Every time the narrator takes over from dialogue or description we're treated to a quick overview of events.
Yet, these overviews don't come across as oversimplifications of cause and effect or quick and dirty explanations. Each one reads as though it were carefully crafted and worded. Thus, this latest time jump works quite well. Kay gives enough detail to fire the imagination, but not nearly enough to overwhelm.
Of course, I'd expect nothing less from the writer of the line "The smell was bad with entrails spilling" (409). Short, precise, and vivid, that line would be right at home in Beowulf.
Saturday, January 18, 2014
The Links between pasts and worlds
Going back to A Link to the Past after playing a bit of A Link Between Worlds is odd. Most Zelda games are just the same thing over and over again. You're assigned some sort of quest (usually ending with "save the princess"), you go through dungeons, face bosses, and build an inventory that helps you to better navigate the world and the lair of the final boss. But when "the overworld is the same" gets thrown into that mix it's a completely different experience of same-ness.
Because of their shared overworld (in the first part of the game, anyway), A Link to the Past and A Link Between Worlds are a unique pair among the Zelda franchise. With the latter game taking place hundreds of years after the former it's neat to see what's changed and what's remained the same. For the most part, the changes are minimal, but there are a few. The missing chunk of land between Syrup's shop and the Zora's Domain, for example.
One of the weirdest things, though, is the fact that in A Link to the Past's Dark World, Link's house is a bomb shop and in A Link Between Worlds, Link's house becomes Ravio's shop. It's odd because Ravio's garb and strange animal companion look like they might have come from the Dark World. Though, the item renter looks nothing like the trunk-nosed imp that sells bombs in the 16-bit classic.
Because of their shared overworld (in the first part of the game, anyway), A Link to the Past and A Link Between Worlds are a unique pair among the Zelda franchise. With the latter game taking place hundreds of years after the former it's neat to see what's changed and what's remained the same. For the most part, the changes are minimal, but there are a few. The missing chunk of land between Syrup's shop and the Zora's Domain, for example.
One of the weirdest things, though, is the fact that in A Link to the Past's Dark World, Link's house is a bomb shop and in A Link Between Worlds, Link's house becomes Ravio's shop. It's odd because Ravio's garb and strange animal companion look like they might have come from the Dark World. Though, the item renter looks nothing like the trunk-nosed imp that sells bombs in the 16-bit classic.
Friday, January 17, 2014
Nationalism and the persistence of dead languages
Hans Kohn's mention of The Works of Ossian is far too brief. Anyone willing to fake an entire collection of heroic poetry allegedly about the Celtic forebears of Great Britain is someone with a very strong national feeling. Though perhaps such a person was exceptional in his having that feeling, or his conception of "nation" is just too loose for Kohn.
No doubt, the reason that Kohn just gives a brief mention to James Macpherson's forgery is that he's really concentrating on France in his discussion of shifting ideas of sovereignty. I think he's justified in doing so, but also missing out on what's going on in the peripheries.
Nonetheless, it's fascinating to know that French had no problem becoming a universal language in the eighteenth century, but struggled to become a common language within France. For the longest time Latin persisted as the language of instruction, though most of the contemporary philosophers and writers put their thoughts down in their nation's common tongue.
Eventually, Latin was pushed aside in favour of French as the language of instruction and politics, and was thereby legitimized. That this happened some time after ideas of governance started to swing around to the governed governing themselves really gives substance to the idea that Latin was a prince among languages.
And indeed it was.
Latin had been the language of instruction and diplomacy for centuries, and yet, it outlasted the much older idea of governance by an active monarchy in Europe. Though Latin wasn't subject to as much change as governance was over the centuries. Given that, perhaps it rusted shut in a way and that's why it lasted that little bit longer.
No doubt, the reason that Kohn just gives a brief mention to James Macpherson's forgery is that he's really concentrating on France in his discussion of shifting ideas of sovereignty. I think he's justified in doing so, but also missing out on what's going on in the peripheries.
Nonetheless, it's fascinating to know that French had no problem becoming a universal language in the eighteenth century, but struggled to become a common language within France. For the longest time Latin persisted as the language of instruction, though most of the contemporary philosophers and writers put their thoughts down in their nation's common tongue.
Eventually, Latin was pushed aside in favour of French as the language of instruction and politics, and was thereby legitimized. That this happened some time after ideas of governance started to swing around to the governed governing themselves really gives substance to the idea that Latin was a prince among languages.
And indeed it was.
Latin had been the language of instruction and diplomacy for centuries, and yet, it outlasted the much older idea of governance by an active monarchy in Europe. Though Latin wasn't subject to as much change as governance was over the centuries. Given that, perhaps it rusted shut in a way and that's why it lasted that little bit longer.
When the Poké-magic is gone
So much for getting back to the backlog proper - Pokemon Diamond's jumped the line again.
Playing a Pokemon game as an adult with a job and bills and so forth is a very foreign experience from playing one as a kid. That might sound like something to be said of any game, but I think that it rings especially true for Pokemon games.
Here's why: it takes time to get the items and pokemon that will make your game truly memorable and unique. Unlike other RPGs, you have so much choice in your party that you've got to do work beyond the usual grinding and getting through the game's story.
When I was a lad playing Pokemon games, I had all the time I needed to catch all the pokemon I could. I had all the time necessary to go side-questing or item-hunting. Now, though, I find myself skipping over pokemon that are difficult to catch (like Abra - rare and quick to teleport away).
Plus, because my pokemon are all at the point where they're neither weak enough to make grinding/fighting wild pokemon a puzzle nor strong enough to make it a breeze, I've found myself contemplating running from battles. When it comes to RPGs I never run just for the sake of saving time.
Perhaps part of why the experience is so different for me is because when I first played the Pokemon games I kept a guide (or at least a listing of where to find all the pokemon) at my side. So far, I've mostly done without on this playthrough.
But, what I'm left wondering is: Is this difference in experience because I'm older or because I'm lacking the sense of concrete-ness that a good guide brings to an otherwise nebulous game?
Playing a Pokemon game as an adult with a job and bills and so forth is a very foreign experience from playing one as a kid. That might sound like something to be said of any game, but I think that it rings especially true for Pokemon games.
Here's why: it takes time to get the items and pokemon that will make your game truly memorable and unique. Unlike other RPGs, you have so much choice in your party that you've got to do work beyond the usual grinding and getting through the game's story.
When I was a lad playing Pokemon games, I had all the time I needed to catch all the pokemon I could. I had all the time necessary to go side-questing or item-hunting. Now, though, I find myself skipping over pokemon that are difficult to catch (like Abra - rare and quick to teleport away).
Plus, because my pokemon are all at the point where they're neither weak enough to make grinding/fighting wild pokemon a puzzle nor strong enough to make it a breeze, I've found myself contemplating running from battles. When it comes to RPGs I never run just for the sake of saving time.
Perhaps part of why the experience is so different for me is because when I first played the Pokemon games I kept a guide (or at least a listing of where to find all the pokemon) at my side. So far, I've mostly done without on this playthrough.
But, what I'm left wondering is: Is this difference in experience because I'm older or because I'm lacking the sense of concrete-ness that a good guide brings to an otherwise nebulous game?
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Boat rumours heard while questing
If NPC banter is anything to go by the first vehicle is on the horizon in Dragon Quest IX. Having a way to just get around Dragon Quest IX's overworld other than footing it will definitely bring the game's vastness out all the more.
That said, even for an RPG, the game feels very linear up to this point. Although it can be obscure about where to go next, the game has you practically corralled. Between towns you're free to wander, but each town is like a star in a constellation. From one to the next it looks like you could go anywhere, but you can really only go to the next town. If you want to keep progressing the story, of course.
Until that vehicle, a ship in this case, comes into the picture.
Though this is a relatively recent game, so perhaps some change or other has come to the way vehicles work. Changing things up with the ship could make for a refreshing change. But, the moment when you get a vehicle is a milestone in every classic JRPG. It's the moment at which you're free to explore the world in a much more expansive way than merely by foot. Still, I look forward to seeing if the NPC dialogue I've been getting lately is foretelling things accurately and how the game handles the vehicle-acquisition moment.
That said, even for an RPG, the game feels very linear up to this point. Although it can be obscure about where to go next, the game has you practically corralled. Between towns you're free to wander, but each town is like a star in a constellation. From one to the next it looks like you could go anywhere, but you can really only go to the next town. If you want to keep progressing the story, of course.
Until that vehicle, a ship in this case, comes into the picture.
Though this is a relatively recent game, so perhaps some change or other has come to the way vehicles work. Changing things up with the ship could make for a refreshing change. But, the moment when you get a vehicle is a milestone in every classic JRPG. It's the moment at which you're free to explore the world in a much more expansive way than merely by foot. Still, I look forward to seeing if the NPC dialogue I've been getting lately is foretelling things accurately and how the game handles the vehicle-acquisition moment.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Predicting the next big event in River of Stars
Well. I was right about Shan and Ren. Will I be right about Ren alone now? Kay has created a scenario in which his death, or, at the least, imprisonment, is imminent. Though, this prediction comes with the caveat that Kay has a master's touch when it comes to building suspense.
As the story moves into the fourth chapter, the book's scope has widened significantly. Kitai is on the verge of another war for its lost lands and Ren, though rising through the ranks, is on the wrong front. It's a move that does a great job of ratcheting up the story's tension, since it forces Ren's rise into the social fore. Chances are, he'll wind up killed or imprisoned on the premise that he is consolidating power to prepare for a rebellion.
Of course, the book still has two parts more (and another ten chapters). Although Ren and Shan's relationship was fairly predictable, and I'm expecting Ren's demise, there's still plenty of time for River of Stars to surprise.
As the story moves into the fourth chapter, the book's scope has widened significantly. Kitai is on the verge of another war for its lost lands and Ren, though rising through the ranks, is on the wrong front. It's a move that does a great job of ratcheting up the story's tension, since it forces Ren's rise into the social fore. Chances are, he'll wind up killed or imprisoned on the premise that he is consolidating power to prepare for a rebellion.
Of course, the book still has two parts more (and another ten chapters). Although Ren and Shan's relationship was fairly predictable, and I'm expecting Ren's demise, there's still plenty of time for River of Stars to surprise.
On The Wonderful 101 demo
The Wonderful 101 is a curious game, even in demo form.
As someone who hasn't played many new games relatively close to their release dates for some time now (not counting Bravely Default's demo), it best compares to Pikmin. Both games see you controlling one character who, in turn, controls a large team of other characters. The difference being that in The Wonderful 101 these other characters aren't individually weapons, but instead act together with you to become a weapon.
In The Wonderful 101's demo, the weapons available are a hand (menacingly flexing like Master Hand from Smash Bros. when still), a sword, and a gun. You can also use your team to form scalable chains up the sides of buildings or enclosures called Wonder Circles that do things like revive wilted flower beds and recruit citizens to your ranks.
So, again, as in Pikmin, you use your group of characters to interact with the environment. But, instead of just doing so by throwing them at things, you choose a mode (the aforementioned hand, sword, or gun) and see what it will do to your surroundings. These interactions range from using the hand to open locks, to using the sword to reflect laser beams. Given the number of characters you meet in the Demo (about 30 or so of the game's boasted 100), the variety of modes in the full game must be far larger.
However, the way the game is displayed makes it difficult to control a large group. Its 3/4 perspective puts parts of the areas in which your missions take place in behind buildings, under overhangs, or behind walls. Since getting hit sends your team members flying, recovering them all can be tricky when they aren't all visible. Not to mention the fact that enemy projectiles can be fired from off screen.
Although the demo offers what looks like just a snapshot of the full game, there's challenge in it for the curious. Particularly because the controls are easy once they've been learned, but doing so can be a series of "of course!" moments.
Monday, January 13, 2014
A Quiet review
Susan
Cain's Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop
Talking is an accessible great book. It thoroughly informs those who
read it about introverts and introversion. It balances the clinical
and the anecdotal, a rare feat. Such balance can't be found throughout, however.
Cain's
engagement with ideas unfortunately doesn't extend as far into
criticism of them as it does into exploration of them. Nonetheless,
in spite of its sometimes slightly one-sided presentation of ideas,
Cain's book delivers on its title. Now we've just to see what comes of that quiet
revolution mentioned on the book's back.
Early reflections on Quiet
As I come to the end of Susan Cain's Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking, one issue continually emerges. She never really assesses the theories that she writes about unless they've already been dismissed by psychology or psychiatry at large.
This apparent disinclination for passing judgment fits in with Cain's own introversion. The last thing she'd likely want to appear as is accusatory or confrontational. Yet, I can't help but wonder if her lack of deep analysis sells her own book short. I mean, a lot of research went into this book, and in her introduction Cain notes that much of that research wound up going into the extensive list of books for further reading that follows the main text. Merely presenting various theorists' ideas and not really engaging them beyond noting where the current establishment stands on them makes the whole experience of Quiet a bit shallow.
It also, as noted before, sets it very firmly in the "general audience" category of books. Accessibility is good, and listing books that go into further depths is great, but a little more analysis would have made Quiet more challenging. Instead, true to its subject matter, it just goes along with what the world of psychology, psychiatry, and neurology have to offer.
This apparent disinclination for passing judgment fits in with Cain's own introversion. The last thing she'd likely want to appear as is accusatory or confrontational. Yet, I can't help but wonder if her lack of deep analysis sells her own book short. I mean, a lot of research went into this book, and in her introduction Cain notes that much of that research wound up going into the extensive list of books for further reading that follows the main text. Merely presenting various theorists' ideas and not really engaging them beyond noting where the current establishment stands on them makes the whole experience of Quiet a bit shallow.
It also, as noted before, sets it very firmly in the "general audience" category of books. Accessibility is good, and listing books that go into further depths is great, but a little more analysis would have made Quiet more challenging. Instead, true to its subject matter, it just goes along with what the world of psychology, psychiatry, and neurology have to offer.
Friday, January 10, 2014
Cain and soft power
"Why I like Asian culture" and "Why I found high school just OK" would have worked as titles for this entry. As Cain moved into the third part of her book, I knew from its title that reasons would be given to cover both topics. After having read it, I feel like I know those reasons all the better, though.
Soft Power is a curious thing. The idea is used to explain the hold that Japanese culture has on North America, but Cain looks at it on a smaller scale. Throughout this part of her book she investigates the high school experience in the predominantly Asian town of Cupertino, California and how graduates adjusted to college and university campuses that are primarily Caucasian.
This investigation is Cain's launching point into a broader look at the West's apparent extroversion and the East's introversion. Careful as ever to note the nuance beyond these generalizations, Cain's final pages on the topic once again implicitly point to an advantage for introverts. Their use of soft power (winning over rather than beating up) can help them to forge more genuine and lasting groups and impressions.
The fact that this conclusion is left more implicit than explicit is something I thoroughly enjoy. It's another element of Cain's book that really makes it clear that introverts are as much in her audience as they are her subject.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Away Game Special: Bravely Default demonstrates innovation
Bravely Default has interested me since I first saw its teaser trailer in a Nintendo Direct video. This video was from months ago and I now, at last, have the game's demo (and will pick up the full title after I've unlocked all of the transferable bonuses). What I really want to write about here is the game's titular battle commands: "Brave" or "Default."
To my slight disappointment this system is incredibly simple. Along with the standard turn-based RPG commands, the game adds one that lets you store turns (Default) and one that lets you use stored and/or future turns (Brave). The game keeps tracks of stored and used future turns with a number referred to as BP.
In offering these commands, the game makes this BP into another kind of MP. An important distinction, however, is that BP is set to zero at the start of each battle. Also, if a character's BP falls below zero, then that character can't move until their BP is zero or more. It's a system that creates possibilities like giant special techniques or bosses that require unique strategies. Not to mention the fact that enemies also have BP. Though naming your game after these commands doesn't make for a very compelling English title.
Title aside, turning turns themselves into a combat consumable has made for some challenging battles. In the demo (on the "Normal" difficulty setting) the monsters outmatch your party to the point where Braving and Defaulting are helpful, verging on necessary. Though since levels are something that don't transfer to the full game, enemy difficulty might just be a way to deter meaningless grinding.
To my slight disappointment this system is incredibly simple. Along with the standard turn-based RPG commands, the game adds one that lets you store turns (Default) and one that lets you use stored and/or future turns (Brave). The game keeps tracks of stored and used future turns with a number referred to as BP.
In offering these commands, the game makes this BP into another kind of MP. An important distinction, however, is that BP is set to zero at the start of each battle. Also, if a character's BP falls below zero, then that character can't move until their BP is zero or more. It's a system that creates possibilities like giant special techniques or bosses that require unique strategies. Not to mention the fact that enemies also have BP. Though naming your game after these commands doesn't make for a very compelling English title.
Title aside, turning turns themselves into a combat consumable has made for some challenging battles. In the demo (on the "Normal" difficulty setting) the monsters outmatch your party to the point where Braving and Defaulting are helpful, verging on necessary. Though since levels are something that don't transfer to the full game, enemy difficulty might just be a way to deter meaningless grinding.
Into the thick of Cain's research
Where the first half of Quiet's second part is laden with psychological studies, the latter half adds a few neurological ones to the mix. The veritable tapestry of research that Cain weaves is incredible. But, she keeps the book grounded by continuing to use the odd anecdote, either to butress her research or to frame it. Such is the case in chapter 6, where Cain intersperses the story of Eleanor Roosevelt's career and personality with a disussion of studies about introverts, extroverts, and dopamine and recollections from a weekend spent at a small convention for introverts.
Perhaps all of her moving about between perspectives (mostly scientific studies, and personal anecdotes) is part of why Cain's book has garnered so much praise. Shifting perspectives so frequently is a great way to keep the most people's attention. Had Cain written Quiet as a straight collection and analysis of studies or as a sort of memoir of an introvert, it would never have been as big a hit.
However, writing her book to have a broad appeal doesn't mean that Cain stays away from declaring that introverts are better or vice versa. She implies here and there that it's her opinion that introverts are indeed better. All the while, she also makes it clear that the split between the two within humanity isn't perfectly even and that individuals are never purely one or the other.
Nonetheless, after reading about the differences between introverts and extroverts' neurological pleasure centers any debate about the merits of one or the other remind me of Zeus and Hera's argument about which sex enjoys intercourse more. The only way to get a clear sense of it would be to find a Tiresias of temperament who has somehow been both an introvert and extrovert.
Monday, January 6, 2014
The Wind Waker Hearty Darkness
I've already done a blog series (Let's Plays in text, as I call them) about The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker (it starts here), but a little more needs to be added.
I recently cracked into The Wind Waker HD with my fiancée and have to say that the game's downright lovely. Even on an old tube TV, the graphics are lush, the colours are vibrant, and the lighting is immaculate. However, I've found that the latter effect is achieved through a bit of trickery.
Like most of the 3D Zeldas before it, dark rooms in the Gamecube version of The Wind Waker weren't shown as pitch black. They were dim, but you could see silhouettes and very bland colours while moving through a cave that was designed to be navigated with a torch. In The Wind Waker remake for the Wii U, though, those parts of the game that were previously dim are now just dark. Just plain, unabashedly dark. So much so that when you return to a room with any light at all the colours you can once again see really pop out at you.
Having to actually use a torch in the darker areas of the game is a pain, but the contrast is welcome and nicely reflects the conflict between the game's cartoonish appearance and darker undertones.
(Spoiler ahead.)
Let's not forget that this is the Zelda game that ends with Link stabbing Ganondorf in the face.
I recently cracked into The Wind Waker HD with my fiancée and have to say that the game's downright lovely. Even on an old tube TV, the graphics are lush, the colours are vibrant, and the lighting is immaculate. However, I've found that the latter effect is achieved through a bit of trickery.
Like most of the 3D Zeldas before it, dark rooms in the Gamecube version of The Wind Waker weren't shown as pitch black. They were dim, but you could see silhouettes and very bland colours while moving through a cave that was designed to be navigated with a torch. In The Wind Waker remake for the Wii U, though, those parts of the game that were previously dim are now just dark. Just plain, unabashedly dark. So much so that when you return to a room with any light at all the colours you can once again see really pop out at you.
Having to actually use a torch in the darker areas of the game is a pain, but the contrast is welcome and nicely reflects the conflict between the game's cartoonish appearance and darker undertones.
(Spoiler ahead.)
Let's not forget that this is the Zelda game that ends with Link stabbing Ganondorf in the face.
The queries increase in Quiet
Part two of Quiet is a welcome change. Where Cain spent much of part one on anecdotes she adds much more psychological and psychiatric research into part two. Of course, anecdotal evidence wouldn't hold as much water in a discussion of biology as it does in a discussion about the general concepts "extrovert" and "introvert."
On a more basic level, the inclusion of more research and more studies is also welcome because it's shaken Cain out of the familiar rhythm of part one. Now her sections carry more thought than narrative, more inquiry (Cain really puts the question mark to use) than story. Given that the chapters of part two are about big questions like, "is nature or nurture the source of a person's extroversion or introversion?" and "does a person's temperament determine the course of their life?" the shift to a tone of inquiry is a perfect fit.
Interestingly enough, Cain's moving into inquiry also saves her book from being too brash to be truly about introversion (at least as far as I'm concerned).
In moving away from anecdotes, Cain also uses the regionalism "hold forth" far less. I'm never against learning new words or idioms, but combining those words to mean "to speak about something or someone at great length" makes it seem like a truly idiomatic idiom if ever I read one.
On a more basic level, the inclusion of more research and more studies is also welcome because it's shaken Cain out of the familiar rhythm of part one. Now her sections carry more thought than narrative, more inquiry (Cain really puts the question mark to use) than story. Given that the chapters of part two are about big questions like, "is nature or nurture the source of a person's extroversion or introversion?" and "does a person's temperament determine the course of their life?" the shift to a tone of inquiry is a perfect fit.
Interestingly enough, Cain's moving into inquiry also saves her book from being too brash to be truly about introversion (at least as far as I'm concerned).
In moving away from anecdotes, Cain also uses the regionalism "hold forth" far less. I'm never against learning new words or idioms, but combining those words to mean "to speak about something or someone at great length" makes it seem like a truly idiomatic idiom if ever I read one.
The fun of a simple StreetPass
Since the release of the Wii (and even earlier, depending on who you ask), Nintendo has had a reputation. Not among the most popular of associations, the Big N's machines are considered the kid-friendly option among modern day video game consoles. Generally this means games on the 3DS and Wii U are colourful and simple, feature cartoonish violence, and don't often veer into the more "adult" arenas of scoring headshots and hookers. But you should never let simplicity fool you.
The StreetPass function of the 3DS might be the console's best software. It's something that rewards you for venturing out into the real world much more effectively than any Pokéwalker ever could. Simply passing by people with a 3DS allows you to play simple games that are, at the same time, kind of fascinating. Needless to say the turn-based battler Find Mii can play in a near infinite sort of way, since the people you meet via StreetPass could be wearing any one of several colours of shirts. Shirt colour determines their magic power and how strong any team of two (in Find Mii II) is.
The console's StreetPass function also fosters a sense of community, even if it may be a bit one-sided. Many of the people you meet via the feature are likely to be met but once, but seeing your StreetPass Plaza full of unique Miis is strangely rewarding. It also makes your 3DS feel strangely social.
Ultimately, StreetPass is just plain fun. And really, along with more recently being branded the "kiddie" line of consoles, Nintendo's had a well-deserved reputation for that for far longer.
The StreetPass function of the 3DS might be the console's best software. It's something that rewards you for venturing out into the real world much more effectively than any Pokéwalker ever could. Simply passing by people with a 3DS allows you to play simple games that are, at the same time, kind of fascinating. Needless to say the turn-based battler Find Mii can play in a near infinite sort of way, since the people you meet via StreetPass could be wearing any one of several colours of shirts. Shirt colour determines their magic power and how strong any team of two (in Find Mii II) is.
The console's StreetPass function also fosters a sense of community, even if it may be a bit one-sided. Many of the people you meet via the feature are likely to be met but once, but seeing your StreetPass Plaza full of unique Miis is strangely rewarding. It also makes your 3DS feel strangely social.
Ultimately, StreetPass is just plain fun. And really, along with more recently being branded the "kiddie" line of consoles, Nintendo's had a well-deserved reputation for that for far longer.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Can any revolution be quiet?
At first, Quiet's thesis seems to be: it's okay to be an introvert. As I made my way through chapter two and into chapter three, though, its thesis shifted to something more forceful: it's better to be an introvert.
This statement simplifies a lot of what Cain writes about, and glosses over her caveats about the importance of context in comparisons of extroverts and introverts, but it keeps coming up. Though, in a chapter about creativity, it's no surprise that solitude (an introvert's number one top sought thing) gets such high praise. Looked at logically, it just makes sense that some of the best ideas are sparked by the maddening crowd (Steve Wozniak's participating in the Homebrew Computer Club), but carried out alone (Wozniak's building the first home computer in early mornings and late nights spent at his desk at Hewlett-Packard).
With all of that said, Cain's Quiet is slowly turning into a paradox for me. What she writes is sound, but at odds with how it's written. The "anecdote-explanation-research" rhythm of her sections keeps things moving at a nice clip and adds some narrative elements to a text that could be much more dense, but it also seems weirdly chatty for a book about introversion.
The blurbs of praise in the front of the book also seem strange, considering what Quiet is all about. Ultimately, the text over the top of the back of the book, "The Book that Started the Quiet Revolution" nicely summarizes the clash of the blurbs' outspoken nature with the reserved content of the book.
Could Nintendo Land be a sleeper hit?
Nintendo Land is crazy amounts of fun. I mean, really. Playing it with friends is something that's only really matched by a good set of Super Smash Bros. Brawl or Melee bouts. Playing it alone is akin to playing a well-varied minigame collection that challenges and entertains (Yoshi's Fruit Cart is one of the toughest games I've played in a while - despite its simplicity). So why didn't this game catapult the Wii U into every video game-playing household the world over? Because Nintendo made choosing the games included in Nintendo Land a game in and of itself.
This frame game acts as a screen that effectively keeps casual gamers out. This analysis isn't anything new; it's been part of the consensus on why Nintendo Land failed to repeat Wii Sports' success since the console was off to a sluggish start a little over a year ago. But, with only a few exceptions (Metroid Blast and Battle Quest), Nintendo Land's games are pretty straightforward. Even those that use the GamePad and its innovations nearly exclusively, like Yoshi's Fruit Cart or Balloon Trip, have tutorials that could make even the greenest of gamers roll their eyes.
So the apparent failure of Nintendo Land is disappointing. But, much of the blame for this falls on Nintendo's aged shoulders. Since the console launched a year ago, advertisement has been scarce. Among those ads that were put out for the Wii U, I don't recall a single one that featured Nintendo Land.
Also, since launch, little effort was put into explaining even the simplest functions of the GamePad - being a drawing pad, working as a ninja star-launcher, serving as the controller for a game's breezes. Given the broad array of things that the GamePad is used for even in Nintendo Land, a tagline like "The controller that lets you see what you control" would have been better than the nothing Nintendo put forth.
Mind, all of this is coming from someone who is just picking up the Wii U now, over a year after its release back in November of 2012. What was done was done. Now, all that's to be said is that Nintendo Land is a fun game, and if you're at all familiar with how video games work you should give it a try (provided you've already got a Wii U, of course).
This frame game acts as a screen that effectively keeps casual gamers out. This analysis isn't anything new; it's been part of the consensus on why Nintendo Land failed to repeat Wii Sports' success since the console was off to a sluggish start a little over a year ago. But, with only a few exceptions (Metroid Blast and Battle Quest), Nintendo Land's games are pretty straightforward. Even those that use the GamePad and its innovations nearly exclusively, like Yoshi's Fruit Cart or Balloon Trip, have tutorials that could make even the greenest of gamers roll their eyes.
So the apparent failure of Nintendo Land is disappointing. But, much of the blame for this falls on Nintendo's aged shoulders. Since the console launched a year ago, advertisement has been scarce. Among those ads that were put out for the Wii U, I don't recall a single one that featured Nintendo Land.
Also, since launch, little effort was put into explaining even the simplest functions of the GamePad - being a drawing pad, working as a ninja star-launcher, serving as the controller for a game's breezes. Given the broad array of things that the GamePad is used for even in Nintendo Land, a tagline like "The controller that lets you see what you control" would have been better than the nothing Nintendo put forth.
Mind, all of this is coming from someone who is just picking up the Wii U now, over a year after its release back in November of 2012. What was done was done. Now, all that's to be said is that Nintendo Land is a fun game, and if you're at all familiar with how video games work you should give it a try (provided you've already got a Wii U, of course).
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Reading into Quiet
To kick off the new year, I'm going to read one of the books that I was given for Christmas. Since that narrows it down to The Book of Medieval Puzzles and Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking, I've gone with the latter. There's no need for me to blog about being stumped in these book entries along with my entries about video games after all.
Susan Cain's Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking has pulled me right in. Cain's conversational style and embedded anecdotes make for a quick read. At the same time her informal references to studies and theories (and the people behind them) assure all but the most skeptical of readers that she's definitely done her homework. True doubters can find plenty to dispel their worries in the 46 pages of notes Cain tucked into her book's back. Not that her overview of how North American (well, American), culture shifted from an emphasis on character to an emphasis on personality requires you to peek back at her notes.
I am, however, worried that I'll not be as surprised by answers to questions like "Can introverts be good leaders?" as the introduction implies I will be. Though thinking that far ahead only confirms what the first 40 pages have suggested: I am an introvert.
Friday, January 3, 2014
Mindful grinding
Playing a bit more of Pokemon Diamond after making a trade showed me something. Along with being a classic J-RPG, the game has some puzzle elements, too. In fact, every J-RPG with a regular, battle-based experience system does.
I've just started catching Pokemon and the Bidoof, Starly, and Shinx I now have were caught at level two or three. So I decided to grind them up to level five. At this point the puzzle element of the game kicked in.
The wild Pokemon I was fighting generally used either tackle or growl. Thus, they tended to do the same amount of damage per turn. With this information in mind, I could easily predict how many turns my lead pokemon could last. This knowledge allowed me to predict the number of battles they could go through alone, allowing me to foresee how long they could go before needing to change my lead.
Such a puzzle is perhaps nothing compared to those any Professor Layton game offers, but it's still something that brings a little thought to otherwise mindless grinding.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
A scene painted with perspectives
Chapter XVIII of River of Stars is a prime example of Kay's putting multiple perspective characters to good use. This chapter details the meeting with Emperor Wenzong in which returning to war in the north is discussed. In it Kay jumps from Lu Mah, the nephew of the emissary Lu Chao to Ziji to Ren.
Perhaps one of the reasons I enjoyed this chapter as much as I did is because giving three different perspectives on a single event is something that books do best. Movies and TV do it as well, but in those instances the sense of immediacy you get from a book is difficult to muster, since the human mind is more apt to associate time moving forward with bodies in motion than with words being read. Plus, this chapter is just what an author using multiple perspective characters should do: Create a scene lush with experiences rather than description. Though, that is, with the caveat that painting with perspectives rather than words can be overdone.
A book that only recounted a handful of events through different characters' perspectives would be interesting. But, it also wouldn't be as effective as this chapter is. Giving us three perspectives on the presence of the Emperor and the sensation of being in his meeting chamber really drives home the majesty and air of importance about the man. Not to mention the import of the gathering therein.
Such use of perspective is almost like writing a description of the place, but in reactions, actions, emotions, and dialogue than in plain words. And much of its effect comes from how scarce such chapters are in fiction in general.
Perhaps one of the reasons I enjoyed this chapter as much as I did is because giving three different perspectives on a single event is something that books do best. Movies and TV do it as well, but in those instances the sense of immediacy you get from a book is difficult to muster, since the human mind is more apt to associate time moving forward with bodies in motion than with words being read. Plus, this chapter is just what an author using multiple perspective characters should do: Create a scene lush with experiences rather than description. Though, that is, with the caveat that painting with perspectives rather than words can be overdone.
A book that only recounted a handful of events through different characters' perspectives would be interesting. But, it also wouldn't be as effective as this chapter is. Giving us three perspectives on the presence of the Emperor and the sensation of being in his meeting chamber really drives home the majesty and air of importance about the man. Not to mention the import of the gathering therein.
Such use of perspective is almost like writing a description of the place, but in reactions, actions, emotions, and dialogue than in plain words. And much of its effect comes from how scarce such chapters are in fiction in general.
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