Kohn on Celts

Well, surprise of surprises, Kohn's final chapter isn't about Germany. Yet.

Instead,the chapter called, in part, "Toward the Great Awakening" has been about Wales and Ireland. Kohn's treatment of the growth of nationalism in these countries has been similar to his approach to Germany and Prussia.

Of course, by this point in The Idea of Nationalism the important historical trends and figures of the eighteenth century are well tread. As a result, Kohn is able to skim through the context of important events. This allows him to keep his discussions streamlined and is quite appreciated.

However, Kohn does drop names without giving them context. As far as I can tell, "Grattan" is used several times but Kohn never refers to him as Henry Grattan. 

That Kohn is able to freely drop names like this suggests that The Idea of Nationalism was written for a specialist audience. Yet, Kohn's smooth but dense prose is much more welcoming than a textbook's.

Given the breadth of his coverage so far, at the very least Kohn covers a wide range of emerging nations.

Mobs of monsters have a purpose

Thankfully Torrent Peak isn't as unassailable as it seemed at first blush. A little guide from Gamefaqs went far in pointing me in the right direction.

Now that the tower's opened up somewhat, it's clearer why there are so many monsters in the first floor's main room. This tower's main puzzle is its water wheel. A wheel that only turns while you  are pulling on the water release switch.

So you need to line up the few pegs that are on this wheel with where you need to go.

Such a thing can be time consuming. And, as terrible about hijacking jumps or knocking you into the water as the enemies in that first main room are, they do provide a pretty steady supply of dripping flesh. So as frustrating as trying to run past these creatures can be, they do serve a purpose.

Yet, other than that single, horrible room, this tower's actually kind of dull. There's a lot of climbing, but nothing really interesting aside from the water wheel. Finally, though, finding another Large Bone let me upgrade the Military Scythe, so now, it's likely to be easy as well as dull.

A welcome surprise

Dragon Quest IX has up and surprised me.

Chasing after Batzorig, the son of Butsureg's chief, doesn't immediately result in a boss battle. Instead, you're lead to his mother's grave. There, her spirit reveals that you need to get her son some Bodura Grass so that he can reveal the enchantress Sarantsatsral's true form.

So the boss here, if there will be such a thing, is lined up to be Sarantsatsral herself.

Upon first encountering her, it was clear that she was not what she seemed. But my guess then was that she was a fellow Celestrian; that she was an angel like your main character. That's still my guess, but evidence is mounting against that being the case. Her sapping the confidence and courage from Batsureg's chief and his son alike is particularly un-angelic.

At any rate, this much narrative in the middle of the hunt for a fygg is a welcome change to the game. All of the other fyggs were usually delivered by accident or after a battle with whatever had eaten the fygg in question. Also, more often than not a dungeon is placed between you and the one who had dined on the divine fruit.

That the process for getting this fygg varies the formula is very welcome. Perhaps as much for what it is as for its being entirely unexpected.

Welcome to Torrent Peak

I think by now hating water-based dungeons is a forgone conclusion. It's been over a decade since Ocarina of Time's first stalled playthroughs around the globe, after all. The water dungeons in Pandora's Tower are, unfortunately, just as frustrating.

However. In Ocarina of Time, the Water Temple is a pain to work through because of all the keys and locked doors. You need to keep track of where things are, too (much more so than in any other dungeon in that game). In Pandora's Tower keys aren't the problem.

No. In Pandora's Tower the problem is the game's camera system.

Instead of following Aeron in a third person perspective, the game uses a fixed point of view. Sometimes this point of view shifts for different rooms and areas. But, it is always fixed. And there's no way to switch into a first person view to see what's around you.

Combine this restrictive camera scheme with narrow pathways surrounded by water in which you instantly lose a block of health and are sent back to the last doorway you passed through.

Then, for good measure, add in monsters that don't just leap out of the water and onto the walkways before attacking but literally launch themselves at you. Oh, and make sure you're generous with those monsters - let's say toss in two for every stretch of walkway in the main room.

That's Torrent Peak, the next tower, in a nutshell.

Granted, the Lifeforce Band and the Military Scythe do make a deadly combination in this tower. Plus, thanks to the levels gained from all of those fights, I have the room to equip armour along with those two items. So Aeron is a formidable force right now.

Still, falling in the water and re-spawning a the last doorway you passed through is frustrating as all get out. All the more so when you're in the middle of fighting those crowding creatures and have to work your way back to where you were knowing that the beasts are waiting for you.

Boss anticipation

So after Dragon Quest IX's hip hop priest (the cleric in Batsureg (a.k.a. Yurts-ville)) comes grinding.

On my way to meet up with the son of the town's chief, I got into a few battles and noticed something amiss. I couldn't follow my own strength standard of being able to beat a group of three enemies or more in one round (using three physical attacks and one attack-all spell). So the Bad Cave was visited for its metal slimes and everyone managed to gain a level.

One gained level isn't the result of a particularly large amount of grinding, but I'm eager to get moving into the game. There's the promise of the next boss fight being different from the rest, after all. Why?

Because in an effort to boost the chief's son's confidence, you're to give him the final strike.

Now, this could mean nothing more than that the battle is like any other save that when it ends you see the chief-to-be make the kill. Or, it could mean that the son will somehow be integrated into the battle.

I'm not exactly holding my breath in anticipation, but the possibility of a boss battle where stakes and methods are varied is as welcome as the actual appearance of such a battle at this point. Such a thing would make the battles all the more dynamic, and that dynamism has been missing of late in this game.

Closing the curtain on The Frogs (spoilers below)

The Frogs concludes with quite a twist.

Early in the play, Dionysus states clearly that he is going to Hades to free Euripides. But in the end it is Aeschylus whom the god brings back to advise Athens and guide her choral games.

After the contests between Euripides and Aeschylus, why Dionysus made the choice he did is clear.

For starters, this sequence takes up most of the play. It also includes the literal weighing in a scale of each's poetic wit. As you might guess, the play maintains its comedic strain throughout this poetic competition. Aeschylus' demonstrating that many of Euripides' prologues can be concluded with the sentence "Lost his bottle of oil," also damns the deity's initial pick.

The shifting of Dionysus' choice from Euripides to Aeschylus also reflects Aristophanes' own conservative philosophy. Presented with an older, more august Aeschylus it should be obvious that the younger, shallower Euripides won't be going back to the land of the living with Dionysus. Yet, because of his constant waffling and his stated interest in Euripides, Dionysus' final choice still came as a surprise to me.

If you have interest in (ancient Greek) drama, definitely do give The Frogs a read.

Although, even at the end of the play, I'm not so sure about its title. Why was it called The Frogs if a group of them have only a small role near the beginning of the play? Because it's about rescuing a dramatist and poet (someone intricately tied with public presentations) are those frogs supposed to be identified with the audience and vice versa?

Weapon Shop de Omasse is open for business

Weapon Shop de Omasse is a rhythm game and so much more.

Unlike other Nintendo-exclusive rhythm games (ie: Rhythm Heaven), Weapon Shop de Omasse's more of a complete experience. Instead of having disconnected rhythm-based mini-games, Weapon Shop de Omasse happens to be a shop simulator that features a rhythm mini-game.

Specifically, Weapon Shop de Omasse is a game that puts you into the role of a blacksmith's apprentice living and working in an RPG. So, instead of being the one who does the adventuring and is at the fore of the action, you see the classic "defeat-the-evil-lord" plot play out from the perspective of a weapon shop.

The game's rhythm element comes in when you work to forge the weapons that you rent out. Aside from that, though, you need to manage your inventory, judge your customers' abilities and needs and give them the appropriate weapon, and work to become a deluxe weapon shop before the evil lord makes his grand entrance.

All of these aspects of the game revolve around your customers. Surprisingly, even early in the game these people are all rather distinct. Even if they're mostly just named "NPC," they all have at least some personality. The way that your interactions with them are presented adds quite a bit to this as well, giving the impression that Weapon Shop de Omasse is filmed in front of a live studio audience.

Out of all the rhythm games I've played to date, Weapon Shop de Omasse is my favourite. However, the premise, the shop management, and the characters are more to thank for this praise than the actual rhythm sections of the game. Truth be told, five customers into the game, these sections have yet to be longer than thirty seconds.

If all of the above sounds good to you, though (and you have a 3DS), head on over to the eShop. As of this writing, Weapon Shop de Omasse is going for $7.99.

Near Flyting in The Frogs

Though the farce remains, The Frogs has taken a serious turn. The contest between Euripides and Aeschylus for the position of greatest tragedian has commenced, and it's brought the play's tone some gravity.

If it weren't for the measured arguments, the two poets could be said to be flyting. But there's just too much order and decorum present for that to be the sort of argument at this play's center.

So, what the contest has come down to so far is that Aeschylus brought honour and nobility to the stage. In turn, his works inspired people to act similarly. On the other hand, however, it is argued that Euripides has corrupted people in featuring corruption in his plays.

That's not to say that the heat of the poets' argument is entirely serious. Part of the jab against Euripides is that he helped to usher in a period wherein people are unfit, lazy, and selfish. To illustrate this point, [] mentions a portly man participating in the Athenian Pentathalon and lagging behind the rest. The imagery used here is a sort of proto-slapstick.

Also, Dionysus is supposed to be the moderator and judge of this debate, but is switching back and forth between the two with every point. There's some humour in a god being so indecisive, even if it is a god associated with passion rather than reason.

In a way then, the farce detected earlier in the play continues through the debate section. It is, however, of a much quieter sort.

Dragon Quest IX's eye dialect

Dragon Quest IX isn't be the most innovative RPG ever, but it does have a rapping priest. Well, a priest who speaks in a hip hop dialect.

Actually, though the mechanics are simple (a little backwards, even) and the play straightforward, Dragon Quest IX does have eye dialect. It's the first RPG I've seen in which every town has a slightly different accent. There's a Scottish brogue in Stornway, a bit of a Cockney thing going on in Dourbridge, and a wandering priest that speaks the language of the streets (well, Will Smith's streets, in the 90s).

This linguistic touch makes every area feel different. Much the same way that giving each town its own music would (and does in most other RPGs). Dragon Quest IX takes the road less travelled in that regard, though.

And, the game's job system and bosses aside, I think its linguistic variations are for the better. They make the game's already extensive world feel as though it's populated with an extensive range of people rather than generic NPCs.

Figuring out The Frogs

I finally understand what makes The Frogs so special. It's a farce.

The idea of Dionysus going to the underworld in the middle of a celebration of the tragic form while he himself is the god honoured at this celebration is altogether overwhelming. The situation it puts forth is nothing short of what you get in a comedy like It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World.

On top of that, Euripides has challenged Aeschylus for the honour of sitting beside Hades at the feast, and Dionysus is sure to be entangled in the contest.

What's got me chuckling though, is the enthusiasm I read in scenes like the one between Xanthias and Aeacus. These two slaves bond over learning their masters' foibles and betraying them behind their backs and it's all worth a good guffaw.

What had me close to outright laughter, is the scene where Dionysus and Xanthias keep switching clothes between knocks, as Dionysus tries to avoid the trouble that seems to be happening within Hades' hall.

Along with coming to enjoy the plays comedy more, I also find myself appreciating B.B. Rogers' translation anew. I know very little about ancient Greek poetry aside from its having lines longer than most English poetry. But Rogers manages to move the Chorus' rhyming sections into English with some skill, even while keeping the lines long.

It's definitely growing on me, this play.

Grinding and jobs in Dragon Quest IX

Well, going and getting the fygg from Swinedimples Academy had no adverse effects on my game in Dragon Quest IX. Getting the fygg from Gleeba went off without a hitch.

Other than the fact that despite having a "Magic Key" I still can't open prison cell doors. Ah well.

At least the boss battle - a fight with Queen Voluptua's enlarged pet lizard - went incredibly well. No one died, and only minimal healing was needed. Such is to be expected from jumping ahead and then turning back, though.

Nonetheless, although I've taken an alternate route to this point in the game, I feel like Dragon Quest IX's bosses are lacking.

So far the only real strategy that's been needed is keeping a watchful eye on everyone's HP and getting your party's fastest members to heal the others - especially when someone's barely hanging onto life. Sure, certain enemies are resistant and weak to certain types of magics, but elemental advantage counts for little. Attacking an enemy with the right spell might add 10 to 20 more damage to your strike, but it's not like something weak to fire also gets burned, or something weak to water gets sopping and has its speed attribute take a hit.

All of that said, I am having fun playing the game. But I also find myself wishing that there was a way aside from grinding (or playing through events out of the "set" order) to topple powerful (boss) enemies.

Gaining more skill points at level ups would be a good start.

I'm only really upgrading two skill sets per character as it is, but I'm at the point where abilities and power ups are at least 10 points apart. Gaining 5 allocatable skill points per level means that if I concentrate on just one skill set abilities are two levels apart.

Having played Final Fantasy games with job systems such a long wait for job-specific abilities seems ridiculous to me. And, once again, I'm stumped as to why there aren't two different kinds of experience points in Dragon Quest IX: One kind for character levels and another for job levels. Were such the case then different monsters could at least offer more of one or the other, and gaining job-related skills wouldn't be so sluggishly tied to regular level building.

Trouncing Rockshard Rampart's master

Well, that master was completely unexpected. After facing two masters that were more small and fast, I expected that trend to continue. Atop Rockshard Rampart, however, dwells a giant, scorpion-like master.

Now, this isn't to say that real scorpions are slow, but this master is almost as slow as the rocks that it inhabits.

The thing lumbers around the boss room, standing and more or less letting you hack away at its legs until it deigns to strike with its tail. A tail that always gets stuck in the ground. Hacking at the tail has the same effect as it does on the legs, a crystalline shell forms around the area that's struck.

Like other masters up to this point, this one's body seems to be a sort of metal. You can't fire the chain into it, it just bounces off. The crystalline shell that it puts up around its body for protection, however, is prime realty for the end of your chain. Its end eagerly sets up shop in this shell as soon as it connects.

Using this quality of its crystal shielding to your advantage, you climb your way up to the master's tail and then hop off onto its back. On the rolling vista that is this creature's spine you can get a clear shot at its master flesh. Take it, and then yank your chain out before the master climbs a wall and knocks you off. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

From the master's back, it looked like the joints of its legs were also viable targets. But, if hooking onto them with the chain yielded some sort of advantage it was entirely unnecessary. The curse gauge nearly emptied before I pulled the chain for the last time, but in the end I still had time to spare.

So, what this master lacked in speed it definitely made up for in strategy. Learning its attacks and how it telegraphs them makes it easier to exploit some generous openings. This exploitation in turn brings it down faster so you can hop into its back more frequently.

However, where with the previous two masters I felt like I was fighting to stay alive, with this master I felt more like I was fighting to keep the curse from devouring Elena. Even without the Lifeforce Band equipped, I would have finished the fight without having used a single curative.

On the one hand this sensation and lack of need for curatives suggests that this is an easy fight. On the other, feeling an urgent need to finish off the master so that the curse gauge doesn't entirely empty really brings you into Aeron's mindset.

What does comedy plus time equal?

Something that's tragic a few millennia ago is likely still something considered tragic. War tearing a family apart (either directly or indirectly), for example, was a terrible thing in ancient Greece and is a terrible thing now. 

Comedy, on the other hand, does not have such a long shelf life. Especially referential comedy. This fact is painfully obvious in Aristophanes' The Frogs.

Twenty pages into the play (about half way through the mystic bands' procession for Iacchus (a.k.a. Dionysus)), almost all of the jokes have been references to other plays or playwrights. If we still had copies of the latter and full biographies of the former, maybe these jokes would still work. But most of them miss their mark entirely.

That said, I can see where a few of these referential jokes are going and do get a smirk out of them, but for the most part they're lost on me.

However, one style of joke that never seems to get old is the laugh at the audience's expense. I'm reading this play in its "Digireads.com Classic" edition (a few minor typos make this text's being in the public domain quite clear), so the joke in question is on page 21. It runs thusly:

"DIONYSUS: [asking his slave about the spirits the ferryman Charon says inhabit the perimeter of the lake of the damned.]: But tell me, did you see the parricides and perjured folk he mentioned? 

XANTHIAS: Didn't you? 

DIONYSUS: Poseidon, yes. Why look! (pointing to the audience.) I see them now."

Reading it didn't get me to chuckle, but I did crack what I imagine is a wry smile.

Hopefully I'll find something that's got even more kick left in it over the next sixty pages, and get a really good laugh.

Unused party tricks

One of Dragon Quest IX's innovations is the party tricks system. This system lets you map various actions learned throughout the game (from NPCs, books, signs, etc.) to the four directions of the D-Pad. Then, when in a town or dungeon you can press "B" and choose a trick to pull off.

Performing actions that aren't necessarily combat-oriented within main areas of a game is nothing really new, but the sheer variety of tricks and possibilities borne from that variety really set Dragon Quest IX apart.

However, the game never really uses them.

So far, about halfway through the game (or so I'd like to think), there's really only been two instances when I needed to use a party trick to progress. To open the door to Tower of Trades you need to bow to it. And to bring Draak, Queen Voluptua's pet lizard, out of the shadows you need to clap.

Aside from those instances the game's party tricks have remained just that - party tricks. They're things that you can do to people and maybe cheer them up or change their dialogue, but they've not really done much else. As far as I can tell.

Maybe I'm just not willing to experiment as much as I would have were I playing this game as a kid or a teen, someone with no obligations aside from school and homework. But how much depth can a game truly be said to have when it hides that depth in a jungle of variety?

It would be mildly annoying if NPCs went out of their way to state directly that praying before an angel statue will net you some reward, but NPC dialogue is already more often than not veiled hints.
So why not throw party tricks into the mix?

A hint or two about pirouetting behind a queen to celebrate her giving you a fygg and to entice an onlooker to give you a cool accessory wouldn't go awry, certainly.

Aeron and the Lifeforce Band

I know I'm probably jumping the gun, but I think Pandora's Tower is now over. It's finished. It's done.

I made a Lifeforce Band - an item that automatically regenerates health when it's equipped. The thing is, it's probably as fragile as a dry twig. So maybe I should reserve statements like the above until I can get some leather lining to pad my inventory.

Though I'm not entirely wrong to boast about the game becoming easier.

The final two chains in Rockshard Rampart are startlingly close to one another. There's a bit of a roundabout route between them at first, but after you open up the usual shortcuts they're revealed to be practically side by side. Now all that's left in that tower is to climb to its master's lair and take it down.

It's probably some sort of crystal golem. Based on the note about it from the tower itself, you no doubt have to knock crystals from its legs to slow it, thwack it with your equipped weapon and then grab at its master flesh. Or, maybe the environment will be brought into the fight and those quickly regrowing crystals will figure into the battle somehow.

The only way to know for sure (outside of reading ahead in a walkthrough) is to pass into its chamber. And that's just what I'll do two days from now.

Kohn finally delivers on promise of folklore

At long last the chapter called "Folklore of the Past" talks of folklore. After spending nearly the whole chapter writing of trends and thinkers in German nationalism, Kohn spends the last 24 pages on Johann Gottfried Herder.

Herder's major contribution to the discussion about German nationalism is the notion that each peoples' nationalism is the way that they express humanity. All peoples express humanity in their own way, and so that method of expression reflects their national character. Folklore comes into this formulation since it is, to Herder, the essential expression of a national character.

All of this discussion of folklore is well and good. But it really could have stood on its own.

The pages upon pages of jumping around in time and across different thinkers and theories could have been organized in a more direct way. Or it could have been dropped all together. Cutting everything from this chapter but the discussion of Herder's ideas and work would have made it a mere 24 pages among chapters that are at least double that length, but still.

At least it would have only been about what it was advertised as being about.

Given where "Folklore of the Past" went, I'm confident that "Toward the Great Awakening" will continue to concentrate on Germany and its struggle with nationalism. Also, given Kohn's ending "Folklore of the Past" with a clear reference to Germany's assertion of its national pride, I'm confident that the World Wars will come up within the book's last chapter.

The Idea of Nationalism should then continue to be an interesting, if over lengthy, read.

Boss of a divergent path beaten

Boss battles that just involve knowing when to attack, when to heal, and when you're lucky aren't taxing. There's little strategy involved, and when you're facing an opponent who hits hard enough to take 1/3 of your HP at a go you're not likely to benefit from sapping its defence or trying to lull it to sleep. However, boss battles such as this are an exciting back and forth.

Such was the case with the Dreadmaster. This is the boss that stood between me and another fygg. It's also another boss that beat me before I beat it.

Being three levels under the recommended 32 (over at Dragon Quest Wiki), I think luck was mostly on my side. Mostly because Nizk and Thoth kept getting access to their individual coup de grace techniques.

Unfortunately, Peridot or Kleftis never saw a single coup become accessible. Peridot's would've helped speed up the healing process, but Kleftis was simply a tank in this fight. With 180+ HP, and a physical attack that consistently dealt about 30 damage (while the spell Boom did twice that), she's clearly the definition of a tank.

Along with this triumph, I can say that so far nothing weird has happened in-game. Collecting the fyggs in my own order doesn't seem to have derailed anything just yet.

An inconclusive conclusion

In the acknowledgements section that follows River of Stars' main text, Kay writes that legend-building is one of the novel's themes (636). He could not have chosen a more engaging way to write about this theme. He points directly at it in the book's final pages.

As everything is wrapping up, more and more vagueness is brought into the narrative. The narrator stops reporting events and begins to speak hypothetically about Shan and Ren. This move from the certainty of what happened to the possibilities held within a few moments alone is the moment around which the legend the story has built radiates.

I use "radiates" here because as much as the book's narrator can be trusted, its voice throughout the book is still that of a tale teller rather than a straight reporter. There's a mercurial element to the narration throughout the book that gives the impression that the telling of Shan and Ren's stories is something that's being spun rather than simply recorded. Such is the sense you're left with in a book from the Song of Ice and Fire series. Both voices are authoritative, but Kay's narrator is more enchanting than Martin's.

Fresh from finishing it, one of my major criticisms of the book is more of a question: Would this story have worked as a five part series instead of a book broken into five parts?

Looking back, I'm not sure it would have. Five separate books would have demanded more material than six chapter parts, and more material would mean leaving the reader with less to fill in for him or herself. It's that act of filling in the blanks, guessing at answers that we're not given, that Kay invites his readers into. Actually, he practically entices them into it.

Another criticism is not so easily dealt with, however.

Even after having finished the book, I'm not convinced that Shan developed as much as Ren. Maybe it's because girls mature faster than boys and so by the time we meet Shan for the first time her personality is more or less as it will be for the rest of her time in the story, but as far as character growth goes hers seems minimal. I'm still left with the impression that every time Shan does discover something new about herself it's more a realization of what she already has rather than something discovered outside of herself.

Over all, River of Stars is an excellent work of concise epic fantasy by a great modern fantasy writer (who just so also happens to be Canadian). Read it if you ever have the chance.

Rockshard Rampart's complexity

It sounds like the secret to beating the next master is to take out its mobility (if I'm properly reading the text I've found about it).

Although it'll be a battle in the usual small, circular room, I can't help but imagine it as a giant creature - the sort you'd find in Shadow of the Colossus. This is because of all of the hookshot-driven wall climbing in this tower. Its master just seems like it'd be a perfect fit if you needed to climb up it to strike its weak point.

Also prevalent in this tower are monsters that drop pulsating and dripping flesh. Both of these will nearly entirely fill the curse gauge. What this leads me to think is that however straightforward the chains seem, this dungeon's going to take a lot of trips to finish off.

Of course, a greater yield of beast flesh might also just be offered for profit. A single trip's flesh won't yield nearly enough leots (the in-game currency) to buy an ever-useful Tactical Manual (at a hefty 5,000 leots), but the extra cash does make it easier to create items for upgrades.

Not that upgrading the game's weapons is all that necessary at this point.

The local servant beasts, giant, bipedal sloth-like creatures, look like they hit hard, but they practically freeze in place when you've got them wrapped in the chain. They're also far less aggressive than the servant beasts met in earlier towers. If you leave their range of vision after they've attacked, they'll lose interest and lumber off.

All in all, Rockshard Rampart is a maturation in the towers' complexity. Enemies don't lock onto attacking you, the path up the tower has a few branches, and you need to do more to move between floors than simply climb steps.

The painful irony of historical nationalism

The more I read Kohn's history of German nationalism (that's what The Idea of Nationalism has become, these last hundred or so pages), the more nervous I become.

Kohn's well aware of this thing that makes me nervous, though he just juts his chin out towards it as painfully ironic sentiments come up. Sentiments found in statements along the lines of 'Germany is a great nation and a protector of the weak,' or Goethe's own "the Germans are like the Jews, they can be oppressed but not annihilated" (415).

It's statements like these that really set the stage for Germany in the twentieth century. And that make me squirm as I read. Writing in 1947, it's clear that they make Kohn nervous as well.

Nonetheless, at the time the comparison between the Jews and Germans was yet another manifestation of an Anglo/Saxon people seeing themselves as the wandering chosen. I swear there's some sort of history- and society-spanning complex there.

Getting back to the matter of nationalism. The late eighteenth century saw this movement take off in Germany, as the people began to take an interest in claiming a nation of their own. One man in particular, Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstop, even went so far as to dedicate his life to writing Germany's national epic poem. It was a project that took him twenty seven years to complete.

Kohn dwells quite a bit on the poetry of the time at this point in his discussion. Particularly, he's emphasizing the contemporary idea that poetry needs to be accessible to urbanite an ruralite alike. Hopefully this discussion of poetry is gradually bringing him to the promised folklore.

The cost of finding freedom within linearity

The dangerous part of my new found freedom in Dragon Quest IX is my getting stuck.

Once you have the ship, you can go after a few different fyggs. There's one in the deserts of Gleeba, and another at Swinedimples Academy. No doubt there are a few others I could go for now, too, but these are the two I've stumbled across. Since some places seem accessible only by air, I'm thinking that your ship will get an upgrade at some point.

But back to the dangers of the freedom to choose your path in a J-RPG.

Another game that offered you freedom in your choice of path was Tales of Symphonia.

Relatively early on in the game it was possible to travel to a place by sea or by land. Doing so by land gave you all sorts of extra experience and forced you to grind to survive. The sea route was direct and easy, so that by the time you got where you were going, the game's challenge wasn't broken. Again, there was another point in the same game where you could wind up trapped in a dungeon until beating the boss if you did a set of dungeons out of proper sequence.

Both instances of freedom in Tales of Symphonia had varied outcomes, yet choice was still paired up with consequence.

So far, in Dragon Quest IX, I've made my choice (who could refuse playing detective at Swinedimples Academy?), but have yet to see the consequence.

Some grinding's been necessary, but so far the game hasn't blocked me in any way - either substantially (with something like an event that doesn't trigger because I need to get another fygg first) or experientially (with some insurmountable enemy that requires serious grinding, re-equipping, or other player-directed power up). We'll see what happens, though.

Letting the reader fill in the rest

Can a scene that's intimate, yet not explicit be considered a sex scene?

What about an interaction between two characters that's supremely revealing of both of them as individuals and as members of a couple that merely includes sentences like: "Their lovemaking is tender and slow. It is as if he's traversing her body, making a map of it for himself" (588)?

Perhaps not in the strictest sense, but not all sex scenes need to be something that could wind up in an E.L. James novel.

Unsurprisingly, Kay's minimalism serves him well when he writes of Ren and Shan's final meeting at East Slope. Particularly because after all that we've read of them we can create the parting scene of their relationship ourselves. He need only give us the pieces.

If the separation of these two lovers - one the holder of a stubborn purpose and the other a person born and raised well before a time in which she could prosper - isn't enough heartbreak, Kay sets the seal on Ren's official fate in chapter twenty nine as well.

As there's still one chapter more, nothing's explicit, but the story is set to end with Ren, the one bearing the mark of the [fox spirit] that marks him as the one to restore Kitan's rivers and mountains, stripped of rank. Just as Kitai is stripped of much of its land.

In these final few chapters, what Kay has done is just what he does with Ren and Shan's relationship. As a storyteller, he has given us enough of a framework through the events he's told of and characters he's shared to let us (or, specifically, our imaginations) fill in the rest.

Though, one last chapter does remain. More could be said, but I'm left with the sense that River of Stars' thirtieth chapter will be like the cinematic that plays under the credits after finishing a story-driven video game.

A fleshly desire

Pandora's Tower is incredibly atmospheric. As the game progresses, it's not just the colour palette, score, and graphical style that pull together for this atmosphere, though, it's also the cutscenes.

Gradually, the clips of Elena taking her first bite of the flesh that Aeron brings become more and more sensual. As you watch them you can see Elena gradually not only getting used to the flesh (as she's recently suggested), but really coming to savour it.

At the end of my most recent session, she even comes to Aeron as he enters and asks if he has the flesh. Prior to that (right after bringing the master flesh from the Arcadian Tower, in fact) you're treated to a scene where Aeron manages to keep Elena from walking off of the Observatory's roof while in a flesh-induced daze.

There are still another seven towers left, though. So what will this obsession with the flesh become as Elena's given more and more of it? Is this a side-effect of the cure, or a further extension of the curse?

Taking the texts that I've been finding recently in-game, it's tempting to think that the curse is the result of the failed military experiment that caused the Scar. I'm also inclined to theorize that Mavda is attempting to use Elena to recreate that experiment in some way. Or, perhaps, to reverse it so that the scar closes and a Vestran homeland can be created.

The game's atmosphere of psychological horror and isolation suggest that either of those dark motives could be at work.

Over-intellectualizing nationalism?

Turning back to the eighteenth century, Kohn looks at philosophers and the influence of classical Greece on German nationalism. The latter of these turns contemporary intellectuals away from any notion of a specific German nationalism and toward something more universal.

At the time, Germany was a collection of regions, each ruled by its own monarch. Thus, some of the intellectuals considered Germany the ideal example for the rest of the world to follow when it came to a single political entity being made of several smaller kingdoms.

However, that's just what the intellectuals were thinking.

This approach to a history of something as broad as "nationalism" bothers me.

Earlier in the book, Kohn dismissed much of the German peasantry as being characterized by an overpowering desire to obey and avoid making waves. So they're discounted.

He's written of the princes of Germany and how they were more concerned with their own power and its continuation than anything like the idea of nationalism.

Now, hearing about people like Immanuel Kant and Friedrich Schiller is fine, but incredibly limited. It wouldn't bother me quite so much if Kohn tried to connect their ideas to events or movements that happened after their deaths (when it's reasonable that anything cutting edge had become mainstream or simply accepted), but he doesn't. In these last few sections, his focus has been almost entirely on individual thinkers and their own ideas of nationalism and where Germany should go in regards to it.

This current chapter, "Stirrings in the Old World: The Folklore of the Past" still has another 38 pages in which Kohn could look at the after effects of these thinkers' ideas. Alternatively, the next chapter "Stirrings in the Old World: Toward the Great Awakening" could be about just that entirely. If either is the case, then Kohn's book stands a good chance of truly being a great work of historical political science.

When a war story turns to peace

Although there are two chapters left in River of Stars (I swear, I'm keeping track because of anticipation, not because I can't wait to be finished!), it looks like the book will end with a whimper on the level of empires.

When faced with a choice between rebellion leading to the restoration of Kitai's old glory and capitulation leading to an era of peace, Ren sets aside his dream and purpose. Certainly a noble gesture, but not the greatest end when you've been pumped up by all of the talk of retaking historical Kitai.

Of course, once more, building the reader up to a height of sensation similar to that of his characters and then taking the ground from under them, however gradually, seems to be what Kay does best. It lends an element of realism to the story, too.

After all, the wildest fantasy stories tend to forget that individuals exist within structured societies. These structures, in turn, inform and limit their actions. Acting outside of them might appear grand and gratifying, but it also puts the sensations that they feel outside the scope of the average reader, since most will probably never actually step out of their society's bounds. Such characters are fine fodder for escapism, but escapism isn't nearly as gratifying as a story filled with characters that you can empathize and sympathize with.

However great the post that Ren achieved, and however powerful he is militaristically, his following the emperor's orders and leaving a siege that would have been a sure thing is what most responsible, ultimately peace-minded, war leaders would do.

What I'm nonetheless hoping for, though, is that we don't get any more of the story from, Hang Hsien's perspective. He is the son of the old prime minister (Hang Dejin), and comes across as a character that Kay either struggled with or added in after the fact to flesh things out. Perhaps that sense is just his character's doubt and lack of full conviction coming through, though.

The dangers of the sea

The world of Dragon Quest IX is now mine. With the ship, I can go anywhere. So long as the monsters along the way, or  wherever I end up don't destroy me.

That's happened surprisingly little. And only in the sense that Peridot's been killed.

That's one of this game's oddities to me. The status effect that a character is labelled with when they have zero HP isn't "KO" or "Fainted," but simply "Dead."

The only other games that I've played that have been so frank are Ogre Battle and Fire Emblem titles. What's more, in at least one Ogre Battle game dead characters can come back as undead beings.

Frank as it is with it's status effects, will a coffin drug along long enough (even if behind a ship) in Dragon Quest IX eventually spring open, revealing an undead class character?

Compelling history writing regains momentum

Just as it was starting to flag, The Idea of Nationalism has picked up speed once more. How does Kohn manage this shift amidst his discussion of the ups and downs of nascent German nationalism in the nineteenth century? With a section about contemporary Swiss nationalism, of course!

What makes Switzerland a special case, in Kohn's analysis, is that it had always been a collection of democratic city states in one way or another. It needed only pull together into one. Thus, fertile ground for nationalism was to be found there. And this healthily growing plant spread its pollen south, back to the Vaterland.

For German intellectuals of the time took Switzerland as an example and suggested the principalities pull together. A league of the princes was formed, and then nearly as quickly abandoned because of a widespread fear among Europe of a powerful empire existing in its heartland. That, and the princes in this league cared less about the people and societies that they ruled than about their own power and influence.

Ultimately, then, the discussion of nationalism among German intellectuals turned to democracy. As Johann Michael Afsprung wrote:

"'If such frail creatures as men are to be governed by mere men, then it can be done in fairness only democratically; it could be done aristocratically only if they were governed by angels, and monarchically if they were to be governed by God'" (390).

Even in the middle of a lengthy chapter, quotes like these and Kohn's chapter-like sub-sections are well placed. Some of the endings, such as that of section 10 (the quote above) even function as cliffhangers of a sort.

The withering of the next master

The Arcadian Tower's master is fallen. After another intense fight, it is fallen. Withered in fact.

Once more, the master was mobile. Also, the thing (a plant-like snake) could still regenerate in the pool of light in the middle of the room, despite the time of day. So much for facing it at night.

The rhythm of this fight was much more regular than the last, though.

Where the Ironclad Turret's master needed to overheat before showing its weak spot and could knock you back if you got too aggressive, this one's lashing out is far less effective. Even while it regenerates in its light beam, a series of concentrated attacks forces it to reveal its flesh.

Its regenerating could be problematic once its flesh was exposed, though. Standing in that beam shortened the window of opportunity, unless the chain was already in the master's flesh.

After the second fight with a mobile master, I'm starting to doubt it will make future fights more difficult. It does look like strategy will become more important, though. That will be a welcome turn.

Learning to Zing in Dragon Quest IX

Peridot's not quite caught up, level-wise, but it's time to move forward in Dragon Quest IX. Why? Because the monopoly of the churches has been further shaken.

My main character, Nizk, just learned a little spell called "Zing." It is a resurrect spell, though its description notes that it sometimes fails. Which gets me thinking.

Does the church's resurrection option have a success rate, or does it just always work? I mean, the priest says something along the lines of 'if it is your will, oh, Almighty, bring so-and-so back!'

Does it ever fail?

Is it ever not the Almighty's will to restore a character to life?

Is there a situation or scenario in which a bunch of variables align and a character can never be resurrected at a church?

Since there's no moral alignment in this game, it seems unlikely. But so too does a Pokémon catching a disease that even the Pokémon center can't treat.

What gaining the power to resurrect means going forward is that I no longer need to retreat if one of my party falls in battle. It also means that I can work my way through bosses without needing to worry about party members missing experience.

In the bigger picture, it feels like Dragon Quest IX just opened up a little bit more.

Arcadian Tower nearly climbed

Maybe it's because the strange witch-like Mavda is the only game in town, but making and forging things in Pandora's Tower is mesmerizing. It seems like the alchemy system is extensive, and that the weapon upgrades are always achievable somehow or other.

But the game's not called "Mavda's Shop."

So about those towers.

It looks like these next five might have a different bunch of servant beasts. Rather than the usual humanoid monsters decked out in armour of one kind or another, they could be themed from here on out.

In the Arcadian Tower, for example, the monsters that leave you flesh are what look like living tree stumps that spout poison in their wake. It's the last on the list, but I can't even imagine what the servant beasts in the Truegold Tower will look like. Unless, of course, they're somehow glam rock inspired.

I will say this about the Arcadian Tower, and in all seriousness: It's downright easy. The aforementioned monsters can put up a bit of a fight, and being swarmed by cursed little grey bipeds (this game's basic enemy) nearly killed me. But the puzzles are straightforward, and there's no way to miss breaking any of the anchors of the tower's three chains.

Based on one of the texts that I found lying about, this one's master should be fought at night. It draws power from light and can use it to heal, according to the book. So it looks like there'll be a night fight in my next play session.

How Kay breaks hearts (spoilers below)

The strangest part of River of Stars is its navel gazing. In these sections, the narrator speaks of things like fate, the causal links of history, and what ifs. This last is particularly striking.

At the end of chapter XXVII the narrator's dwelling on the idea of what a life cut short could've been does much with little. Complete stories are hinted at, even outlined by implication, but both are merely hypotheticals for lives ended in youth.

Kay's managing this is more than passing strange because it's rare to find such engaging navel-gazing. Nothing read in recent memory has set my imagination to blooming in this way.

Of course, this chapter does till and tend the imagination, prepare it for such. Combining conflict and loss will do that.

Spoiler warning.

An Altai sneaks into East Slope and confronts Lin. She avoids death, thanks to the bravery of Lu Mah. But he is killed in the process.

Never a central character, Lu Mah's death is nonetheless heart-wrenching. In part, this is due to the tension of the scene. We readily know alongside her what the gradually approaching Altai intends, and until Mah appears it seems like her rape is a certainty.

The other element that makes Mah's death a true tragedy is just how well we've come to know Mah's father, the poet Lu Chen. Among the things familiar about him is his use of detached awareness to muse about poems. Knowing this about his character and habits, the moment when the reality of the situation strikes Chen becomes real for even the reader.

There are three chapters of the book left yet, but what unfolds in chapter XXVII is definitely the first major pay-off.

The pluses of a priest

It doesn't look like she'll be able to revive fallen heroes, but having a priest in my party is going to make Dragon Quest IX much easier.

For starters, the game's churches no longer have a monopoly on revealing the amount of experience characters need to level up. Outside of bringing dead party members back to life, I'm hoping that having a priest with me will allow me to basically start my own religion in game. Based on my current party's jobs, it would have to have a magical minstrel thief at its center.

The grinding's going well, too.

Not only does my party feel more complete with a fourth member, it's also neat to see how quickly a new addition develops. A few battles here, a few bouts there, and already Peridot is just 10 levels behind everyone else. If I can somehow coax more metal medleys to appear in the Bad Cave, that gap will quickly close.

Though, the flip side of bringing a new party member in at this point in the game is that the gap will never entirely disappear.

For the rest of the game (barring any situation where Peridot happens to hang onto life while the others fall and the monsters faced have only one more round in them) my original three characters will be ever so slightly higher levelled than she.

But that's a small price to pay to wrest back the ability to see how much experience a character needs to level up.

Prussia? What Prussia?

The Idea of Nationalism shows its age somewhat as chapter seven goes forward.

Kohn spends a considerable amount of space in this chapter writing about the Prussian experience with nationalism. That experience being that all of the ingredients were present, but instead of being turned toward fostering a strong universal feeling or idea, they were turned to gaining power for the ruling house of Hohenzollern.

However, since 1947, Prussia has been officially abolished as a country. Kohn published this book in 1944. Quite honestly, though, this emphasis on a country that is no more is really the only thing that's reminded me of the book's age so far. I've been perfectly fine chalking up other smaller ticks to the eccentricities of any good historian.

Pulling things back from Prussia, Kohn gets into it only as a sub-section of his general study of German nationalism. The folklore has yet to really make a star appearance, as promised by the chapter's title, but at this point I think it might have just been Kohn's highlighting the sexiest part of this chapter. After all, folklore was big in the 1940s, as it had been in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

Nonetheless, it's interesting to know that German nationalism was inspired by English, French, and American nationalism though it also aimed to undercut them. To those Germans concerned with such matters, nationalism that came from civilization was of a lesser order than that which came from the nation itself. In line with Rousseau's idea of the earliest humanity being the purest (as it was free from civilization's taint), the nation's character was understood to be embodied in the practices and traditions of the common people.

With eighty-two pages left in this chapter, it's entirely possible that a more folklore-centric discussion lurks ahead, but that seems rather doubtful. Kohn will likely instead continue forward in time, detailing all of the steps that Germany took to arrive at its contemporary state.

When five towers open as one

Instead of a single tower opening up on the tower select menu, five now have. What I'm unsure about, though, is whether this means they can be done in any order, or if there's some sort of five tower puzzle that needs to be figured out. Surely, Pandora's Tower wouldn't do that. Would it?

As in the past, a hearty part of this session was inventory management (read: putting items in the trunk to be forgotten). Things like Sap Bombs and Inferno Bombs do seem mildly useful, but I'm just too used to throwing things around with the chain or hacking them down to bother with offensive items. It's just not my style of play. Nor do such items really seem all that useful.

In a turn-based game I'm all for status effects and playing strategically. But in a more action-oriented game, it's more about the basics of any fight: knock the enemy back, knock the enemy down, and strike past its defenses. Throwing a bomb of any kind seems like overkill. At least, until some monster that can only by affected by those bombs is introduced.

Anyway, venturing into Arcadian Tower seems to be the right decision at this point. One chain's been destroyed, leaving two to find. The way forward, however, does seem locked. No doubt, once I return to the tower, I'll find some means to continue onwards.

A late timeskip

In my last post about River of Stars, I noted the structure of Kay's novel. It seems like he may have had to fudge his content a bit to get that structure so aligned.

For, in part five, the customary timeskip is a chapter late.

Though, when it comes to structuring writings, themes do need to be considered. And chapter XXV is definitely suited to the elemental phase of water, associated as it is with renewal. That's the chapter where we see things pivot, even if only in a minor way, back to Kitai's favour.

And that is some favour. Chapter XXVI is all about the nearly complete defeat of the Altai who attempted to secretly cross the Great River. Some did slip through, though. One of these in particular has been set up to star in the rest of the book. At least, that's got to be a fair guess since he is named and Kay leaves him alive.

However the final four chapters go, the book's narrative voice has finally rung a bell. Especially during battle scenes, Kay is adopting a voice like that of the teller of Beowulf. It's a very knowing, almost wry at times, voice that's well suited to pole-arms and to politics.

A late introduction, but fair grinding

After my last session with Dragon Quest IX I read up on the Metal Medleys found in the Bad Cave. In doing so, I discovered that you can have four people in your party. Somehow this information had been lost in the almost two year gap in my play history with the game.

So, for now, instead of changing anyone's jobs, I introduced a fourth member into my party.

Since healing has been my bane, I brought in a priestess character. And now that was that, bane be gone!

Sort of.

Since I "recruited" this new character, she was at level one. Thinking that grinding would be easy enough were I among the latest bunch of enemies, I went on to grind around Bloomingdale. Between Pink Sanguinis and King Slimes, I think Peridot (the priestess) has only died three times. She's currently level 6.

Actually, on the point of adding members later on, I have to commend this game.

In other RPGs that involve a recruiting system, it's not as easy to grind the newcomer's level up. Mostly because the monsters in any given area aren't as varied as they are in Dragon Quest IX.

For example, while around Bloomingdale fighting a group of Pink Sanguinis is out, but a single Trigertaur is no problem. This preference for the bigger baddie comes from the fact that the former takes at least two turns to defeat, whereas the latter can be dealt with in one. Fewer turns means fewer chances that Peridot passes out before the battle's end.

Were it not for the diversity of local monsters, though, then I'd have to go way back to Stornway and grind up tediously there instead. In fact, the way things are going, I'll soon be able to start using the metal medleys to grind for everyone's levels.

A Germany divided

Chapter seven of Hans Kohn's The Idea of Nationalism is certainly about the old world. However, instead of looking further at the nationalism of France or England, he turns to Germany and the rest of what he considers central and Eastern Europe.

On the one hand, I appreciate this look at a country that I've always considered to be very western in its culture and ideology. On the other, it feels like he's using Germany as a stand in for Russia, India, and the rest of the "central and eastern" old world when it comes to nationalism. What about Poland? Norway? Estonia?

It seems like we'll not be hearing much about the smaller countries just yet. If at all. 

Twenty pages in, this chapter also has yet to really mention much about the relationship between nationalism and folklore promised in its title ("The Folklore of the Past"). Kohn's noted that the romantic idea that a nation's true spirit exists in its common people and their practices was prevalent among eighteenth century German thinkers. But that's as close as he's come to folklore.

In fact, so far, he has done little else but paint a picture of a stark divide between classes. Apparently, there were those in the upper and intellectual classes who wanted to and worked to create some sort of German nationalism and there were those in the middle classes who liked the idea of nationalism, but were too caught up in being good citizens to really do much about it. 

From the perspective of narrative, Kohn has set up a conflict that could lead to the creation of a German nationalism. Now it's a matter of seeing how he delivers. 

A master vanquished, a player satisfied - for now

So the master of the Ironclad Turret is a mecha centaur with heavy bladed scythes for arms. Or, was, anyway.

It took me two attempts (after a legit death at this thing's blades), but in the end I brought it down. What made this master so difficult, though, was that it was mobile.

Up to now, masters have been stationary or incredibly slow. This one was A) a centaur and B) a mech, so speed was definitely on its side. It made me curse out Aeron's human slowness a few times, I've got to note.

Still, despite my frustrations and plentiful trash talk, I really enjoyed this fight. It was challenging, rewarded persistence, and required more of a strategy than just "learn-the-pattern-and-wait-for-an-opening." That last point is due mostly to this master's attack pattern's being much less predictable.

It favours the simple three strike assault, but would also sometimes lunge forward; shoot some sort of heat projectile; or strike the ground with both blades, causing bits of ceiling to fall from above. Being very clearly mechanical, it also vented out its heat, during which process you could chain up its tail to cut it short and actually get it to overheat more quickly.

In brief, this was a fight that required you to stay alert. I've not been more satisfied yanking the chunk of flesh from a master yet.

And, if the old text that I found in the basement upon returning to the Observatory is any indication, the final master should be even more challenging, and therefore most satisfying.

Discovering River of Stars' structure

In an unprecedented move, the shift into part five is virtually nonexistent. In every other move between parts in River of Stars Kay has had us move ahead in time or jump into a radically different perspective. As part five opens, however, it seems likely that minutes have passed - or even that the events described are happening simultaneously with those of chapter XXIV.

Along with shocking me and giving this part a definite climactic feel, it confirms a suspicion.

River of Stars is a tale of fantasy inspired by Chinese history and culture. Within Chinese culture the number six has special significance, appearing again and again in hexagonal designs and architecture. Each of the books parts has six chapters.

According to ancient Chinese thought, the world followed cycles that five elements or phases (water, wood, fire, earth, metal) expressed. River of Stars has five distinct parts. As long as Wikipedia's order and explanation of these five phases is accurate, Kay's parts mirror them exactly.

I've expected this sort of correlation for some time, since he does a fine job of paying respect to Chinese culture in other aspects of the book.

Within the cycle of the elements, part five is a perfect fit for water. Chapter XXV is all about retreating and regrouping.

Chapter XXV is also set up to be the climax for Ren and Shan's romance. They are set to part once more, something that can really hit you if you've ever been in a long distance relationship.

Ultimately, though, the twenty-fifth chapter of River of Stars is a medley of important events and perspectives. My sense going forward is that the book's final five chapters will mostly be dealing with the fallout from these events rather than anything new. Aside, probably, from the child that Ren and Shan conceive on their final night together.

Considering a new career in Dragon Quest IX

I think it's about time that I changed jobs. In Dragon Quest IX, I mean.

The game's job system is just a bit too clunky, though. The job levels are tied to your characters' levels, the skills have a somewhat incredible cost considering you just get four points per level, and to change jobs you need to talk to certain people. Granted, most of those people are at Alltrades Abbey. But others, like the person who changes your job to Ranger, can be quite far from the beaten track.

Yet, if the recent fight with Tyrantula is any indication, I need more of a healer with me. My mage, Thoth, is fine enough with offensive magic and status-effect spells, but he was the singular casualty in the fight. And just two turns before the fatal blow was landed, too.

Truth be told, had it not been for the spread of curative items across my party, I'm not sure that any of them would have made it.

Group attacks and spells are something that my party and a few enemy parties have at this point in the game. But I've yet to come across any sort of party-wide healing spell or item. When a boss is laying into you with double group attacks on each of their double turns, that sort of thing would make fights much more streamlined. A few powered up version of the single-enemy offensive spells would help things along, too.