I've had a revelation! A CLONE SAGA-RELATED REVELATION!
You all remember Kaine right? He was a character introduced in the Clone Saga, who turned out to be -oh, stop reading if for some insane reason you want to go back and read it and be surprised one day- okay, who turned out to be ANOTHER clone of Spider-Man in a way that ended up being pretty clever in hindsight.
He was a typical "badass" 90s villain. Y'know, mysteriously lurking in the shadows and talking in riddles, beating thugs to death and not even really caring about the victims. A pretty boring character, I never really thought much of his "personality." That is, until, I heard an episode of Clone Saga Chronicles.
Y'see, I, at one point, reviewed "Web of Spider-Man #121," in which Kaine kills some thugs harassing an old lady, then steps on the old lady's treasured photograph, because he doesn't care about anything maaaaan. In the "Clone Saga Chronicles" review of the issue, however, they joked that Kaine's internal monologue was something like "MUST BE BADASS" before smashing the picture, and that's when it hit me:
Of course Kaine's a cliched, crappy villain! Because he's Peter Parker, trying to be a supervillain! He just doesn't have the heart for it! He acts like a cliched comic book villain, because that's Peter Parker's frame of reference! It's like that scene in Spider-Man 3, when he goes "evil" but he's just kind of a douche, because that's as evil as Peter Parker can get. Kaine is trying to play the part, trying desperately to convince everyone that he's this broken, super serious man, but, at the end of the day, he's Peter Parker and just can't do it.
Awesome.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
"X-Men: Prelude to Onslaught:" Structural Origins
Hey ho, everybody. The Rare megapost is coming soon, I promise, but in the meantime, I picked up a comic called "X-Men: Prelude to Onslaught," which is apparently obscure enough that Amazon doesn't even have the right cover for it.
You all probably remember Onslaught as the final boss in "Marvel vs. Capcom." He's this big, badass Magneto-lookalike with a really cool name and character design. I mean, he kind of has one of those 90s, over-the-top names, ONSLAUGHT, but it really works. And then he morphed into a giant, skull-faced monster and had great lines like "NO ONE IS SAFE" and "THE DREAM IS DEAD." He was one cheap boss, but a very, very neat one.
Of course, before appearing in the video game, he was actually a character in the comics, and... well, he's one of Marvel's greatest villains, in the sense that he turned most of the lineup into a wretched, abominable nightmare for several years. Marvel editorial used him to "kill" most of the non X-characters, such as the Avengers and the Fantastic Four, and rebooted them in their own individual pocket universes written by hot 90s talent like Rob Liefeld, so you can probably guess how it worked out.
Still, he's a cool character. Here's his origin, alright? He's the dark side of lovable Prof. Charles Xavier, given physical form and monstrously powerful. Isn't that a GREAT IDEA for a villain? Because, underneath all his peaceful talk and beliefs, Prof. X is a human being like the rest of us. I mean, he hides disappointment of people, he gets irritable and snaps at people, he has his moments of hopelessness. We all see these great leaders, Martin Luther King Jr. or Abraham Lincoln or what have you and they give off the impression that they're made of stone, that they are pillars of good thought and deed. And while, in large part, they are, they have all the piddling, petty crap rattling around their skulls that we all do. So, a villain that's a Xavier who's totally not above telling his students exactly why he thinks they're disappointing failures, or tell the world that maybe he has suspicions mutants and humans can't coexist peacefully, that's got potential, aye?
I digress a bit. The potential of "Onslaught" as a character wasn't what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about the use of continuity in 90s comics compared to today WAIT DON'T LEAVE
Anywho, back in the 90s, things tended to happen and stayed happened. If there was some relationship or event in a previous book, the editorial staff was pretty insistent that there was nothing published that contradicted it without a good explanation. Sure, they had their share of goofs and retcons, but for the most part, THIS was the universe, THIS was what happened, and writers had to deal with THIS. In short, it was more restrictive, but also more consistent, than comics today.
Comics today tend to live in their own little world... if something in the past is messy or inconvenient for the kinds of stories the writers want to tell, then its kinda glossed over, explained away, or swept under the rug. I mean, for example, a lot of stuff happened in the 80s and 90s Superman books, not all of it good... there was circus psychic Brainiac, crossovers like "Our Worlds at War" and "Emperor Joker," Lex Luthor became president (okay, THAT one is awesome). Right now, in the Superman comics, it's... well, basically like the old movies. Superman lives in a crystalline Fortress of Solitude and it turns out most of Krypton was built on crystalline architecture and he just didn't know it. Odd. When he has a personal problem, he goes and talks to the ghost of his father Jor-El (which he just recently discovered), despite the fact that at this point he's been the take-charge leader type for years and years. He hangs out with his cousin Supergirl, but... there's been like four other Supergirls before her, and I don't know, it seems like he would mention that? Like her being fourth in line of a bunch of oddly similar Supergirls would be a thing he would be affected by? It doesn't happen, and I'm not saying there's no value in that... you want to just get to simple Superman stories with simple explanations anyone can pick up at any time. It's just not the way they did it in the 90s.
So anyhow, this "Onslaught" trade is basically continuity catch-up for the Onslaught storyline. It reprints sections of all the old issues that the editors of the Onslaught storyline retroactively decided would be early events leading up to it. For example, in one issue Xavier decides he's had it up to here with Magneto's bullshit and wipes his mind completely clean; well, they say that while doing this he absorbed a little piece of his hateful little mind that eventually started "growing" into his dark side. In another issue, an X-Man from the future, Bishop, finds an old recording indicating that there's a traitor in the X-Men; eight years later, it turns out it's -gasp!- Prof. Xavier himself! At the time of publishing, those stories, and others like them, weren't written with knowledge of their future "ramifications," but, in order to create their new villain, they essentially went back and used these old stories, tried to tie them into a whole quilt. They weren't completely successful, but I'd say that that's the way you should do it. People do things, things happen, I mean...
Y'know what? I don't know what I mean. Don't worry about it.
You all probably remember Onslaught as the final boss in "Marvel vs. Capcom." He's this big, badass Magneto-lookalike with a really cool name and character design. I mean, he kind of has one of those 90s, over-the-top names, ONSLAUGHT, but it really works. And then he morphed into a giant, skull-faced monster and had great lines like "NO ONE IS SAFE" and "THE DREAM IS DEAD." He was one cheap boss, but a very, very neat one.
Of course, before appearing in the video game, he was actually a character in the comics, and... well, he's one of Marvel's greatest villains, in the sense that he turned most of the lineup into a wretched, abominable nightmare for several years. Marvel editorial used him to "kill" most of the non X-characters, such as the Avengers and the Fantastic Four, and rebooted them in their own individual pocket universes written by hot 90s talent like Rob Liefeld, so you can probably guess how it worked out.
Still, he's a cool character. Here's his origin, alright? He's the dark side of lovable Prof. Charles Xavier, given physical form and monstrously powerful. Isn't that a GREAT IDEA for a villain? Because, underneath all his peaceful talk and beliefs, Prof. X is a human being like the rest of us. I mean, he hides disappointment of people, he gets irritable and snaps at people, he has his moments of hopelessness. We all see these great leaders, Martin Luther King Jr. or Abraham Lincoln or what have you and they give off the impression that they're made of stone, that they are pillars of good thought and deed. And while, in large part, they are, they have all the piddling, petty crap rattling around their skulls that we all do. So, a villain that's a Xavier who's totally not above telling his students exactly why he thinks they're disappointing failures, or tell the world that maybe he has suspicions mutants and humans can't coexist peacefully, that's got potential, aye?
I digress a bit. The potential of "Onslaught" as a character wasn't what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about the use of continuity in 90s comics compared to today WAIT DON'T LEAVE
Anywho, back in the 90s, things tended to happen and stayed happened. If there was some relationship or event in a previous book, the editorial staff was pretty insistent that there was nothing published that contradicted it without a good explanation. Sure, they had their share of goofs and retcons, but for the most part, THIS was the universe, THIS was what happened, and writers had to deal with THIS. In short, it was more restrictive, but also more consistent, than comics today.
Comics today tend to live in their own little world... if something in the past is messy or inconvenient for the kinds of stories the writers want to tell, then its kinda glossed over, explained away, or swept under the rug. I mean, for example, a lot of stuff happened in the 80s and 90s Superman books, not all of it good... there was circus psychic Brainiac, crossovers like "Our Worlds at War" and "Emperor Joker," Lex Luthor became president (okay, THAT one is awesome). Right now, in the Superman comics, it's... well, basically like the old movies. Superman lives in a crystalline Fortress of Solitude and it turns out most of Krypton was built on crystalline architecture and he just didn't know it. Odd. When he has a personal problem, he goes and talks to the ghost of his father Jor-El (which he just recently discovered), despite the fact that at this point he's been the take-charge leader type for years and years. He hangs out with his cousin Supergirl, but... there's been like four other Supergirls before her, and I don't know, it seems like he would mention that? Like her being fourth in line of a bunch of oddly similar Supergirls would be a thing he would be affected by? It doesn't happen, and I'm not saying there's no value in that... you want to just get to simple Superman stories with simple explanations anyone can pick up at any time. It's just not the way they did it in the 90s.
So anyhow, this "Onslaught" trade is basically continuity catch-up for the Onslaught storyline. It reprints sections of all the old issues that the editors of the Onslaught storyline retroactively decided would be early events leading up to it. For example, in one issue Xavier decides he's had it up to here with Magneto's bullshit and wipes his mind completely clean; well, they say that while doing this he absorbed a little piece of his hateful little mind that eventually started "growing" into his dark side. In another issue, an X-Man from the future, Bishop, finds an old recording indicating that there's a traitor in the X-Men; eight years later, it turns out it's -gasp!- Prof. Xavier himself! At the time of publishing, those stories, and others like them, weren't written with knowledge of their future "ramifications," but, in order to create their new villain, they essentially went back and used these old stories, tried to tie them into a whole quilt. They weren't completely successful, but I'd say that that's the way you should do it. People do things, things happen, I mean...
Y'know what? I don't know what I mean. Don't worry about it.
Monday, January 24, 2011
On Video Game Remakes...
Remember when I spoke of Nintendo's reluctance to remake "The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time?" Well yeah, they're remaking it.
My first thought was "ugh." Nobody likes remakes, right? I mean, honestly, what is the reaction to pretty much every remake you've ever heard of? Usually something along the lines of... well, "ugh." They're remaking Buffy the Vampire Slayer for christ's sake, a series that ended in 2003, 2004 if you count the "Angel" spinoff. At this rate, movie remakes are going to overtake original content.
So ah, why all the remakes? Well, I considered a list of recent and upcoming games that I've been interested in buying, and came up with "Splatterhouse," "Mortal Kombat," "Marvel vs. Capcom 3," "Gunblade N.Y./L.A. Machineguns," "Time Crisis: Raizing Storm," "LittleBigPlanet 2," and "Batman: Arkham City." All of them ports, remakes, or sequels to long-running franchises. The only exceptions are "LittleBigPlanet 2" (though I DO mainly want to use it to remake Rocket Knight Adventures levels) and "Batman: Arkham City," which is still a sequel (and because the first one gave me ten out of ten bat-boners). So, I mean, I guess I can't complain to much. There's clearly an appeal. Hell, there's clearly an appeal to Hollywood's remakes too; if they didn't sell, they wouldn't keep it up.
So, why haven't we seen more video game remakes? Now, let me get one thing out of the way: we have seen many video game remakes... just not to the extent Hollywood has taken things. And note that I'm not going to quantify that, look up statistics for movies v. video games or the like. I'm going with my gut, which says tons of movie remakes, not many game remakes. That's the way it FEELS, right guys?
Well, for one thing, can it be that the industry is too young? The movie industry is something like 100 years old, and the game industry is less than half that (and the first decade was bleeps and bloops on the Atari). When Peter Jackson wants to remake 1933's King Kong, he's got 70 years between the two. Anyone who had a childhood connection to King Kong is either dead or Arnold's grandpa. They've since closed the gap, but even when they remake things like "Friday the 13th" or "A Nightmare on Elm Street," teenagers in the 80s are pushing 50 right about now... from a money-making standpoint, preserving their childhood memories isn't worth anything, and I doubt 50-year-olds give a flying fuck that the guy from "Watchmen" is playing Freddy now. They've got mortgages and stuff.
The demographics are different for the gaming industry. In America anyway, the three largest impacts in attracting new players were the 8, 16, and 32-bit eras (and we may be seeing a new one with the "motion control generation"). The NES brought children back to gaming after the industry crashed in the early 80s. The Genesis' bitching marketing appealed to those same children, now teenagers, and brought in more. The PlayStation appealed to those teenagers, now college kids, and brought in more. That's kind of the "base" the the current American game industry is built on. So, from child in the NES era to child in the PlayStation era, we're looking at demographics now from age 23 to 33. For that age group, there is that kind of childhood connection... if it means anything at all to the producers of these games, then it might be a deterrent. It might also be that kids this young might take umbridge to remakes of their childhood... kids today go to remakes, but its usually remakes of other, older peoples' childhoods. Oh, take all of my demographics with a big heaping bowl of salt, this is just some off the head theorizing.
Also, it might just be that games don't need remakes like movies do, because we've got sequels. Look at the "Nightmare on Elm Street" series. What if, instead of doing a remake, the producers decided to do a sequel? Well, you need to write original new characters and get an original cast, and returning cast members have to not be old. You need to make sure your story takes into account all of the tacked on crap of the later Elm Street movies, and find a way to avoid the stigma of double digit horror movie sequels being terrible. From an artistic, practical, and money-making standpoint, a remake makes more sense. Now, look at the "Super Mario" franchise. Bowser kidnaps the princess again, script done. All your actors are digital. You don't need any of the original production team (well, except for Miyamoto, but hell, look at "Metroid Prime," where what was essentially an all new team developed a faithful, wonderful installment). Sequels in the game industry carry no stigma, in fact, games tend to get better in subsequent installments (or at least not significantly worse). So, no need to remake, just make Mario 15. And let's not get started with the "Mega Man" franchise.
And honestly, the difference between video game sequel and remake is pretty slim. Take, for instance, the jump between "Super Mario Bros. 3" and "Super Mario World," and the jump between the original "Resident Evil" and the Gamecube remake. Compared to the original, the "REmake" has more new content than "Super Mario World" has over SMB3. See, the video game industry moves faster than the movie industry, with new advances in technology and gameplay philosophy spreading very quickly. Compare it to the movies; sure, the new "Nightmare," had better special effects to work with, but, at the end of the day, the cinematography and storytelling in the industry were at the same level as they were in the original "Nightmare." Video game remakes might not be as "offensive" in that regard.
Finally, do we mind video game remakes as much as movie remakes? I mean, does anyone wish the "REmake" hadn't come out? What about that enhanced port of the GameBoy "Kirby" in "Kirby Super Star?" The "GoldenEye" remake was fun, right? Totally different feel from the original.
Honestly, I think it isn't about the content of the remakes themselves. As with the sequels to which nobody really bats an eye at, they tend to deliver in the gameplay department. I mean, a fun game is a fun game, right? I think the main problem is the feeling of being manipulated. The new "GoldenEye" is a terrific, often fresh-feeling game, but they could have done an original Bond game that was... well, exactly the same as the one they released, without the old name. We have a lot of entertainment options, and just having a quality game isn't enough to succeed, so they put a name we recognize on the box, and hope it drags us in. And we recognize what they're doing, and that's why we resist.
Or not. I don't know. It's a very... muddled thing, video game remakes.
But still, remaking "Ocarina of Time?" Come on guys. I mean, come ON. Placing bets on the inevitable "Final Fantasy VII" remake right now.
My first thought was "ugh." Nobody likes remakes, right? I mean, honestly, what is the reaction to pretty much every remake you've ever heard of? Usually something along the lines of... well, "ugh." They're remaking Buffy the Vampire Slayer for christ's sake, a series that ended in 2003, 2004 if you count the "Angel" spinoff. At this rate, movie remakes are going to overtake original content.
So ah, why all the remakes? Well, I considered a list of recent and upcoming games that I've been interested in buying, and came up with "Splatterhouse," "Mortal Kombat," "Marvel vs. Capcom 3," "Gunblade N.Y./L.A. Machineguns," "Time Crisis: Raizing Storm," "LittleBigPlanet 2," and "Batman: Arkham City." All of them ports, remakes, or sequels to long-running franchises. The only exceptions are "LittleBigPlanet 2" (though I DO mainly want to use it to remake Rocket Knight Adventures levels) and "Batman: Arkham City," which is still a sequel (and because the first one gave me ten out of ten bat-boners). So, I mean, I guess I can't complain to much. There's clearly an appeal. Hell, there's clearly an appeal to Hollywood's remakes too; if they didn't sell, they wouldn't keep it up.
So, why haven't we seen more video game remakes? Now, let me get one thing out of the way: we have seen many video game remakes... just not to the extent Hollywood has taken things. And note that I'm not going to quantify that, look up statistics for movies v. video games or the like. I'm going with my gut, which says tons of movie remakes, not many game remakes. That's the way it FEELS, right guys?
Well, for one thing, can it be that the industry is too young? The movie industry is something like 100 years old, and the game industry is less than half that (and the first decade was bleeps and bloops on the Atari). When Peter Jackson wants to remake 1933's King Kong, he's got 70 years between the two. Anyone who had a childhood connection to King Kong is either dead or Arnold's grandpa. They've since closed the gap, but even when they remake things like "Friday the 13th" or "A Nightmare on Elm Street," teenagers in the 80s are pushing 50 right about now... from a money-making standpoint, preserving their childhood memories isn't worth anything, and I doubt 50-year-olds give a flying fuck that the guy from "Watchmen" is playing Freddy now. They've got mortgages and stuff.
The demographics are different for the gaming industry. In America anyway, the three largest impacts in attracting new players were the 8, 16, and 32-bit eras (and we may be seeing a new one with the "motion control generation"). The NES brought children back to gaming after the industry crashed in the early 80s. The Genesis' bitching marketing appealed to those same children, now teenagers, and brought in more. The PlayStation appealed to those teenagers, now college kids, and brought in more. That's kind of the "base" the the current American game industry is built on. So, from child in the NES era to child in the PlayStation era, we're looking at demographics now from age 23 to 33. For that age group, there is that kind of childhood connection... if it means anything at all to the producers of these games, then it might be a deterrent. It might also be that kids this young might take umbridge to remakes of their childhood... kids today go to remakes, but its usually remakes of other, older peoples' childhoods. Oh, take all of my demographics with a big heaping bowl of salt, this is just some off the head theorizing.
Also, it might just be that games don't need remakes like movies do, because we've got sequels. Look at the "Nightmare on Elm Street" series. What if, instead of doing a remake, the producers decided to do a sequel? Well, you need to write original new characters and get an original cast, and returning cast members have to not be old. You need to make sure your story takes into account all of the tacked on crap of the later Elm Street movies, and find a way to avoid the stigma of double digit horror movie sequels being terrible. From an artistic, practical, and money-making standpoint, a remake makes more sense. Now, look at the "Super Mario" franchise. Bowser kidnaps the princess again, script done. All your actors are digital. You don't need any of the original production team (well, except for Miyamoto, but hell, look at "Metroid Prime," where what was essentially an all new team developed a faithful, wonderful installment). Sequels in the game industry carry no stigma, in fact, games tend to get better in subsequent installments (or at least not significantly worse). So, no need to remake, just make Mario 15. And let's not get started with the "Mega Man" franchise.
And honestly, the difference between video game sequel and remake is pretty slim. Take, for instance, the jump between "Super Mario Bros. 3" and "Super Mario World," and the jump between the original "Resident Evil" and the Gamecube remake. Compared to the original, the "REmake" has more new content than "Super Mario World" has over SMB3. See, the video game industry moves faster than the movie industry, with new advances in technology and gameplay philosophy spreading very quickly. Compare it to the movies; sure, the new "Nightmare," had better special effects to work with, but, at the end of the day, the cinematography and storytelling in the industry were at the same level as they were in the original "Nightmare." Video game remakes might not be as "offensive" in that regard.
Finally, do we mind video game remakes as much as movie remakes? I mean, does anyone wish the "REmake" hadn't come out? What about that enhanced port of the GameBoy "Kirby" in "Kirby Super Star?" The "GoldenEye" remake was fun, right? Totally different feel from the original.
Honestly, I think it isn't about the content of the remakes themselves. As with the sequels to which nobody really bats an eye at, they tend to deliver in the gameplay department. I mean, a fun game is a fun game, right? I think the main problem is the feeling of being manipulated. The new "GoldenEye" is a terrific, often fresh-feeling game, but they could have done an original Bond game that was... well, exactly the same as the one they released, without the old name. We have a lot of entertainment options, and just having a quality game isn't enough to succeed, so they put a name we recognize on the box, and hope it drags us in. And we recognize what they're doing, and that's why we resist.
Or not. I don't know. It's a very... muddled thing, video game remakes.
But still, remaking "Ocarina of Time?" Come on guys. I mean, come ON. Placing bets on the inevitable "Final Fantasy VII" remake right now.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Retro Gamer
Let me tell you about my love/hate relationship with "Retro Gamer."
"Retro Gamer" is a British magazine that focuses on old video games, featuring retrospectives, interviews, making-ofs, analysis, and just general nostalgic gushing. It sounds like heaven... my problem is that its not! Quite! There!
My main problem is that it doesn't go in-depth enough. When it talks about, say, the "Mario Kart" series, it doesn't provide you with any information that you couldn't find in its Wikipedia article, with perhaps a few new anecdotes. At its best, it still isn't up to the standards of Hardcore Gaming 101 or Retrogaming with Racketboy, and they're free and written by amateurs.
The problem, I think, is one of perspective and context. Old video games don't exist in a vacuum, they're period pieces. The people at Nintendo and Square have often said that they don't want to remake games such as "The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time" or "Final Fantasy VII" because they're so deeply associated with peoples' childhood memories (or at least their pasts) to the extent that the same game or a remake today would make for a disconnectedness that would sour that personal connection. You can't play "Mortal Kombat" without feeling the weight of early debates on violence, you can't play "Donkey Kong Country" without analyzing Nintendo's calculated attack on early 32-bit competitors, and you can't play "GoldenEye 007" without considering the climate for console first person shooters before and after its debut. I find the history of the game industry, the business of a new artistic medium, to be wonderfully fascinating, and retro video games are the preserved footprints of that huge, constantly-advancing business. "Retro Gamer" very rarely, if ever, provides or analyzes this context, and that's a shame.
Nor, unfortunately, does "Retro Gamer" ever delve deeply into the naked content of the games themselves. Old games that are still played and, in some cases, constantly resold to new audiences today have something about them, a design philosophy, an art philosophy that transcends (or even uses) the limitations of their primitive hardware to speak to gamers across decades. I'm sure you could write a thesis on how "Super Mario World" does what it does. "Retro Gamer" never really dissects games in this manner. Sure, it's clear that they have a passionate love for many titles, but they never put them under the microscope. It's a missed opportunity for fascinating writing (and probably a lifetime subscription from me).
And while I'm complaining about their general redistribution of not terribly rare or new surface information, their straight up "reporting" sometimes leaves a bit to be desired as well. They'll talk about a series, but not in a way that's always helpful to the reader (well, at least to me). While they're passionate about games, howzabout helping me play them? For example, I recently purchased an issue because of a feature on the "Micro Machines" series, as I had heard about it recently and was interested in getting more information, possibly making a purchase of one of the games. The feature talked about what the series IS, with anecdotes from the creators, but at the end of the article, it was essentially a sequence of basic facts about the series. The article seemed to assume that the reader would be as passionate about the series as the writer, whereas I was interested in gaining some perspective on this obscure series and why its well-remembered by fans. Also, I was kind of hoping it'd have some kind of suggestion on the best game in the series, or which one to buy to get into it. I still haven't played a "Micro Machines" game (though to be fair, I have an extremely short attention span).
Now don't get me wrong, not every game in the world needs a discussion of its influence, scholarly analysis, and a guide to getting into the series late. The latest issue featured a two-page spread on the making of "Banshee," a well-done shooter for a British computer, which was essentially an extended chat with its creators. Cool; that's all we need for "Banshee." Similarly, a "Definitive 'Centipede'" guide had no more than two paragraphs for each game, because you don't need that much to sum up an obscure sequel to "Centipede." And don't let me tell you that their "surface reporting" is always of little use; they recently published a "25 Best Adventure Games (Not Made By LucasArts)" that I, as a man who knows next to nothing about point-and-click adventure games, very well could use as a guide to get into the genre. It's just... well, not really enough.
Part of the disconnect might be from the fact that its a British magazine, so the childhoods and pasts of its contributors don't match up with the typical American. They won't shut up about their British computers, such as the Spectrum, Amiga, Commodore 64, etc, systems that were barely a blip on the radar in America's gaming industry. Seriously guys, shut up about "Seymour Goes to Hollywood" and talk about "NBA Jam" or something. Christ.
Of course, this is all easier said than done. Writing is really difficult. I mean, read through some of my blog posts; they're "pretty good" at best and I'm trying as hard as I can. Maybe it's asking too much to get the kind of content I've been describing. However... that's what you need to hook me. Sorry.
And let me say, while the writing leaves much to be desired, the design, my GOD the design, is fantasmic. While there have been a few hiccups here and there, for the most part the magazine is throwing up the kind of sprite and polygon art layouts that really epitomize what makes these old games so wonderful. Look at these covers! It's even nicer being held in your hand. The quality of the paper is also excellent, and the magazine is wider and taller than is average. I swear, it's like "National Geographic" if they were photographing an Atari 7800. Wonderful, truly.
So, ah, what started this little post was the latest issue, featuring a look back at "Rare," the bad boys of the N64. Nice cover, huh? Lots of easter eggs and obscure characters (but we all recognized them, right fellas?). But, BUT! Look at this: the cover to old British game magazine "Zzap!64" issue 9. Good lord do I wish there was an American equivalent to this magazine, because so much of their passionate masturbatory nostalgia is lost on Americans! Lost!
Not a terrible issue, I'd say just barely worth my $10. But here's the thing; unlike the "Micro Machines" feature above, I did go into this one with a preexisting passion for all things "Rare." And, at the end of the day... I would have had that even if I hadn't bought the magazine. It takes more than shared nostalgia between writer and reader to keep something like this going for me, and too often that's all they've got.
Big "Rare" lovefest incoming.
(In related "retro game art layout" achievement, check out GamesTM's 100 covers for the 100 best games of all time. I couldn't stop staring at that one for awhile. I ended up with the "Smash Bros" one.)
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Cloverfield: Ticks, Explosions, Flashbacks, Logistics, Dramatic Convenience, 9/11 Parallels... and Laughter
I recently had a monster movie marathon. We watched "King Kong," "Godzilla," and "Cloverfield." King Kong was delightful, just a fantastic mix of charm and genuine visceral violence. "Godzilla" was somber, sterile, cold... but in a good way. "Cloverfield" though...
"Cloverfield" is the type of movie that drives me crazy. It is a good movie that could have been a great movie. These type of movies get one part of my brain praising the good, and another part nitpicking the bad, and I find that these two parts start bouncing off of each other and filling my head with thoughts and opinions greater than the sum of their... parts. With that in mind, I thought I'd write about it.
Let's talk about the 9/11 imagery. The most striking is the nature of the monster itself. In "King Kong," the monster's destructive rampage is the result of man's contempt for nature. In "Godzilla," the monster rises due to irresponsibly administered man-made nuclear tests. In "Cloverfield," however, the monster just shows up and starts murdering New Yorkers. There's no rhyme or reason, it's just sudden, inexplicable violence. It's terrific.
Secondly, there's a scene early in the film where the monster knocks down a building and the debris are funneled down the street in a way so reminiscent of a particularly... memorable scene on 9/11 that I refuse to believe it's a coincidence. It's downright eerie.1
There are other, more minor things. Having recently watched a documentary composed entirely of citizen camcorder footage of New York on 9/11, the cinematography was, at least for me, a contributing factor. You have large-scale foot traffic evacuations, the military on the streets. We only see media coverage in a few brief scenes, but its very similar to the 24/7 glued-to-the-screen imagery of 9/11. There's few hard facts, but a lot of speculation, one of the protagonists even speculating that the government itself had a hand in the monster's creation, or knew about it beforehand. Yeup.
J.J. Abrams said he wanted to make a monster of America in the same sense that Godzilla is the monster of Japan, and in the thematic sense he succeeded.2 Godzilla embodies the anxieties of Japan in its post-WW2 situation, and this monster does the same for 9/11. I really enjoyed this aspect of the movie.
I think the structure of the movie is what... I don't want to say "grates" or "bothers" me, but there's something to it the disconnects me from enjoying the movie more than I otherwise would. The problem is that it purports to be a "naturalistic" look at regular people surviving an unbelievable, dangerous situation, but the script keeps putting these "regular" people into an action movie sequence every 20 minutes like clockwork.3
In fact, I can pinpoint the exact sequence in the movie where it loses its momentum. The opening scenes are terrific (by which I mean the opening scenes with the monster, after the boring characters are done talking about their inconsequential love lives). There's a good presence of mystery and menace; mysterious explosions, blackouts, an oil tanker overturned... something terrible is clearly happening, but what?
Then, on the street, you get the famous Statue of Liberty head sequence. Don't get me wrong; it's not likely that these characters would be standing right where the head of the Statue of Liberty lands, but its still within the realm of plausibility. They could just be "lucky" like that. After that, the eerie 9/11 sequence from above in which the monster is where you'd expect him to be, and as dangerous as you'd expect him to be.
Soon thereafter, they go to the bridge. This sequence bugged me when I first watched it. Now, I assume at this point the position of the monster is pretty well being confirmed and constantly updated. It likely wouldn't be difficult, eh? The direction the characters are being evacuated, by police officers, is almost certainly away from the monster. And then... the monster suddenly shows up, with but a few seconds of warning, and smashes the bridge. This violates some of the "rules" established in the previous scenes, mainly where the monster is4 and the mere fact of it walking around is enough to be a deadly menace to characters blocks away. In this case it shows up and smashes apart the Brooklyn Bridge while they're standing on it, the tail (or tentacle or whatever the hell) impacting not far from where the characters are standing, and they get out okay, the only exception being the moron directly underneath it.
Like I said, structure. This is the moment where the monster violates the more plausible rules of the opening in order to give the movie its second action sequence. Not that its not a nice action sequence; the bridge collapsing in front of the cameraman looks incredibly realistic. It's just the split between "real" and "movie" that rubs me the wrong way.
It gets worse in this aspect as it goes. The main characters end up in the middle of a firefight between the military and the monster, fighting bugs in the sewer, walking into a military command post completely by luck, rescuing a friend from a collapsed building, being in a helicopter crash, and, in the case of the cameraman, being eaten alive on camera (after the monster somehow sneaks up on him). On top of this, the characters are taping over footage that, at the end, cuts in with the "origin" of the monster (some kind of impact in the ocean days before), at exactly the right dramatic moment. I mean seriously, you guys.
Now, I don't envy the writers of this type of movie. They have to balance pacing that would seem "realistic" to the characters in that situation with pacing that exposits all that needs to be exposited and includes an appropriate amount of exciting scenes for the protagonists. In this case, however, they go to far with the former... Aspects about the nature of the monster and situation are left vague, but the characters and audience are never confused... they always know enough to know what to do and where to go, there's always explanatory dialogue and warnings about exactly when the bombs will go off. In my eyes, its too structured to come off as an "everyman" account of a monster attack.
One sequence in particular, I think, illustrates a lot of my grievances with the film and just really bugs me in general. It's a scene in which the cameraman is watching a series of news reports on televisions in an electronics store. The focus is on the monster, and the commentators are saying "There seems to be something falling off of it, do you see that?" What's falling off the monster are dog-sized parasites, which immediately start attacking the on-the-ground cameramen and others. Now, here's my problems:
1. Is there any doubt, in anybody's mind, whatsoever, that within 20 minutes the main characters are going to get chased around by these parasites? The exact nature of these creatures are vague, but their existence, origin, and basic modus operandi are completely known to the protagonists and audience. Wouldn't it have been better to get attacked by the parasites first, and get the explanation later? Then there'd be surprise and mystery in the "what's that sound" subway sequence, instead of "it's the bugs, obviously," and it would make the narrative less linear.
2. This is more of a minor editing error, but the movie continues to violate its established monster danger rules, with the parasites falling off the monster and attacking people no less than two meters away when they land. Shouldn't standing that close to the monster be instantaneously fatal?
3. What is with the newscasters here? I'm no journalism expert, but I think they'd be focusing more on, y'know, the monster, rather than the random details surrounding it. Even if they were just being excruciatingly thorough, it doesn't seem like something they'd be focusing on. The monster's knocking down whole city blocks, there's going to be all kinds of rubble and stuff falling off him. Again, wouldn't it be more effective if they didn't say anything of the "rubble," then were surprised when it springs up and starts eating them? It's spelled out too explicitly.5
AND WHY CAN'T THEY GET A GOOD SHOT OF THE 25-STOREY MONSTER FROM THEIR HELICOPTERS.
I mean, why even have the ticks? Isn't the monster a big enough obstacle for the characters on its own? They're there solely to chase the characters around inside buildings and stretch out the number of "plausible" action sequences. Nothing more, nothing less.
A friend of mine compared the movie to "Half-Life," and I think he's right. In "Half-Life," Gordon Freeman is never more than 15 minutes away from the next action sequence or plot point, and every time he arrives at a new location there's some scripted event to liven up the action. Of course, the CGI monsters and first person perspective certainly help comparisons, but its the scripted events that kill in this movie.
In my eyes, "Cloverfield" has two kinds of scenes: ambiance, and scripted events. Ambiance is more exploration of a changed environment. For example, food left at tables in outdoor restaurants, various news reports, or the horse carriage without rider in eerily evacuated lower Manhattan. Scripted events are action sequences that occur around the protagonists by sheer luck; a battalion of soldiers showing up right behind the protagonists, jets that buzz the camera, ticks and, later, the monster itself appearing right behind the characters. In the first, the characters are insignificant, and are just surviving in this radically changed city as best they can. In the second the opposite is true, with dramatic things happening, randomly, just when the characters are there to observe them. The environment dramatically reacts to the presence of the characters, instead of the other way around. This goes against the "naturalism" theme of the movie, and is probably its biggest problem.
A few other, random things:
The monster's not that interesting. Director said that J.J. Abrams was trying to create a monster of America in the same sense that Godzilla is the monster of Japan, but its not really interesting enough to be our monster. It reminds me mostly of the space Nazis from the "Resistance" games.6
Geez, these characters are boring; mediocre at best, terrible at worst. Name-wise, I remember Hud the cameraman, but only because of the pun of his name. I think the main douchebag was named Rob, and his girlfriend was named Beth. But Rob's brother, or the two chicks? Can't help you. A good chunk of time was spent trying to make you care about these characters' relationships and personalities, but nothing is particularly memorable or interesting. Rob's trying to rescue his trapped girlfriend is the thrust of the narrative, but Rob's the only one who cares; I sure didn't. If you don't care what the main character is risking his life for (and the lives of all his friends), then there's a problem with your movie. Let me tell you, it sat a lot better with the director's commentary talking over these people.
This movie's supposed to be a somewhat realistic interpretation as to what would happen in a monster movie, but there are problems there. For one thing, with a monster stomping around knocking down eight or nine buildings every fifteen minutes, there should be bodies everywhere. I realize that the studio was going for a PG-13 movie here and had realistic reservations about depicting the murder of thousands (if not tens of thousands) of New Yorkers, but it's to the detriment of the "real life" premise of the film. Also, you notice how all of the fleeing people are basically adults aged 20-40? Where are the children and elderly people?
There are a couple of good uses of the camera on which the footage is being recorded. For instance, in the tunnels, they use its night vision to good dramatic effect, and then use it as a flashlight to illuminate the bugs, cleverly giving a reason keep them in the shot as much as possible. The moment after that though... Hud, put the fucking camera down and help them hold the damn door! Rob, don't go back for the camera, the monster is RIGHT BEHIND YOU. Gah.
Hey, would this movie had worked better as a compilation of the footage of various survivors? That way you could have all the action sequences you want, as long as they didn't continually happen to the same people. You could still have Rob and Beth and the rest, but you could cut right from the head sequence to them breaking into her apartment, and have other people fight bugs and find military bases and whatever in between. They could die, crossover... I dunno, maybe?
Phew. Okay, I never have to watch or think about "Cloverfield" again.
1Please excuse my not linking the video. I write this blog for fun, and when I started digging through youtube footage for it, I was not having fun.
2Of course we already have an "American Godzilla," his name is King Kong. In fact, Godzilla is just Japan's King Kong.
3Yes, I know the movie is like seven hours of footage edited down into two, so there's plenty of "real time" between sequences, but still.
4A friend of mine suggested that there was more than one monster, explaining its "sudden appearance." While the military's dialogue doesn't completely rule it out, it suggests otherwise.
5On the other hand... you could say that it's the newscasters trying to deal with an unbelievable, patently scientifically impossible event by focusing on anything but the obvious. They're focusing on the inconsequential things falling off of the monster instead of the monster, because maybe they can't really accept the fact that Godzilla is real? Even so, that'd still make them some crappy reporters...
6I love the "Resistance" series. "So, you like "Halo" and you like WW2, huh? Well then do I got the game for you!"
"Cloverfield" is the type of movie that drives me crazy. It is a good movie that could have been a great movie. These type of movies get one part of my brain praising the good, and another part nitpicking the bad, and I find that these two parts start bouncing off of each other and filling my head with thoughts and opinions greater than the sum of their... parts. With that in mind, I thought I'd write about it.
Let's talk about the 9/11 imagery. The most striking is the nature of the monster itself. In "King Kong," the monster's destructive rampage is the result of man's contempt for nature. In "Godzilla," the monster rises due to irresponsibly administered man-made nuclear tests. In "Cloverfield," however, the monster just shows up and starts murdering New Yorkers. There's no rhyme or reason, it's just sudden, inexplicable violence. It's terrific.
Secondly, there's a scene early in the film where the monster knocks down a building and the debris are funneled down the street in a way so reminiscent of a particularly... memorable scene on 9/11 that I refuse to believe it's a coincidence. It's downright eerie.1
There are other, more minor things. Having recently watched a documentary composed entirely of citizen camcorder footage of New York on 9/11, the cinematography was, at least for me, a contributing factor. You have large-scale foot traffic evacuations, the military on the streets. We only see media coverage in a few brief scenes, but its very similar to the 24/7 glued-to-the-screen imagery of 9/11. There's few hard facts, but a lot of speculation, one of the protagonists even speculating that the government itself had a hand in the monster's creation, or knew about it beforehand. Yeup.
J.J. Abrams said he wanted to make a monster of America in the same sense that Godzilla is the monster of Japan, and in the thematic sense he succeeded.2 Godzilla embodies the anxieties of Japan in its post-WW2 situation, and this monster does the same for 9/11. I really enjoyed this aspect of the movie.
I think the structure of the movie is what... I don't want to say "grates" or "bothers" me, but there's something to it the disconnects me from enjoying the movie more than I otherwise would. The problem is that it purports to be a "naturalistic" look at regular people surviving an unbelievable, dangerous situation, but the script keeps putting these "regular" people into an action movie sequence every 20 minutes like clockwork.3
In fact, I can pinpoint the exact sequence in the movie where it loses its momentum. The opening scenes are terrific (by which I mean the opening scenes with the monster, after the boring characters are done talking about their inconsequential love lives). There's a good presence of mystery and menace; mysterious explosions, blackouts, an oil tanker overturned... something terrible is clearly happening, but what?
Then, on the street, you get the famous Statue of Liberty head sequence. Don't get me wrong; it's not likely that these characters would be standing right where the head of the Statue of Liberty lands, but its still within the realm of plausibility. They could just be "lucky" like that. After that, the eerie 9/11 sequence from above in which the monster is where you'd expect him to be, and as dangerous as you'd expect him to be.
Soon thereafter, they go to the bridge. This sequence bugged me when I first watched it. Now, I assume at this point the position of the monster is pretty well being confirmed and constantly updated. It likely wouldn't be difficult, eh? The direction the characters are being evacuated, by police officers, is almost certainly away from the monster. And then... the monster suddenly shows up, with but a few seconds of warning, and smashes the bridge. This violates some of the "rules" established in the previous scenes, mainly where the monster is4 and the mere fact of it walking around is enough to be a deadly menace to characters blocks away. In this case it shows up and smashes apart the Brooklyn Bridge while they're standing on it, the tail (or tentacle or whatever the hell) impacting not far from where the characters are standing, and they get out okay, the only exception being the moron directly underneath it.
Like I said, structure. This is the moment where the monster violates the more plausible rules of the opening in order to give the movie its second action sequence. Not that its not a nice action sequence; the bridge collapsing in front of the cameraman looks incredibly realistic. It's just the split between "real" and "movie" that rubs me the wrong way.
It gets worse in this aspect as it goes. The main characters end up in the middle of a firefight between the military and the monster, fighting bugs in the sewer, walking into a military command post completely by luck, rescuing a friend from a collapsed building, being in a helicopter crash, and, in the case of the cameraman, being eaten alive on camera (after the monster somehow sneaks up on him). On top of this, the characters are taping over footage that, at the end, cuts in with the "origin" of the monster (some kind of impact in the ocean days before), at exactly the right dramatic moment. I mean seriously, you guys.
Now, I don't envy the writers of this type of movie. They have to balance pacing that would seem "realistic" to the characters in that situation with pacing that exposits all that needs to be exposited and includes an appropriate amount of exciting scenes for the protagonists. In this case, however, they go to far with the former... Aspects about the nature of the monster and situation are left vague, but the characters and audience are never confused... they always know enough to know what to do and where to go, there's always explanatory dialogue and warnings about exactly when the bombs will go off. In my eyes, its too structured to come off as an "everyman" account of a monster attack.
One sequence in particular, I think, illustrates a lot of my grievances with the film and just really bugs me in general. It's a scene in which the cameraman is watching a series of news reports on televisions in an electronics store. The focus is on the monster, and the commentators are saying "There seems to be something falling off of it, do you see that?" What's falling off the monster are dog-sized parasites, which immediately start attacking the on-the-ground cameramen and others. Now, here's my problems:
1. Is there any doubt, in anybody's mind, whatsoever, that within 20 minutes the main characters are going to get chased around by these parasites? The exact nature of these creatures are vague, but their existence, origin, and basic modus operandi are completely known to the protagonists and audience. Wouldn't it have been better to get attacked by the parasites first, and get the explanation later? Then there'd be surprise and mystery in the "what's that sound" subway sequence, instead of "it's the bugs, obviously," and it would make the narrative less linear.
2. This is more of a minor editing error, but the movie continues to violate its established monster danger rules, with the parasites falling off the monster and attacking people no less than two meters away when they land. Shouldn't standing that close to the monster be instantaneously fatal?
3. What is with the newscasters here? I'm no journalism expert, but I think they'd be focusing more on, y'know, the monster, rather than the random details surrounding it. Even if they were just being excruciatingly thorough, it doesn't seem like something they'd be focusing on. The monster's knocking down whole city blocks, there's going to be all kinds of rubble and stuff falling off him. Again, wouldn't it be more effective if they didn't say anything of the "rubble," then were surprised when it springs up and starts eating them? It's spelled out too explicitly.5
AND WHY CAN'T THEY GET A GOOD SHOT OF THE 25-STOREY MONSTER FROM THEIR HELICOPTERS.
I mean, why even have the ticks? Isn't the monster a big enough obstacle for the characters on its own? They're there solely to chase the characters around inside buildings and stretch out the number of "plausible" action sequences. Nothing more, nothing less.
A friend of mine compared the movie to "Half-Life," and I think he's right. In "Half-Life," Gordon Freeman is never more than 15 minutes away from the next action sequence or plot point, and every time he arrives at a new location there's some scripted event to liven up the action. Of course, the CGI monsters and first person perspective certainly help comparisons, but its the scripted events that kill in this movie.
In my eyes, "Cloverfield" has two kinds of scenes: ambiance, and scripted events. Ambiance is more exploration of a changed environment. For example, food left at tables in outdoor restaurants, various news reports, or the horse carriage without rider in eerily evacuated lower Manhattan. Scripted events are action sequences that occur around the protagonists by sheer luck; a battalion of soldiers showing up right behind the protagonists, jets that buzz the camera, ticks and, later, the monster itself appearing right behind the characters. In the first, the characters are insignificant, and are just surviving in this radically changed city as best they can. In the second the opposite is true, with dramatic things happening, randomly, just when the characters are there to observe them. The environment dramatically reacts to the presence of the characters, instead of the other way around. This goes against the "naturalism" theme of the movie, and is probably its biggest problem.
A few other, random things:
The monster's not that interesting. Director said that J.J. Abrams was trying to create a monster of America in the same sense that Godzilla is the monster of Japan, but its not really interesting enough to be our monster. It reminds me mostly of the space Nazis from the "Resistance" games.6
Geez, these characters are boring; mediocre at best, terrible at worst. Name-wise, I remember Hud the cameraman, but only because of the pun of his name. I think the main douchebag was named Rob, and his girlfriend was named Beth. But Rob's brother, or the two chicks? Can't help you. A good chunk of time was spent trying to make you care about these characters' relationships and personalities, but nothing is particularly memorable or interesting. Rob's trying to rescue his trapped girlfriend is the thrust of the narrative, but Rob's the only one who cares; I sure didn't. If you don't care what the main character is risking his life for (and the lives of all his friends), then there's a problem with your movie. Let me tell you, it sat a lot better with the director's commentary talking over these people.
This movie's supposed to be a somewhat realistic interpretation as to what would happen in a monster movie, but there are problems there. For one thing, with a monster stomping around knocking down eight or nine buildings every fifteen minutes, there should be bodies everywhere. I realize that the studio was going for a PG-13 movie here and had realistic reservations about depicting the murder of thousands (if not tens of thousands) of New Yorkers, but it's to the detriment of the "real life" premise of the film. Also, you notice how all of the fleeing people are basically adults aged 20-40? Where are the children and elderly people?
There are a couple of good uses of the camera on which the footage is being recorded. For instance, in the tunnels, they use its night vision to good dramatic effect, and then use it as a flashlight to illuminate the bugs, cleverly giving a reason keep them in the shot as much as possible. The moment after that though... Hud, put the fucking camera down and help them hold the damn door! Rob, don't go back for the camera, the monster is RIGHT BEHIND YOU. Gah.
Hey, would this movie had worked better as a compilation of the footage of various survivors? That way you could have all the action sequences you want, as long as they didn't continually happen to the same people. You could still have Rob and Beth and the rest, but you could cut right from the head sequence to them breaking into her apartment, and have other people fight bugs and find military bases and whatever in between. They could die, crossover... I dunno, maybe?
Phew. Okay, I never have to watch or think about "Cloverfield" again.
1Please excuse my not linking the video. I write this blog for fun, and when I started digging through youtube footage for it, I was not having fun.
2Of course we already have an "American Godzilla," his name is King Kong. In fact, Godzilla is just Japan's King Kong.
3Yes, I know the movie is like seven hours of footage edited down into two, so there's plenty of "real time" between sequences, but still.
4A friend of mine suggested that there was more than one monster, explaining its "sudden appearance." While the military's dialogue doesn't completely rule it out, it suggests otherwise.
5On the other hand... you could say that it's the newscasters trying to deal with an unbelievable, patently scientifically impossible event by focusing on anything but the obvious. They're focusing on the inconsequential things falling off of the monster instead of the monster, because maybe they can't really accept the fact that Godzilla is real? Even so, that'd still make them some crappy reporters...
6I love the "Resistance" series. "So, you like "Halo" and you like WW2, huh? Well then do I got the game for you!"
Saturday, January 15, 2011
I guess you're right, Principal Tanzarian
Oh my god. Everyone drop what you're doing, go out, and buy the Simpsons on DVD. There's a commentary on every single episode, and they are incredible.
Remember the episode "The Principal and the Pauper?" It was the one that revealed that Principal Skinner is actually Arman Tanzarian, and the real Seymour Skinner comes back and takes over. The town and his mother decide they liked the old Seymour better, so they run the real Seymour Skinner out of town on a rail and have a judge declare that Arman is now Seymour Skinner and that nobody will ever mention this again.
It's a terrific ending that serves as a great commentary on the never changing world of Springfield, but apparently a great many people hated it when it first aired. Even my brother confided that the ending kinda bothers him. But you see... Springfield is a town that likes things the way they are, and doesn't respond well to change. So are the fans who got angry at the changes to Skinner.
The episode is about the people who hate it.
Good god. Buy those DVDs, folks.
Remember the episode "The Principal and the Pauper?" It was the one that revealed that Principal Skinner is actually Arman Tanzarian, and the real Seymour Skinner comes back and takes over. The town and his mother decide they liked the old Seymour better, so they run the real Seymour Skinner out of town on a rail and have a judge declare that Arman is now Seymour Skinner and that nobody will ever mention this again.
It's a terrific ending that serves as a great commentary on the never changing world of Springfield, but apparently a great many people hated it when it first aired. Even my brother confided that the ending kinda bothers him. But you see... Springfield is a town that likes things the way they are, and doesn't respond well to change. So are the fans who got angry at the changes to Skinner.
The episode is about the people who hate it.
Good god. Buy those DVDs, folks.
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