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Tomb Raider: The Verdict

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Tomb Raider is out! Before I launch into what I thought of it, I suggest you read my latest Character Select, which is about the new Lara Croft. I have now written nine Character Select articles, two of which have been about Lara Croft. Make of that what you will. That article represents a fairly detached view of the new game, in which I look at the cultural and commercial reasons why Lara Croft was transformed from this:


 ...into this...


It's the same reason Casino Royale began with a macho James Bond setting out on his first mission as 007, just four years after Die Another Day showed him racing an invisible car across an iceberg whilst being pursued by a deadly ray of fire controlled by an immortal red-haired North Korean prince before para-surfing along a giant wave to go and rescue Halle Berry from a melting ice palace.

Lara had got to a point where she couldn't grow any more. She'd found (and destroyed) Altantis, explored the Norse underworld and even stolen a meteorite from inside an alien spacecraft. There really is nowhere you can go from there without becoming completely self-parodic, which many would argue she'd already done.

Consequently, she had to change, which is why Crystal Dynamics decided to reboot the series with an origin story. Like Casino Royale and Batman Begins (2005) it revamped a series that even its most avid followers admitted was growing tired, and on the whole it fulfilled all the hopes that I had for it when I wrote this piece on it last year, in which I said:

It might be great. It just might.

It might not be the game we grew up with, but it may forge its own identity and become a powerful, compelling story in its own right, maybe even with some decent gameplay.

For all I write about Tomb Raider, I don't think it should be reserved a permanent place at the high table of gaming just because it's got a great legacy. If it really has passed its sell-by date, lay it to rest, let something else take its place, give new designers a voice, but let's give it one last chance to prove itself.

I hope it can. 

The risks Crystal Dynamics took with the plot and the gameplay paid off. The game didn't quite feel like Tomb Raider to me (which I'll get to shortly), but it was a brilliant, unique game with a very human protagonist, and I'm currently working my way through it for the second time. It's also enjoyed huge commercial and critical success, which hopefully paves the way for many more character-driven, exploration-based video game stories.


Officially, I'm thrilled for it.

Unofficially, I'm still a fangirl and there are several things I was initially a bit unsure about, some of which eventually grew on me. Most of those things are down to personal preference rather than any fault with the game itself, but after spending the last couple of weeks wearing a journalist hat (an Anthony Eden as modelled by Don Draper), it's a relief to take it off and wear a fangirl hat (modelled here by someone I saw in the Goldsmiths library once).

The biggest of these is swimming, one of my favourite things to do both in Tomb Raider and in real life. Tomb Raider has always been about the full use of three dimensional spaces, and swimming has always been an extension of that. Many Tomb Raider games feature huge three-dimensional puzzles which you solve by changing the level of the water in a room, and swimming in the pool in Lara's house is one of the first things new Raiders ever do.

There are few games which use water to add interest to platforming in this way. Come to think of it, there aren't that many games that actually have swimming in them full stop. A lot of characters simply die or climb out when you drop them in the water while others, like Nathan Drake, just paddle around on the surface. Off the top of my head I can only think of Lara and, erm, Spyro the Dragon, who could really swim in three dimensions. I really missed swimming this game and I hope it only got left out because there wasn't the time and budget to do it properly and that it makes its way into the sequel.


It also took me a while to get used to Lara Croft's actress, Camilla Luddington. This is partly her accent; Luddington was raised in both the US and the UK and thus has a slight mid-Atlantic twang. At first I found this irritating because it seemed like Crystal Dynamics, being as American as most of the people who made Mary Poppins, hired Luddington purely on the basis that having already played Kate Middleton (yes, really) she was the very epitome of Britishness, even though to my ears she couldn't have sounded less so.

The heavy breathing throughout the first four hours of the game did not help me warm to her. But as the game went on and the character grew stronger and more resilient, so the performance grew on me. I also realised that having an adventurous father who no doubt took her all over the world as a child, it made sense that Lara might not have a Home Counties accent.

I also really liked Luddington's physical performance. Motion capture is key to the narrative's success and Tomb Raider may well be the best I have ever seen. This is partly down to the brilliant animators, of course, who seamlessly blend motion capture with the things it would be impossible to film, but it's also down to nuances on Luddington's part, like the way walks with slightly hunched shoulders and frequently reaches out to nervously touch her surroundings.


She also has real weight, which is still exceptionally rare in games. Nathan Drake seems bouncy by comparison. When she jumps, she hits the ground with tangible thud. When she hauls herself up onto a ledge it's with one knee, as a person, rather than a gymnast would do it. She is possibly the most human feeling character I have ever controlled in a video game, which makes the game extremely immersive.

What makes the game less immersive is the enormous body count, which I suppose is understandable given that if there's any shooting, there really has to be a lot of it otherwise, like all game mechanics that get a disproportionately low amount of playing time, it seems odd and out of place. I won't dwell on this since a lot of critics have raised it as an issue with the narrative (most amusingly Yahtzee, with whom I grudgingly agree, as usual), but it is still worth mentioning.

Also worth mentioning is this interview with Tomb Raider's writer Rhianna Pratchett, in which she discusses the difficulties that come with writing for games:

"I always joke about… how writers are used as narrative paramedics that are just sort of parachuted in to fix up a bleeding story. That does happen a lot. I don't tend to take on those projects, but I know a lot of talented, hard-working games writers that do, and that's kind of what needs to change. Writers do need to be involved in the process. It's not about writing specifically, in that the actual writing down the words bit is only one part of being a writer in games. It is about building the world, it is about bringing narrative logic, it is about using gameplay mechanics to define characters and themes. That is all stuff that would benefit from being done earlier. I think the term 'writer' somewhat scuppers us. The earlier that you're involved, the more you can bring to a project. It's as simple as that really."

She clearly states that she doesn't "tend to take on those projects" so she's not really talking about Tomb Raider here, but the general idea that narrative is often an afterthought to gameplay is very true. So often you play a game where you get the sense that a developer has spent years making a game about someone who kills a lot of people, calls a writer and says: "Hi, can you make this guy likeable please?"


Tomb Raider is not one of those games because for the most part the gameplay and the narrative are closely tied together. A good example of this is the way Lara's skills slowly develop as you play, both in terms of her basic abilities and the quality of her equipment, which she upgrades herself at campfires, using salvage. This reflects the character's growing confidence and emotional resiliance in the face of adversity.

The narrative is neither helped nor hindered by Lara's friends, for the simple reason that compared to her, they're just not very interesting. There's orphaned Lara's father-figure Roth, whom Lara refers to as "you northern bastard" in a way that no-one with any actual northern friends ever would, tough girl Reyes, profound island man Jonah, mutton-chop-sporting Scot "Grim" (I'm sorry, I must put his name in quote marks) and Alex, whose "Esc" T-Shirt is already a cosplay favourite.


The other two survivors of Lara's shipwreck are slightly more interesting; Samantha because she has to be (as Lara's best friend she provides motivation throughout) and Dr. James Whitman because as the game's token douche, he provides most of the conflict, or at least all the conflict that doesn't involve burning arrows. Like BioShock, both characters and narrative are fleshed out with convenient diary entries left scattered around the island. I love how the survivors have time to bash out some quick prose in between bouts of hysterical crying.

Finding these diaries, and indeed all kinds of other hidden goodies, necessitates thorough exploration, and it's when I was doing this that I most enjoyed Tomb Raider. I loved figuring out how I was going to reach hidden areas, and what kind of tools I would need to do so. I also relished the sense that every new piece of equipment meant I could return to a past area and uncover more of its secrets.

Exploration in the game is exemplified by tombs, hidden challenge rooms ("hidden" in the sense that whenever you're even slightly near one these bells start jangling and the words "HIDDEN TOMB NEARBY" obscure the entire screen) containing a single puzzle that you have to solve to reach a treasure chest. Now, not only are these tombs both rare and entirely optional - making the game's title a bit of a misnomer - but they are easy. Ridiculously easy. There is not one that I had to stop and think about.


I understand that because this game has a strong narrative, pacing is important in a way that it wasn't for earlier games, but if the tombs are optional anyway, what would the harm in making the puzzles a little bigger and more challenging? If players getting stuck and frustrated was a development concern, fair enough, but none of the compulsory material presents much of a mental challenge, so why not throw in a little more depth for those who want it?

The answer is because that's a silly argument and that you might as well say "Tetris is alright but I really like shooters, why not put in a shooting section for players who really like that stuff? It wouldn't have made the falling block bits any worse". I think by this stage Crystal Dynamics have demonstrated that they know what they're doing and bigger puzzles might actually have hampered the game, especially if implementing them would have taken resources away from core mechanics. If I had to choose between puzzles and swimming I'd have to go with swimming because I feel it could add depth and texture to the gameplay and the environment without really changing much (there's plenty of water in the game, but Lara just wades in it), while I understand that more puzzles could un-balance it.

Besides, Crystal Dynamics' previous game, Lara Croft and the Guardian of Light, had lots of puzzles and they have mentioned that they'd like to make more games like that. If this means I have to head to the XBLA for our 3D-puzzle fix while AAA Lara takes care of the action/story stuff, fine.



So what next for Lara? I hope it's another Tomb Raider, this game ended on such a high that I can't wait for the next one. I also hope to see another puzzle-heavy Lara Croft title in the vein of The Guardian of Light and let's not forget that there's a film on the way.

This time last year I would never have predicted that I would say this, but now I really can imagine Lara Croft still being around in fifty years, just like Bond. I didn't love this game as much as I loved the classic Core Design games, but it's right for the times. If Lara carries on, there will be good games and bad games, experiments that don't work out and flukes tha come out of nowhere. Whatever happens, I hope she keeps re-inventing herself and that I'm still writing about her whenever she does. For as Erich Fried once said: "he who wants the world to remain as it is doesn't want it to remain at all."

As ever, thanks to Katie for the screenshots. They're from the PC version of the game and there are many more where they came from over at Katie's Tomb Raider Site.

Clementine and existential angst.

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The Tomb Raider article wasn't the only thing I've written for GodisaGeek recently. Back in February (gosh, February) I wrote another Character Select piece, this one on little Clementine from The Walking Dead.

Clementine. Devastating.

The Walking Dead is probably the most upsetting game I have ever played, which you can probably tell by reading that piece. I'm pretty sure I didn't update Well-Rendered with it earlier because I found it so unpleasant to write. Honestly, I haven't even re-read it since I submitted it to the GodisaGeek editors, I can't even remember if it's any good.

Fun times.


Final Fantasy VII Playthrough: Part 5 - Exploring the Slums

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Hello, and welcome back to the Final Fantasy VII playthrough. Just so you have a sense of scale, I'm now two hours into the game after playing it for five months. This is a 100-hour game, which means that at this pace, I won't be finished for another twenty years.

Because there's nothing I'd rather do with the next two decades than wander around a pretend slum, let's get down to it.

Cloud talks to some locals.

THAT'S MEN FOR YOU AMIRITE LADIES?

Actually, when I head inside the pipe I feel bad for making a sexist joke because the poor fellow is clearly in a bad way. 

Unlike lots of men, this guy can't even say "beer". I know this because some of my best friends are men.

His TV is on so I can't completely rule out video game-induced catatonia, but that wouldn't explain the trophies (unless it was Starcraft or something) and his suspicious tattoo, which Aeris had to point out to me because I can't make out a darn thing at this resolution. Neither or us can make any sense of this peculiar interlude, but I presume its purpose will become clear later in the game.

Unwilling to spend any more time around him than I have to, I hop out of the pipe and back into the street/ditch. I head to an abandoned bus that someone seems to have turned into some kind of homestead.


Inside, it's actually a weapon shop. This is an example of the game's excellent "set" design. I love the katana lying on the couch, the bullet casings strewn across the table and the floor (best not to imagine how they got there) and enormous, terrifying flamethrower just sat nonchalantly in the back.

I love how the proprietor is wearing a bow-tie.

I decide to buy a couple of "Titan Bangles" because Aeris and Cloud aren't very well equipped. In the process I sell the bangle Aeris was wearing when we met, so I do hope she wasn't too attached to it. Whilst checking Aeris' loadout, I come across a disturbing truth...

Her fringe is taller than her head.

That's right people. NO ACCESSORIES. How is she meant to ward off evil and remain alluring without so much as a fancy hairslide? Seriously. First branch of Claire's we come to, I'm sorting this out.

In the meantime, I decide to barge into some more people's houses.

Having recently made my way through Hyperdimension Neptunia Victory, I have a newfound respect for Final Fantasy VII's dialogue, and the way that every word illuminates the characters, the world or the plot. This is because it has been edited with extreme discipline, and while I wouldn't have it any other way, this can mean that it's a little too declaratory to sound natural, particularly when you just wander into people's houses and they stop watching TV to talk politics with you.

Live in a shed, still have a 50-inch TV. Priorities.

Yeah, down with President Shinra! That guy's a dick.


Oh, never mind.

I decide to get out of his house before he asks me why I have reactor dust in my hair, but (crucially) not before I've explored the rest of his house.


Wow, awkward. I sort of wish I hadn't come up here. Why is he glugging and lying on his side? Is that a dead crab on his bedside table? And, ew, what am I standing in?

Gross. That'll teach me to wander into people's bedrooms uninvited. On to the next corrugated iron shack.


She did not.

That's probably because she knew that freezers usually contain quest items and that if you can manage it, breaking into them usually yields rich rewards. Not in this case though, it's too heavily-guarded. I am pretty sure I will either have to come back later if I want to open up this freezer.

Back outside...


You know what I was saying about all the dialogue in this game being well-edited and relevant? I can only hope this is a clue to some hidden quest, and not some half-baked attempt at philosophy.

With all this breaking and entering, I've almost forgotten what I'm meant to be doing, and that is taking Aeris home. We head out through a tunnel and emerge by her house.


Wait, what? How come everyone else in the Midgar slums lives in decaying aluminum shells with dead crabs on the floor and Aeris gets to live here?

I'm guessing the bright blue stuff is Mako rather than water, or at least very polluted water, but all the same, that house is so darn cute that I'm beginning to think there's something a little odd about her. Other than the fact that she hangs out in an empty church planting daffodils all day. And the fact that mercenaries keep chasing her and calling her "The Ancient". And her There's Something about Mary hair.

We head inside. I mention something about wanting to get back to Tifa's bar and Aeris asks me if Tifa is my girlfriend.


It genuinely took me about five minutes to decide what to say here. This is because I haven't been playing the game for that long and I'm not sure if I really like Tifa in that way yet. This kind of question comes up in Mass Effect quite a lot but by that time I've had many hours (most of them exposition) to decide which spandex-clad alien hottie I'd rather take back to my cabin.

I'm trying to make out like I'm all cool about it, but I'm really not. What I say here could have a huge impact on what happens later and it's not a decision I want to take lightly.

Eventually, I decide to say "No way!" although that sounds a little harsh on poor Tifa and I wish there was some other option, like "we're just friends" or "I care about her a lot" or "dude seriously what is with your hair".

So anyway, I tell Aeris this, and she laughs in my face.


That'll teach me to share my feelings. On the plus side, this dialogue box is smaller than the last one, which means I can see more of Aeris' ridiculously nice house.

Then Aeris' mum comes downstairs, sees Aeris has a handsome (again, just guessing here) gentleman caller and thus instructs her to go and make up the guest bed. Aeris does that, leaving me alone with her mother, whose name is Elmyra.


Initially, I am glad of the change of perspective that allows me to see the pattern on their fancy rug, but I have to stop gawping because Elmyra notices that I have SOLDIER's telltale sparkly eyes.

She asks me to leave without telling Aeris because "the last thing Aeris needs is to get hurt again". I'm guessing I'll find out more about the first time shoe got hurt at some other point. I thought about leaving right then because she seemed like a nice lady who only had Aeris' best interests at heart, but my desire to go upstairs and nose around her house was too strong.

Where did Aeris get a rug like that? Is that a standard room shape in Midgar?

I head upstairs, where Aeris has just finished making up the bed. It's pretty cosy, so I fall into a deep sleep. The Final Fantasy sleep jingle doesn't play, which means it's flashback time!


No, the girls never leave me alone. They hang around in my room watching me sleep.


I'm guessing this is my mum. She berates me a bit more for not having a girlfriend, and says that she'd like me to have an older one. Mum, get off my case, seriously. It's bad enough that my bed is in the middle of the living room without you nagging me about my personal life.

Geez. It's no wonder I ran off with SOLDIER.

I wake from this unpleasant dream and decide to escape quickly, as Elmyra asked me to. I ran out of my room, but this woke Aeris up.


I went back to bed, waited, and then walked quietly down the stairs and out of the house. I hope Aeris knows I didn't just abandon her, and that I left (probably) for her own good.

I'm about to leave through the exit to the Sector 6 slum when...


Um, ok. I decide not to think too hard about a) how she got there before me and b) whether she's stalking me and decide that another pair of hands wielding a pointy stick will probably be useful where we're going.


That's some pretty disturbing debris.

While I'm wondering what that enormous hand was attached to, we get attacked.


Ok, this is just a house. I think this must have something to do with the aged graphics. In Final Fantasy XIII, which has probably my favourite monster design of the whole series, there's a huge variation between even similar kinds of monsters because the graphics allow for great detail. Final Fantasy VII, not so much. In order to make the monsters distinctive, they have to be completely different from each other. And as any schoolchild knows, the opposite of "robot ninja" is "barn".


The house casts "Hell Bomber" on us, and we take some damage. If only there was some way of restoring loads of health without using up any mana or potions...

ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED

Oh, that's useful. Aeris' limit is a magical fart that heals wounds. I wish mine did that.

We meet a few more houses and Aeris casts "Healing Wind" a few more times. I must remember to buy beans the next time I raid someone's fridge. We emerge outside a dilapidated playground.


Because everything's such a mess in this part of the world, it's hard to tell whether this playground is still in use of whether it's been abandoned.


We hang out in the playground for a while and Aeris starts talking to me about my time in SOLDIER. She mentions that her first boyfriend was also in SOLDIER, and though they weren't serious, she did really like him. I think about asking her about him when...


A cart that strongly resembles the Childcatcher's wagon from Chitty Chitty Bang Bangtrundles past. I thought that was a shop mannequin on the back because IT DOESN'T HAVE A FACE but Cloud somehow recognises it as Tifa in a sexy dress.


Aeris? It is not cool to say your rival looks "kind of odd" before you've even been introduced. I'm the man, I will be the judge of that. It's not her fault she doesn't have a face.

We follow her because the Womancatcher wagon probably isn't taking her anywhere good, and she probably needs rescuing. We end up in a lurid district of the slums, which Aeris points out is not safe for girls.

We have to move fast.


Where did Tifa go? Who was she with? WHY DIDN'T SHE HAVE A FACE?

The answers to these and possibly more questions will be found in the next episode of the Final Fantasy VII playthrough, published at some point between now and Christmas.

Goodbye Roger Ebert.

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Here is my review of Hyperdimension Neptunia Victory. Like its name, the game is is rambling and incoherent, if colourful.

Is that smutty or just incoherent?

It also reinforced my dislike of having to summarise a 2,000 review with a mark out of ten. I gave it a six which, due to video game review score inflation, is effectively total damnation, but I would actually recommend it to "people who like that sort of thing".

"That sort of thing", of course, being incredibly detailed, slightly pervy 2D-novel style anime JRPGs with mechanics that focus on collectibles and customisation. It's a niche genre, but one with a large fanbase, and Hyperdimension Neptunia Victory's publishers NIS America cater to it admirably, putting a huge amount of effort into good quality localisation.

That fanbase contains the people who are actually going to search for a review of Hyperdimension Neptunia Victory because they want to know the details, so the review and the score is for them. It's not really for GodisaGeek's more mainstream readers. That group might stumble across the review and (I hope) find it interesting, but all they really need take away from it in a practical sense is it that it's not for them.

Plutia gains some XP.

A comparable demographic in the film world is the audience for low-budget horror films. There is plenty of specialist criticism of the genre for its fans. Kim Newman, for example, writes a video nasty column in Empire entitled "Kim Newman's Video Dungeon" in which he reviews low-budget, straight-to-DVD releases. He's an educated connoisseur of the genre and his reviews are generally as scathing as their subjects deserve, but the point is that when he does recommend something, it's on the understanding that it's only a recommendation if you're in the market for gratuitous gore and nudity.

Like video nasties, I think niche games should be awarded review scores based on their relative appeal to their audience rather than their overall appeal to gamers, otherwise what's the point? I didn't really enjoy Hyperdimension Neptunia Victory, but I understand what it's trying to do and I've read enough fan commentary on it to know what the hardcore fans want out of it. So I'm not going to give it a two out of ten simply on the basis that a BioShock fan will hate it.

Neptune and Noire have a serious discussion.

This is an approach I take to all video game reviews that I write. As a consequence, they tend to be fairly utilitarian; I know people come to them wanting to know whether to drop £40 on a game and I aim to help them make that decision. I try and make them fun to read and maintain a consistent thread throughout, but when a publisher gives me a game in good faith, I feel I must put fair analysis ahead of my desire to write something entertaining.

It's possible to do both of course, which is where the film critic Roger Ebert, who died this week, comes in. He argued for reviewing films on their relative, rather than absolute merits, on the basis that different genres serve different audiences and purposes. His review of Shaolin Soccer contains a quote that illuminates his approach:

"When you ask a friend if Hellboy is any good, you're not asking if it's any good compared to Mystic River, you're asking if it's any good compared to The Punisher. And my answer would be, on a scale of one to four, if Superman is four, then Hellboy is three and The Punisher is two. In the same way, if American Beauty gets four stars, then The United States of Leland clocks in at about two."

It's on this basis that he refused to conclude his review of the nastiest of video nasties, The Human Centipede with a score at all ("it is what it is and occupies a world where the stars don't shine," he remarked), and said of Lara Croft: Tomb Raider:

"Lara Croft: Tomb Raider elevates goofiness to an art form. Here is a movie so monumentally silly, yet so wondrous to look at, that only a churl could find fault."


A churl like me!

A long time ago I wrote an article about why I disliked the Tomb Raider movies. The main reason was that Angelina Jolie didn't really play the games. I took great offence to this because at the time I thought Tomb Raider was the most important thing in the world, and that even speaking its name without having played all the games at least four times was tantamount to blasphemy. While I still think Tomb Raider is the most important thing in the world, I now realise that nothing is actually particularly important, so it doesn't matter whether Angelina Jolie played the games or not.

My other grievance, that the character in the film doesn't have much in common with the character in the games, contradicts my general opinion that a film adaptation of something should be first and foremost a good film, not a worthy or faithful adaptation.


For example, mockumentary A Cock and Bull Story is an adaptation of sprawling eighteenth-century metanovel The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman that stars Steve Coogan as himself. It is altogether a better film than the bland, plodding Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, which is basically just a moving version of, erm, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, and arguably a more effective adaptation in that it continues a dialogue with its source material using a set of tools that only films have.

I could have namechecked all manner of adaptations there, but I chose that one because I want the internet to know that I have actually read The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman. Yeah.

Anyway, in the Tomb Raider article I brought up Roger Ebert and his famously ill-advised condemnation of video games. Like most gamers who got incredibly angry about his comments, I didn't know the first thing about Ebert or his approach to film criticism. If I had, I probably wouldn't have called him a "dinosaur".


Ebert later admitted that while he stood by his comments about games on principle, he should never have aired them without taking the time to play them. Although the original article is worth a read (though not if you're easily angered), the second is wonderful, even if you don't agree with it. It concludes as follows:

"I had to be prepared to agree that gamers can have an experience that, for them, is Art. I don't know what they can learn about another human being that way, no matter how much they learn about Human Nature. I don't know if they can be inspired to transcend themselves. Perhaps they can. How can I say? I may be wrong, but if I'm not willing to play a video game to find that out, I should say so. I have books to read and movies to see. I was a fool for mentioning video games in the first place."

Yes. If you want to argue for or against something, go out there and educate yourself. If you consider the research process to be a waste of your time (because you have books to read and movies to see), count yourself out of the debate. That's fine, you won't be missed.

This hopefully just means that you'll be all the better at doing what you do best, which in Ebert's case was reviewing all manner of films with sincerity, diplomacy and humour.


Nintendo Hyper 8-bit... Tori Amos?

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When you have diverse tastes, it not often that someone puts your favourite things together. Not even on the internet, where entire blogs are dedicated to chronicling video game toilets.

So you can understand why I had to have a little alone time when I discovered this incredible chiptune cover of the whole of Tori Amos' apocalyptic baroque dance* album From The Choirgirl Hotel by Daryl Banner.


I've said before that the Donkey Kong Land games have some of my favourite soundtracks because the brilliance of the compositions means they're not only listenable in 8-bit but also listenable the 10,000th time you hear them, which all people who have played Donkey Kong will know because those games were so hard.

Banner's masterful covers brought back all that I loved about those euphoric soundtracks, and the hypnotic effect they had on me as I switched into the trance-like state I needed to in order to let my reflexes play the game for me (the only way to do it on the harder levels). They also bring out things I have never heard in Amos' compositions before.

I have listened to From The Choirgirl Hotel hundreds of times. Although I notice something new on each occasion, not being especially musical, I didn't pick up on many of the musical layers and phrases I heard after listening to Banner's version. I am now going to go back and listen to Choirgirl again to try and find them.

This find has made my day, and has reinforced how happy I am to live in an age where someone can create this little piece of art that fuses incredible compositions with a beloved musical medium, put it on the internet and distribute it for free (yes!) so that fans of those things can put it on a device about the size of a Quality Street and listen to it wherever they go.

The Lord of the Rings-esque drawing in the Choirgirl sleevenotes.

It's now in my music library alongside that other game-inspired classic, Mega Ran & Lost Perception's Black Materia album.

Thanks internet!


*Music genres are all made up, right?

Final Fantasy VII Playthrough: Part 6 - The Don's Mansion

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Last time, Aeris and I (well, Cloud. I'm getting into the role-playing aspect of this role-playing game) were on our way to Sector 7 when we were waylaid by a womancatcher wagon all decked out with things women like, such as plant pots and giant chickens.

Despite the plant pots, we would have walked on by were it not for the fact that it was carrying my childhood friend, Tifa.

Thus, we postponed our plans and decided to follow the womancatcher wagon in order to get Tifa back.

We found our way into Wall Market, which turns out to be a wretched hive of scum and villainy. I'm quite happy about this because I was growing weary of all the relentless salt-of-the-earthness and total lack of moral ambiguity that we found elsewhere in the Midgar slums.

Now that we're here, I decide the best thing to do is start talking to people to see if they've seen Tifa. The first person we meet pays Aeris a complement.


Interesting. Is there a place around here for connoisseurs of good-looking heifers?



Thanks dude.

Being new in town, I decide to gather some information about this "Don" before cashing in my heifer. I drag her south to a classy-looking establishment.


Clearly he hasn't seen the good-looking heifer I'm with. I ask him if he's seen Tifa. He tells me that he has, and gives me a good idea as to where she might be.


It seems Aeris is not the only good-looking heifer around here. We head to Don Corneo's mansion. Even if I don't find Tifa, I could probably get some Gil for Aeris then spend the rest of the game at the Honey Bee Inn. Unfortunately, Don Corneo's bouncer informs me that men aren't allowed in the mansion.

I'm about to return to the Honey Bee when Aeris pulls me aside. She has a cunning plan.


Yeah, like I haven't heard that before.

Now, I don't have any ladies' clothes in my inventory, so this almost certainly means a Fetch Quest. We go to a clothing store but the girl behind the counter tells me that her "crazy old dad" is the one who makes all the clothes, and he's drowning his sorrows down the local. We seek him out.

He's reluctant to help us, so Aeris spins him a story with absolutely no truth to it.


 He is incredulous.


Oh, dude. It's always the tough ones.
 
It's at this point that, as you will know if you've played Final Fantasy VII, the player has to correctly choose what kind of dress they want in order to increase their chances of getting into the Don's mansion without incident. Now, I considered winging it, but since I'm recording this journey, for, um, posterity or something, I decided to make myself look as knowledgeable about cross-dressing as possible, so I followed a walkthrough in order to know in advance exactly what kind of dress to ask for.

I'm sorry if this shatters the illusion of virtual gonzo journalism I've thus far cultivated.


We return to the dress shop where my soft and shimmery silk dress is waiting to be picked up.

This sequence actually made me quite emotional because I'm getting married in real life, which this means that sooner or later I'll be trying on dresses in boutiques much like this one, give or take a drunk old man in a flat cap.

While my bridesmaid Aeris waits outside, I try to get changed, but being unused to wearing silk dresses (probably), I get stuck.


Like all the best bridesmaids, Aeris knows when to withhold tact in favour of brutal honesty.


The drunk guy in a flat cap suggests we head to the gym because "you'll find a lot of people there like you". I'm passed the point of protesting, so we oil our nipples and enter the gym.


I don't know whether the double entendre there is deliberate, or just yet another happy accident of Japanese to English localisation.

He wants me to "beat" him at a squatting competition, which combines everyone's two favourite things, quick time events and executing console controls with a keyboard.


Hur hur.

I win the squatting contest on the fifth try (multiple goes enabled by the metafictional paradox that is the save/load system), and that win shall be the canonical version of events, even though if you lose, you get a wig Big Bro pulls out of somewhere unsanitary, which is funnier than the "Blonde Wig" you get for defeating him.

I then undertake a sub-Fetch Quest for a man in a fabric shop, and for my troubles he gives me a trinket, saying "it's not much".


Diamond shmiamond.

I continue Fetch Questing. It would be very difficult to acquire all the items necessary to make Cloud look his best without a walkthrough, almost all of them require you to select the correct dialogue option, and there's usually no indication of which answer is correct. Of course, if you pick the wrong ones you don't fail, you just end up looking less attractive in a dress, but I'd still argue it relies too much of luck, rather than logic, to be truly effective game design.

The next item, I discover from ffextreme.com (thanks guys), must be acquired through yet more circuitous methods. I go to a sushi bar, order "Today's Special" and give my verdict.


In return, he gives me a pharmacy coupon, which is illogical. Nevertheless, I go and cash it in.


Now, if I was playing this without a walkthrough, I would have selected the "Deodorant" on the basis that my monster slaying has probably left me smelling a little too pungent for the Don's tender nostrils. But I'm playing with a walkthrough (cheating, basically), so I know that what I actually want is the Digestive, which is not, I hasten to add, a kind of biscuit.

Because digestives aren't sexy, I need to find a way to exchange it for something more alluring. I return to the bar where I first found the drunk dressmaker and burst in on the person being sick in the loo.


I thrust the digestive at her. It works instantly, and she gives me something she's been carrying around in her pocket this whole time, and that I can only hope has not been tainted by whatever it was that sent her toiletwards in the first place.


Nice.

My outfit is now nearly complete, but there's still something missing. Being the self-sacrificing type, I decide to finally pay a visit to the Honey Bee Inn.


Aeris laughs when I say this, as if I'm going to enjoy it or something. What does she know.

Inside, I'm faced with a choice of five rooms. Two are occupied.


For Tifa's sake, I take a peek.


Yawn!

I'm about to turn away from this totally pedestrian sexy talk when I hear something interesting.


People who like kinky sex are always evil.

Because I definitely don't like kinky sex, I check in on some of the Honey Bees themselves.


Why do people keep saying that?

It's time to get what I came for. Whatever that is. First, I need to choose a room.


I consider myself an adventurous guy, but I'm not sure I want to know what "&$#%" is.


See, that sounds much safer. What could possibly go wrong in there?


Oh.


I should note that the music that's playing while all this is going on is really cheerful and bouncy, which makes what is otherwise just a totally normal group sex sequence feel slightly seedy.

Actually, I should say at this point that I am honestly pretty shocked. The first Final Fantasy games I played were on the PlayStation 2, and there is nothing particularly rude in any of them. Final Fantasy VII is a game that thousands of people around the world fell in love with as children so I'm a bit surprised by the amount of sex in it. I guess it might go over the heads of younger people, but still, it's pretty naughty stuff.


Thanks. I guess.

At least it looks like I've finally got my outfit together. Aeris picks up a foxy dress too, and we return to the Don's mansion.


Inside the mansion I get a good look at Aeris' dress.


PHWOAR. Probably. It's hard to tell at this resolution.

Before I get too distracted, we start looking for Tifa.


As I suspected, she's chilling in the sex dungeon. After a slightly awkward moment when she and Aeris meet properly for the first time (they assure each other there's nothing going on between them and me, which is hurtful, but whatevs), Tifa explains how the Don likes his ladies.


As if this situation wasn't awkward enough already.


Well! I guess the silk dress, blonde wig, diamond tiara, sexy cologne and bikini briefs did the trick! The Don picks me!

My ego is so pumped by being chosen the hawtest girl in the posse, I totally forget why I came here in the first place. Also I'm kind of hypnotised by the Don's mirror ball.


Just as I'm about to lose myself in the moment completely, my buddies burst in, reminding me what I came for. I shake off my disguise.


We interrogate the Don. Aeris reveals her scary side.


Terrified, the Don tells us his mission.


Uh-oh.

At this point, Don Corneo pulls a lever, opening the floor beneath us. It happened too fast for me to grab a screenshot so you'll have to take my word for it.

As we fall, the action cuts away to Shinra's HQ.


Oooh, that Shinra!


That's a nice metaphor. I wonder if it foreshadows anything that Tifa, Aeris and I will have to face shortly? Heidegger and Reeve exit Shinra's office and he's left to do some expositional monologuing.


Look, you can tell he's evil, he has a cigar.


Tifa, Aeris and I land in the sewers. Interestingly, we all lost our foxy dresses on the way down. I'm reminded of the fact that Tifa's normal outfit is actually more revealing than her escort getup. This is clearly affecting her state of mind, and she starts to panic. Before I can reassure her, we are attacked.


That yellow thing to its left is a sword, not excrement. Though I had to look twice. The beast casts "Sewer Tsunami". Clearly that dialogue in Shinra's office was foreshadowing.


Ew.

We defeat the sewer beast and some angry turtles, eventually emerging in an abandoned train station. Following the excitement of the Don's mansion, the reality of our situation starts to sink in.


Aeris won't hear of an apology, and it's too late to turn back. Between us, we resolve to make our way through the train station, out the other side, and rescue our friends before it's too late...

Real Life: The Video Game

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I try and keep real life out of this video game blog as much as possible because if real life was so great, I wouldn't spend so much time playing video games.

But sometimes real life is great. Even better than video games.

Jade is all like "WTF?"

I know. Stick with me on this!

Recently, I've discovered this first hand. As you can imagine, this was pretty shocking for someone who just three months ago thought her life had reached its apex with the release of Daryl Banner's chiptune cover of From the Choirgirl Hotel.

Everyone agreed: that 16 bit version of Raspberry Swirl was bitchin'.

As I sneakily mentioned in my last post, where it will have gone unread by anyone not interested in Final Fantasy VII, I recently got engaged. This made me incredibly happy because I really like the person I got engaged to and if our Super Smash TV exploits are anything to go by, we make an excellent team. At the very least, we will never be short of brand new toasters.

I mention this partly because there is a definite hole in the market for video games journalism with a bridal focus, and partly because my decision to get married as opposed to devoting myself to a life of video game nunnery took no small amount of thought.

Women. Give them a big rock and they're yours.

Sorry to get all heavy, but if you get married without wholly committing to the other person and the work it may sometimes take to keep you both together (in every sense), you're potentially leaving everyone involved open to a lot of pain and sadness.

It was with this in mind that, a few weeks ago, I began to look seriously at all the other projects and adventures I'd embarked on over the last few years. Although it's true that none have been lifetime commitments, I wouldn't have started any of them if they weren't worth doing. And as the old adage goes, if something's worth doing, it's worth doing well.

Jade and the family ponder their responsibilities.

Which is why it is with great sadness that I have made the decision to leave GodisaGeek. After two and a half years, eleven editions of Character Select, countless JPRG reviews and one Duke Nukem launch party (another time, readers), I've come to the point where I can no longer devote the time to the site that I would need to in order to produce work of a sufficient quality.

Tempting though it might be to write passable articles and reviews for a site that continues to grow in reach and influence just for the sake of keeping my name there, I want to write things that I'm proud of and that inspire me, and I just can't do that any more without making sacrifices in areas where I really don't want to make sacrifices.

Reality can be scary up close.

My final piece for the site is a Character Select article about Jade from Beyond Good & Evil, one of my favourite games of all time. The article doesn't express my love for the game or the character so much as lament their flaws, but as any writer will know, it's very difficult to compose an engaging piece about how great something is.

Maybe it's too sombre a note on which to end such an important period of my life and writing. It's certainly not my favourite Character Select (that would be the one on Uncharted 3's Katerine Marlowe), because it's so detached, expressing next to nothing about my love for a game that I played and replayed, almost non-stop, throughout a very dark year of my life.

Jade watches the fireflies.

Still, it's honest, well-reasoned and fair, and if my time with GodisaGeek has to end, better that it end with Jade than with Rubi, whom I'm glad I never got round to writing about.

My departure from the site means that I'll have more time for the Final Fantasy VII playthrough, which I now realise was a slightly foolish undertaking, albeit one I'm determined to see through to the bitter end. It also means that besides Well-Rendered, I now have no official extra-curricular projects on the go, a first for me since I left university.

Besides planning my Tomb Raider-themed wedding, of course.

I'm joking! Mum, I promise I'm joking. Though you'd make a very fetching Natla.

Fehn and Jade greet the new day.

So it's with a little trepidation that I face the future without GodisaGeek (though the guys assure me we'll stay friends. Frankly, I think they're just worried I'll tell people what happened at the Duke Nukem launch party). Left to my own devices, unfettered by the chains of editorial reason, I'm not entirely sure what I'll do.

Whatever it is, I hope it's fun for you guys to watch.



Final Fantasy VII Playthrough: Part 7 - Dropping the Plate

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After last week's picaresque jaunt through Wall Market looking for ways to trick an old mobster into bed, Tifa, Aeris and myself have come back down to earth with a bump. Well, actually more like a splash, because the Don threw us into the sewers below his mansion.


This week's episode takes an altogether more serious tone, because after interrogating Don Corneo, we discovered that Shinra are planning to eliminate AVALANCHE by dropping the upper plate of Sector 7 onto the slums below. The three of us need to make our way through this creepy train yard to save the people of the slums before it's too late.

Of course, the train yard is haunted.


We are attacked by a gang of ghosts who keep disappearing, so we have to time our attacks carefully. Poor Aeris, above, misses her chance and is left bewildered.

Proceeding through the train graveyard, we reach some trains which, at this fancy high definition, look oddly distinct.


I get inside one and it moves, creating a path. We push on, hoping to get to Sector 7 before the plate comes down.


In front of the pillar that supports the plate far above Sector 7, the townsfolk are panicking. We look up and see gunfire on the pillar as Shira's agents fight the resistance. As we stare, three small figures are hurled from the structure to the ground below.


One of them lands right by our feet.


It's Wedge, AVALANCHE member and ecoterrorist extraordinaire. He seems touched that I remembered his name, and tells me so as the light fades from his eyes. I can't bring myself to say that I keep getting him confused with the Star Wars character.


While Tifa evacuates the crowd from the danger zone, Aeris resolves to go and rescue Marlene, whom she's never met, from the Seventh Heaven bar. Thus she leaves our party. I forget to grab the materia she was carrying. It's not like she'll need it where she's going. Probably.


Tifa and I climb the pillar. Along the way we encounter Biggs, dangled comically over a railing. I try and suppress my laughter because his neck has clearly been broken and he's definitely going to die.

As we climb, we are repeatedly attached by men in propeller suits who keep attacking us with whirring blades. They evade my sword and Tifa's knuckle dusters, but not my fire spells.


Onwards and upwards. Near the top, we find poor Jessie.


Jessie's bleak final words expose the moral greyness of the first few hours of FinalFantasy VII. Is AVALANCHE's mission a good thing? I mean, sure everyone who works for Shinra is mean and their president smokes a cigar, but does that justify terrorism? Detonating bombs that destroy civilian property probably counts as terrorism. And when counter-terrorism measures result in the deaths of thousands of innocents, do the terrorists share the blame?

Having Shinra drop the plate on Sector 7 at this early stage in the narrative gives the player an interesting perspective because the true impact of Shira's activities has not been revealed yet, so the morality, or lack thereof, of AVALANCHE's crusade is highly ambiguous.


At the top we meet up with Barret, the body of a deceased Shinra heavy at his feet. He's desperately trying to disarm the explosive device that Shinra have planted in the pillar holding up the plate.


Neither Tifa nor I have any luck. Just when it looks like things can't get worse, Reno, the "Turk" who was after Aeris back when the two of us first met, shows up.


Part of me wonders whether he says his own name because if he didn't we would have no idea who he was. No matter.

A scuffle ensues.


Like everyone else, Reno looks way cooler during fights than he does in his super-deformed state.Check out that hair.

It looks like we're going to win the fight, but before we can land the final blows, Reno escapes onto a waiting helicopter. What a wuss, seriously.


The speech bubble obscures the other occupant of the helicopter, but the one we can see is definitely Aeris, who is now, worryingly, Shinra's "special guest".


The speech bubble moves, and we meet a new character, Tseng, who crows about having captured Aeris and his impending victory over AVALANCHE. Barret, Tifa and I stare on in horror.


The bomb detonates and the helicopter, carrying Reno, Tseng and Aeris, escapes. The three of us need to hurry if we're going to make it out with our lives.


Like Luke and Leia (and, like, one extra one), we swing from the pillar just as it falls.

Then, it happens.


The ground begins to shake, knocking people to the ground...


...the entire plate judders as the support beneath it gives way...


...the television signal in a house beneath flickers, then dies...


...people are tossed around like dolls as the massive structure crashes down above them...


...the entire plate rips free of its bindings and falls, obliterating the slums beneath...


...while above the chaos, the Shinra tower stands tall.


Tifa, Barret and I swing away from the billowing smoke and dust from the explosion.


We're propelled by the blast, and find ourselves in the playground where Aeris and I had our first proper conversation. The expression on the face of the cat slide now seems unfortunate. Or appropriate. It's hard to tell.


The slide is now the centrepiece for a dark visual gag. With red girders embedded in its plastic skull, the cat's open mouth and lolling tongue become gruesome.


Barrett frantically cries out for Marlene, who he believes to be buried under the rubble of the Sector 7 slums. Then, he starts to blame himself for her death.


Tifa is confused.

Gee, it's a tricky one, Tifa. Maybe, if AVALANCHE had never started trying to bring down Shinra, then Shinra would never have responded in kind by trying to bring down AVALANCHE. But really, that's all I've got for you right now because I don't know enough about Shinra to know if what they're doing is really wrong. At the moment, I've only got Barret's word for it, and though he seems like a nice guy, he's also has a gun for an arm, so I don't want to start a conversation about critical thinking with him.


See?

To placate him, Tifa explains that before we climbed the pillar, she asked Aeris to go and rescue Marlene. In order to find Marlene, we need to know where Aeris went. It seems sensible to start with her house, so we set off for Casa Aeris. On the way, I black out.


Don't worry about that, that's normal.

We push onwards, eventually arriving at Aeris' house where Elmyra is waiting. Instead of asking where Aeris and Marlene are, we all take five while Elmyra breaks out the family photo album and begins telling us about her daughter, who it turns out isn't her daughter after all.


She tells us about the dreadful day when her beloved husband failed to come home from the war, and how she was left waiting at the railway station as couples reunited around her. When she was about to leave, a woman basically dies right in front of her and asks her to take care of her daughter. Elmyra said yes because it was just turning out to be that sort of day.


Then, some exposition.


Kids say the funniest things. Then, Elmyra skips forward to the time when Tseng, whom we met earlier, turned up that the house to try and take Aeris away.


It seems there was some truth to the child's stories after all.

Elmyra refused to give Aeris up, and Tseng left, though according to Elmyra, Shinra have been after her "daughter" ever since.

Speaking of daughters, there's someone upstairs who's very happy to see Barrett.


Marlene's survival improves morale after the disaster of the destruction of the slums, so Tifa, Barret and I decide to leave her with Elmyra while we set off to rescue Aeris.


Wise words...

Final Fantasy VII Playthrough: Part 8 - Shinra HQ

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We've learned from Elmyra that Aeris has been captured by Shinra, who have been after the girl for years on account of her being an "Ancient". We decide to rescue her for reasons of loyalty and plot development.

Shinra's HQ is built in the middle of the wheel-shaped city of Midgar and stands far above the desolate slums where we've spent all our time thus far. Luckily, Shinra's villainous decision to drop the "plate" (the giant platform on which Sector 7's middle-class live) on to the slums, thus destroying them and all their inhabitants, has left a rickety pathway of architectural detritus leading directly to their corporate fortress.

But first, some backtracking, for local colour as much as anything else. We return to the Don's mansion, from which Aeris and I rescued Tifa only a few hours ago. There's a guy with a mohawk in the S&M dungeon. We set him free, without even knowing if we'll unlock some kind of minigame as a reward.


We don't.

Poking around in the mansion, we come across some mess left by the Don's guards, who ran from the mansion in a panic when the plate came down.


The mahjog board is a nice touch.

We can't put Aeris' rescue off much longer, so we ask around Wall Market for advice on getting to Shinra's HQ.


My HP is 450, is that what you meant?


He doesn't answer, so we stock up on potions and head up to the plate.


I'm in two minds about this sequence, which includes several timed jumps and nothing else, not even a fight.

On one hand, it's pseudo-platforming in a game in which the player has very little physical control over their on-screen avatar, making it an fiddly exercise in trial-and-error key tapping. Final Fantasy VII is a difficult game, but its challenges are tactical rather than physical. It's a game about risk assessment and decision-making: when to make a detour for a lengthy quest, when to grind, how many potions to buy, who to equip with what armour, which materia to develop. This means that the timing sequences are not only tedious, but they neither hone nor test the skills that you need to master the main game mechanics. They're sub-minigames with flat mechanics.

On the other hand, the Midgar climb does add texture to an extremely long adventure. The slow vertical ascent shows you the extent of the plate's damage, and the lack of any fights means there's nothing to distract you from it. It's almost the JRPG equivalent of Uncharted 2: Among Thieves' village sequence, in which Nathan Drake takes a break from shooting and climbing to walk slowly around a mountain settlement and kick a ball around with some children. Mechanically pointless, perhaps, but valuable to the narrative.


Eventually, we reach the Shinra tower. Whether it's pollution or just that time of year, the ominous clouds remind us of the seriousness of our mission. That is, to rescue Aeris. Because she's an "ancient'. Which is important. Probably.


Pause for effect.



Tifa suggests using the back stairs as a way to sneak into Shinra. Barret suggests a full-frontal assault.

I need the XP, so we go in the front.


...murder your employees in cold blood?


After killing the first wave of goons, we decide to pick up some doodads in the Shinra "Accessories" store.


Wonder if they sell T-Shirts?


Shinra need to train their people in customer service. It's not Barret's fault he has a gun for an arm.

We wander around fiddling with the merchandise before watching whatever it is those dudes in the top left are staring at on TV.


It is a weird advert for Shinra brand vehicles.

The incongruity of this FMV makes me wonder whether the steampunk vehicles it showcases were made by Square at some point in development but never got used in the final game. They're practical and quirky rather than sinister, so they don't really contribute to the narrative point of this entire level: that is conveying to the player that Shinra is a vast evil mega-corp full of faceless bourgeois capitalists who need to be brought down.

Still determined, despite the lack on narrative re-enforcement of Shinra's general dastardliness, we get in the lift and head up to where Aeris is being held. Barret fills the character development void.


When we get out, we're greeted by Shinra's HR department.


Needless to say, we are not the ones who get destroyed.


Barret gives us a pep talk. Apparently the numerous terrorist attacks and the complete destruction of his home town were not "real" enough for him.


You can't tell from the screenshot, but this security guard is napping. This is what he would have see if he'd opened his eyes:


Floor 60's high, but still about 5 minigames lower than we need to be.

Here's the first:


When I saw this, my heart sank. The use of timed button pushes in order to get from one end of the hall to the other is just a really annoying way of gamifying something that doesn't need to be gamified.

I passive-aggressively named this screenshot "annoying timing puzzle".

I failed to safely guide Tifa and Barret across so many times that we end up killing all the guards on the floor, so eventually I am excused from further Quick Time Events on floor 60.


With its polished tiles and indoor tree, the next floor clearly belongs to the Shinra suits. We talk to a few of them, and they're all as devious as the are flippant. One guy has this to say when asked about the consequences of the mass destruction in Sector 7:


These suits need a lesson in social justice.

Onwards and upwards.


The next floor is home to Shinra's library. It's run by an eccentric who says he'll give us the keycard to the next floor if we guess the password.

To do so, we need to solve a puzzle, and it's a good one. The library is arranged in categories, and each category contains one book that doesn't "fit". You have to find that book, take the number that appears before the title, then find the letter in that title that corresponds to that number.


There are four categories, so you end up with four letters. Re-arrange them to make a word, and that's your password. The answer is different on every playthrough, so although you can check a walkthrough to find the means to guess the password, you can't just look it up. In my case, the password was "MAKO", but the joy of solving the puzzle was its own reward.


On the next floor I have to fix a broken model of Midgar. With every piece I assemble, the treasure chest containing the next piece opens. It's very simple and thus not as satisfying as the library puzzle.

Once Midgar is complete, it's time to get our kicks on floor 66.


I try to think of a funny answer while exploring the rest of the floor. Before I can come up with anything, I find the cause of the stench.


I flush, then climb up. Tifa and Barret follow and we crawl along the smelly air vents until we're over the conference room.


Inside, President Shinra is holding an evil meeting with his evil executives and his evil head scientist. After discussing their plans to make money off the Sector 7 "accident", they address the matter of their new tenant, Aeris.


I'm glad Aeris isn't around to hear this. No girl wants to know that she's 18% inferior to her mother. That kind of stuff can really mess you up.


We make our way back to the smelly toilet and find ourselves in Hojo's lab. Before examining the glass tank in the back, we examine the round container on the right that looks strikingly similar to the cryogenic dewar flask that holds Akira's remains in Akira. It's the first real similarity I've seen between Final Fantasy VII and Akira, but I'll be on the lookout for more. As a piece of dystopian cyberpunk about plucky teenagers and governmental abuse of power, I wouldn't be surprised of Final Fantasy VII contained deliberate homages to Otomo's masterpiece.

We take a peek inside.


No head or clothes. Perfect woman.

I'm joking, of course. That is messed up. Feeling a bit ill, we turn our attention to the tank.


It seems that as well as keeping naked headless corpses in cryogenic storage, Hojo is also in the business of cross-breeding rare species. Neither Aeris not her cell-mate (who looks like teenage Simba in the time-lapse section of "Hakuna Matata" in The Lion King) seem to happy about the prospect.

We bust them out.


I caught this screenshot before the character had finished talking, which is bad form. Basically, he's a playable character and we have to choose his name. As with the other characters, I keep the default, which is "Red XIII".

After the naming ceremony, we're attached by a monster who poisons us. Red XII uses his first limit.


Even though Red XIII has a hefty HP of 607, we don't get far without our escape attempt. Pretty soon we're outnumbered and taken to the President's office.

Like all good villains, he gives us a lot of highly classified information.


This time, Aeris is around to hear the traumatising comments. I hope she doesn't develop a complex.

We're dragged off to prison. This being "fun" prison, they put me in the same cell as Tifa.


You know, I'm going to start drinking whenever the localisation throws up some kind of double entendre.

Just as Tifa and I are about to come up with some interesting ways to pass the time, Aeris starts soliloquising.


As she speaks, our cell doors open. Aside from the corpses in Shinra uniform that litter the corridors, this isn't really explained, but we decide not to look a gift horse in the mouth.


And thus begins our second attempt to escape Shinra's HQ. Will we succeed? Who slaughtered the guards? And will Aeris overcome her mummy issues in order to save the planet, or whatever?

Find out next time on the Final Fantasy VII Playthrough!

Getting past the next (A) level.

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Thursday was A-level results day in the UK, which means that 18-year olds across the land will know by now whether or not they've got into their chosen university.


It's a good day for some students and a bad day for others, but it's always a great day for newspapers, who not only have an excuse to plaster their front pages with photos of comely young maidens, but also to fill their websites with countless click-bait articles about how A-levels are either too easy, horribly unfair, or just completely irrelevant.

A common trope among such articles is the successful journalist providing words of encouragement to students who didn't get the results they hoped for by using their own career trajectory as an inspiring example of how it's possible to "make it" without a spotless academic record. One such article is this one, by Guardian columnist Charlie Brooker, who, after taking full responsibility for his lacklustre performance, concludes:

"Your grades are not your destiny: they're just letters and numbers which rate how well you performed in one artificial arena, once."

The article is doubtless well-meant, but had I read it at 18 when I had just been handed my own horribly disappointing results, it wouldn't have helped in the slightest. Not least because for every Charlie Brooker, there are a hundreds of Oxbridge graduates who got there a lot quicker (and doubtless had more fun doing it) and thousands of would-be Brookers whose unfulfilling jobs barely afford them enough time to freelance.
 

I'm not making a point about class or privilege here, merely being realistic. Brooker's advice to "forget about 'success' as a concept [...] and focus instead on doing what satisfies you, as well as you can", is all very well, but of little consolation to someone who's just wasted two years of their life earning a handful of weak qualifications, and now has no idea what satisfies them. The "letters and numbers" may indeed measure something "artificial", but that doesn't mean they don't have a huge practical impact on the way your life is going to pan out.

Grades don't define you, but they certainly determine your future, if not where you eventually end up then the route you take to get there. Which, as any traveller knows, is far more important.

If you're where I was nearly a decade ago and are wondering why the platitudes aren't making you feel any better, it's because anyone who tells you that grades don't really matter is lying, either to make you feel better, to justify their contempt for a system they hate (justifiably or otherwise) or to congratulate themselves on their own good fortune.

You might wonder why this article is illustrated with Mass Effect 3bullshots, and although you'd be mostly correct in thinking it's because I forgot to take my grubby raincoat and long-focus lens down to the school gates this morning to sneak some pictures of fruity girls, that's not the whole story.


Mass Effect 3 is the concluding chapter of BioWare's epic space opera in which the player, in the guise of one Commander Shepard, defends the galaxy with the help of one of the best ensemble casts video games have ever seen. The Mass Effect series' great draw is in the freedom it gives players to make decisions that affect not just the outcome of each single game, but later games as well.

The life of Shepard is pertinent in this case for what it does and doesn't have in common with that of and A-level student. On the one hand, Shepard's missions and the lives of his or her friends can diverge greatly depending on the decisions he or she has made (and to a lesser extent, the way he or she has performed) in earlier games. Like the snap decisions that years down the line determine the future of an entire race in Mass Effect, the contents of today's envelopes have far-reaching and unforeseeable consequences for their bearers.

On the other, far less exciting hand, every outcome in Mass Effect is designed to be entertaining. The same cannot be said for real life.

While the desired A-level results generally yield congratulations and an exciting future for at least the next three years, unwanted ones, as Brooker points out, bring doubt and uncertainty.


If you didn't get the grades you wanted, you're probably going to spend the next few days, weeks, months, maybe years figuring out how to play with the hand you've just been dealt. How long the process lasts and how hard you find it depends on many things: whether this is unexpected, whether you've really put the work in and whether this is your first real taste of failure.

For me it wasn't unexpected, I hadn't really put the work in and it was my first real taste of failure. It's not the worst thing that's happened to me, but it's the only thing that still haunts me because of my part in it and the impact it had on the rest of my life.

I know this isn't going to be comforting for anyone going through something similar right now; it's not meant to be. That's because I'm not sure you need comfort right now, you're 18 and life is supposed to be terrifying. You'll have to figure this one out for yourself, and I don't think tight smiles and assurances that "this could be the best thing that ever happened to you" are going to help.

Although... it might be the best thing that ever happened to you. It could just as easily be the worst. Either way, it's a butterfly flap that sets in motion a change of events far more complex than anything Commander Shepard will ever have to face.


For something so "arbitrary" (thanks Charlie), there's almost nothing that has such a disproportionate impact on a life as your A-level results. Since no-one's yet discovered time travel or the means to visit other dimensions, you'll never know what would have happened if those letters had been different. Whom you would have met at the university you will now never go to. What you would have done. The career you'd have had.

Of course, you can turn that around and point out that what looks like a drawback now may reveal itself as a piece of monumental good luck later down the line. Maybe you'll get inspired by something that you'd never have noticed in the fast lane. Maybe you'll meet someone incredible. Maybe you'll give up on university altogether and actually earn a living free from the shroud of debt.

Maybe you'll be happier.

Or maybe you won't. Either way, it's unlikely that you'll ever stop being visited by the ghost of the moment at which one of two possible futures became a reality and the other faded into hypothesis.


You've had enough advice over the last two years, so all I will say is this: In real life you cannot save before you do something risky and important. You can't give up when things get too tough and start another character.

If you've accidentally set the difficulty to "Hard" mode, then you're just going to have to keep playing.


Final Fantasy Playthrough Playthrough: Part 9 - Escaping Shinra

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In what I hope doesn't turn out to be a Deus Ex Machina, the pickle in which Tifa, Barret, Aeris and Red XIII and I briefly found ourselves in was resolved when a mysterious assailant slaughtered all the Shinra guards on our floor and unlocked our cell doors in the process.


Tracking said assailant is not difficult as he or she has left a trail of blood in their wake. Red XIII suggests we follow it to the upper floor.

On the way, we get served by a gang of really sassy tapeworms.


The trail leads to President Shinra's office, where we find the man himself slumped theatrically over his desk with an expensive sword still lodge in his back. I conclude that he has slaughtered by someone either really melodramatic or really forgetful.


A quick examination of the offending weapon reveals that it belongs to Sephiroth, who's been mentioned in hushed tones several times throughout the game. As we debate the ramifications, Barret displays a lack of political understanding that I wish I'd been aware of before I joined his resistance group. 


Before anyone has a chance to explain succession to Barret, Palmer, the head of Shinra's space program, runs out from behind a pillar. It seems he's witnessed the murder, but we let him go because we have bigger fish to fry.

Namely, Sephiroth, about whom we exchange anecdotes on our way out of the office.


We don't get far before we're accosted by Rufus, the president's son. He's also the vice-president of Shinra! What are the chances?

He recites what we can only assume to be the company motto.


Our best chance of escape, apparently, is for me to attack Rufus "Draco Malfoy" Shinra while the others make a run for it.


After only a few seconds, he's picked up by one of daddy's helicopters, mirroring Tseng's earlier escape. Clearly, helicopter escapes are part of company policy at Shinra.


There's no point sticking around, so I race downstairs to find the others. An FMV ensues.


Red XIII looks like Shenzi, the Whoopi Goldberg hyeena from The Lion King.


Now, I know he looks like a bath toy in all the screenshots I've taken of him thus far, but Cloud is actually supposed to be really cool. Here he is (or, to be consistent, here I am) on a motorbike that I just happened to find lying around in Shinra H.Q.

The appearance of the motorbike means that the strange vehicle advertisement we found earlier makes a little more sense. It's not the same vehicle (that was a car), but at least we can now assume that the advertisement was foreshadowing.


I include the above screenshot purely so you can see what Tifa's supposed to look like. Her super-deformed form looks more like her "true" appearance than Cloud's does.

Tifa, Aeris, Barret and Shenzi Red XIII find their own vehicle.


Hey, it's a Morris Minor 1000! My dad used to have one of those.


The Morris Minor 1000 skids out onto the Shinra streets, and I'm not far behind.

What follows is a sequence which I'm pretty sure is a homage to the bike chase in Akira. This is the second possible reference to the seminal anime I've spotted in Final Fantasy VII, the first being Jenova's cryo-tank in the Shinra lab in the last episode of this playthrough. Both are unsurprising whether they are or aren't intentional, Akira's Neo Tokyo and Final Fantasy VII's Midgar have much in common. Neo Tokyo is a booming urban sprawl built on a post-nuclear wasteland, while Midgar is an industrial powerhouse built on the decaying slums that house its working class.

Whether Final Fantasy VII reaches Akira's symbolic and emotional heights remains to be seen. For now, there are baddies to take down.


It's pretty hard to tell from stills, but I'm in the middle on a motorbike, protecting the Morris Minor 1000 from goons using my sword. The sequence is yet another example of awkward action in this PC RPG, which is something I'm going to stop complaining about.


I manage to knock all the big kids off their bikes, but we can't escape Midgar because someone forgot to finish the road, and we can't turn back because there's a juggernaut blocking our path.

Only one thing for it...


Final Fantasy VII came out in 1997. Robot Warsfirst aired in 1998. Co-incidence?


In the post-battle calm, we debate the merits of following Sephiroth versus fighting the good fight on home ground. We unanimously agree to pursue the baddie in the hopes of ending Midgar's troubles once and for all. 


Almost a year after I started the Final Fantasy VII playthrough, we've finally reached the Midgar City limits. We mumble a few platitudes to each other before we head out into the wild. What will we discover? Whom shall we meet? Will we ever uncover the truth behind Sephiroth's crusade?

Will it take another year to find out?

Violence and Tears: The Troubled Road to Progress

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This article contains spoilers for The Last of Us and to a lesser extent, Tomb Raider.

Last month, NewStatesman published an excellent article by Sophia McDougall about the inadequacy of the ubiquitous "Strong Female Character", whose sole trait is invulnerability. Central to its argument is the fact that while pop culture’s favourite male heroes are deeply flawed (Sherlock Holmes is an addict, Batman a lunatic and James Bond a psychopath, to name a few) their female counterparts are rarely allowed to be anything other than “strong” lest they are automatically rendered unheroic. This is not only boring but insulting, since it implies that while men are innately heroic enough to remain so despite having serious character flaws, women have to be bulletproof, otherwise they’re pathetic.

The Last of Us' Ellie does what needs to be done.

As if to prove McDougall’s point, Cracked.com published a half-baked piece of clickbait last week which contained a troubling analysis of a pivotal scene in Naughty Dog’s zombie road trip epic TheLast of Us. In the scene, 14-year old Ellie, cornered by a cannibalistic hebephile, violently stabs him to death with a machete before being pulled away by ageing smuggler Joel, whom she’s spent the last three months trying to save from starvation, infection and worse. Reunited with the man she thought she’d never see again as her attacker's mutilated corpse lies bleeding beside her, Ellie bursts into tears.

Under the heading “Daddy issues”, Cracked interprets Ellie’s reaction thus:

“Ellie from The Last of Us is immune to an apocalyptic virus, learns new weapons faster than Neo, and has stabbed more enemies to death than Wolverine. But as soon as the guy turns up, she dissolves into tears and nursing. She could be machetifying a rapist cannibal into sashimi, but if the hero arrives she'll instantly collapse into helpless tears, safe in his arms. Because that's exactly what happens.”

In the light of McDougall’s article, it’s interesting that Cracked compares her survival skills to those of a pair of superheroes, as though her ability to kill was empowering rather than grimly necessary. There are several points in the game in which Ellie displays clear symptoms of trauma, meaning that far from being an accomplishment, every life she takes only increases the emotional burden she must carry with her for the rest of her own. Cracked’s implication that her violence is somehow an act of strength rather than desperation is therefore disturbing.

The accusation levelled at Naughty Dog that her response to Joel’s return somehow infantilises her is similarly misjudged. One might ask how else she might otherwise react to seeing him again given that, as she explains in an earlier sequence, he’s the only person she’s ever cared about who has neither died nor left her. Not only that, but she’s spent an entire winter solely responsible for the survival of both of them as he lay helpless in the basement of an abandoned house with an infected wound. After such a prolonged period of having to remain impervious to emotion for the sake of survival, it’s hardly surprising that anyone (man, woman, adult, child) should collapse as soon as they are safe.

Joel and Ellie: a complicated relationship.

The article levels a similar criticism at the recent Tomb Raider reboot: that Lara’s tears following seriously traumatic events (being impaled, having to kill someone, having your friends killed in front of you etc) contribute to a sexist portrayal of a female character on the basis that male heroes don’t cry. To prove its point, the article cites the emotionless behaviour of “competent professionals” Duke Nukem and Master Chief, despite the fact that the former is a deliberately exaggerated spoof of the 1980s action hero and the latter doesn’t even have any lines. These particular men don’t cry because they are cartoon characters, and are not supposed to be realistic.

While it’s true that games with vulnerable male heroes are few and far between, that’s a symptom of the medium’s immaturity rather than the innate invulnerability of men, so taking offence because some of the first truly vulnerable protagonists happen to be women is misguided. Tomb Raider and The Last of Us have progressive narratives in which the main characters respond to traumatic events in a realistic way. They also have females in leading roles. Although it’s perhaps unsurprising that writers unafraid to address difficult topics are also those unafraid to write about women, correlation does not imply causation.

We should not have to wait for male characters to display their emotions before the women are allowed to. If there is a valid grievance about the fact that aside from a very few cases, they haven’t, it’s that there should be more complex males in gaming, not fewer such women.

Cracked was by no means the first outlet to decide that Tomb Raider’s crying protagonist meant that the game was sexist. A similarly flawed accusation was made around the time of the game’s release by The Telegraph’s Louisa Peacock, who claims:

“What the new Lara Croft Tomb Raider game has done is bring her gender back into the game. We are reminded every other minute, when playing Tomb Raider, that this is a vulnerable, unskilled, scared, cold and hungry girl, trying to get out of the godforsaken place she finds herself in.”

The fact that Peacock conflates being “vulnerable, unskilled, scared, cold and hungry” with being a “girl” says a lot more about her than it does about the game.

An extreme situation.

What the new Tomb Raider actually does is dare to make a female character react to an extreme situation realistically (as the game's writer Rhianna Pratchett explained in her response to Peacock’s article). While the kind of “Strong Female Character” who so rankles McDougall might not be bothered by being strung upside down alongside hundreds of corpses, cauterising her own wounds or shooting another human being in the head, young Lara Croft is bothered, and that makes her an altogether more interesting protagonist than Duke Nukem. Besides, experiencing terror and overcoming it makes for a far “stronger” character than simply feeling nothing.

So with all this is mind, why are the likes of Peacock and Cracked so offended by non-psychotic women in video games? There’s an element of trolling for hits, particularly in the Cracked article, but to dismiss all such arguments as such ignores more important demographic issues.

The sad fact of the matter is that for a long time, female fans of gaming and genre fiction have simply had to take what they can get. The games industry is still dominated by men, and consumers of sci-fi, fantasy and comics (which share an audience with gaming) have long been perceived to be male, regardless of the fact that a huge proportion are not. Consequently, female game characters who are anything other than a love interest or sex object were until recently few and far between. It’s for that reason that feminist critics are often quick to take umbrage at any character who seems retrogressive, an unwelcome return to the days when female games characters were just princesses to be rescued by a capable hero.

But we’ve moved past that now. We’ve had Jade and Chell, capable, trouser-wearing heroes who just happen to be women. We’ve had (1990s) Lara and Bayonetta, joyfully anarchic adrenaline junkies who couldn’t care less if you think they’re sexy. We’ve had FemShep and all the other optionally-female heroes of this generation’s epic RPGs, who inhabit worlds where gender is, at least for the sake of programmic simplicity, never an issue. Sure, we’ve also had the bouncy cast of Dead or Alive and David Cage’s kicker-wearing victims (who cast the player in the uncomfortable role of voyeur for no particular narrative purpose), but the road to progress never did run smooth.

Lara is strong in more ways than one.

It’s also worth saying that while they do not deserve the criticism Cracked and Peacock level at them, the portrayals of Ellie and 2013’s Lara Croft are not without their problems. Lara Croft’s transformation from grad student to killer is slightly too triumphant and The Last of Us effectively trivialises Ellie’s slaughter of about fifty men for the sake of good gameplay. And although the characters mentioned in the previous paragraph are all feminist from certain angles, all still attract valid criticism: 90s Lara and Bayonetta court the male gaze while Jade, Chell, FemShep and the rest may as well be men.

But if we focus solely on how far gaming has still got to go and heap unfair criticism upon braver attempts to create complex and interesting female characters, we will prevent it moving forward altogether as developers and publishers are deterred from taking risks. By all means call out misogyny or sexism when you see it, but do so thoughtfully and constructively, not aggressively and with an axe to grind.

If you really care about diversity in gaming and the richness of its narratives, you need to contribute to creating an environment in which people making games feel safe to experiment. Either let complex and emotional women in, or accept a grey future in which gaming is populated solely by humourless, shallow or just grimly perfect females.

Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam

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I went on a whistle-stop tour of South East Asia in May of this year. Because it was such a quick trip, I didn't really do anything that wasn't in the Lonely Planet, and I don't have any stories that you won't have heard before.


I could write something educational about Tomb Raider, of course, but that's already been covered by other sources, notably The Archaeology of Tomb Raider, whose article on Angkor Wat I recommend if you are so inclined.

I did, however, take some nice pictures.


This is the view from the Lamphu Tree Hotel, where we stayed in Bangkok. I mention it because it was a really nice place and the staff were extremely helpful and accommodating, so please consider this a recommendation.

In Bangkok, the streets are filled with brightly-coloured taxis and the Grand Palace complex is filled with brightly-coloured umbrellas.


Within the Grand Palace's walls is the Wat Phra Kaew complex, home to the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. The temple itself is bordered by Garuda.


As with most temples, there is no photography inside Wat Phra Kaew itself.


Fortunately, committing the topiary outside to digital immortality is fine. The entire complex is surrounded by intricately painted murals.


They depict the Ramayana, and are refreshed frequently. You could get this information off Wikipedia, of course, but I'm just making life easy for you.


The excellent topiary continues outside Wat Phra Kaew, in front of the Grand Palace itself.


We left the complementary umbrella in the hotel wardrobe, thinking we wouldn't need it since it wasn't raining. Seriously lacking shade as a consequence, we seek refuge behind a wall. As we drink some water, some men in robes pass. We decide that the digital cameras are a sign that they're not real monks.


Outside the palace grounds is a roundabout that looks like Dumbo's fever-dream. In a good way.


Over the road is Wat Pho, home of the reclining Buddha and some excellent statues.


The reclining Buddha is magnificent...


...so large, you cannot fit him all in one photograph.


The soles of his feet are inlayed with mother-of-pearl.


There is far more to see in Bangkok of course, but this is a whistle-stop tour.

Next up is Siem Reap, Cambodia, home of the temples at Angkor.


Like most cities in South East Asia, Siem Reap has a tourist district packed with places to eat. This one is called "Pub Street". However, in order to be at at 4am the next morning to catch sunrise over Angkor Wat, we did not sample its delights for long.


Here is Angkor Wat itself. This is actually sunrise, but the clouds make it rather less spectacular than most of the other "Angkor Wat sunrise" pictures you may care to search for. Still, it is Angkor Wat and not even a cloudy sky and a little UNESCO tarpaulin can lessen its splendour. 

It is here, of course, where Lara Croft began her first expedition as a trainee archaeologist alongside Werner Von Croy, except when she did it she didn't have to wait for all the other tourists to pass before she took her photos. Before we went inside I took a comfort break and made some friends.


Look Stella, chickens!

My new friends don't have tickets, so they don't follow us inside.


Here is the view from inside the temple, looking north across the Cambodian jungle. Angkor Wat is unusual among Khmer temples in that it faces west as opposed to the more usual east. This is possibly because the temple was dedicated to Vishnu, often associated with the west.


The highest tower still bears magnificent engravings.



The Bayon at Angkor Thom originally had 216 faces, but time has whittled their number down. Those that remain are serene despite their age.


Further into the jungle, and the trees begin to take over.


The larger roots belong to the silk cotton tree. Later, smaller, stringier roots abound, and those belong to the strangler fig. We head inside the famous Ta Prohm, where the first Tomb Raider film was shot.


Almost all of the sites at Angkor looked similar to Ta Prohm about twenty years ago, but they are being painstakingly restored by UNESCO, no easy task considering that in many cases, the tree roots are now the only things holding the stones together.


But Ta Prohm is so spectacular that the decision was made to leave the trees as they are. Although it looks untouched, the balance between keeping the trees alive and the temple standing is actually being carefully maintained.


Here's the Tomb Raider door...



...and a similarly overgrown one.


The heat is ferocious by this point, so it's back to town for a nap.


Then some pool at Pub Street. This is the bar where I first discovered Adventure Time. It was being projected onto a wall while the music (metal, mainly, hurrah), played over the top. We thought it was some really obscure show and that by "discovering" it, we were cultural travellers as well as physical ones.

Nope, turns out Adventure Time is an enormously successful cult hit and we were pretty much the last people ever to see it.


This pool was once part of a hospital.


I am very pleased with these pictures because I was one of thousands of tourists, and waiting for them to pass behind a pillar so I could take a good shot took some patience.


In the commentary for Tomb Raider: Anniversary, Toby Gard (Tomb Raider's original designer) talks about how the inspiration for the game came from visiting ancient ruins and just wanting to clamber all over them.


I know how he feels, but can only assume he did not visit Angkor Wat in May, it is 40° in the shade.


This is one of the gates to Angkor Thom, an ancient Khmer City.


Since vast temples and palaces are not part of my daily life, I find it hard to imagine what they might have been like a thousand years ago.

But a gate is something I can get my head around.


Dating from around 950, East Mebon is around 200 years older than Angkor Wat itself, making this elephant exceptionally well-preserved.


Here's a view of Siem Reap from our hotel balcony.


The city is really only there because the temples are there, so it's still fairly small. However, there is a specialised children's hospital which you can learn about here. There is a lot to say about Cambodia and its people that I learned even in the three days I was there, but this picture-focussed blog post isn't really the place.


This is much the same view as the last picture, just at sunset.

We spent the next night back at Bangkok. Like almost all other major cities, Bangkok has a Chinatown.


This is where I ate one of the best meals of the entire trip.


Although the seafood and green peppercorns look like they could give my crab a run for its money.


After dinner we wandered around the night market...


...then found a bar overlooking Wat Arun across the Chao Phraya River.


I chose my camera because the box said I could drop it and it wouldn't break, and I know myself. This was honestly more of a consideration than the quality of the photos it could take, so I am always pleased when it helps me take a tricky one.


The next day we flew to Hanoi. It was Bangkok Airways' 45th birthday, and one lucky passenger on our flight got a prize!

Up until this point I had been priding myself on my ability to travel light, so if that little aeroplane didn't have such a sweet face I would have left him at the Hanoi baggage claim, where he might have caused some serious delays because, my goodness, Vietnamese bureaucracy is something I was not wholly prepared for.


I wasn't prepared for the mopeds either.


Or the totally genuine Apple store, hosting one of Apple's famous "Crazy Sales".


Or the wiring.


Or this lamp.

We didn't have much time to sample Hanoi's singular delights because the next morning we took a four-hour drive to the famous Halong Bay.

Lara Croft has never been to Halong Bay (get it together Lara), but the drive there reminded me of the motorbike sequences in Tomb Raider: Legend.


We sailed around the North East of the Halong area, Bai Tu Long bay.


Fishermen putter around the limestone karsts that stand majestically above the emerald waters.


I think the green might be a reflection of the foliage clinging to the limestone, but it could be a mineral in the water.


I spent a great deal of my childhood on boats, so this view was oddly familiar to me. Still, these boats were on the Solent.


This is a working fishing village, subsidised by both the government and the travel company. In exchange for a steady stream of paying tourists, it maintains a high standard of cleanliness and keeps pollution to an absolute minimum.


We were taken out on a fishing trip with some of the villagers. First the nets were laid, with the boat being powered only by tiny oar strokes so as not to scare the fish. Then, the deck is hit with wooden rods for about ten minutes to herd the fish into the nets before the nets are pulled in. Once the nets are back, the painstaking process of untangling the fish from the nets takes place before the whole process begins again.

The whole thing is incredibly hard work, and this shouldn't be forgotten when padding gently around such a beautiful setting on a sunny day.


We spent the evening on the man-made beach outside Thien Canh Son cave, which is magnificent.


These pictures are not the camera's  fault. They are mine, for not using the flash.


Oh dear.


You should probably just google some pictures.


This is the sort of sunset you don't forget easily.


The next day we returned to see more of Hanoi than just the mopeds, though of course there were a lot of those too.


Hanoi is beautiful, but it takes a while before you stop waiting for sound of mopeds and horns to pass.


It is perpetual.


However, the non-stop activity is what gives Hanoi its character.


In Hanoi, life is lived very much on the streets. The incredible street food is served to anyone and everyone who sits down on one of those tiny stools you can see there. Sit down and you will be given a bowl of something wonderful. What is it? Never mind. It's delicious.

Oh, and it probably costs about 30,000 dong. Vietnamese currency exists in enormous denominations and is called the "dong". I will let you think up your own dong jokes, because I think I've spent all the time on it that a person really should.


The next day we visit Uncle Ho.


The mausoleum complex also contains the Presidential Palace, but Ho Chi Minh is more well known for inhabiting the far more humble stilt house in the back garden.


Next up it's the war museum.


There was no plaque or description next to this, but I have just been informed that it is an SA-2 missile...


There wasn't one next to this either, but I'm not sure it needs one.

On the way out, we pass a monument to Vietnam's illustrious communist history.


Oops, no, not that.

I mean this.


If they sold miniature versions of that monument I would definitely have bought one.


The Lonely Planet described Temple of Literature as "tranquil", but on the day we visited there was a school trip in progress, which meant that once identified as English speakers, we answered about twenty questionnaires about tourism.


That tree probably won't cause any problems in the future.


In the middle of Hoan Kiem Lake, there is a small pagoda.


I tried waiting for a people-free shot of this pathway, but gave up.

Other activities in Hanoi included the Water Puppet theatre, lots of pool tables and discovering that our hotel had Cartoon Network, and that we could use it to watch...

...ADVENTURE TIME!


On the drive back to the airport we could see the pillars for a future suspension bridge in the early morning light. Spectacular.


This is the view from our taxi on the two-hour drive from Bangkok Suvarnabhumi airport to the ferry port at Rayong, where we transferred to Koh Samet for a couple of days.

Being so close to Bangkok, the island is a favourite weekend spot for city-dwellers. It was also a very relaxing place to come after Hanoi.


On the first day we went snorkelling, but despite being practically bulletproof, my camera is not waterproof, so I don't have any photos and you will have to take my word for the fact that I saw a clam the size of a dishwasher.


This is not a flattering photo, but it is one that expresses my sheer joy at having fulfilled such a large number of Tomb Raider fantasies in the last couple of weeks.

When we rented the quad bikes they told us how to start them and how to make them go faster. They did not rent or suggest helmets, they did not tell us to stay out of the way of oncoming traffic and they slapped a sticker over the safety instructions.

Lara would definitely have approved.


Koh Samet is not large, and we drove down every single one of its roads that day. It has a large number of beaches, some selling ice cream and inflatables, others offering nothing more than a hammock and a view.


The island is apostrophe-shaped, and the southern tip is thus rocky and rough.


Stella look! A cockerel. Apparently chickens naturally inhabit woods.


This beach was fashioned by hippies. Stone-balancing of this nature is something I've only ever seen before in Ottawa, so I wonder if they were Canadian hippies.


Our room was air-conditioned, so my camera was cold. This meant that when I tried to take a picture of the sunset, the lens kept steaming up due to the humidity, so this is the best you're going to get.


The ferry trip back to the mainland saw us pass several squid boats, which are covered in lights (that you can't see in this picture). They must look spectacular at night.


The final day was spend lazing around Bangkok. We wandered around streets where Thai people shop...


...and streets where western people drink.


Then we went to the MBK mall because we couldn't think of anything more cultural to do. My only disappointment on this trip was the fact that photos were not allowed inside the mall. This mall had "THE WOMAN SHOP". It had a T-shirt store called "BRAND NAME". It had a shop selling nothing but framed insects. It had things that were so amazing I have repressed the memories of them to shield myself from the crushing regret of not having been able to take pictures.

Never mind. We went to the cinema to see Fast and Furious 6 because nothing helps you prepare for a return to real life like The Rock chasing down a jumbo jet with a tank or whatever.


There were only about 20 seats in this cinema and every one came with blankies.


On the last night we ate curry on the Khao San Road, soft landing for nervous newbies and tired explorers alike. Bangkok is something of a gateway to the region for many travellers, and as such its main tourist street has spawned many imitators.

You could argue that it's not "real" Thailand in that it does not reflect daily life for most Thai people, but then Leicester square with its Routemaster teapots, vast amusement arcades and ticket touts does not reflect much of England either, and yet it's an unmissable part of a London visit.

There are very few "untouched" places left in the world, and the fact that somewhere has grown up with a booming tourist trade doesn't make it somehow inauthentic. Industry shapes the culture and geography of a place, whether that industry is tourism, fishing or finance, and if you think there's nothing of interest in a place just because someone else has got there first, you'll never be interested in anything.


Suvarnabhumi's central feature is a beautiful "Churning of the Ocean of Milk" statue.

I hope I have time to go back to South East Asia and spend more than a few days in each country. It is incredible that we live in a world where you can see all of these things in three weeks, but it would be nice to travel between them by train, and see a little more (and eat a little more) along the way.

Final Fantasy Playthrough: Part 10 - What Happens in Nibelheim Stays in Nibelheim

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After leaving Midgar, we decide to head for the town of Kalm. On the way, Red XIII, Tifa and myself are accosted by a bike gang. These guys are on choppers, so we can assume that in pop-cultural terms they're Butch to Cloud's earlier Kaneda.


Speaking of Akira references, I watched the film again this week and spotted another potential reference: this slide that Cloud and Aeris sit on to discuss his past closely resembles the one in [SPOILERS] Tetsuo's flashback to his childhood at the orphanage with Kaneda.


Kalm is one of many towns in Japanese fantasy manga and video games that resembles a disorientating amalgamation of Tudor stately homes and Central European Christmas markets.


We're supposed to meet at the inn, but one of the first rule of video games is that you pay attention to the direction the video game tells you to go, then go in the other direction for loot and optional quests.


I gather some political perspectives from the locals. It seems Shinra's influence reaches beyond Midgar.


This game understands children.


I visit the Materia shop, which is beautiful.


Eager to continue my excellent shopping experience, I go to the pub. The proprietor is identical to one of the wholesome townspeople I met back in the Midgar slums. Either he escaped the dropping of the plate and made a new life in Kalm, or this is just the more fortunate twin.


That doesn't sound good.


I meet everyone upstairs at the inn, where they demand to hear the story of SOLDIER and Sephiroth. I explain that we were "War Buddies" (seriously).


 It turns out I joined SOLDIER to be just like Sephiroth.

Who has never had motion sickness.


Sephiroth becomes a playable character in this flashback, which is just as well because as a newbie SOLDIER recruit, I am rubbish.


Despite having the most impractical hair we've seen yet, Sephiroth takes down the dragon in a couple of hits.


The story continues. It turns out Sephiroth and I were on the way to Nibelhein, site of a vast Mako reactor and hometown to Tifa and myself.


Yeah. Blame the Mako.


Now I'm in SOLDIER, the locals are all up in my face.


I explore Nibelheim a bit... in the past.


It turns out I am something of an unreliable narrator. Which, considering that Tifa just  asked me whether I snuck into her teenage bedroom, is understandable.

When I enter my own house (which we have visited in flashback before), the narrative gets fractured, and the story falters. It seems there are things I'm not willing - or not able - to talk about.


This is Tifa's martial arts teacher, which may or may not explain why she has such weird taste in men.


Tifa, Sephiroth, some SOLDIER goons and I plan to climb Mt. Nibel, site of Shinra's Mako reactor.

Check out Tifa's outfit. She looks like an even more adorable version of Jessie from Toy Story 2.

Oh, alright. Nothing is that adorable.


Could Mt. Nibel look any more menacing?


What genius decided to put a reactor here? And what is with that bridge?


See? That was an accident waiting to happen.


We lose a couple of redshirts, but all the characters with names are fine, so we press on.


Sephiroth uses a rockfall to crush a bug.


We enter a cave illuminated by a strange green light, and Sephiroth explains that it's caused my Materia, which Mt. Nibel is filled with. I guess that goes some way to explain why there's a Mako reactor here.


Oh, really? I guess that makes sense.

I'm glad Mako, in the form of Materia, is actually a core gameplay element. It means the player gets a first-hand understanding of one of Mako's core applications, and the fact that it's so vital to completing the quest means your relationship to it is complex. It's like Yuna's adherence to Yevon in Final Fantasy X, which is the means by which she summons aeons, even though [SPOILERS] Yevon emerges as the main antagonist about two-thirds in.


Who'd have thought a man with such impractical hair could be so rational?

Also check out Tifa's little hat. She's so cute. I want to stick her on my dashboard.


You think that if it was full of industrial secrets, Shinra would guard it a little more effectively.


Being a member of SOLDIER, I am authorised to follow Sephiroth inside. I take a peek inside one of the creepy pods they have inside the "Mako Reactor".


Ew.


Sephiroth explains that not only are the monsters created through high-level exposure to Mako, which makes them not dissimilar from either of us. You see, SOLDIER members are just humans who have been showered with a little Mako, hence the glowing blue eyes.


I'm not surprised Sephiroth's a little disturbed. I'm going to think twice about the next time I stick a bit of Materia in my hairclip.

While we're angsting...


That doesn't look good.


Oh dear.

Unfortunately we don't get to find out what happens to the monster because Sephiroth left with a swish of his cape and ran back down the mountain to the mansion at Nibelheim.

I follow him. 


I find a secret trapdoor and head down a creepy passage to a hidden library. Why is there a hidden library under a mansion at Nibelheim? Was it put there by the same genius who put the Mako reactor on top of Mt. Nibel?


Sephiroth discovers that the first Mako reactor was approved for use on the same day that the "Jenova project" was approved. This information is just there. In a book. Under a mansion.

He also explains that his mother's name was Jenova. Is this a co-incidence?


I don't really understand the appeal of Twilight, but if it gets the kids reading, what's the harm, you know?


Like the ones in Independence Day, right.


I can understand that. Space travel is by all accounts, tiring.


Come on, they blew up the White House!


I see where this is going.


I feel that on some level that qualifying Gast as a "genius" given how disturbed he is about the experiment is not healthy.


Is that a look of shock? I can't tell.


I guess so. Sephiroth proceeds to burn Nibelheim to the ground.


Pause for effect.


After discovering the body of my mother inside the charred remains of my house, I waste no time in following Sephiroth inside the reactor. Tifa is outside, screaming over the body of her father. I decide to deal with that later.


Ok, what kind of corporate lab is this, seriously?


Sephiroth kneels in front of Jenova's tank and proposes the two of them take back the planet and go to the promised land.


He expresses the belief that Jenova is destined to rule the planet, and that the humans are stealing it from her.


After some reassuring words, Norman Bates decides to leave, and take Jenova with him.


Unfortunately, unplugging her turns out to be a little more challenging than he anticipated.


The camera lingers on her head.


We are reminded of the headless body we found in a tank back at Shinra HQ.


Cloud hits Sephiroth with some righteous anger.


It is unclear whether Sephiroth has indeed received orders, or whether his shock at discovering his history has unhinged him.


Despite all the evidence we've received to the contrary, Tifa points out that Sephiroth is officially dead.


Final Fantasy VII came out in 1997, the same year as Fierce Creatures and Tomorrow Never Dies, both of which are about the evil power of the Murdoch empire. Given the eternal relevance of a less-than-free press, this is probably a co-incidence, but it's an interesting nugget nonetheless.

The five of us go to bed, thus restoring all our HP and Magic guages. Tomorrow, we'll head out into the wilderness to follow Sephiroth's trail. On the way we'll explore, chat to locals and kills monsters. Lots and lots of monsters.


Final Fantasy VII Playthrough: Part 11 - The Search for Sephiroth

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We don't believe official reports that Sephiroth is dead for a number of reasons.
  1. Shinra own the press.
  2. Sephiroth disappeared after torching a large amount of incriminating evidence that Shinra don't really want coming to light. 
  3. Shinra are all bastards.
Consequently, we decide to search for him in order to find out what's really behind Shinra's recent activities and the bloody trail that's recently been left in the corridors of their HQ.

Recent disturbances are said to have created increased monster activity around "Mythril Mine", so that's where we head first. Unfortunately we need to cross a marsh to get there, a marsh inhabited by the deadly "Midgar Zolom".


The only thing we have access to that can move faster than the Zolom is of course, a Chocobo. All Final Fantasy games have Chocobos in them, and they're always accompanied by weird bouncy farmyard music.

Conveniently, these Chocobos live at a Chocobo ranch, right next to the area where you really need a Chocobo.



Unfortunately, none of the Chocobos at the Chocobo ranch are for sale, so they sell us a "Chocobo lure" Materia and some tasty "greens" and tell us to go out and catch our own.


This is easier said than done. Chocobos only ever arrive flanked by monsters, whom you have to kill before you can capture the Chocobo. This is complicated by the fact that our feathered friends have an annoying habit of running away ofter a few seconds, so you have to keep giving them greens (at 1000 Gil a pop) in order to keep them occupied.


After a very expensive few fights, we succeed in capturing a Chocobo, which we ride over the marshes, evading the shadow of the Zolom.

I was a bit disappointed about missing a Zolom fight, but when we get to the other side of the marsh we see this.


Tifa and Red XIII ar so horrified they can't even look directly at it.


By the time the text in the box had finished being typed out, the menacing lightening bolt in the sky had disappeared, and lightening is more important than coherent sentences in screenshots.


The entire party is afflicted with "sadness".

This is a status ailment of course, not a reaction to the unfortunate monster's corpse, but I thought it was appropriate. In order to cure "sadness", you need a "Hyper", but I only have one left and I can't decide who to give it to. Further to this, the increased defence "sadness" gives you (at the cost of a slowed Limit gauge) is quite useful in an area filled with low-level monsters.

The increased defence symptom of the "Sadness" status ailment makes me think of this famous Hyperbole and a Half cartoon, in which author Allie Brosh describes the numbness that accompanied her depression. It is powerful and hilarious, please read it if you haven't.

We enter Mythril Mine and run straight into the Turks.


For an intelligence agency, the Turks aren't very good at keeping their plans quiet.


They introduce Elena, who helpfully informs us that we have compromised their organisation. She makes a vague warning about Reno, who is currently convalescing from the injuries he sustained at our hands.


Hurr, hurr.

After telling us lots of useful information, our enemies leave without starting a fight, which is fine by us. We explore the rest of the Mythrill mine, which is small, yet stocked with useful equipment.


On the other side, we head for Junon Harbour (again, thanks guys). On the way, we meet a demon riding another demon carrying a ball of death.


We defeat him and then head into a forest.

The depiction of the world map in Final Fantasy VII is figurative rather than literal, and Cloud's model is taller than the entire forest...


...but when the battle scenes start, the trees are shown to be much, much taller than Cloud.

This makes sense. The alternative - rendering the world map to scale - would not only take up too much processing power, but also mean that the player would spend a disproportionate amount of time walking through it as opposed to progressing with the story. To make this kind of world-traversal interesting, they would have to fill it with secrets and things to do, and that would detract from the main quest. Final Fantasy VII might give you a lot of freedom, but it's focussed freedom. Making it more like Skyrim would rob it of its immediacy.


Anyway, when we're making our way through the not-to-scale forest we are attacked by a ninja.


She turns Red XIII into a frog, but we still defeat her.


After the battle she lies dazed on the floor, and we walk up to her to begin a conversation. This is one of those conversations where you have to say exactly the right things to achieve the desired outcome, much like the dress-shopping incident back at Wall Market.

I knew the right answers because I looked at a walkthrough, though I think if you get them wrong you can just fight the ninja again. However, I've spent a year on the first 10 hours of this game, and I'm not about to start playing trial-and-error with it now.


I name my pet ninja "Yuffie".


Her first limit is "Greased Lightening".


We head down to the beach on our way to the harbour and fight some weird little dudes.


We arrive at Junon (which strongly reminds me of my hometown, Gosport) and head down to the beach.


We meet a girl called Priscilla down there, and Barret starts chatting to her about which terrorist organisation we belong to and what we're doing in a Shinra port.

Everyone in this game is so abominably bad at keeping sensitive information quiet that I can't even think of anything funny to say about it. It's like that time I found out there was a $425 pill that would turn your poo gold for a few days. I thought there must be some material in there for some kind of joke but there wasn't. It was just too stupid.


Barret is just about to tell Priscilla our social security numbers and mothers' maiden names when we get attacked by a giant fish for no reason.


We kill it, but Priscilla is knocked unconscious and submerged by the wave.

I have to perform CPR.


Priscilla wakes up and is taken home by her grandfather. The rest of us retire to a local inn for the night.


It's so cosy that I go to sleep straight away, but my dreams are haunted.


It seems I can't remember why Tifa and I couldn't spend some time alone together to catch up when I was last in Nibelheim. Tifa and I grew up together in Nibelheim, so it does indeed seem odd that I didn't catch up with her upon my return, even if I was there with SOLDIER.

When I wake up, Tifa is there.


She's confused by my question, and brushes it off because a parade is taking place outside, loudly. It seems that the new president, Rufus, is heading off on an airship and the army is going to see him off. I have a bone to pick with Rufus, so I resolve to follow him.


In real life the music is distressing, a looping chiptune military march.


Priscilla explains how Shinra have destroyed the environment. Final Fanatasy VII is very moral in this repect.

This is something it has in common with Miyazaki films, particularly Nausicaäof the Valley of the Wind and Princess Mononoke. This is only a valid comparison in so far as they are all Japanese and Princess Mononoke came out in the same year as Final Fantasy VII, and I only notice it because the environment seemed to be less of a pressing concern in a lot of the western media I was consuming at the time.


I sneak into Priscilla's house and go through her stuff. She has nothing of value so I capitalise on my earlier fish-killing escapades and get Mr. Dolphin to help me break into Junon's base.


This bit really reminded me of Gosport. There's a lot of ex-MoD property around there, vast rusty structures groaning out of the mud flats that make up Portsmouth harbour. I used to climb on them and pretend I was in a post-apocalyptic wasteland.


At the top of the structure is a vast airship. Airships are as much a part of the Final Fantasy series as Chocobos.


Some airships, like the Al Bhed one in Final Fantasy X, are beautiful, inspiring and friendly. This Shinra one isn't, but this just makes it look even more dramatic against the sunset.


I contemplate it before heading inside the base to follow Rufus, hopefully all the way to Sephiroth...

Francis "York" Morgan and other things I don't understand

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My latest Character Select is an examination of Deadly Premonition's Francis "York" Morgan through the prism of David Lynch. It's pretty spoiler-heavy, so if you haven't played the game and want to, I'd suggest not reading it until you do. For everyone else, here's what went through my mind as I wrote it.


My favourite part of writing the article was the research; I watched Mulholland Drive three times, every time looking at it from a different perspective, finding another potential meaning in its strange events. Before the Deadly Premonition article, I hadn't seen the film since I was a teenager, when I hated it. That was a time when I thought everything had to have an answer, that only lazy or incoherent writers failed to tie up all the loose ends in their narratives.

I still think that there are plenty of films (and novels, and television shows) that try to conceal their disorganisation with a "symbolic" ending, but Mulholland Drive is not one of them. Its impenetrability is part of its narrative, in which dreams and the subconscious are both intertwined with and inseparable from reality. Far from being an excuse for whimsical strangeness, the surrealist approach allows for a more authentic exploration of the way the mind creates its own realities than a more literal narrative would.

This blog post is written under the assumption that you've read the Character Select article, in which I explain that one interpretation of the film is that the first two hours are the dream of Diane, a character played by Naomi Watts, broken by an insurmountable combination of guilt and depression. What I didn't take much time to explain in the article was that there are links between the "dream" (in which Diane recreates herself as the innocent, optimistic Betty) and the "reality" that don't quite make sense.


The main one is the fact that we see Diane waking from what appears to be the dream before (or apparently before) many of the real life events that seem like they inspire that dream. For example (spoiler alert!), the film ends with Diane shooting herself on her bed, yet in the dream, Betty finds Diane's body decaying in the exact same position. Even if you surmise that the dream is a hallucination that takes place in Diane's head at the moment of her death, that doesn't explain the fact that a series of conspiratorial telephone calls in the dream seem to end with a call to the phone that sits by Diane's dead body in real life.

Maybe, then, the film shows two sets of characters acting in parallel universes. Or perhaps the story is a Möbius strip in which a story with two sides continues on an endless loop in which they never meet, but continuously lead from and create the other.

Because of these endless possibilities, the film will never get old for me. I realised recently that many of my favourite things have this quality. Much as I love the intense satisfaction that comes from the denouement of a perfectly-crafted detective story, or a tale that's illuminated with a well-plotted twist, such things are ultimately finite in their appeal for me. Those stories are thrilling when you first see/read/play them and awe-inspiring when you go through them a second time and marvel at the narrative craftsmanship. After that however, all you can ever do is learn them off by heart.

Conversely, stories like Mulholland Drive have infinite possibilities. My favourite Bret Easton Ellis novels, American Psycho, Glamorama and Lunar Park, also posess this quality. In American Psycho, you never find out how much of the novel takes place in real life, and how much takes place in Patrick Bateman's head. Is there actually a difference between the two? Isn't such violence just as horrific in the mind as in reality? Patrick Bateman is a painstakingly constructed tissue of designer clothes, popular music and 1980s yuppie cultural touchstones, and he says himself at one point that without them, he simply doesn't exist. So what is the nature of violence by a creature who by his own admission "simply [is] not there"?


These questions are rhetorical, by the way, I think if you actually try and answer them, you're missing the point.

Bret Easton Ellis'Glamorama is the story of a male model who finds himself embroiled in an international conspiracy carried out by other models, the nature of which never becomes quite apparent. Lunar Park is the story ofan author called "Bret Easton Ellis" whose family is torn apart by supernatural phenomena. The Bret Easton Ellis who wrote the book isn't married, of course.

Speaking of Bret Easton Ellis, he once gave a talk that I attended where I asked him whether he watched The Hills. Fool! What a missed opportunity! A bit of reading before the event would have told me that of course he watches The Hills, and that by asking the question (which he answered by spending about 10 minutes talking about how much he loved it after shrugging off the five previous questions about "satire", "Barthes" and "the simulacra") I'd wasted the chance to ask him what he thought of Heidi Montag's plastic surgeries.

You think I'm kidding? No way. I'm fascinated by The Hills, perhaps the original "scripted reality" television show. Scripted reality is a monstrous genre in which real people have their lives filmed, but instead of documentary, which attempts to portray its subjects as they really are, scripted reality stages real life events, so that arguments between best friends are set up, for example. There's no doubt that in most cases the emotions we see on the faces of the subject (characters?) are real, but where do those emotions come from?

The Hills features a group of friends in Los Angeles, initally Lauren Conrad, Heidi Montag, Audrina Partridge and Whitney Port, who are unremarkable in many ways despite their beauty and wealth. The four go to work and date awful men, and the camera is always there when one of them breaks up, loses a job or has an argument. In the early series of the show, the cast are endearingly guileless, and it's impossible to separate the construct from the reality.


Later series rather lost their charm: hardworking "protagonist" Lauren Conrad and her sensible colleague Whitney left and were replaced by the rather more mercenary Kristen Cavallari whose well-documented ambitions as an actress tipped the show's balance firmly into the realms of fiction. At the same time, poor Heidi lost touch with reality to the extent where she spent all her wages not only on a failed pop career but on a deeply shocking amount of plastic surgery which turned her into a terrifying manifestation of Hollywood's worst excess. Her first meeting with her mother after the event was of course filmed for the show, but suddenly the manifestation of the L.A. dream seemed all too real. She and her husband are now reported to have run out of money and are living with his parents.

It's perhaps no co-incidence that Mulholland Drive and The Hills both use LA as a central, titular motif.

I find later series of The Hills (and indeed all the ghastly shows that came after it such as Keeping up with the Kardashians, Jersey Shore and Made in Chelsea) too cynical and unpleasant to enjoy. It's very clear which members of the cast (Kristen) are aware of the boundaries between fiction and reality and can use it to their advantage, and which (Heidi) mistake the two at their peril. In contrast, the early shows are iridescent in their strange blend of fantasy and reality, and though they don't have the symbolic power of Mulholland Drive, they're equally fascinating.

I'll leave you with my old friend Tori Amos singing "Cloud on my Tongue". It's a beautiful song which, like all her best songs, might be rich with truth, honesty and meaning but would be utterly dimished by literal lyrics. When I hear it I can't help but remember English classes at school, unpicking the threads of poetry and tying them neatly to a grid of meaning. As long as you kept your argument coherant, you got a good mark. Learning to analyse and develop an argument is a vital life skill, of course, but that's really no way to enjoy art because it leaves us unable to appreciate the things we can never fully understand.

And since there's very little in life that we can ever fully understand, that's a dangerous place to be.

Final Fantasy VII Playthrough: Part 12 - Marching Towards the Costa Del Sol

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We've traced Sephiroth all the way to Junon Harbour, where I've climbed to the top of the rusty Shinra monolith overlooking the waterfront. Not being the stealthy type, I just walk in through the front door, whereupon the on-duty guard mistakes me for a soldier out of uniform.


As I'm changing, the guard explains that I need to march in step with the other soldiers in order to impress the new Shinra president (Rufus, if you haven't been playing attention) and not let the the ratings for the televised broadcast of the event drop below a certain level.


This sounds like yet another prolonged QTE, but since there isn't a blonde wig at stake, I'm not prepared to sweat too many bloody tears over it.


I'm supposed to line up for the parade, but I really hate QTEs, so I explore the base instead. I come across an industrial elevator that, surprise, surprise, strongly resembles the one that leads down into Akira's compound in Akira.


With the slide, the spherical cryo capsule and the bike chase, that makes four strong visual similarities between Final Fantasy VII and Akira thus far. If this playthrough was even more Bridget Jones' Diary than it already is, each entry would begin with a quick recap of the episode's events.

"Akira references: 3, QTEs: 13 (v. bad), Weirdly translated sexual innuendos: 3,404...".


This reminds me of when I used to go to ballet class.


The grimy industrial aesthetic we left in Midgar not so long ago seems to be back, only here Midgar's smoggy skies have been replaced with sea air and a mackerel skin sunset.


I don't have too long to worry about why they need a cannon that big because it's time for my QTE.


I don't know why the TV ratings drop when I screw up (I do screw up. So. Many. Times). If anything, surely the hilarity of a drunk soldier messing up all the steps would push viewing figures through the roof, especially after Twitter gets hold of it.


Alas no. I am berated.


Rufus became president about five minutes ago when the previous president (his father), was found with a sword in his back. Instead of investigating, Shinra make banners.


Rufus expresses his displeasure at the poor showing we made during the parade and tells us to look out for those pesky kids from AVALANCHE.


We, the pesky kids from AVALANCHE, board the Shinra tanker along with Rufus and all the soldiers who are supposed to be making sure we don't board the tanker. Fortunately, there are enough comedy disguises for everyone.


Yuffie casually reveals her drug problem.

I don't know why I'm surprised. We only met her yesterday. When she mugged us.


Hurr, hurr.


He looks like a cross between Mr. T and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.


Frankly, I'm surprised it took them this long. I grab Stay Puft and race back to the hold to find the others.


We run into a problem.


I CHOOSE YOU, SHIVA!!!


I cannot actually remember picking up the Shiva materia, but it comes in handy during this fight. For the uninitiated, Final Fantasy games feature "summons", creatures who can be, well, summoned by at least one character to come to the party's aid in battle. Final Fantasy X's entire plot is based around summoning, but only one character (Yuna) can do it.


In this game, any character equipped with the relevant materia can summon. "Shiva", in some form or other, appears in most Final Fantasy games. My favourite is probably her appearence in Final Fantasy XIII, in which she is a motorbike formed from a pair of ice spirits. I'm assuming Lady Gaga's Born This Way album cover is a direct reference.


Shiva blows some "diamond dust" at the Jenova beast.


Barret cheers, happy to be free of the sailor suit.


I helpfully provide a plot recap.

We're chasing Sephiroth, who a) is in possession of his mother's head b) murdered president Shinra and c) is on his way to the "Promised Land".


Fortunately, all exposition is cut short when we arrive at our destination.


The Costa Del Sol is a party town, so we relax a bit and start making fun of Barret.


The locals aren't as chilled as you'd hope attractive young people who spend all day in the sun would be.This guy, for example, is angry about living in a world where Rufus can be president of Shinra while he's just a lowly sailor. I'm about to start sympathising before he launches into a rant about how a lowly, uneducated deckhand such as myself could never understand his aspirational angst. This is pretty offensive but I'm too hot to argue so I head into town.


Is this the red light district?


If this is a peep show, I want my money back.


The bars are lively, though full of complete morons.


I run into Mukki from the Honey Bee Inn, where I wound up after an unfortunate series of events back in Wall Market.

This is beyond awkward, so I  head down to the beach, where Sephiroth has graduated from silent menace to topic of idle chatter.


Wait, what?

Since the only witnesses to Sephiroth's presence all seem to be high on suncream fumes, I'm at a bit of a loss as to what to do next. Still, I've heard a lot of people around town mention the Gold Saucer amusement park. Sounds fun...


Final Fantasy VII Playthrough: Part 13 - Mount Corel, Gold Saucer, and the Prison

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It seems everywhere we go people are talking about a "man in a black cape" who was there right before us.

Why is that? Is there only one black cape on this entire planet?

We can only hope that's the case because following reports of a black cape has led us into some pretty hairy situations, and if the cape doesn't contain Sephiroth, it's going to be really annoying when we finally catch up with it.


It's not just Mount Corel's terrain that is hostile. The entire area is infested with evil eggs.


I'm pleased to see that every egg contains the same toy (a spinning blade), and that Kinder's tyrannical march towards rigid gender identities has not yet reached Mount Corel.


What is with with game designers simulating lens flare? I can't tell if they just don't realise it's something you can't see without a camera, or whether it has some metafictional significance.


At the top of Mount Corel is a vast Mako reactor, belching fumes into the evening sky.


I wonder if these mutant fish near the Mako reactor are a reference to Blinky? Either way, "Spiky Hell" is a pretty good name for an attack.


We traverse the most impractical railway ever built. Its state of disrepair does not bode well for whatever is on the other side.


We progress along the train tracks. While the girls run on ahead, I do some exploring.


This poor man is living in a hole near the tracks. All he has to his name are a few potions and a bulldozer, because he's been pushed out of work by the industrial might of Shinra's Mako power plant.


I listen to his tale of woe and then steal all his potions.


This rope bridge is all that connects civilisation to whatever is on the other side of this canyon, which is foreboding, at least from an economic perspective. I doubt they have decent broadband.


On the other side of the bridge is North Corel, which is by a massive stroke of narrative luck, Barret's hometown. Everyone we meet complains about how everything is Barret's fault. I decide to talk to the locals and see if I can find out why that is.


North Corel was a mining town until the construction of the Mako reactor put everyone out of business. Nevertheless, this dude is still wearing his mining helmet.

Never forget, bro, never forget.


We catch up with Barret at the rope train that leads to the Gold Saucer amusement park (which I'm guessing is the only thing keeping North Corel's pathetic economy ticking over), where he tells us why everything is indeed his fault.


Wow, check out the soldiers guarding that house! Sinister.


In the flashback, we see a town meeting whereby Barret convinces everyone that letting Shinra build a great big reactor on the other side of the mountain is a really good idea.


Thus far, Final Fantasy VII has only laid forth environmental arguments against big corporations building enormous power stations. Here, it posits an economic one as well, in a rather melodramatic fashion. Look what the Mako reactor did to this adorable mining town. Damn you, corporate fatcats!

I have to say, I think everyone in North Corel is being a bit unfair on Barret. Sure, the reactor turned out to be a poor idea, but how could he have known that? And is the decline of a one-industry town a valid argument against progress? I'm guessing there's some corporate loophole that meant the villagers couldn't retrain and get jobs at the reactor, but I don't think Barret deserved to be ostracised. 


This whole story was a complete downer, so we decide to cheer ourselves up at the Gold Saucer amusement park, where several people have told us they've seen a black cape that may or may not contain a man.


After the decaying industrial settings of the Midgar Slums, Junon and North Corel, Gold Saucer's neon extravagance is an assault on the senses.


Gold Saucer is a hedonistic metropolis...


...built in the middle of the desert, accessible only by gondola.


As soon as you get inside Gold Saucer, you are only able to pay for things in GP, currency that can only be acquired and spent inside the park. Like Disney Dollars, basically. An interesting dimension is added to gameplay by charging the player 5GP to save their game, so their real-world commodity, time, is restricted by the amount of virtual GP they have allowed themselves to be fleeced into buying.

This makes the player as irritated by the GP system as Cloud is.


Aeris is ready to enjoy herself, but Barret's still out of sorts and storms off down the "Wonder Square" hole. I grab Rad XIII and follow him.


We begin looking for Barret, but run into a Cait Sith, a terrible fortune teller riding a giant soft toy. He insists on joining our party. Whatever, man.


We continue through the amusement park, which, while clearly being a despicable shrine to corporate excess and plebeian greed, is also SUPER FUN.


Barret has run off down the "Battle" tube, so we follow him.


Moments after we arrive, this soldier collapses, stone dead. We race up the stairs after the perpetrator and discover a room full of bodies instead. The park's owner finds us at the scene of the crime.


Dio. The owner of the amusement park is called Dio. I can only assume that this man, who has achieved so much in life that he has earned the right to spend his remaining days wandering round a theme park in his underwear, is named for the late, great Ronnie James Dio.


He and his lackeys chase us through the park. When he catches up we are ejected through a hatch in the park floor leading down to the desert prison colony below.


Yes. Gold Saucer contains a chute leading directly into a "prison" colony in the middle of an impassable desert, into which the manager can fling people who displease him.

I can only assume Disneyland has one of these.



I failed to take a screencap of Cait Sith's naming screen, so here's a picture of him executing his first Limit, Dice. We were fighting a gang of bouncing heads at the time, if you're interested.

Word in the prison compound is that you can take an elevator back up to Gold Saucer if you are a good enough Chocobo Racer, but you have to get a pass from the "boss" of the prison in order to enter. This all sounds a bit convoluted (not to mention like a psychedelic version of Death Race) but it's probably best not to ask too many questions.

We catch up with Barret (and for some reason, the girls) in a dirty shack. He tells us the story of how he lost his arm.


While Barret supported the construction of the Mako reactor, his friend Dyne strongly opposed it. The two overcame their differences for the sake of their friendship, but on one fateful day...


...there was an accident at the Mako reactor. Shinra retaliated by burning North Corel to the ground, in a totally melodramatic demonstration of power.


Barret and Dyne watch their home burn to the ground, powerless to stop it. Enraged, Dyne starts running back towards the reactor in order to attack Shinra.


Unfortunately he's met by Shinra's head of weapons development, Scarlet, who, if I'm not mistaken, is wearing high heels to a building site.

She orders her men to shoot Barret and Dyne, but succeed only in knocking Dyne off a cliff. Barret reaches out to catch him just in time.


I want to know if anyone has ever had to catch another person over a cliff like this. It is probably the most commonly used dramatic denouement moment in film and games because it has such visual impact, but has it ever happened in real life?


In Barret and Dyne's case, it doesn't work out. Their arms are shot, Dyne falls down the canyon and Barret loses the use of his right arm.

If you prefer your flashbacks to be delivered in the form of excellent rap, please listen to AVALANCE by Mega Ran. The important part starts at 2:15!


Back in the present day, Barret explains that the Dyne incident is responsible for his vendetta against Shinra. He heads outside to lament, but who should show up but Dyne?


Look, Dyne has a gun arm too! He's still angry with Barret for a) letting Shinra into North Corel and b) dropping him off a cliff, so they have a big gun-off, right there in the prison grounds.


They look like a couple of action figures.


Barret wins the fight, and Dyne forgives his old friend.

He mentions that Marlene is actually his biological daughter, gives Barret his blessing to continue raising her before proceeding to then throws himself off a cliff (which didn't kill him last time, but never mind).

We return to Mr Coates, who lets us know that Dyne was in fact the "boss" and that having slaughtered him, one of our party can now take the elevator back up to Gold Saucer and have a go at the Chocobo Races. This is mightily convoluted, but I'm hot, tired, and covered in industrial waste, so I volunteer.


I go up in the elevator (why is there an elevator?) with Ester, who is some kind of Chocobo racing trainer.


I hang out with the other jockeys before the race.


I love the detail in this room, especially the disused monitor lying in the corner amongst the luggage. It's very common for video game rooms to look like show homes, with nothing incongruous disrupting cohesion. Having an abandoned piece of hardware cluttering up a corner because no-one quite wants to get rid of it makes the environments much more believable.


It takes about six tries (because it's sort of a QTE, you see), but I eventually win the Chocobo race.


After the race, Ester approaches me with a note from Dio. After I tear my eyes away from her dress, I discover that as a reward for winning, Dio has given me a buggy that allows me to cross the shifting sands of the desert that surrounds Gold Saucer, and navigate previously unpassable areas of terrain.


It's also pretty snazzy, check out that paint job!

With the ability to cross sands and rapids, the map has opened up considerably. Where will we go next? You'll have to wait until the next part of the playthrough to find out...

Can't you just let a story be a story?

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"I don't understand this at all. I don't understand any of this. Why does a story have to be a socio-anything? Politics... culture... history... aren't those natural ingredients in any story, if it's told well? I mean... can't you you guys just let a story be a story?"

Stephen King, from "Bill Denbrough Takes Time Out" - It (1988) 

This quote is taken from a flashback scene in It where horror writer Bill Denbrough takes a creative writing course and becomes frustrated by the dismissal of his thrilling work by his classmates and the teacher.

Bear that in mind while you read this description of the Centre for Creative Writing at the University of Kent:


It is extremely disappointing to see Kent dismiss "children's fiction" as not worthy of a course that purports to teach its students "high quality literary fiction" that is "full of ideas". I would also like to know what is wrong with "mass-market thrillers", or "old fashioned ballads" in a literary context.

I understand the drive to want to write fiction that isn't disposable, but to dismiss more accessible forms is pure snobbery. As Bill Denbrough points out, a story that's "told well" contains truth, and the best literature should always be more than just a vessel for delivering ideas.

Well-Rendered's Games of the Generation #20: Catherine

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Catherine, Atlus/Atlus Persona Team (2012)

Spoiler alert

The story of a weak-willed man-child who can't be bothered to make decisions and would rather go to the pub, Catherine has an unusual premise for a video game. Its protagonist is Vincent, a software engineer in his early thirties with an over-achieving girlfriend, Katherine.


Katherine won't stop talking about marriage and babies, and as a result he starts spending more and more time in The Stray Sheep, his local bar. There, he meets the outrageously sexy Catherine whom he proceeds to take home for a night of unbridled passion.

That's when the dreams start.

The bulk of Catherine's gameplay takes place in Vincent's tormented subconscious, where every night he must climb an enormous wall of blocks, pushing, pulling, smashing and shifting them to create new paths. All the while he is pursued but some hideous manifestation of his anxiety and guilt, be it a screaming harpy of a wife trying to cut off his legs, a quivering blob of female genitalia threatening to engulf him entirely or a monstrous baby whose flailing limbs come perilously close to knocking him into oblivion. These sections are fiendishly difficult but incredibly addictive, and as someone who doesn't play many puzzle or casual games, they scratched an itch I didn't know I had.
 

Still, it's the overall ingenuity of the narrative that puts this game on the list. It's a story about weakness, rare in a medium so dedicated to empowerment. When he's not scaling vast geometric mountains in his sleep, Vincent doesn't do much, and a good third of the play-time is spent mooching around The Stray Sheep, mumbling to Vincent's friends, drinking too much, fiddling with arcade games and sloping off to the loo to text one (or both) of his girlfriends.

It's not just Vincent's difficulties that are laid bare; the game explores many forms of male angst, from his embittered friend's divorce to the despair of the other patrons he meets in The Stray Sheep, some of whom are having strange dreams too. For all gaming's unintentional focus on male fantasy, the fears, desires and insecurities that fuel such fantasies are left largely unexplored, making Catherine a unique and much-needed entry into the canon.

The narrative veers off course in the final third as the psychological demons that have driven the narrative thus far are replaced by supernatural ones. The focus also shifts away from the corroding effect of cowardice and into psychologically unsound (and philosophically sinister) territory about the importance of reproduction, and while there are several distinct endings, none really complete a satisfactory character arc for Vincent.


My other complaint is that neither Katherine nor Catherine are even remotely appealing as girlfriends. Katherine is a humourless nag who is only interested in Vincent as a means to achieving her life goals, while Catherine is clearly insane (we're talking Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction) and frequently threatens to harm Vincent, Katherine and herself. Although one potential outcome does see Vincent single of his own volition, for the most part it is hard to identify with a protagonist trying to keep a grip on two such undesirable prizes.

Nevertheless, Catherine is on the whole an effective and ingenious exploration not just of relationships, but of inertia. Vincent and his bar fly buddies are stuck in loveless relationships, boring jobs and cycles of deceit, and their coping strategy - to self medicate and thus postpone a painful resolution - are uncomfortably familiar. The gameplay that takes place in real life consists of doing nothing, while the frantic, terrifying "action" takes place in their fevered dreams.

Catherine may be flawed, but it continues developer Atlus' outstanding work in the field of gamifying psychological turmoil, and for that, it should be applauded.


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