Lost In Translation

Evening!


...and now to scare off the audience...


It's officially Video Game Week! 


I mentioned in one of my first posts back from vacation that I would be doing more theme weeks and fleshing out my concepts to a fuller degree. This will serve as the first of such endeavors. So strap in and get ready to be subjected to my thoughts on old, forgotten and underrated Games I Have Loved. First up - Rare's momentum-killing Grabbed By The Ghoulies!

I say this, of course, with an affectionate disdain that any chagrined gamer can attest to wearing. The game is known, in some circles, as being one of the first major missteps by a company whose track record was otherwise legendary. Rare, the British game studio behind the deservedly loved Donkey Kong Country, Goldeneye, Killer Instinct and Banjo Kazooie, had been acquired by Microsoft in a rather controversial move. The first IP they released in the wake of the Microsoft acquisition was the curious, distinctly styled Grabbed By The Ghoulies. Until this point that company had maintained a solid string of critical and commercial successes. Here, though, was their first stumble. As a matter of course, the game became an exclusive Xbox title, released in 2003 to little fanfare. It lives on in infamy with few devoted fans. I humbly count myself among their numbers. But I'll get to that in a minute. First, a little background.

The premise for the game is simple and straight-forward: protagonist Cooper's girlfriend Amber is kidnapped by Baron Von Ghoul after the pair stumble into his haunted mansion and it is up to Cooper to free his love from Von Ghoul's captivity and requisite minions.  It's all by the numbers, with little meat to it, but to be honest, the plot is almost ancillary to gameplay. While many games as of late grow over the top with their convoluted plots, Rare has often set up intricately-made games with the most basic plot, under the guise that plot really is window dressing to get you to the fun. (Par example - someone stole the bananas! Get 'em, DK!) The action is simple - almost everything is done by the two thumb-sticks on the massive Xbox controller we all hated, save a few key moments where a string of buttons get you out a quick-time-event (ugh) scare sequence. Basically you work Cooper through room after room in the mansion, just beating up zombies, imps, skeletons, mummies and other horror mainstays. As you progress, challenges are thrown in the mix to keep things interesting - don't get hit, time limits, kill only these things, etc. The house is filled with things to use as weapons - furniture, plates, whatever can be picked up. The gameplay is so straightforward it's almost hard to believe Rare was behind it. My first time playing it I wondered if I was missing something.

But really it's not even about the gameplay, for me. I think I picked it up for a whole two dollars back in 2006, looking for something to amuse me during a cold winter that saw me A - being quite broke and B - living near a Gamestop. The simplicity of the game made it fun to dink around in while I listened to podcasts. I loved the atmosphere Rare created. It brought back memories of the Halloween sections of the first Banjo Kazooie, which I loved. I got the feeling it was Rare's love letter to old horror films, flaws and all. In some ways it calls to mind the gameplay of Zombies Ate My Neighbors, only updated and dumbed down. As a fresh-out-of-college slacker it was great for having a beer and goofing off with friends, even if we just riffed on how bad some elements of play could be. Hell, look at the title - Grabbed By The Ghoulies. It's a game based around a bit of British slang, of all buzz-killing marketing techniques. I've heard (completely unverified) rumors that Rare named the game before there was a concept, potentially as a sequel to the (column pending) Conker's Bad Fur Day. 

Despite all my kvetching and dog-piling on a game that's almost 10 years old and forgotten by almost all, I still dust off the ol' black box to give it a spin when I miss that time in my life. For a mere two dollars, I got a surprising amount of play out of it. Somehow it made the cut for the Xbox Originals downloads section of the Live Marketplace, again for cheap. For a more positive, affectionate spin on why I might keep coming back to it, check out this write up for kinder words. If you're looking for a bit of a curiosity in the annals of gaming, give it a whirl - maybe you'll find it as charming as I did.


Just don't tell anyone.

Youth On Film

Evening!


It's raining right now, on a muggy Friday night. I love it.


I just got back from a showing of Super 8, the new flick courtesy of J.J. Abrams and Steven Spielberg. Long story short - I loved it. I'm not gonna get all gushy here; the movie was not without its flaws. That being said, I did really have a fun time watching it and would highly recommend it if you want a reason to head to the movies.

As is typical for Abrams, the project was shrouded in secrecy from day one and had a de riguer viral marketing deal to it that encouraged nerds like myself to get all obsessive and hunt down clues to get teases and glimpses of the movie. I have made it painfully clear here that time is one precious commodity of which I have little, so I wasn't about to start diving down rabbit holes to uncover tidbits about a film I would end up seeing later. In fact, the last time I saw a movie in the theater was back in late November of 2010 - the excellent and subdued Monsters, and that was mostly due to my curiosity and the fact that it was at a theater less than two blocks from my apartment.


Anyway.


If you've heard this movie summed up as a mashup of The Goonies, ET and Cloverfield...you're pretty much right on the money. That sounds like damningly faint praise but I promise it really does play out quite well. While the writing and script are fairly rote and your basic meat and potatoes Spielbergian "kids on an adventure while dealing with parental abandonment" genre, the kids chosen for the roles were simply great. A bunch of first timers and unknowns, these kids were a real breath of fresh air compared to some of the jaded and disillusioned Hollywood kids we've all become sadly accustomed to and accepting of. They are surprisingly talented and sweet and genuine, making the impossible seem at least a bit plausible, even as I approach 30.

The Abrams Lens Flare? Full effect, but less so than Star Trek.




The...secret...thing? Good, solid (both in the literal and figurative sense). I can't stand when a special effect/construct feels weightless and impotent (see Hulk and anything Twilight related). Really, the effects in the movie were tops - I found myself wondering how they could put kids in such danger when filming, only then to remember that 95% of the explosions never existed at all. The...secret...thing...was very much in Abrams' wheelhouse, if you've seen other...things...he's had a hand in. My companion for the evening observed that while there were a few interesting touches to...it...we've kinda run th gamut on what's original and novel for....things.

It's fun. It's not heavy handed. I've seen Spielberg step out of his comfort zone with Minority Report and A.I., both movies I enjoy dispute their flaws. I love most of everything Abrams has done, and this is no exception. I say if you want to hit the movies, skip everything else and see Super 8. It's a breath of refreshing sincerity and interesting storytelling in our jaded, irony-driven world. Do yourself a favor and check it out while it's on the big screen.

Mindful Things

Word.


Like, a few of 'em.


That's all I've got for you today. The heatwave, short as it was, finally broke and those of us in the Middle West are coasting nicely back into comfortable temps where death is not a constant threat. It no longer fees like the fires of Hell blowing against your face when you step outside. Yesterday I wrote a bit about Portishead and how the heat reminded me of listening to them last summer. I got to thinking about what else had that kind of thing going for it, that same recollection and similar feel, and it hit me. 


Last summer when my better half was out of town on a business trip I spent my nights working through an unusual video game  doing so because I was afforded some uninterrupted time on the widescreen TV. That game? A re-imagining of the original Silent Hill for the Wii, subtitled Shattered Memories. The game is a slightly tweaked and twisted take on the original experience, with some novel concepts. Among some of these changes were setting the otherworldly parts in a frozen, icy landscape and removing all of the combat from the game, which had really been ancillary in past versions anyway. Most intriguing was the idea that the game would be psychologically profiling you as you played it, altering the game-play to respond to what it interpreted from your choices and behavior. It was an interesting experience, one that was quite unlike any other game I'd played before. I was torn on removing the combat - the game became more of a post-modern adventure but lost some of the danger, which I'm sure was the opposite of the intentions of the creative team. As always, what really hooked me was the sound.

There's a moment in the game in which the protagonist's car plunges off of a bridge into the partially frozen river below. Yes, you of course make it out at that point in the game, seeing that you're only halfway through. It was a tense moment, regardless. I fumbled around with the Wii's mediocre motion controls, frantically hitting the door locks and windows, trying to remind myself its only a game, when I accidentally hit the radio. In a beautiful moment of scoring, the radio starting blaring Akira Yamaoka's version of the Country Western standard 'You Were Always On My Mind', complete with amazingly haunting vocals by series mainstay Mary Elizabeth McGlynn. It was right at the chorus, the moment when this version is bubbling through some churning synthesizers as Mcglynn moans the title. 


The effect was serene and haunting, the best moment of the game for me.

I absolutely adore this version of the song. To be honest, the C&W versions are not my thing. This take on the standard, though - wow. McGlynn's gorgeous, breathy voice has been an integral part of the soundtracks to the games thus far. To be honest I'm a little ashamed I went this long without acknowledging her contributions, as some of the best tracks are due to her involvement. Check out the song and try to see what I experienced - it's dark and I've had some wine. I'm completely wrapped up in this psychological game, headphones on in front of a massive TV. An hour into the session, the car crashes and I'm fumbling in the dark, trying to hit the locks. Then, out of nowhere, but in a very real, believable moment, I hear this.

It's something that will stick with me for a long time, something I'd cite for the long-contested "Can games be considered art?" debate that rages today.

Movie Week Memoriam

Ladies and gentlemen, here we have it!


The sad yet poignant end to Movie Week. 


I've just arrived home from the premier screening of the locally made, insanely funny Wasted On The Young and I have to say - it is funnier than I could have ever hoped. I mean there were times I felt I should stifle myself, lest I ruin someone else's good time. I howled out loud, along with the rest of the sold out theater. Hell, the 9 pm show was sold out, too. I would love nothing more than to give a thorough recapping of the lovable indie film fresh from Paperback Productions, but do to my intimate involvement with the movie, objectivity is almost non-existent. That being said, I absolutely adored the scenes I wasn't in, relishing the performances of my friends and neighbors. It was also an amazing curiosity to see a motion picture shot entirely on VHS - the aesthetic was both unique and enjoyable. If you're interested, head over to the site and buy it for a single dollar. That's less than a sandwich! I won't say anymore at this point, to avoid accusations of shilling. What I will do, instead, is compile every post thus far on the subject of movies. See, I mostly just write about them, not act in them. So here goes:


Brick - a phenomenal, understated, modern day noir flick set in a CA high-school, starring the amazing Joseph Levitt.
Monsters - a quiet, evocative film on a shoestring budget about societal implications of aliens in Mexico. Awesome.
Cloverfield - the flipside to Monsters, wherein a Cthulian-esque monstrosity attacks NY. Very post-9/11.
Fan Edits - a look at the fascinating world of fan edits and how they change our perceptions.
Spirited Away - one of my favorite movies, ever. A beautiful, heartfelt tale of growing up. And ghosts!
The Matrix Trilogy - the groundbreaking series that looks even more impressive in hi-definition. A must see.
Moon - a moving but lonely and ultimately heartbreakingly human science fiction movie. Duncan Jones is a genius.
Mystery Team - the Derrick Comedy debut feature, an absurd take on Encyclopedia Brown, starring Donald Glover.
The Ride - the shorth film that accompanied 30 Seconds To Mars' single 'Kings & Queens. Heavy and gorgeous.
Inception - a look at how music shapes the experience of this phenomenal thriller. Heady, intelligent stuff.
MST3K - the absolute best of the worst. Manos, Hobgoblins, This Planet Earth. You name it. Yikes.
Akira - an examination of how scene and setting impacted my perspective of the Japanese breakout hit.
Terminator - some of the smartest science fiction movies ever, even if the continuity and quality tapers off.
Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs - surprisingly smart and funny, a great under rated and recent movie.
Oldboy - harrowing stuff, but some of the most original film-making I'd seen in years. Watch it with the kids! (Don't)
Wasted On The Young - Minneapolis-made movie makes moves. I'm so proud of everyone involved.
Pleasantville - see Tobey Maguire and Reese Witherspoon before they were stars. It's a charming 90s movie.
Silent Hill - an uneven, but enjoyable horror flick I love more for the soundtrack than anything.
Chasing Amy - Kevin Smith's best work, an honest and moving look at relationships, with plenty of dick jokes, to boot.


There we are, kids. Quite a few, so feel free to peruse and see what you find. I plan on doing more on movies later, but I ought to get back to what I do best. In the future though, I'd like to branch out more, do more themes. Maybe books? Games? Lord knows the web is full of guys like myself writing about video games. Something more obscure....perhaps comedy? Who knows. Hey, I'm open to suggestions - drop a line and let me know what you think! 

Radio Static

Man, these things keep getting later and later.


Hope your weekend was as good as mine, a mix of extreme productivity and quantifiable unwinding. Movie Week continues, but not for long. Tonight, a short look back at an under rated but curious example of the game-to-screen phenomenon. 


I've written a fair deal about my love for Silent Hill, particularly the second installment of the game series. The first post I ever wrote was on how much I love the work of the series' composer, Akira Yamaoka. Imagine, then, my delight when I heard several years ago that there were plans to adapt the games into a film. I was, of course, skeptical about the process, as anyone who has seen video game-based movies like Super Mario Brothers, Double Dragon, Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat can attest, the results are never strong. My fears were dissuaded by the professed admiration of Christopher Gans, a French director who swore up and down that the movie was a labor of love and a dream project of his. So, expectations hovering in the middle, I went to see the big screen adaption of Silent Hill when it was released in theaters.


It was...okay.


I really wanted to love the movie. There were parts of it that absolutely nailed the tone and mood of the surreal-yet-disturbing game series. Other elements were less cohesive or just not that strong. It was, in short, an uneven affair that shone brightly at times but faltered when it came to sticking the ending. Part of the problem, obviously, comes in the translation from game to cinema - games are solitary, intensely personal experiences, whereas a major motion picture is seen in a theater full of people without your hands guiding the experience. Where I had played these games alone in the dark, tensely feeling my way through the dread and abandoned corridors, here was a movie played in a theater in which seemingly disparate elements were forced into an unconfused whole.

There are definitely parts of the film that work, in particular the first half of the movie. In it, we see a great deal of imagery and themes central to the games, without just copying them wholesale. The pervasive fog, the flickering radios, the uncanny movement of things in the mist - some of it plays out as ideally as a film version of Silent Hill could do. In particular, the music and score for these establishing scenes are fantastic, basically amounting to a pseudo-greatest hits of the game's music. Yamaoka's influence on the series is felt strongly here and it works to great effect. The script is not a stand-out element, but the cast does a solid job in handling insane material, making the impossible somewhat believable. It's only as the movie progresses that we lose sight of where we started. While the games excelled at atmosphere and ambient dread there was also a fair degree (okay a hell of a lot of) graphic violence and disturbing images. The film, unfortunately, forgets or confuses the emphasis, switching out effective scene-settings for gore and viscera. By the end of the movie we've strayed straight into a torture film, watching characters suffer seemingly out of obligation rather than plot necessity.

Silent Hill is far from a perfect movie, but it still holds its own, if just for that opening 35 or forty minutes. If I ever wanted to explain the series to someone and have them experience it without them playing it I would have them watch the begging of this movie. Just not the last leg - too brutal, even for me at times. Still, glad to have as strong an adaptation as this. We'll see what happens with the sequel, due next year. As long as they use Akira Yamaoka's music, I'm in.

Ducking Out

In the lieu of a proper column today (and the fact that they tend to be long winded, rambling diatribes as of late) I want to give notice that for the next few days posting will be on an erratic and most likely reduced schedule. Due to familial obligations I will be travelling to California until the middle of next week and as a matter of course I won't have regular access to a proper computer. While I would love to be able to sit down and bang out a proper post every day, even if just for the mental exercise, it simply may not fit into my schedule. Hopefully I can sneak in a break or two while I'm abroad, but at the present I have no expectations for down time to write. Ideally I would have had a backlog of material, but what little there is, isn't fit for posting at the moment.

However, this is not to say there will be a complete dearth of material. I will have my phone with me, as well as a trick or two up my sleeve, so I plan on doing a few impromptu posts on what strikes me at the time. Additionally if you haven't noticed the twitter feed to the right, you can follow me @jdtoycen for updates, observations and whatever the world throws at me. I'll be in San Francisco attending some events, so if things get weird and wacky I'll just start shooting from the hip. Or maybe if I get a stream of consciousness thing going I'll just post whatever happens throughout the day. I'm already rambling the the thought, mentally chomping at the bit to get going, so whatever happens, happens. Stay tuned and see what unfolds!

Until next week.

Let's see what happens! 

Walls of Text

Hmm...

Okay.

The Stand.

One of my favorite books by one of my favorite authors. In college I briefly flirted with majoring in English (if it isn't painfully apparent) and I remember the withering looks I'd get for even mentioning Stephen King. As someone who has read a significant portion of his work I am all too aware of the jokes and perceived quirks. The term I've heard most commonly is schlock, which...I get. Crazy or hokey premises. That actually seems to be a more recent development. The Family Guy gag about a 'lamp monster'? Turns out it wasn't too far off the mark. His recent collection, Just After Sunset, while full of interesting stories, does contain one about what essentially is a haunted exercise bike. Yeah.

Despite these obvious flaws, there is plenty worth defending. Some of his character work is absolutely outstanding, particularly his early work. Do we discount U2 and all their bland posturing despite their historic early work? Or say, Kubrick and his decent into muddled results in his later years? Carrie stands out. So does The Shining, which also was turned into a phenomenal film by Kubrick. Hell, look at some of the movies that have been adapted from King's novels - The Green Mile. Stand By Me, The Shawshank Redemption and the recent re-teaming with Frank Darabont for the grim and gritty Mist, based on a spectacular novella. Basically it boils down to King taking flack from the academia but writing widely popular material. So why do I advocate a popular if hackneyed author? Because one of his best, if almost forgotten these days, novels has recently been green lit for production as a major motion picture. You should read it before the hype grows and fades, only to leave the inevitable bad taste in your mouth of a Hollywood book adaptation. 

King has (somewhat sheepishly) admitted that his secret intention when starting The Stand was to essentially create a modern, American take on Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. Obviously it's an arrogant and overly ambitious thing to do. The crazy thing is, though, is he came pretty damn close. It's a massive, sprawling book, full of richly drawn characters and tons of vivid scenery. Do yourself a favor if you undertake the book - pick up the expanded and uncut edition, which clocks in at an almost obscene 1141 pages. If you don't like it you can always hollow it out and store a Bible inside. It's that big. But go for it! It's worth it to get the extra flesh on the characters and subtle plot developments.

I'm getting ahead of myself, though.

The book stemmed from King overhearing a piece on the radio about a chemical spill that killed a large amount of sheep in Utah. Had the wind shifted slightly, Salt Lake City would have been affected instead of livestock. While it made the news at the time, it was quickly swept under the rug with surprisingly little fanfare. The inherent potential in such an idea was immediately apparent to King. What sets the ball in motion for the whole novel, then, is the accidental release of a superbug, a flu-like virus, from a chemical/germ lab in the desert. One man and his family make it out and the first section of the novel traces the spread of the disease as we are introduced to some of the characters. This opening volley has been hailed as some of King's best work for its honest voice and believable setting. It's not until the bug spreads and humanity suffers that things get weird.

The flu, or Captain Tripps as it comes to be known, turns out to be 99.99% fatal. It spreads across the country with ease, since people were dismissing it as allergies or a cold at first onset. We meet our cast, people from all walks of life, as it culls the population. Society starts to break down and people, understandably, wig out. Larry Underwood, one-hit wonder and washing-up rocker, experiences a creepily deserted New York, empty but for that surviving .01%. King does an amazing job of painting the picture in this section of the book. Things simply break down and slowdown to a halt. Reactors blow. Bodies rot. Many people die alone. It really is disturbing and terrifying.

We've only just begun! 

The people we've met thus far begin to have dreams, vivid ones, of a corn field in Boulder. Either subconsciously or just out of desperation, our cast heads west, towards Boulder, CO. As various cast and crew converge along the way, alliances are formed and pockets of humanity agree to work together. Arrival in Boulder brings about the formation of an ad hoc society of survivors, led in part (though she would rather not have it) by a 108 year old woman named Abigail Freemantle. 

At the same time, a separate faction of people are compelled to head farther west, to Las Vegas, under the tutelage of a shadowy stranger. He's described in nervous spits as the "dark man" and the "walkin' dude", someone whose eyes you won't want to meet and whose smile makes you sick and uneasy. King's descriptions of this man, this force of a person, are eerie and strange, effective in the best way. As these people settle into their lives and going about the business of getting back to civilization a conflict begins to emerge and a showdown is inevitable.

Obviously condensing over 1100 pages into a few paragraphs does no justice to the saga. It's a staggering work of world-creation and character development that King constructs bit by bit, until you're deep into the novel with a rich cast of people (and a lovable dog, natch) all with fleshed out, believable motivations. The ambition to do the Americanized Ring cycle was insane, but rewarding. What results is a book that is so real and rich that I've read it twice and plan on going in for round three somewhere down the line. It's made an impact on others as well. Many of his fans cite it as his best work. It's clear that he was at the height of his game when King wrote this. Whether you're on a plane or trapped inside due to the incoming blizzards, I highly suggest you give this book a go.


Chemical warfare. Germ labs. The last people on Earth. Sometimes King's scary material isn't the supernatural, but the dangers of our modern world. He hit it on the head in this case. It's a fantastic book, in every sense of the word. Happy reading, and sleep tight, kids. After all, it's not like this could ever happen in real life, right?

Bombast

Alright friends and neighbors, today we're going to talk about a different kind of monster movie.

My post last week on indie-extraordinaire Monsters extolled the virtues of subtlety and how to evoke mood by presenting the quieter, more tense aspect of the unseen. The appeal in that film was the ambiance and it's minimal presentation, eschewing EXPLOSIONS for long silences and the unknown. Today's subject matter is pretty much the opposite of the little monster movie that could. What I'm referring to is 2008's Cloverfield.

While directed by Matt Reeves, known mostly for his TV work on the show Felicity, the movie is basically the brain child of J.J. Abrams, creator of the genius and sorely missed Lost. Abrams said the idea stemmed from seeing Godzilla figurines in a Japanese toy shop with his son. Seeing the iconic monster and realizing the impact it had on the culture, he thought to himself "I want to make an American monster" in that vein, our own thing that is unique to this generation. 

The movie was filmed under tight wraps with only the slightest of details leaking out during production. A teaser trailer for the movie was shown before theatrical screenings of Transformers, showing the head of the Statue of Liberty being flung down the street in Manhattan with crowds gathering to gape at the spectacle. That was all the audience had to go on, unless you followed the viral marketing that popped up innocuously online. This was back in the days where Myspace was still considered a social viability for relevance, as opposed to today's ultra-ubiquitous Facebook. What fans (correctly) assumed was that the pages were of characters in the movie. These were all linked together from a central website that showed photos of a fractured and broken New York skyline. Further hidden links led to pages showing a beverage company that mined its secret ingredient off the ocean floor. Follow those links and you get a video of a deep-sea drilling station that was sunk by an undersea attack. All of that was meant to give clues to the movie's plot.

Ready? Here goes.

The Blair Witch monster eats New York, attractive people flee in terror.

That about sums it up!

While I admit its a bit of an over simplification, I still enjoy it for what it is. The movie is a modern-day monster movie, a popcorn flick with shaky camera-style, lending a found-footage aesthetic. A group of attractive young people are having a going away party for their friend Rob, and on the night of the party, as another friend films the debauchery, a monster from the ocean floor, 25 stories tall, begins stomping through New York. The next 70+ minutes are spent alternating between running while turning to film fleeting glimpses of the monster and gasping for breath in hiding holes, asking each other just what that thing was and what should they do now? Desperate rescue attempts and edge-of-your-seat close calls fill out the rest of the running time. There are a few cool and creepy moments, such as running from smaller parasites that fall off the larger creature, or stumbling onto the military's ad-hoc quarantine and medical zone.

I know it sounds like I'm pretty roundly dismissing the movie, but despite its obvious flaws and at times frustrating camera work I still hold a soft spot for this overlooked oddity. To me, the movie feels authentic and genuine, despite the ridiculous premise and bland characters. Self interested, boring people in New York? I'll buy it. But what I think really sold it for me is what Roger Ebert, of all people, suggests about the film. He saw it as an unnerving take on our worst (unconscious) fears after September 11th. To ironically allow vanity steer my post, its been said that my generation was one that was profoundly affected by the attacks because we were forced to watch it over and over again on TV after the fact. Seeing this shaky cam footage of people roughly my age, running and screaming from some Lovecraft-ian horror-from-the-depths does affect me and gets a visceral response. It all adds up to one messed up movie. It's short, frenetic and barely focused but it still appeals to me with its immediacy and (to use a phrase I take from The Simpson's Lindsey Naegel) in-your-face attitude. 

Yes, this is a flawed movie. It's short, the people are sketches at best and there really is no plot besides "RUN!" but I still find myself enjoying it under the right circumstances. Most often, that would be on a massive TV with a good sound system and a beer. Maybe a couple beers, actually, but the violent camera work might make that difficult, come to think of it. Basically if you're looking for a straight-forward popcorn flick that might actually make you think a bit, give a look. I'm pretty sure it's widely dismissive reception kept the price down.

Oh, and the monster? Pretty awesome and strange, if you ask me. 

A Quiet Town

I'm taking a gamble here and assuming I can fit in an entire entry in the usual style on a Friday evening. Maybe I'm too optimistic for my own productivity, or maybe I just think I can fit it in before my friends in the excellent hip hop duo Mnemosyne hit the stage tonight. Either way, I'm diving in head first.

I've previously written about my love for the music of Akira Yamaoka. Today I wanted to write a bit about how I became familiar with his work. The method in question is one of my favorite things of all time, but one that I am always a bit hesitant to really throw myself behind in a public spectrum due to the off putting nature of it. The love I speak of is Silent Hill 2. I realize how silly it sounds to say its the sequel that does it for me, but the fact that this game is the second entry in what would become a long running franchise is almost irrelevant due to its stand-alone nature.

But I digress.

Let me start over. 

Silent Hill was a sleeper hit on the Playstation, released in the late 90s. There's not a great deal that you need to know about it for this article except : 1) its a psychological horror-based videogame 2) the distinct visual style is critical to the appeal and essence of the game 3) it is set in a town called Silent Hill, in which there is something very...wrong. Really, that is all one would need to know to be able to jump into SH2 and not feel like you were missing a crucial part of the story; the designers and directors did a fantastic job for creating a unique and independently strong game related only in setting and tone. That the game is rooted in psychological horror is also integral - its purpose is to disturb instead of scare, to unnerve rather than make you jump.

The protagonist of the game, James Sunderland, receives a letter in the mail from his wife Mary that says she is waiting for him in Silent Hill, in their "special place". Two problems lie within his receiving this letter - he can't recall what specifically that place would be and, most importantly, his wife is deceased. "Right," you may say with incredulity, "So what's the trick, she faked him out, or its a trap or something?" Very genre savvy of you, but no, it is no spoiler to say she is dead. No more. Corporeal yet unliving. It is the first indication that something is very wrong in the game, either with the town or perhaps our protagonist. What follows is a disturbing adventure into the depths of a man's psyche, searching frantically for a past that eludes him at every turn. 

The game was released for the Playstation 2 and Xbox in September of 2001 and stood as a benchmark for many years for how to tell a story and create a rich, motivated character for players to control. (The fact that I dove headlong into the game after the terrorist attacks is the subject for an entirely different post altogether.) To this day, its legacy is one of high acclaim and a shining example of how to tell a tale of interactive fiction. I find myself thinking and describing it not really under the term of 'videogame' in my mind but as a movie you have an element of control over. It's not a free-roaming piece of sandbox city, a la Grand Theft Auto but a linear tale of curiosity and morbidity that the player guides James through. What allows for such a bizarre story to be told, and what continues over from the original game, is the atmosphere, both literally and figuratively.

Allow me to veer off the intended path for a moment to explain something technical.

The hardware for the original Playstation, though impressive for the time, was not without its limitations. In order to render large, open areas intended for exploration the designers had to limit what would be rendered and presented on screen. Basically it boiled down to not being able to create as full and detailed world as possible without some restrictions on graphical quality. The design team for Silent Hill, realizing that their game would put a heavy strain on the hardware, decided to disguise the limitations by incorporating it into the aesthetic. In a clever twist on form versus function, they used the distance-limiting fog of the era's computing power as a way to set mood and ambience for a spooky feeling. What was initially a lack of visible distance became a pervasive and eerie fog the player had to contend with. This fog, while not strictly necessary for the PS2 hardware, was retained for the somber and otherworldly nature it afforded. 

Now, to get back on track.

The game, as I stated, is a disturbing tale of horror that guides you from a lookout over the town, through the town itself and into its depths, literally, as you search for your deceased wife, Mary. You descend onto a wooded path into town and when you arrive in town, it seems completely deserted. Unfortunately this turns out not to be the case, as James stumbles onto twisted and uncannily inhuman creatures that attack him and he is forced to defend himself. As he ventures through the empty town, quiet except for his footsteps, a feeling of unease comes over the player. Through the fog you can hear things moving, coming closer. Sometimes...things...swoop out of the darkness to attack. The game takes you through abandoned apartments, a dark hospital, through the historical society and into the depths of the towns old and decrepit prison beneath. It is a game not of bombast and jump scares but of dread and terror through perceived threats. 

The nature of James' marriage and how he dealt with his wife's passing is involved as well, to an amazingly insightful degree. His character is one of a mourning man who struggles with loss and memories that are fading away, to be obscured by justification and self-assertion. I don't want to go to far into the details but the revelations about motivations and the nature of deceit the first time I played the game were revelatory and to this day its held as a pinnacle of story telling in the videogame industry. All of this adds up to why I feel like the game is a 'game' only in the loosest sense, defined only by medium and not experience.

What little soundtrack there is, is haunting and absolutely beneficial to the experience. Yamaoka created music and soundscapes that only heighten already-pervasive moods, be they the eerie and somber stretches of exploring alone, or the unnerving horror of a rotted-out hotel with strange creature crawling out of the woodwork. Synthed percussion hum like a heartbeat, pianos drone in haunting tones. To boot, there are themes for each character, or motifs, like an opera. Take a listen here to one of my favorite pieces of the game, let alone some of my favorite incidental music ever.

While I could write for pages and pages about this game and the entire series on top of it, I need to put a pin in this post. I can feel the fact that I want to do a more in depth analysis on the game and some of the themes down the line, so I will let today's entry serve as an introduction, or perhaps an enticement. If you're a gamer and haven't experienced it, you're missing out and should spring for the five or ten dollars it would cost to pick up a used copy. If you're not a gamer (my condolences) then either have someone walk you through just a few minutes of it or risk taking a look at the movie adaptation, which was a mixed bag. I personally enjoyed it - it's about as good of an translation as you could do with Hollywood's abysmal track record for movies based on games.


Honestly, I feel that the game stands on its own as a phenomenal piece of interactive fiction that is sorely unappreciated, even within its own audience. If you can handle the horror, give it a look. I'm glad I did. Stay tuned for more on this amazing game.

Noises In The Vents

To make my first foray into the heading of Warm Fuzzy Viewings I'm focusing on a segment from a Treehouse of Horror episode that I could write about for page after page. The Segment, titled The Thing and I, from Treehouse of Horror VII, broadcast October 27, 1996, The piece is one of my favorite Simpsons Halloween segments ever written. In a plot that preys on our childhood fears of 'something in the attic', the essence of the story is that Bart's formerly conjoined twin brother Hugo has been chained in the attic and fed a bucket of fish heads for the last ten years. According to Dr. Hibbert he was "too crazy for Boy's Town, too much of a boy for Crazy Town," and was confirmed to be evil after a routine soul smear. Homer's decision to chain him up was, in his words, "the only humane thing to do." 

The segment starts off with the Simpson clan hearing noised in the attic and seeing fleeting images in the vents, a thoroughly creepy start to a scary story. When Marge and Homer deny their efforts to find out more, Bart, Lisa and Maggie use some unsupervised time to dig into the mystery. Here's why it qualifies for consideration: 

- most of the story takes place at night 
- Simpsons kids investigate during a rain storm (Homer: "See Marge? Who needs a car wash you can drive around in the rain?) 
- Kids hide in the closet to escape Hugo (with requisite fake-out gag involving vases 
- Air vents and Attic mysteries! 

Basically if it had started to snow halfway through this story it would have hit all the qualifiers for a Warm fuzzy Viewing. The Thing and I is an eerie, not alone in the house, the calls are coming from upstairs kind of story that cements exactly why this show excelled at Halloween specials.