Bits For Rent

Today was a great day for video games. Not only did I trade in the fantastically underwhelming Final Fantasy III — good fucking riddance, I say to thee — but I let Hotel Dusk go as well. The irony there is that I got $24 for FFIII, and only $18 for Hotel Dusk, which is a far superior product. Speaking of which, did I ever manage to write anything about that game? Nothing comes to mind, so allow me to splooge all over my own blog for a moment.

Hotel Dusk is a fantastic literary experience wrapped in the retro, black and white coating of a 1970s noir and shoved into the small confines of a DS cartridge. It is not a very good game — the actual puzzles and environment interactions range from mind-numbingly dull to fist-in-the-wall hard — but I don’t think it ever tries to establish itself as one. Instead, it opts to provide the player with a fascinating yarn about a cop on the hunt for his long lost partner and the people that may or may not be able to help track him down. It’s not the most well told story, either, though its dialog is something truly joyful to read. I honestly wish there was a way for me to fit “Shut your head, Louie” into my daily vocabulary, but alas at the times we live in. OK… I’m being rather coy here, so let’s just come out with it: as a fan of good fiction, I had a really great time with the story and characters of Hotel Dusk, and I hope that you may one day get the chance to enjoy them as well. There, now let’s get back to the loot.

In exchange for Dusk and FFIII, I picked up quite a horde: Viewtiful Joe 2 (the last good one), Resident Evil Remake (it looks so pretty, but it plays so awful!), Dark Cloud 2 (haven’t played it yet, but apparently it’s the Second Coming), and last and certainly least… Devil May Cry 2. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, but it was that or Killer 7 and when I asked the GameStop guy what to get, he just kind of sighed and said “Devil May Cry 2.” I think that’s rather telling of how much suck is possible in a game… without that game being Sonic the Hedgehog for 360/PS3.

So I haven’t yet sat down to really try any of these out, since I have a monster of an exam on Friday that may very well crush me if I’m not careful, but rest assured this weekend will be an unholy orgy of digital interaction. Me, my Wii, a TV, and maybe the PS3. Actually, definitely the PS3. Virtua Fighter 5 was in my goodie bag as well.

Having not played a VF before 4, I never really got into the series. In fact, I can hardly consider myself a fighting game fan, as pretty much every brawler other than VF4 and Super Smash Bros. has made the sad trip back into the store to be traded in. But with VF5, I think there’s hope. Even without the “sticks” — religious relics that no true fighting fan can play let alone breathe without — me and my roommate have had an absolute blast going back and forth beating the utter crap out of one another. It’s part of the reason for this entry’s title: there ain’t no blood in this series. There are, however, God-like uppercuts and spine-cracking pile drivers. And for the first time since, well, Soul Calibur 2 I suppose, I’m actually looking forward to my next time playing the game. Take that, Mortal Kombat, Guilty Gear (yeah, a little too WTF for me), and Tekken. I’m playing with the big boys now. Literally. As a Lei-Fei and Pai/Vanessa player, I’m stacked against my roommate’s Jeffry, Wolf, and Brad nearly every match. But those slow fuckers don’t stand a chance! It’s actually at the point now where I’m using “skill” to beat him, and giving him opportunities to win just to keep him less frustrated. How modest of me, no?

Well… this was a rather disjointed entry, but my brain’s cooked for tonight. I’ll be back again soon with more VF5, maybe some flOw (!!), and of course the retro round-up.

Addendum: I totally forgot. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Tournament Fighter was the only fighting game I can safely say I have “played the shit out of.” God that was an awesome time. Fuckin’ robot guy was cheap as fuck, though.

It’s true.  The great grandfather of Africa and timeless hero of the Republican party, the Elephant is a complete FREAK in the sack.  Do not ask me how I know this, for I do not wish to do you any mental harm that cannot be undone.  Simply accept this as fact, and let us move on.

I got so wrapped up in talking about all the awesome movies I saw in January that I left out a bunch of other stuff I got to do that was cool.  For starters, I finally sunk my teeth into V for Vendatta, the graphic novel which inspired the kick-ass movie from last spring. I’m roughly halfway through it now and it is much, much better than the last Alan Moore novel I read, Watchmen.  In trying to figure out why this work seems to click so much more with me than the latter, I have come to two possible conclusions.  First, that this is actually the better book, and Watchmen is simply a nerdgasm that could never achieve the success of V.  The other solution is that I adored the movie so much as to let it’s fineries rub off on the book as I’ve been reading it, like one may pour A1 on a steak to better appreciate the flavor.  Both are equally likely.

I personally felt that the tone of Watchmen was a bit too preachy and self-aware, as if Alan Moore himself were nudging me in the side every time an overheard song or conversation synced with the panel in a very witty and oh-so-clever fashion.  With V, the dialog syncing and musical overtones are used far less frequently (I literally groaned whenever the pirate story turned up on the next page), and much more effectively.  When V sings an interlude between part one and two and the panels depict all the misery and lowliness of this dystopian England, it works, and it feels right.  It’s something that fits with his character- very theatrical and menacing and full of foreboding.  Maybe it was because the characters, the super heroes, of Watchmen, were just mortals in suits.  Maybe it’s because V is such a focuses and single-minded enigma.  I really don’t know.  All I can say is that it’s a fantastic book so far and I’m eager to finish it.

Elsewhere in the realm of novels, there lies a little gem for the DS.  I’m sure you’ve gotten wind of the hype on the internets, as people everywhere are riding high on the game’s unique style and deep well of intrigue.  I speak, of course, of Hotel Dusk: Room 215.  Hotel Dusk is, simply put, a detective novel in game form, with a few interactive puzzles to change the pace every now and then.  Its most intense moments come in the form of grilling other patrons of the hotel about the secrets they’re intent on keeping, its quietest simply strolling the hallways, waiting for your next encounter.  I cannot say that it is a game for everyone, as it does the odd thing and requires you to read.  Shocking, I know.  But you would be amazed at how few people there are in the world that can appreciate a good yarn.  Do not allow yourself to be one of them.  For $30 you can go and get a remarkably well-written noir story that plays across two screens, full of beautiful character art and a fantastic amount of panache.  You can thank me later.

Here, too, is where I shall make my recommendation for Pandora, and internet radio program that let’s you be the DJ, punching in a favorite artist and getting a streaming sample of similar sounds to pick and choose from at your pleasure.  Any fan of music owes it to themselves to try this program out and see if they can’t stretch their tastes a little and try out something new.  How else are you going to get that iPod library up to 6000 songs?

I feel obliged to blog today, although why and about what have yet to reveal themselves to me. I suppose that for the time being I shall, as the saying goes, “run with it.”

There is a rumor going around that movies are getting too long and overblown on fat budgets that make even Rueben Studdard look like Nicole Richie. (Where the hell is that guy, anyway? Hanging out with Justin?) I, for one, disagree wholeheartedly with this notion. Sure, you may have to take a piss break or two more than you’re accustomed to — those of you with poor bladders, that is — but the fact of the matter is that you can’t rush art. Do people feel ill of Square-Enix when they announce that Final Fantasy MX is going to be over 60 hours long? Hell no. Do people get mad at Stephen King for writing 800-page novels? Well, maybe for the novel part, but not the length. And so why should we take offense when a director decides he wants to leave less than 70% of his movie on the cutting room floor?

The fact of the matter is this: most great movies are over two hours long. A lot of really good ones are nearly 120 minutes. Goodfellas, The Godfather, Apocalypse Now, The Lord of the Rings, The Empire Strikes Back, Dances With Wolves, Taxi Driver… I’m trying to be random and make a point at the same time, but I assume you catch my drift.

The point is, going to the movies is not supposed to be a throwaway experience. Movie sales have declined over the past decade because we’ve become a culture of instant satisfaction and unabashed gratuity. YouTube, Google, iTunes, portable music, video, and TV players. MP3 Cell phones. The world is running on a caffeine cocktail stuck straight into its brain. If we can’t get somewhere within 10 minutes it’s a long trip. If we aren’t watching something with half-second clips every few minutes its boring and unwatchable. Take a look at music videos over on MTV… I mean VH1… I mean Fuse… Or perhaps you should just pull out your video iPod. LOOK AT THAT SHIT BEING SHOVED THROUGH YOUR OPTIC NERVE. It’s like a bad acid trip that you are being forced to look at for 3:30 minutes. If you get upset that a director with actual talent is making movies too long, you ought to lynch the hacks that sync video to your “pop” music for six figures a pop. But it’s all hugs and kisses and forgiveness, because they did bring the sexy back.

The hive mind mentality of pop culture needs to get its ass kicked for being so hypocritical (yeah, that’s the weirdest personification ever, sue me). But I’ll be damned if studios edit the next Ridley Scott film because people’s ritalin wears off before the film ends.

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you can look a hurricane right in the eye

I waited until after 9/11 to write tonight’s post, although whether I can credit that to being daft or pure coincidence is another matter. Suffice it to say, however, I’m back with more to spew about than that sprinkler your drunk friend ran over backing out of someone’s driveway. Ah, the beauty of the metaphor. It almost brings a tear to one’s eye, no?

This week, I’ll run the gamut on the following topics, in no order whatsoever: House, Star Fox Command, courtesy, and Dracula. To start, I have been reading The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova, a first-time novelist and lover of European cultures and the 20th century. In essense, the novel is the Da Vinci Code of the vampire world, simply taking the concept of Jesus’s living heir and replacing it with a still-living Vlad Dracula. Like Brown’s book, Kostova blends the factual with the fictional, intertwining details of Vlad Tepes, or Vlad the Impaler, with the fictitious intrigues of the occult. Only a third of the way through the book myself, I’m unsure of exactly what will go down between our heroine and the Count, but I’m becoming fairly certain that the legend of Dracula will NOT be a legend, and that some wicked and utterly fantastic climax is awaiting me. After all, this is Dracula. That automatically made the book worth buying. The conspiracy theory and uncovering of his history is simply icing on the cake. Verdict: Recommended.

As for Command, or SFC as we call it, it’s a bit of an anomaly to me. I am enjoying the rather simplistic multiplayer due to its skill-based orientation, and unlocking each of the surprisingly unique endings has been a treat, especially in a series as devoid of character as Star Fox. Honestly, it’s been a decade since we’ve been treated with a decent title, and I’ll milk this one for all it’s worth. Currently a rank I in online but that will no doubt change to an A by week’s end.

And lastly, there’s House. What can I say? I never knew I had such an interest in medicine, let alone diagnosing patients, but the amoral actions of Hugh Laurie (of Blackadder fame) have me sold on this series. Aside from LOST and 24, there is no other show I would consider making time for during the week. At least, until Rome gets it second season. Because violence and sex are just what a growing boy needs. Well, that and beer. Can’t forget the beer.

Huh. It seems I missed “courtesy.” Apologies for that, my dear and unsuspecting reader. Hey, how did you get to be reading this anyway? No matter, if I’ve managed to keep your attention at all, I’m outdoing myself. Hopefully the next post will be less filler and more worth reading-er.

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i tore my mind on a jagged sky