Dark Souls - Power of the untold

I've been playing video games all my life, but I also universally hate the stories in video games. With few exceptions they are always trite, predictable, or just generally uninteresting to me. What I want is gameplay that satisfies and all story does tends to get in the way of that.

Well this is not a review of Dark Souls, but I can't go any farther without mentioning how Dark Souls filled just about every niche within me. The gameplay, the atmosphere, the setting, the soundtrack; everything about it is incredible. I would even go so far as to readily claim Dark Souls 1 is a perfect game—not because it does not have flaws, but because there is nothing about the game that could have made the experience better. To this day, years after its release and a number of sequels and successors, I have yet to meet its equal.

But, again, this is not a review of Dark Souls. The purpose of this article is not to focus on Dark Souls as a game or to use it as a measuring tape for other games. I am not even going to analyze the story or its philosophic implications. Instead, what I'd like to focus on is just how unique Dark Souls' story is by the way it is presented, and how that presentation bleeds into the lives of those who play it.

The Twilight Zone: Hocus-Pocus and Frisby - Lies and stories

I love the original Twilight Zone. It is one of the most consistently interesting TV shows I have seen. To top it all off, it is something that remains unique even with its long-standing influence. For all of its faults, it easily remains as one of my favorites. And of the show, one of the best episodes is "Hocus-Pocus and Frisby," an episode about an old storyteller whom I admire.

Fargo pt. 2 - Revisiting expectation

I've been thinking a lot about my personal life recently, and as a result I feel that I actually have more to say about Fargo than what was included in the original post. I don't have much else to say about the movie itself, but I do have a bit to say about how its messages play into my own personal philosophy.

Fargo - Betrayal of expectation

While I do love the Coen brothers' films, I have to admit it took me a while to appreciate Fargo. I just couldn't quite understand the reputation behind it—not that I ever thought it was bad, of course. I really liked William H. Macy's acting, and I wondered why Frances McDormand won the Oscar instead of him. I also wondered on its message and morals. Critics seemed to like the "folksy" nature of the leading lady, but the story itself was often painted in a simplistic light: good is good, bad is bad, and justice prevails. I won't argue against the value of this message, but it seemed to be an awfully "easy" answer that did not quite sit for me. Was it really worthy of the Academy Award not only for lady McDormand but also for its screenplay? What about the cult following? Were people really that amused by what I was seeing?

Well the nice thing about great movies is that you walk away from them with your own interpretation. I have come to my own conclusion and I do not have to rely on the critics, the fans, or any dead author to tell me what to think about this movie.

Spoilers will be mentioned.

JoJo's - The difference between East and West

I really hate being able to predict what is going to happen in a story before it happens.

Sure, sometimes its not a problem, even when it comes to stories I already know. If the story is good  then even if its my second or third or fourth time watching I can get lost in what is happening. But more often than not, I find that I can predict what is going to happen, and I hate it. The worst is when the writer(s) think they are being clever, so they draw out the intended tension and instead end up frustrating me. It happens with story events which are so clearly labeled there may as well be a warning: "This is going to be a problem."

Its even worse when this sort of thing happens to characters. A bad moment in the story can pass while the rest of the tale theoretically rebounds, but a bad character? You're stuck with those. There may be no getting rid of them. Most often the best case scenario is that the character is swept under the proverbial rug like Jar Jar Binks after Phantom Menace or sent back to their home planet like Poochie. The only other hope for such bad characters is for them to undergo such a radical change that little to nothing remains. Some characters, however, are simply flat and lifeless with nothing of value to be noted. The most common "lazy" character writing I find is the "Batman" type of character: strong, silent, dark, brooding. This way they can seem interesting and the writer never has to make them interesting because these traits theoretically justify any lack in expression that would expose any depth the character could have. Characters written like this can be good, like Batman, but more often than not it is a lazy, shallow excuse for character development, also like Batman. Not only is it lazy, but because it is recurring enough to be common, it becomes more and more boring with every example. Characters need depth, and too often when it comes to comics the writer(s) will be afraid to commit to any lasting consequences involving their main character. A tragedy may occur only for it to be forgotten about in the next issue or episode, yet we are expected to keep following this character and enjoying them when there is no real consequence for any intended tragedy.

Peanuts - A part of the gallery

It is one of the most famous works to ever exist despite its relative young age. Everybody knows about it. Its humor and character crosses generations. It was one of the earliest (if not first) examples of philosophy in serialized newspaper comics. It stands as a paragon of its medium, if not for its monetary value then for its long-standing reputation and influence and had such a "shelf life" that it managed to outlive those it influenced. For example, Calvin & Hobbes was created by Bill Watterson, born in 1958, and the comic ran from 1985 to 1995; The Far Side was created by Gary Larson, born in 1950, and ran from 1980 to the beginning of 1995.

Peanuts started as Li'l Folks back in 1947. Charlie Schulz would not end his syndication until the year 2000.

But there's more to Peanuts than simply being extensive. If that were all it took, Garfield would be the subject of this post instead, a comic which arguably has an even deeper impact on culture if only by virtue of the money it makes each year.

But I don't care about money; certainly not where this blog is concerned. Peanuts did something more for the American people than just sell them something: Peanuts struck a chord deep in the hearts' strings.

Samurai Cop 1 & 2 - Awareness is distraction

As I think about it, I realize that I have a love for "kitsch" or "camp" or "cheese" or whatever else you call it. I like cheap stuff: I love the covers of old pulp fiction books. I love those cheesy dragon knick-knacks you see in lower-middle class homes. I love retro fashion trends that get caught up in thrift stores. Yes, I even love those "so-bad-it's-good" movies people only hear about from nerdy review channels, although the difference is that I sometimes enjoy those movies warts and all. Sure, they're usually cheap, shoddy, half baked, or don't make a lick-a-sense when you spend any time thinking about them. But not only do I not mind their flaws, oft I feel more engaged in one of these "B movies" than in anything that's released in theaters even if it does have a bigger budget or actual competence in its production.

But there's a dichotomy here, because just because something is cheap doesn't mean I will like it. Take for example one of my favorite B movies: Samurai Cop, considered to be one of the worst movies ever made. Now I'm a very critical person who chomps at the bit to make fun of things, but Samurai Cop? I can't make fun of Samurai Cop. Not as I watch it, not as I right this article, not even in the boredom of my day-to-day life when I spontaneously quote movies to myself. Whenever I watch Samurai Cop I am engrossed in it to such an extent that I scarcely laugh while watching it. All my snidery goes out the window. Most movies cannot claim that feat, not even its sequel which was released twenty five years later.