hindsight

So, at long last, 2020 draws to a close.

We are far from out of the woods, but all the same all I want to say is: thank fucking Christ it's over, holy fuck. This year has been an unrelenting nightmare to top off the four preceding hell years. But I mean, I don't need to tell you this. You know. You were there. I'm not here to do a recap; you're tired of it by now.

The oddest thing right now, though, is that people are finally starting to have hope. The past several years were bad, and we knew they would be bad; a few people still dared to say "it couldn't possibly be any worse" but for the most part we looked for small victories and tried our best not to tempt fate. But this year? There are vaccines. The fascist lost the election, and his attempts at a coup seem to be falling apart.

It won't happen right away. We are, of course, badly mismanaging the vaccine distribution; there are still opportunities for the fascist coup to cause damage; the start of 2021 will still be a struggle. But suddenly it's a struggle with, if not an end, then at least a reprieve in sight. And what a fucking relief that is. The fact that thinking of a future that isn't wall-to-wall misery is a novelty is pretty sad but that's where we are.

If there is hope, it's still a faint glimmer. But it's there, it's real, you can touch it. People are starting to worry about what happens when the pandemic is over, wondering what returning to the old normal will be like. Will it be hard? Will it even be possible?

Whatever happens, it will continue to be hard. And whatever happens, the ongoing disaster that is the death of the American empire is not over. But there is no shame in celebrating a fleeting victories, in finding joy in little places, in smiling at the fleeting glimpse of light in a dark place.

Happy 2021, friends. I hope it's a good one.

dreaming of a bright future

I seldom remember much about my dreams, apart from the dim sense that something is wrong--a world where the edges are too sharp, the surfaces too rough, where nothing fits. This is nothing new; but every now and then the border between the dream world and the waking world weakens until that pervasive sense of wrongness is everywhere, until the cruelty and darkness of the waking world are just a obvious as they are in my dreams. And just as in the dreams, reality starts to fade from my memory and I drift through it like a wraith.

If I can no longer tell when I'm dreaming, it hardly makes a difference. Neither world makes sense; in both, the only thing I can do is try to help where I can, pray to a creator I don't believe in that I'm not making things any worse. And perhaps people smile in a way they think is kind when I do something strange because my mind can't quite accept that a world this dark is not the dream world--fine. I will do my best to help all the same, come hell. 

Sometimes I dream of something so bright it hurts to look at, and I wake up with an ache in my heart as I realize that even at its kindest this world can never be so kind, nor so beautiful at its most beautiful. Now and again the dreams remind me that for all the darkness of my dreams, at least when I awake they are gone.

But today I woke up weeping at a dream so beautiful all I can remember is how overwhelming it all was, but something felt different. I felt confident and powerful, like I could bend the gossamer fabric of this dreamlike world to my whim. I can build that brighter future. Today I am lucid for what may be the first time.

waiting, pt. ii

The thing I hate most about the empire is how terrified they all are of the forest. Even here in the heartland, where they've tamed every wild thing, when I tell my friends we should celebrate midwinter properly, they shy away, make excuses. I can see the fear in their eyes, though: they're afraid we'll attract spirits. And I know enough about the heartlanders to know I can't just take them by the shoulders and look them in the eyes and say, "That's the point."

So I'm here alone. It's cold, and even the winter coats they wear in the capital aren't warm enough against a proper winter's chill, but the fire burns hot and nobody seems to mind if I still use blankets from home, so I have them wrapped around me like a cloak as I sit, facing the flame, watching the gibbous moon rising above the clearing. It's cold enough it has a halo, bright enough I think I could navigate the forest by its light alone. The perfect night for awakening the old sparks of wilderness the empire had tried to bury.

I make offerings: wine from my home, some of the hard bread and stale cheese I packed for the journey, a song I heard in the market, a thin trickle of blood from my forearm. I imagine my friends joining the song, dancing with them around the fire--a celebration, a welcoming. But they are safe in their beds, resting well. They will never hear footsteps crunching in the snow behind them, or the crackling and roar of the fire as it flickers and flares in the fitful breeze, just as the forest will never hear the music of our mingled voices as we keep ourselves entertained waiting for dawn to break at the end of the longest night of the year.

When I feel myself beginning to nod off I curl up in my tent, and let the sounds of the winter forest lull me to sleep, each rustling sound or odd footstep a promise, a potential, a hope, that maybe something wild has been waiting all this time for someone to bring the spark it needs to grow bright and strong. And when it does--if it does--it will find me waiting for it, ready to welcome it, to help bring the wild spaces back to this dying land.

waiting, pt. i

The storms came almost immediately after we'd escaped the capital, bringing snows so bad that even the princess, equal parts furious and desperate, finally agreed to take shelter in the manor of one of her staunchest supporters. And so we found ourselves watching the world disappear under a thick white blanket of powder. So recently I had been admiring the turning leaves, smiling as they danced in the winds, pulling my coat tight against the autumn rains of the heartland. Now it was almost hard to remember what the world looked like before, or even imagine what it would look like in the spring.

If there is one thing that is true about the princess, it's that she deeply hates those rare times when she is not in perfect control. The loss of the capital was bad enough; now even the weather had turned against her. She could not raise an army to take back her throne from this sad snowbound mansion; she could not even begin contacting allies to begin formulating a plan or even to see just what resources she had available with which to plan. All she could do was wait.

How dearly she must have wished that her sole companion was anyone besides me--the oft-cursed Drysi she could have at least enjoyed bickering with; my sister, a tactician par excellence, could have devised schemes and stratagems; her beloved Morgana could have offered her some comfort, had she not been left behind in order that we could escape. I was none of these things; all I could offer was calm, and that seeming indifference was far from comforting.

"We are trapped here with no resources at our disposal when the entire commonwealth is about to descend into open war," she said at last, when pacing and muttering did not improve her mood.

"We are, indeed," I said.

"Why, then, are you sitting there with your feet up and watching the snow accumulate--the very snow, I should add, that is preventing us from taking action?"

"All of that will still be true when the snow melts. Besides," and here I offered a smirk that, if her scowl was any indication, she did not appreciate in the slightest, "it's pretty."

"Aren't you worried? The two of us can't fight a war. We barely even escaped the city."

I shrugged. "I expect we've got most of the winter to worry about it. Taking an evening off won't hurt."

And what a long winter it was. The storms never relented, and we spent months in that manor, rationing out supplies because we didn't know how long we'd be trapped there. It was almost exciting, at first--it snowed so rarely in the capital--but it became tedious before too long. We had nothing to do except wait, worsened by the fact that our reward at the end of all that waiting was only disaster.

But, even if neither of us would have chosen the other as our snowbound companion, if we had to weather this storm, and wait for whatever hell would come with the arrival of spring, at least we had someone to share those moments with. And I think there are very few souls throughout history who can claim to have convinced the Princess of Elouan to make snow angels with them.

"You were right," she said. "If we must wait for disaster to come, we might as well enjoy the time we spend waiting."

media list for the year of our lord 2020

There's an old post with most of this information contained therein, but I haven't updated it recently and there's enough new stuff that I figured I'd just add a new post for it. So, here it is! The more-or-less final 2020 media list from yours truly.

MOVIES (AND TV SHOWS I GUESS?)

PORTRAIT OF A LADY ON FIRE

This was exceptional. Reviews often describe this French historical film as a lesbian deconstruction of the cinematic male gaze, which is extremely reductionist--there is so much more to this movie than simply a commentary on other cinema. It's a touching love story set in 18th century France, and a story of several women who have different ways of coping with what society expects of them. It's quiet and intimate, and so much story told in the way the characters look at or don't look at each other. It is streaming on Hulu and is extremely good.

BIRDS OF PREY

Fun and visually interesting, but I found Harley Quinn's accent irritating and I don't really have the urge to rewatch. Comic book movies aren't usually my thing, though, and I liked this better than most. It was very stylish and gleefully nihilistic, and seemed to at least escape from the endless self-serious grimdarkness of the recent DC cinematic universe.

LITTLE WOMEN

Oddly paced and slightly disjointed. The decision to jump between the "past" and the "present" was odd, the story seemed to pick up with the expectation that we would know what was going on--having not read the book, I did not know what was going on, so it took me a while to catch up. I'm given to understand that even those familiar with the source material occasionally run into this problem of the story being somewhat disjointed. Still, it was a good watch, even if it's probably not on the rewatch list.

I believe it was on Amazon.

SHE-RA AND THE PRINCESSES OF POWER*

This was a rewatch for me (except for the new bits, which were new). This show is delightful and subverts the classic cartoon trope of the clash between the forces of good and evil by actually making actions have consequences--the status quo is not preserved eternally. This show goes places, has good queer representation, and explores some interesting and complicated character dynamics. It's on Netflix. Go watch it.

BAAHUBALI

An epic story from India which feels in many places inspired by the Lord of the Rings movies, featuring over-the-top action stunts, big epic battle scenes, demigod characters, some very silly moments, some very tragic moments. Also quite a bit more blood and gore than LOTR, so heads up on that. This is two movies, each of which is a bit less than three hours, and while it could very easily have fit into a single movie, there's a charm in the odd, meandering pacing. There are some regrettable choices, such as the African-coded army of evil barbarians that invade the kingdom, but overall, very fun. It's on Netflix.

AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER

A good story featuring some interesting characters and surprisingly mature themes mired down by a number of issues. The tone is frequently all over the place; though the show seems at times to be interested in telling a feminist narrative, the female characters frequently feel very stereotyped; and just generally the Nickelodeon goofiness seeps its way into the story and detracts. It's still a good show, and I think I understand why it's so well-regarded, but we watched this right after She-Ra and that contrast really just highlighed all of Avatar's shortcomings. It's on Netflix.

KNIVES OUT

An extremely well-structured and well-crafted whodunit with some strong Columbo vibes. Features several send-ups of murder mystery tropes, some amazing acting from an ensemble cast, and a broad array of awful characters, each awful in their own unique way. Some genuinely good and well-earned twists, some supremely well-timed comic beats, and a compelling and unexpected narrative. Strongly recommend.

It's on Prime.

BROTHERHOOD OF THE WOLF*

A French movie that isn't really sure what it wants to be. Is it a monster horror movie? A whodunnit murder mystery? A political commentary? An action flick? It tries to be all of these and ends up falling short everywhere as a result. Also features a great deal of yikes around a Native American character and its general treatment of female characters. The worst part is there are seeds of something cool and interesting here, but its lack of focus means that none of these have time to breathe.

There is some very solid costuming, and this movie is the clear stylistic inspiration for the game Bloodborne (down to the impractical transforming sword-whip-stick). Not the worst possible use of your time but if you looked at the costuming in promo images and thought "oh, this looks cool," maybe give it a miss.

SCOTT PILGRIM VS THE WORLD*

This film adaptation of a comic is possibly the only film adaptation of a comic that manages to feel like a comic book. The editing in this movie is phenomenal; director Edgar Wright is a master of visual storytelling and his style really shines here. It's the story of Scott Pilgrim, fuckboi extraordinaire, and his journey to become less of a garbage person. There are some jokes that aged rather poorly, but by and large the movie is not sympathetic to its characters when they are being bad people.

Overall, this movie is still very fun, and if you like movies that do something interesting with the medium of film, this is a rare example of a comedy that fits the bill.

THE SADDEST MUSIC IN THE WORLD*

A satirical film about a competition held in Depression-era Winnipeg to see which country's music was the saddest, with a cash prize on the end. A black comedy with a melodrama at its heart, it satirizes American cultural imperialism as it pilfers other cultures for superficial elements and discards what makes them interesting, as well as the commodification of grief, loss, and sorrow. 

This is one of my favorite movies but it's hard to describe; Guy Maddin is a very distinctive director and his movies definitely fall on the weirder side. A lot of what makes this movie works is the small elements--the way the announcers gleefully commentate on performances of various cultures' mourning rituals; the way the music they are performing is punctuated by loud, tournament-style buzzers; the various odd visual elements scattered throughout. It comes together to make a story which is memorable, funny, sad, and incisive.

THE EXPANSE

There are parts of this show I really love. Many of its characters are fascinating, and it mostly does a good job making the geopolitical elements feel very grounded, with actions having repercussions that spread throughout the solar system. But a couple of the characters are just . . . obnoxious isn't quite the word. They drag the whole down with them. The problem is one of them is the protagonist. (Spoilers follow, I guess.)

James Holden reads like a video game protagonist in all the worst ways. He has a background that should make him an interesting character (raised by a commune of extremist libertarians on an Earth which is ruled by a single government), but he ends up being extremely bland. He's unreasonable, but not in a way which adds depth to the character, he quickly becomes Extremely Special despite having no particular talents of his own (he is briefly shown being charismatic in episode one but never again). It would be forgivable if he were clearly intended to be unlikable, but he seems to inspire a deep loyalty in the crew, which is baffling and frequently feels out of character for them.

But when the characters are good, they're so good. They are fascinating and unexpected. They interact with each other in interesting ways, and they're understandable enough that you can guess how they might interact or what they might do in a situation but not so simple that they can't surprise you--and when they do surprise you, it doesn't feel like breaking character.

The plots themselves are mostly in the range of good to decent. Occasionally they suffer from the problem of "this thing needs to happen for the plot to happen", universally to its detriment. The stories are at their best when they are grounded portrayals of people reacting to events or acting upon events; when something happens just to kick up the melodrama it always feels cheap.

It also has an unfortunate tendency of portraying the oppressed Belters (people who were born and raised in the asteroid belt or on one of the moons of the system's gas giants) as being extremely violent, almost by nature; the narrative wants us to sympathize with their plight but it sabotages itself here as it attempts to justify their oppression.

I enjoyed the Expanse and will probably continue watching it as more seasons come out, but it could be so much better.

THE BREADWINNER

A sad and lovely story about an Afghani family in the days after the rise of the Taliban, focusing on a young girl, Parvana, as she disguises herself as a boy in order to make money to feed her family. Created by Irish animation studio Cartoon Saloon, the visuals in this are lovely, and though the story is full of little tragedies, there is a strong theme of the power of story to soothe and to give us hope. This movie is full of beautiful little moments, each worth discovering. It's available on Netflix.

THE LEGEND OF KORRA

A follow-up to Avatar: The Last Airbender, now available on Netflix.

This show is better than the original in most respects. The characters are considerably more interesting and dynamic; Bolin, the character filling the role of Comic Relief Guy, is infinitely less obnoxious than Sokka; Korra, the protagonist, has agency and makes decisions that drive the plot; and there are far fewer episodes and scenes where the mere act of excising them would improve the series dramatically. Avatar was a garden full of weeds; Korra is a garden that has not finished growing.

Korra as a show is bursting with potential, with fascinating characters interacting in a world which feels like a believable followup to the original series (though the future Korra imagines is a much more Western-inspired world than that of Avatar, and the show itself feels a lot whiter than the original, both of which feel like a failure of imagination here). Even the side characters have good, believable characterization, and even the badly executed love triangle plot of the first two seasons is at least in direct service to the protagonist's story. All of the villains (with the possible exception of the villain from season two) have believable, understandable motives, twisted though they are to make sure we know they're the bad guys. And the show tackles the themes that were hinted at but seldom fully explored in Avatar, of fascism and inequality and corrupt power structures.

Which makes it all the more disappointing when it fails to deliver on that potential. Each season's climaxes routinely favor spectacle over meaningful impact; and because each season has its own story arc, there is less of an overall arc for the show to follow, which is fine, but it makes the overall show less impressive. (I expect they did this because they weren't sure, on making each season, if there would be a followup, but I haven't looked into it.) The worldbuilding is a lot more willing to just trust the audience to buy that, yes, some weird bullshit is happening right now, deal with it. My biggest problems with Korra were those moments when you could see the show it could have been, but, for whatever reason, fell short.

(That is strictly speaking a lie. My biggest problem with Korra is Meelo. Meelo was awful.)

I enjoyed Korra. I'd watch it again without feeling the urge to skip episodes (or entire seasons), which is more than I can say about Avatar. Rather than being bogged down in detritus, it felt like a show that could have achieved great things, but was, for whatever reason, held back.

KIPO AND THE AGE OF WONDERBEASTS

I ignored this show for a while because Netflix gave it the "goofy" tag, which, coming off of Avatar, is a word I wanted to avoid. I'm very glad we decided to watch this despite that initial concern.

I'll start by saying that it's a three-season contained story, and all three seasons are out. You can watch it and know that it will have an end and get where it's going. In this fallen age of sequels and reboots, a concise self-contained story is a breath of fresh air.

But beyond that, it's just . . . good. It's a post-apocalyptic story where humans mostly live in underground burrows and mutated talking animals ("mutes") live on the surface. That description didn't really hook me at first, so let me delve into that. The mutes have all formed various gangs, and as is tradition in post-apocalyptic story, the gangs are territorial at best, and openly hostile at worst. It's an unfriendly world out there; as if the rival gangs weren't enough, it's also full of dangerous flora and fauna to worry about. Kipo is a human from one of the burrows, stranded on the surface and looking for a way home, and she is just so fucking optimistic.

There is a lot of charm in the worldbuilding here, but what sold this show for me, I think, is that this is a hopeful story. Kipo starts making friends and trying to help people and make peace almost right away. Her optimism and good nature spreads through the surface like a particularly beneficent wildfire. But the show also doesn't shy away from portraying the actions of its villains as bad, or from showing that you can't make friends with everyone, or that not all villains can be redeemed.

It also has a wonderful cast of characters, a truly amazing soundtrack, excellent representation, and some strong emotional moments. There is no filler here: everything exists in service to the plot or the characters. Highly recommended.

OVER THE GARDEN WALL

A comic, dreamlike spooky cartoon Halloween story with a beefy voice-acting budget. Has some funny moments and some humor that ranges from charmingly absurd to perhaps a little too random. OTGW is a good watch, but its strengths are in its episodic nature; it's short, but I think it's stronger if you watch them over time rather than binging through them. The overarcing plot is light and I think it's stronger if it's not as fresh in the memory. Overall it is very charming and I'd be willing to revisit it for Halloween but overall it doesn't feel like it will have staying power for me.

SPEED RACER

What an odd movie. The Wachowski sisters wanted to make a film that didn't feel constrained by realism and traditional film conventions, and they sure did deliver. Probably a love letter to the anime I never watched, Speed Racer takes place in a universe where racing is comically deadly, absurdly popular, and is also the most important thing in the world. Races are fixed to allow the elite to make money on the stock market, and the big sponsors attempt to crush racers who don't sign on. The tone is wildly inconsistent, the comic relief characters are pretty grating, and there is way too much going on to describe this as a cohesive work, but this movie is worth watching for the cinematography alone. 

REDLINE

A 2009 sci-fi racing anime directed by Takeshi Koike, Redline is . . . just kind of wild. The narrative is conventional enough: racer who just wants to drive and is also extremely reckless is put at risk by a mafia race fixing scheme, also has a love interest who is a racer. But the famous Redline race is taking place on Roboworld, a fascist dictatorship which has sworn that it will kill any Redline-affiliated racers who arrive on the world, so the race is also a big ol' fight scene. There are kaiju and hyperdisintegration cannons, a planet of magic-using princesses, lots of interesting alien designs . . . it's a lot. The art is beautiful, the action and race sequences are well-done, and everything feels very visceral. There isn't a lot of direct worldbuilding but it feels very lively and varied; you can easily imagine a lot of different stories taking place in this universe.

If watching a wild-as-fuck racing anime with a surprisingly lucid narrative sounds like your idea of a good time, you might as well take a look.

GRAVITY FALLS

A Disney animation about Gravity Falls, a small town in rural Oregon where weird things happen; 12-year old twins Dipper and Mabel are visiting for the summer and investigate the town's mysteries while engaging in summer hijinx. There are two seasons, each at twenty episodes each.

I mention the two seasons because season one is a very episodic, monster-of-the-week show, while season two has a focused narrative. It feels like season one was trying to lay out a lot of the groundwork for season two's focus on the story, rather than it being a shift in direction as the series progressed, but, like . . . season two is great, and season one could be really hit or miss. The show would have benefitted greatly from more direction early on.

Which isn't even to say season one was bad; it just has all of this potential that seems to go untapped until season two, when the show really delivers, and transforming from a "sure, watch it if you've got nothing on your list" to a solid "this show is worth checking out". (Season one also has a few ongoing story threads that will be less frustrating on a second watch, I think.)

I feel like I'm not saying enough about what I enjoyed here, so: the characters are all fun and unique and memorable. The easy litmus test for a show with good characters is to try imagining what they would do in a certain situation, and it's very easy to imagine what this show's cast would do. There are a few character dynamics I'm not fond of but when they work, they really work. There is a lot of attention to detail, and things which come up later are usually fairly well foreshadowed. And it strikes a great balance between zany adventure and a sense of wonder and mystery and exploration.

There weren't many magical adventures when my sister and I went to the little cabin in the woods we used to go to when we were young, but exploring those pine forests sometimes really did feel magical.

A WHISKER AWAY

We watched this Netflix original anime on a whim because it looked cute. It's a story about a girl who has accepted a magical mask from a deeply sinister feline cat salesman which allows her to transform into a cat, so she can stalk her crush. She's pretty creepy for most of the story but you come to understand her as a character she gets . . . less creepy (still kind of creepy). For as bizarre and occasionally creepy as it is, it's a sweet story, and the backgrounds and art are absolutely gorgeous.

Worth noting, if this bothers you as much as it does me: the English subtitles did not match the English audio track, so if you want subtitles I recommend the Japanese audio. (I expect the English subs were written to accompany the Japanese audio rather than as subtitles for the English dub.)

GAMES

ANIMAL CROSSING: NEW HORIZONS

I don't know if I would have picked this game up if it weren't for the quarantine. This has become a cultural touchstone for certain parts of the internet. It's pure escapism: move to a deserted island, clean it up, decorate it, make it yours. The game progresses in real time--if you start a construction project on Tuesday in the real world and they say it will be done tomorrow, it will be done on Wednesday in the real world. You can time travel using your system clock if you want--many people do--or you can just let the game happen at its own pace. It's very relaxing, and I personally really enjoy watching the island slowly develop as time goes by. (My current project is breeding flowers, which can take weeks of real time. It's nice to have a little something to do when I wake up every day.)

PERSONA 5 ROYAL

An expanded remake of 2016's Persona 5, which was itself fantastic, P5R adds some new characters, some new content, some quality of life improvements, and some gameplay tweaks. If you're unfamiliar, the game combines visual novel segments, where you live out your life as a high schooler, hanging out with friends, working part-time jobs, studying for classes, and dungeon crawling, where the dungeons are the metadimensional manifestation of the twisted cognitions of the corrupt adults who hold the reins of society. It offers a much more interesting experience than your traditional JRPG (both in combat and during dungeon exploration), and the game is incredibly stylish and has a killer soundtrack. It is a very long game, clocking in at over 100 hours, which is a lot of time to invest, but it's worth it.

There are some pacing issues in the story, including a very, very long cutscene explaining a plot twist, but with a game as long as it is that's to be expected. You probably won't be doing nothing but playing this game for two weeks straight (well, under normal circumstances), so you might be playing it over the course of several weeks or months, and the story is structured like that, expecting that you might forget or otherwise miss some points from earlier. But it's an amazing experience and worth checking out.

TANGLEDEEP

I love this game. It's a roguelike dungeon crawler which takes direct inspiration from the classic roguelikes (Nethack, ADOM, Angband, etc.), but with modern sensibilities and a 16-bit aesthetic. It features a cool red-haired lady protagonist (shout out to the angry Steam reviewers who are mad about being "forced" to play as a female character), an interesting (if sparse) story, and is a refreshing change from the grimdark aesthetic that many roguelikes are fond of.

One of the things I like about the game is that it is difficult without relying on randomness. Supplies are plentiful--you will never die because you ran out of healing items. It also adds roguelite elements without making them required--you can easily beat the game on a fresh save file without needing too much skill, if you wanted. The roguelite elements can make the game easier but are not required, so if you find yourself grinding them it will be because you want to, not because it's required in order to progress. 

There is a New Game+ after you clear it if you want to try out your build on harder enemies, or you can start over and test out a new character build, so there's plenty of replayability. This is everything I wanted in a roguelike. It's chill and charming and has a mood that's less "YOU DIED" and more "let's go explore some mysteries!"

THE LEGEND OF ZELDA: THE WIND WAKER HD

I had never actually finished this game before, believe it or not, though I'd started a few files. (I have a tendency, when I sense the end of a game is coming up, to put off finishing it because I don't really want it to end.) This is the Wii U remake of the original, which has some quality of life changes over the original and is widely regarded as an overall improvement on what was generally regarded as a very good game. It holds up pretty well! There's still some jank to the controls, but it's pretty good. The Wii U gamepad can be used to display your map, so you can navigate without pausing to bring up the map or relying on a small minimap; you can also hot-swap items from the gamepad. (Seriously, having a second screen to play games on is a huge QoL improvement. It's a shame the gamepad is massive and hurts to hold after a while.)

The Great Sea is fun to explore; the dungeons are mostly pretty easy, though the last few have some clever puzzles. Nintendo often struggles with hint placement; I often encountered hints that I didn't particularly want or need, and on a few occasions didn't get a hint when I really felt like one would have saved me a bunch of time. Overall a solid experience, with a lovely art style and a nice maritime adventure feel.

HYRULE WARRIORS

It's Dynasty Warriors, but Zelda. You beat up armies of faceless mooks and capture bases and outposts in a semi-strategic fashion, but you're Zelda characters. It's fun, it's not quite mindless (but pretty close); there is a fair bit of grinding if you want to do more than clear the story, but if you enjoy the core gameplay it's not too bad.

JET LANCER

Everyone compares this game to Luftrausers, but that game didn't work on my computer so I'm going to compare it to Asteroids, but with gravity. You're a futuristic mercenary jet pilot (I hesitate to say you are an anime jet pilot, but you are very close to being an anime jet pilot) and you are fighting other mercenary jet pilots, along with some boats and submarines and gun platforms and the occasional robot. It's got customizable loadouts and fast-paced action and various objectives and lots of accessibility options and a customizable control scheme, and it's lots of fun. Go check it out.

MONSTER HUNTER WORLD: ICEBORNE*

Monster Hunter is exactly what it says on the tin: it is a game where you hunt monsters, carve bits off them, and use those bits to make more powerful gear so you can fight more powerful monsters. It's a simple but effective loop. The game is all about learning a monster's patterns so you can understand when and where it's safe to attack, and unlike many RPGs it matters which part of the monster you hit, creating a risk-reward system where your best damage is often done by standing close to the part of the monster most likely to ruin your Christmas.

Despite being the least obtuse game in the series, Monster Hunter World is still hella obtuse, and is best enjoyed with a friend who knows the ropes, and preferably by watching some Youtube tutorials about your favorite weapons and possibly some of the mechanics. The initial learning curve is steep and many of the mechanics are not documented at all so you can uncover new ones literal years after you started playing, but once you're past that initial curve it's pretty smooth sailing.

PERSONA 4 GOLDEN

Persona 4 didn't get its hooks in me in the same way Persona 5 did. While I enjoyed it overall, the alchemy that made Persona 5 work just isn't quite there. It has strong themes (identity and the truth), an interesting narrative (a small-town supernatural murder mystery) that builds well on itself, and a mostly pretty solid cast of characters, but the combination of those elements doesn't feel as compelling. The dungeon crawling element also leaves a fair bit to be desired; the actual act of exploring the dungeons is not particularly interesting, and the combat, while more interesting than traditional JRPG fare, is not as dynamic as in Persona 5. And while the mystery is good and the story rewards you for paying attention, overall the pacing of P4 feels sluggish, often leaving you waiting around for the next plot element.

It's also dragged down by several problematic elements, some of which were at the initial time of release (2008) probably progressive-for-its-time-and-place portrayals of sexuality and gender, and some of which were just . . . not great. At its best, Persona 4 is about coming to accept yourself, even the parts society doesn't find acceptable; at its worst, it suggests that being true to yourself means simply accepting your place in society, and casually pokes fun at marginalized groups.

For all that, if you enjoyed Persona 5 or are curious about the series, this is worth picking up. (I'd recommend playing it before P5 if you plan on playing both; you will absolutely feel the lack of QOL improvements otherwise.)

Persona 4 Golden is now available on Steam.

HYRULE WARRIORS: AGE OF CALAMITY

A Dynasty Warriors-styled quasi-prequel to Zelda: Breath of the Wild, set during the time of the Calamity that led to the post-apocalyptic setting of that game. 

The spoiler-free thoughts: it's probably one of the best of the Warriors games I've played, both in terms of story and in terms of gameplay. It's well-balanced, does a good job of capturing a lot of the feeling of Breath of the Wild, and makes each character feel unique. Combat flows nicely and you have a lot of options to deal with problems.

Spoiler thoughts (including spoilers for the whole game including the ending, you've been warned), mostly concerning the story:

This game is, I think, a victim of hype. People were saying it was an "official prequel" and "it's canon", which, combined with the fact that it's a "prequel", led people to assume that this game was going to simply be a recreation of the fall of Hyrule that led up to the events of Breath of the Wild, and it's not that.

(We'll save rants on "canon" for another time, and just leave it at this: canon is a meaningless concept.)

So, taken on its own merits, the story is actually pretty good. It's the story of Princess Zelda and her quest to avert the apocalypse with the aid of a fairly inobtrustive time-traveling robot from the future. (The time travel itself is fairly inobtrusive; they don't harp on it much, and while it is instrumental in the story deviating from the expected course of events, it's not, like . . . a big deal.) She struggles against impossible odds, loses heart when things seem hopeless--it's not the most amazing story ever, but it's a story with emotions and structure. It's solid.

And because canon is a meaningless concept, it makes sense that this is the story they went with. It's a conventional heroic narrative structure: the heroes struggle against overwhelming odds and win because of their heart and determination. Video games especially, since the player is on some level a participant in the story, enjoy a conventional narrative structure, because no one wants to feel like they've failed.

But there is so much potential for a beautiful tragedy here, even with the time travel introduced (though I think it would be better served without it). And half the reason it would work so well is because it's a tragedy we expected. Tragedy works when you know that it's happening, when you know that the struggle is doomed, when you can watch our heroes fight valiantly and still fail.

It would work doubly well here since we know that ultimately, however great the cost, the heroes prevail, that Hyrule presses on, that people can rebuild. It could have given us a deeper understanding of what had been lost, of what it had cost to preserve even what little remained, and let us really appreciate the tragedy of the downfall, safe in the knowledge that one day peace could return to Hyrule.

There's so much wasted potential here which exists only in conversation with Breath of the Wild; but because Breath of the Wild exists, we will always be left wondering what could have been if they had been willing to deliver a video game with a downer ending.

BOOKS

THE BROKEN EARTH*

A trilogy of fantasy novels by the excellent NK Jemisin; this series (and Nora herself) made history as the first series ever to win three consecutive Hugo awards. I happened to finish rereading it at around the time George Floyd was murdered, and the Black Lives Matter protests spread throughout the country (and the world), and the timing for that couldn't be better.

The Broken Earth is a series about what happens when the oppressed have finally been pushed too far. It opens with a member of their oppressed underclass triggering a cataclysmic supervolcanic eruption that destroys the empire that rules the world and will almost certainly lead to the extinction of humanity eventually--think thousands or tens of thousands of years of volcanic winter. It is as beautiful as it is brutal, a story about loss and oppression and love, and it is absolutely worth your time.

TERRA IGNOTA

A science fiction series by Ada Palmer, this is an extremely philosophical series, inspired particularly by the philosophers of the 18th century. It leans heavily into an unreliable narrator, and raises questions and discusses philosophical dilemmas without ever feeling didactic. It imagines a future Earth where the nation-state is obsolete, and society is instead governed by a universal alliance of Hives (so named by analogy to the bee, which creates something greater than itself for the collective), which are essentially cultures and sets of laws that members can freely leave and join, bound together by some universal laws.

I cannot stress enough that the beating heart of this series is the philosophical explorations: what does it mean to live in a society? Can we be considered free if we cannot choose which laws to follow? Is utopia possible? Is history decided by the actions of a few great men, or do the events of history derive from systems and movements? And so many more. There are interesting characters, and the plot is engaging (and though I am usually not deeply concerned with spoilers, some of the revelations in the plot are worth preserving the secrecy of), but at its heart it is a story exploring the central conversations of the Enlightenment. It's a series that begs to be discussed. I loved it, but I can imagine people finding it dull or indulgent.

The fourth and final book of this series is due out next year (2021).

IN THE VANISHERS' PALACE

I think this is a novella, or novellette? I'm not really sure what the difference is. It's by Aliette de Bodard, a French-Vietnamese writer, and the high concept is "Beauty and the Beast, but the beast is a dragon and they're lesbians." If that sounds like your jam, it's worth picking up. Writing a review of a shorter work like this is harder for me, since there's less to latch onto; it has some interesting concepts touched upon in its worldbuilding and magic, and a cast of characters that I think would benefit from more time to explore who they are and how they relate to one another. But I enjoyed it, so there's that.

a prelude for december (scenes from an apocalypse, cont'd)

December always makes me think of what it was like being a kid, and how interminable the wait for Christmas seemed. Weeks, months, days--it hardly mattered, it seemed like the day would never come. Now, the months go by so quickly, and December just means the end of the year will be here soon.

And yet, this is only the beginning of winter, and winter always feels like it will last forever. Here in Seattle, the autumn colors are fading, though you can still find the odd bright yellow leaves dancing in the wind; the cold has settled in and isn't going anywhere, and it's important to check the weather before going out because you never know when the rain is going to come and refuse to let up. I think the seemingly endless winters come from the fact that you never really know when it's going to end: some years winter ends early, some years it ends late, and all you can do is count down the weeks and hope that it's not too bad this time around.

The pandemic continues to worsen; the state has issued new restrictions that are too little, too late to stop or even contain this spike, which continues to set records day by day. Downtown feels unchanged after the new restrictions went in place, and they're set to expire before Christmas. It feels inevitable that our numbers in the state and county will reach the atrocious levels they have elsewhere in the country, and unconscionable that our leaders have almost no interest in preventing that.

And the election . . . happened. Biden is the apparent winner, and Trump and the GOP are doing their level best to invalidate the election results. The ongoing coup attempt appears to be petering out but until the electoral college meets the uncertainty remains that enough GOP loyalists will be willing to destroy democracy so they can get four more years in the presidency. Continuing to pretend that this is a democracy rather than an oligarchy with vestigial democratic elements feels extremely silly.

For the new year, for the end of winter, or for the fall of the empire, nothing to do but wait. This month's theme--the final theme of the year, and who knows if I'll keep doing this next year--is waiting.

chaos, pt. i

No one really knew what to do with themselves, after he died. He'd been keeping so many disparate circles together with nothing more than his charisma and his ability to make people feel like they owed him, like they needed him. Then someone put a bullet through his head and it all started to fall apart.

We thought maybe running away would make the chaos go away, but you can't really run from chaos, not when you're part of it. Not even if you thought you'd finally gotten away from all that. The chaos follows, and it's so, so tempting to give in, to let the chaos rule, to ignore everything you know and understand and let it all drift away on a whim. We almost did. Neither of us were trying to be leaders when we finally decided to stand up. We just wanted to calm things down, to let people know they didn't need to keep suffering now he was gone. But they rallied behind us anyway, a rock to shelter behind in a tempest, because what other choice did they have? Keep on drifting aimlessly?

So we helped where we could, we tried to give people some solid ground to stand on, and I tried my level best not to cringe every time someone said "we owe you one" or something like it. Maybe that's how he got started, forever ago: standing steady in a storm and people just flocked to him. Maybe he really did want to help at first, and then it was just so easy, once he'd built something, to just keep collecting people who owed him, who needed him. Maybe at some point he forgot that this all started because he had the chance to help people.

We disappeared again as soon as the chaos settled down, went back to laying low, trying to stay out of sight. Some part of me worried that we'd just leave more chaos in our wake once we were gone, but people aren't so bad at dealing with chaos if they have a rock to stand on. They'd be fine. I had to believe that.

a prelude for november (scenes from an apocalypse, cont'd)

November is an odd month. Some years it's a herald of winter's impending arrival, and some years it's autumn's last hurrah, with all the crisp days and vivid colors that implies. Some years, I suppose, it's both. I've always thought of it as the start of winter here in the northwest. November is the month when the gloom settles in, if nothing else.

And of course, every two years, the US holds federal elections in November; this year it's a presidential election, and this year pretending that it holds much in common with that tradition is so deeply misguided as to be actively harmful. This year, we're holding our breath wondering how much violence there will be in the streets on election night and the nights that follow. This year, we're wondering if the president, if he loses the election, will concede. We're wondering if the fascist party that supports him will aid him in a coup if he doesn't. We're wondering if the efforts both by officials of the fascist party and by their brownshirt supporters to suppress, steal, or destroy votes will succeed at stealing the election. We're wondering how anyone could have any faith in our electoral process at all. We're wondering how long we're going to have to hold our breath.

My intention to write every day last month fell apart; I moved to a new place, I got sick, and it's so hard to focus these days as the end creeps ever closer. I'll try again this month. There are stories that want telling, after all. It may very well fall apart, however; there is so much uncertainty now, so much chaos. So let's make that our theme for this month. Chaos. Unpredictability. Discord. A word that can hold so much hope and fear all at once.

liminal, pt. 2

When I first started out on the road, I left my name behind. It was practical, at first: my reputation and my past were the first things I wanted to leave behind, and I already stood out enough without everyone being able to put a name to my face. And at first it was nice, being a nameless wanderer, drifting in on the whims of the wind, leaving . . . stories in my wake. I'd wear whatever name suited me at the time: a flower, a season, an aspiration.

I'd still write letters, when I could find the time, when there was someone heading in the right direction--rarer and rarer the further I got from the empire's rotting heart. And the longer I spent nameless, the odder it felt to sign them with my old name. How long had it been since I'd heard my name on someone else's lips, or spoken it aloud? With each false name--snowdrop, willow, hope--I felt that old self slipping away, but there was no new self to take her place. I slipped into some liminal space, my identity ever in flux, solidified only as long as I needed it to.

I'd been adrift for years when I ran into a ghost from my past, at a harvest festival as close as you could get to the edge of the empire, and when she met my eye and whispered my name it nearly broke me. I tried to lose myself in the festivities, in dancing and drink, but the constant shifting of my identity demanded resolution: stand and fight or keep running forever. And I'd promised, when I was too young to understand what it would cost, that I would always stand and fight. 

It was the reminder that, because this ghost from my past promised a return to normalcy, to safety, to complacency, being true to that promise meant betrayal. The trust the powerful offered was a shackle, the same as any other; they did not understand that I had come to break chains, not to forge new ones. I chose a new name, then, the same as I always did, but this one was an anchor, not a shield. A renewal of an old promise, a decision made to stop lingering in the threshold.

liminal, pt. i

I found a spirit in the lowlands outside the capital. She was a tiny wisp, a fragment of a fragment of something great, but she shouldn't have been possible at all. Not there. Of course she couldn't explain how she even existed. (Could you answer that question? I'm not sure I could.) And yet, there she was, in the form of a butterfly, shimmering in the shade.

I was a kid, overwhelmed by being forced into a world I did not understand and a culture I had sworn to destroy. This was . . . probably a few months after I was taken. I was angry and afraid and confused and at that moment, as I dipped my feet in the river and watched the spring leaves dancing in the wind, all of that stopped mattering. Here was something impossible. Here was someone who needed my protection.

"I've never met a human before," she said, while I stared in awe I couldn't have explained if I wanted to. "Are all humans this pretty?"

"Some," I said.

We talked. She was too new, too small, to hold much knowledge or recollection of the world, but there were fragments that suggested memories. She had so many questions about the world, about me, about the empire I'd vowed to topple. I felt, at first, wholly unprepared for something so momentous as educating an impossible spirit in the ways of the world. And then, as I tried to describe the life I'd had among my clan, there was clarity.

I understood, then, why the order that made her impossible needed to fall. It had always been this abstract ill: that I, tattooed like the hunters of old, would hunt that most dangerous of monsters, empire, and that I would stand in its ashes a conquering hero. Now that ambition took on shape and new purpose: it was mine to defend those who could not defend themselves, and so long as the empire stood, I could not stand as a champion of the weak.

I built her a shrine, then, out of fallen branches and flower buds and spring leaves. I promised her I would make the world safe for her; she promised friendship. Our contract sealed, I carved its sigil in the largest branch I'd found, and we both left that place changed.

That marked the beginning, I think, for both of us, as we both found a way to thrive and grow and change in an environment that should have been hostile to us. And one day we would be powerful enough to change the world.

a prelude for october (scenes from an apocalypse, cont'd)

October has arrived at long last. Summer's grip has at long last faded, though at least here in Seattle it still fights to hold on even now; there's a chill in the air and the days are rapidly getting shorter, and the leaves are starting to change. A few early ones have fallen already, and drift through the streets in the breeze. Autumn is here.

It's always tempting to say there's nothing new to report, but it's never really accurate; it's simply that everything awful that's happening becomes a part of the normal backdrop of everyday life. For instance, it wasn't the case a month ago that the president had openly declared that he plans on executing a fascist coup should he lose the election, but is it surprising? It feels almost unremarkable, now: of course he is. That was a threat even back in 2016.

The pandemic continues as it ever has; after a month or two of cases locally declining (albeit slowly), they're on the upswing again, and our officials have long since lost interest in doing anything about that. It's demoralizing, realizing that our leaders have never cared about us, or even just having it confirmed--some part of my little anarchist heart has wanted to believe that in a time of crisis, perhaps our elected officials might get their act together. You have to hope there's hope, right?

This month's theme is "liminal." Spring and autumn are times of transition, and the fall in particular has always been seen as a season of change. There's a certain irony in choosing October for this, of course; here, at least, both September and November are more transitional months here; September is frequently summer's last stand, and November is when winter first has its chance to have its presence felt. October, though, October is when the autumn feels most like itself. When the liminal has a chance to have a character of its own.

I've been working on some short stories recently (if you missed the last one, it's here). Last year for October I wrote something here every day using Inktober prompts; which, while a fun project, would certainly distract from my continued attempts on that front. But I like October, and I liked working on that. So I'm going to try to get some concrete work done on whatever story I'm currently working on every day this month. (But I reserve the right to write some other things if I feel like it, I guess?)

It's not much, but you have to hope there's hope.

revelation, pt. i

 I noticed, after the fire, that we veil our tragedies in euphemisms. After a while I stopped hearing "I'm sorry for your loss" and "I can't imagine what that's like" and "these trying times"--they still used those words, I think, but they stopped feeling like actual language; it was as devoid of meaning as it was of sentiment. Because I realized then, when I saw someone who was supposed to be an authority figure shape their mouth into words that held no semantic value, that they didn't care. That's what the euphemisms are for: they make it palatable not to care.

It should have been devastating to realize that, but I felt suddenly free. I didn't have to perform the dutiful mourner anymore, no more brave smiles or trembling voice. Every last one of those motherfuckers putting an arm on my shoulder and telling me "I'm so sorry for you", I could just ignore them, give them a nice bright smile, and tell them to fuck off.

Can you imagine how much of a relief that is? The revelation that no one has ever cared? That it was all based on your willingness to pretend that you wanted to keep your tragedies obscured just as much as they did?

And eventually they all did fuck off. I was left alone, left to experience grief unshackled by their expectations. I could go out and drive all night and sing and scream until my voice was raw and then sit under the empty sky and just stare. No one was left to care if I was lashing out, if it wasn't appropriate, if I was ignoring my commitments, if I wasn't taking good care of myself.

And do you know, I'd never seen the milky way before? I thought I had, thought it was just some disappointing thing, a neat bit of astronomical trivia, but it's out there, and it's so beautiful. I'd never have even known if I hadn't realized that there's no place for people like me in society.

a prelude for september (scenes from an apocalypse, cont'd)

Ah, September. The month when summer finally loosens its grasp, when the first real taste of autumn shows up in a stiff breeze. It's a month I've always loved, a month I associate with hope and change and freedom. It's hard to feel hopeful right now, but the weather marches on regardless, and so, I suppose, must we all. There are still hot days ahead, but their end is numbered, and even now, as the sun beats down endlessly, you can scent autumn in the air, see it in the leaves.

The world continues as it has: a steady decline from bad to worse. The pandemic is not going away, and our officials are doing nothing to make things better; we remain trapped in the limbo of a partial shutdown, an absolute failure of leadership at all levels. The police continue to perform extrajudicial executions of Black people in the streets; increasingly they are discarding even the pretense that they exist to serve and protect any interest but those of white supremacy and fascism. A white kid shot and killed two protesters in Wisconsin; a fascist was shot and killed in Portland after the police escorted a fascist rally into the heart of the city. The president is still actively attempting to sabotage the election and there is no indication that if he loses he will cede power peacefully. People were passing around tips to bypass the president's electoral sabotage and still pretending we live in a democracy. It is, I suppose, a useful fiction.

I was reminded earlier that the word "apocalypse" refers to a revelation, literally an uncovering or unveiling. I think a lot of people are worried that calling what is happening right now an apocalypse is too dramatic, too hyperbolic, that worse things have happened, but if this year has done anything, it has revealed who we are as a society. Our society has never cared about the lives of its citizens, and has always fought at every turn to make sure that those who need care are not cared for. It is not a revelation to all of us, but now the veil is gone, the mask is off. We can no longer lie to ourselves. The theme for this month is "revelation."

But some good news, at least for me: I have finished a short story for the first time since 2015. It is technically called "Masks" and it is available here. The five years since the last story I finished haven't been entirely barren; a lot of it was spent working on some larger projects, building worlds, trying to figure out narratives. But a good portion of the silence has been the crushing psychological weight of being alive in every year from 2016 onward. The act of writing escapist stories about adventure felt too trivial, and the present felt so awful that writing something set in the future felt like it could only feel cheap in comparison.

It's still hard to put words on paper right now, but I've been working on it. The world of this story has been growing in my brain for years now. It's finally starting to coalesce into something; I've felt drawn to this world for years now, trying to make it work, to understand its metanarrative, and slowly, I think, I'm coming to understand how to explore it.

fragile, pt. i

 Lately I've been thinking about people I haven't quite forgotten, but parts of them are fading away, merging with someone else--a woman whose name might be Sam, a man whose face belongs to someone else, but every time I try to make it resolve into the right one my memory rebels. "That isn't right. You're looking for this other man's face." And it's wrong, it's always wrong, but this person, however often you saw them and interacted with them, have faded away. Memory is fragile like that.

What makes it all the stranger is knowing those memories are still locked away in there, somewhere. Memories never really go away, they just get misfiled; what you're really forgetting is how to access what you need. (And, of course, how every time you access a memory it changes. How fragile even the most indelible memories we have must be.)

And somewhere out there someone right now is struggling to remember my name, or my face, or even why I lingered in their memory, what strange thing has prompted me to resurface in their memories. It takes so little for us to drift apart, and even less for the threads that tie us together, the memory of a shared history, to dissolve, brushed aside like so many cobwebs.

a prelude for august (scenes from an apocalypse, cont'd)

Today it rained. Not the sad sprinkle that happens from time to time in the Seattle summer (though that happened, too), but a real rain, reminiscent of a fall rain. The whole day felt like a promise of autumn: windy, with rain and cloud cover, and cool enough that jackets started coming back out. A refreshing change from the heat, and a rare event this early in August, when summer's grasp on the world is unrelenting.

The pandemic continues. Numbers are stagnating here in the city, downtown has neither increased nor decreased in activity. And with no meaningful change in policy seeming imminent, now more than ever the pandemic feels like it will last forever, the worst of both worlds.

Meanwhile the country continues its descent into fascism, with secret police disappearing protesters and local leaders doing everything except actually stop this sort of behavior. The president has openly declared that he would like to delay the election and has repeatedly refused to publicly state that he will accept the results of the election if he loses. And our local police, of course, continue to brutalize protesters without provocation, escalating tension even further.

The rain today reminded me just how fragile everything is--even that endless, stagnant weather that characterizes summer can vanish in an instant. And though it seemed to offer us a promise of autumn, that promise, too, is fraught with frailty. It could be taken away without warning, without provocation, and the oppressive heat of summer could linger on far longer than this brief glimpse would have us suspect.

This month's theme is "fragile." I wish we weren't all feeling so fragile right now.

stagnation, pt. i

A thick fog settled over the city one night, and didn't lift. It blew in from the ocean, according to those who happened to be awake and watching the ocean at the time. And while the city was no stranger to fog, especially in the winter, it was seldom so thick--when I first walked out, I could not see my companion walking next to me in the mists. Nor did it usually linger; either the winds would drive it out or the sun would burn it off after a few days at most. But linger it did. Days passed, then weeks, and we were starting to wonder if it would be months. The fog had rendered travel all but impossible, closing the ports and the old imperial highways, and the city thrived on trade; and if the fog covered the entirety of the coastal lowlands, as my court scholar insisted, there would be no crops in spring (and, of course, no gardens).

The city--my city--was dying, and all I could do was climb to the top of the tower, where the fog did not reach, and watch. From such heights it was almost beautiful. And, I'm told, the people hidden by that shimmering blanket of clouds found some new sense of normal, navigating the suddenly labyrinthine streets to deliver messages and parcels. The system they had developed, my scholar told me, was actually quite clever. She always did find the wrong things exciting. 

But she was the only one of the court who did not insist that it would clear by spring. And she was the one who spent her days (and her nights; I'm not convinced she ever slept) researching, hoping to understand the fog, to find a way to make it lift, if she could. But until her efforts bore fruit, there were no signs of change, and every day as I watched the fog from the safety of my spire I wondered how long we could last, how long before the stagnation finally claimed us and we were truly, finally, lost in the mists.

a prelude for july (scenes from an apocalypse, cont'd)

The fact that we live in a boring dystopia is nothing new, but it's often not emphasized the extent to which it is, in many ways, more dangerous precisely because it's boring. Washington (among other states) is beginning to reopen, and predictably this has led to an increase in COVID-19 infections; there was no reason for reopening apart from the fact that people are bored, that companies are complaining, that the stagnation felt endless. Boredom is also why people have tuned out of the protests, which are still ongoing; it's why there was wall-to-wall coverage of the autonomous zone in Capitol Hill when it first happened but almost no coverage of noted bootlicker Mayor Jenny Durkan ordering it dismantled. Changes happened, some of them meaningful, some of them insultingly meaningless, and perhaps they will even continue happening.

It's July now. It still feels like June, which is to say it's still cool and cloudy with some periods of sun, some hints at the heat to come, but within the first two weeks of July, summer will come in earnest. The clouds clear, the sun comes out, and nothing changes until September. Sometimes there's smoke, sometimes the days are hotter than others, but the key aspect of summer is that it's endless. A time of stagnation, a time of listlessness, a time where the days stretch on too long. A time when you realize that you are in it for the long haul.

So this month's theme will be stagnation, as we watch our dying empire stagnate and fester, as we watch the heat of the summer settle in and refuse to leave, as we hunker down against the reality that our society is not capable of solving even the simplest of crises. There is no end in sight.

power, pt. i

I used to wonder if she realized, every time we celebrated midsummer, just how powerful she was on that day. She was the sun and the summer, warmth and heat, and I was the winter and the moon and the night. On those longest days when we were young, while I languored in the shade, too lethargic to do anything but watch, as she laughed and danced and lived, I'd wonder if she knew she could reach out and break the world right then if she wanted to. And on that shortest night of the year, when she was spent and the moonlight and the cool ocean breeze stirred me back to something resembling life, when she tried not to fall asleep as we watched the stars and the dancing flames, I would ever find myself wondering how long we could wax and wane in opposition to each other like this.

(You're wondering if I could have done the same when the days were short and the nights seemed endless, but the sun scorches, the moon soothes. My power was different. I don't believe she ever saw it, back then.)

The years passed, our dance continued, and eventually she stopped celebrating the solstice. We had other things on our minds, and a little celebration, even of her favorite time of year, seemed frivolous. But even as the sun and the heat sapped me of energy, sometimes I would still feel her tapping into that power, just for a little bit. Perhaps she couldn't help it.

When we finally parted ways, when I grew weary of the blazing sun, I could still feel her when the days stretched on forever. Lost, seeking, and then, finally, on midsummer years hence, I felt the moment when she reached out and broke the world. And--because our dance was always more than the two of us, because this, I think, was always fated--on that day the sun went into eclipse, as the moon for the briefest of moments blocked out the sun's scorching rays.

For that moment I could tap into her power. For that moment I could heal what she had broken--not everything, but enough. And I wondered if she knew, if she was also thinking of all those times she fell asleep leaning against my shoulder.

I don't know if she could have fought, but she didn't. And I would never know if it is because she did not have the will, or she did not have the power.

a prelude for june (scenes from an apocalypse, cont'd)

June has arrived in Seattle (and presumably in other places, as well). The locals have been known to call this month Juneuary, because it's a month characterized mostly by cloud cover and drizzle. (It's also much warmer than January, but by now we're used to the warmth and the nice weather and the absence of sunlight feels like a betrayal.)

Just when it felt like the pandemic was going to wear on for a changeless eternity, a police officer in Minneapolis murdered a black man by kneeling on his neck until he was dead, while his comrades watched and while the people of the city cried for him to stop. This has sparked a protest movement bigger than I have ever seen, with protests happening in all fifty states and internationally, with police reacting with excessive violence across the country (as they reliably do). This is what it looks like when a people feel that they have nothing left to lose, when the yoke finally is too much. When a society so utterly fails to take care of its people that the only option left to them is to take to the streets, this is what happens.

This month's theme is power. It's always been a fixation of mine in my stories: those who have power, those who have none. The common saying is that power corrupts; an alternative version says that power reveals. That is: if I were to give you unlimited power right now, with no possibility of being held accountable, what would you do with it? "Power corrupts" takes the view that no matter who you are, you would do something awful with it; "power reveals" believes that if you do something awful with your power, it is an indication that you were very likely awful to begin with. Of course, power also self-selects. You don't simply get handed power in our society; you must seek it out, and those who seek power seem to be inclined towards being less than stellar examples of humanity. Whether this is a relic of our society or of human nature is unclear.

I hope everyone is staying safe out there. I hope that we are able to remove power from the police who are abusing it, and that something new and wonderful rises up to replace them. We are standing at a crisis point, and I hope that the people are realizing exactly how powerful they are.

the official rs mason quarantine media list

You all clamored for it, so here it is at last. I have been playing video games and watching things on the internet (frequently with other people, also on the internet) more often than usual during the pandemic, and I finally have started doing a thing I should have been doing with the things I watch and play . . . decades ago, probably: writing them down, along with some thoughts.

I will be updating this list as I add more items to it, so save it to your bookmarks, check it daily, make it a part of your regular routines. It won't update that often but maybe it will help.

So without further ado, please enjoy

The OFFICIAL RS Mason Quarantine Media List!!!!!!

MOVIES (AND TV SHOWS I GUESS?)

PORTRAIT OF A LADY ON FIRE

This was exceptional. Reviews often describe this French historical film as a lesbian deconstruction of the cinematic male gaze, which is extremely reductionist--there is so much more to this movie than simply a commentary on other cinema. It's a touching love story set in 18th century France, and a story of several women who have different ways of coping with what society expects of them. It's quiet and intimate, and so much story told in the way the characters look at or don't look at each other. It is streaming on Hulu and is extremely good.

BIRDS OF PREY

Fun and visually interesting, but I found Harley Quinn's accent irritating and I don't really have the urge to rewatch. Comic book movies aren't usually my thing, though, and I liked this better than most. It was very stylish and gleefully nihilistic, and seemed to at least escape from the endless self-serious grimdarkness of the recent DC cinematic universe.

LITTLE WOMEN

Oddly paced and slightly disjointed. The decision to jump between the "past" and the "present" was odd, the story seemed to pick up with the expectation that we would know what was going on--having not read the book, I did not know what was going on, so it took me a while to catch up. I'm given to understand that even those familiar with the source material occasionally run into this problem of the story being somewhat disjointed. Still, it was a good watch, even if it's probably not on the rewatch list.

I believe it was on Amazon.

SHE-RA AND THE PRINCESSES OF POWER*

This was a rewatch for me (except for the new bits, which were new). This show is delightful and subverts the classic cartoon trope of the clash between the forces of good and evil by actually making actions have consequences--the status quo is not preserved eternally. This show goes places, has good queer representation, and explores some interesting and complicated character dynamics. It's on Netflix. Go watch it.

BAAHUBALI

An epic story from India which feels in many places inspired by the Lord of the Rings movies, featuring over-the-top action stunts, big epic battle scenes, demigod characters, some very silly moments, some very tragic moments. Also quite a bit more blood and gore than LOTR, so heads up on that. This is two movies, each of which is a bit less than three hours, and while it could very easily have fit into a single movie, there's a charm in the odd, meandering pacing. There are some regrettable choices, such as the African-coded army of evil barbarians that invade the kingdom, but overall, very fun. It's on Netflix. (Catch the version in the original Tamil language. I think Netflix has like four different languages on there.)

AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER

A good story featuring some interesting characters and surprisingly mature themes mired down by a number of issues. The tone is frequently all over the place; though the show seems at times to be interested in telling a feminist narrative, the female characters frequently feel very stereotyped; and just generally the Nickelodeon goofiness seeps its way into the story and detracts. It's still a good show, and I think I understand why it's so well-regarded, but we watched this right after She-Ra and that contrast really just highlighed all of Avatar's shortcomings. It's on Netflix.

KNIVES OUT

An extremely well-structured and well-crafted whodunit with some strong Columbo vibes. Features several send-ups of murder mystery tropes, some amazing acting from an ensemble cast, and a broad array of awful characters, each awful in their own unique way. Some genuinely good and well-earned twists, some supremely well-timed comic beats, and a compelling and unexpected narrative. Strongly recommend.

It's on Prime.

GAMES

ANIMAL CROSSING: NEW HORIZONS

I don't know if I would have picked this game up if it weren't for the quarantine. This has become a cultural touchstone for certain parts of the internet. It's pure escapism: move to a deserted island, clean it up, decorate it, make it yours. The game progresses in real time--if you start a construction project on Tuesday in the real world and they say it will be done tomorrow, it will be done on Wednesday in the real world. You can time travel using your system clock if you want--many people do--or you can just let the game happen at its own pace. It's very relaxing, and I personally really enjoy watching the island slowly develop as time goes by. (My current project is breeding flowers, which can take weeks of real time. It's nice to have a little something to do when I wake up every day.) Best enjoyed with some friends who are also playing it.

PERSONA 5 ROYAL

An expanded remake of 2016's Persona 5, which was itself fantastic, P5R adds some new characters, some new content, some quality of life improvements, and some gameplay tweaks. If you're unfamiliar, the game combines visual novel segments, where you live out your life as a high schooler, hanging out with friends, working part-time jobs, studying for classes, and dungeon crawling, where the dungeons are the metadimensional manifestation of the twisted cognitions of the corrupt adults who hold the reins of society. It offers a much more interesting experience than your traditional JRPG (both in combat and during dungeon exploration), and the game is incredibly stylish and has a killer soundtrack. It is a very long game, clocking in at over 100 hours, which is a lot of time to invest, but it's worth it.

There are some pacing issues in the story, including a very, very long cutscene explaining a key plot twist in excruciating detail, but with a game as long as it is that's to be expected. You probably won't be doing nothing but playing this game for two weeks straight (well, under normal circumstances), so you might be playing it over the course of several weeks or months, and the story is structured like that, expecting that you might forget or otherwise miss some points from earlier. But it's an amazing experience and worth checking out.

TANGLEDEEP

I love this game. It's a roguelike dungeon crawler which takes direct inspiration from the classic roguelikes (Nethack, ADOM, Angband, etc.), but with modern sensibilities and a 16-bit aesthetic. It features a cool red-haired lady protagonist (shout out to the angry Steam reviewers who are mad about being "forced" to play as a female character), an interesting (if sparse) story, and is a refreshing change from the grimdark aesthetic that many roguelikes are fond of.

One of the things I like about the game is that it is difficult without relying on randomness. Supplies are plentiful--you will never die because you ran out of healing items. It also adds roguelite elements without making them required--you can easily beat the game on a fresh save file without needing too much skill, if you wanted. The roguelite elements can make the game easier but are not required, so if you find yourself grinding them it will be because you want to, not because it's required in order to progress. 

There is a New Game+ after you clear it if you want to test your build, or you can start over and test out a new character build, so there's plenty of replayability. This is everything I wanted in a roguelike. It's chill and charming and has a mood that's less "YOU DIED" and more "let's go explore some mysteries!"

This is a game I want to write about more. It is good.

THE LEGEND OF ZELDA: THE WIND WAKER HD

I had never actually finished this game before, believe it or not, though I'd started a few files. (I have a tendency, when I sense the end of a game is coming up, to put off finishing it because I don't really want it to end.) This is the Wii U remake of the original, which has some quality of life changes over the original and is widely regarded as an overall improvement on what was generally regarded as a very good game. It holds up pretty well! There's still some jank to the controls, but it's pretty good. The Wii U gamepad can be used to display your map, so you can navigate without pausing to bring up the map or relying on a small minimap; you can also hot-swap items from the gamepad. (Seriously, having a second screen to play games on is a huge QoL improvement. It's a shame the gamepad is massive and hurts to hold after a while.)

The Great Sea is fun to explore; the dungeons are mostly pretty easy, though the last few have some clever puzzles. Nintendo often struggles with hint placement; I often encountered hints that I didn't particularly want or need, and on a few occasions didn't get a hint when I really felt like one would have saved me a bunch of time. Overall a solid experience, with a lovely art style and a nice maritime adventure feel.

HYRULE WARRIORS

It's Dynasty Warriors, but Zelda. You beat up armies of faceless mooks and capture bases and outposts in a semi-strategic fashion, but you're Zelda characters. It's fun, it's not quite mindless (but pretty close); there is a fair bit of grinding if you want to do more than clear the story, but if you enjoy the core gameplay it's not too bad.

JET LANCER

Everyone compares this game to Luftrausers, but that game didn't work on my computer so I'm going to compare it to Asteroids, but with gravity. You're a futuristic mercenary jet pilot (I hesitate to say you are an anime jet pilot, but you are very close to being an anime jet pilot) and you are fighting other mercenary jet pilots, along with some boats and submarines and gun platforms and the occasional robot. It's got customizable loadouts and fast-paced action and various objectives and lots of accessibility options and a customizable control scheme, and it's lots of fun. Go check it out.

MONSTER HUNTER WORLD: ICEBORNE*

Monster Hunter is exactly what it says on the tin: it is a game where you hunt monsters, carve bits off them, and use those bits to make more powerful gear so you can fight more powerful monsters. It's a simple but effective loop. The game is all about learning a monster's patterns so you can understand when and where it's safe to attack, and unlike many RPGs it matters which part of the monster you hit, creating a risk-reward system where your best damage is often done by standing close to the part of the monster most likely to ruin your Christmas.

Despite being the least obtuse game in the series, Monster Hunter World is still hella obtuse, and is best enjoyed with a friend who knows the ropes, and preferably by watching some Youtube tutorials about your favorite weapons and possibly some of the mechanics. The initial learning curve is steep and many of the mechanics are not documented at all so you can uncover new ones literal years after you started playing, but once you're past that initial curve it's pretty smooth sailing.

PERSONA 4 GOLDEN

Persona 4 didn't get its hooks in me in the same way Persona 5 did. While I enjoyed it overall, the alchemy that made Persona 5 work just isn't quite there. It has strong themes (identity and the truth), an interesting narrative (a small-town supernatural murder mystery) that builds well on itself, and a mostly pretty solid cast of characters, but the combination of those elements doesn't feel as compelling. The dungeon crawling element also leaves a fair bit to be desired; the actual act of exploring the dungeons is not particularly interesting, and the combat, while more interesting than traditional JRPG fare, is not as dynamic as in Persona 5. And while the mystery is good and the story rewards you for paying attention, overall the pacing of P4 feels sluggish, often leaving you waiting around for the next plot element.

It's also dragged down by several problematic elements, some of which were at the initial time of release (2008) probably progressive-for-its-time-and-place portrayals of sexuality and gender, and some of which were just . . . not great. At its best, Persona 4 is about coming to accept yourself, even the parts society doesn't find acceptable; at its worst, it suggests that being true to yourself means simply accepting your assigned place in society, and casually pokes fun at marginalized groups.

For all that, if you enjoyed Persona 5 or are curious about the series, it's worth checking out.

Persona 4 Golden is now available on Steam.

awakening, pt. ii

People always talk about time as if it happens slowly, like ten years happens in increments of weeks and days and hours, but it doesn't. You wake up one morning and you realize that ten years have passed, that it's been a decade since you were who you were back then. And, critically, the person back then cannot be considered you in any real meaningful sense of the word--you are not so young, so vibrant, so fucking naive. How could you be?

Remember how you used to find romance in those songs about making a promise to your future self? There was this idea that your future self would find some power in being reminded of a commitment that you had to remain . . . did you even know? Or did you just know that you didn't want to be what you are now?

That's unfair, of course. The worst part isn't knowing that your past self would be disappointed in you today, would play you those old songs and hope that it might stir the part of your soul that was full of whim and wonder. The worst part is not knowing, being so out of touch with who you were before that you don't even know how you would react to seeing yourself now. At least if you were disappointed or angry or bitter you'd provoke a reaction--what if your past self was simply indifferent? And what if it worked? What if you managed to shame yourself into changing into a version of yourself more palatable to that naive fool who thought the world would be softer? Is that not somehow the worst possible outcome?

The world is not the same as it was ten years ago. You do not wear the same shoes or walk the same streets. Just as you cannot imagine the world as it was ten years ago, so back then you could not imagine the world as it is today. And the one thing you can say with certainty, having suddenly awakened to find yourself in this new world, is that ultimately none of this matters. Time makes fools of us all.

awakening, pt. i

The secret is I should have died. I don't remember what happened, only waking up in the dormitories with the sensation of pain, more intense than any I'd yet experienced. And when I opened my eyes she was standing there, silhouetted by the moonlight and yet glowing with her own radiance, her back to me and her arms raised in . . . supplication? But then she turned back to me and I could feel that cool radiance, lessening the pain, making me feel calmer, more at ease. I tried to shape words but the pain spiked and I could only just manage a strangled "What--" before biting back a scream. Somewhere in the darkness I think she smiled sadly. "Rest now. We can talk in the morning."

That night I dreamt I was chasing the moon, but no matter how I tried she always stayed out of reach--it felt like I was close, but how can I compete with the moon? How can anyone?

I was disoriented and confused in the morning and it took a moment to realize the pain had subsided--it was still there, and moving still hurt, but I could move, and even speak. And as I shuffled my way into the corridors, I noticed people whispering about me. I still didn't even know what had happened, until I found her again.

That makes it sound like I found her on accident, but no. What I'd tell myself at the time is that I had fallen in love with her, but really I'd become obsessed with her. When I awoke that night to find her standing watch over me, channeling her light into me, I knew then that I must have narrowly escaped death, and only thanks to her help. That was real magic, something beyond the tricks and trinkets of the court mystics.

I cornered her in an empty corridor and demanded to know what happened. Someone, she said, had infiltrated the academy with the express purpose of ending my life--and when I collapsed on the way to the infirmary, she found me, and healed me. There was no one else there. It was my own stubborn pride that almost killed me--I insisted on walking off under my own power, refused to show any weakness in front of my classmates at the academy. I delayed going to the infirmary until no one would see me, and I nearly died for it. Once she'd finished explaining, she smiled at me--a strange smile, one I have never in the years since then been able to parse--and left.

After that, the entire academy thought I was a legend--survive an assassin's blade and walk around the next day without so much as looking a bit peaky. And all of it could have come crashing down at any time if she decided to reveal my secret. And so the obsession grew, and I dedicated myself to endearing myself to her, to keeping her close and safe so I would never need to worry that one day she might whisper my secret to the wrong ear and destroy the unearned legend I had built myself.

a prelude for may (scenes from a pandemic pt. v)

I always liked May Day. Not just because it's a far truer celebration of the worker than America's half-assed Labor Day, which mostly celebrates office workers with jobs cushy enough to get Labor Day off. May Day is a time for awakening and rebirth, the time when spring is really, truly here, and not as the fragile creature it was through March and most of April. The world is alive. You can do anything. This year, the rebirth we're hoping for, of the society that comes after the pandemic, ideally a society that is a little kinder, a little more just, seems as far away as the bitter cold of winter does on a perfect spring day. It's not impossible to imagine, but it is a difficult memory to conjure.

I keep losing track of time. I haven't missed anything I have scheduled, and I do still have things scheduled, but the days still slip away. Time is social, and the social markers of time are missing, so our minds drift, searching for new anchors to make sense of all of this.

There's a sense of menace creeping into the city. I'm not sure if that's the right word, but every time I go out it seems the number of weird and bad interactions I have with strangers goes up, and a lot of the social norms that were being observed before are starting to break down. In the boring dystopia in which we now live, boredom itself has become dangerous. Boredom and desperation make people make strange decisions.

Part of why I'm falling behind on writing these is, of course, that I'm losing track of time, but I also think I have this need to rise to the occasion, to write something meaningful and relevant, to capture the moment with my words, which is fine, and I think there is a value in that form of chronicle and catharsis, but also it's a trap. Because one the things about living in this pandemic is, yeah, it's tedious. It's boring.

This month's theme is awakening. And I think, when this is over, I'll try to go back and fill out the archives with the stories I missed.

masks, pt. ii

I always thought the conceit of a masquerade, that we are in some way disguising who we are, was absurd. Most people who know me could identify me from the shape of my chin, the color of my eyes, the way I smile or don't smile, my voice, the way I carry myself; at best, it protects us from being identified by strangers. It grants the illusion of anonymity, not anonymity itself. Or perhaps that's the point. Perhaps, so long as the masquerade continues, we have ensured that strangers will remain strangers, that when we stand unmasked in the cold light of morning no one will be look at us and ask "isn't that" or "didn't she". But when the moon is bright and the stars are out the dawn is a distant threat, a phantom to haunt our morning selves. Plenty of time to dance.

Without the benefit of masks, I can always tell you from your sister by the way you carry yourselves: she cannot hide her confidence, her defiance, no matter how she tries. Even when you're pretending that you are her, there's a tentativeness there, like you are afraid that your passing will disturb the tranquility of the world. You are, I have always felt, a creature of silence.

When I saw you, I was certain you were her. You thought it was the mask, I think, that my powers of perceiving you were diminished by your disguise--the way you smirked at me when I called you by her name, playfully chided me for paying so little attention. I wanted to protest, to tell you that I had paid attention to little else this evening, that your dress and your hair and the roses and the mask were so elegant, so beautiful, I could scarcely think about anything else. But I tripped over my tongue and you just laughed and I fell in love all over again.

You asked me to dance. I would have thought that was unthinkable, before, but here you had become someone else entirely. For my entire life until this moment I had been in perfect control of my life, but here you led and I followed, lost and dazed and happier than I had been in countless years. And as the festival wound down and we sat on the roof, we talked, or rather, you talked, and I did my best to listen when all I could think about is the way your lips moved, the way your voice sounded.

I think you were talking about masks. You said something like, "I'm so glad that we sometimes have this chance, to take off the masks and be who we really are." I was too enthralled and had had too much wine for the words to really take root then and there, but the seed was planted. And when dawn finally did come (I didn't realize I had even fallen asleep, but you were still there, your arms around me, watching the sun rise) you seemed different. I could no longer think of you as a tremulous creature hiding in the wake of your sister, and you could finally see through the air I projected of perfect calm and perfect control.

It seemed so wonderful at the time, to be privileged to this secret world. I had forgotten, momentarily, how dangerous the truth can be.

masks, pt. i

One summer when I was a kid, the wildfires drove everyone out of our hometown. It felt so sudden: one day everything was fine, I was out playing in the fields of sagebrush and tumbleweeds with my friends, and then I came home and my father made me put on a mask and my mother thrust a bag of my things into my arms. "We have to leave," she told me, and we did. We drove for what seemed an eternity (all trips last forever when you're a child), stopping at the occasional rest area on the way out.

My memory of the trip, as childhood memories often are, is hazy, a series of images and feelings: everyone wearing masks at the rest area; the sky filled with smoke; a sickly sun shining through the haze; my eyes burning; my parents chastising me when I fidgeted with the mask. We stayed at a motel in a town I don't remember, somewhere that was supposed to be safe from the fires for the time being--I remember that very clearly, my father on the phone with someone, saying in hushed tones, "We're safe here for the time being."

That night when they had both gone to sleep, I stole the room key and went outside without the mask on and just walked around--some foolish gesture of defiance, I suppose, or maybe just restlessness and a longing to still be spending my summer under the sky. I could feel the smoke in the air almost immediately, making my lungs hurt and my breathing shallow.

We drove on from there, further from the smoke, until we stopped seeing people in masks and the sun shone bright and clear, and the confusion and uncertainty faded into a dull tedium. But that sensation of not being able to trust the air stuck with me long after the smoke had cleared.

a prelude for april (scenes from a pandemic pt. iv)

I'm pretty sure I had plans for April's theme, but like so many things this past month, it's gone now. It's cold out there--cold like a normal Seattle winter, which isn't that cold, and is still warm enough that the leaves are starting to come in on the trees and the flowers are in bloom. There are even tulips at the courthouse. Spring is a time of vibrant colors, of life, and that's no less true when there is no one there to witness it. Those tulips still exist even if there aren't many people left at the courthouse, even if the usual spread of office workers eating their lunch on the steps, admiring the fountains and the flower arrangements. The color isn't there for us. So many people will miss the spring, sealed away in their homes--it's a small tragedy in the grand scheme of things, but it is one worth marking.

It's interesting how quickly the city is finding a sense of normal in all of this. In some ways we're still struggling, of course, but in others . . . this is how life is now. It won't last forever, but it could very well last for a very long time, and damned if we aren't determined to find a way to get by, to make it easy, or at least smooth. Within the past week, the data in Washington state has been promising. The growth of the disease seems to no longer be exponential; it's far from over, but it is comforting, at least, to think that all of this is working.

This month's theme is masks. Unlike the indifferent beauty of spring, masks, literal and figurative, are something which exist for us. There are masks which protect, masks which conceal, masks which keep us warm. And on some of them you can doodle a little angry face with a sharpie if you want. I am trying very hard to retain a sense of a schedule right now, but it is proving to be something of a challenge.