Monday, January 21, 2013

Thank you for accusing video games, but your scapegoat is in another castle.

A Splendid Essay Detailing Observations Regarding How the Affects of Video Gaming is not as Detrimental to the Human Psyche as the Human Condition Itself

By Jay Morton



Video games make me better. I have been playing video games for as long as I can remember. I learned my alphabet playing Talking Teacher for the Commodore 64. My parents always seemed to encourage my love of gaming, but were sure to regulate my intake of violent video games, which was easy enough since guns and gore never seemed to interest me as much as blue hedgehogs or chocobos. Over the last five years or so I began to develop a love fighting games. I’m particularly fond of 2D fighters such as Street Fighter, Everything Vs Capcom, Darkstalkers, and the concisely titled Guilty Gear XX Accent Core Plus. These games are not about violence to me, they’re about martial arts. Martial arts were founded on principals of self mastery and discipline. In order to play a fighting game you need to find a character that fits your style of play. Once you’ve settled on a character that feels natural you learn their strengths and weaknesses so you can determine their most effective use. After that you learn how every other character plays so you can develop tactics specifically for countering their techniques. Finally, and most importantly, you learn about your opponent. Fighting games are social games. The best fighting experience is had playing with another person online, or, even better, right beside you. Different people will use the tools at their disposal in unique ways and develop their own style of play that you must then adapt to in order to succeed. There are enormous communities of fans that surround fighting games, with everyone coming together to discuss new strategies and techniques that even the game developers themselves never imagined. Fighting games are games of strategy, cunning, and self-discipline. You can’t get away with angrily button mashing if you’re going against a skilled opponent.

“But you foolish halfwit,” you exclaim excitedly, having believed to have me caught in a trap. “What you’re saying confirms our professional deductions that video games promote violence! Violent games teach people to kill strategically and hurl fire balls or Wolverine at innocent civilians!”

I actually haven’t seen anybody try to toss very sharp Canadians at people as a result of their supposed violent training at the hands of video games, though I imagine that if it were to happen it would have more to do with alcohol than anything else. Video games are just games. Nobody blames Risk or Clue for murder. I could describe the game of Chess in a way very similar to fighting games. Hell, there’s even a Street Fighter chess set. Chess has been teaching people effective battle strategy for hundreds of years. Strategy, cunning, and self-discipline are also valuable life skills that are useful in everyday problem solving. These skills are universal. Most people who read the Art of War are either business men or Batman writers, and not warrior philosophers (unless they are in fact Batman). These skills can also be acquired through action games, RPGs, and even the dreaded first person shooter. In the end, these games are making me a stronger more capable human being, and one who is very entertained and educated through stories of heroes and villains, moral choice, risk, and drama. I learn about who I am through video games. I’m driven to protect who I care about. I prioritize smaller goals that lead up to larger quests. I am a capable leader and follower. I have a desire to develop my skills and abilities through knowledge and assessment. In the radioactive wastelands of Fallout 3 when most people are going around causing everyone grief, I’m handing out bottles of purified water, defending villages, and helping orphaned children find a good home, and I have never once killed a hooker in order to get my money back in a Grand Theft Auto game. If I’m living vicariously through the lives of virtual people, I’m a relatively benevolent person. I consider video games to be the culmination of all art forms including visual art, animation, music, literature, and theater, bound together in a unique form of entertainment that is only complete when the audience takes control and personally unfolds scripted events into a unique experience that can never be duplicated by another person. I understand the benefits of gaming on my psychology, and yet somehow as congress tries to blame the actions of a few damaged people on the art I hold so dear to me I feel personally insulted, and am left to wonder why I take these accusations to heart as if they were aimed at me.

I’m not a big fan of this gun violence/video game violence debate that’s been off and on for a couple decades or so and seems to be brought up every time someone makes a regrettable life decision. Frankly, all of this talk about anger and violence is what’s making me angry and violent. Observation suggests other people are pretty edgy in regards to this subject matter too. Gun owners are sticking to their guns, and gamers are sticking to their lonely basements. Meanwhile, Elvis Presley is off in space shaking his head and Stan Lee is chuckling to himself, “Ah, sounds like my old nemesis Dr. Wertham is up to his old tricks again” as for the umpteenth billionth time widespread media is being blamed for the poor choices of a few damaged people rather than the people who made said bad choices. After all, something had to have been guiding them down the path of evil, and it certainly couldn’t have been neglect, despair, or vengeance, so it must be that blasted skull-stomping deviant Mario corrupting the minds of all those he comes in contact with.

When folks look for behavioral patterns in people who perpetrate mass shootings, the thing that seems to jump out at people with guns blazing and buster swords swinging is the fact that they all play violent video games. This is an example of Occam’s Razor failing humanity’s unending endeavors to understand the world they so elegantly misperceive. The theory of Occam’s Razor states that when presented with multiple possible solutions to a problem, the simplest solution is most often the correct one. You can look it up. I of course learned about it from a series of detective novels about a wizard in Chicago, so it must be true. The point being that if these miscreants perpetrated acts of otherwise senseless and perceivably irrational violence, and they all had video games in their possession, then it must have been the video games that caused them to lash out. There’s a pattern at work, it’s the simplest solution, and it gives people a common foe that’s much easier to understand than the minds and feelings of other human beings. Video games desensitize people to violence, add fuel to the fires of their rage, and make people kill other people for the sport of it. Case closed. At least that’s the argument I’ve been hearing my whole life.

Since I’m writing this article little research aside from personal experience and logic, I can’t really say for sure whether or not frequent exposure to violent images makes people more tolerant of violent images, but let’s say it does, which it probably does. Those are images. Video game graphics are patterns of light playing out on a two-dimensional surface to give the illusion there is a bald space marine being eaten by aliens, or an earthworm parachuting from a booger. It is light and sound simulating patterns of virtual reality and virtual violence. Most people understand that video games are not real and those who do not should be closely monitored for their own safety. Even though people formulate strong personal associations with their in-game avatar and say things like “Oh crap, I died again” when they get shot down rather than “Oh crap, Master Chief died again” I imagine watching light patterns “explode” with a “headshot” and then “respawn” elsewhere on the “map” is a very different experience from actually sharing a room with a fresh corpse, the smell of cordite, the eerie silence following a sudden cacophonous noise, the sudden cries of pure emotion as witnesses cower in fear or are otherwise overcome with grief, and a lifetime of consequences that will follow you for the rest of your life. But pffft what do I know? That’s just baseless conjecture. I just kind of assume the experiences have subtle differences in the way they would affect a person’s psyche. I suppose if people were desensitized to violence the line between reality and fiction would blur.

Desensitization is determined by the lessened impact of external influences and lack of empathy in regards to the emotions of others. It amounts to numbness in extreme cases. Based off of personal observations I’d say that video games desensitize people to video games and very little else. If you sit someone down who is not used to video games and have them play Bomberman Ultra, an oft-times intense E-rated gaming experience about adorable robot arsonists, there’s a good chance they will fly into a state of panic and react to the game almost as if they were literally running around a maze trying desperately not to make a mistake and blow themselves up, while a veteran gamer will probably frolic calmly around the board as they roam around collecting power ups and new costumes that enable them to dress their bomberman like a lucha libre fairy cowboy (unless it’s an eight-player local game, in which case there will likely be lots of jumping around and screaming and nervous animals looking for shelter from the chaos.) I’ve been playing video games for decades, and while I’m used to the sight of polygonal brain matter splashing onto the camera, it doesn’t make me react any less distraught by scenes of real violence, or Alex Murphy being blown to bits by gang bangers prior to his resurrection as Robocop. Growing accustomed to mayhem is something that will be experienced due to prolonged exposure to any game from Madden to Half-Life, but, speaking for myself, that doesn’t take away from the nauseating impact of cruelty and ignorance displayed on the news. Then again, I don’t watch the news very often, and when I do all I see are reports on weather, traffic, and homicide. I will tense my shoulders and audibly growl at the indecency of certain individuals when I overhear reports of violent crimes, while people who are used to having these tales of tragedy on as background noise are at the least not visibly phased. Ironically, one day as I was playing Marvel Vs Capcom 3, my mom walked into the room and watched for a moment before saying, “It just makes me want to hit something” while I looked at her nervously in confusion, since to me MvC3 feels like a rhythm game, such as Dance Dance Revolution with its emphasis on memorizing button patterns and keeping a steady rhythm, crossed with hacky-sack. In the mere seconds after she entered the room it appeared to be somehow demoralizing her and she needed to be medicated, but I kept quietly to myself and kept an eye out for strange behavior (Of which there was none more so than usual.) I don’t know if it was the visual depiction of graphic man-juggling that prompted this reaction or her preconceived notions of what violent games represent, but there was clearly a difference in how we perceived what was happening on the screen. All I can get from this is that the news has desensitized my mother to news, to which I form a much stronger reaction; and that I may be desensitized to video games, to which my mother reacts as if there really is a man with a bionic arm bouncing a giant floating head off of the walls. I’m not going to suggest censoring the news any more than I would suggest censoring video games more than they have been. I think the media has suffered enough indignities. I don’t know how someone would get clear concise data on the subject of desensitization, but I think they study would need to be conducted using people of all nations, creeds, and ages over a lifetime to really get a sense that nobody understands how people work.

But, let’s say years of fragging strangers over the internet does make the impact of actual, y’know, DEATH so tolerable that looking at a fresh bloody body slide down the wall leaving a trail of blood is about as mundane as C-SPAN. Does desensitizing people to violence make them more violent? People need a little more of a push than frankly not giving a damn to commit murder. As any procedural crime drama will tell you, it takes motive.

Anger is a great motivator, and video games do make people angry. Ask anyone who has played God of War and they will tell you in the utmost detail how much they wanted to destroy the entire world as they tried to climb out of Hades for the thirtieth time only to get poked in the ankle and sent back to start. Play Sonic The Hedgehog (2006) without showing signs of aggression or mentally swearing. I dare you. Red ring of death? Campers? &#^@ #%@&ing MARIO PARTY? There is no end to the frustrations and disappointments gamers face. It’s enough to make people swear a cuss and throw a controller. Hundreds of studies have been done to analyze how video games increase aggression, but no conclusions have been reached regarding the connection between video games and the long term behavioral patterns that lead to stupid decisions and violence. In fact, the most one can conclude from these studies is that video games make the people who play them experience emotions in the same way any other stimuli would make them react. Playing a video game that places the player in a tense situation makes them as anxious as if they were placed in a tense situation. Cooperative games inspire cooperation, while competitive games make people competitive. Studies have been done that show people will have the subject of the video game on their mind after they have played a particular type of video game (Schutte, N. S., Malouff, J. M., Post-Gorden, J. C. and Rodasta, A. L. (1988), Effects of Playing Videogames on Children's Aggressive and Other Behaviors. Journal of Applied Social Psychology, 18: 454–460.) If people play games with guns, they may have guns on their mind afterwards. If people hear the word “cupcake,“ they may picture a cupcake and slowly begin to crave sweets. If a new Spider-Man movie comes out, I will probably re-read my entire comic book collection. If I watch Argo, I may start wishing Ben Afleck would spend a lot more time behind the camera than in front of it. Most of everyday advertising is about exposing the consumer to stimuli so they’ll be thinking about it and potentially becomes a customer through subconscious manipulation. Believe me, pop-up ads inspire more violent tendencies than video games.

People react to things. Little do people know that emotional reactions are not experienced exclusively by gamers. In fact it may surprise you to learn that just about anyone can experience them. It’s a thing that happens. Anger in particular is among the emotions many people will face over the course of their lifetime regardless of their hobbies. If the team you’re rooting for is in the lead by two points and is thirteen seconds away from the Super Bowl, and suddenly the opposing team scores a field goal, depending on your degree of investment your reaction may range from knocking over your nachos in a fit of rage to forming an angry mob and starting a riot. Parking tickets suck. Bossy supervisors and naggy coworkers are a pain. Having your laptop crash one paragraph away from the completion of your college thesis could be stress inducing. Finding your husband cheating on you with your twin sister after your father’s funeral may cause some internal discord. The list goes on. Things happen. Things build up. Considering how many emotionally scarring events happen on a day-to-day basis, if video games were a bigger threat to humanity than everything-else-ever, then based on the millions of violent video games that are sold daily, shouldn’t there be more video game related crimes as a result? Why aren’t there Pokemon themed costumed super villains running around wanting to be the very worst like no one ever was? How many times has someone snuck into a pet shop in a cardboard box and started eating all of the snakes? As of September 2011 over 22 million copies of Grand Theft Auto IV (www.vgsales.wikia.com/Grand_Theft_Auto) were sold, and so every single one of those people should be serial carjackers leaving a trail of pedestrian paste behind them, right? If I walk around with a pebble in my shoe, as my discomfort persists over the course of the day my patience, tolerance, and disposition may begin to fade and my language and actions may be affected as a result. That doesn’t mean I’m going to start blowing people up.

Even the average homicidal jerk doesn’t just kill for the hell of it. Everyone gets so focused on the latest massacre that they seem to ignore the countless heinous crimes committed every day that have nothing to do with video games whatsoever. Crimes fueled by vengeance or greed. Reality shapes people far more than virtual reality. There are more factors in life that make people who they are than video games (unless you play World of Warcraft or League of Legends, in which case I can be fairly certain you’re too preoccupied with nerddom to cause any major harm to humanity.) If people want to understand what makes people tick I would recommend analyzing actual people rather than the media they consume.

I could get offended. I could get angry. I could think about hurting someone. Then I have the choice to follow through with acting upon those thoughts and feelings or channeling those emotions into something more productive, like writing a blog, snuggling kittens, or strapping action figures to rockets. Even if video games desensitized you to violence and sparked an irrational anger in your lizard-like Hulk brain, there is a choice that must be made before harm is done unto others, whether that decision is made consciously or subconsciously. People who let their emotions get the better of them without thinking things through, people who have no alternative outlet for aggression (like say, oh I dunno, arts and crafts, sports, therapy, friendship… video games?), people with so much despair they can’t see any other path to take than to harm others, or people who are just assholes give in to those primal urges of violence. They have to make the choice to commit to violence, or merely allow their emotions to control them. They have to plan the plans, buy the weapons, and then do whatever it is they do. Video games aren’t planting subliminal messages in gamer minds to make them hurt people for fun. They aren’t even a necessary step in harming someone, nor is “playful whimsy” a common motivation for homicide. The psychopaths who do go out and hurt people are psychopaths and would go out and hurt people regardless of whether or not they played a video game and thought “oh that would be fun” because they are psychopaths who hurt people. They are damaged individuals. Even in the frequently proposed circumstances in which a child plays Grand Theft Auto and decides to go out with a gun and rampage about because he saw it in a game, there are many other factors to consider in why that child made such an ill-informed moral decision, like their actual upbringing and perceptions of reality acquired from years of experience living in reality. It wouldn’t be the video game’s influence that shaped them, it would be the lack of other influences.

Experiencing violence will put violence in the forefront of your mind. However, that alone isn’t enough to convince me that video games manipulate people into acting upon that aggression. You can’t blame video games for murder unless violent video games are the only moral compass a person is exposed to throughout their entire lives. People are the sum of their experiences. If all they experience is bloodshed and carnage, whether virtual or otherwise, then that is all they will be. That’s just the way they will perceive the world. Someone who grows up in a community of thieves and backstabbers is going to be very wary of people because the sum of their experience dictates that people are not to be trusted. Someone who grows up in a society where people don’t wash their hands after going to the bathroom is going to be really upset with you if in your good nature you decide to put your hand on their shoulder. Some people juggle geese! There is a reason for the ESRB rating system. It’s designed to prohibit the influence of violent images on a young impressionable psyche until they are older and have more years of experience and understanding what is socially acceptable in reality. Anyone with a conscience is not going to go out and murder innocent civilians for shits and giggles. It is a parent’s job to instruct a child first hand and teach them what is acceptable behavior. That’s the responsibility of the community; of family, friends, teachers, neighbors and every other human being on the planet Earth that they encounter. The acceptance and support of family and friends, and a sense of purpose, are usually enough to keep people grounded. If someone snaps and acts as a triggerman for an unforgivable tragedy, then I would say that those would be the first factors to look at in their lives. Video games don’t kill people: decisions do. Nobody blames the actual mail for mailmen going postal. There are clearly other things at work influencing who human individuals are. You can regulate video games all you want, and slap as many warning labels as you want on them, and it won’t make any difference if individuals don’t receive the validation they need in reality they will find a way to take it.

That’s such a great segue into gun violence that we should transition to guns now. I don’t like guns. I like guns even less than Yoda likes being reminded he’s voiced by Ms. Piggy. My great dislike of guns comes from a fundamental fear of death most living creatures share, which is what from my point of view guns represent: the power of death. When I was a youngin’ of, say, eight or nine, I spent a week with my Uncle in the sophisticated land of rural Idaho, where one day he decided to teach me how to use a rifle. I was terrified. It was as big as I was, and black, and heavy, and even though that had been the first gun I’d seen in person I knew damn well that if that thing faced me and went off I would not exist any more. We shot at pop cans while he sat behind me bracing me so the recoil didn’t take my fragile young bird-like limbs right off, and it was one of the most emotionally uncomfortable days of my young life. Today, I have little problem with firearm heavy video games. I get a sense of accomplishment from my ability to strategize and adapt quickly to new situations, and a sense of personal growth and confidence in myself as my accuracy becomes precise enough that I can hit a tiny enemy pixel peaking around a corner a virtual kilometer away. If however I happen to learn that someone I know owns an honest to goodness real life gun my muscles tense instinctively and my senses immediately go into defensive mode and start scanning for danger. Say what you will about guns being tools of self-defense. They are designed to puncture holes in living creatures so that they stop moving one way or the other. They do not deflect other bullets. They do not heal the sick. They don’t turn water into wine. They end things. At their most non-lethal they can be used as a threat. A deterrent. Something to inspire fear. Something that makes people question whether or not they value their goals more than their life. Then maybe the offending burglar or ex-husband backs away and everyone goes home unscathed. Otherwise, they can be used to hurt other people before they hurt you. That’s not a particularly friendly solution. Circumstances aside, that’s just trading someone else’s well-being for your own. It’s not patterns of light creating illusions to your perceptions. It’s real. It’s violence. Yes, violence can be done with other tools like knives, chainsaws, tire irons, bobcats on a stick, etc, but that argument doesn’t make guns any less designed-to-kill. In fact, guns seem to be a pretty efficient tool for wide-scale mayhem. Any common argument against the restriction of firearms can be fairly easily countered with logic and reason, but it doesn’t get us any closer to addressing the real issue that has people literally willing to kill for their right to bare arms. The real issue to consider is power.

Guns are powerful, and have a strong effect on people. There is plenty of appeal. People love guns! First of all they’re aesthetically pleasing. I’m a particularly tactile human being. When I got my Nintendo DS several hours passed while I simply enjoyed the pleasure of holding the unopened box because I loved the weight, shape, and texture of it. Guns are heavy, and designed to fit comfortably in your hand. I don’t even like guns and I can spend hours on Google images admiring the shape and finish of magnum handguns. People who don’t know anything about cars can admire the beauty of a fine motor vehicle as well as anybody. Guns aren’t really much different. Second, they kill things dead. If someone comes at you for any reason, you can stop them. Just like that. There’s a strange sense of security and comfort that comes from that power over someone else’s life. Humans are soft, fleshy, vulnerable creatures that can’t do a whole lot against predators with teeth and claws. Humans do have the know-how to create tools to make up for our offensive shortcomings, and that’s what we have been doing since the inventions of the club, the spear, the bow and arrow, the gun, the tank, tactical nuclear armaments, and the Kuratas Giant Battle Mech: making ourselves feels secure. It’s compensation. It’s superiority. People are very competitive in nature. They love being better than others. Superiority is another benefit of power. Superiority means you’re more likely to thrive in your environment and defend your territory. Humans are very territorial creatures, and the confidence some animals need in order to feel like they can protect their family and their territory comes from having the suitable tools for the job. What happens when you take that security away? You get angry video blogs from gun owners saying that if the second amendment is taken away from them they’re going to shoot people. You get the feral violence of a cornered opossum in the form of a quasi-intelligent bipedal ape-descendant with more than just teeth and claws to gut you with. Superiority at the top of the food chain is also something required by predators in order for them to survive. In the wild, predators outclass their prey in terms of strength. Some animals are designed to hide, some to run, and some even have their own threat deterrents like barbs, poison, or super-stink, but in the end if something with suitable offensive capabilities had the opportunity to drop them flat they could. Criminals are no different. They hunt with what they have and take what they want, be it your wallet, your life, or just your mere innocence, from those they deem weaker than them. Predators don’t go looking for a fair fight. They go for the kill. In this case taking guns away would limit the effectiveness of the predator, forcing them to focus on one or two specimens of potential prey rather than a movie theater or school full of potential victims.

In my unprofessional opinion, video games are awesome and guns should be eradicated from history so that nobody remembers them and nobody will miss them, but I’m firmly anti-time travel and the eradication of guns isn’t going to do anything but make shooters a whole lot less interesting. That’s just me being an angry poop. Why am I so personally invested in this matter? Why am I so strongly affected by this debate that I would spend the last few days reading everything I can find and writing up this editorial rant? It’s because I can imagine people blaming my own mental condition on something as stupid as video games, and that ignorant deduction is frustrating to me because they would be neglecting to take into consideration that the collective sum of my experiences has made me cranky. There may very well be people today who see a correlation between the video games I play and my increased aggression, when it’s my increased aggression that influences my aesthetic choices in entertainment more than the other way around. When I was 11 I was involved in a freak accident that broke my arm in seven places and caused me to develop a form of post traumatic stress disorder called Panic Disorder. The primitive reptilian portion of my brain constantly reacted to every source of external stimuli as if I were about to be murdered in the most painful way imaginable. I grew up believing down to the core of my being that I was going to die for no reason and never see it coming. That did not instill the zen sense of peace and acceptance in me that one might expect from a child in their formative years. I am 25 years old, I’ve dropped out of college three times, I am chronically unemployed, I live with my mother, and my strongest source of personal fulfillment comes from creating and experiencing art. I’ve been in therapy long enough to know that I am the only one who has the power to decide how I react to the world around me. Every time I fail to step outside into the world, take advantage of an opportunity, or overall make something of myself, I take the full brunt of the responsibility because I know I can do better and that I am the only one holding me back. I feel an extreme sense of guilt over my failures because I know I am capable of making a positive contribution to the world. I just haven’t figured out how. I tend to scream and throw things now and then when things don’t go as planned. There’s an unpainted patch of spackle on the wall decorated like Hello Kitty because of the hole I put there after a frustrating phone conversation with the financial aid office at my local community college. My bedroom door was punctured by my elbow after my cat snuck up on my while I was thinking over a job application. My anger isn’t caused by video games. They are there as an outlet so that the anger caused by my dissatisfaction with life, which I am taking every positive step towards amending, doesn’t go in an unproductive direction.

Someone once told me that people don’t kill themselves because they don’t want to live. They kill themselves because they want things to change.

Blaming something is different from taking responsibility. People aren’t asking the right questions about why someone would go out and hurt someone else. Video games aren’t manipulating people into using heavy weapons to affect change in their environment. The real questions we need to be asking are why people are so dissatisfied with the quality of life that they would take such drastic actions to do something about it? What can we do to validate people and help them lead enriching lives? If you want to learn something by researching video games, try figuring out what it is that makes them so compelling and try to translate it to the real world. They give us goals. Help us acquire skills. Make us feel like we live in a world that is strongly affected by our choices. For some people, they make us better.

“Every moment gives us a chance to become more than what we are.”
Ryu, Street Fighter III: Third Strike

Monday, May 7, 2012

Avengers: Disassembled and reconstructed


It was recently requested of me by an avid and devilishly handsome follower of mine whom I don't mind flattering given that he has already praised me enough be asking to hear my ever-so-important opinion on an ever-so-important subject:

The Avengers

It's a comic book movie. That is a given. There are going to be a fair share of things in it no matter how well it was done that may or may not fly if you strain yourself thinking about it too much, but I will tell you right now that it was done very well. Very well. Deserving of 204.5 million dollars opening weekend. I will now task myself with identifying all of the negative points of this movie, all of which are completely irrelevant as I in my humble opinion, as a fan of comics and Happy Meal toys based on them, that it is one of the greatest super hero movies ever made. Given that my otherwise brilliant intellect goes mushy and dumb due to my tendency to fan-girl, my suspension of disbelief has actually been tested and reduced thanks to a wonderful review of Tim Burton's "Batman" film by ComicsAlliance.com, allowing me to see the flaws in even a movie as critically acclaimed as The Avengers. Let's get that out of the way so I can fan-girl.

The first thing I noticed right from the opening scene was the camera work. That shouldn't happen. That is rule number one of attaining a suspension of disbelief. You should not notice the camera. If you notice the camera, then you notice you're watching a film, and it stops becoming real. I think that is a newly identified pet peeve of mine. There are so many skewed camera angels that for a while I was expecting Cesar Romero to jump into frame in clown makeup. There was a rather unsubtle Sheeple Vs FREEDOM theme playing out early on that seemed cornier than Iowa, and in a throwaway line it seems that Allfather Odin himself handwaved the necessity of the Bifrost bridge that was destroyed in his son's movie. Loki's evil plan was a little simple by God of Mischief standards now that I think about it, and if you come away learning one thing from this film it is something comics have been teaching us since 1941: the bow and arrow are the most effective weapons in the history of mankind. In the long run, none of this matters.

What matters are the characters. Co-writer (along with Zak Penn, famed for one of the greatest movies of all time: "The Last Action Hero") and director Joss Whedon knows these characters, as best summarized by his Comic-Con 2010 interview in which he said, "these people shouldn't be in the same room, let alone on the same team -- and that is the definition of family." Captain America is a good ol' boy from the 1940's who believes in God and country, and has to adjust to the world around him in an appropriately awkward and uncomfortable fashion. Iron Man is sassier than ever thanks to the Whedony script. Thor was cocky, and genuinely concerned for his brother which was actually played very sweetly. Hawkeye was physically improbable. Bruce Banner's character was brilliant, alternating nicely between fidgety and bitter. Most of his screen time is spent either trying to shy away and be a fly on the wall, uncomfortably being brought into conversations against his will, or being angrily snarky about everything. Some of Mark Ruffalo's fidgeting seemed a little forced, but I forgive him because he still looked appropriately anxious for someone with a very severe and very violent mental disorder. Nick Fury was closer to his comic book counterpart than he's ever been, really playing up the most important aspect of who he is: the protector of the whole friggin' world. This man is willing to do whatever it takes to keep everybody safe from everything, whether you like it or not. The Black Widow, after this film, deserves her own movie. After being nothing more than a silent pair of murderous legs in tights in Iron Man 2, Scarlet Johnson actually gets to play a complete character. She's funny, complicated, badass, and everything a female super hero should be and has never been before. If anything, I would encourage people to see this movie just to support the the Women's Right to be Awesome movement. I mean hell, not only was she a complete character, the zipper on her suit didn't even reveal any cleavage. I wasn't looking to be a pervert, I was just curious that they honestly didn't try to sex up Scarlett Johansson for a comic book movie. This is America after all. I can't help but applaud fair representations of super-women.

So, now let's talk about The Hulk. I want to talk about Hulk, so we're talking about the Hulk. Half of the movie was lifted high above comic book movie standards by a great ensemble cast, who then graciously handed it to a big brutish green rage-beast... who then proceeded to make the midnight premier auditorium of my local Regal Cinema, and every theater since from what I've heard, scream and cheer so loud it could have drowned out all of the explosions in Michael Bay's wildest dreams. This became the Hulk's movie. That is what you will hear from anybody who has seen it. The Hulk stole this movie, and proceeded to let everyone know that even after Iron Man tried to take it back that the movie belonged to The Hulk. Even Loki was blown away by how incredible the Incredible Hulk was. There is a scene, and you'll know it when you see it, where it is apparent that Tom Hiddleston read the script, made a very shocked expression, froze in place, they dressed him up and filmed the scene, and then had to use smelling salts and muscle relaxants to thaw him out of his coma-like state to film the rest of the movie, all because the Hulk was just that awesome.

This is not a thinking man's movie. There are no real deep philosophical questions asked, although some were implied. There aren't any deeply personal internal conflicts that are explored by the characters, even though every single one of them has huge emotional problems that I'm sure will be addressed in further sequels (particularly Captain America, assuming they ever decide to use him in a good movie.) No, this is a movie for people who like to cheer for the good guys. This is for fans of witty dialog, explosions, great ensemble casts, and eye patches. This movie is for people who enjoy life. If you want to be happy I suggest watching this movie. I suggest bringing friends and arming yourself with ridiculous props from your nearest retailer. I suggest sitting through the credits, watching a little something that maybe three people in the audience with you will understand the gravity of, sitting through more credits, and then being casually reminded of how amazing the movie you just watched was.

The Dark Knight was once hailed as the greatest super hero movie of all time, and it deserved the title all things considered. It had a decent plot. It had drama. It had Heath Ledger as The Joker.

We have a Hulk.

Avengers Assemble,
Lord Veltha

Edit: I negelected to mention the importance of having a nerdy friend explain the plot of Thor and Captain America: The First Avenger if you haven't seen those movies. I think you can get by without them, but they do give you a better sense of... never mind they're not important.

Monday, September 5, 2011

An Ode to Retro Gaming

I love Elite.

Elite is an outer space trading simulator for the powerhouse of graphics and sound, the Atari ST, in which you travel the galaxy buying low and selling high by assessing the needs and wants of each individual planet’s system of government and level of technological advancement. Occasionally enemies with bounties on their head will appear around violent planets and hunt you down rather than vice versa, you can mine asteroids for ore, or fly into the sun, but for the most part it is a lot of flying through uninhabited space killing time by trying to remember the keypad controls for your ship’s numerous gadgets. That is it. That is all there is to it. No revenge schemes, kidnapped princesses, quests for atonement, recovery from amnesia, or plot. Just you, space, a galaxy unified by an exceptional loathing of sitcoms, and a cargo hold full of slaves, illegal firearms, and Arcturian mega weed.

There are “sandbox games,” such as the famed Grand theft Auto series, in which the player is given a large area of play and the freedom to ignore the game’s missions in favor of frolicking to your hearts content, but they give you the luxury of missions, side missions, and occasional mini games to fall back on when your imagination fails. Elite is all about “dirt gameplay.” There is nothing there except for what you make of it, leaving your imagination to fill in the blanks about your character and motivations as you sit drifting through space to the local port in an almost zen-like trance, interrupted now and then by the threatening presence of blinking lights on your radar and lasers being fired from a distance that erode your shields at a terrifying rate. I for instance decided that I would be an honest vendor of medical supplies and would bring them to poor colonies in need. Then I chanced upon a drifting cargo canister containing two tons of narcotics and proceeded to run from local authorities until I could find a place to fence them. Not long after that I stumbled across an unmarked canister of human slaves and gave up on the idea of being an angel of mercy.

The low-polygon ship models are stark, but thankfully there few instances in the heat of combat where you get a good long look at your enemy from your first-person cockpit view. When I was eight years old the graphics didn’t matter, and in my giddy nostalgic bliss I find that they matter even less. As I sit in the aforementioned zen-like space trance I’m given a moment’s pause to consider how easily such a low-tech game manages to remain so appealing in this the seventh generation of gaming consoles.

Modern titles have enormous polygon counts per object, enhanced lighting effects, and even the occasional orchestral soundtrack, but as good as a game is these days, unless it has an online multiplayer feature it gets shelved minutes after the credits roll and either collects dust or is traded in for another game that will undergo the same cycle. Whether it was God of War for PS2, or Bioshock for Xbox 360, games get one play through on average and could potentially spend the rest of their days without ever setting foot in another disk tray, but Super Mario never dies. Super Mario Bros. for the Nintendo Entertainment System has been around for over 25 years, and people still play it, whether on an emulator, as a Wii Virtual Console Title, or if they’re fortunate, an old NES or new generic console. Mario never dies. Even with controls simplified to two buttons and a d-pad, the game continues to be compelling and addicting to everyone from die-hard gaming veterans to kids teething on the Wii. It is simple, eternal, and iconic.

In “Understanding Comics: the Invisible Art” by Scott McCloud, the author goes into great detail explaining the nature of the icon. Simple lines and shape that take on meaning in our minds, and the way images are interpreted in our minds mean the same thing as the object the image represents. He also discusses something very subtle in the artform of comics that is very difficult to explain in words. The more “realistic” an image is, the harder it is for the audience to relate to it. Highly detailed artwork occasionally appears static on a page. The images do not link in the audiences mind easily from one to the other, which is key to the artform of comics. Will Conrad's artwork in “Serenity: Better Days” based on the television series “Firefly” is made to look close to the actors as it represents, giving it a quality difficult to quantify in the minds of readers. It’s as if the audience’s mind confuses itself while trying to register on a subconscious level images that closely resemble but are clearly not the physical objects they represent that it cannot easily translate the comic book into a series of images in a sequence, and views each image as a separate entity. Meanwhile, more “iconic” art styles such as Rob Guillory's work on “Chew”, Charles Shultz's "Peanuts," or the extremely iconic work of most Japanese manga artists are easy on the eyes and easy on the brain, making it easier to interpret the sequence of images and words as the artfrom known as comics, and easier to hold onto the reader's attention.

I believe video games work much the same way.

Not on the same subconscious psychological level where the games are easier to comprehend if the graphics are of lower quality, but in terms of simplicity being somehow more acceptable, eternal, and addicting as hell. For some older games affect people’s nostalgia, and is the reason Nintendo released Ocarina of Time for the 3Ds, and why every good Star Fox game is an enhanced version of the original Star Fox for Super Nintendo. Humans are programmed to expect newer shiner objects to be dangled in from of them. It makes for competitive entertainment and software industries that have to push the limits of technology because that is what time has dictated sells. More and more when it comes to gaming, retro has been taking over the market. At E3 2010, Nintendo’s press conference was dominated by nostalgia. Kirby, Donkey Kong Country, NBA Jam, and even Goldeneye were catered directly to older audiences who would respond with, “Holy crap! I remember that! That’s awesome!” and making the impressionable gaming youth go, “Yeah, well, I want that too then.” Iconic eight and sixteen bit two-dimensional graphics have also made an alarming return in the form of Retro Game Challenge, Super Meat Boy, Scott Pilgrim Vs The World, Holy Invasion of Privacy, Badman! What Did I Do to Deserve This?, Geometry Wars, Mega Man 9 and 10, and hundreds of independently developed games. Games are returning to an era where everything was simple, iconic, and eternal. I am in full support of this necessary revolution.

With the economy crashing down, more and more industries are focusing on what sells, and what’s cheap to make. This is the reason Capcom continues to make updates for Street Fighter IV and Marvel Vs Capcom 3, rather than risk making a sequel to a franchise that hasn’t been around since the days of the original PlayStation despite enormous fan outcry. It is also the reason developers need to focus more on form and less on substance. I’ve discussed before the decline of the Final Fantasy franchise. As hardware allows for more advanced software development, developers focus more and more on creating high definition graphics. Time and funds are spent on high polygon models and detailed texture mapping. The advanced graphics soak up valuable storage space on the disks the games are published on. Quality of objects and environments rendered overshadows the number of objects and environments, leaving very pretty but very short games. What once was a series containing deep character development and hours of exploration has become a series of films about characters walking through a hallway. Other sequels have suffered from technological advances, such as God of War 3 and Ratchet and Clank Future. They’re still great games by any definition, but they’re noticeably shorter than their previous installments and come with a larger price tag. Other developers manage to find balance between graphics and open worlds filled with activities for the gamer such as Ubisoft’s Assassin’s Creed II and Rocksteady’s upcoming Batman: Arkham City. Graphics have their place as long as they compliment the gameplay, such as Okami’s watercolor style, Bayonetta's over-the-top madness, and El Shaddai's… EVERYTHING… but at the end of the day, video games are games, and games must be fun to be enjoyable, and “iconic” to remain relevant.

I have been hard at work editing a short video project, and every so often in order to take a break without straying far from my computer and potentially discovering some other distraction, I load a window running Minesweeper. There is a reason it has come standard with Windows operating systems for 21 years.

Pathos and good will,
Lord Veltha

PS: Make Mega Man Legends 3, Crapcom. Do it. I don't need to tell you what will happen to your families if you don't.

PPS: “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles IV: Turtles in Time” is a game I am really upset I didn’t mention in the blog because it suits my “icon” point perfectly. The game is a classic side-scrolling beat ‘em up, and the best of its kind. All you do is walk to the right and fight waves of enemies by button mashing. It is simple and compelling and pure elegance therein. What they did is try to capitalize on the nostalgia years later by remaking it with 3D graphics. It is by all means the exact same game. It is reproduced perfectly. Yet for some mysterious reason it is not fun. It’s as if the style of the game with its 16-bit sprites (or 32 in the arcade) was what made the game entertaining. By all means there is no reason for the 3D remake to not be as fun, but it isn’t. It even comes packaged with the original version of the game, so you can experience the difference. It’s the most bewildering thing, and the basis of my argument for more “iconic” games.

Friday, July 22, 2011

Captain America Vs Nazi Aliens

Let me make this perfectly clear: In order to be a successful super villain you must learn to understand, accept, and even appreciate super heroes. In order to become a successful movie producer you must learn to undermine, exploit, and degrade the hero until they are a meaningless husk. Many villains get the roles of villain and movie producer mixed up, and that is where they fail. Arrogance has led to the downfall of many a villain, when that hubris should be channeled into a positive strength. Look at yourself as you prepare to face your foe in combat and ask yourself, "Would my armada of chainsaw-wielding bears and death beam that fires the souls of dragons be enough to stop me?" If the answer is the resounding laughter of hubris, then perhaps it's time to re-assess your situation. Meanwhile, by emotionally reducing characters to one trait a piece, and adding explosions and lasers where applicable, movie producers are expanding their audience thousand-fold. That's the sort of thing America has come to expect from movies, and what is expected to attract American movie-goers. I myself am not against stupid awesomeness for the sake of stupid awesomeness. I enjoy things that are hilariously bad, and the comedic juxtaposition of things that modern society has come to refer to as "awesome."

I went to the midnight opening of Captain America... the FIRST Avenger. Let it be known that I was really looking forward to this movie. My enthusiasm may have been bolstered by fantastic merchandising, including the simple yet elegant Frisbee with an elastic strap, and quite possibly my favorite action figure ever: Winter Combat Captain America.

I'm going to write up the description on the back of the box for those of you too lazy to click on the above link, and even for those who DID click on the link because it bares repeating.

"CAPTAIN AMERICA will brave the harshest blizzard in order to protect the virtues of justice and truth. With only his snowboard and rocket launcher, CAPTAIN AMERICA is ready to shred down the mountain and destroy any villain that threatens the peace and well-being of his homeland."

I went to the movie with this description in mind as the entire premise of the film. Who wouldn't want to see Cap snowboarding down "the" mountain with a rocket launcher, blowing up Nazis, and launching off a ramp into an indy cab 1080° double-cork, and punching Hitler at the bottom of the slope? You may think my expectations were unrealistic. This is after all the "Concept Series" of action figures I was basing them on, but the scene depicted on this magnificently awe-inspiring figurine would not have out of place in this movie that went in every direction it could find.And yet it would, because that scene would have been good.

I may be a little too critical. It was late, I was underslept, and bad fashion choices were made, but this movie was all over the place. It tried to be too many things, and the thing it succeeded at most was a musical. This is a movie based on a comic book about an art student from Brooklyn who gets juiced up by American steroid scientists in order to fight Nazis. HOW COULD IT GO WRONG!?

It tried really hard to get me to like it, and there were times it succeeded. Stanley Tucci was easily the most likable German steroid developer I've ever seen, and Tommy Lee Jones charmingly did his darndest to not give a single f#$* throughout the entire movie. I also appreciated the semi-campy tone it had while trying to be a 1940's movie serial. The brief cameo by the original Human Torch was probably the highlight of the entire movie for me. Everything else was predictable, hammy, and musical. It even started out predictably with modern ice spelunkers discovering Cap in ice, and the entire rest of the movie was a flashback. Iron Man started in real time and went to a flashback to explain how much of a douche Tony Stark was, Thor started out in real time and then went to a flashback to explain how much of a douche Thor was, and predictably Cap did the same thing, only substituting douchebaggory for pure super-imposed scrawny-assedness.

I am going to stop right here and get the SPOILER WARNING out of the way since I have not already mentioned that I am going to intentionally try to ruin this movie for you like it ruined me. If you have any desire to see this movie, I wouldn't want to deprive anyone of the shock and arg.

The movie was a blatant tie-in with Thor, and seemed to exist purely to set up the plot of The Avengers, which I still hold out hopes for. The Cosmic Cube in this movie is an Asgardian artifact called the Tesseract, presumably because the director happened to have a geometry book open and thought it was a cooler name for the ultimate plot device. It was being sought by Nazi scientist, Agent Smith, Elven Anarchist Drag Queen of the Decepticons, for the purpose of fulfilling a God complex. Agent Smith is the leader of Hyrda, a Nazi splinter division that specializes in being unrealistically technologically advanced. This brings me to my first question about the movie.

WHY WEREN'T THE NAZI'S ALIENS!?

This is Earth 1943. The Hydra base would have put the Death Star to shame in terms of immaculately clean evil space decor. Even the Hydra uniforms, the ones that WEREN'T robot suits, look completely out of place when put side by side with good ol' American fatigues. Their evil mountain fortress and most of its contents were all made before they acquired the ultimate plot device. With all of the ridiculousness going on in the movie, and the fact that nothing was believable, suggesting the Nazis were really shape-shifting aliens from another planet in order to explain why they were so technologically advanced would have been okay with everyone in the audience. The Nazi's in The Ultimates were assisted by aliens, and we all know how badass Ultimate Captain America was. Instead it's explained that everything was created by this guy. Sorry, hold on... THIS guy, who is clearly NOT a television, and like the Nazi aliens, COULD have been. Why? Well, why the hell not? Frankly, I was surprised that they weren't aliens, and I am dead certain that someone somewhere who had never read a comic book in their lives was leaving the theater asking themselves why the Nazis had not been aliens.

I mentioned before that Captain America: The FIRST Avenger tried really hard to be a 1940's super hero movie serial. This was achieved through hokey acting and dialog, which is strangely acceptable on it's own without being juxtaposed by the SPACE NAZI LAIR scenes. The thing that
completely severed the cables supporting the suspension bridge of disbelief was the montage of the Agent Smith doing violent evil things against a fiery backdrop during the expository monologue explaining that he was the villain of the movie. They could not set up a believable world, and then once they pumped Cap full of thawed blue raspberry Otter Pops it got worse.

A Nazi spy killed the creator of the Super Soldier Serum, who apparently refused to write anything down, thus making it impossible to replicate the miracle that is Chris Evans. In the comics he tweaked one last thing right before the procedure that actually made the Serum work, but in this adaptation they just forgot to make back-ups of all the documentation and everything was lost until The Incredible Hulk needed someone to punch who was not a lake. Then, since the military was only able to produce one super soldier, they decided that rather than actually put him to work stomping Nazis as a costumed badass they would take the thousands of dollars they invested in one man's abs and turn him into a dog-and-pony show.
Then suddenly, without warning... the movie became a
musical about war bonds.

Using Captain America as a poster boy to bolster support for troops during WWII is not something I have a problem with. It's the fact that that's all the military has intended to use him for. This is a guy that could lift a car, or at least wrestle one while attached to a wire harness, and rather than train him to stomp Nazis, they put him in a cloth costume in front of a punch of pin-up girls and had him punch a caricature of Adolf Hitler, which should have been as cool as it sounds, and might have been had they not drug it out for three minutes. The point is that it made no sense. Stanley Tucci was shot, and everyone just said, "Oh well! So much for creating the perfect man to fight a tyrant bent on creating the perfect race" and walked away from the perfect man they just created, leaving Cap to travel America and tell the American people to give the government more money to waste on things they won't use to stomp Nazis. Finally, after embarrassing himself and everyone who saw the movie, Cap decides to go off and stomp some Nazis against the will of the Army, and free The Howling Commandos in order to attempt to make the movie not suck by including The Howling Commandos in it.

Sargent Fury and His Howling Commandos were created by the biggest asshole in comics, Stan Lee, when his editor said that the reason his comics sold so well had nothing to do with his writing, and everything to do with the cool titles. Stan, who had been trying to get fired for years, decided to come up with a war comic during the age of hippy peace-lovers with the longest most cumbersome name he could come up with just to win a bet that he could make it sell like hotcakes no matter the odds, and thus the Howling Commandos were born. Their inclusion in the movie was a fantastic nod to hard-core losers who knew who the hell they were. There was absolutely no character development for them, and they didn't need it, because all the audience needed to know was that they were the best part of the movie. Thank goodness the director had succeeded in that endeavor where he had fallen flat everywhere else. He couldn't even keep a joke about Howard Stark's overly complicated shield designs from falling flat. He even tried to put some conflict in a relationship that was hardly there between Cap and the only female character. The only thing that made the movie entertaining was its use of source material. For that reason, I am going to continue to insist that the Nazis had been aliens.

The next quarter of the movie consisted of action montages that made Team America: World police look like Mein Kamph with puppets, including scenes of Captain America on a motorcycle for the sake of having Captain America on a motorcycle. Cyber Nazis are punished, Cap prevents the launching of several BOMBS WITH COCKPITS THAT ARE LABELED WITH THE MAILING ADDRESS OF EVERY MAJOR CITY IN AMERICA SO THE SPACE NAZIS DON'T FORGET WERE TO FLY THEM... and then Neo leaps out of the Cosmic Cube and makes Agent Smith explode because I suppose the writers couldn't figure out how to make Captain America win a fist fight, and Cap crash lands a plane in the arctic because the autopilot is engaged and the controls will only allow him to steer up or down, and I officially can no longer even pretend to care about this movie or this blog.

If it had tried to be a straight up 1940's movie serial, or if it had tried to go for broke and have robot Nazi aliens riding dinosaurs on the moon and included more of the source material that had made the movie at least tolerable, it would have been a good movie. It just needed to pick something and movie on. Instead all we were given a heap of attempted films that added up to nothing. Film producers are the real villains. I think we can all learn something from them.

- Lord Veltha

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Overlord Overview #2

It is the year 0079 of the Universal Century. A half-century has passed since I, Lord Veltha, last posted a blog entry about my epic struggles to gain control over my small little world. A new home for mankind where people are born, and raised, and actually try to make a point to accomplish something. Seven months ago the Velthan Empire declared war on Clark Community College's financial aid administration. Initial fighting lasted over three months and saw both sides lose half their respective populations. People were horrified by the indescribable atrocities that had been committed in the name of independence.

However, due to the long-lasting stalemate, treaties of peace have since been signed and now I am enrolled as part-time student. Though, hold on... I seem to have skipped ahead a bit.

Amidst the struggles for academic supremacy, I had been participating in secret on a reality television (read: YouTube) series while cleverly disguised as a dumbass. Each episode was filmed semi-weekly at Hazel Dell Lanes, and featured a variety of challenges for me to quite entirely suck at. While it can be assumed that having not bowled for three years prior to the filming of this show would mean a distinctive lack of skill, talent, and fabulousness in my play-style, the shifting challenges did nothing to help me gain the experience I needed to improve. Chronic insomnia is also a difficult adversity to overcome in bowling. As is clearly depicted in episode 3, the circumstances of going without sleep for three to four weeks affects a person in such a manner that when forced to bowl for a reality television competition, the person will alternately have a big pansy-ass baby breakdown right there in front of everyone and sing Tom Lehrer songs. Incidentally, I was also later voted the favorite contestant of the season, which just goes to show that the key to victory in television, as in life, is to openly show no sign of skill while being the biggest asshole you can possibly be. Hate is love. The upshot is, my overwhelming popularity (by vote of maybe six people out of the eleven who have watched the show) was enough to land me the position as host of season 2.

My hostly duties were self-summarized as follows:
- Say whatever the director tells you to say, but better
- Be yourself and say whatever the hell you want to say
- You have no overall impact on the show so don't try to usurp us. We are Legion.
- Don't suck as much as the last host (Ha! That... that was a joke... in case my boss is reading this.)

Four episodes have been filmed already, and I'm beginning to get in the groove. The key is to demand my own cameraman. After all, to be myself is to be amazing, and how can I be amazing without someone constantly watching me? If David Blaine seals himself in a block of ice for a year in the forest and no one is around to tell him he's stupid, does he get any real satisfaction from the frostbite? I am doing my best to go above and beyond the duties of sitting around waiting for the crappy bowling to end. I'm actually getting in people's faces and asking the questions people want to know, such as "Do you hate your grandma?" and "Have you ever peed in the shower?" I nominate myself for best host ever, and ride my landslide victory into a big steaming heap of your gratitude for the service I have done for entertainment. You're welcome.

I have missed most of one episode though. I've been sick, but I'm driven to achieve by the fine actors I hear about on DVD commentary who go to work hungover from Sudafed and with mild concussions. If Jon Hamm can get his head split open on the set of Mad Men by the most mortified rigger in the history of television and come back from the hospital to finish to gorram scene against everyone's advice, then the least I can do is show up at a parking lot in a seedy area of town with a cold to tell people to bowl in a very impractical manner. I only have a couple more days to get completely better though, because I cannot miss the next day of filming. It's the Halloween episode. Fear my white-trash costuming skills.

I'm still no closer to getting a job; or a car; I haven't written anything, drawn anything, edited TAD, or spoken to anyone about voice acting in months; and yet I feel more content than I have in quite a while. I have structure now and see my friends on an almost daily basis. Things are fine now, but I'm still concerned for my future. There's so much more that I want to accomplish and I've done nothing. I had intended to speak with the director of Rolloff about a series I wanted to pitch him, but got distracted away from that, and now I feel that opportunity has been lost.

On the bright side: I am Spider-Man.

Part of the bargain I struck with Clark College in order to get my mother off their backs about all of the shit they were putting us through was that they would allow me to attend an acting class. I have no desire to act on stage, and grow increasingly disillusioned with film, but if I can learn how to suck less as a voice actor then I will be academically satisfied.

Part of my success as an overlord with manic depression is that I avoid going on stage unless I have a teleprompter reminding me of the words to "A Boy Named Sue." A monologue, going up on stage in front of everyone and hallucinating that you're somewhere else talking to a person that doesn't exist, is the hardest thing an actor has to deal with aside from the very real possibility that you suck as an actor (which, as previously discussed, isn't that big of a deal if you're a sufficient enough asshole as most actors are.) Our teacher instructed us that our monologue selection should be something we relate to, connect with, and isn't Shakespeare. My first thought was Spider-Man. True, I look up to the greats such as Dr. Doom, Lex Luthor, The Shredder, and Gargamel, but when it comes to real emotional connection to story-telling, quite frankly that's what Spider-Man is known for. Most dedicated Spider-Man followers will tell you that the reason they read Spider-Man is because he's a loser like them. Spider-Man was my first instinct, and I should have gone with it.

Instead I chose a re-written monologue from a play called "Fishing" by Micheal Weller, who, thankfully, is a playwright from the 1970's who writes stories about youthful and energetic partakers of the magic cookie bush. The dialog is witty and often nonsensical. It's perfect for me. The particular monologue I chose was not.

I was having an infamously bad morning. My depression led me to believe that I would be ridiculed for picking a monologue out of Ultimate Spider-Man. I was terrified that I would be looked upon as lazy and uncaring. I decided to look through the teacher's books one more time. I stumbled over the monologue, about a guy who was on the brink of killing himself and decided he really wanted to live, and figured it sounded an awful lot like my morning. At the time it seemed like the perfect choice. If I was in a good mood it could be read with a sense of irony, and if I was in a bad mood it could be read well. I immediately went to Powell's to buy the play it was from, because I wanted to make the effort. I'm always to determined to prove how hard I can work. I hate hearing teachers give the class crap about how lazy they are and feeling like they're speaking to me too. I had to do everything I could to prove myself, and I pushed myself as hard as I could. The day I read it was the kind of morning where you wake up feeling alright, but then start mumbling "I want to carve my heart out with a knife" while you're scrambling eggs and suddenly everything goes downhill. After my monologue I ran out of the classroom screaming f-bombs and hid in the trees somewhere. The horrible thing about the Clark College campus is that there is no place to hide and be alone. By the time I got home I was fairly certain I was going to hurt myself. I kept screaming things about wanting to break off my fingers. This lasted a few hours and subsided.

This is an important thing to note, because a hero is not measured by his victories, but by his failures. (I say hero in the Campbellian sense of the term. You must also realize that with the original Greek concept of a hero, what made a deed heroic was the amazement factor, not whether or not the deed itself was good. If you could bring down a building with your bare hands and crush everyone inside you were called a hero. Greeks also believed throwing babies in the fire gave them immortality.) I also realize that Blogger doesn't have the nifty hiding feature that Live Journal has.

This failure taught me many things:
1) Manic depressives shouldn't spend so much time working on memorizing/feeling things about death.
2) Taquitos are magical wish-granting foods that can help you memorize things in the knick of time.*
3) THERE IS NO PLACE YOU CAN HIDE AT CLARK COLLEGE. Plan escape routes accordingly and hide in your girlfriend's car.
4) Orcas get off on rubbing against the smooth rocks along the shores of British Columbia. (Source missing.)

After that fiasco I decided it was in everyone's best interest that I read comic books. In issue 21 of Ultimate Spider-Man, after his second win out of six fights, Spidey is given a chance to explain to the press who he is and why he runs around in tights punching people with robot arms and reality television hosts. If you crop it up right, it becomes a very nice monologue. There are many monologues in Ultimate Spider-Man. Brian Michael Bendis really likes to hear himself write. There's one monologue that spans three issues during the Venom story arc. Three issues of Peter's dad talking about cancer, bureaucracy, and how he has no idea that he's going to die in a plane crash. However, I chose to do what I know: talk about how I just want to do my thing and not care about what people think.

When I delivered the monologue I was still sick. I also had to leave the class once because when I was critiquing another actor I forgot to lead in with what I liked and a girl sitting behind me smacked me with the script she was holding. Granted, if I wasn't already terrified and on edge about what happened last time I went on stage the playful thwap wouldn't have sent me reeling, but I am not master over circumstances. I was able to head back fairly soon, and it wasn't long before it was my turn. Even with little preparation time given my illness and other responsibilities I seemed to do very well.

I will tell you right now that I have missed applause. I don't have the opportunity to receive genuine applause often. In a classroom environment like that applause is obligatory, and you can tell the difference between obligatory applause and genuine applause. For one thing, the teacher was reeling back in his seat laughing and asking me what my monologue was from. Here I was terrified I would be ridiculed for choosing something out of a comic book, and he was actually commending me fore it and was in awe of how creative I was in choosing such unusual material. Most of the class didn't catch on that it was Spider-Man until the end, if at all. People reacted most positively to how I wasn't trying to be a super hero, and that I was just some dorky guy, which was entirely the point of the monologue. The biggest complaint was my exit because I didn't jump up and pretend to swing away. Once people clicked that I was Spider-Man that's what they were expecting. And the teacher gave me the best compliment I have ever received. Even better than "[Veltha] you are the sanest person I know. Which is weird, because you're the only person I know who is certifiably IN-sane."

"I used to read Spider-Man when it first started. And that was a looong time ago. To me, you are how I imagine Peter Parker."

I've been fortunate lately. I finally have a daily routine. I get to see my friends almost every day. I may or may not be acquiring a skill I can use someday if I keep fighting for it. I'm on my way to becoming a local internet sensation. I have an amazing girlfriend. But it was in that moment on stage that I finally felt victory. That was the praise I've been struggling so hard for.

Anyway, there's that. At the time of this posting it is past noon, and I have yet to ingest any meals. I should have had three by now. My metabolism is a mighty force to be reckoned with. My failure to take care of my health will not go unpunished I'm sure. What I need is a warm bowl of soup, followed by a hot shower and a comfy couch. Then... THE WORLD!

Pathos and good will,
Lord Veltha

*Lord Veltha's Guide to Monologue Memorization (because there aren't enough lists in this post):
1) Re-write the monologue in your own handwriting, complete with the subtext of what the character is really thinking written in the margins with a different color of writing utensil.
2) Eat taquitos. LOTS of taquitos.
3) You know what, cook up some french fries while you're at it.
4) Spend a couple hours half-heartedly struggling in vein trying to memorize the lines. Read it until you really don't want to work anymore but really should because it's important. Then throw the guilt away and come to a complete stop.
5) Curl up with a cat on the couch and watch TV or DVDs.
6) Play video games until you fall asleep.
7) In the morning when you wake up you will know the monologue from top to bottom without any difficulty.

Yes, this is my method for memorization, and yes it worked. Twice.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Lord Veltha Vs "Scott Pilgrim Vs The World"

Warning: This article isn't actually about the movie itself, but the importance of the role the audience plays in artwork. Please ignore it. I'm ranting. Anything worth saying on the subject has already been said here and there, but it's time Lord Veltha put his two cents in. It's not the intention of this blog to write on subjects aside from myself, but as this is a matter of projected personal importance I need to speak my superior mind.

Scott Pilgrim Vs The World was not meant to appeal to everyone. It was specifically designed to cater to the aesthetic of the counterculture youth who grew up in the eighties and early nineties; the people with Batman posters on their walls and Legend of Zelda music on their iPods, the people who follow webcomics and/or have one of their own, the people seeking to balance the freedom of childhood with the responsibility of adulthood, and it punches their counterculture aesthetic in the balls with a fist of awesome.

If you did not laugh at that sentence, then Scott Pilgrim is not for you, and that's okay! You're not the audience for this film, and you don't have to be. This is the thing many reviewers neglect to take into consideration. Art is not meant to appeal to everyone, and that's good because it never will. This something I too forget when I explain my dislike towards the Twilight franchise. Obviously the Twilight series appeals to many on a core emotional level. These people are generally not worth my time as I'm lead to believe their core is a shriveled husk of ignorance, but I accept that and move on. I've never read the series or seen the movies, and have only heard tales of terror and disgust from like-personalitied individuals. The few clips I had seen of Eclipse were enough to make me cringe based on the camera work alone. The camera work. Not necessarily something I notice right away when watching other films. Obviously, I am not the intended audience for this series, and I should keep my snarky mouth shut. After all, the experience of the individual in regards to art is what matters. If a man paints a portrait of himself in his own blood in the middle of the woods and then dies so no one is ever able to see it, is it still art?

In school we were made to write a paper that would accompany our artwork called an "Audience Paper." The intention of this paper was to explain to our teachers the importance of our artwork to ourselves and the specific group in society that the implications of the work were intended towards on the off chance the teacher just didn't get it, so that they could understand what we were doing was in fact amazing and they just couldn't see it, so they would base their grades on whether or not our piece did appeal to those whom our projects were aimed at. This was the general theory, but like most papers the purpose of it was never adequately explained to a group of hyperactive teenagers, and so the meaning was lost until those who continued to pursue careers in their art-form just sort of clicked and swore under their breath upon the realization that the teachers they hated were right all along.

Scott Pilgrim Vs The World widely appeals to its intended audience IN ABUNDANCE! That cannot be said for all movies (*Cough* SuperMarioBrothersStreetFighter:TheLegendOfChun-LiSteelBatman&RobinDaredevilLauraCroft:TombRaiderSupermanIVCatwoman
BatmanForeverMortalKombatAnnihilationHowardTheDuckDoubleDragonMaxPayne *COUGH*) so the fact that it serves as a very niche movie that appeases the intended audience is applaudable. That alone is enough to warrant it a pass. The film is noticeably more entertaining amidst a crowd of people who get the movie than with a theater of mothers taking their children to see it (though it is often hilarious to watch the reactions of people who have no idea what they're seeing) and when the energy is high it's harder to notice some of the forced performances near the end when it almost feels like a public service announcement on conflict mediation and how not to be a douche-bag. Unfortunately, reviewers generally write based on personal interest and experience, which is fine so long as they clarify that and accept that their own opinion is no more than an opinion and not the definitive word. I've seen old classics, pretentious French films, and a little of everything else. Everything appeals to someone. My audience is an important thing to consider as I continue my work. I know who they are, and I am certain I do well by them. Now all I need is a way to reach them.

In regards to this blog being a record of my accomplishments, I assure you that I'm running behind on updating and I haven't been slacking off on my duties as an aspiring overlord. I have some very interesting news regarding bowling that ought to be shared, but haven't because of a long-time expired unwritten confidentiality agreement, and I have sold several copies of The Astonishing Dude on CD, but somehow this took precedence.

Pathos and good will,
Lord Veltha

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Lord Veltha Vs THE SPACE CARNIES! (Preliminary Match)

It's that cosmic time in the universe when people go out in the blistering heat to eat food that is terrible for them and engage in activities that clearly served as the inspiration behind the SAW movies. Yes underlings, I'm referring of course to the Clark County Fair.

The fine individuals responsible for Scream at the Beach are slapping together a little shindig called "The Day The Fair Stood Still," which will hopefully not feature Keanu Reeves, but you never can tell what these people are thinking. This event was was discovered via Craigslist ad for aspiring alien invaders whilst on the look out for possible revenue acquiring activities to support my filthy habits. It requested that all interested parties sign up on their website for the meeting that would take place at Captain Henry's Pirate Store at the Lloyd Center Mall. It was this magical combination of aliens, pirates, gang violence and carnies that inspired me to recruit two of my closest comrades in arms to accompany me on this adventure.

The back room of the pirate store is made surprisingly dangerous by the presence of one of most ill-conceived tables ever devised by man. Most tables are built with what physicists often refer to as "legs," but the craftsmen responsible for this table decided to opt for the "cardboard on a tower of coffee cans" approach. This is the table that the kid who was only invited to your birthday party because your parents felt bad for him would sit, and naturally the table my allies and I chose to observe from.

Right off the bat they took our photographs for identification, as per state law requiring all carnies to file under the carny registration act put in place by Tony Stark for our own safety. It is then we sat at our table and watched the others enter. The group was of course made up entirely of volunteers. Some of these individuals had been going at this for four years, and I wondered how many of them were on social security. They were, without a doubt, carnies, with a few aspiring actors thrown into the mix. Our gracious host put on a laptop assisted show for us as an introduction that seemed oddly irrelevant and out of place. It was a scene straight from War of the Worlds (the radio show turned hilarious misunderstanding) with him interviewing his improvisational guests and adding pitch-shifting voice modulation to the microphone. I do not believe this was intended to set the mood for the rest of the day. I believe this was intended to get all of the awkward discomfort out of the way before we began discussing the matters at hand.

Once he began describing the haunted house/space ship/tunnel of darkness and tight spaces the afternoon grew more appealing. The haunted house will be set in "town square," where various activities will be available for fair-goers to get more acquainted with the culture of the newly arrived alien guests. These activities include computer graphic face changing to make people look more like traditional alien cliches, a theremin to learn alien music, and of course the annoying voice modulation device to learn alien language. The space ship will be billed as a friendly tour of an alien space ship, but keep in mind this party is being thrown by our good friends at Scream At The Beach, who have warned us newcomers that people occasionally show fear through their fists.

Each participant was given a list of role that needed to be filled, with key roles highlighted in red. These roles were necessary roles for the fun house, and monitoring the other activities. We were permitted the audition for any role we chose by following very vague guidelines up on stage. I had originally auditioned to be an MIB style security guard, but my interpretation of being possessed by cosmic forces garnered me a role inside the fun-house as an alien where I will be doing my darnedest to get people to relieve their bladders in fear for a $20 bonus. Given that I have landed one of the highlighted key roles I will already be receiving $20 a day for my dedication, but this will of course be going straight into the bellies and gas tanks of the henchmen I have enlisted to join me, so the only way to fund my diabolical schemes will be to cause urine to manifest in the pants of the 15,000 some odd people who will go through the haunted house.

Do the math with me: $20 X 15,000 pairs of piss-stained pants. If this plan doesn't reek of evil (and... well... excrement...) then I don't know what does.

So, if you have waaaaaaaaaaaay too much free time on your hands from August 6th to the 15th, particularly from 10am to 6pm, drink LOTS of water and come by the Clark County Fairgrounds. We'll be waiting.

Pathos and good will,
Lord Veltha