Kohn's whirlwind coverage of countries that wakened into nations continues with Italy, Norway, Denmark, and Sweden.
Gathered together like this, patterns among the ways in which nationalism emerges are starting to appear.
Generalizing broadly, it seems that the nations of Europe awoke either through poetry and drama or through the political work of individuals. Sometimes these two also worked in concert.
More often than not though (at least with the nations Kohn's covered so far), everything is sparked by a single individual's efforts. Not always while that person is alive, however, or in vogue.
In the case of Italy Vittorio Alfieri got people thinking about nationalism, but in an incredibly insular way. Alfieri decried the influence of anything from outside of Italy as such things threatened to corrupt the pure Italian-ism that had fostered the Roman Empire.
As much as nationalism is a matter of a collective ego (with all the negative and positive connotations of that word) another trend that's come out is that almost every nation that Kohn has chronicled draws inspiration to awaken to nationalism thanks to inspiration from another country. The French Revolution was just such an inspiration to Italy, much to Alfieri's chagrin.
Another 60 pages remain, and so I'll see about how these patterns carry forward.
Off-the-cuff writings about, and sometimes reviews of, books and video games from a nerd's boxes of backlog. Warning: this is not a spoiler-free blog!
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Finding the missing fygg
Apparently going to Swinedimples Academy before Gleeba wasn't my first move out of order. There's a fygg hiding on the way to Bloomingdale. It's atop the Heights of Loneliness, among the Zere Rocks.
The thing is, I never would have figured this out without a guide.
When I first went through the area on my way to Bloomingdale, with dreams of a ship running through my head, I found the entrance to the Heights of Loneliness. But I turned back, thinking that I'd check it out again after I'd levelled up some and bought better equipment. In the end, I did just that - only over a much longer period than originally intended.
But what makes this fygg so hidden?
The fact that it's not related to or near any town or place with a save point. All of the other fyggs are. So what makes this one so special? It's almost as if the developers just needed a seventh fygg and so they came up with something and tossed it in between two major centers in the game.
Speaking of which, my memory of NPC banter suggests that hints about this fygg were almost non-existent. Were it not for the lone man waiting around near Mason's cabin you'd never even know that its owner had gone up the mountain and then deduced that you were to follow.
In an RPG that features a world map broken down into smaller maps that could still give other RPGs whole overworlds a run for their money, is hiding a fygg like this good design?
Or did someone drop the ball on this one, leaving Dragon Quest IX with a weirdly obtuse, plot-centric destination?
The thing is, I never would have figured this out without a guide.
When I first went through the area on my way to Bloomingdale, with dreams of a ship running through my head, I found the entrance to the Heights of Loneliness. But I turned back, thinking that I'd check it out again after I'd levelled up some and bought better equipment. In the end, I did just that - only over a much longer period than originally intended.
But what makes this fygg so hidden?
The fact that it's not related to or near any town or place with a save point. All of the other fyggs are. So what makes this one so special? It's almost as if the developers just needed a seventh fygg and so they came up with something and tossed it in between two major centers in the game.
Speaking of which, my memory of NPC banter suggests that hints about this fygg were almost non-existent. Were it not for the lone man waiting around near Mason's cabin you'd never even know that its owner had gone up the mountain and then deduced that you were to follow.
In an RPG that features a world map broken down into smaller maps that could still give other RPGs whole overworlds a run for their money, is hiding a fygg like this good design?
Or did someone drop the ball on this one, leaving Dragon Quest IX with a weirdly obtuse, plot-centric destination?
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Starting into "Family Happiness"
Leo Tolstoy is the last person I'd expected to write a short story that feels as though it's familiar to fans of the Brontë sisters or Jane Austen.
Of course, my knowledge of Russian history and literature (of anything historically Eastern European in fact) is pretty sparse. Awareness of what that region's literary legends did definitely falls into the category of such knowledge.
But what I find particularly curious as I read "Family Happiness" is that Tolstoy's Mashechka doesn't sound like she's written by a man. No more than Jane Eyre or Elizabeth Bennet does. It's much clearer to me now how nineteenth century readers so easily assumed books written by women were actually done by men.
What I'm reading is a collection of four of Tolstoy's short stories. The first of these is "Family Happiness." It's as dour as everyone says Russian literature is, with its heroine going on frequent late night walks alone and being called out for the affecting happiness only in the presence of others. Where I've left things, the main character, Mashechka, expects her confession of love to the quite older Sergey Mikhaylych to go well.
I've not read much Russian literature before this, but I have read enough to know that something's going to go awry. Based on Sergey's dwelling on his calling Mashechka Masha, I'm willing to guess that this is either Mashechka's mother's name, or the name of some previous lover. If things get really interesting, it will be the name of Mashechka's father. Alternately, and possibly most disappointingly, it could just be a matter of calling her by a familiar form of her name. Without proper understanding of Russian names, it's hard to guess with certainty.
Actually, the age gap between these lovers-to-be is kind of startling. Mashechka is seventeen and Sergey is 36. So Mashechka definitely fails the "half-your-age-plus-seven" rule.
The mid nineteenth century was a different time, I know, but still. Under the auspices of that rule, Mashechka's a full eight years too young.
If things do go as wrong as I expect them to, I'll be sure to chalk it up to this disparity in age.
Of course, my knowledge of Russian history and literature (of anything historically Eastern European in fact) is pretty sparse. Awareness of what that region's literary legends did definitely falls into the category of such knowledge.
But what I find particularly curious as I read "Family Happiness" is that Tolstoy's Mashechka doesn't sound like she's written by a man. No more than Jane Eyre or Elizabeth Bennet does. It's much clearer to me now how nineteenth century readers so easily assumed books written by women were actually done by men.
What I'm reading is a collection of four of Tolstoy's short stories. The first of these is "Family Happiness." It's as dour as everyone says Russian literature is, with its heroine going on frequent late night walks alone and being called out for the affecting happiness only in the presence of others. Where I've left things, the main character, Mashechka, expects her confession of love to the quite older Sergey Mikhaylych to go well.
I've not read much Russian literature before this, but I have read enough to know that something's going to go awry. Based on Sergey's dwelling on his calling Mashechka Masha, I'm willing to guess that this is either Mashechka's mother's name, or the name of some previous lover. If things get really interesting, it will be the name of Mashechka's father. Alternately, and possibly most disappointingly, it could just be a matter of calling her by a familiar form of her name. Without proper understanding of Russian names, it's hard to guess with certainty.
Actually, the age gap between these lovers-to-be is kind of startling. Mashechka is seventeen and Sergey is 36. So Mashechka definitely fails the "half-your-age-plus-seven" rule.
The mid nineteenth century was a different time, I know, but still. Under the auspices of that rule, Mashechka's a full eight years too young.
If things do go as wrong as I expect them to, I'll be sure to chalk it up to this disparity in age.
Grinding in Torrent Peak
Perhaps an unintended side effect of the constantly respawning monsters in the main room of Torrent Peaks is fairly frequent levelling up. At this rate, I'll be pretty over powered by the time I get up to this tower's master.
Unfortunately, why I've been grinding with these monsters is because the water wheel has me partially stumped. I need to get the pegs lined up so that they can be used to climb up from floor to floor. But while you're using the switch to move the water wheel the camera is fixed at such an angle that you can only see one side's pegs. Yet you need to align the other side's pegs with outcroppings as well. Without using a guide, I've got nothing but guesses and trial and error to go off of.
I might be better off just hitting up GameFAQs.
In the meantime, I've got to say that I really appreciate the ability to throw enemies. When you're being swarmed on a narrow platform it really helps to make space. But having the monsters in the main room respawn every time you wander off to a different floor really makes it a pain to leave the tower.
Nonetheless, the game continues. Hopefully the next tower's more combat-based.
Monday, March 3, 2014
Nationalism, "patriot," and language
From Ireland and Wales, Kohn has moved on to write of Holland, the Netherlands, Spain and Portugal. At this point I'm wondering if he'll get over to Asia at all. Though that seems especially unlikely.
What strikes me as the most dated feature of Kohn's writing, though, is his constant use of the word patriot.
When The Idea of Nationalism was first printed, in the 40s, the word stood for something to strive toward. A patriot was someone who expressed a desire to better the entire world through bettering his or her home nation. In modern usage, however, at least in North America, the word's gathered too many negative connotations to be taken seriously. Or to be regarded as a positive.
There's the infamous Patriot Act in the United States. And the general sense that a "patriot" isn't someone who stands up for some national good but who's fanatical about his or her country the same way that a football fan who paints himself and screams the whole game through is seen as fanatical about his team. In this age of irony where sincerity is seldom expressed, "patriot" is too strong a word to be of any good use.
Of course, that's not to say that there were no egos involved in the early nationalism that Kohn writes on. It seems like that's all it was - a country's population coming together to say "this country of ours sure is much greater than all those others."
In the case of Spain, for example, Spanish nationalism was fostered on the idea that Spanish literature was the only truly original European literature. Further, that the rest of Europe owed Spain a great deal in the literary field.
It was also thought that a country's language had to be pure for it to unite as one.
Given the way that English has fractured, maybe even to the point where "proper" English is where Latin was 100 years ago, it seems unlikely to unite anything much. Yet the bible, the book used to legitimize languages in the past, is being translated into LOLCat.
What strikes me as the most dated feature of Kohn's writing, though, is his constant use of the word patriot.
When The Idea of Nationalism was first printed, in the 40s, the word stood for something to strive toward. A patriot was someone who expressed a desire to better the entire world through bettering his or her home nation. In modern usage, however, at least in North America, the word's gathered too many negative connotations to be taken seriously. Or to be regarded as a positive.
There's the infamous Patriot Act in the United States. And the general sense that a "patriot" isn't someone who stands up for some national good but who's fanatical about his or her country the same way that a football fan who paints himself and screams the whole game through is seen as fanatical about his team. In this age of irony where sincerity is seldom expressed, "patriot" is too strong a word to be of any good use.
Of course, that's not to say that there were no egos involved in the early nationalism that Kohn writes on. It seems like that's all it was - a country's population coming together to say "this country of ours sure is much greater than all those others."
In the case of Spain, for example, Spanish nationalism was fostered on the idea that Spanish literature was the only truly original European literature. Further, that the rest of Europe owed Spain a great deal in the literary field.
It was also thought that a country's language had to be pure for it to unite as one.
Given the way that English has fractured, maybe even to the point where "proper" English is where Latin was 100 years ago, it seems unlikely to unite anything much. Yet the bible, the book used to legitimize languages in the past, is being translated into LOLCat.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
A post playthrough Super Mario RPG assessment
The 90s was the golden era of 16-bit console RPGs. You had your Final Fantasy titles, your Secret of Mana, your Lufia games, and, for those unafraid of emulators, Tales of Phantasia.
But, a little late to the scene, riding on the shoulders of giants, came Super Mario RPG: Legend of the Seven Stars.
This was the game that got me interested in the RPG genre to begin with. From there I moved onto those Final Fantasy games and Lufia titles, and the masterpiece that is Tales of Phantasia.
But I first played this game (several times through) almost twenty years ago, now. As such, you'd be right to wonder whether the game holds up or not.
After spending a weekend working through it with friends, I can write confidently that it does. For the most part.
Graphically, the sprites based on 3D-models still look clean and neat (with the exception of monsters like Belome).
Aurally, the music and sound effects have all the charm they do in the other Mario games.
Story-wise, the game is still compelling since several characters and elements of the Mario world are explored for the first and (alas) last time.
And, as far as the gameplay is concerned, Super Mario RPG offers a fine blend of JRPG standards (turn based combat and side-questing for secret areas and items) and Mario-inspired mini-games and platforming.
Though, the game's platforming is much more difficult than I remember. Mostly because the game's isometric viewpoint doesn't lend itself to easily judging distances and depths. Were it possible, warming up with some Sonic 3D Blast probably would've helped.
But Super Mario RPG really shines in its minigames' integration with the main game. Most of these games are played through at least once because of some relevance to the story. Placing them within the structure of the game as a whole keeps you from needing to do any serious backtracking to retry them. The minigames' accessibility also makes the game's world feel much tighter than those that are spread out over expansive world maps.
The cost for that tight world design is high, though. There's little exploration involved in Super Mario RPG. Just as when I played the game as a kid, in this recent playthrough there were a few instances where the crook of a wall or the texture of a rock suggested that something lay just beyond it, if only you had some of Link's bombs or Samus' roll ability.
However, beating an RPG crafted by the masters of the console RPG golden era, SquareSoft (known now as Square Enix) in a weekend (approximately 20 hours) is otherwise unthinkable. Were there an expansive overworld in Super Mario RPG, rather than a node system, much more time would be spent in travel. Not to mention, time spent fighting monsters during that travel.
But that's Super Mario RPG's greatest strength.
Even though when you know what you're doing it's a fairly short RPG, it's an RPG of small, manageable numbers.
At level 22, equipped with the Lazy Shell and the Quartz Charm, Mario doles out 500 damage per turn against the game's final boss. No more than fifteen turns of that damage alone ends him.
Your characters' HP isn't likely to climb much higher than 200.
The game pools together your party's MP into a number that maxes out at 99.
For whatever bizarre reason, you can only ever carry a maximum of 999 coins. If you do so, you'll never be left with less than 300 coins after upgrading all five of your party members weapons and armour.
These relatively low numbers make the game supremely manageable and conceivable. These qualities make the game a welcome reprieve from other more expansive RPGs (like Dragon Quest IX, or the downright intimidating Xenoblade Chronicles), while also offering a ready amount of challenge in its hidden content. Not to mention the infamous achievement of winning the Super Suit for executing 100 consecutive Super Jumps on a single enemy.
So, though the challenge may be set outside of the main game, and the experience as a whole is short in comparison to other RPGs, Super Mario RPG's rich blend of its name's two key elements locks it firmly in place as a great classic of the 16 bit era of RPGs.
But, a little late to the scene, riding on the shoulders of giants, came Super Mario RPG: Legend of the Seven Stars.
This was the game that got me interested in the RPG genre to begin with. From there I moved onto those Final Fantasy games and Lufia titles, and the masterpiece that is Tales of Phantasia.
But I first played this game (several times through) almost twenty years ago, now. As such, you'd be right to wonder whether the game holds up or not.
After spending a weekend working through it with friends, I can write confidently that it does. For the most part.
Graphically, the sprites based on 3D-models still look clean and neat (with the exception of monsters like Belome).
Aurally, the music and sound effects have all the charm they do in the other Mario games.
Story-wise, the game is still compelling since several characters and elements of the Mario world are explored for the first and (alas) last time.
And, as far as the gameplay is concerned, Super Mario RPG offers a fine blend of JRPG standards (turn based combat and side-questing for secret areas and items) and Mario-inspired mini-games and platforming.
Though, the game's platforming is much more difficult than I remember. Mostly because the game's isometric viewpoint doesn't lend itself to easily judging distances and depths. Were it possible, warming up with some Sonic 3D Blast probably would've helped.
But Super Mario RPG really shines in its minigames' integration with the main game. Most of these games are played through at least once because of some relevance to the story. Placing them within the structure of the game as a whole keeps you from needing to do any serious backtracking to retry them. The minigames' accessibility also makes the game's world feel much tighter than those that are spread out over expansive world maps.
The cost for that tight world design is high, though. There's little exploration involved in Super Mario RPG. Just as when I played the game as a kid, in this recent playthrough there were a few instances where the crook of a wall or the texture of a rock suggested that something lay just beyond it, if only you had some of Link's bombs or Samus' roll ability.
However, beating an RPG crafted by the masters of the console RPG golden era, SquareSoft (known now as Square Enix) in a weekend (approximately 20 hours) is otherwise unthinkable. Were there an expansive overworld in Super Mario RPG, rather than a node system, much more time would be spent in travel. Not to mention, time spent fighting monsters during that travel.
But that's Super Mario RPG's greatest strength.
Even though when you know what you're doing it's a fairly short RPG, it's an RPG of small, manageable numbers.
At level 22, equipped with the Lazy Shell and the Quartz Charm, Mario doles out 500 damage per turn against the game's final boss. No more than fifteen turns of that damage alone ends him.
Your characters' HP isn't likely to climb much higher than 200.
The game pools together your party's MP into a number that maxes out at 99.
For whatever bizarre reason, you can only ever carry a maximum of 999 coins. If you do so, you'll never be left with less than 300 coins after upgrading all five of your party members weapons and armour.
These relatively low numbers make the game supremely manageable and conceivable. These qualities make the game a welcome reprieve from other more expansive RPGs (like Dragon Quest IX, or the downright intimidating Xenoblade Chronicles), while also offering a ready amount of challenge in its hidden content. Not to mention the infamous achievement of winning the Super Suit for executing 100 consecutive Super Jumps on a single enemy.
So, though the challenge may be set outside of the main game, and the experience as a whole is short in comparison to other RPGs, Super Mario RPG's rich blend of its name's two key elements locks it firmly in place as a great classic of the 16 bit era of RPGs.
Saturday, March 1, 2014
What comes after Batsureg?
Well, it should have been expected. The next boss was just another bash fest. Even with its magic barrier, Larstastnaras proved to be no match for my group of four.
However. Now I'm really feeling the consequences of playing this game out of order.
It's entirely possible that the people of Batsureg wouldn't give clues for the next fygg anyway, but this seems unlikely. In a game as expansive as Dragon Quest IX I expect there to always be a hint hidden within NPC dialogue.
Since it's unclear where to go next I've taken to my ship.
Sailing around has landed me in the area of Wormwood Creek. Here, the entire town refuses to interact with foreigners. There's definitely a major sidequest here since what the people of Wormwood Creek do say suggests there's a way to break the town of its xenophobia. All of which is backed up by an inscription found at the edge of a canyon.
Now, the question is: Am I heading in the right direction?
I get the feeling that this part of the game (though in a hitherto unexplored part of its world) is extra. This feeling probably comes from the obscurity of it all.
A town that rejects foreigners?
An area that's mostly open space?
It just feels too far flung to be part of the game proper.
As always though, I won't know until I play further in. (And as long as I ignore most of what one of the linked pages mention.)
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