Should it be considered hand holding if a game gives you what you need?
The Legend of Zelda series (at least from A Link to the Past to the present) is a prime example of this device.
You're in the room before the boss in the dungeon where you found the bow, but you're out of arrows. No problem, enemies drop arrows, or the friendly pots hide them within.
Or you're in the room before the one that houses the Trinexx fight in Turtle Rock in A Link to the Past, but are almost out of magic. No worries, the skulls dotting the room in lieu of pots can be broken to find a few magic jars.
Is this sort of set up tantamount to a game saying "Hey, you'll need to use this item on this boss"?
And if it is, what about areas like the outside of Hyrule Castle in The Wind Waker, where you can find all manner of items in the grass? Do places like that suggest anything about what's to come, or are they just benevolent zones?
Whatever your answer to these questions is, I think that this sort of level design should be used instead of the tutorials found in most modern games. Some things merit a little extra explanation, but if you find item x (or ammunition for item x) outside of boss room (or puzzle room) y, then that should be clue enough as to what to do up ahead - no Navi-esque companions necessary.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
No Lead too Small
They may be nothing but flights of fancy jotted down on sketches and concept art, but the small details the Hyrule Historia reveals are telling. It seems that most are from Skyward Sword's early development, before things like Skyloft being the only town-like island in the sky, and all of its residents were set in stone.
Of particular interest, especially given how the hub nature of Skyloft echoes that of Clock Town in Majora's Mask, is a wee note on a sketch of "Lumpy Pumpkin Customer 1/Older Regular Customer 4." The note reads as follows: "He has taken a liking to the Lumpy Pumpkin and shows up at least once a day" (36).
As I wrote, it's not much, but it suggests that there might have been a town schedule for all of Skyloft's residents, as there was for Clock Town's in Majora's Mask. Perhaps, as is often the case with elements of Zelda games that disappear through development, such a scheduled world center will appear again in Zelda Wii U. Who knows, maybe we'll even hear about it in just over a month's time at E3.
Of particular interest, especially given how the hub nature of Skyloft echoes that of Clock Town in Majora's Mask, is a wee note on a sketch of "Lumpy Pumpkin Customer 1/Older Regular Customer 4." The note reads as follows: "He has taken a liking to the Lumpy Pumpkin and shows up at least once a day" (36).
As I wrote, it's not much, but it suggests that there might have been a town schedule for all of Skyloft's residents, as there was for Clock Town's in Majora's Mask. Perhaps, as is often the case with elements of Zelda games that disappear through development, such a scheduled world center will appear again in Zelda Wii U. Who knows, maybe we'll even hear about it in just over a month's time at E3.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Starting to Understand Radiant Historia
I can't say why I didn't try it before. Maybe, when just starting the game, I hit "X" and skipped over the dialogue telling me about it. But the "Start" button is my new favourite button while playing Radiant Historia. For, as I've mentioned before the game has you jumping between nodes in time, key events that either stand at forks in the timelines or that are of great importance.
Since these nodes are at such events, cutscenes are almost always ready and waiting for you after the jump. But, by pressing "Start," these scenes can be completely skipped over. If I had been told directly about this, it definitely wouldn't have the same effect, but it's definitely a huge relief. With this knowledge in mind, I feel like jumping back and forth between nodes won't be nearly as much of a pain as I had feared.
Oh, and in my previous attempts to find the firewood in the Spec Int timeline, I was glitching the game out.
It seems that you need to get the hidden withered branches in a set order, starting with the closest one to the camp and then going further and further away. There's one on a short narrow path that needs to be last so that you trigger Aht's telling Stocke about her secret place at the South Hill. Then, when you go to the hill, you not only find the final branch, but also get attacked by a wild boar. This initiates the section's boss battle (a complete breeze after digging so deeply into the Army timeline), and then lets you go back to the camp triumphant.
So, why am I working my way down the Spec Int timeline now, after getting to the point where I need to fix Rosch's gauntlet on the army timeline?
Stocke notes that the gauntlet problem is the most difficult to solve yet. Given such a statement, the most obvious solution is that both timelines are going to be necessary to move forward. And, with the "Start" button just millimetres from my thumb, moving forward will be easier than ever.
Since these nodes are at such events, cutscenes are almost always ready and waiting for you after the jump. But, by pressing "Start," these scenes can be completely skipped over. If I had been told directly about this, it definitely wouldn't have the same effect, but it's definitely a huge relief. With this knowledge in mind, I feel like jumping back and forth between nodes won't be nearly as much of a pain as I had feared.
Oh, and in my previous attempts to find the firewood in the Spec Int timeline, I was glitching the game out.
It seems that you need to get the hidden withered branches in a set order, starting with the closest one to the camp and then going further and further away. There's one on a short narrow path that needs to be last so that you trigger Aht's telling Stocke about her secret place at the South Hill. Then, when you go to the hill, you not only find the final branch, but also get attacked by a wild boar. This initiates the section's boss battle (a complete breeze after digging so deeply into the Army timeline), and then lets you go back to the camp triumphant.
So, why am I working my way down the Spec Int timeline now, after getting to the point where I need to fix Rosch's gauntlet on the army timeline?
Stocke notes that the gauntlet problem is the most difficult to solve yet. Given such a statement, the most obvious solution is that both timelines are going to be necessary to move forward. And, with the "Start" button just millimetres from my thumb, moving forward will be easier than ever.
Reading into Things
There's a ton of interesting stuff in the Hyrule Historia. Particularly, though, are the notes that are included with some of the drawings. In particular, one note included with some concept art of Fi.
This note reads: "! In the game the head will not be a Mii, right?" (13). Based on this, it sounds like the developers had a little fun with the game before finishing it - just like they did with Twilight Princess by populating the game world with Miis.
Or, maybe there was going to be a more personable version of Fi. A version that had the face of one of your Miis. Of course, Mii graphics and Skyward Sword's style would clash to a terrible degree. Nonetheless, it's interesting to see such a note beside some concept art of such an important character. They're trying to bring multiplayer to the Wii U installment of Zelda, so maybe that's where this "Mii as companion" idea will return and actually make it into the final version.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Taking Analog Aim at an Old Dungeon Boss
The Wind Waker's dungeons continue to be great fun. The Tower of the Gods merits some special mention, though. This is a dungeon that's enjoyable to wrok through, but also a bit of a challenge in spots.
This difficulty comes partially from the platforming but also, as someone coming back to a 3-D Zelda game after playing Skyward Sword, from aiming and firing the bow with an analog stick and a button.
It's a lot more difficult to aim accurately with that system after being able to just point and shoot, as you can in Skyward Sword since there's an extra delay between you and your target. Rather than being able to just look and shoot you need to look, move your bow into place and then fire. It might not sound like much, but it can really take some re-adjustment, adding that second step back into the equation.
The Tower's boss nicely caps off the experience of playing through it, too. Though, having the stone head automatically snort out arrows whenever you run out really takes the pressure off. It makes me wonder why the hands couldn't pound the ground every now and then, shaking debris from the ceiling, debris which periodically had a few arrows in it. Plus, such an attack would really complete the call back to Bongo Bongo from the Shadow Temple in Ocarina of Time.
This difficulty comes partially from the platforming but also, as someone coming back to a 3-D Zelda game after playing Skyward Sword, from aiming and firing the bow with an analog stick and a button.
It's a lot more difficult to aim accurately with that system after being able to just point and shoot, as you can in Skyward Sword since there's an extra delay between you and your target. Rather than being able to just look and shoot you need to look, move your bow into place and then fire. It might not sound like much, but it can really take some re-adjustment, adding that second step back into the equation.
The Tower's boss nicely caps off the experience of playing through it, too. Though, having the stone head automatically snort out arrows whenever you run out really takes the pressure off. It makes me wonder why the hands couldn't pound the ground every now and then, shaking debris from the ceiling, debris which periodically had a few arrows in it. Plus, such an attack would really complete the call back to Bongo Bongo from the Shadow Temple in Ocarina of Time.
A History that Never Was
Hyrule Historia is a must for anyone who calls themselves a Zelda fan. It's true that it gives a bit too much space to Skyward Sword, but the coverage of the other games is greatly appreciated. Though, I wonder if maybe it's been so well received because instruction manuals no longer have as much trivia/concept art as they did in the days of the NES, and SNES.
However, none of those manuals ever had a comic in the back of them.
Compared to the full-bodied manga done by the two-lady team of Akira Hinakawa, that found at the back of the Historia's quite short, but the art is just as sweeping as any of the full-volume counterparts. And the story reads like something that could be a cutscene from Skyward Sword or another game in itself. Which makes fine sense, since the Zelda games keep getting deeper and deeper into that world's past. Hopefully the Wii U game bucks this trend, as we've gone back far enough, for now.
However, none of those manuals ever had a comic in the back of them.
Compared to the full-bodied manga done by the two-lady team of Akira Hinakawa, that found at the back of the Historia's quite short, but the art is just as sweeping as any of the full-volume counterparts. And the story reads like something that could be a cutscene from Skyward Sword or another game in itself. Which makes fine sense, since the Zelda games keep getting deeper and deeper into that world's past. Hopefully the Wii U game bucks this trend, as we've gone back far enough, for now.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Time Flattens When Travelling Through It
I noticed something rather odd playing through Radiant Historia, today. For a game that deals with time travel it really doesn't give a strong sense of time passing.
Part of this is, no doubt, the game's lack of any distinction between day and night (Stocke and co. met Raul at night, and it looked exactly like daylight). But, more importantly, I think, is that there aren't very many side views of the world. What I mean is that there aren't NPCs who tell you much about the world aside from the odd tidbit about this or that character or this or that opinion. The impression that this leaves is that events aren't happening in time, but are instead just piling up on one another.
What really triggered this realization for me is that after spending maybe half-an-hour going through events General Hugo won a major battle on Gran Plain - effectively ending the conflict on the Alistel/Granorg front. The game explains that Hugo and Granorg's Count Selvan are working together at something as explanation for this smooth victory, but even with such co-operation, ending the war so quickly seems like just another event added to the pile. It doesn't feel like something that happened in time, only in space.
Another reason for the apparent flatness of time in Radiant Historia is that you never really play through major scenes. In Chrono Trigger, you were there at the Battle of Zenan Bridge, you were there when the Enlightened ones complete the Ocean Palace and then raise it into the sky, you were there when Lavos falls from space. This presence at major events makes the game's story larger than life, and so far, this just hasn't happened with Radiant Historia.
Nonetheless, what the game's offered so far is more than enough to keep me sticking around - waiting for the big one.
Part of this is, no doubt, the game's lack of any distinction between day and night (Stocke and co. met Raul at night, and it looked exactly like daylight). But, more importantly, I think, is that there aren't very many side views of the world. What I mean is that there aren't NPCs who tell you much about the world aside from the odd tidbit about this or that character or this or that opinion. The impression that this leaves is that events aren't happening in time, but are instead just piling up on one another.
What really triggered this realization for me is that after spending maybe half-an-hour going through events General Hugo won a major battle on Gran Plain - effectively ending the conflict on the Alistel/Granorg front. The game explains that Hugo and Granorg's Count Selvan are working together at something as explanation for this smooth victory, but even with such co-operation, ending the war so quickly seems like just another event added to the pile. It doesn't feel like something that happened in time, only in space.
Another reason for the apparent flatness of time in Radiant Historia is that you never really play through major scenes. In Chrono Trigger, you were there at the Battle of Zenan Bridge, you were there when the Enlightened ones complete the Ocean Palace and then raise it into the sky, you were there when Lavos falls from space. This presence at major events makes the game's story larger than life, and so far, this just hasn't happened with Radiant Historia.
Nonetheless, what the game's offered so far is more than enough to keep me sticking around - waiting for the big one.
And the Curtain Closes
The Two Gentlemen of Verona may as well have never have ended. It's not that it was a particularly grand play in terms of its plot. It may be jam-packed with great comedy, but its character interactions aren't particularly novel or touching (except, perhaps Speed's with his dog Crab).
Why it shouldn't have ended is simply because it doesn't end as almost all other Shakespeare plays end: with the character who wields the most power saying something conclusive in a couplet. The Two Gentlemen of Verona ends instead, with the de facto hero, Valentine uttering some words. That's it. Having been taught and having experienced Shakespeare's trademark ending device so many times, it really feels like The Two Gentlemen of Verona has an extra, lost scene.
In spite of its marks of being an early work, it still shines as something Shakespeare wrote. The plot is solid, though safe, the characters are fun to listen to, and the comedy is laugh of (or chuckle) out loud quality. If you're looking to brush up your Shakespeare, The Two Gentlemen of Verona is a fine pick - especially if you want to see what the Bard was like when he started out.
Why it shouldn't have ended is simply because it doesn't end as almost all other Shakespeare plays end: with the character who wields the most power saying something conclusive in a couplet. The Two Gentlemen of Verona ends instead, with the de facto hero, Valentine uttering some words. That's it. Having been taught and having experienced Shakespeare's trademark ending device so many times, it really feels like The Two Gentlemen of Verona has an extra, lost scene.
In spite of its marks of being an early work, it still shines as something Shakespeare wrote. The plot is solid, though safe, the characters are fun to listen to, and the comedy is laugh of (or chuckle) out loud quality. If you're looking to brush up your Shakespeare, The Two Gentlemen of Verona is a fine pick - especially if you want to see what the Bard was like when he started out.
Friday, April 26, 2013
A Wolf in Knight's Clothing
Twilight Princess can keep its realistic, heavy-armoured, rapier-using ones. Link's Awakening can have its tiny stabbing sprites. Yes, I'm talking about Darknuts, definitely my favourite monster in the Zelda series.
For all intents and purposes, they're just armoured, sword-wielding soldiers, but this is all that's necessary. No other enemy really lives up to the potential for one-on-one combat. No other enemy is so engaging when first encountered, or so difficult to fight off when in numbers. Darknuts really are the greatest of regular opponents whenever they appear in Zelda games. Their variation in The Wind Waker, also adds a curious dimension.
Sure, they're more cartoony, in keeping with the art style. And they're a bit formulaic to fight if you know what you're doing. But, unlike any other Darknut, you're actually shown what's inside all of that armour in The Wind Waker. And what is? A wolf.
This makes great sense, since Moblins, Ganon's classic minions of choice appear in this game. Plus, though it may not be considered canonical by some, there was at least one enemy wolf monster in the CD-i Zelda games (popularly known as the "Dark Triforce," by Zelda fans).
Even if you deny that those strange asides have any bearing on the main series, the Wolfos from Ocarina of Time, thousands of years after appearing in that game, could have grown in Ganon's esteem. Not to mention, they may also have evolved to a point where they became completely bipedal and interested in martial arts. Such an evolutionary step may even have been necessary to adapt to the flooded world in which The Wind Waker takes place.
For all intents and purposes, they're just armoured, sword-wielding soldiers, but this is all that's necessary. No other enemy really lives up to the potential for one-on-one combat. No other enemy is so engaging when first encountered, or so difficult to fight off when in numbers. Darknuts really are the greatest of regular opponents whenever they appear in Zelda games. Their variation in The Wind Waker, also adds a curious dimension.
Sure, they're more cartoony, in keeping with the art style. And they're a bit formulaic to fight if you know what you're doing. But, unlike any other Darknut, you're actually shown what's inside all of that armour in The Wind Waker. And what is? A wolf.
This makes great sense, since Moblins, Ganon's classic minions of choice appear in this game. Plus, though it may not be considered canonical by some, there was at least one enemy wolf monster in the CD-i Zelda games (popularly known as the "Dark Triforce," by Zelda fans).
Even if you deny that those strange asides have any bearing on the main series, the Wolfos from Ocarina of Time, thousands of years after appearing in that game, could have grown in Ganon's esteem. Not to mention, they may also have evolved to a point where they became completely bipedal and interested in martial arts. Such an evolutionary step may even have been necessary to adapt to the flooded world in which The Wind Waker takes place.
A Dog and His Boy
The predictable play has taken a turn. One nicely suited to such a romance story, as we see Valentine fall in with a rough crowd.
But that's not the highlight of act four. Oh no. The high point of act four comes in with Speed and his dog Crab. Act four scene four opens with Speed talking to Crab about masters and servants in a cleverly doubling way. What's so winning about this brief section, though, is the way that, even 450+ years later, the deeply caring way in which Speed talks to Crab resonates and endears them both all the more.
The introduction to The Two Gentleman of Verona warned that the dog was a scene stealer, and since there would likely have been a live dog on stage (making for a merry display of a trick of its that Speed mentions, perhaps) during performances, this scene would have been all the more touching and comical.
There's some early Merchant of Venice in this act as well. At least, insofar as its one of Shakespeare's early uses of the trope of the cross-dressed lover spying on and speaking to the other lover.
Though, it's very clear that this is an early play based on the scenes between cross-dressed Julia and Proteus, since she isn't as power driven or mischievous as Portia and Nerissa in the Merchant of Venice. Instead, Julia uses her disguise to get close to Proteus and learn his state, and then to assess Silvia, though in such a way that she becomes suspicious of Proteus' new messenger.
But that's not the highlight of act four. Oh no. The high point of act four comes in with Speed and his dog Crab. Act four scene four opens with Speed talking to Crab about masters and servants in a cleverly doubling way. What's so winning about this brief section, though, is the way that, even 450+ years later, the deeply caring way in which Speed talks to Crab resonates and endears them both all the more.
The introduction to The Two Gentleman of Verona warned that the dog was a scene stealer, and since there would likely have been a live dog on stage (making for a merry display of a trick of its that Speed mentions, perhaps) during performances, this scene would have been all the more touching and comical.
There's some early Merchant of Venice in this act as well. At least, insofar as its one of Shakespeare's early uses of the trope of the cross-dressed lover spying on and speaking to the other lover.
Though, it's very clear that this is an early play based on the scenes between cross-dressed Julia and Proteus, since she isn't as power driven or mischievous as Portia and Nerissa in the Merchant of Venice. Instead, Julia uses her disguise to get close to Proteus and learn his state, and then to assess Silvia, though in such a way that she becomes suspicious of Proteus' new messenger.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Shuffling Parties
Giving you a shuffled party really changes battle tactics in Radiant Historia. With Aht and Gafka with me, gone are the days of pushing enemies together before launching lightning spells at them. Instead, the closest thing to that are Aht's traps.
Using the trap technique, Aht sets an elemental attack down on an empty space and when a monster setps on it the spell is triggered. It's neat, sure, but this set up really lacks the overall balance of the Stocke, Raynie, Marco line-up I had for what seemed like most of the game.
Of course, therein lies the challenge, especially since enemies can now summon more monsters to battle.
Using the trap technique, Aht sets an elemental attack down on an empty space and when a monster setps on it the spell is triggered. It's neat, sure, but this set up really lacks the overall balance of the Stocke, Raynie, Marco line-up I had for what seemed like most of the game.
Of course, therein lies the challenge, especially since enemies can now summon more monsters to battle.
The Two Servants of Verona
The third act of The Two Gentlemen of Verona came and went extra quickly. All the same, it delivered the play's pivotal moment. Proteus has now stepped into the game and is vying for Sylvia's affection. In fact, at the end of act three, Proteus is off to Sylvia's chambers to convince her that Valentine was just a rake so that she can happily agree to her father's choice of Thurio. Of course, Valentine is as smitten with Sylvia as Romeo is with Juliet.
The other Shakespeare staple to be found in the third act is broad comedy. The servants Lance and Speed are the two firing off jokes, but it's also clear that they're no feminists (saying at one point that it's a virtue and no vice for a woman to be "slow in words" (III.i.324)).
The other Shakespeare staple to be found in the third act is broad comedy. The servants Lance and Speed are the two firing off jokes, but it's also clear that they're no feminists (saying at one point that it's a virtue and no vice for a woman to be "slow in words" (III.i.324)).
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Moving Forward down a Broad Hallway
It took some time to rev up to it, but finally - finally - Radiant Historia seems to be properly underway.
Stocke, Sonja and Rosch have escaped from Alistel and are holed up in the Satyros village of Celestia. This kind of shift in place really makes me wish that this game had an open overworld. Though, setting up the proper fences to keep players around where they need to be would be tough. And coming up with enough material to furnish interactions for any timeline or any point thereon would be exhausting.
So the game's system of timeline and a Super Mario World-style overworld gives a manageable kind of freedom. At least from the development side of things. Radiant Historia's a fun game, sure, but it's not something you can expect absolute freedom from. It makes me glad I'm not playing Xenoblade Chronicles in tandem with it - Radiant Historia's practically an interactive choose-your-own-adventure novel compared to that game.
Stocke, Sonja and Rosch have escaped from Alistel and are holed up in the Satyros village of Celestia. This kind of shift in place really makes me wish that this game had an open overworld. Though, setting up the proper fences to keep players around where they need to be would be tough. And coming up with enough material to furnish interactions for any timeline or any point thereon would be exhausting.
So the game's system of timeline and a Super Mario World-style overworld gives a manageable kind of freedom. At least from the development side of things. Radiant Historia's a fun game, sure, but it's not something you can expect absolute freedom from. It makes me glad I'm not playing Xenoblade Chronicles in tandem with it - Radiant Historia's practically an interactive choose-your-own-adventure novel compared to that game.
The Triangle and the "Servants"
Act two of The Two Gentlemen of Verona makes it quite clear that this is an early work of Shakespeare's. The wordplay flashes, and the comedy is quite rich. But the plot of it has none of the complications of his later works.
Proteus has come to Milan, and meets with Valentine and Sylvia. He becomes smitten with Sylvia and resolves himself to be Valentine's rival for her affections. There is a third man, the one Sylvia's father favours, named Thurio, but so far he's just been something of a pin cushion for Valentine's jokes (as well as some of Sylvia's).
The edition that I'm reading doesn't have any on-page glosses, so I'm not sure if there's a varied meaning to Sylvia's use of "servant" here, but I do wonder what's going on class-wise within this love triangle. She especially refers to Valentine and Proteus as servants, and that is indeed what they came to court to be. Yet, at least Proteus is from a distinguished family, so "servant" could just be a term for someone newly come to court.
Proteus has come to Milan, and meets with Valentine and Sylvia. He becomes smitten with Sylvia and resolves himself to be Valentine's rival for her affections. There is a third man, the one Sylvia's father favours, named Thurio, but so far he's just been something of a pin cushion for Valentine's jokes (as well as some of Sylvia's).
The edition that I'm reading doesn't have any on-page glosses, so I'm not sure if there's a varied meaning to Sylvia's use of "servant" here, but I do wonder what's going on class-wise within this love triangle. She especially refers to Valentine and Proteus as servants, and that is indeed what they came to court to be. Yet, at least Proteus is from a distinguished family, so "servant" could just be a term for someone newly come to court.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
"The Gods," Spiritual, and Actual Successors
Did I miss something?
Aren't the deities of Hyrule God*esses*?
Then why is everything in The Wind Waker "of the gods"?
Maybe it's just staying true to the original Japanese. I'm not sure when in the life of the Legend of Zelda story and world the goddesses Din, Nayru, and Farore were invented (maybe the Hyrule Historia can tell me), but it must've been after A Link to the Past, since that game's Japanese title literally translates as "The Power of the Gods." Could the use of "gods" in The Wind Waker just be another nod to the SNES classic?
Even when I first played The Wind Waker its structure reminded me greatly of A Link to the Past. You've got a mysterious wizard rounding up young maidens, three things to collect before you make a world changing discovery (and get the Master Sword), then you go through further dungeons, gather a great power, and finally face off against a version of Ganon. Shy of being the sequel to A Link to the Past, The Wind Waker is definitely its spiritual successor.
This fact makes me wonder all the more about how Eiji Aonuma and the Zelda team are going to make a direct successor to A Link to the Past. My suggestion: Bring back the magic bar and all the magic that was taken out of A Link to the Past and Ocarina of Time due to the SNES' and Nintendo 64's limitations. And, to those worried about spells like Ether or Bombos being over powered game-breakers, Link to the Past 2's use of depth could really even things out.
Aren't the deities of Hyrule God*esses*?
Then why is everything in The Wind Waker "of the gods"?
Maybe it's just staying true to the original Japanese. I'm not sure when in the life of the Legend of Zelda story and world the goddesses Din, Nayru, and Farore were invented (maybe the Hyrule Historia can tell me), but it must've been after A Link to the Past, since that game's Japanese title literally translates as "The Power of the Gods." Could the use of "gods" in The Wind Waker just be another nod to the SNES classic?
Even when I first played The Wind Waker its structure reminded me greatly of A Link to the Past. You've got a mysterious wizard rounding up young maidens, three things to collect before you make a world changing discovery (and get the Master Sword), then you go through further dungeons, gather a great power, and finally face off against a version of Ganon. Shy of being the sequel to A Link to the Past, The Wind Waker is definitely its spiritual successor.
This fact makes me wonder all the more about how Eiji Aonuma and the Zelda team are going to make a direct successor to A Link to the Past. My suggestion: Bring back the magic bar and all the magic that was taken out of A Link to the Past and Ocarina of Time due to the SNES' and Nintendo 64's limitations. And, to those worried about spells like Ether or Bombos being over powered game-breakers, Link to the Past 2's use of depth could really even things out.
Taking a Break for the Bard
Since it's on my book list as a periodical read and the Bard's birthday is believed to be today, I'm going to interrupt my reading list with a play. The first in the second edition of the Wells and Taylor Complete Works of Shakespeare: The Two Gentlemen of Verona.
The play's summary makes it sound like most other plays of the 16th and 17th centuries. It's framed as a story of love and youth and friendship, themes that resound from John Lyly's Gallathea to Shakespeare's own The Tempest. The first act certainly makes it seem so, too, as we follow Valentine and Proteus during their parting and seemingly inevitable reunion.
Although the summary also warns that this play shows some heavy experimentation and the caution of an early attempt at playwriting, I'm still hopeful that Sylvia, the love interest, will be an incredible character. She looks like a major player in act two, so we'll soon see about her.
The play's summary makes it sound like most other plays of the 16th and 17th centuries. It's framed as a story of love and youth and friendship, themes that resound from John Lyly's Gallathea to Shakespeare's own The Tempest. The first act certainly makes it seem so, too, as we follow Valentine and Proteus during their parting and seemingly inevitable reunion.
Although the summary also warns that this play shows some heavy experimentation and the caution of an early attempt at playwriting, I'm still hopeful that Sylvia, the love interest, will be an incredible character. She looks like a major player in act two, so we'll soon see about her.
Monday, April 22, 2013
There's Music, too
Along with books and video games, I periodically listen to music. Recently I picked up the newest offering from They Might Be Giants, "Nanobots," and was interviewed about it. Click here for Malachi Constant Jr.'s review, and scroll down on that page to find his interview with me.
Interesting Times
At long last, Radiant Historia is becoming very interesting!
The time travel mechanic has helped keep things pretty non-linear, but the closed circuit overworld has been limited up to now. Of course, since Stocke's now being hunted by General Hugo since he knows that Stocke has figured him out, Stocke will have to find a good hiding place. So - I should finally be on my way to a town other than Alistel. I just need to grab Rosch, first.
Along with the latest plot developments, there are finally some hanging threads, too.
Raynie and Marco were parted with in the last mission, left to deal with Granorg soldiers. They have yet to turn up again.
Rosch was critically wounded in the last battle, as well. It's unclear whether or not he'll pull through - especially because Stocke is going to take him with him out of Alistel.
And Stocke has agreed to return to work under Heiss. But, Stocke, in his anger over Heiss' conniving with Hugo, fought him (the first boss fight with a fresh new character model in a while).
I can only hope the other timeline gets just as interesting after you've collected that wood.
The time travel mechanic has helped keep things pretty non-linear, but the closed circuit overworld has been limited up to now. Of course, since Stocke's now being hunted by General Hugo since he knows that Stocke has figured him out, Stocke will have to find a good hiding place. So - I should finally be on my way to a town other than Alistel. I just need to grab Rosch, first.
Along with the latest plot developments, there are finally some hanging threads, too.
Raynie and Marco were parted with in the last mission, left to deal with Granorg soldiers. They have yet to turn up again.
Rosch was critically wounded in the last battle, as well. It's unclear whether or not he'll pull through - especially because Stocke is going to take him with him out of Alistel.
And Stocke has agreed to return to work under Heiss. But, Stocke, in his anger over Heiss' conniving with Hugo, fought him (the first boss fight with a fresh new character model in a while).
I can only hope the other timeline gets just as interesting after you've collected that wood.
An Ending leading to a Beginning (and a Review)
21st Century Hippies closes with a few case studies and a few brief profiles. Through this final stretch, Vowles recovers from the lull that was the Poverty and HIV/AIDS chapters. Not that their content was lacking, but the delivery of that content was bogged down by statistics which seem to have boggled Vowles' mind while writing as much as they bogged down my reading.
Nonetheless, Vowles' conversational tone returns to its full here, making the final chapters of the book as easy to read as the opening ones. Those patches where it becomes convoluted (but not because of statistic overload) are either due to what seems to be the book's overarching attempt to sound academic as well as casual, or an errant bit of punctuation. These patches, are few and far between after the book proper begins, however.
Throughout this book, Vowles writes with an easy conviction, and his copious references show that he is well versed in his subject. For some of his case studies and profiles he also draws on his own experience and work history. This is an excellent move, since it gives the reader a sense of what actually happens on the ground as an activist.
However, as with much of the other great information that Vowles' provides, he does not give copious amounts of detail. He certainly knows his stuff and has a great deal of experience to draw from, but as is suggested by his opening ambition to write about all of activism as represented by his five categories, this book is more of a general primer than an in-depth study.
With that in mind, it is an excellent introduction to activism, and Vowles' "take-action" steps are great jumping off points for those interested. His numerous footnotes also make it easy for readers looking to learn more to do so.
Kevin Vowles' 21st Century Hippies is dogged by some consistent editorial errors ("underscored" being used for "understated" being the worst), but on the whole these are minor issues that do not distract from Vowles' cause. His style and knowledge come together to create a great introductory book for anyone interested in activism, but unsure of where or how to start.
Nonetheless, Vowles' conversational tone returns to its full here, making the final chapters of the book as easy to read as the opening ones. Those patches where it becomes convoluted (but not because of statistic overload) are either due to what seems to be the book's overarching attempt to sound academic as well as casual, or an errant bit of punctuation. These patches, are few and far between after the book proper begins, however.
Throughout this book, Vowles writes with an easy conviction, and his copious references show that he is well versed in his subject. For some of his case studies and profiles he also draws on his own experience and work history. This is an excellent move, since it gives the reader a sense of what actually happens on the ground as an activist.
However, as with much of the other great information that Vowles' provides, he does not give copious amounts of detail. He certainly knows his stuff and has a great deal of experience to draw from, but as is suggested by his opening ambition to write about all of activism as represented by his five categories, this book is more of a general primer than an in-depth study.
With that in mind, it is an excellent introduction to activism, and Vowles' "take-action" steps are great jumping off points for those interested. His numerous footnotes also make it easy for readers looking to learn more to do so.
Kevin Vowles' 21st Century Hippies is dogged by some consistent editorial errors ("underscored" being used for "understated" being the worst), but on the whole these are minor issues that do not distract from Vowles' cause. His style and knowledge come together to create a great introductory book for anyone interested in activism, but unsure of where or how to start.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
The Soon to be Tower
Collecting the pearls and putting them in place was always a bit of a chore. One similar to taking out the garbage in its ease, but also in its gnawing smallness. Sailing around to the triangle islands will be quick, yet fighting off the Seahats that surround the islands will slow it down substantially. My bomb eye's still not what it was, and the arrows await in the tower that will rise once I've finished with the pearls.
With that in mind, it might be an idea to dust off the old GBA and connection cable so that I can work through Tingle's story in that dungeon. Why not, right? After all, I do find his character strangely compelling.
With that in mind, it might be an idea to dust off the old GBA and connection cable so that I can work through Tingle's story in that dungeon. Why not, right? After all, I do find his character strangely compelling.
Reading through a Lull
Vowles writes well and very judiciously avoids inflammatory rhetoric of the sort most often associated with stereotypical activists. He presents information and then appeals to readers' reason, rather than their emotions. Unfortunately, the bluntest of information - statistics - dampen Vowles' voice and the power of his writing significantly.
While writing about Poverty and HIV/AIDS prevention he relies too heavily on stats, presenting a situation that seems far too gargantuan to have any effect on. But that's not the end of the damage these numbers do. The prevalence of stats in these chapters also seems to have negatively affected the writing, since it becomes disjointed and convoluted where once it was straightforward and fairly clear.
As the final stretch of 21st Century Hippies appears on the horizon, however, I have high hopes for a return to form.
While writing about Poverty and HIV/AIDS prevention he relies too heavily on stats, presenting a situation that seems far too gargantuan to have any effect on. But that's not the end of the damage these numbers do. The prevalence of stats in these chapters also seems to have negatively affected the writing, since it becomes disjointed and convoluted where once it was straightforward and fairly clear.
As the final stretch of 21st Century Hippies appears on the horizon, however, I have high hopes for a return to form.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
A Better Bookmark for the White Chronicle
Radiant Historia is a curious marriage of two opposites. On the one hand it is an in-depth J-RPG of high calibre. On the other, it's compartmentalized in such a way that nicely suits the temporary handheld play style. In an ideal world, it would be both simultaneously, but the combination of these two things is more often at odds with itself than working in harmony.
The game's overall system of time travelling between nodes on a set story makes it perfect for on the go gaming, but, especially once you get into the thick of things, the distance between nodes is still made up of RPG content. In other words, getting to a certain point to change a timeline can be more time consuming than you may expect. Add to that the paucity of save spots in many RPGs, and you've got a recipe for play sessions that more often than not run a little long.
Though, that's not to say it's a bad game. I'm still working my way through it (of course), and it continues to be interesting. But its core time travel mechanic time and again is at odds with its two central systems: Its battle system (since any efficiency in battles takes turns to execute rather than single, sweeping attacks) and its save system .
If the game had a "Suspend Game" option, like the sort of thing you find in some RTS games, there would be no problem. Any session that looked like it was running long could be cut precisely and then picked up again. And, since the game's time travel involves a lot of back-and-forth-ing as it is, it would be quite difficult to lose your place in the story entirely.
Such a system would save a lot of frustration, frustration that builds because the game's great, but even more time consuming than a much more linear RPG.
The game's overall system of time travelling between nodes on a set story makes it perfect for on the go gaming, but, especially once you get into the thick of things, the distance between nodes is still made up of RPG content. In other words, getting to a certain point to change a timeline can be more time consuming than you may expect. Add to that the paucity of save spots in many RPGs, and you've got a recipe for play sessions that more often than not run a little long.
Though, that's not to say it's a bad game. I'm still working my way through it (of course), and it continues to be interesting. But its core time travel mechanic time and again is at odds with its two central systems: Its battle system (since any efficiency in battles takes turns to execute rather than single, sweeping attacks) and its save system .
If the game had a "Suspend Game" option, like the sort of thing you find in some RTS games, there would be no problem. Any session that looked like it was running long could be cut precisely and then picked up again. And, since the game's time travel involves a lot of back-and-forth-ing as it is, it would be quite difficult to lose your place in the story entirely.
Such a system would save a lot of frustration, frustration that builds because the game's great, but even more time consuming than a much more linear RPG.
Inspired and Overwhelmed
Vowles' sections on causes and ways to be an activist pertaining to the environment are clearly, and deeply researched. He has no trouble whatsoever digging into deep reserves of knowledge, though his focus on opinion leaves only the tip of the iceberg that is this knowledge exposed. Nonetheless, he writes in such a way that sweeps you along.
However, for all of his style and knowledge, Vowles undercuts his own efforts. The purpose of 21st Century Hippies is, after all, to inspire readers to become activists or to rediscover activism.
For, after reading through these two sections, I certainly do feel inspired, and I find myself wondering which "take-action" points best suit my own abilities, but I also feel overwhelmed. There are so many things that need fixing, and though he skirts being alarmist about the consequences of environmental irresponsibility and the prevalence of violence and the socialization of violence in Western society, Vowles still makes the things that need to be changed seem gargantuan.
A world in which we consume only what we need to? A world without war? Vowles is very clearly getting into idealism when he notes such ideas and a proponent or two of them, but he doesn't provide any insight into what a society between the present and such utopias might look like. Such speculation falls outside the ken of his book, but having a mid-way landmark or two would be helpful.
Otherwise, Vowles' book reads well heading into the ninth chapter, and has done wonders for getting my mind onto an activist track. Editorial issues are also much less frequent in these sections.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Ballin' on the High Seas
I guess Link doesn't want to wake his grandma. Going in to see her before talking to Jabun just initiates some heart string plucking dialogue about not wanting to be left alone. Ah well, everyone else seems to be functioning in their normal capacities. Though I can't seem to give knight's crests to Orca just yet.
At any rate, the main thing is that I can now roll up to Tingle's and have maps interpreted. The triforce charts don't appear for a while yet, but in the meantime having the biggest wallet (thanks Outset Forest fairy) means that I can get flush with cash (or should I say, ca$h). Beedle's specials alone require the five thousand rupee capacity after all - since I want to buy those specials out.
At any rate, the main thing is that I can now roll up to Tingle's and have maps interpreted. The triforce charts don't appear for a while yet, but in the meantime having the biggest wallet (thanks Outset Forest fairy) means that I can get flush with cash (or should I say, ca$h). Beedle's specials alone require the five thousand rupee capacity after all - since I want to buy those specials out.
Reading Without Protest
This next book comes all the way from beautiful British Columbia. Written by one Kevin Vowles, it was a gift from the author when he kindly gave me a ride from Victoria International Airport into the city proper. I'd told him that I was a student at the university, and that I was studying English. So, author that he is, Vowles' response was to hand over a copy of his book, with a request to review it. Well, nearly four years later, that review begins now.
21st Century Hippies: Activists in Pursuit of Peace and Social Justice is a book that's easy to dismiss. Its simple cover possibly suggesting that what lay within is just more rambling from your stereotypical free-love promoting, dope-toting, never voting Hippie.
However, Vowles actively seeks to turn this assumption on its head. He does so without directly countering the popular perception, however. Instead, Vowles opts to simply show how much of modern activism had its start with the methods of the Hippies of the 1960s by way of introduction.
21st Century Hippies quickly drops the act of being a history book, though, as it becomes more of an informational "how to" once the five core sections of the book are reached. Vowles takes the field of activism and breaks it into five categories: Human Rights, the Environment, War, Poverty, and HIV/AIDS. Having read the first of these, Vowles' expertise continues to be clear, and, relative to the book's introduction, the editorial issues are fewer.
Keep watch over this blog to find out if he can manage to hold his stride through the remaining four categories.
21st Century Hippies: Activists in Pursuit of Peace and Social Justice is a book that's easy to dismiss. Its simple cover possibly suggesting that what lay within is just more rambling from your stereotypical free-love promoting, dope-toting, never voting Hippie.
However, Vowles actively seeks to turn this assumption on its head. He does so without directly countering the popular perception, however. Instead, Vowles opts to simply show how much of modern activism had its start with the methods of the Hippies of the 1960s by way of introduction.
21st Century Hippies quickly drops the act of being a history book, though, as it becomes more of an informational "how to" once the five core sections of the book are reached. Vowles takes the field of activism and breaks it into five categories: Human Rights, the Environment, War, Poverty, and HIV/AIDS. Having read the first of these, Vowles' expertise continues to be clear, and, relative to the book's introduction, the editorial issues are fewer.
Keep watch over this blog to find out if he can manage to hold his stride through the remaining four categories.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Overworlds on my Mind
Although the permanent night hangs in the sky, my winding course back to Outset was un-interrupted. Aside from by a squid attack that showed me how terrible my aim with the canon's gotten.
Along the way I stopped off with the map fish so that I could chart islands as I went, but I've still filled in less than half of the map. The sea between islands really is as empty as the sky in Skyward Sword, but aside from there being multiple islands, sailing around lends a sense of there being something there to be found. Maybe it's simply because water is more of a something than air. Water is also easier to hide treasure in than air, though being able to remove the rubble in the sky to reveal hidden chests or items would be awesome.
Alas, when it comes to overworlds, The Wind Waker simply trounces Skyward Sword.
Along the way I stopped off with the map fish so that I could chart islands as I went, but I've still filled in less than half of the map. The sea between islands really is as empty as the sky in Skyward Sword, but aside from there being multiple islands, sailing around lends a sense of there being something there to be found. Maybe it's simply because water is more of a something than air. Water is also easier to hide treasure in than air, though being able to remove the rubble in the sky to reveal hidden chests or items would be awesome.
Alas, when it comes to overworlds, The Wind Waker simply trounces Skyward Sword.
Book Swap Special: Blackwell Wraps it Up.
The last few pages of Blackwell's book are where he gives general tips. As is the general theme throughout the 18th century (and well beyond it) advising against passion is at the centre of this. Not in the sense that you should be stoical and blasé about everything that passes your way. No, not at all.
Rather, Blackwell takes the last few pages of his book to advise against losing your temper or being blinded by overpowering emotions. As Blake would write some decades later: "To be in a passion you good may do/But no good if a passion is in you."
The final three lessons have to do with disarming. Looking back, it's a sensible thing to end a lesson book on fencing with, since you need to be a little more than a novice before you can go around grabbing swords by the blade to get them out of your opponent's grasp.
Though, the matter of disarming your opponent works curiously well with keeping your emotions in check. Ultimately, Blackwell ends with the same lesson that's at the heart of so many martial arts: rule yourself so that your actions may be pure.
Rather, Blackwell takes the last few pages of his book to advise against losing your temper or being blinded by overpowering emotions. As Blake would write some decades later: "To be in a passion you good may do/But no good if a passion is in you."
The final three lessons have to do with disarming. Looking back, it's a sensible thing to end a lesson book on fencing with, since you need to be a little more than a novice before you can go around grabbing swords by the blade to get them out of your opponent's grasp.
Though, the matter of disarming your opponent works curiously well with keeping your emotions in check. Ultimately, Blackwell ends with the same lesson that's at the heart of so many martial arts: rule yourself so that your actions may be pure.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Scrutiny from Repetition
As tedious as it is to run around in both time and space, it allows for something that games like Chrono Trigger don't: seeing how events lead into one another not merely for the sake of narrative convenience, but because of cause and effect. Playing the same scenes over and over again and bringing a more informed perspective to them each time really helps you to delineate why things happen.
Looking at events from such informed refreshed perspectives also puts a lot more pressure on the people responsible for the story hanging together.
Plot holes in a story without time travel can maybe have that mechanic close them, but a game like Radiant Historia is almost begging for a few plot holes just because of the intricacy of its time hopping. So far, so good though. This is possibly because the story hasn't developed into much more than the personal struggle of a soldier or a special agent within a system headed by a theocrat who is quite possibly a fraud. Up to where I am, there haven't been any big philosophical questions or bids to save the world from evil forces/corporations/tyrants.
Funnily enough, the detailed scope of the game's time travel has almost helped to seal up the much smaller scope of the game's story. But we'll so how much longer such things continue.
Looking at events from such informed refreshed perspectives also puts a lot more pressure on the people responsible for the story hanging together.
Plot holes in a story without time travel can maybe have that mechanic close them, but a game like Radiant Historia is almost begging for a few plot holes just because of the intricacy of its time hopping. So far, so good though. This is possibly because the story hasn't developed into much more than the personal struggle of a soldier or a special agent within a system headed by a theocrat who is quite possibly a fraud. Up to where I am, there haven't been any big philosophical questions or bids to save the world from evil forces/corporations/tyrants.
Funnily enough, the detailed scope of the game's time travel has almost helped to seal up the much smaller scope of the game's story. But we'll so how much longer such things continue.
Book Swap Special: Darting Through Blackwell
The lessons in Blackwell's book are, actually, legitimately useful. It's not just a collection of 18th century nonsense as I had thought it might be. The difference in terminology continues to make things a little obscure, but the meat of the lessons is getting through to me.
Faints and darts are the main things taught in lessons six through 10. The dart isn't too badly described. Though, really, based on my prior knowledge of fencing, it's the act of running your foil up and against your opponent's at an angle so as to move their blade out of the way for some sort of attack or faint. In either case, it's a move that needs to be as fast as the name implies, which is why it only involves the arm and wrist. Really, it's a way to press your opponent into giving an opening, or to attacking so that you can give a parry and riposte.
Blackwell's mentioning that to look into their opponent's face and not at their wrist is, to some people, almost as bad as having their opponent's sword in them is a comical bit of truth. His warning against using the dart during the day time or in a close space is also reminiscent of my teacher from out West. The form of a dialogue suits this sort of instruction quite well indeed.
Faints and darts are the main things taught in lessons six through 10. The dart isn't too badly described. Though, really, based on my prior knowledge of fencing, it's the act of running your foil up and against your opponent's at an angle so as to move their blade out of the way for some sort of attack or faint. In either case, it's a move that needs to be as fast as the name implies, which is why it only involves the arm and wrist. Really, it's a way to press your opponent into giving an opening, or to attacking so that you can give a parry and riposte.
Blackwell's mentioning that to look into their opponent's face and not at their wrist is, to some people, almost as bad as having their opponent's sword in them is a comical bit of truth. His warning against using the dart during the day time or in a close space is also reminiscent of my teacher from out West. The form of a dialogue suits this sort of instruction quite well indeed.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
A Picture's Worth a Curious Question
Getting the bombs in The Wind Waker's a bit of a pain, but really not that bad. Plus, it involves some cute cinematics and Tetra being the tough leader that she ought to be even after she's revealed to be Zelda. What's more, getting the bombs allows a rare glimpse into Tetra's cabin.
You find some framed pictures there, each begging the question of why it's there more than the last. That is, so long as you go dead ahead, then look left (or right), look in the remaining direction, and then look left as you leave.
She has a chart of the Triangle Islands that makes an obvious picture of the Triforce, two pages/plates/scenes from the story of the Hero of Time and the flood (of the harmonious world, and of the Hero of Time, respectively), and then a portrait. The chart of the islands makes fine sense, since she's a pirate, and no doubt has trace memories of her true self. The two scenes make sense for a similar reason, perhaps they give comfort because of a strange familiarity. But the portrait is of nothing ever seen before.
As can be seen in the photo (from the Zelda Wiki), it's a portrait of a woman sitting in what looks like a rather important chair. This is thought to be Tetra's mother, the pirates' former captain, and the one who had entrusted the Triforce to Tetra. This sequence of events raises one big question for me: If her mother wasn't Zelda, why is Tetra Zelda? Is there a Zelda born only when there's a Link born?
Since most of the games are at least 100 years (or so) apart, then it's clear that not every ancestor of Link and Zelda becomes the next Link and Zelda, but then what determines those who do? Are Zelda and Link (re)born each time in response to the rise of Ganon? Is it the encroaching darkness that forces the light to shine brighter?
If it is the case that Ganon needs to threaten Hyrule for Link and Zelda to appear, then why hasn't there been a game where we have a pretender Link or a pretender Zelda? What would happen if someone began to spread the rumour that they were the legendary princess or hero during a time of absolute peace? Would that cause Ganon to rise? Or simply an uproar among the populous and a possible civil war of sorts?
The Legend of Zelda games have always been about similar stories but varied mechanics. This is fine (and has resulted in some real gems), but maybe as a break between innovative gameplay or control schemes they could release a Zelda where the story shifted somewhat. It might set a dangerous precedent, but it'd also have the potential to be as, or more, incredible than the much-lauded Ocarina of Time.
You find some framed pictures there, each begging the question of why it's there more than the last. That is, so long as you go dead ahead, then look left (or right), look in the remaining direction, and then look left as you leave.
She has a chart of the Triangle Islands that makes an obvious picture of the Triforce, two pages/plates/scenes from the story of the Hero of Time and the flood (of the harmonious world, and of the Hero of Time, respectively), and then a portrait. The chart of the islands makes fine sense, since she's a pirate, and no doubt has trace memories of her true self. The two scenes make sense for a similar reason, perhaps they give comfort because of a strange familiarity. But the portrait is of nothing ever seen before.
As can be seen in the photo (from the Zelda Wiki), it's a portrait of a woman sitting in what looks like a rather important chair. This is thought to be Tetra's mother, the pirates' former captain, and the one who had entrusted the Triforce to Tetra. This sequence of events raises one big question for me: If her mother wasn't Zelda, why is Tetra Zelda? Is there a Zelda born only when there's a Link born?
Since most of the games are at least 100 years (or so) apart, then it's clear that not every ancestor of Link and Zelda becomes the next Link and Zelda, but then what determines those who do? Are Zelda and Link (re)born each time in response to the rise of Ganon? Is it the encroaching darkness that forces the light to shine brighter?
If it is the case that Ganon needs to threaten Hyrule for Link and Zelda to appear, then why hasn't there been a game where we have a pretender Link or a pretender Zelda? What would happen if someone began to spread the rumour that they were the legendary princess or hero during a time of absolute peace? Would that cause Ganon to rise? Or simply an uproar among the populous and a possible civil war of sorts?
The Legend of Zelda games have always been about similar stories but varied mechanics. This is fine (and has resulted in some real gems), but maybe as a break between innovative gameplay or control schemes they could release a Zelda where the story shifted somewhat. It might set a dangerous precedent, but it'd also have the potential to be as, or more, incredible than the much-lauded Ocarina of Time.
Book Swap Special: Blackwell for Beowulf
One of the guys I work with at my day job is seriously into martial arts. So, when he found out that I've had some fencing experience, he became very interested in my helping him out. Part of this help involves me piecing together a few mysteries of technique (and maybe theory) to be found in Henry Blackwell's The English Fencing-Master (or, the compleat tuterour of the small sword...In a dialogue between master and scholar. Adorned with several curious postures.).
However, before I could just grab a copy from Eighteenth Century Collections Online (ECCO), he brought the book in. Knowing about his interest in medieval epic poetry, I brought in one of my copies of Beowulf, and we traded texts.
Having read the first five lessons of Blackwell's book, it's safe to say that my rather casual fencing training wasn't for naught. The talk of Flankanade and Segoone is unfamiliar to me (not to mention the idea of thrusting with the nails down as in a Tierce), but the rest of it adds up.
Along with having a teacher who was more interested in the athletics side of the art (he trained a member of the 2012 Canadian Olympic fencing team, after all), it seems that he was also some 50 years too early for Blackwell to be of perfect relation. Riposte and "Holy Cross" (for the squaring of your upper body) have yet to come up.
However, before I could just grab a copy from Eighteenth Century Collections Online (ECCO), he brought the book in. Knowing about his interest in medieval epic poetry, I brought in one of my copies of Beowulf, and we traded texts.
Having read the first five lessons of Blackwell's book, it's safe to say that my rather casual fencing training wasn't for naught. The talk of Flankanade and Segoone is unfamiliar to me (not to mention the idea of thrusting with the nails down as in a Tierce), but the rest of it adds up.
Along with having a teacher who was more interested in the athletics side of the art (he trained a member of the 2012 Canadian Olympic fencing team, after all), it seems that he was also some 50 years too early for Blackwell to be of perfect relation. Riposte and "Holy Cross" (for the squaring of your upper body) have yet to come up.
Monday, April 15, 2013
A Tingle of Freedom
As much as the game tries to railroad you up to the third dungeon, it just can't keep you away from everything. Since setting sail for Windfall from Greatfish Isle I've picked up the wallet upgrade, freed Tingle, and found the Picto Box. I've got one of the fireflies to upgrade the Picto Box, as well. Now I need only bring it around the shop keeper and I'm set on that front.
As per Tingle, it's definitely worth freeing him. In fact, since you need his sea chart reading skills later on, it's down right necessary. That said, I rather like the character of Tingle. He's strangely an essence of Japan in his dress, style, and backstory. He's like a magical boy from a magical boy anime (if such a thing exists), but without the actual magic.
Plus, he really does have a picture of a cobra stitched on the back of his outfit - just as the Hyrule Historia claims. If you watch the scene that follows on freeing him, you can catch it thanks to the angle. Check out video proof here.
As per Tingle, it's definitely worth freeing him. In fact, since you need his sea chart reading skills later on, it's down right necessary. That said, I rather like the character of Tingle. He's strangely an essence of Japan in his dress, style, and backstory. He's like a magical boy from a magical boy anime (if such a thing exists), but without the actual magic.
Plus, he really does have a picture of a cobra stitched on the back of his outfit - just as the Hyrule Historia claims. If you watch the scene that follows on freeing him, you can catch it thanks to the angle. Check out video proof here.
A Review after Crossing the Hill
Hollander finishes off The Work of Poetry with an entry that breaks his pattern. Where the rest of his featured poets were American, he ends with some words on Geoffrey Hill, of England. Though the same could be said of the previous chapter on May Swenson, Hollander here spends his words in unequivocal praise. And with good reason - his showcase of Geoffrey Hill really does make him sound like an incredible poet whose works are indeed dense.
However, I wonder why other nations weren't represented. Canada certainly has some great poets, and Ireland definitely does (Seamus Heaney, and Derek Mahon spring to mind). That doesn't even touch on works in translation, though that does raise questions about translation that would only join those of a poet's skill that Hollander more than eagerly asks.
On the whole, Hollander's book is an excellent "welcome back" book for anyone who's studied poetry before. He wastes no time re-introducing concepts of meter or structure, and immediately seizes on just what poetry does. However, he also gives an unabashedly positive look at all of the poets he writes about, providing no negative examples. These are important for poetry, since it's sometimes easier to see what works by knowing what doesn't.
Hollander also gives an unfair focus to American and English poets considering his title is "The Work of Poetry" and not "The Work of Poetry in the Modern English Speaking World." He writes of some early modern and ancient poets briefly, but his overarching lack of variety in the poets he writes about undermines somewhat his belief that true poetry is something that can be mined for meaning nearly endlessly. If he believes that it's not necessary to go over such old fields as Chaucer or the early works of Anglo Saxon poetry since all the new corn's been harvested, he does not make this clear.
So, those looking for a refresher course on poetry in general could do better as far as the variety of poets featured is concerned. Those seeking a refresher course in modernist American poetry, though, have picked up just the right title.
However, I wonder why other nations weren't represented. Canada certainly has some great poets, and Ireland definitely does (Seamus Heaney, and Derek Mahon spring to mind). That doesn't even touch on works in translation, though that does raise questions about translation that would only join those of a poet's skill that Hollander more than eagerly asks.
On the whole, Hollander's book is an excellent "welcome back" book for anyone who's studied poetry before. He wastes no time re-introducing concepts of meter or structure, and immediately seizes on just what poetry does. However, he also gives an unabashedly positive look at all of the poets he writes about, providing no negative examples. These are important for poetry, since it's sometimes easier to see what works by knowing what doesn't.
Hollander also gives an unfair focus to American and English poets considering his title is "The Work of Poetry" and not "The Work of Poetry in the Modern English Speaking World." He writes of some early modern and ancient poets briefly, but his overarching lack of variety in the poets he writes about undermines somewhat his belief that true poetry is something that can be mined for meaning nearly endlessly. If he believes that it's not necessary to go over such old fields as Chaucer or the early works of Anglo Saxon poetry since all the new corn's been harvested, he does not make this clear.
So, those looking for a refresher course on poetry in general could do better as far as the variety of poets featured is concerned. Those seeking a refresher course in modernist American poetry, though, have picked up just the right title.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
A Vibrant Dungeon is a Fun Dungeon?
Something that The Wind Waker is strangely missing is the title screen that shows up before for bosses. For whatever reason, they aren't announced in this one. But, whatever the reason, I just trounced what I would call Dread Lotus Mega Baba (the boss of the Forbidden Woods). The fight wasn't a hard one, though it certainly required a lot of timing. Waiting for the boomerang to come back being what made it so, since the tendrils you cut down with your 'rang slowly grow back.
The seed ceremony's definitely one of my favourite scenes in the game, and so a fitting reward for finishing the second dungeon. Though, slowly I'm beginning to remember that the dungeons in The Wind Waker are neither the longest nor the hardest in the Zelda series. Somehow, for all their whimsy and imagination, they just aren't as harrowing as those in Twilight Princess or some of the ones in Skyward Sword. Perhaps the game's graphical style has something to do with that.
That's not to say that The Wind Waker's cell-shaded style reflects its being a kiddie (read easy) game. More along the lines of its colourful artistry being a welcome break from realism and thus making the dungeons more fun, and therefore shorter seeming. Skyward Sword also does a decent job of this, leaving Twilight Princess with the longest feeling dungeons, for the most part. Maybe there is something to graphical styles beyond polygons and definition.
The seed ceremony's definitely one of my favourite scenes in the game, and so a fitting reward for finishing the second dungeon. Though, slowly I'm beginning to remember that the dungeons in The Wind Waker are neither the longest nor the hardest in the Zelda series. Somehow, for all their whimsy and imagination, they just aren't as harrowing as those in Twilight Princess or some of the ones in Skyward Sword. Perhaps the game's graphical style has something to do with that.
That's not to say that The Wind Waker's cell-shaded style reflects its being a kiddie (read easy) game. More along the lines of its colourful artistry being a welcome break from realism and thus making the dungeons more fun, and therefore shorter seeming. Skyward Sword also does a decent job of this, leaving Twilight Princess with the longest feeling dungeons, for the most part. Maybe there is something to graphical styles beyond polygons and definition.
Indirect Clarity
It comes in the second to last chapter, but Hollander finally makes his stance on the difference between poets and versifiers clear. He closes his chapter on May Swenson's poetry with the statement: "the body of a poet's work continues always to grow as we understand it more and more" (298). In other words, the difference is that poets write things that can be mined for meaning (almost) endlessly. Whereas, those who only write verse, write things that sparkle for their rhyme or composition, but that lack depth.
The glimpse of May Swenson's poetry that Hollander provides is intriguing. Not because it's intricate in its form or detailed in its imagery, but because it's so personal in its make up. In this way, it's kind of like the poetry/verse that I've written.
In fact, Swenson and I have a similar philosophy when it comes to writing poetry, Hollander quotes her as saying of her process that she lets "each poem 'make itself'" (292). This free-wheeling quality might be part of what leads Hollander to call her as American as apple pie, but it's simply refreshing to read of a poet who doesn't stress over every line and every word, every meter and every rhyme. It's enough to make an unverified versifier gather up poems and publish a collection.
The glimpse of May Swenson's poetry that Hollander provides is intriguing. Not because it's intricate in its form or detailed in its imagery, but because it's so personal in its make up. In this way, it's kind of like the poetry/verse that I've written.
In fact, Swenson and I have a similar philosophy when it comes to writing poetry, Hollander quotes her as saying of her process that she lets "each poem 'make itself'" (292). This free-wheeling quality might be part of what leads Hollander to call her as American as apple pie, but it's simply refreshing to read of a poet who doesn't stress over every line and every word, every meter and every rhyme. It's enough to make an unverified versifier gather up poems and publish a collection.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
When the Glamour's Gone from Time Travel
I know I've mentioned it before, but the way Radiant Historia is laid out is kind of a pain. It seems that, by design, a game with such a fine detail time travel system (or, at least the need to know fine details to do what must be done) is kind of all over the place. It's true that Stocke is the one constant in all of this, but having to go back through time to advance the story can get tedious.
Also, I think the game may get glitched out if you travel back to the node where you have to collect withered sticks for a fire. I had wanted to push that timeline forward a little bit, but only came up with two, plus the one found in the Mana Sight demonstration, out of five. Perhaps I'll just have to map out Gran Plain to figure out where I need to go to get them all.
At least, so far, the hardest part in the timeline for soldier Stocke is simply knowing when to jump to. Jumping to the most recent node might be where I need to deliver the information about Rosch being lured into a trap that I got off of a Granorg soldier, but then, maybe the second most recent would be better. Time will tell.
A Rough Map to a Poet's Works
At this point, it goes without saying that Hollander's discussion of Elizabeth Bishop's poetry has interested me in it. But the return to matters literary in this chapter may have helped, since there isn't a question of syllables or meter in sight.
The topic, or major concern of her poetry is also of interest to me. Having named the collection that Hollander spends most of the chapter discussing Geography III, and thanks to Hollander's pointing out that there are a one and a two in the sequence, it's clear that Bishop's foci in much of her poetry are space and place. These two ideas are potent, indeed, since they underlie so much of everyday life.
However, much like the vastness of a space represented in miniature on a map, Hollander ultimately acknowledges that Bishop's work deserves much more than a chapter. And I would add that such a writing would get a full reading from me (after having read her poetry, of course).
The topic, or major concern of her poetry is also of interest to me. Having named the collection that Hollander spends most of the chapter discussing Geography III, and thanks to Hollander's pointing out that there are a one and a two in the sequence, it's clear that Bishop's foci in much of her poetry are space and place. These two ideas are potent, indeed, since they underlie so much of everyday life.
However, much like the vastness of a space represented in miniature on a map, Hollander ultimately acknowledges that Bishop's work deserves much more than a chapter. And I would add that such a writing would get a full reading from me (after having read her poetry, of course).
Friday, April 12, 2013
Changing Tactics?
Things have gotten interesting in Radiant Historia. Just when I thought I had the battles down to a science, a few curves have been thrown my way.
First, Raynie learned the "Rush" technique at level 25. This attacks the whole front row of the enemy (likely in one swoop of her spear). Then, at level 26 Marco learned "Trans-Turn," a spell which looks like it has the same effect as the "Change" command. But, since it's a spell, it probably does something ever so slightly different, or at the least allows for a variation on the "Change" tactic.
Add to these developments on my end the fact that enemy formations might actually be important for them. This is something noted when the blue Granorg defenders kept forming into a triangle, though this didn't make them do anything different. Perhaps it means that enemies will soon be able to attack all of my party at once, so long as they're in this formation.
Or, maybe it's just a pointless military trick.
Because the entirety of the soldier timeline has (surprise, surprise) so far taken place on the front lines, I keep expecting there to be some sort of RTS mini-game, or maybe a tower defense sort of thing, like in Final Fantasy VII. But, as I play on, it seems that the battles, though the they're in the classic turn-based RPG style, offer room for strategy enough.
Prophecy and Poets
Robert Penn Warren sounds like a writer with a substantial body of work. Though his work about his 'Audobon' character sounds the most interesting. A series of poems (at least one of which is "long") about a quest for deeper understanding of the world. To me it sounds like a sort of Kino's Journey, but in poetic rather than animated form.
More interestingly, though, is this idea that there's a prophetic cadence. From what I can tell (based on the example poem Hollander used to showcase this cadence) it's a marching sort of beat, very steady and shuffling forward. It's the sort of speech rhythm that you might fall into if you're giving slow, deliberate instruction. And that makes some sense, prophets want to be believed, and that rhythm sounds very authoritative.
I'll need to study this cadence more closely, though - I need to punch up a little something for the sake of my fiction.
More interestingly, though, is this idea that there's a prophetic cadence. From what I can tell (based on the example poem Hollander used to showcase this cadence) it's a marching sort of beat, very steady and shuffling forward. It's the sort of speech rhythm that you might fall into if you're giving slow, deliberate instruction. And that makes some sense, prophets want to be believed, and that rhythm sounds very authoritative.
I'll need to study this cadence more closely, though - I need to punch up a little something for the sake of my fiction.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Double-Teamed
For some reason having to take on two heavy enemies at the same time is proving difficult. Not impossible, but difficult.
After I grabbed the boss key in the Forbidden Woods two Moblins were dropped on me. Neither of them waited their turn, either, like the considerate Lizalfos in Ocarina of Time; they were both fixing for a fight. And that was unfortunate, since I really wanted to grab one of their pole arms and take a few swings at the other with it.
Actually, that's one thing I hope to see the return of in the next Zelda game - the ability to pick up and use enemy weapons. Though, I hope that they can actually be used more extensively than they were in The Wind Waker. Maybe we could see Link actually taking enemy weapons and keeping them.
Heck, I'm sure it's been done before in a Zelda game (or at least implied), but maybe a dungeon item could be picked from a fallen foe (at least a mini-boss, but maybe a rampaging mini-boss made dungeon boss, because of the item/weapon's power). That would be really cool - and besides, who leaves all this cool stuff in these chests scattered around such dangerous places anyway?
After I grabbed the boss key in the Forbidden Woods two Moblins were dropped on me. Neither of them waited their turn, either, like the considerate Lizalfos in Ocarina of Time; they were both fixing for a fight. And that was unfortunate, since I really wanted to grab one of their pole arms and take a few swings at the other with it.
Actually, that's one thing I hope to see the return of in the next Zelda game - the ability to pick up and use enemy weapons. Though, I hope that they can actually be used more extensively than they were in The Wind Waker. Maybe we could see Link actually taking enemy weapons and keeping them.
Heck, I'm sure it's been done before in a Zelda game (or at least implied), but maybe a dungeon item could be picked from a fallen foe (at least a mini-boss, but maybe a rampaging mini-boss made dungeon boss, because of the item/weapon's power). That would be really cool - and besides, who leaves all this cool stuff in these chests scattered around such dangerous places anyway?
Upon Further Inspection
Working my way through the latter half of Hollander's chapter on Marianne Moore, it hit me. There's a vast array of technical things that can be done in poetry. Turning things on rhymes, using enjambment to accentuate story, using rhyme to emphasize stress and change syllable counting. There's just so much there.
This is what reading things over your head is good for, though. It shows you what's on the higher stair that you otherwise can't quite see up to. Combined with an incredible by heart recitation by a local poet at a local writing group last night, the remnants of this chapter have inspired me to try to make my own poetry more technically accomplished.
This is what reading things over your head is good for, though. It shows you what's on the higher stair that you otherwise can't quite see up to. Combined with an incredible by heart recitation by a local poet at a local writing group last night, the remnants of this chapter have inspired me to try to make my own poetry more technically accomplished.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Where Theories Grow Wild
One question that keeps coming up for me as I go through the Forbidden Woods is this: Where are all the plant tentacles coming from? Are they all part of one larger tendril'd beast? Are they just leafy appendages gone wrong?
Watching the moving platforms in the main room of the dungeon, I noticed that even the grass seems to wave from side to side - though there's no wind in the dungeon. The Forbidden Woods are as alive as the Deku Tree itself. And this has me wondering.
If The Wind Waker takes place after the hero is successful (initially) and all of the islands are somehow tied to Hyrule below, is it safe to say that the Forest Haven is really Kokiri Forest? After all, the Great Deku Tree itself says the Koroks (the spirits of the Forest Haven) were once in human form. Of course, I take that to mean that they were once the Kokiri.
Keeping all of that in mind, does that make the Forbidden Woods the Lost Woods? If so, then being flooded has definitely helped out the local flora, and made for the evolution of some fascinating bug life.
But to get back to those plant tentacles, the Forbidden Woods isn't the only place they're seen. There're also some on Bomb Island. So, Kokiri theorizing aside, there are two explanations for the tendrils. One, they're the appendages of some sort of sleeping plant Cthulid Ur-Goddess that are working to keep people from certain things; or, two, they're simply individual plants that have minute feelers above the ground that call up their larger forms whenever someone's about to step on them.
Moore Marianne, less Syllabic Speak
Up to this point, Hollander's been good about keeping the discussion fairly simple. But, once he gets into Marianne Moore, he starts talking about the syllabic qualities of hers and of other poets. This is where my eyes really glaze over and I just try to find the nut of sense within it all. Truly, there's little here except what for me are fragments that can be pieced together so that the whole can be guessed at.
However, though hearing stress is something I've always struggled with, Marianne Moore truly does have some lovely stuff. I mean, I get puns, even if talk of isosyllabic poetry leaves me blinking at the page as if it just did something obscene.
But, that sort of thing's to be expected, really, Hollander does no hand holding in his book, and all of it that zeroes in on syllables and stresses is no exception.
However, though hearing stress is something I've always struggled with, Marianne Moore truly does have some lovely stuff. I mean, I get puns, even if talk of isosyllabic poetry leaves me blinking at the page as if it just did something obscene.
But, that sort of thing's to be expected, really, Hollander does no hand holding in his book, and all of it that zeroes in on syllables and stresses is no exception.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Smooth Sailing From Here
I just finished the hardest part of The Wind Waker. I just made the flight into the Forbidden Woods.
This act is a pretty minor one in the scope of the game, but it's got to be the single act in the whole game that requires the most timing, judgement, and skill. It's just a jump from one platform to another, and from there to another after catching an updraft in the leaf that lets you float and glide, but that second jump is heinous.
What's so tough about it is catching the updraft because it's moving around the island you jump from, sure, but it's also (as far as I can tell) always further than you think it is. Since you need to time your jump so that you float over the updraft and the distance between you and the updraft is hard to judge you really need to watch and work out just how far you are from the thing before making the jump.
Thankfully, by watching the column of wind I'd ride from the side of the island, I was able to properly judge when best to jump and made it into the next dungeon on my second try. In past playthroughs, I remember it taking at least three times as many attempts.
So, from here on in the game gets easier. Far far easier. And, what's more, with the Deku Leaf and the floating ability it bestows, a little bit more of the game has opened up. Once I get the bombs and all three pearls, I'll be able to do just about anything. And that's always the best part of any Zelda game: Unlocking more content not because of a high score or because you brought some bloke fifty lizard scales, but because you can interact with your environment in a new way.
This act is a pretty minor one in the scope of the game, but it's got to be the single act in the whole game that requires the most timing, judgement, and skill. It's just a jump from one platform to another, and from there to another after catching an updraft in the leaf that lets you float and glide, but that second jump is heinous.
What's so tough about it is catching the updraft because it's moving around the island you jump from, sure, but it's also (as far as I can tell) always further than you think it is. Since you need to time your jump so that you float over the updraft and the distance between you and the updraft is hard to judge you really need to watch and work out just how far you are from the thing before making the jump.
Thankfully, by watching the column of wind I'd ride from the side of the island, I was able to properly judge when best to jump and made it into the next dungeon on my second try. In past playthroughs, I remember it taking at least three times as many attempts.
So, from here on in the game gets easier. Far far easier. And, what's more, with the Deku Leaf and the floating ability it bestows, a little bit more of the game has opened up. Once I get the bombs and all three pearls, I'll be able to do just about anything. And that's always the best part of any Zelda game: Unlocking more content not because of a high score or because you brought some bloke fifty lizard scales, but because you can interact with your environment in a new way.
A Community of Stories
The Spoon River Anthology sounds like a fascinating read. It's definitely apparent that Hollander has a great deal of enthusiasm for the now nearly 100 year old collection of epitaphs, but that enthusiasm proves infectious.
Plus, as a sketch of a small town drawn in lines of character interaction definitely does seem quintessentially American. A group of people working together for some common purpose. Perhaps that purpose is a story, since all of the collection's characters are dead and so they can't exactly march in any activist cause.
More so, it's things like the Spoon River Anthology (based on Hollander's description of it as a collection of overlapping and interlocking stories) that laid the ground work for TV shows like Twin Peaks. After all, what is the oddity at the center of Twin Peaks if not the co-existence of so many varied and unique individuals that nonetheless form together into a mysterious town full of secrets?
Plus, as a sketch of a small town drawn in lines of character interaction definitely does seem quintessentially American. A group of people working together for some common purpose. Perhaps that purpose is a story, since all of the collection's characters are dead and so they can't exactly march in any activist cause.
More so, it's things like the Spoon River Anthology (based on Hollander's description of it as a collection of overlapping and interlocking stories) that laid the ground work for TV shows like Twin Peaks. After all, what is the oddity at the center of Twin Peaks if not the co-existence of so many varied and unique individuals that nonetheless form together into a mysterious town full of secrets?
Monday, April 8, 2013
The Risk of Building the Big Picture Plot
Radiant Historia's story looks like it'll be quite fast paced in retrospect. Picking your way through it, though, makes it seem very slow. Because of the game's time travel mechanic, and how integral it is to the development of the story, you don't play through it so much as you build it.
However, it is interesting to build such a plot on parallel lines. At the same time, the special agent timeline has developed almost none of the story, so far. This, so far as I can tell, is because your mission to get into Granorg is long to complete, whereas defending the Sand Fortress is quite quickly over.
Nonetheless, the special agent timeline has you much closer to Heiss, the guy in charge of spec ops, and he's as involved in what's going on behind the scenes as General Hugo. So there's a lot of potential for huge plot developments down that line - hopefully once I reach a plot point down it that plot point is something amazing.
However, it is interesting to build such a plot on parallel lines. At the same time, the special agent timeline has developed almost none of the story, so far. This, so far as I can tell, is because your mission to get into Granorg is long to complete, whereas defending the Sand Fortress is quite quickly over.
Nonetheless, the special agent timeline has you much closer to Heiss, the guy in charge of spec ops, and he's as involved in what's going on behind the scenes as General Hugo. So there's a lot of potential for huge plot developments down that line - hopefully once I reach a plot point down it that plot point is something amazing.
Dropping Names like Mics
At this point Hollander's parade of obscure poets remains interesting, but his analysis of their work is becoming far too populated with name dropping. I understand that it's a good shorthand for whatever characterizes the work of the people referred to, and that it's kind of a secret code to be understood by those who are "learned," but it's not the most welcoming way to write of something.
Of course, such name dropping in a book of poetry theory/criticism is, at the same time, a monument to the place that poetry has in society. That people do it so easily as Hollander makes it clear that there is a healthy body of poets and poetry to be discussed, and that, as with any body, its parts are interconnected. It's something that has yet to be really seen in criticism of other media, like, oh, say, video games.
What I wonder though is whether webs of association will be built up between video games or video games will be accepted as a society-wide legitimate medium first.
Of course, such name dropping in a book of poetry theory/criticism is, at the same time, a monument to the place that poetry has in society. That people do it so easily as Hollander makes it clear that there is a healthy body of poets and poetry to be discussed, and that, as with any body, its parts are interconnected. It's something that has yet to be really seen in criticism of other media, like, oh, say, video games.
What I wonder though is whether webs of association will be built up between video games or video games will be accepted as a society-wide legitimate medium first.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Seeing the Unseen Raises Questions
Learning how to see the invisible was far easier than expected. And, it happened in a far less involved way than I had imagined. Here, I thought that it might be done in a way similar to learning the different field techniques in Golden Sun, but Radiant Historia just gives a cut scene and lets you go on your way.
What's awesome about this new ability, though, is that it gives Stocke the ability to find traps and otherwise invisible chests if he passes near enough to them. So, all of that stuff about the Sand Fortress being empty? Well, it's definitely not the case. There's a treasure chest in every spot you'd expect, and a few more as well. I just wonder if the game will ever explain why there are invisible chests.
I also wonder if, being only about 1/6 through the game (based on how many of the timelines' events and nodes I've gone through) but already getting an upgrade to my cut on the field and what seems to be a flawless "Detect Traps" and "Detect Hidden Objects" skill means that the game is going to seriously unbalance Stocke by the end.
In his quest to change history for the better, will Stocke become some sort of Übermensch?
What's awesome about this new ability, though, is that it gives Stocke the ability to find traps and otherwise invisible chests if he passes near enough to them. So, all of that stuff about the Sand Fortress being empty? Well, it's definitely not the case. There's a treasure chest in every spot you'd expect, and a few more as well. I just wonder if the game will ever explain why there are invisible chests.
I also wonder if, being only about 1/6 through the game (based on how many of the timelines' events and nodes I've gone through) but already getting an upgrade to my cut on the field and what seems to be a flawless "Detect Traps" and "Detect Hidden Objects" skill means that the game is going to seriously unbalance Stocke by the end.
In his quest to change history for the better, will Stocke become some sort of Übermensch?
A Quick Note
Up until this point, I've played a bunch of games simultaneously, and tried to write about all of them. However, to make the video game side of this blog a little more coherent, I've decided to narrow the number of games I'm writing about at any given time (and therefore playing) to two. This change will help me to keep up a steady pace through my backlog list, an end which will be helped by playing one handheld game and one home console game at any given time.
I'm also narrowing the number of games I play at a time to give myself an experience more similar to that of video game reviewers. They don't get to switch games out once they become stuck or weary of or satisfied with what they're reviewing and, since the core purpose of this blog is to keep my analytical powers sharp, sticking with a pair of games to their ends makes sense. Plus, revelations or realizations don't often come without some sort of focus.
Things like "Away Game Specials" are exceptions to this rule. After all, sometimes when I'm away I get the chance to play titles that I don't have, or to play those I do in a different way.
So, as a result of this change, the two games I'm going to be playing at the moment are The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker and Radiant Historia.
I'm also narrowing the number of games I play at a time to give myself an experience more similar to that of video game reviewers. They don't get to switch games out once they become stuck or weary of or satisfied with what they're reviewing and, since the core purpose of this blog is to keep my analytical powers sharp, sticking with a pair of games to their ends makes sense. Plus, revelations or realizations don't often come without some sort of focus.
Things like "Away Game Specials" are exceptions to this rule. After all, sometimes when I'm away I get the chance to play titles that I don't have, or to play those I do in a different way.
So, as a result of this change, the two games I'm going to be playing at the moment are The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker and Radiant Historia.
Reference Points
Only now, some 16 chapters in, am I noticing a trend in Hollander's writing. He's moved away from personal reflection, but the section entitled "The Work of Poets" is really just a showcase of his favourite obscure poets. But that's only a local trend. The larger one is this: Hollander commits the same crime of using vague referents that my MA supervisor constantly busted me for in my own work.
A prime example of Hollander's loose use of nigh blank referents is his "this" that he uses to finish the final paragraph of chapter 16. Using context clues, it seems that his "this" refers to a collection of poetry entitled The Pre-Raphaelites and Their Circle (2nd ed., 1975) - a collection of poetry last outrightly mentioned three pages earlier. A quick reference to the "Yale edition" can be found a page earlier, but I think the point still stands.
There could be an explanation for Hollander's slapdash use of "this," though. Some of these chapters are converted from lectures. In academic speech these gaps between referent and reference are almost to be expected (especially when looking at an academic text quite clearly not meant for any introduction to English lit class). Nonetheless, it's jarring to come across a word like "this" and not immediately know to what it refers.
A prime example of Hollander's loose use of nigh blank referents is his "this" that he uses to finish the final paragraph of chapter 16. Using context clues, it seems that his "this" refers to a collection of poetry entitled The Pre-Raphaelites and Their Circle (2nd ed., 1975) - a collection of poetry last outrightly mentioned three pages earlier. A quick reference to the "Yale edition" can be found a page earlier, but I think the point still stands.
There could be an explanation for Hollander's slapdash use of "this," though. Some of these chapters are converted from lectures. In academic speech these gaps between referent and reference are almost to be expected (especially when looking at an academic text quite clearly not meant for any introduction to English lit class). Nonetheless, it's jarring to come across a word like "this" and not immediately know to what it refers.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Away Game Special: Sonic 3
A Genesis gem, a Sega super-game, a Sonic speed-course. Sonic The Hedgehog 3 is all of these things. It's also an incredibly restrictive game that forces you onto a linear path through levels that are anything but. Of course, it's possible to get everything secret and hidden within the 10 minute time limit. But, without a guide and/or a full day to play through, the game doesn't lend itself to exploration.
And this really bothers me.
It seems that Zelda games and RPGs have really soured me on time attack platformers. So it goes.
What bothers me about this turn in my gaming tastes, though, is that the Sonic games were childhood favourites. Maybe the GameCube controller doesn't offer as smooth an experience as the original Genesis one did? Maybe it's just that I didn't play many platformers between my late elementary school days and now? Whatever the case, Sonic 3's just not the game I remember it being.
Hopefully my more recent backlog holds more titles to my taste.
An Orphean Glimpse
Jean Ingelow, a poet of the 19th century, gets a few pages here, tucked between chapters that run only slightly longer. It sounds like she was among the many Victorians to turn their hand to fantasy tales for children, her great work being Mopsa the Fairy.
From how Hollander writes of the story, it sounds like a standard Victorian fairy tale: children find a fantastic being in real life, go to Fairy Land, sort something out there, and then return, changed. However, that Ingelow included a doppelganger for her hero, Jack, reminds me of Dark Link from the Legend of Zelda games.
And really, why not? When it comes to quest stories, what better enemy can a hero have than his or her shadow?
After all, to go on a quest, a person needs to be able to endure long miles, make do without the comforts of home, face unfamiliar situations, and do things he or she may not otherwise do. You're fighting your shadow from the first step of any journey, so why not turn that into a villain or foil?
Hollander doesn't get into shadows and doubles, though. Instead, he brings up Ingelow to savour her poem "Failure." A sonnet about failure being more interesting than success that turns on the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. It's an entrancing piece that is, itself, almost a portal to another world, another time. If you're curious, or adventurous, give it a read here.
From how Hollander writes of the story, it sounds like a standard Victorian fairy tale: children find a fantastic being in real life, go to Fairy Land, sort something out there, and then return, changed. However, that Ingelow included a doppelganger for her hero, Jack, reminds me of Dark Link from the Legend of Zelda games.
And really, why not? When it comes to quest stories, what better enemy can a hero have than his or her shadow?
After all, to go on a quest, a person needs to be able to endure long miles, make do without the comforts of home, face unfamiliar situations, and do things he or she may not otherwise do. You're fighting your shadow from the first step of any journey, so why not turn that into a villain or foil?
Hollander doesn't get into shadows and doubles, though. Instead, he brings up Ingelow to savour her poem "Failure." A sonnet about failure being more interesting than success that turns on the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. It's an entrancing piece that is, itself, almost a portal to another world, another time. If you're curious, or adventurous, give it a read here.
Friday, April 5, 2013
Their Buzz is worse than their Sting
So the bees in front of the bee hive in the Steamy Marsh are about as tough as, well, bees. Even without my large bodyguard, I'd have been able to tap my way through.
Once inside, Tingle's told about the bees' predicament, and is asked to clean up the air. The way to do so, apparently, is to blow up these volcanoes spread throughout the area. This makes for an area-wide puzzle, since the only bombs available are bomb flowers, and there aren't always any in the immediate vicinity of one of the bad air spewers.
So, I can consider myself unstuck in Tingle's Rosy Rupeeland, but I can't consider myself un-stumped just yet.
Once inside, Tingle's told about the bees' predicament, and is asked to clean up the air. The way to do so, apparently, is to blow up these volcanoes spread throughout the area. This makes for an area-wide puzzle, since the only bombs available are bomb flowers, and there aren't always any in the immediate vicinity of one of the bad air spewers.
So, I can consider myself unstuck in Tingle's Rosy Rupeeland, but I can't consider myself un-stumped just yet.
Shun a Colander, it's the Wok of Pottery!
Hollander's The Work of Poetry is definitely for a very specific sort of person. The sort who has read all of the "canonical" works of English literature from the 18th century onwards. Not being one of these people, I find myself lost and uncertain from time to time. He makes no concessions for people who aren't familiar with what he writes about - he just goes straight ahead and into his point.
Sometimes, in fact, he barrels onwards to such a degree that it seems like he never announced his point at all.
In the chapter dealing with Lewis Carroll and the nonsense romance, for example, he mentions the idea that The Hunting of the Snark is really about looking for the Absolute. But he never introduces this idea, never explicitly.
It's enough to make you feel like a frantic March Hare. Though sometimes curious points flash out from the hedge-thick text like Cheshire grins.
Sometimes, in fact, he barrels onwards to such a degree that it seems like he never announced his point at all.
In the chapter dealing with Lewis Carroll and the nonsense romance, for example, he mentions the idea that The Hunting of the Snark is really about looking for the Absolute. But he never introduces this idea, never explicitly.
It's enough to make you feel like a frantic March Hare. Though sometimes curious points flash out from the hedge-thick text like Cheshire grins.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
A Clouded Look for the Ladder
I know it's a feature they added to Phantom Hourglass, and that might not have made it into The Wind Waker's production, but being able to mark your map would be super useful. I'm not even supposed to be exploring yet (something the King of Red Lions is too keen to remind me of if I stray even a hairsbreadth off course), but I'm coming across things that should be marked.
Particular among these is a submarine just to the south of Eastern Triangle Island. Along with the towers and rafts, it's another monster den where you can find some form of treasure for clearing it out. This sub housed a bottle, but what has me coloured curious is what's above the chest.
As with the standard ship hold area, there are raised floors on either end of the room in the sub, and the side you come down has a ladder going to the lower level. The raised floor just behind where the chest appears has no such contrivance, though - unless I missed it. Or maybe it's something to get later in the game.
It's always The Wind Waker's fine details that elude me.
Hitting Rossetti on old Perceptions
In his chapter about Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Hollander strives to show how this Romantic poet has power enough to make the modernists second guess themselves in dismissing his ilk. And so it's another survey and study of how one poet goes to work.
Again, as was the case with Whitman, I find myself confronted by something that deserves a second look. That Rossetti also translated medieval texts makes me all the more curious. Though, it sounds like Italian texts were his forte, and I don't get the impression that he translated any epic romances (perhaps that's simply my work).
Again, as was the case with Whitman, I find myself confronted by something that deserves a second look. That Rossetti also translated medieval texts makes me all the more curious. Though, it sounds like Italian texts were his forte, and I don't get the impression that he translated any epic romances (perhaps that's simply my work).
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Tandem Time!
Aha! I was totally right! Radiant Historia's two timelines are building upon one another almost entirely in tandem. There's still challenge in figuring out when to finish what sidequests, but the main plot is unfolding around a reciprocal building of the two timelines.
What leads me to say this?
I needed to progress down the soldier timeline to learn sword dancing to progress down the special agent timeline. Now, to continue down the soldier timeline, I need to learn some sort of "Keen-Eyed" technique in the special agent timeline.
It's good to be right!
Though, this might mean that there is only one boss to the game. This is where the spoilers come in...(after the jump cut).
What leads me to say this?
I needed to progress down the soldier timeline to learn sword dancing to progress down the special agent timeline. Now, to continue down the soldier timeline, I need to learn some sort of "Keen-Eyed" technique in the special agent timeline.
It's good to be right!
Though, this might mean that there is only one boss to the game. This is where the spoilers come in...(after the jump cut).
Drops of Snow?
The way Hollander writes about Walt Whitman's wordplay and the textures within Leaves of Grass makes his poetry sound incredibly compelling. Writing as someone who's never seriously read any Whitman, I'm definitely going to have to go back and check out one of the several editions of the collection to see what all the fuss is about.
Though, reading about Whitman's writing poetry for America on various levels or in various ways makes me wonder who the equivalent is for Canada.
Charles Sangster was quite popular around Confederation (classed among the Confederation Poets, in fact). E.J. Pratt wrote an epic about the Canadian Pacific Railway, giving voice to an important national unifier for Canada. Leonard Cohen captured (and still ensnares) hearts and minds with his works. Irving Layton's another candidate, too, writing poetry that was direct and blunt.
But has there been a poet whose been acknowledged as having written the Canadian poem, or poetry collection? Could such a claim ever be made, given Canada's priding itself on diversity, bashfulness, and unobtrusiveness?
Though, reading about Whitman's writing poetry for America on various levels or in various ways makes me wonder who the equivalent is for Canada.
Charles Sangster was quite popular around Confederation (classed among the Confederation Poets, in fact). E.J. Pratt wrote an epic about the Canadian Pacific Railway, giving voice to an important national unifier for Canada. Leonard Cohen captured (and still ensnares) hearts and minds with his works. Irving Layton's another candidate, too, writing poetry that was direct and blunt.
But has there been a poet whose been acknowledged as having written the Canadian poem, or poetry collection? Could such a claim ever be made, given Canada's priding itself on diversity, bashfulness, and unobtrusiveness?
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Building Towers of History in Tandem
Rather than frittering away time trying to get Kiel to show Stocke sword dancing during the game's Prologue, I decided to carry on. I had figured that the game's (so far) dual timeline probably works like two evenly matched racers: one pulls ahead while the other lags and vice versa, over and over again. It seems that my figuring is right.
Upon moving into the next part of the game's story, Kiel has asked Stocke to train him, and after the marching orders are given, Rosch pulls Kiel aside so that he can travel with the main group and learn from Stocke along the way.
One thing that I'm noticing about Radiant Historia, though, is that the story and the time travel mechanic are at odds.
You might have to back track every now and then to push the story forward down the parallel path, but in so doing you retread the same dialogue and interactions several times over. It's as if two towers are being built in tandem as one project: Holding up construction of the one holds up construction of the other, which in turn holds up the whole project.
I'm also a little bugged by the game's forcing you to rework your way through what was the explored overworld map each time you travel back in time. Nonetheless, the potential of each of the game's timeline forks having their unique boss and ending is enough to keep all of necessary retreading from annoying me too much.
What a Thing to Inspire a Workshop
For all of his worry about bad poetry and all of his concern about the current state of poetry, Hollander at least ends the second section of The Work of Poetry on a positive note. Because of all of the schools of verse there are that many more people writing verse, and there are also that many more critics of poetry, but nonetheless, true poets will emerge as they always do.
For a chapter that's titled "Oh Heavy Verse! The Shopwork of the Workshops," he really doesn't give much depth to his discussion of writing workshops. Outside of saying that poetry is something people come to on their own, and that workshops are generating people with tin ears and poor poetic senses, he makes no true points.
Nonetheless, as narrow as this narrow-sounding chapter might be, it has me feeling very self-conscious of my own poetry (or should I call it verse?). I write in a kind of half formal, half free verse mode most of the time, and frequently use half rhymes or assonance rather than full rhymes. But if variety and tone are central to poetry, I at least have those - at least.
Monday, April 1, 2013
Link's Awakened
The Nightmare boss at the end of Link's Awakening is an absolute bitch. I haven't had my heart racing and my body deking from side to side like that during a handheld Zelda boss fight for far too long.
Before that boss fight, in a great example of anti-climax, I didn't need to draw up a map or anything to get the Nightmare's key in Turtle Rock. I needed a regular key, which I already had, and to find the stairs leading to the boss door. Handily doing both within minutes and then being convinced (and later having it confirmed) that the Wind Fish's Egg wasn't a full dungeon, I figured I might as well just finish the game. So, I did.
Upon finding the Egg to be a puzzle, I called up Ulrira. His tip agreed with my tuition and I ran over to the library.
Already prepped with paper and pen at hand, I wrote down the way through the Egg maze, and rushed off to the Egg. Burning all of the enemies along the way, of course.
However, the greatest puzzle of all (mostly because there was no companion to pull me aside and say - "Ganon's weak to your sword spin!" Or, "The Giant Bot sure does look like it'd hate thickener...") - the Nightmare boss nearly did me in.
Thankfully, completely aware of what I had with me, and armed with my knowledge of Zelda bosses up to this game (and that I had one of Crazy Tracy's potions), I battled on.
The menu screen was called up for a few quick time-outs and to get my bearings, and, after switching Roc's Feather in for the shield and my bow for the sword, I jumped and dodged and shot until the Nightmare boss's final form (which reminds me of Vaati's (in The Minish Cap), actually) was arrowed to death. The Nightmare boss called me out for ruining its plan of dream domination, and I briefly met the Wind Fish before waking us both up with the eight instruments.
I'm glad that Marin was the last we see vanish (before the whole island is shown disappearing, at least), and the Wind Fish's flying over Link suggests that it was a very real dream indeed.
Now, though, I'm left wondering two things: How is the ending different if you finish the game with zero deaths? And, just how long was Link passed out while clutching those two logs for buoyancy?
I may never learn the answer to the latter, but the answer to the former will be discovered once I've cleared the rest of my game backlog. For now - consider The Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening completed!
A Wider 'Net
My inability to
relate to what Hollander has to say remains. After writing about his poetic
generation, Hollander spends follows with a discussion of Wallace Stevens and a bunch of other poets he read growing up. Needless
to say, I'm only familiar with a handful - particularly because I've read
medieval and early modern stuff so much more than anything after the 19th century.
Romantics, Medievals, and Renaissance poets are my foundation (roughly in that order), and reading
Hollander's chapter here has really shown me that that sort of a base can work.
It's something that I just need to find others to relate with about.
Taking a wider view, though, I think the breadth of my reading reflects a greater ease of access. A lot of Hollander's anecdotes about what he read involve getting books from friends and such. I've more often been on the other side of that exchange, but having the internet's definitely had an incredible impact on people's abilities to read a greater variety of anything by anyone.
This variety definitely leads to what Hollander would consider bad poetry, but I think it also helps to keep it in check. After all, as more people are able to read more, more people are able to read more bad poetry and thus are equipped to avoid it.
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