[spoiler warning for Final Fantasy XV]

Final Fantasy XV is overflowing with exceptionally finely crafted content – the depth of work put into it is outstandingly evident. Unfortunately, my enjoyment of it was hindered by its many technical and storytelling issues. In all, I was unentertained.

 And yet, something lingered in me after the credits closed.

 At first I thought it was a sadness for the abundance of work put into what became a flawed game. But I quickly re-watched the opening with Noct and his band of friends pushing their thirsty car across a horizon-bridging road - then re-watched the closing when those same friends are sitting around their last campfire - and with tears suddenly streaming down my cheeks, I realized what lingered in me was something more.

 Even if the characters themselves became unrealistic due to the game’s flaws, simply partaking in each moment of their day-to-day adventures created a connection between themselves and the audience which was completely real. As if the game's issues were only there to demonstrate the strength of that emotional connection. When the dialogue fell out of sync, or the camera was pushed through a wall, or the story itself revealed its issues – when everything else appeared to fail, the bond between these brothers remained.

 So, if this game's goal was simply to give the audience an opportunity to be a part of friendship that could transcended a broken reality and make life worth living - even if it means trudging through a desert or giving up that friendship to serve a noble cause, then for me, that goal was achieved.

 ---

 The opening:

 I usually object to licensed songs being used in original works, since it risks that someone’s previous association with that song will shatter their focus and subsequently their immersion. And while that’s still true, with a new arrangement there was no better song to play during the opening of Final Fantasy XV than Ben E King’s “Stand By Me”.

 Four men, are pushing their fuelless car across a scorching wasteland – there are no words of encouragement or support shared between them. Instead they argue and complain - trying to get the others to do the work for them. They almost seem an unwilling gang – well known to each other, but far from friends.

 Then, among their grunts and stumbled footsteps, a song begins playing - one with a perfectly steady beat, delicate instruments and a clear, solitary female voice – it sounds like everything these guys aren’t. But as the lyrics form meaning, and the melody forms feeling, it’s clear this song actually reflects exactly what’s inside them. An unbreakable bond.

 In their masculine and rowdy demeanor, it’s apparent they wouldn’t know how to say what they mean to each other if they tried. But not only does it not matter, it’s precisely because they can’t say it, yet still know it, that makes their intrinsic connection so strong.

 They are, in truth, the best friends.

 ---

 The Youtube channel, “Writing on Games” examines this same experience of mine from a slightly different perspective and in more depth. If you’ve read all the way here, I can greatly recommend watching it: https://youtu.be/MUvoxKqy3Jk

The idea that “Nobody is perfect” may be true. But it doesn’t make true the idea that nobody can be perfect.

The magic of The Force Awakens without the magic Star Wars

[spoiler warning for The Force Awakens]

Similar to practically everyone who has seen Star Wars, I watched episodes I to VI many times over when I was small. The spectacle of these films was entrancing. However, as my understanding of storytelling developed I found that the entrancement dissipated, and I didn’t much enjoy watching them anymore.

Then Episode VII was released.

Because of the series’ legacy, I knew that it would be a landmark in film history. So, I decided to see it on Opening Night with an audience of ultimate fans. I very much appreciated the accomplishment of fulfilling the style, world and narrative of the previous films, however I was prepared for an experience that, if the story wasn’t well told, the spectacle wouldn’t be enough to entertain me.

Behold – the story was well told.

I realize that it’s almost considered blasphemy to dislike Star Wars, and it could appear hypocritical to only like The Force Awakens. But, by referencing my experience, I mean to demonstrate that even if the recurring characters, designs, and film-making techniques were removed, it would still be a thoroughly entertaining movie.

The best example of this is the ending. I expect almost every fan of the series would have had chills when Luke Skywalker finally appeared on screen again. And yet, as someone who watched the original trilogy with no emotional connection to Luke at all, I teared-up. I considered that perhaps my emotions were influenced by the passionate audience around me. But that was disproven when I teared-up during each viewing of it since then.

So, my reasoning is that although it’s creatively significant to see Mark Hamill reprise his legendary role, it’s emotionally significant to see the powerful despair in this legendary figure. Without understanding if he knows the newcomer, why she carries his weapon, why she’s returning it to him, or why he abandoned it - information is dismissed and what remains is pure emotion.

Much of this moment’s weight is due to the importance and efforts that were placed on finding Luke, and it’s the believability and complexity of Mark Hamill’s expression that delivers that weight. Even though his performance was equally well done in the original trilogy, for me the story-telling denied my engagement. But The Force Awakens permitted it.

I am entranced once again.

The Assassin‘s Creed movie - an exception among adaptations

While I think there’s much fun to be had in the adventure and spectacle of other video-game movies – like Lara Croft: Tomb Raider, Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, and Warcraft – Assassin’s Creed goes beyond fun, with its bold art direction, outstanding choreography, spectacular cinematography, fresh style of story, strong motifs, and thorough and focused used of its source material. Not entirely refined, but this film has the foundations of an exceptional piece of art.

Perhaps the weakest element, because of its encompassing nature, is the heavily underplayed storytelling. Due to the somewhat complex plot, it seems the filmmakers aimed to use minimal dialogue to avoid information-overload, but this resulted in information-underload instead.

One aspect in particular that calls for appreciation is the appropriate focus on the modern and medieval settings, and the bridging of them with the new animus. While the original video games put emphasis on the medieval storyline to create an entertaining gaming experience, the filmmakers understood that the predetermination of the historical events removed a lot of tension from those scenes – and so presented them in a momentary, foreign and stylized format to make them serve only as visual representations of the modern characters’ inner growth. And redesigning the original static animus into something observable and physically demanding allowed all the modern characters to have immediate, physical reactions.

The world of video games has a plethora of entertaining stories to be told beyond their interactivity, and I hope that the Assassin’s Creed movie will be recognized as demonstrating how well those stories can be told and, in turn, illuminating a path for future adaptations to tell them even better.

RE: How about Skyward Sword’s Sky?

A short while ago, Barry of the Game Grumps created a video essay of sorts on the sky in Skyward Sword. And I had some thoughts about it.

Here’s his video: https://youtu.be/chYgDqWW6ho

This video is well done. It’s awesome to see not just new perspectives, but perspectives on specifics – something we ought to see much more of. The visual examples convey each point splendidly. And I like the idea of aiming to improve the game with very few tweaks, as it respects the original creators’ decisions and feels more like refining rather than remaking. Focusing on the titular environment makes sense. And although Barry did the writing and editing as well as the narration, I’m sure he would have had input from other grumps – they’ve clearly thought this over a lot. So much claps, chaps. I’d love to see more of these videos.

Here comes the infamous: however! I don’t believe these tweaks would really affect the game at all. They have the right direction, but I think the examples are incorrect.

As many players did, I enjoyed the gameplay, visuals and sound of flight in Skyward Sword well enough - but I can also see how generally refining the aesthetic would improve that experience. So Barry’s adjustments create two scenarios - either: “flight WAS NOT fun, but this makes it seem fun.” Or “flight WAS fun, but this makes it more fun.” Neither make it great. The grumps may very well have discussed this and are simply demonstrating with this video how small changes can have a big effect. But I think it’s worth elaborating that there are more effective changes that could improve the sky. If you’re going to change something, don’t just make it better, make it the best.

Regarding each three steps:

Step 1: “Make the sky pretty [change the color palette]” – This seems very subjective, especially since blue and yellow is a color-theory-approved combination (regardless of any complimentary tones in Skyloft). More so, it would just feel like we were flying in any typical sky rather than the unique Skyward Sword sky. There’s an established art direction in the color palette here – it doesn’t work to change one aspect without adjusting all aspects.

Step 2: “Clouds [make the sky feel like a playground]“ – Dipping in and out of clouds would certainly be to fun to play with – but that’s all it would be. The player has a goal when they take flight, so messing around along the way would quickly become boring and eventually a nuisance – obscuring the player’s view of their goal. I feel like “polish” is being confused here with “embellishment”. Night flight works well as it doesn’t change the gameplay, just enhances the mood - much more in-line with the examples of Wind Waker and Twilight Princess.

Step 3: “Sound effects [amplify the sounds and add Link’s voice]“ – I can certainly understand the want for more exciting and engrossing sound, but the flying has to feel safe. This is where the Skyloftians live - jumping aboard a giant bird is second-nature to them, so the danger of falling is never an issue. Shadow of the Colossus is actually a perfect example – it’s loud because it’s meant to feel imposing and dangerous. And yes, we “woop” when we go on a rollercoaster – but that’s because it’s an unusual experience. Link has flown during most of his life for it not to be so exciting any more. A better comparison would be a horse-rider – they don’t “woop”.

I like that Barry makes focused, detailed suggestions - but minor tweaks that only turn monotonous flying, into less monotonous flying just wouldn’t make enough difference to the game as whole to be worth implementing. To reiterate: if we’re looking to improve the sky, let’s not just make it better, let’s make it the best.

The core issue is that the sky was empty – it was almost exclusively used as a transit between the bulk of the game. It only felt like part of the Skyward Sword experience because so much time was spent there. If every moment of just straight-flying was cut-out, the time spent on a Loftwing would be almost zilch.

What would have made the sky fun is if it actually was the bulk of game – if there were challenges, achievements, exploration, variation and story in it. Set each fight against The Imprisoned in the sky –  include a sky dungeon – give the sky large obstacles and different pathways (rather than completely open) – create moments and events as flying scenes - have unlockable traversal upgrades for your Loftwing, and even allow the player to choose the Loftwing’s color – night flight is a great idea, but to expand on that, add playful variation like pink or blue clouds to avoid any one combination becoming stale, make a full day-night cycle, rain, storms to avoid, wind that can knock you off-course.

All this aside – here’s something to appreciate Barry’s original mission of improving the game by only changing a little. Something that he basically identified at the beginning of the video. Ocarina of Time wasn’t called “Hyrule Field of Time”, so the somewhat basic design of Hyrule Field wasn’t an issue. But simply putting the word “Sky” in the title of Skyward Sword, creates expectation that the sky is going to be coolest dang thing in that game. So in actuality the simplest, most effective change might be to just change the name.

The Dragon Firework - hidden cruciality

Although I’ve seen The Lord of the Rings the Fellowship of the Ring many several times before, recently I was pondering the purpose of the Dragon Firework part during Bilbo’s party. It’s certainly an enjoyable sequence, but I started to consider why this scene was kept in the theatrical cut, while others were only in the extended version. At its most basic, all this scene does is introduce us to Merry and Pippin, who actually both have another equally insightful introduction later in the film. If we imagine that the firework scene was cut, and we first meet them on the road, then deleted scenes like the departure from Rivendell or the arrival at Moria could have been included instead – scenes that appear to elevate the story much more then Merry and Pippin’s firework.

So, would the film have been better with it removed, or is there something more to it that merited its inclusion? Let’s see - apart from giving us an insight to Merry and Pippin’s character, this scene actually also gives us an insight to the hobbit culture as a whole. We see how quickly the party-goers can go from carefree, to total panic. It’s understood that the Shire represents the good part of Middle-Earth that the Fellowship are fighting to save. When we see such an idyllic place, we become attached to it and feel that all the efforts made in the coming adventure will be worth it. But if we saw the Hobbits exclusively at peace, we may start to feel that their peace was unbreakable – and that perhaps, the evil outside could never really harm them. Which is why, even for just a moment, seeing their peace broken by the Dragon Firework is so important. As soon as we see the hobbits’ smiles drop, we realize that this paradise is fragile and needs protecting. We understand the risk of losing, and so we cheer for the heroes to win in every peril they face.

So, what began as something that felt almost unnecessary, I now understand is an intensely vital if not one of the most vital scenes in the entire trilogy. And it’s really rather brilliant.

Mirror’s Edge vs Mirror’s Edge Catalyst – poetry vs spectacle

Mirror’s Edge versus Mirror’s Edge Catalyst – poetry versus spectacle

One of the most iconic aspects of both Mirror’s Edge and Mirror’s Edge Catalyst is the visual design. They both follow a bold, minimalistic style with straight lines and a confined color palette. But they truly are mirrors of each other, because in the core they’re identical, but on the surface they’re exact opposites. The Mirror’s Edge design takes place in the runner’s mind, while the Mirror’s Edge Catalyst design takes place in the runner’s reality.

The immediately identifiable reference for this would be the Runner Vision. In ME1, runners have an acute ability to see traversable objects, which is represented by a red overlay on said objects. In MEC, runners wear a contact in their eye which literally projects a holographic red overlay on the traversable objects. One is red through artistic interpretation, the other is red through in-world design. But the difference extends beyond this.

While playing ME1 for the first time, my mind was rather blown when I passed by a small tree on the first level. I noticed that the branches and leaves shared the same exact same white color as the tiles and fences surrounding it. In this man-made world, one could believe that every color was chosen by the man who made it - but nature chooses the color of nature. If the runners truly saw the color palette of the world in its’ entirety, those branches would be brown and those leaves would be green. I realized that runners don’t just see useful objects in solid color, they actually ignore the color of everything else.

So, when MEC arrived, one of the first things I noticed were the trees - brown branches and pink flowers. The game designers have been very clever in using a cherry blossom tree to emulate the minimalistic color pallete - but it’s clear that the color which we see is the color which it is.

The city in ME1 could very well be a whole myriad of colors, and the runners just see it as white. But the city in MEC is definitively white, regardless of how anyone sees it.

As the design of a world, MEC’s is brilliant. Every building and road and gadget and interface and hairstyle and jacket and buckle reflects the same sharp style. It’s so complete and recognizable, and shows how it would feel to live in this world.

But what makes ME1 so brilliant, is that everything we see is through an artistic filter.  Every building and road and gadget and interface and hairstyle and jacket and buckle reflects a singular emotion. It shows how it would feel to live with the abilities of a runner. A life of stress and speed, but also faith and fluidity.

Mirror’s Edge Catalyst is a beautiful spectacle. But Mirror’s Edge is visual poetry.

I’m not sure which is better or which is worse. But perhaps that’s because, even though they’re rooted in the same principles, they’re actually too different to compare.

Mind-Thoughts and Brain-Ideas

I have lots of thoughts. But sometimes I have thoughts that I haven’t heard anyone else think before.

So I thought I’d put all those thoughts that haven’t been thought before here to give other people a chance to think them too. The subjects of which will be everything - in no particular order, and to no particular degree.