Dear Ben... no that's too obvious...
Yahtzee, you god-like excelsior,
As we near the one-year anniversary of you posting Zero Punctuation on both YouTube and The Escapist, I would just like to thank you for causing a mini-revolution in gaming criticism and entertaining the heck out of me and many others.
I'll admit it now, I'm not a regular gamer, (I'm mostly into music and film), nor do I actually have a system of my own (unless you consider PC a game system, which you do). My best friend, however, is a very ardent and passionate gamer and he introduced me to your videos through your "Grand Theft Auto IV" review which I watched on Memorial Day 2008. I've been a fan ever since, and I've even helped some of my family and friends to become fans of yours as well.
How did I become a fan if I'm not a true gamer? Well, let's figure it out. For starters, I love the visual style of your pieces. Your little avatar figures, including yourself (with your awesome, pimpin' hat) and your little cat-like imp creature run around the screen with inspired anarchy. They've flown helicopters, brandished chainsaws, gone to prison and blown up, just to name a few of their adventures. You use so much of your unadorned blue and yellow backgrounds with just simple graphics and text that it never becomes visual radio. There's always something going on and it comes so fast and furiously that you could watch it multiple times and still find something you never noticed the last time.
Besides the visuals, I love your voice, darn it! As an American, British voices are always really fascinating. Even words that I've heard my entire life are more lively when you say them, most notably "stupid." Also, considering that you talk really fast it gives me a more interesting challenge to memorize what you are saying. For you see, I love memorizing quotes and yours have been some of the most fun to memorize and speak. Both the visuals and your voice appeal to that eternal kid in me that will never die. Much like that kid part in you that still loves finding fun in video games.
Aside from the videos themselves, I really admire your style of criticism. You remind me of the late Pauline Kael, who was a respected film critic for many years. She was a tough cookie who was not easily impressed and was not afraid to call a film out to the mat. She was in a minority with her negativity towards such films as "West Side Story," the Holocaust-themed documentary "Shoah," and one of film's sacred cows, "It's a Wonderful Life." She also didn't lie down from a fight; she fought with other respected critics like Andrew Sarris and filmmaker/author Peter Bogdonovich. What distances me from her is that she's a bit too cruel and serious, even though I've read how she was a nice person in regular life. You on the other hand, even though you can be just as cruel, you have a sense of humor. Even when you're ragging on about "Halo," "Zelda" or gaming webcomics, people will still got a kick out of your methodology. In fact, every form of criticism needs people like you and Pauline Kael, because otherwise you have people blindly loving everything that's given to them (something I have been known to do). Someone has to be the voice of stubborn reason. Also, since you are a game designer as well as a critic, no one can call you out on never having actually created a game, so you aren't entitled to review them.
I really admire your belief that games can be an art form as well. I think any form of entertainment can become an art form if people truly believe it can be one. Unfortunately, there isn't that much academia on games unlike fellow modern entertainments like books, music, movies and TV. The problem may be that there are either people who mostly put out games for the lowest common amusement or you have people like Clive Barker, Richard Garriott or Hideo Kojima who do believe in the art form of gaming but don't know how to balance between true story intelligence and smart intuitive interactive gameplay. If we can do that, we can have more games like (as you state them) "Painkiller" and "Psychonauts."
When the time comes when you feel accomplished your mission don't be afraid to end like Bill Watterson did with "Calvin and Hobbes" and I will understand. Until that day comes, I'll always be a proud and loyal fan of yours and I hope you continue to enjoy what you do. I certainly enjoy it.
Sincerely,
Recliner Man
"Arts Through the Autistic Mind"
(artsthroughautism.blogspot.com)
P.S. In all honesty, is "Fantasy World Dizzy" the best game ever made? My own personal opinion is that the best game ever is "You Don't Know Jack," period!
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The "Grand Theft Auto IV" review:
(To eliminate the annoying banner ad, fullscreen the video (the bottom right button) and exit the ad from there.)
Friday, July 11, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
A Cinematic Powderkeg: Views on "The Birth of a Nation"
Sigh... I knew I had a tough time ahead of me when I approached D.W. Griffith's "The Birth of a Nation." Not only is it three hours long, which I divided into two parts, but the film is forever condemned for one of the most blatant demonstrations of racism in the history of American Cinema.
Now this doesn't mean that the film isn't influential. The Civil War battle scenes, the portrayal of Abraham Lincoln's assassination and the final showdown at the cabin would all become archetypes for scenes of many other films to come. Roger Ebert wrote this in his essay for "The Birth of a Nation" in "The Great Movies II":
"He did not create the language of cinema so much as codify and demonstrate it, so that after him it became conventional for directors to tell a scene by cutting between wide (or 'establishing') shots and various medium shots, close-ups, and inserts of details. ... Griffith made them and other kinds of shots indispensable for telling a story."
The story in this case is about two families: the Camerons from the South and the Stonemans from the North. Both of their families' offspring have a long history of friendship between each other despite different lifestyles. The sprawling narrative covers the details of the War era through Reconstruction. Personal stories such as the romance between Ben Cameron (Henry B. Walthall) and Elsie Stoneman (Lillian Gish) are depicted as well. Ultimately, however, the film's seminal importance in film history is overshadowed by its heroic depiction of the formation of the Ku Klux Klan.
Beyond the shameful bigoted mindset of this movie, a lesson can still come through when you watch it. When the Civil War ended and Lincoln was killed, Reconstruction allowed full freedom to Blacks right off the bat. The problem ended up being that the government was being overcompensating to a group of people who didn't know how to be Americans. They were never taught. Most Blacks at the time were either uneducated transients owned by Southerners or born into bondage; that was their whole existence. Now with immediate free reign, unknowing masses turned into full-on anarchy, ripe for exploitation by an intelligent evil. That's why the Klan felt they were right, because they were trying to quell the situation by bringing the system back to the way it was, by way of fascism.
Why did the people who designed the Reconstruction never learn that it takes a while to build a broken society back from the ground up? Take when America began, for example. After when we were liberated from England in 1781, we began to form our own system of government which took the form of the Articles of Confederation. This turned out to be a disaster. So they regrouped five years later and came up with the Virginia Plan, which formed the basis for our Constitution, which became ratified a year later in 1787. As well as adding the Bill of Rights four years after that. From the Declaration of Independence to the Bill of Rights, it took us 15 years to get America in a functioning order, and even though not perfect, the system still works.
As a result of Lincoln's assassination, history never saw, "With malice toward none and charity for all..." By hurrying up the process of getting the Blacks up to speed with the rest of the Union and the unwillingness of evil men to accept their new place in society, they were denied their full citizenship in America for another century; until the Civil Rights movement finally gave something back. See how the mistakes of a few people can affect the whole ball of wax? It's just as sad as the racism in this film.
Now this doesn't mean that the film isn't influential. The Civil War battle scenes, the portrayal of Abraham Lincoln's assassination and the final showdown at the cabin would all become archetypes for scenes of many other films to come. Roger Ebert wrote this in his essay for "The Birth of a Nation" in "The Great Movies II":"He did not create the language of cinema so much as codify and demonstrate it, so that after him it became conventional for directors to tell a scene by cutting between wide (or 'establishing') shots and various medium shots, close-ups, and inserts of details. ... Griffith made them and other kinds of shots indispensable for telling a story."
The story in this case is about two families: the Camerons from the South and the Stonemans from the North. Both of their families' offspring have a long history of friendship between each other despite different lifestyles. The sprawling narrative covers the details of the War era through Reconstruction. Personal stories such as the romance between Ben Cameron (Henry B. Walthall) and Elsie Stoneman (Lillian Gish) are depicted as well. Ultimately, however, the film's seminal importance in film history is overshadowed by its heroic depiction of the formation of the Ku Klux Klan.
Beyond the shameful bigoted mindset of this movie, a lesson can still come through when you watch it. When the Civil War ended and Lincoln was killed, Reconstruction allowed full freedom to Blacks right off the bat. The problem ended up being that the government was being overcompensating to a group of people who didn't know how to be Americans. They were never taught. Most Blacks at the time were either uneducated transients owned by Southerners or born into bondage; that was their whole existence. Now with immediate free reign, unknowing masses turned into full-on anarchy, ripe for exploitation by an intelligent evil. That's why the Klan felt they were right, because they were trying to quell the situation by bringing the system back to the way it was, by way of fascism.
Why did the people who designed the Reconstruction never learn that it takes a while to build a broken society back from the ground up? Take when America began, for example. After when we were liberated from England in 1781, we began to form our own system of government which took the form of the Articles of Confederation. This turned out to be a disaster. So they regrouped five years later and came up with the Virginia Plan, which formed the basis for our Constitution, which became ratified a year later in 1787. As well as adding the Bill of Rights four years after that. From the Declaration of Independence to the Bill of Rights, it took us 15 years to get America in a functioning order, and even though not perfect, the system still works.
As a result of Lincoln's assassination, history never saw, "With malice toward none and charity for all..." By hurrying up the process of getting the Blacks up to speed with the rest of the Union and the unwillingness of evil men to accept their new place in society, they were denied their full citizenship in America for another century; until the Civil Rights movement finally gave something back. See how the mistakes of a few people can affect the whole ball of wax? It's just as sad as the racism in this film.
Monday, May 26, 2008
An Ode to Voice Acting
One puzzling question about a voice, or sound is general, is why do we respond to it so deeply? Is it the way a person talks, the way they hold a note, the way they enunciate the words they say? I find it one of the coolest mysteries of life and we have yet to figure it out. But that won't stop me from wondering.
Let me start with a simple example: I don't watch the anime "Bleach." I don't know much about it at all really, aside from the fact that it's one of the most popular and critically acclaimed animes around right now. But through happenstance and general internet hopping, I watched a portion of the episode "Ichigo Dies!" which has had me a bit emotionally drained. What transfixed me was the female protagonist, Rukia. She exuded such a beautiful, sonorous and hurt presence; it had an instantaneous impact on me. Why, you ask, when I know little to nothing about this show? It was the performance of actress Michelle Ruff. The honest and emotional clarity in her voice shattered my soul in that moment and still does whenever I re-watch it.
When I watch things like this, I can't help but think of how underrated a profession voice acting really is. I mean, sure, there are the conventions where the buffs, including myself, know about these people and how vast and wide their range is. But sadly, most people don't. Unless a star people know is attached to an animated film, people don't give two bits about who is playing what in these works of paint and paper. To me, voice acting is akin to singing. It's about putting your entire soul in your voice and being able to touch someone without even showing your face.
Consider this: We can make animation with only sound effects, music and visuals. But part of what adds to the experience is how a character's speech makes you feel invested. Sure, you can show Goofy being silly, but that yell of his, by either Pinto Colvig or Bill Farmer, just makes you smile right away. You can show Bugs Bunny hating on Elmer Fudd, but what would it be without putting him down in that smart-aleck Brooklyn accent of his by Mel Blanc. You could even show Homer Simpson screwing up, but it can only be followed up by a very angry "D'oh!" from Dan Castellaneta.
But it's much more complex than that. In the Teen Titans episode "The End, Part 3," there is a read by Scott Menville as Robin that I find so beautiful that the line is imprinted in my brain. You see, anyone can recite the words: "Yeah. It's the end of the world. But so what? We're still here-still fighting. Still friends." But it's about the way he delivers it and how much he means it. Even if you closed your eyes to the image on screen you could feel in your heart everything he was saying. I'm also reminded of a powerful scene played in the final episode of Cowboy Bebop by Steve Blum and Wendee Lee as Spike and Faye. In the scene, you watch as a woman's entire emotional shield and veneer come slowly crashing down as she explains how there is nothing left for her as the man decides to head to his death. It's not that they were in love with each other; they were both just really lonely, and they never acknowledged that to each other until that moment. By the end though, it was too late.
So when I hear that pain in Rukia's voice as she's forced to scold and abandon Ichigo to save him (even if it means accepting her death sentence), my heart tears a little. It reminds me how the sound of a voice, even in a foreign tongue, can make me feel so open to Art and more importantly, to myself.
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A Note to ari: Thanks for the info on those animes. I'll check those out.
Let me start with a simple example: I don't watch the anime "Bleach." I don't know much about it at all really, aside from the fact that it's one of the most popular and critically acclaimed animes around right now. But through happenstance and general internet hopping, I watched a portion of the episode "Ichigo Dies!" which has had me a bit emotionally drained. What transfixed me was the female protagonist, Rukia. She exuded such a beautiful, sonorous and hurt presence; it had an instantaneous impact on me. Why, you ask, when I know little to nothing about this show? It was the performance of actress Michelle Ruff. The honest and emotional clarity in her voice shattered my soul in that moment and still does whenever I re-watch it.
When I watch things like this, I can't help but think of how underrated a profession voice acting really is. I mean, sure, there are the conventions where the buffs, including myself, know about these people and how vast and wide their range is. But sadly, most people don't. Unless a star people know is attached to an animated film, people don't give two bits about who is playing what in these works of paint and paper. To me, voice acting is akin to singing. It's about putting your entire soul in your voice and being able to touch someone without even showing your face.
Consider this: We can make animation with only sound effects, music and visuals. But part of what adds to the experience is how a character's speech makes you feel invested. Sure, you can show Goofy being silly, but that yell of his, by either Pinto Colvig or Bill Farmer, just makes you smile right away. You can show Bugs Bunny hating on Elmer Fudd, but what would it be without putting him down in that smart-aleck Brooklyn accent of his by Mel Blanc. You could even show Homer Simpson screwing up, but it can only be followed up by a very angry "D'oh!" from Dan Castellaneta.
But it's much more complex than that. In the Teen Titans episode "The End, Part 3," there is a read by Scott Menville as Robin that I find so beautiful that the line is imprinted in my brain. You see, anyone can recite the words: "Yeah. It's the end of the world. But so what? We're still here-still fighting. Still friends." But it's about the way he delivers it and how much he means it. Even if you closed your eyes to the image on screen you could feel in your heart everything he was saying. I'm also reminded of a powerful scene played in the final episode of Cowboy Bebop by Steve Blum and Wendee Lee as Spike and Faye. In the scene, you watch as a woman's entire emotional shield and veneer come slowly crashing down as she explains how there is nothing left for her as the man decides to head to his death. It's not that they were in love with each other; they were both just really lonely, and they never acknowledged that to each other until that moment. By the end though, it was too late.
So when I hear that pain in Rukia's voice as she's forced to scold and abandon Ichigo to save him (even if it means accepting her death sentence), my heart tears a little. It reminds me how the sound of a voice, even in a foreign tongue, can make me feel so open to Art and more importantly, to myself.
(The aforementioned episode of "Bleach"; Watch it all if you wish, but the scene I singled out in this piece doesn't begin until 8:47)
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A Note to ari: Thanks for the info on those animes. I'll check those out.
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