Departures

Best movie I’ve seen all year. I’m not normally a fan of heavy-handed saccharine sentimentality, or the use of dramatic cello music to drive emotional points, but this movie got to me.

It has this…well, quiet dignity about it that I loved. It’s strange to say that a movie is ‘respectful’, but no other adjective fits, really. It’s almost obsessive in its carefulness: treads very lightly over its subject matter, and makes nothing more than gentle suggestions as to its intent. It just watches quietly  from a corner, bowing its head politely if you catch its eye.

Except for the dramatic cello bits, of course. Those were a tad unnecessary.

Daigo explains the concept of 'stone-writing'. I hate to be pedantic, but the subtitles obviously got this part wrong, because it involves neither stones nor writing.

On a related note, this is probably the first live-action Japanese film I’ve seen since the Akira Kurosawas way back in college. (which bought back hilarious memories of Toshiro Mifune, and his uncanny ability to make even normal dialogue sound like a declaration of war)

While I’ve watched a steady number of Korean and Chinese films (and an unhealthy amount of Miyazaki and Japanese animation), contemporary Japanese films, I realize, I’ve hardly seen any.

Recommendations, anyone?

Mass Effecting My Judgement

Last gaming post for a while. Promise.

Mass Effect was so pretty I couldn’t stop taking screenshots.

I was smitten with the game almost immediately: it has this iron command over it’s narrative and setting, and a grand cinematic sweep almost consistently throughout. And I have to admit, I have a soft spot for games that allow you to choose and customize your main character.

I loved playing as Jane Shephard (the default name for a female main character, pictured below, on left). The voice actor playing her part nailed the role perfectly, adding a sense of gravitas and weight to an already emotional story (where, for once, the romance is actually not embarrassing and quite sweet, in an odd gamey way).

Heteronormativity rears its (ugly) head

What’s also incredible is the realization that, inspite of the level of customization possible with your main character, and you can create some amusingly grotesque protagonists if you so wish, the engine seems to create an extraordinary amount of expression for him/her, and its impossible not to be charmed by your character’s repertoire of faces: alternately grim, confused, angry, heartbroken and even amused.

The plot is engaging, intelligent. The gameworld is intricate and carefully thought out: it’s a far cry from the traditional masculine sci-fi fantasy realms we’re so sick of in gaming. Even the choice to play either as male or female is an interestingly weighed one. A lot of games that feature the option seem to do it out of mere tokenism: where, apart from slight changes in grammar, there’s little difference otherwise.

Of course, one could argue that there doesn’t need to be, but that sounds like a slightly lazy approach.

In Mass Effect, this choice, and I could be mistaken, seemed…important. It seemed to offer a distinct variant of a gameworld depending of choice of gender.  Consequently, the game confronts a lot of interesting issues, and offers surprisingly contemporary viewpoints on xenophobia, and gender, and sexuality. And being a game, and therefore interactive, it packs quite an emotional punch.

Marc, before you ask, these ARE in-game screenshots

It’s lovely. Please play it if you can.

Happy Birthday, A!

Today is A’s birthday! A, you’ll remember, is my friend and frequent partner-in-crime, who sometimes features in the comic strip. Like so:

 (She looks nothing like that, by the way)

So today is her birthday, and in celebration and acknowledgement of the fact that I’m currently 3000 kms away from her current location: we have a little celebratory bash happening. Performing the Birthday song, we have none other than….Sex Bob-omb! 

Happy Birthday, A!

 

More photos of the mysterious guitar guy follow:

Good night, peoples. 

Vampirical Observations (My ‘Summer of Videogames’ continues)

 

The best kind of games bleed temporarily into your real life. 

The original Thief, The Dark Project made me wary of streetlights, summoning an inexplicable urge to shoot off the bulbs with arrows.   

The much-maligned but oft-magnificient Mirror’s Edge converted what was previously a patchwork of urban rooftops into pathways, routes, and opportunities for multiple fractures. Often with an ambient soundtrack playing through your head.

The Phoenix Wright series, whose depiction of the justice system was about as accurate as Cricket 97’s idea of cricket, made me seek out every opportunity to shout Objection! and Hold It! (getting the exclamation marks in was the difficult part) in every conversation. Many friendships were lost in that brief, heady, uncertain time.

Vampire The Masquerade goes a step further. Whatever blood-fuelled frenzy channeled the mystic energies responsible for this title (it was undoubtedly blood-fuelled) had uncertain side effects i’m sure the creators were unaware of. What manner of alchemy, pray, makes one return to this game like a ghoul to her sire in the dead of night, promising yourself, rather uncertainly, that just one more quest would satiate the hunger till the next break of dawn. 

Infact, after a few days, dawn itself begins to lose its allure. Sunrise is too bright, too piercing. And when the real-world doorbell rings in the middle of your sneaky break-in into a kine apartment, you’re half-tempted to turn and hiss, like a kindred channeling her feeding frenzy. 

See what it did, there? Bloodlines bleeds slang into the real world: it bleeds its language, its unique visual grammar. The very rules that govern its twisted, dark characters and places. 

It’s the most effortlessly intelligent game I’ve played: with a script that oozes style and edge, and situations that make the quests in even Fallout 3 look positively childish.

But you can’t get over the sense of tragedy that underscores the title. It’s costly development led its creator, Troika games, to financial ruin. It’s an unfunished, often buggy game that was rushed through the door before the studio shut shop. It could have been the template for all future RPGs, but it wasn’t. 

We’d all have our own personal holodecks by now if that had happened. Instead, we have this:

 

The best kind of games bleed temporarily into your real life. 

The original Thief: The Dark Project made me wary of streetlights for nearly a month, summoning an inexplicable urge to shoot off the bulbs with arrows.   

The much-maligned but oft-magnificient Mirror’s Edge converted what was previously a patchwork of urban rooftops into pathways, routes, and opportunities for multiple fractures. Often with an ambient soundtrack playing through your head.

The Phoenix Wright series, whose depiction of the justice system was about as accurate as Cricket 97’s idea of cricket, made me seek out every opportunity to shout Objection! and Hold It! (getting the exclamation marks in was the difficult part) in every conversation. Many friendships were lost in that brief, heady, uncertain time.

Vampire: The Masquerade (Bloodlines) goes a step further.

Whatever blood-fuelled frenzy channeled the mystic energies responsible for this title (it was undoubtedly blood-fuelled), they had side effects I’m sure  even the creators were unaware of.

What manner of alchemy, pray, makes one return to this game like a ghoul to her sire in the dead of night, promising yourself, rather uncertainly, that just one more quest would satiate the hunger till the next break of dawn. 

Ooh. Pretty.

Ooh. Atmosphere.

Infact, after a few days, dawn itself begins to lose its allure. Sunrise is too bright, too piercing (The game itself is set in a perpetual night. Sunlight, after all, is anathema to the vampires (referred to as the ‘Kindred’, in game)) And when the real-world doorbell rings in the middle of your sneaky break-in into a kine apartment, you’re half-tempted to turn and hiss, like a kindred channeling her feeding frenzy. 

See what it did, there? Bloodlines bleeds its slang into the real world: it bleeds its language, its unique visual grammar. The very rules that govern its twisted, dark characters and places. 

Heather. Definitely among gaming's best-written characters. Of all time.

It’s the most effortlessly intelligent game I’ve played: with a script that oozes style and edge, and situations that make the quests in even Fallout 3 look positively childish. Forgetting the ‘game’ part of it, even taken as a work of fantasy: its worldbuilding is incredible.

In the game, some of the Kindred believe that the Biblical Caine was the original vampire.

It’s a game that populates its world with people who have personalities, and not  just quest dispensers, or plot advancers, or monologue-deliverers. Take Beckett, the vampire archaeologist, pictured above, with whom you can have a freewheeling discussion on the origins of vampirism for no apparent gameplay purpose. Or Prince LaCroix, self-proclaimed monarch of the kindred, whose political machinations hover over the plot just out of reach, his intents always just beyond understanding:

But nothing illustrates the attention to detail in this game more than playing as the Malkavians. The Malkavians are a slightly…unhinged clan of vampires. Choose to play as them, and EVERY dialogue option in the game changes into bizarre, semi-coherent psycho-babble:

'I Shall Undertake Your Dark Tutelage' may possibly be the best conversation line ever.

I can't help but say 'lulz'.

Then there’s the sense of tragedy that underscores the title. Its costly development led its creator, Troika Games, to financial ruin. It’s an unfunished, often buggy game that was rushed through the door before the studio shut shop.

The creepy Nagarajas

If Bloodlines had been the template for all future RPGs,  we’d all have our own personal holodecks by now.

But that didn’t happen. Instead, we have this:

Jeanne D’Arc

The story of Joan of Arc is an intriguing one, one fraught with both the difficulties of reliable historical record, and the manic glee of myth and eulogy. 

The facts of Joan’s life remain, 500 years later, shrouded in uncertainty. But she is an enduring symbol, claims of divine providence and problematic christian overtones notwithstanding. (Her Wikipedia page is excellently balanced)

So when I found that Level-5, the game studio responsible for one of my favourite titles: Professor Layton (We’d really like that sequel now, thank you) had also developed a role playing game called ‘Jeanne D’Arc‘, I was quite pleased. 

The game claimed to be an ‘autre histoire of Joan of Arc, heroine of France.’ Now, Level-5 are an intelligent bunch, and they have a knack for wrapping compelling stories around unique premises. I was expecting a layered interpretation of the Joan of Arc story, perhaps one that cleaved the common ecclesiastical readings of her life, and took a broader look at French society during the Hundred Years War. Joan is fascinatingly divisive as a character: driven, strong, and succeeding against all the odds, but attributing all her drive and ability to a divine hand, claiming to be guided by the ‘voice of God.’

All in all, a fantastic premise for a videogame: and perhaps a chance to prove that the interactive medium can really contribute to a layered, systematic and deeper understanding of complex historical topics. 

…

Sigh. 

…

Well, okay. I was a bit wrong. 

Jeanne D’Arc offers what I can only call a Cardcaptor Sakura interpretation of the Joan of Arc tale. It replaces political intrigue with demon hordes from the netherworld, and accurate historical representation with a bonkers story about magical armlets. 

This is all, of course, AWESOME: right up there with Pride and Prejudice and Zombies in its importance as historical record. While I still have the faint disappointment of dashed expectations somewhere in the back of my head, most of it disappeared by the time the Lizardmen appeared during the siege of Orleans, and a large anthropomorphic lion claimed to be the leader of the French garrison. 

It’s hard not to be charmed by a game where Jeanne, who looks like this: 

leads the French, who look like this:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Against the British, who…um….look like this:

My favourite is Henry the VIth, who’s transformed from infant monarch to demonic poster-child:

P.S: I’m surprised at the lack of concept art and wallpapers for this game on the net, which is a shame because the game is visually excellent. The title screen itself is a stunning piece of art…I couldn’t find it in all it’s glory, but here’s a cross section of what it looks like (without the japanese text, of course):

Excuses, Excuses

I have none this time. I’ve been lazy. I’ve drawn just two the last two weeks. =(

This new scanner’s a bit geriatric, and seems to see everything placed in its 8×6 eye through a misty white haze. 

Meanwhile, while rooting around the house, I located an old digital tablet somebody seems to have bought for some  presumably important purpose. Trouble is, its missing the pen. Without it, all it does is beep morosely, constantly switching its single LED indicator from green to red. Poor thing.

Malgudi Days – Possibly Part I

This weekend I sat and watched the first volume of Malgudi Days, the much fondly-remembered Doordarshan TV serial from the late 80s.

I finished the ‘Swami and Friends‘ story arc in one marathon stretch, and I’m saving the rest of the episodes for the next few days (There are 39 in total).

In a way, I’m glad that I have no particular nostalgia for the series (even the apparently legendary theme song): I was much too young when it aired, and I didn’t catch any of its subsequent runs on TV. But Narayan’s books (particularly Swami and Friends) were deeply influential in my early years of reading books, and I’ve kept a copy of it with me for nearly a decade now. I was quite curious to see how it would translate into a serial. 

Happily, it was all quite lovely. The actors playing Swami and Mani nailed their parts perfectly (though some of Mani’s flourishes are a bit too theatric), and the initially cold, son-of-an-important-person Rajam, while a little stiff in the early episodes, settles into his part fairly competently. 

The attention to detail is quite excellent. The series establishes, and reinforces, a sense of time and place very early, and very effectively.

Infact, we know the exact month and year 10 minutes into the first episode, through a newspaper Swami finds on the ground near the school (which he subsequently converts into a paper boat):

That news places the first episode to be set in the early months of 1931 (Willingdon succeeded Lord Irwin officially in April). 

1931, of course, was a year of enormous political upheaval. The Gandhi-Irwin pact, signed in March, made promises for granting India ‘dominion status’, paving the way for the 1931 Round Table Conferences (the second of which Gandhi participated in) leading, eventually, to the signing of the Poona Pact the following year. 

1931 was also the year Bhagat Singh, Shivaram Rajguru and Sukhdev Thapar were hanged by the British government. The series references all of these events in the backdrop of Swami’s early irreverent adventures, and there is a sense of continuity in this background political unrest that is most pleasing.

For example, one episode sees a group of men (in white caps, seated behind Swami) discussing an ‘appropriate response’ to the British injustices while Swami and Mani chase a laddoo thief:

Their response manifests itself as a protest march (sort of visible in the background) the subsequent day, as Swami, Rajam, and Mani discuss their next move in tracking the Laddoo Thief (who is still at large):

My favourite, however, is the moral science question paper Swami has to answer. It’s a lovely, almost casual detail visible only for a second, but brimming with subtext:

 

If you look closely at the 'Thought for the Day' at the top, some of the proverbs used on previous days are still visible. Lovely.

 

But, rather worryingly, Malgudi Days seems to have some rather overt pro-Hindu imagery in this early story arc. Whether this is true of the entire series remains to be seen, but the early episodes don’t set a very good precedent. 

There is, admittedly, a lot of Hindu imagery in Narayan’s original material, but most of this is either directly tied to the plot or presented with a dry irony and wry humour that mocks more than preaches. 

Some of the changes the serial makes, however, are a little troubling. Mildly troubling, and not ZOMG troubling, but troubling nonetheless. 

Barely five minutes into the first episode, the gods have made an appearance, and the serial seems to posit the calm and peaceful presence of the Hindu gods (with calm and peaceful music, no less):

…with the ‘fanatical rage’ (The serial’s words, not mine) of the Christian missionaries. The very next image, after the above two, is of the Scripture teacher  twisting Swami’s ear, who screams in pain:

The twisting of ear prompts Swami’s father to draft a letter to the headmaster:

A move his friends are entirely in support of:

Now, in the original book, this particular situation is nuanced much differently. The scripture master, while still described as a ‘fanatic’, launches tirades against Hinduism, and Swami, as a brahmin boy, cannot bring himself to accept a god who ‘drinks wine and eats flesh’:

Ebenezer’s face became purple with rage as he thought of Sri Krishna…’Did our Jesus go about stealing butter like that arch-scoundrel Krishna? Did our Jesus practice dark tricks on those around him?’

…

Swaminathan put to him another question, ‘If he was a god, why did he eat flesh and fish and drink wine?’ As a brahmin boy, it was inconceivable to him that a god should be non-vegetarian.’

Swami and Friends, R.K. Narayan (Chennai: Indian Thought Publications, 2008) page 4.

The serial doesn’t feature this exchange at all.

In the book, Swami’s friends are not entirely in support of the complaint about the Scripture master: and even if they are, its for no other reason than the sheer boredom they face in his class. The mock outrage of  ’Why does he make fun of our gods?’ is not present. Also, one of Swami’s friends – Samuel the Pea – is caught in a rather difficult moral situation because of the complaint.

In the serial, Sam’s religion is left ambiguous (He’s never called Sam, only ‘The Pea’), and its almost an implied assumption that all of Swami’s friends are Hindu. 

 

Anyways, more on this later. I’ll need to watch further to come to more definite conclusions. If you’ve never seen Malgudi Days, though – now is a good time…the DVDs are cheap, and easily available, and its a well-made, sweet serial with simple, but effective storylines. (Twitter-worthy review, right there).

Homecoming

Ah, home.

I’m back just in time to see a new front opening in the ongoing war between my father’s arsenal of chemical weaponry, and an increasingly mutant cockroach army.

Resilient to all known sprays and powders, and no doubt smug under the mistaken impression that they’ll be the rulers of the world once the inevitable nuclear war comes along, the super mutant cockroaches have begun brazenly overstepping ceasefire lines, carefully delineated with those ‘Lakshman Rekha‘ mystery sticks that are either pest control placebos or stolen alien technology. 

The aforementioned new front is, well, the actual house. Discontent with skulking along dark corners, and scuttling under kitchen counters, the cockroaches are taking advantage of my parents’ absence, and freely roaming the floors and passageways. 

I don’t condone chemical warfare (and its not like its having any use anyway), and random sweeps of the broom seem to do little.

The little alcove near the back door is already theirs, and large ant concentrations in the second bedroom suggest a tactical retreat, which means they’re massing near the kitchen corridor. Reconnaissance missions have so far revealed little, but atleast four Skulker divisions have been sighted (the needlessly expensive Binoculars finally put to good use), and Ant forager units have been disappearing on previously neutral ground.

A scout reports seeing little plumes of smoke from the back, and the distinct (to insects, atleast) corrosive odour of nuclear radiation. 

Power plants. War factories. Protoss Pylons. Siege Workshops. 

But war is not coming to Customs Colony.

Not while negotiation channels are still open.

Last Delhi Post. Promise.

Things I’m leaving behind:

The historical marker and ever-vigilant Spiderman

My wall of Chacha Chaudhary posters

Towels (They're a bit of a health hazard)

Weekend Adventures: Nostalgia Edition

It’s been a while since I’ve posted a Weekend Adventures (notice the grammatical conundrum the title presents), and since I’m leaving Delhi, it seems like a good time for some out-takes from my year here.

The empty, bombed-out floor in my old office building. I used to love running away from my desk to come stare out the windows here. And play ominous post-apocalyptic music in my head.

More post-apocalypty goodness

The sentiment is understandable.

If meals at 3:30 A.M had a name, this would be the best place to have them.

The 'Computer Man' mascot we saw all over Uttarakhand.

Professor Layton and The Lego Man from an old birthday gift I made.

He's famous, apparently.