Streetlight Manifesto probably isn't a band a lot of people have heard of unless they're into ska-punk. They are, in my opinion, one of the greatest bands of all time. Their lyrics are wonderful stories, poems, dreams set to melancholy music that is at the same time both sad and uplifting. I can soundly say that I love everything about them. That is why it breaks my heart when I see all the terrible things they go through.
In 2005, they were robbed twice, the first time in October where $80,000 worth of gear was stolen, and then again in November in Paris, France where they lost, "the one expensive piece of equipment that wasn't stolen in last month's
debacle, a 24 track hard drive recorder we've been using to document
our live shows".
Since they first signed with Victory records, there had been problems. These problems are well-documented and if you're interested in the history, go to those links and enjoy being saddened by a broken music industry machine. If that's too much reading for you, to sum it up: Victory is being so hostile to their artists, namely Streetlight in this case, that Streetlight is asking people to boycott their music unless bought directly from them. This includes - allegedly (gotta keep things legal) - withholding royalties from the group as well as putting a stop to music releases they have no right to put a stop to. Again, this stuff is well-documented by the band and also RISC Store organizer, Dave.
If you go to the RISC Store right now - the band's personal merch store - you will be met with a friendly pop up window informing you of all the latest troubles. This is only following this one which informed us that lead singer Tomas Kalnoky's 3-piece acoustic trio, Toh Kay's, accompaniment album to Streelight's new record, The Hands that Thieve - entitled, appropriately, The Hand that Thieves - had been cancelled.
I once had faith in the necessity of the music industry; had faith that there was a ladder and prestige in place for a reason. Now all I see are bullies and I can't stand it. If you like the music that these guys are putting out, or even just some of the awesome t-shirts and art prints available at the RISC Store, or if you're a dedicated creative content creator yourself, please, I implore you to support them. They could really use it. I am.
Mahalo.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Monday, May 6, 2013
A World Where Nothing Can Go Right, And No One Can Be Happy
That is a really depressing title. It's something we've all often thought about of our own world. Maybe just of the worlds we create if we are creators of fiction. We throw massive obstacles in the way of our characters to advance the story, sure, but sometimes just to make them suffer. I am a malevolent writer-god and I know it. Am proud of it.
It may surprise many when I say that I only recently (this year) have started watching - and am some ways through - cult classics Veronica Mars and Battlestar Galactica (2004 version). I was late to these two parties, but I am drunk and having a blast, screaming at the top of my lungs.
I didn't think much of the idea of Veronica Mars when I was in high school - it seemed like a show a boy shouldn't watch and I was embarrassed by what others thought of me. High school was pretty easy for me most of the time, but I was just as susceptible to my peers' opinions of me as the next emotionally unbalanced teen.
Having left the profound dumbness of all that behind, I dove headlong into Veronica Mars and am loving the ride. I've just started season 3 and love it still but it's confirmed something I felt from the start with this show. Nothing can ever go right and no one can be happy. This is never more true than the continuing story of Eli "Weevil" Navarro. Just goddamn. Lift up, crash down.
Season 2 was incredibly dour if but also exceedingly well-written, with a final episode that really punches you right in the gut. It just plays for keeps this show.
I get the same feeling when I watch Battlestar. This show doesn't fuck around. The reason I wanted to start watching it was actually because of the strategic board game - which is amazing and I highly recommend. At the end of every person's turn you must take a "Crisis card" wherein something impossibly awful happens to the crew or the ships - keeping in mind that up to at least 3 of the players can be Cylons.You keep through these 'missions', jumping in Faster Than Light (FTL) until you finally reach New Caprica (8 jumps).
When I started watching the show, I realized how accurate this was a representation of the life of those unfortunate enough to exist in the show's universe. Nothing good can ever happen. No one can be happy. You get a brief reprieve when something minutely good happens - someone didn't die! something got fixed! people are drinking and laughing! - before the show just gut-punches you again.
Again, this show is exceptionally well-written and cast and I can't recommend it highly enough. It will certainly keep you guessing. I'm in the middle of season 3 and I left myself at a massive cliff-hanger and I just want to skip work, go home and find out what happens!
It was just interesting for me to notice that a lot of the shows I absolutely adore contain - more often than not - awful things happening to good people and the seeming endlessness of their suffering. This applies to Game of Thrones too, though it has significantly more victories in it - and if you watch the show, you know that that's saying something.
Mahalo.
It may surprise many when I say that I only recently (this year) have started watching - and am some ways through - cult classics Veronica Mars and Battlestar Galactica (2004 version). I was late to these two parties, but I am drunk and having a blast, screaming at the top of my lungs.
I didn't think much of the idea of Veronica Mars when I was in high school - it seemed like a show a boy shouldn't watch and I was embarrassed by what others thought of me. High school was pretty easy for me most of the time, but I was just as susceptible to my peers' opinions of me as the next emotionally unbalanced teen.
Having left the profound dumbness of all that behind, I dove headlong into Veronica Mars and am loving the ride. I've just started season 3 and love it still but it's confirmed something I felt from the start with this show. Nothing can ever go right and no one can be happy. This is never more true than the continuing story of Eli "Weevil" Navarro. Just goddamn. Lift up, crash down.
Season 2 was incredibly dour if but also exceedingly well-written, with a final episode that really punches you right in the gut. It just plays for keeps this show.
I get the same feeling when I watch Battlestar. This show doesn't fuck around. The reason I wanted to start watching it was actually because of the strategic board game - which is amazing and I highly recommend. At the end of every person's turn you must take a "Crisis card" wherein something impossibly awful happens to the crew or the ships - keeping in mind that up to at least 3 of the players can be Cylons.You keep through these 'missions', jumping in Faster Than Light (FTL) until you finally reach New Caprica (8 jumps).
When I started watching the show, I realized how accurate this was a representation of the life of those unfortunate enough to exist in the show's universe. Nothing good can ever happen. No one can be happy. You get a brief reprieve when something minutely good happens - someone didn't die! something got fixed! people are drinking and laughing! - before the show just gut-punches you again.
Again, this show is exceptionally well-written and cast and I can't recommend it highly enough. It will certainly keep you guessing. I'm in the middle of season 3 and I left myself at a massive cliff-hanger and I just want to skip work, go home and find out what happens!
It was just interesting for me to notice that a lot of the shows I absolutely adore contain - more often than not - awful things happening to good people and the seeming endlessness of their suffering. This applies to Game of Thrones too, though it has significantly more victories in it - and if you watch the show, you know that that's saying something.
Mahalo.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Defiance: Welcome to the Fold
I just finished watching the series premiere of the new SciFi program Defiance that takes elements of Firefly and Farscape and pushes them together to make something just as awesome. The Farscape influence is not only clear but definitely not accidental as one of the developers was none other than Rockne S. O'Bannon.
The show is a nice mix of post-apocalyptic war, sci-fi and Western with Dexter veteran Julie Benz as the Mayor of the town of Defiance and Australian-grown Grant Bowler as Nolan, the Han Solo-style ex-marine turned lawman. The first episode introduces you to the new Earth in 2046 where alien races have arrived and, after a long war, a shaky peace has been established. In the new frontier-style world everyone must fight to survive where of course the races don't necessarily all get along. The world is very much a character in this show, too, which is wonderful.
The characters are full and, although not complete yet, I expect them to be people to be reckoned with. There is already a family feud, a sassy brothel-owner, a wise-cracking doctor, a traveling ex-marine and his alien daughter - it promises to be quite a ride. This pilot episode is even remnant of the first episode of Firefly with its fighting and Farscape in its creative alien make-up.
Most interestingly is the idea that there is a video game of Defiance which ties directly into the show and things in the show affect the game and vise versa, so it will be intriguing to see how the experiences mirror and change each other.
My only fear is that this will become another wonderful one season show if not enough people watch it - so please get out there and check it out!
Mahalo.
The show is a nice mix of post-apocalyptic war, sci-fi and Western with Dexter veteran Julie Benz as the Mayor of the town of Defiance and Australian-grown Grant Bowler as Nolan, the Han Solo-style ex-marine turned lawman. The first episode introduces you to the new Earth in 2046 where alien races have arrived and, after a long war, a shaky peace has been established. In the new frontier-style world everyone must fight to survive where of course the races don't necessarily all get along. The world is very much a character in this show, too, which is wonderful.
The characters are full and, although not complete yet, I expect them to be people to be reckoned with. There is already a family feud, a sassy brothel-owner, a wise-cracking doctor, a traveling ex-marine and his alien daughter - it promises to be quite a ride. This pilot episode is even remnant of the first episode of Firefly with its fighting and Farscape in its creative alien make-up.
Most interestingly is the idea that there is a video game of Defiance which ties directly into the show and things in the show affect the game and vise versa, so it will be intriguing to see how the experiences mirror and change each other.
My only fear is that this will become another wonderful one season show if not enough people watch it - so please get out there and check it out!
Mahalo.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
The Old Devil's at it Again
"I'll fix it so you get cheap drinks," the woman at the bar said. "What band are you with?"
Before I could stop myself, I was saying, "William Elliott Whitmore."
"Oh, of course," the woman said. She sold us our drinks at five bucks apiece was gone, disappeared into the back room.
"What just happened?" I turned to Omar.
"Ticketed people get cheaper drinks, I think," he said, sipping his Jack and coke.
"I don't think that's right," I said. I turned and looked at the poster of punk rock, bluegrass artist William Elliott Whitmore. "I think she thinks I'm in the band with him. Because I sound like an American."
"Oh," Omar said. "You might be right."
The woman emerged from the back room and handed me the owner of the Annandale's card, "Show this at the bar and all your drinks will be at the special price," and she was gone again.
"No, this isn't right," I said.
"You're probably right."
We waited for the woman to return and when she did I said, "Excuse me, I think there's been some mistake. We're not with William Elliott Whitmore, we're just here to see him."
"Oh, oh my goodness," she said, taking the card back as I handed it to her.
"It's just, I'm Canadian, so," I started.
"See, this is me being racist," she laughed. "Thanks for being honest."
"It's all right," I said. "It would've eaten at me all night. And you would suspected something when I didn't go up on stage tonight."
"I'd have found you and hurt you," she smiled.
The night promised many excellent things. The drinks, the excited buzz of the crowd, this was going to be good. So it was such a disappointment when, at 8:30, Nick van Breer went up first and was terrible. He awkwardly introduced himself and his song and began playing. The way he sang sounded like two things. One, as if he'd never been near a microphone before and two, as if it were still breaking at the age of 25. The writing of said songs was as if he wrote them at the age of fourteen and had never bothered to rework them. Over the din of the crowd that was ignoring him sailed the words, "she walked away" and "we can take on the world/like we always wanted to".
Sufficed to say, Omar and I were done with him, too.
Even when he brought up banjoist Dave and they dueled on banjos for a while, it was unimpressive and dry. The banjos were too quiet and the vocals too boring.
When his set finished at 9:15, we were not confident about the second opener.
"Let him be up and done," I said. "Bring on William!"
"Who knows," Omar said, finishing his Jack. "He could be really good."
"I doubt--"
And through my doubt blared a sound. The sound of passion striking a guitar with force and a blazing harmonica solo. A tall man, thin and bearded, was Lincoln le Fevre. He wore a sailor-style cap and beat on that guitar, brow-beating the audience into silent admiration. Then, after a blissful moment of passionate playing, he sang the song a Capella, right into our hearts.
"We're so bored, we're so bored of this," was his passionate cry.
And the audience sang it back.
The man knew what he was doing. This was what confidence looked like.
With power in his belly and fire in his heart, he sang to us stories of lost loves and drinking and home. Everything he said resonated. His meter and words were outstanding.
"All right," Lincoln said. "Here's the point in the show where I try to break your hearts."
"What have you been doing up until now, buddy?" Omar said next to me, his face a mask of awe, like mine.
"I haven't played this one live before," Lincoln said. "So it could be shit. Or not. Cool story, Lincoln, shut up."
Laughter.
People were listening to what this man said and for a reason.
When he finally finished up, Omar rushed like a speeding car out to the merch table and bought us each a copy of his CD Resonation. I recommend it.
"I met him at the bar," Omar said when he got back. "He's really nice."
"Hey," a voice from the stage said, "How's everybody doin'?"
After only a few minutes of wait and setting up his gear himself, there he was - Mr. William Elliott Whitmore.
"Can I start early?" he seemed to be asking us. "Or should I just go ahead backstage and get stoned?"
The bar staff seemed to say that he could start whenever he wanted.
"Well, all right then," he drank from his beer. "Let's do this then."
Then began a wonderful hour and ten minutes of musical joy. His songs were either played on guitar, banjo or just a Capella. He had a bass drum with which to add beat and force when needed.
He played with mirth and hunger and violence and passion. It was magical.
"I don't really like to do a set list," he said after the first three songs. "So just shout out what you wanna hear. I'm happy to oblige."
Although my cries of "I'm Diggin' my Grave" went unanswered, the set list was amazing, including "Hell or High Water" and "Old Devils".
"Getting arrested is one of the worst things ever," he said at one point. "As soon as those cuffs go on, it's the worst feeling. You feel like an animal. And they make an inventory of all the stuff you had on you at the time. One beer bottle, one dirty handkerchief, one empty chip packet in pocket. Why did they write that one down? Why did I even have it?" he drinks from his beer. "I told them it was for sentimental reasons. Anyway, this song's called Johnny Law."
He kept playing and we kept begging for more.
At one point, the man was handed a shot from the bar. Someone had bought him a drink.
"Why thank you," he said. "What's your name?"
"Josh!"
"Well Josh, I'll pay you back," he said. And he meant it. "I'll sip this like a gentleman."
He shot the shot back.
"I'm so happy to be here," he said. "This is feeling so good. So close. I'm just happy to be anywhere. To be alive. Thank you all so much for coming out. Really, from the bottom of my heart, thank you."
The experience was beautiful as his songs washed over us. At the end, Omar and I went up and shook his hand. He was so genuinely pleasant and affable that it only added to how wonderful it all was.
I stopped by the merch table and said thank you to Lincoln.
Our buses had run out so Omar and I walked to Central station and then took the train home. It was one a.m. when we got to bed and we'd be tired for work tomorrow. But we didn't care at all.
Before I could stop myself, I was saying, "William Elliott Whitmore."
"Oh, of course," the woman said. She sold us our drinks at five bucks apiece was gone, disappeared into the back room.
"What just happened?" I turned to Omar.
"Ticketed people get cheaper drinks, I think," he said, sipping his Jack and coke.
"I don't think that's right," I said. I turned and looked at the poster of punk rock, bluegrass artist William Elliott Whitmore. "I think she thinks I'm in the band with him. Because I sound like an American."
"Oh," Omar said. "You might be right."
The woman emerged from the back room and handed me the owner of the Annandale's card, "Show this at the bar and all your drinks will be at the special price," and she was gone again.
"No, this isn't right," I said.
"You're probably right."
We waited for the woman to return and when she did I said, "Excuse me, I think there's been some mistake. We're not with William Elliott Whitmore, we're just here to see him."
"Oh, oh my goodness," she said, taking the card back as I handed it to her.
"It's just, I'm Canadian, so," I started.
"See, this is me being racist," she laughed. "Thanks for being honest."
"It's all right," I said. "It would've eaten at me all night. And you would suspected something when I didn't go up on stage tonight."
"I'd have found you and hurt you," she smiled.
The night promised many excellent things. The drinks, the excited buzz of the crowd, this was going to be good. So it was such a disappointment when, at 8:30, Nick van Breer went up first and was terrible. He awkwardly introduced himself and his song and began playing. The way he sang sounded like two things. One, as if he'd never been near a microphone before and two, as if it were still breaking at the age of 25. The writing of said songs was as if he wrote them at the age of fourteen and had never bothered to rework them. Over the din of the crowd that was ignoring him sailed the words, "she walked away" and "we can take on the world/like we always wanted to".
Sufficed to say, Omar and I were done with him, too.
Even when he brought up banjoist Dave and they dueled on banjos for a while, it was unimpressive and dry. The banjos were too quiet and the vocals too boring.
When his set finished at 9:15, we were not confident about the second opener.
"Let him be up and done," I said. "Bring on William!"
"Who knows," Omar said, finishing his Jack. "He could be really good."
"I doubt--"
And through my doubt blared a sound. The sound of passion striking a guitar with force and a blazing harmonica solo. A tall man, thin and bearded, was Lincoln le Fevre. He wore a sailor-style cap and beat on that guitar, brow-beating the audience into silent admiration. Then, after a blissful moment of passionate playing, he sang the song a Capella, right into our hearts.
"We're so bored, we're so bored of this," was his passionate cry.
And the audience sang it back.
The man knew what he was doing. This was what confidence looked like.
With power in his belly and fire in his heart, he sang to us stories of lost loves and drinking and home. Everything he said resonated. His meter and words were outstanding.
"All right," Lincoln said. "Here's the point in the show where I try to break your hearts."
"What have you been doing up until now, buddy?" Omar said next to me, his face a mask of awe, like mine.
"I haven't played this one live before," Lincoln said. "So it could be shit. Or not. Cool story, Lincoln, shut up."
Laughter.
People were listening to what this man said and for a reason.
When he finally finished up, Omar rushed like a speeding car out to the merch table and bought us each a copy of his CD Resonation. I recommend it.
"I met him at the bar," Omar said when he got back. "He's really nice."
"Hey," a voice from the stage said, "How's everybody doin'?"
After only a few minutes of wait and setting up his gear himself, there he was - Mr. William Elliott Whitmore.
"Can I start early?" he seemed to be asking us. "Or should I just go ahead backstage and get stoned?"
The bar staff seemed to say that he could start whenever he wanted.
"Well, all right then," he drank from his beer. "Let's do this then."
Then began a wonderful hour and ten minutes of musical joy. His songs were either played on guitar, banjo or just a Capella. He had a bass drum with which to add beat and force when needed.
He played with mirth and hunger and violence and passion. It was magical.
"I don't really like to do a set list," he said after the first three songs. "So just shout out what you wanna hear. I'm happy to oblige."
Although my cries of "I'm Diggin' my Grave" went unanswered, the set list was amazing, including "Hell or High Water" and "Old Devils".
"Getting arrested is one of the worst things ever," he said at one point. "As soon as those cuffs go on, it's the worst feeling. You feel like an animal. And they make an inventory of all the stuff you had on you at the time. One beer bottle, one dirty handkerchief, one empty chip packet in pocket. Why did they write that one down? Why did I even have it?" he drinks from his beer. "I told them it was for sentimental reasons. Anyway, this song's called Johnny Law."
He kept playing and we kept begging for more.
At one point, the man was handed a shot from the bar. Someone had bought him a drink.
"Why thank you," he said. "What's your name?"
"Josh!"
"Well Josh, I'll pay you back," he said. And he meant it. "I'll sip this like a gentleman."
He shot the shot back.
"I'm so happy to be here," he said. "This is feeling so good. So close. I'm just happy to be anywhere. To be alive. Thank you all so much for coming out. Really, from the bottom of my heart, thank you."
The experience was beautiful as his songs washed over us. At the end, Omar and I went up and shook his hand. He was so genuinely pleasant and affable that it only added to how wonderful it all was.
I stopped by the merch table and said thank you to Lincoln.
Our buses had run out so Omar and I walked to Central station and then took the train home. It was one a.m. when we got to bed and we'd be tired for work tomorrow. But we didn't care at all.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Just a Recommendation
I wrote a rant not long ago about how video games don't cause gun violence. If you're still interested in the topic of gun violence and video games, I would highly recommend this article, also from Cracked, that illuminates some of the points I made and extends on them - especially the "video games as living out fantasies".
Mahalo.
Mahalo.
Monday, March 18, 2013
Stop it! Stop. It. Stop.
This can't wait anymore. I've been trying to avoid writing this for a long time, having just sort of skirted around it in polite conversation, but now I can't. I just freaking can't and it's because of a tabloid article I found through Buzzfeed.
I'm going to say this and I'm going to say it once; video games do not cause people to become more violent. Gamers are not some horrible, sadistic group of murderers just waiting for their chance to spring into rage-murder action all over the nightly news. We just simply aren't.
This topic has been breached time and time again and I think it was best summed up by Cracked columnist Robert Brockway.
"Americans are, and always have been, an incredibly violent society," Brockway writes. The first school shooting in this country happened before there was a country."
After Sandy Hook, Joe Biden sat down with a council to try and work out gun legislation and the "role guns have in today's society" with a bunch of video game designers. And now, the New York Daily News is on that trolley. This argument was put forward after Columbine and Virginia Tech. Worse is that Anders Breivik said he used Call of Duty 2 and World of Warcraft to help train himself. Luckily, the rest of that article is condemning the use of video games as the reason for mass shooting is unfair and in fact is being called racist. I recommend checking it out.
Here's the inside scoop, people who don't understand video games: we like them because they are fun, not because they are training us to murder people. What they can do is provide an outlet for rage fantasies.
And don't jump all over me for that because we all do it in our heads. Everyone had had that fantasy of pushing the slow-walking person down the stairs or punching the annoying person so hard in the face that their skull explodes or any number of other ridiculously-over-violent-for-the-situation fantasies. And anyone who says they don't have them is a liar. Video games allow some of us to act out those rage-fantasies in the safe confines of non-reality. Many times after a long day have I said to my roommate, "Excuse me, but I have to go shoot some stuff for a while." And proceeded to kill many, many faceless bandits in Borderlands 2 or zombies in Left 4 Dead and after about an hour of that I feel so much better.
In this vein, you can't have it both ways, America. You can't use video games to help train/recruit for the armed forces and then turn around and say that video games are evil and are making people more violent. People said it of violent films and yet look at films today! They aren't making people more violent, we just appreciate the pretty explosions or stylized violence or excess of blood splatter. Do you know why? Because we know these are fantasy and not reality.
You can bet your ass that if we were to see something that violent in reality it would make us sick. It's one thing to fire a fake gun in a game, it's quite another to fire one in real life. It's one thing to beat up on dragons with your fists (thanks, Skyrim, for that opportunity!) but it's quite another to watch someone being actually bullied and beaten. The internet and the gaming world can sometimes be filled with jerks - like any other world such as sports or business or acting - but we're not full-fledged demon spawn.
Video games don't make us violent. Stop making us villains. Learn what correlation and causation is. Just because they played video games doesn't mean that that's why they did the things they did. It only alienates us and makes parents more worried for their "gamer kids". My folks' only worry for me was that I didn't play outside enough - but that's because my skin is so pasty that I burned so easily!
We're not aliens. We're not monsters. We play them in games but then we come back to reality. We will not become killers because we play video games. We are not violent. More often than not we're the kids who are bullied. And don't argue that this causes us to snap and take out our violence on innocents. While that has happened, doesn't make it a characteristic of all gamers.
Don't let one bad apple spoil our very interesting bunch. We have a lot to offer and we are no different from you except that we have a hobby you don't understand.
Mahalo.
I'm going to say this and I'm going to say it once; video games do not cause people to become more violent. Gamers are not some horrible, sadistic group of murderers just waiting for their chance to spring into rage-murder action all over the nightly news. We just simply aren't.
This topic has been breached time and time again and I think it was best summed up by Cracked columnist Robert Brockway.
"Americans are, and always have been, an incredibly violent society," Brockway writes. The first school shooting in this country happened before there was a country."
After Sandy Hook, Joe Biden sat down with a council to try and work out gun legislation and the "role guns have in today's society" with a bunch of video game designers. And now, the New York Daily News is on that trolley. This argument was put forward after Columbine and Virginia Tech. Worse is that Anders Breivik said he used Call of Duty 2 and World of Warcraft to help train himself. Luckily, the rest of that article is condemning the use of video games as the reason for mass shooting is unfair and in fact is being called racist. I recommend checking it out.
Here's the inside scoop, people who don't understand video games: we like them because they are fun, not because they are training us to murder people. What they can do is provide an outlet for rage fantasies.
And don't jump all over me for that because we all do it in our heads. Everyone had had that fantasy of pushing the slow-walking person down the stairs or punching the annoying person so hard in the face that their skull explodes or any number of other ridiculously-over-violent-for-the-situation fantasies. And anyone who says they don't have them is a liar. Video games allow some of us to act out those rage-fantasies in the safe confines of non-reality. Many times after a long day have I said to my roommate, "Excuse me, but I have to go shoot some stuff for a while." And proceeded to kill many, many faceless bandits in Borderlands 2 or zombies in Left 4 Dead and after about an hour of that I feel so much better.
In this vein, you can't have it both ways, America. You can't use video games to help train/recruit for the armed forces and then turn around and say that video games are evil and are making people more violent. People said it of violent films and yet look at films today! They aren't making people more violent, we just appreciate the pretty explosions or stylized violence or excess of blood splatter. Do you know why? Because we know these are fantasy and not reality.
You can bet your ass that if we were to see something that violent in reality it would make us sick. It's one thing to fire a fake gun in a game, it's quite another to fire one in real life. It's one thing to beat up on dragons with your fists (thanks, Skyrim, for that opportunity!) but it's quite another to watch someone being actually bullied and beaten. The internet and the gaming world can sometimes be filled with jerks - like any other world such as sports or business or acting - but we're not full-fledged demon spawn.
Video games don't make us violent. Stop making us villains. Learn what correlation and causation is. Just because they played video games doesn't mean that that's why they did the things they did. It only alienates us and makes parents more worried for their "gamer kids". My folks' only worry for me was that I didn't play outside enough - but that's because my skin is so pasty that I burned so easily!
We're not aliens. We're not monsters. We play them in games but then we come back to reality. We will not become killers because we play video games. We are not violent. More often than not we're the kids who are bullied. And don't argue that this causes us to snap and take out our violence on innocents. While that has happened, doesn't make it a characteristic of all gamers.
Don't let one bad apple spoil our very interesting bunch. We have a lot to offer and we are no different from you except that we have a hobby you don't understand.
Mahalo.
Starcraft 2: Heart of the Swarm
In the week since it's release, I have seen surprisingly little from my friends about the new Zerg expansion to Starcraft 2, the Kerrigan-focused Heart of the Swarm. Probably because they're all so busy playing it. If you know any Starcraft franchise fans, you know that they're probably knee-deep in empty Coke cans whenever the newest game comes out - especially when this one has been so long in the making.
This new installment in the well-beloved series revolves around Sarah Kerrigan, freshly rescued from being the Queen of Blades by our well-known and lovable hero Jim Raynor. She wakes up alone in a cell under the scrutiny of Valerian Mengsk. They want to make sure she won't return to the Swarm. That she really has become human again.
First, let me just say that this game is beautiful. We've come to expect this from Blizzard - and games in general now - but still, it is definitely worth noting that this game is gorgeous to look at. I wish they made animated films that looked as wonderful as this. Dramas, action-thrillers, westerns - anything could look good with the animation they use in this game's cut-scenes.
What I also very much like is it creates more characters within the Zerg swarm, such as those on board Kerrigan's ship. Abathur, for example, who is the resident Swarm editor. He is terrifying and robotic and familiar and wonderful from his dialogue to the voice acting to the model.
And not to mention the veritable bevvy of named Hive Queens that Kerrigan meets.
What's even more interesting, is that by having these characters, it humanizes the Zerg somewhat, which I suppose was the point - especially in Kerrigan's "re-education" of a certain Hive Queen.
One thing that I fear is that the game will be all too short and perhaps even a little bit too easy, but then again I haven't reached the final missions yet, being too distracted with that time-consuming and money-providing endeavour called "work".
The price was also right for this game, set at a nice $44 (AUD) which marks it as an expansion in the same vein as the old Brood War. If you liked Wings of Liberty, you'll like this. The only bad part so far, is they haven't fixed the whole "we don't do LAN anymore" thing. And also, the annoying thing that buying the game in hard copy doesn't mean you get to install the game from the disc, it just has the downloader on there so you don't have to download it. It still installs the game by downloading it from online. You've been warned.
Mahalo.
This new installment in the well-beloved series revolves around Sarah Kerrigan, freshly rescued from being the Queen of Blades by our well-known and lovable hero Jim Raynor. She wakes up alone in a cell under the scrutiny of Valerian Mengsk. They want to make sure she won't return to the Swarm. That she really has become human again.
First, let me just say that this game is beautiful. We've come to expect this from Blizzard - and games in general now - but still, it is definitely worth noting that this game is gorgeous to look at. I wish they made animated films that looked as wonderful as this. Dramas, action-thrillers, westerns - anything could look good with the animation they use in this game's cut-scenes.
What I also very much like is it creates more characters within the Zerg swarm, such as those on board Kerrigan's ship. Abathur, for example, who is the resident Swarm editor. He is terrifying and robotic and familiar and wonderful from his dialogue to the voice acting to the model.
And not to mention the veritable bevvy of named Hive Queens that Kerrigan meets.
What's even more interesting, is that by having these characters, it humanizes the Zerg somewhat, which I suppose was the point - especially in Kerrigan's "re-education" of a certain Hive Queen.
One thing that I fear is that the game will be all too short and perhaps even a little bit too easy, but then again I haven't reached the final missions yet, being too distracted with that time-consuming and money-providing endeavour called "work".
The price was also right for this game, set at a nice $44 (AUD) which marks it as an expansion in the same vein as the old Brood War. If you liked Wings of Liberty, you'll like this. The only bad part so far, is they haven't fixed the whole "we don't do LAN anymore" thing. And also, the annoying thing that buying the game in hard copy doesn't mean you get to install the game from the disc, it just has the downloader on there so you don't have to download it. It still installs the game by downloading it from online. You've been warned.
Mahalo.
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