The Most Offensive Ad Ever?

I saw it on rottentomatoes.com, which is a fairly reputable website, and it's advertising a major retail video game, not some Flash crap. But the ad itself... wow. Where do I even start? I'll just let you be appalled for yourself.

And double shame on you if you tried to click it. :o!

A Memory from High School: MUN

I took a Model United Nations class mostly for fun, since it would be an easy grade and I've always been interested in politics. That was around the time I was hitting my version of the senior slump, in which I just started taking classes out of fun and interest rather than a sense of obligation, particularly since I had already taken most of the classes I needed to graduate. For years, the MUN class had been taught by the father of a friend of mine, but that year a woman was teaching it who hadn't taught it before.

The overwhelming impression I have in my memory is of her humorous incompetence. It became fairly clear early on that she didn't understand Robert's Rules of Order or even much of modern politics. Being handy with a piece of news trivia or a well-crafted piece of BS would guarantee you a pass. I also remember that we were given entire class sessions with the nebulous instruction of researching the non-government organizations or countries we were meant to represent. Inevitably, those classes turned into sharing fun links with each other and trying to trick each other into going to whitehouse.com. (It was a pretty infamous porn site at the time; I'm not sure what it is now. Those were the days some people still navigated by typing in the name of what they wanted and adding a .com to it. Yes, there was internet before Google.) I remember that my friend Dima would regularly give the teacher trouble by calling her out on her ignorance, but I was particularly impressed when my friend Steve refused to do something she demanded of us since it was so childish and we were high school students. I don't remember what the task was, but that was the first time I had witnessed open rebellion from an excellent student. (Steve was, and I'm sure continues to be, a whiz in the sciences.) I also remember that, when we were told to make up fictional countries for debate, I created an impoverished country run by a theocratic Christian dictatorship. Someone else created a society dominated by robots, where humans were the slaves. Good times.

The memory that brought about this reminiscing is that, when we were getting on the buses to go to an event in another city, we were supposed to have our suits on, and I forgot. It was early in the morning, before the sun was even up, and the teacher gave me a real tongue-lashing outside the idling bus with most of the students already on board. She at first refused to even let me on the bus. It was a real ego shock for me, a reversal of power that my slip had allowed the teacher the class had until then almost completely undermined, and it stayed with me as an illustration of the way a mistake can give someone else power over me--particularly someone I had until then practically dominated.

Nothing in particular brought about this memory. It's just something I remembered.

Spartacus: Blood and Sand

I thought I would be disappointed in the highly advertised Starz TV show based on the life of Spartacus. I'm certainly not fond of the over-produced, sentimental mess that is the Kirk Douglas movie.

Watching the first episode made me a believer. The world of Spartacus is brutal, dark, and treacherous. After pitched battles with Getae, who are depicted as subhuman barbarians, that are strongly reminiscent of the best stylized violence of 300, the Thracians (of whom Spartacus is the de facto leader) decide it is better to defend their villages than follow Roman orders. The Romans, protesting that this is treason, crush the Thracians, whose village is burned by the Getae.

The first episode was particularly cinematic, with long shots of broad vistas and several creative cross-cuts from scene to scene. The scope is epic and the pacing is brisk (neither of which the show could maintain, but that's the nature of television). I enjoyed the choice of making blood spray behind the action as backdrop rather than as part of the scene, which is both awesomely over the top and stylized. That's not to say the violence isn't intense: limbs are removed and bodies are mangled.

Later episodes, once Spartacus is a gladiator, skimp more on the highly elaborate shots as well as the ultraviolence, but one has to expect that in television. The show also slows down from the sweeping majesty of total war to the day to day brutality of gladiator life; it's not a welcome change, but my disappointment at being hemmed in and hobbled by the change of scope is, I'm sure, something like Spartacus's own frustration at life as a gladiator.

Though the action tames itself somewhat and even the erotic splendor of the first episodes fades to slightly more tasteful (or less tasteless) shots, the show maintains a pacing to keep my appetite whetted like a good blade. Also, by then I had enough attachment to the characters to pull me through.

Though some of the characters are fairly detestable, even some of Spartacus's enemies are fully drawn characters. I was pleasantly surprised that Crixus, the best gladiator in the ludus that also own Spartacus, doesn't just antagonize Spartacus but also struggles to win the heart of a female slave despite his coarseness.

My biggest complaint is Spartacus's recurring visions of his wife. It's getting to the point that it's almost like "Harvey" in Farscape. That's bad.

The swearing and sex are rather too much for my taste, but the action and the surprisingly intricate drama keeps me coming back. I only hope they keep up the promise of the show by continuing to develop the plot rather than focus only on the sex and violence.

Happy Birthday, Chucky D!

Today is Charles Darwin's birthday. Unfortunately, it's difficult to wish him a happy birthday, as his theories continue to be attacked and mocked by the ignorant and superstitious. Though his theories about the origin of species were not perfect, they form the basis for evolutionary theory as we know it today. To clarify, evolution is a fact, not a theory. It is the exact process, natural selection, through which evolution occurs that is a theory, though evidence for it continues to mount.

All I can say about this is that, at a time, people believed the Earth was at the center of the solar system, so much so that they accused anyone of heresy that postulated that the Sun might instead be the center. Now, all reasonable people accept that the Earth revolves around the Sun.

It is a sad truth that superstition continues to attack science and reason. Though some may provide "evidence" to the contrary until their faces turn blue, I take heart in Galileo's (supposedly) muttered words after recanting before the Inquisiton: "Eppur si muove." Despite what men might say or believe, the Earth moves.

It is one in the morning. Do you know where your Akuma is?

There is something in a man that seeks out competition, even conflict. There is something that yearns to be the best, that seeks to defeat and destroy the opposition and see his enemies scattered at his feet. The noblest form of this pursuit is the duel, and the true modern duel is the fighting game. Well, that and martial arts.

I have never really been a Street Fighter player. Sure, there was the youthful crush in the arcade when I was around ten, followed by brief dalliances with emulators and a fling with the Capcom characters in Marvel vs. Capcom 2. The truth is, ever since I got my Dreamcast, my one true love has been Soul Calibur. Compared to Soul Calibur's dynamic rhythm of dance, Street Fighter is a combo frenzy, more brutal and less artistic. Plus Soul Calibur had weapons and a late medieval theme, while Street Fighter has offensive stereotypes. As a young man, I played Soul Calibur for hours on end, beating every single mission in the first game (even the ones that warned you how difficult they were) and logging untold hours on Soul Calibur, Soul Calibur 2, and Soul Calibur 4. We skipped 3. Not sure why.

My Soul Competitur moved away a few years ago, however, and my circle of friends are Street Fighter fans. So, like a boxer teaching himself jujitsu so he can get into MMA, I had to teach myself Street Fighter IV. It was a struggle, especially considering some of my friends have been playing Street Fighter at least as long as I've been playing Soul Calibur, and their power level is right around, say, NINE THOUSAAAAND. But if this was the way I was going to get my fighting, I would see it through.

I learned quickly that the charge characters are completely contrary to my brain's way of processing moves, so I switched to the circle characters. I also had the advantage of having played Darkstalkers as a teenager, which taught me all the basic circle moves (half roll forward, tap forward+half roll forward, double attack buttons for EX moves, etc.). (I know Darkstalkers also has charge characters. But those characters suck.)

After experimenting with a few of the characters, I settled on Akuma. Above all other reasons, he is the ultimate badass, a fireball-flinging maniac with glowing red eyes and a supervillain's sense of superiority over the human race. Plus his super move is identical to Morrigan's from Darkstalkers, which is also a plus.

Though I have worked to forge myself into a warrior in this new art, I have continued to lag behind, getting increasingly frustrated along the way as I saw Akuma hit the dust again and again. Finally, I made a decision. In order to be the very best with Akuma, I would set myself the goal of beating all of his hard trials. (This would also give me some nifty icons to use for myself in online multiplayer, which is lovely.) This was quite some task, as I was still struggling with the normal trials.

Trials are a series of combos of increasing complexity that you have to perform on a standing opponent. Some are frustratingly hard. Others are even more difficult.

I finally beat the normal trials, sometimes taking as much as half an hour per trial, but then I moved on to the first hard trial. And I could not do it. I spent two hours late into one night trying without success. I just couldn't pull off the focus cancel move in time. Every time I was either too late with it or the focus attack would go off instead of cancelling into another move, wasting too much time.

But I was driven. Like a dog with his teeth in his prize, I did not want to let go. Like that boxer after getting his face pounded out of shape his first night of MMA, I refused to let it get the better of me. I was going to become a warrior, no matter how much longer it took. I tried again the next morning for another hour without success. And more that night, with building frustration and swearing, alternating soothing Akuma to console him on his failure and threatening him to shape up or else. Finally, by what felt like pure luck, I did it. After copious pelvic thrusting and a victory dance I was ashamed even my TV could see, I moved on.

The next trials brought the same level of frustration. I would try for hours, take a break, and come back. My brain was aching. I was learning to string together moves from pure muscle memory, though even then it was a matter of trying it over and over until all the stars aligned and it went off perfectly. The third trial was relatively easy, and the fourth was a matter of getting the tricky timing down. Then it came down to the fifth and last trial.

It was brutal. To say the timing was split-second would be an understatement: even a fraction of a second would have given me some leeway, and this sadistic trial gave me none. If it's true that the jiffy is the very shortest possible measure of time, then I was measuring the timing in jiffies. Not only that, but I had to stand the character in the exact right place. EXACT. Too close, and he would do the wrong move. Too far away, and the move wouldn't land.

It went on for hours. I didn't eat. Papers went ungraded. I told myself I would stop at 7. Then 8. Then midnight. I practiced each step of the sequence individually and in tandem with the steps around it. I had to get every move down perfectly. My thumbs changed colors. They became sore, then numb.

"It's not your fault, Akuma. I know you're trying."

"Damn you, Akuma! Just do what I tell you!"

"Are you playing with me, Akuma? Is this fun for you? Do you like to see me hurt?"

"I just don't know if this relationship is going to work, Akuma."

"I'm sorry, Akuma. Don't be cross. You know I don't mean any of those hurtful things I said."

And copious swearing.

Finally, at precisely 1:01 in the morning, I did it. Through some random chance, through some combination of providence and sheer tenacity, because even if I can pull it off only once in ten thousand tries it has to go off right some time, I did it. And then I went to bed.

I wish I could say that I don't feel a sense of accomplishment, that I realized at the end how empty and meaningless succeeding at a video game is. I know none of this translates into real world skills and I can't put "Passed all of Akuma's Hard Trials in Street Fighter IV" on my resume. I know in twenty years no one will care about Street Fighter.

But I do feel accomplishment. I set myself on a task that seemed almost impossible and I did it. My thumbs are still hurting, as I'm reminded every time I tap the spacebar. I wouldn't be at all surprised if some facts about plate tectonics or the Cambrian explosion or the Hapsburg dynasty have been displaced in favor of the exact timing of Light Hurricane Kick -> Gorshoryuken. But I did it. Akuma is supreme. I am Akuma.

By the way, I also beat the game on Hardest Difficulty. But that was nothing compared to this.

((PS I know Akuma is called Gouki in Japan, but I don't care. These are the facts: M. Bison is white, Vega wears a mask, and Balrog is a boxer. While we're at it, I'll probably always say "Rye-you" rather than "Ree-you". That's just the way it is. Oh, and I did grade the papers during a break in gaming. I may be driven, but I'm not negligent.))

HAPPY ROBERT E. HOWARD DAY

TODAY I WILL WRITE MY BLOG IN ALL CAPS TO SIMULATE ME YELLING THE WAY ROBERT E. HOWARD USED TO YELL WHEN HE WAS WRITING HIS STORIES ON HIS TYPEWRITER. ROBERT E. HOWARD WAS BORN ON JANUARY 22 (OR 24, DEPENDING ON THE DOCUMENTATION YOU LOOK AT). AT ANY RATE, AS YOU HAVE PROBABLY NOTICED IF YOU READ THIS BLOG, BOB HOWARD IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE WRITERS. HE DIDN'T HAVE THE TECHNICAL SKILL OF YOUR TOLSTOYS OR YOUR DICKENSES, AND HE CERTAINLY DOESN'T ENJOY THE POPULARITY OF TOLKIEN (WHO I WOULD ON ANY OTHER DAY NOT DARE TO CALL INFERIOR TO HOWARD FOR FEAR OF UPSETTING THE FANBOYS, BUT BY CROM, ON HIS BIRTHDAY I MIGHT AS WELL COME OUT AND SAY IT: HOWARD WAS THE BETTER WRITER), BUT HIS STORIES ARE FILLED WITH ADVENTURE, EXOTIC LOCATIONS, AND LARGER THAN LIFE CHARACTERS WHO NOT ONLY LEAP BUT FLYING AXE-CHOP OFF THE PAGE. MANY OF THE TROPES HE ORIGINATED BECAME FANTASY CLICHES. CONAN THE CIMMERIAN IS OBVIOUSLY THE MOST WELL KNOWN OF HIS CREATIONS, BUT MANY OF HIS WORKS STILL INFLUENCE WRITERS INDIRECTLY TODAY--THE IMAGE OF THE PURITAN-DRESSED HERO FIGHTING EVIL WHICH WE SEE IN EVERYTHING FROM WARHAMMER TO VAN HELSING STARTED WITH HOWARD'S SOLOMON KANE.

phew okay gotta get a cup of water

ROBERT E. HOWARD AND I DO NOT SEEM TO HAVE MUCH IN COMMON. HE LIVED HIS WHOLE LIFE IN TEXAS, AND I HAVE NEVER HAD MUCH AFFINITY FOR THE SOUTH. HE WAS AN AVID SPORTSMAN AND AN ACCOMPLISHED AMATEUR BOXER, AND I SOMETIMES HAVE TROUBLE OPENING TRICKY PACKAGING. HE BELIEVED IN THE NOBILITY OF SAVAGES AND HATED CIVILIZATION, WHILE I BELIEVE TRUE CIVILIZATION IS THE PEAK OF HUMAN EXISTENCE. ON THE OTHER HAND, WE BOTH LOVE HISTORY, THE IMAGINATION, AND ADVENTURE. WE BOTH LOVED BOOKS FROM AN EARLY AGE (LEGENDS SAY HOWARD SNEAKED INTO LIBRARIES AFTER DARK AS A BOY, TOOK OUT BOOKS TO READ AND MAKE NOTES FROM, AND RETURNED THEM THE SAME WAY DAYS LATER). PERHAPS MOST OF ALL, WE BOTH FELT WE WERE BORN IN THE WRONG TIME, AND FOUND A WAY OF EXPRESSING OURSELVES IN BOOKS AND WRITING THAT THE REAL WORLD DOES NOT PROVIDE.

HOWARD IS TRULY A LEGEND, A MAN WHO CREATED SOME DAMN BRILLIANT FICTION AND CHARACTERS THAT HAVE STOOD THE TEST OF TIME. PERHAPS I WILL 'OUTGROW' MY FASCINATION WITH HIM AND HIS CHARACTERS, BUT ALL THE GODS, I HOPE NOT!

REST IN PEACE, BOB HOWARD. YOUR LEGACY LIVES ON.

Edit: of all the tributes to Howard I've read today, this is so far my favorite

Dragons are the Bad Guys

Just a brief note to all writers and filmmakers out there. Dragons are not lonely and misunderstood, the victims of ignorance and superstition. They are not majestic creatures filled with magic and wonder. They are particularly not talking friends of humans.

Dragons are the villains. They symbolize cruelty, greed, and gluttony. They are the ultimate challenge, the ultimate threat, and the ultimate proof of heroism. If you take away the need to kill dragons, you take away part of what makes a hero great. Heroes need mighty foes, and the mightiest foes are dragons.

Also, if dragons are friendly and beautiful, they're just a step above ponies, and we really don't want that.

The Conan Video Game

I'm not reviewing the MMO, for reasons I stated earlier. Instead, I'm reviewing the game for the 360 and PS3.

When I found it used for twelve bucks at GameStop, I wasn't expecting much. I thought it would be some vague attempt at creating a fantasy game with the name tacked onto it, something completely un-Conan with orcs and elves and crap like that. I expected awful graphics, awkward controls, and a storyline that stuck to the source material about as closely as Conan the Destroyer did. Which means not at all.

But I was surprised to find that wasn't the case. The game actually stuck more closely to the original stuff than the books did. Conan looked and acted like Conan should, even throwing out brash quips when he kills his enemies that sound like something straight out of Robert E. Howard, such as "Let Crom judge you" and "I'll cleave your skull to the teeth!"

The storyline was vaguely Conan-esque. My only complaint was that Conan, like many heroes in video games these days, loses his powers after the first mission and has to use experience points to recover them. For some reason, the pieces of his armor are also imbued with magical spells, which he can use as he recovers them piece by piece. As any fan will know, Conan never uses magic. But really, magical power (let's just call it mana) is very rare and the spells aren't much more effective than a good piece of steel, so that does make up for it somewhat.

If you've played God of War, you don't need to know anything to play Conan. The control system is ripped directly from the other game. It's derivitive to the point that it can hardly even be called a different game; the only 'difference' is that Conan can pick up and use the weapons of his enemies. Everything else is precisely the same as God of War. Don't get me wrong; I love a little Kratos action, but Conan could have used his own control system, something more reckless and swashbuckly. Most of the time, the camera behaves and the controls work, but they do sometimes get awkward. Particularly annoying is the need to tap a button to climb walls, and if you don't tap the button quickly, you casually release (and usually fall to your death).

Ron Perlman does the voice of Conan and Claudia Black does the romantic interest, which really lends the game a leg up. Sadly, the graphics don't match; despite this being a PS3/360 title, the graphics don't look any better than many PS2 games I've played.

The stages feel nice and Conan-y, from savage-infested jungles to sand-swallowed cities. At one point, Conan seems to travel to ancient Greece, which felt completely wrong because the Hyborian age is thousands of years before Greece ever existed. But hey, even Howard borrowed from time periods up to the age of piracy, so it's hard to be critical of that. (Conan even appears in one story wearing a buttoned coat and a tricorne hat.) A particular joy was a demon-worshipping cult in a cave that kept killer gorillas. (Howard included gorillas as villains almost as often as he used snakes.)

One surprising pleasure was the boss fights. Apart from the interminable final fight in which you have to repeat the same process four times to defeat the end boss, the boss fights are all unique and interesting. Half the time, it's more about solving puzzles than about button mashing. The game does incorporate push-button cutscenes, which I hate, but you can't have everything.

Because of the gratuitously topless women and the over-the-top gore, the game will appeal only to a limited number of fans. Robert E. Howard himself was never above making a buck from his own creations at the price of the world's 'integrity,' so I can see him approving of this game. Though it's derivitive, there are worse ways to spend ten bucks.