Games I Finished in 2020 – Part Two

Posted on February 1, 2021 by toconnell88

Click here to read Part One.

September

Forager

Then you’ve come to the right website, friend!

A 2D indie crafting/building/dungeon-crawler/adventure thing with charming pixel art and an addictive gameplay loop. Like Animal Crossing, Forager is a real slow burn. Tens of hours in, I was still discovering new areas, mechanics and secrets. This sense of discovery held my interest right to the end.

The endgame content was, however, a bit lacklustre. By the time I mopped up the final few achievements, the game had devolved into a monotonous grind. It’s a shame my lingering impressions are of frustration, but I’d still rate this game highly.

Tell Me Why

Beer and fishing D&Ms? 10/10.

A thoroughly enjoyable interactive drama/walking sim from the creators of Life is Strange. As in their past work, this game featured solid writing and interesting characters. I appreciated the shorter overall length and fast (weekly!) turnaround of episodes, as it gave the story greater momentum.

Tell Me Why was full of memorable sequences that employed simple, menial tasks to impart characterisation and develop relationships. These included taking inventory in a general store and a novel sequence where a character struggles to centre herself during a panic attack.

The puzzles were a mixed bag. A memorable one had me snooping through locked police records in search of clues, which required critical thinking and memorisation. I appreciated that the player was given agency here. On the other hand, the ‘Crafty Goblin’ riddles – puzzles with a fairy tale motif – were torturous and hindered the narrative momentum.

I played this game with my girlfriend. Though I was at the wheel, we considered it a collaborative experience. Much like when dissecting a TV show, we discussed where we thought the story was going, shared our impressions of characters and weighed in on the central mysteries, such as who the twins’ father was, what really happened on that fateful night, and which supporting characters were shady. This made the game even more enjoyable and had me anticipating each episode’s release.

Pre-release, a great deal of emphasis was paid to Tyler, one of gaming’s earliest and most prominent examples of trans representation. Tyler’s transition was handled with great care. This story wasn’t explicitly about Tyler’s identity; it was just a cool detail that informed his worldview.

I loved how all the small-town supporting characters navigated Tyler’s transition, something they clearly had no experience with. They wanted to understand and show support, but didn’t always have the right words. I felt this was a realistic portrayal of how such a situation would unfold. The awkward but well-intentioned interactions between, say, Tyler and Sam, or Tyler and Eddy were great.

I was also glad they refrained from including any transphobic antagonists. Not that transphobia isn’t worth exploring, but it was nice to see Tyler embraced and accepted as a regular townsperson. I think this is a great way to normalise LGBTQ+ people in media (making them an organic part of the world and community, rather than having the entire story pivot around their identity). Schitt’s Creek is another good example of this.

All up, Tell Me Why was an excellent addition to the Game Pass roster and further proof that Dontnod are the masters of this sort of interactive storytelling.

Juju

The Care Bears platformer no one asked for.

A short and colourful 2D platformer that plays like an homage to the Donkey Kong Country series (though without the palm-sweating difficulty!). Enjoyable, though fairly basic.

October

Dishonored

The Disgruntled Henchman Convention.

I’m usually too impatient for stealth games, but I made an exception for Dishonored, Arkane Studio’s much-lauded 2012 game. I was drawn to it because of its enduring cult status and the frequent comparisons it receives to Bioshock (I mean, I sort of get it, but not really).

While it fell a little short of my expectations, I still really enjoyed my time with this game. The sprawling, intricately designed levels are an amazing achievement and the freedom afforded to the player is staggering. With the number of tools and routes available, the sky is truly the limit in terms of how the player approaches their objectives. The story itself wasn’t anything remarkable, but the lore, world-building and environmental storytelling were really cool.

Definitely a great game deserving of its reputation. I look forward to playing the sequel eventually.

Tacoma

Fluorescent adolescents.

I started this solely for a Game Pass Quest. As such, I was all set to cash in my Reward points and bounce right off what I assumed was another hum-ho walking simulator. However, to my surprise, I was drawn in by the excellent writing and voice acting.

Tacoma is a uniquely told detective story set on a space station in the wake of a mysterious accident. As the investigator, you comb through holographic recordings left behind by missing crew members to determine what happened. There’s a certain voyeuristic pleasure in this as you’re afforded intimate glimpses into their lives. How they present in a group setting or professional capacity doesn’t always reflect how they feel inside or how they act when they think they’re alone. As such, you soon realise that more went on here than first meets the eye.

The story is presented out of order and with little context. I found piecing it all together very satisfying. There are all manners of twists, deceptions and engaging character moments. In fact, I was surprised how relatable it all felt considering the emphasis on advanced technology. I highly recommend this one.

Don’t Make Love

Warning! NSFW.

A peculiar text-based relationship game about two praying mantises on the precipice of a life-changing choice. Unique and thought-provoking, though really more of an interactive art project.

November

Assassin’s Creed

When you all accidentally buy the same Halloween costume.

I’d always been curious about this intimidatingly long-running series. After accumulating most of the series as Games with Gold giveaways, the time had finally come to dive in. I opted to start with the first entry, but heeded the warnings about it ageing poorly.

For the most part, I enjoyed this. The fluid controls (relative to other third-person action games; I know this entry is positively creaking compared to its successors), awe-inspiring sandbox vistas and fresh mechanics (relative to 2007!) made it fun to play. The story, which reframes historical events as part of an intricate, globe-spanning conspiracy, was super engaging and way ahead of its time.

Really, the only things that let it down were its drab colour palette (hope you like brown!), rudimentary combat system (basically a series of Quick Time Events) and the staggeringly repetitious objectives. However, even in this crude, embryonic state, it was clear to me that Assassin’s Creed was brimming with franchise potential.

Gears of War 4

Titanfalls of War.

A game I’m in two minds about. On one hand, Gears of War 4 was jaw-droppingly beautiful. The production values and general presentation were seriously impressive. I liked the decision to jump ahead in time after Gears of War 3 and revisit this world from the perspective of a new generation. Likewise, while the old characters don’t play too much of a role (outside of Marcus), they’re at least handled respectfully. It was neat seeing where they all ended up.

The controls feel fluid and refined to perfection. By now, the original Gears titles (at least the first two) feel stiff and clunky, but this entry is snappy and responsive, particularly with the leap to 60 frames per second. I can’t understate how much difference this makes to the moment-to-moment gameplay.

There were also cool-as-fuck set pieces that make you feel like you’re playing through the most high-octane action film ever created. One such example are the new windflares, complex environmental hazards that devastate the battlefield in real time.

Gears of Wars 4 introduces an entirely new cast. I liked most of them well enough, although this change also marked a dramatic shift in tone. Instead of being about jaded war veterans fighting for humanity’s survival, this game felt more like the coming-of-age adventure for quippy adolescents.

The campaign was laughably short and ended with next to no fanfare. It felt like they ran out of time and were forced to end the story at an arbitrary point. I suppose it’s better to be short and sweet than to overstay your welcome. Multiplayer has never reliably worked in Australia thanks to ass-backwards region-locked matchmaking, so I can’t really comment there.

The Walking Dead: A New Frontier

Even her stares can kill.

This was the first Xbox game I played through entirely from the comfort of my bed via streaming. I would chip away at it for half an hour or so before drifting off to sleep.

A New Frontier is, in everything but name, the third season of Telltale’s Walking Dead walking simulator series. While you no longer control long-time protagonist Clementine, she still features prominently in the story. You now engage with her from the perspective of ex-pro baseballer and uncle-turned-surrogate-dad Javier García.

I was initially sceptical of this change, but it turned out to just the shot in the arm the series needed. The series was beginning to feel a bit bogged down by Clementine’s history. For example, the second season strained believability in depicting a group of competent adults requesting advice and taking orders from a prepubescent girl. With this new approach, returning players get to meet Clementine anew. This version of her is less wide-eyed; she’s older, embittered, less trusting and utterly ruthless.

I won’t go on all day about this game, but I will say that I really enjoyed it.

Oceanhorn

Starring famed gaming icon Mink from the Saga of Celda series.

Oceanhorn is an isometric action-adventure game that draws obvious inspiration from the Legend of Zelda series (specifically, it plays like A Link to the Past with some Wind Waker window dressing). Its limitations are very apparent, which is understandable as it’s a port of a mobile game made many years ago on a shoestring budget. It has the appearance and scope of an old phone game, with shocking voice acting and sound mixing, and puzzles that are simple to a fault.

While it doesn’t reach the high standards regularly set by Nintendo, I still found Oceanhorn to be enjoyable and charming in its own way. There’s just something timeless about running around verdant fields slashing away at tall grass and deflecting attacks back at unsuspecting enemies. Controls are responsive and the art design is solid. I can’t give it many points for originality, but the game was clearly made by a passionate team with a reverence for Zelda.

December

Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs

Welcome to Vegetarianism.

This game was insane. I trialled it as an Epic Store freebie and liked it enough to buy the Amnesia collection on Xbox One. (Very average port, by the way. Abysmal load times.)

Unlike its predecessor Amnesia: Dark Descent, A Machine for Pigs sheds the survival elements to become a full-fledged puzzle game/walking simulator. As a newcomer to this series, I didn’t mind at all and was more so enthralled by the clever writing and incredible vocal performances. It tells the story of a father who wakes up amnesia-stricken to find his children are gone. What follows is a complex and harrowing tale of a brilliant man’s descent to madness.

The atmosphere is the true highlight of this game. Despite the limitations of its dated engine, the environments still drew me in and immersed me in this world, proving again that thoughtful art direction trumps technical ability any day. Scares were so infrequent that they really commanded your attention when they happened. The game’s monsters, the iconic Man-Pigs, are horrifying in both concept and design. Underrated gem.

Deconstructing My Favourite Songs of 2020

Posted on December 24, 2020 by toconnell88

The Strokes – At the Door

A sparse, powerful track about the dissolution of Julian Casablanca’s marriage. Yeah, Is This It is great and everything, but I believe this is the band’s masterpiece. Julian gives an electrifying vocal performance in which he has never sounded more vulnerable. The lyrics are raw and honest, and the hurt in his voice is palpable.

I can’t escape it.

Never gonna make it out of this in time.

I guess that’s just fine.

I’m not there quite yet.

My thoughts such a mess.

Like a little boy.

What you running from?

Run at the door.

Anyone home?

Have I lost it all?

Struck me like a chord.

I’m an ugly boy.

You begged me not to go.

Sinking like a stone.

Use me like an oar.

Get yourself to shore.

I can’t see beyond this wall.

We lost this game so many times before.

Sufjan Stevens – Video Game

In ‘Video Game’, the lead single from his 2020 release The Ascension, Sufjan Stevens offers an incisive critique of modern culture and a stark rejection of social media. The song is about working hard without seeking accolades and rewards, which, today, are often quantified by likes, followers, listeners and views.

I don’t want to be your personal Jesus.

I don’t want to live inside of that flame.

I don’t want to be the centre of the universe.

I don’t want to be a part of that shame.

Here, Sufjan rejects idol worship and the narcissistic impulses of celebrity culture.

I don’t care if everybody else is into it.

I don’t care if it’s a popular refrain.

I don’t want to be a puppet in a theatre.

I don’t want to play your video game.

He affirms the importance of honouring your values and not conforming simply because it’s the path of least resistance. Likening fame and online attention to a video game is very apt. Neither are real. They’re both about chasing dopamine hits and ephemeral highs.

I don’t want to be your Julius Caesar.

I don’t want it to go down that way.

Et tu, Twitter? Through this comparison, Sufjan is saying he doesn’t wish to be raised to a position of power or fame only to be back-stabbed by those closest to him (fickle music fans, in this context).

But in a way you gotta follow the procedure.

So go ahead and play your video game.

With this line, Sufjan is acknowledging that ‘playing the game’ is a reality he must abide to make a living as a professional musician. For Sufjan, ‘following the procedure’ means participating in the very promotional circus that he detests. The system is what it is, after all. However, he has at least resolved to engage with it in a healthy and professional manner.

Glass Animals – Dreamland

I’ve been fixated on this song all year. It’s the opening and title track for Glass Animals’ third full release. Interestingly, it serves as the album’s ‘table of contents’, with each line containing details that are expanded upon in later songs. I love this idea. However, the song also works on its own, outside of the context of the album.

‘Dreamland’ is all about reflection. Its themes feel universal, despite the lyrics being hyper specific to Dave Bayley’s own experiences. Instead of a linear narrative, Bayley uses kaleidoscopic imagery to convey memories swirling about in a person’s head.

Pulling down backstreets, deep in your head.

Slipping through dreamland, like a tourist.

An invitation to daydream. A call to introspection. I love this image: memories rendered as a bustling cityscape.

That first friend you had.

That worst thing you said.

That perfect moment.

That last tear you shed.

All you’ve done in bed.

All around your head.

Snapshots fly from a robust and full life, a life well-lived.

You’ve had too much of the digital love.

Per Dave Bayley, this line is about the internet and its effects on our relationships. It’s great for discovering things and making connections, but it also has the capacity to destroy a person’s mental health.

Make it feel like a movie you saw in your youth.

The song’s mission statement: chasing nostalgia, coveting a feeling from a formative time. I love how the seminal songs and movies from our youth serve as timestamps for our lives.

Make it feel like that song that just unopened you.

Permit me to be cheesy a moment. As a music lover, I deeply understand this feeling. Connecting with a song absolutely feels like being ‘unopened’. It’s miraculous how sound from a speaker can influence mood and perspective, and trigger an emotional response. The way Bayley distils this feeling into a single unassuming verb (‘unopened’) is impressive. The economy of his writing inspires me.

Without question, the darkest and most devastating pair of lines – the ones which, upon first listen, made my ears prick and shot a shiver through me – are these:

You were ten years old, holding hands in the classroom.

He had a gun on the first day of high school.

There’s a lot to extrapolate from such a charged pair of lines. They describe possibly the most pronounced and profound loss of innocence imaginable. Somehow, life contorted a childhood friend into a would-be school shooter. Unfathomably heavy.

You see Kodachrome.

You see pink and gold.

This person is retrospectively minded. They experience life through the lens of memory, with every sight processed and compartmentalised accordingly. Seeing in ‘pink and gold’ refers to looking back with rose-coloured glasses. Can a person this retrospective ever truly live in the moment?

You see Mulholland glow.

You see in airplane mode.

Here, Dave name-checks a formative movie reference (Lynch’s Mulholland Drive). By seeing in ‘Airplane Mode’, he refers to living without ‘distraction, filters and biases’. It’s another clever turn of phrase, as connected devices offer infinite ways to drive a person to distraction. Meanwhile, a device in ‘Airplane Mode’ has limited applications, permitting a purer, more singular focus.

You float in the pool where the soundtrack is canned.

You go ask your questions, like ‘What makes a man?’

Oh, it’s 2020, so it’s time to change that.

So you go make an album and call it Dreamland.

As the song draws to a close, Dave reflects on what masculinity means to him in today’s ever-changing cultural landscape. In the final line, he cheekily resolves to explore such questions in the creation of this very album.

HAIM – I Know Alone

I was lukewarm on HAIM’s second album, Something to Tell You, which skewed a bit Sheryl Crow-lite for my tastes. I missed the noisy guitars and funk-inspired grooves of Days Are Gone, which remains one of my favourite debut albums ever. Women in Music Pt. III is an excellent return to form and contains some of the Haim sisters’ strongest songwriting to date.

‘I Know Alone’ is my personal standout. The electronic elements set it apart from most of their discography. This track feels fresh and experimental – very Kid A-esque. It was produced by former Vampire Weekend member, Rostam (that band’s secret weapon). Danielle’s processed vocals sound synthetic and emotionally distant, yet the lyrics are raw, achingly personal.

This song details a crippling bout of depression. (I need to stop gravitating towards songs like this.)

Been a couple days since I’ve been out.

Calling all my friends, but they won’t pick up.

Found another room in a different place.

Sleeping through the day but I dream the same.

I don’t wanna give too much.

I don’t wanna feel at all.

Nights turn into days

that turn to grey.

Keep turning over.

Some things never grow.

I know alone,

like no one else does.

Days get slow, like counting cell towers on the road.

I know alone and I don’t wanna talk about it.

Friday hits and I feel like I’m wasting everybody’s time.

Now Sunday comes and they expect me to shine.

Pluralone – The Night Won’t Scare Me

Pluralone is the solo project of former Red Hot Chili Peppers guitarist, Josh Klinghoffer. From what I’ve gleaned from interviews, Klinghoffer’s contributions and relentless work ethic weren’t particularly valued by the band. Despite ten years of touring and three releases, he was still, in reality, a glorified touring member, the lowest rung on the totem.

Maybe his dismissal from the band was all for the best, though, as Pluralone is a far better vehicle for Klinghoffer and a terrific showcase of his talents. ‘The Night Won’t Scare Me’ is a powerful piece of piano rock and a hopeful affirmation in the face of uncertainty. Very 2020.

The 1975 – I Think There’s Something You Should Know

A mellow house track about imposter syndrome. For me, this song effectively soundtracked our devastating winter lockdown. A bleak time deserves a bleak anthem.

I think there’s something you should know.

I don’t feel like myself, I’m not gonna lie.

I feel so seen and I can’t dream.

Sleeping terrifies me. Otherwise, I’m fine, see-

-saw back and forth, back on the door, back on the floor.

Please ignore me. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.

Feeling like someone, like somebody else, who don’t feel themself.

I really admire the vulnerability here. Matty Healy lays everything bare, effectively turning himself inside out and allowing the listener to probe his deepest insecurities. I relate to a lot of it. I don’t really like myself a lot of the time and feel similarly out of step with the modern world.

The whole song is brilliant but two particular lines stand out to me:

Paying for their wealth with their mental health.

This is the burden of the professional artist. As a songwriter, Matty’s literal livelihood involves working through painful personal issues and exploring the human condition. As a touring musician, he lives in a constant state of flux. I imagine feeling permanently displaced and unmoored can’t be good for one’s mental health and yet it’s literally how he makes his money. What a conundrum.

I’d like to meet myself and swap clothes.

What a great image. Here, Healy’s feelings of dissociation have figuratively dislocated him from his ‘real’ self. He’s become a separate entity entirely. No doubt the celebrity machine contributes greatly to this sense of depersonalisation. In my reading, he wants to find ‘himself’, the happy version, and swap clothes, swap places, swap realities with them.

The 1975 – Frail State of Mind

An agoraphobic’s anthem and another song with an unexpected resonance in 2020:

Go outside?

Seems unlikely.

This song is about depression and withdrawing from friends to spare them the burden.

I’m sorry that I missed your call.

I watched it ring.

“Don’t waste their time.”

I’ve always got a frail state of mind.

“Oh, boy, don’t cry.”

I’m sorry but I always get this way sometimes.

Oh, I’ll just leave.

I’ll save you time.

I’m sorry ’bout my frail state of mind.

Oh, what’s the vibe?

I wouldn’t know.

I’m normally in bed at this time.

You guys, go do your thing

and I’ll just leave at nine.

Don’t wanna bore you with my frail state of mind.

My Morning Jacket – Wasted

My Morning Jacket return after a painfully long hiatus. Well, kind of. Actually, these songs are leftovers from 2016’s The Waterfall sessions. Must have been a fruitful period for the band because these songs are just as potent as their predecessors.

I thought about highlighting the lead single, ‘Spinning My Wheels’, a reflective track about escaping a spell of complacency. In the end, though, it was impossible to overlook the mesmerising raucous rocker, ‘Wasted’. This loud, meandering masterpiece captures the intense energy of their live shows.

Goodnight Goodbye – Dad Dancing

A playful pop song about shaking off insecurities and inhibitions with a few drinks and having a boogie. Pretty much the logic I’m operating on whenever I go out. Some lyrical highlights:

Last night when I spilt my pint.

I kinda gave up, ooh, I kind gave up.

So I won’t go up to the bar.

It’s fine. I’ll take a vodka and lime.

My mind is made up, ooh, my mind is made up.

So I’ll stumble down to the bar.

Loving you is all I ever wanna do.

Some people looking as I steal the room.

I don’t care. We’re just having fun.

I’d be up for the chase, but I can’t stop dancing now.

Dad dancing, ohh, you’re dad dancing.

I’m taking my chances. I’m really good at dancing now.

Continue reading →

Games I Finished in 2019 – Part One

Posted on April 20, 2020 by toconnell88

It’s time for my annual-until-I-get-sick-of-doing-it retrospective on the games I completed in the previous year. This time it’s in two parts because I like to waffle.

January

Far Cry 3

Ah, the outside world. From the Before Times.

I’ve been curious about Far Cry 3 since playing through the fourth entry years ago on my brother’s recommendation. The tropical setting looked like a great place to spend 30 hours and I’d heard positive things about the charismatic villain, Vaas.

Far Cry 3 was a genuinely great time. The gameplay was super engaging, even coming at it some seven years after release. It’s basically a big, dumb action movie set in an inviting locale with hilarious physics and a fun array of vehicles and weapons to play with.

To my surprise, the story really grabbed me. In the beginning, protagonist Jason Brody is an entitled frat boy looking to partake in some consequence-free debauchery with his douchey friends (no doubt a commentary on how westerners treat South-East Asia like their personal playground). However, he soon discovers this lawless island has been seized by pirates and a drug-peddling militia. The pirate leader, Vaas, kidnaps his friends with the intent to extort ransom money. Jason narrowly escapes, aided by suspicious natives, and begins the insurmountable task of rescuing his friends.

Initially, Jason is driven to kill out of necessity, as it’s the only way for him to achieve his goal. However, he comes to realises he is naturally gifted at it and, over time, even develops a taste for it. When the gang eventually reunites, Jason’s friends are horrified by his disturbing new behaviour and attitude.

It’s not an especially deep story, but I loved Jason’s gradual descent into savagery. It’s a modern-day Heart of Darkness and I appreciated that the violence had thematic context. Like Vaas before him, Jason slowly surrenders his soul to the island. His transformation from selfish fratboy to ruthless killer suggests we all have an innate savagery waiting to be drawn out by the right circumstances. Pretty chilling stuff.

Star Wars Battlefront II

“Rad Leader standing by.”

Even after all the controversy I was determined to go into this blind and give it a fair shake. I genuinely think EA and Activision are a cancer on the industry with their cookie-cutter game design and egregious monetisation tactics. Star Wars Battlefront II looked to exemplify these flaws with early reports suggesting it would take a whopping 40 hours of grinding to unlock iconic Star Wars characters like Darth Vader. The idea here was to incentivise players to circumvent the grind (which the developers themselves had created) by encouraging them to buy in-game credits with real-world currency. Gross!

However, following an unprecedented internet shitstorm, ‘Good Guy’ EA rolled back this absurd monetisation model to ensure no facet of the game was ‘Pay to Win’. Two years later, the game has seen a lot of dev support and has virtually turned its abysmal reputation around.

So what did I make of it? Well, it’s beautiful to look at and authentically captures the spirit of Star Wars. Seriously, the production values are super-duper impressive and would’ve made my head explode if I’d played this as a kid. Instead of building off the previous generation of Star Wars Battlefront games, this one is basically a casualified sci-fi reskin of DICE’s other large-scale shooter property, Battlefield. Not that there’s anything necessarily wrong with that.

The biggest and most-touted new addition here was the single-player campaign. This tells the supposedly canon story of a group of Empire remnants trying to rebuild following their defeat at the end of Return of the Jedi. You play as hardened Imperial commander Iden Versio and some forgettable supporting characters. Playing as the villains was an interesting twist. I enjoyed learning about Imperial culture and was particularly interested to find there is honour in their ranks. Most Imperial troops believe they are doing something noble by stamping out rebels. They genuinely believe the Empire’s reign stabilises the galaxy and brings prosperity (a similar idea was presented in The Mandalorian). It was refreshing to see they weren’t all blind megalomaniacs.

Unfortunately, our protagonists quickly learn the error of their ways when the militant new Imperial leader starts destroying loyal systems to strike fear and reinforce the Empire’s might. Iden and co. have their predictable “Wait! We were the bad guys all along!” moment of realisation and the story devolves into the usual heroism fluff. I would have preferred if the game had shown the rise of the First Order (y’know, since Episode VII couldn’t be bothered doing that). As it is, this story is fairly inconsequential.

Gameplay wise, this campaign is fucking dull as dishwater. It’s just a string of pretty-but-lifeless gallery shootouts against thoroughly brain-dead enemies. There are a few scripted set pieces that exist solely to teach you about characters’ abilities. The whole campaign is an overlong tutorial. It’s the embodiment of beige with some nice window-dressing.

The multiplayer suite is a lot better. There’s small-scale deathmatches, large-scale wars with dynamic objectives, space battles and the fan servicey Heroes vs Villains mode, where you can mess around as your favourite Star Wars badass. I find all this moderately entertaining, if a bit simple. I’d rather play Halo, which has better maps, a much more interesting weapon sandbox and a more satisfying gameplay loop, but Battlefront 2 is fun if you want to switch off most of your faculties. The gunplay feels incredibly imprecise and never really gelled for me. Same with the movement and general physics. With such large-scale battles it sometimes feels like your individual contributions don’t matter, but at least this reduces the pressure to perform well (that’s what she said!).

My least favourite thing about this game is the Star Card system. Clearly, this system was engineered to encourage real-world spending until the devs hastily rejigged it. Every character you play as, from infantry to Jedis, must be levelled up to unlock buffs and abilities. The grind to do this is painstakingly slow, but you gotta do it if you expect to get anywhere in matches. In the beginning, you’re frail and have few tactical options. This means a player who’s played the game longer and unlocked better Star Cards will curb stomp newer players, even if those newer players outplay them in raw combat. There’s just no way to compete when the enemy has double the health and outputs more damage. I hate this system as it effectively creates an artificial skillgap, with new players assuming the role of lambs to the slaughter.

I feel like I’ve already wasted too many words on this game. It generally induces apathy in me. I can’t wait until EA’s exclusivity deal with Disney ends. I can’t think of two worse companies to oversee Star Wars…

Continue reading →

Review: ‘Just Another Week in Suburbia’

Posted on June 25, 2018 by toconnell88

Just Another Week in Suburbia is the debut novel of Melbourne writer Les Zig. In it, Zig dares the reader to sit with one uncomfortable question: can you ever really know someone? The reader is encouraged to examine the enormous leap of faith it takes to be in a trusting relationship – a difficult but worthwhile venture.

Just Another Week in Suburbia spans seven days in the life of Casper Gray. Casper is a suburban everyman with a nice home, a secure job and a wife who challenges and complements him. Like many suburbanites he’s content (if uninspired) and comfortable (if a bit complacent).

One day a chance discovery upheaves Casper, leaving him questioning his marriage. At first, Casper struggles to find the courage to face this discovery, as doing so means dealing with the inevitable fallout. Instead he obsesses over it, and his preoccupations affect everything from his relationships to his professional judgement. Casper’s poor decision-making can be frustrating, but it’s what makes him such a complex and interesting character.

Just Another Week in Suburbia has some undoubtedly harrowing moments. It’s unflinchingly honest, particularly as Casper struggles to escape from his quagmire of insecurities. Throughout, Zig uses Casper’s ordeal to deconstruct the notion of traditional masculinity. He also explores the resentments that can form when two people with individual desires start a life together. But to label this a portrait of marital discord would be reductive; it’s a powerful cautionary tale about the importance of open communication. Zig’s writing demonstrates a great respect – even a reverence – for the union of marriage. Casper and Jane are well-written, believable characters with a flawed but complex relationship.

Outside of the relationship aspect, Zig authentically captures the malaise of suburban life. He also acknowledges the comedy of it: the way neighbours lose their minds scrutinizing property lines or how hauling garbage to the kerb at week’s end feels like a Herculean task.
Memorable side characters add further levity to the story, like Stuart, Casper’s pernickety vice principal; Luke, his affable womanising friend; and a slippery drug dealer nicknamed Jean Jacket. Then there’s Wallace, Casper’s scrappy fox terrier. Wallace’s every mannerism leaps off the page. He is a charming addition to this story.

Zig’s crisp prose and strong characterisation ensures the story breezes along at an enjoyable pace. The darker moments are perfectly balanced with wry humour and poignant observations about life. In one memorable moment, Casper posits that long-term relationships are like reading the same book over and over again. A dour assessment – until Casper’s co-worker points out that re-reading brings a new and deeper appreciation. “Some books you hold dear to you your whole life.”

And so it is with Just Another Week in Suburbia, a relationship story with real heart and emotional depth. My appreciation for it grows the more I meditate on its themes. I look forward to revisiting it one day. I’ve no doubt I’ll discover even more things to appreciate about its narrative.

Some Thoughts on David Lynch’s ‘Catching the Big Fish’

Posted on December 2, 2014 by toconnell88

So, I just finished this on the train and felt compelled to put down my thoughts while they’re still fresh (also I don’t blog enough).

Catching the Big Fish: Meditation, Consciousness, and Creativity

What I Expected From This Book:

A reasonably detailed dissection of Lynch’s creative practices.
A practical guide to meditation.
An entertaining/illuminating reflection on Lynch’s work.
Specificity.

What This Book Delivered:

Shallow, cutesy proclamations about the importance of meditation.
A lack of direction. These anecdotes are so haphazard in their delivery. It’s like Lynch waffled into a tape recorder (Agent Cooper style) for an hour and thought the results worth publishing.
Repetition.
Repetition.
An irritating sing-song prose style laden with clipped sentences.
Vagueness. Lynch seems to go out of his way to avoid offering any true insight.

Example of Lynch’s Disagreeable Brand of Pop Psychology:

“How does meditation get rid of negativity? Picture it this way: You are the Empire State Building. You’ve got hundreds of rooms. And in those rooms, there’s a lot of junk. And you put all that junk there. Now you take this elevator, which is going to be the dive within. And you go down below the building; you go to the Unified Field beneath the building – pure consciousness. And it’s like electric gold. You experience that. And that electric gold activates these little cleaning robots. They start going, and they start cleaning the rooms. They put in gold where the dirt and junk and garbage were. These stresses that were in there like coils of barbed wire can unwind. They evaporate, they come out. You’re cleaning and infusing simultaneously. You’re on the road to a beautiful state of enlightenment.”

Review: ‘Pet Sematary’

Posted on November 21, 2014 by toconnell88

This book, alongside a discouraging handful of other King novels, begins with great promise, drawing the reader in with the kind of three-dimensional characters King does best. Unfortunately, it hits a slump halfway, from which it cannot recover, and meanders its way to a predictable conclusion.

The plot deals with grief, obsession and reincarnation. The Creed family (Doctor Louis, Rachel, and two children Ellie and Gage) move to backwater Ludlow, a small town in – you guessed it – Maine. Ludlow’s a dandy slice of American pie. It’s also the halfway point between two large townships and is frequented by huge trucks on shipping runs … See where this is going?

So, protagonist Louis strikes up a friendship with local old-timer, Jud, and learns about a makeshift cemetery that is situated near the Creed’s new home. Apparently generations of residents have used this ground to bury their beloved pets, and it’s become a sort of eerie community tradition. But this ain’t your grandpappy’s cemetery; the titular Pet Sematary is actually a front for ancient Micmac burial grounds. It’s a spiritual place with deep historic roots – generations of teenagers have fooled around here. Burying your pet here is said to bring about reincarnation, which is handy because, after some whacky hijinks, Louis ends up home alone with the still-fresh corpse of family cat, Church. Ruh-Roh!

So Louis is faced with that classic parental dilemma: tell Ellie (his daughter/Church superfan) the truth, or dabble blindly in the dark arts. The choice is clear; anyone who’s seen the Arnie classic Jingle All the Way knows only deadbeats disappoint their kids.And so Church comes back — albeit a little dopier than before. His movements are sluggish and he permanently smells of the earth, which was admittedly cool. The prospect of a reanimated cat – possibly infused with a sinister Micmac spirit – is great horror fodder, but, in King’s hands, it amounts to nothing. The cover and blurb allude to some terrifying developments; a murderous four-legged zombie that perfectly resembles your beloved Mr Whiskers would make for an excellent monster, but nothing like this eventuates. The whole concept of the Pet Sematary is severely underutilised – unless your secret fear is slow, dim-witted cats that lumber around not hurting anyone.

Nice Churchy!

Pet Sematary has a strong premise and solid opening. It’s great to see King sink into teeth into some serious subject matter and, as usual, he excels at inhabiting his characters. Rachel and Louis are particularly compelling (as luck would have it, Rachel has a debilitating fear of death – guess who’s confronting their fears tonight?), and it’s a pleasure to discover the intricacies of their marriage. Louis is a bog-standard King everyman; however, his profession does distinguish him (slightly) from others of this mould. Doctors are logically minded and less inclined to buy into supernatural mumbo jumbo. I enjoyed Louis’ early scepticism and stoic nature, but grew frustrated with the irrational behaviour he exhibits later on.

Pet Sematary also suffers serious pacing issues. It takes three quarters of the book for all the (obvious) set-pieces to come together (believe me: the signposts are as big as Maine itself). You know the Pet Sematary will cause major complications, yet it goes damn near unmentioned for the first half of the book. Instead, the reader is dragged through family drama subplots that, while mildly interesting, add squat to the narrative.

My biggest issue with Pet Sematary is its conclusion, which unfolds like a slow train wreck. Despite being cautioned by Jud on the dangers of the Pet Sematary, and learning about how a reported case of human burial went horribly awry, logical, level-headed Dr Louis jettisons all common sense and tries it anyway.

A sizeable portion of the novel’s conclusion details Louis’s inner monologue as he climbs up to the haunted burial grounds, his child’s corpse in tow. He openly admits it’s not the answer, that he’s clinging to empty hope. He knows whatever emerges from the ground won’t be his loved one, no matter the resemblance. He knows his actions will cause grief and heartache, and that they will destroy his remaining family’s chance of moving on. He also knows his actions will place everyone in very real danger – yet he goes ahead and does it anyway.

The ensuing bloodshed was senseless, a chore to read, and was all so preventable. King spends so much of the novel (which, it’s worth noting, isn’t short) building rich characters and relationships, only to throw them to the wind in the last seventy pages.

I get the suggestion that grief supersedes rational thinking, and that the Micmac burial ground had some sort of supernatural pull of Louis, but that doesn’t justify this frustrating, limp-wristed ending. Here, King rejoices in kicking his readers in the teeth. The fact that Louis is aware what a dope he is adds insult to injury. God awful – and this is coming from someone who defends and understands Cujo‘s macabre ending.

Read The Shining instead.

Some Thoughts on Bird by Bird and Writing Advice

Posted on August 12, 2014 by toconnell88

Bestseller Bird by Bird is a quasi memoir and instructional craft book for budding writers. Alongside Stephen King’s On Writing, it’s the most lauded and cited book about writing. Anne Lamott trades in honesty and uses clear, tactile examples from her writing life to illustrate her points. There are some wonderfully evocative passages about human nature and the realities of life as a working writer.

I’ll give it this: Bird by Bird has personality, which, I suspect, is why it’s endured the way it has. Lamott has wit and a knack for metaphor. However, I’m in no hurry to investigate her fiction, as my reaction to Bird by Bird was largely negative. Frankly, I found Lamott unbearably smug. Am I alone in this? Did no one else find her faux self-deprecation a chore and her humour grating? (Just on this, her humour: It starts innocently enough, but morphs into this ugly, sarcastic crutch. How did no one else notice this?) Similarly, some of her admissions made me question her professionalism (see: the chapter ‘Jealousy’, which had me shaking my head in astonishment). When this happened, I could no longer respect her as a writing authority, rendering the book a failure.

Unsurprisingly, Bird by Bird took me an eternity to finish. I didn’t particularly enjoy it, though concede its uses. It was required reading for my course. Most of its advice was second nature to me, but it was nice to have it reaffirmed so eloquently.

A quick aside: I’ve always wondered why intermediate-level writers persist with reading craft books. Don’t get me wrong: studying the mechanics of writing is important. It’s just that, lately, I’m finding writing advice rote and tedious – which is maybe why I’ve ceased dispensing it on this blog. There are myriad resources available for those that need it, so my current view is why perpetuate a dialogue when the inevitable consensus will be ‘Don’t break rules unless with stylistic intent’.

Most professional writers discourage the romanticisation of writing, but breaking it down to bare mechanics feels equally reductive. Frankly, I don’t want to understand everything about creative practice. It’s like intellectualising faith, or watching one of those jerky, fun-spoiling, tell-all magicians. Continue reading →

Review: ‘The Girl in the Flammable Skirt’

Posted on June 20, 2014 by toconnell88

This collection, originally published in 1998, was on my to-read list for ages, but my local libraries and bookstores never carried it. Fortunately, with the recent popularisation of The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, Aimee Bender’s older works have gotten the reissue treatment (slash they’ve made it to backwater Australia in the first place). Even with the reissue, though, this was still a difficult find. I had to grab the LARGE PRINT edition from my local library. Ever read a large-print story about a promiscuous librarian during the morning train commute? Didn’t think so. Don’t scoff.

Fortunately, it was worth the trouble. Although The Girl with the Flammable Skirt feels a bit like the work of a writer still developing their voice, its stories were loaded with entertainment value. Bold, eccentric and dripping with originality, Bender’s short fiction contains highly memorable plots with unconventional subject matters. She trades in the sort of quirky surrealist style associated with writers like Francesca Lia Bloc and Miranda July. A strong sexual undercurrent also permeates these works, further accentuating this comparison.

Still, I enjoyed this way more than Miranda July’s No One Belongs Here More Than You. Though they’re aesthetically similar, I find July’s writing gratingly cute and too far removed from reality; Flammable Skirt was, oddly, more grounded in real human emotion, thus I connected better to the stories. (I say oddly because, like contemporary fairytales, Bender’s subject matter is pretty out there: an incognito imp, of high school age, makes an unwitting sexual advance while stroking the hair of an incognito teenage mermaid; a woman’s boyfriend, disillusioned with the state of the world, experiences – perhaps initiates – reverse evolution, eventually becoming a salamander; two young women experience the hardships of adolescence – with added elemental burdens: one has an ice hand, one fire.)

Reading these, I was delightfully forced from my comfort zone (realist literary fiction). The stories were often trés silly, but Bender sells them, establishing the parameters quickly and upholding them, honouring them. Universality grounds even the most outlandish story, and so they read like strange fables, cautionary tales. I’m intellectualising what doesn’t need to be: at their core, I must emphasise, these stories are just great fun.

I had several favourites, including: ‘The Ring’, a story about besotted thieves whose stolen ruby ring permanently dyes everything it contacts; ‘Quiet Please’, a story about a grief-stricken librarian who decides to have sex with every man who enters her library; ‘Dreaming in Polish’, a story about a prophetic old couple who dream visions of the future in unison; and ‘What You Left in the Ditch’, a story about a military wife who finds it hard to love her wounded husband after he returns from war without lips.

A couple didn’t quite hit home (the sprawling, overambitious ‘Marzipan’ and the ineffectual ‘Legacy’), but theses don’t tarnish what was an otherwise compelling debut. I’ve no doubt I’ll be reading more of Aimee Bender’s work in the future.

Review: ‘Sweet Tooth’

Posted on May 20, 2014 by toconnell88

Contrary to the way it’s been marketed, Sweet Tooth is not an espionage novel. Not really. Among other things, it’s a love story, coming of age tale and meditation on literature. By fictionalising elements of McEwan’s youth, it also works as a strange composite of fiction and reality. Long-time McEwan fans will enjoy the various nods to his past work. There are myriad references, and an interesting look at the relationship artists have with their work.

Set in the afterglow of the Cold War, Sweet Tooth details Serena Frome’s (rhymes with ‘plume’) unlikely ascent from plucky academic to MI5 agent. So far, so James Bond, but Serena’s mission is not to take down the irrepressible Jaws; she is sent, as MI5’s resident bibliophile, to covertly cajole promising young writer, Tom Haley. Under the guise of representing a national literary foundation, Serena commissions Tom in the hopes that she can get him to unwittingly pen novelistic propaganda. It’s the 70s, see, and an international war of ideas rages. Britain is facing industrial unrest, and MI5 are desperate to influence the national culture. One of their approaches is to use well-received fiction writers to lure left-of-centre European intellectuals away from the Marxist perspective. Continue reading →

Doctor Sleep Induces Namesake: An Extended Diatribe on First-Ever King Sequel

Posted on May 7, 2014 by toconnell88

In the Author Notes of Doctor Sleep, the extremely belated sequel to The Shining, Stephen King writes diplomatically about nostalgia, fan expectation and the legacy of his wildly successful third novel, The Shining (and its iconic Kubrick-helmed adaptation). King knew publishing Doctor Sleep would be a largely thankless job. The Shining holds a special place in many hearts. It’s iconic, a certified classic. Building on the momentum of his preceding novels, it cemented King’s reputation as a master of the genre and was revered by generations of readers.

Judging by his notes, King is acutely aware of what was at stake with this endeavour. He even expresses reservations. Appeasing everyone was inevitably impossible. That’s the case for any book, but it’s especially true for Doctor Sleep, a novel with so much baggage it’d go bankrupt with extra airport charges. Yet King rose to the challenge, breaking his unwritten rule about follow-ups and putting himself in an unenviable position. Why? Apparently it’s because he’s always wondered what became of little Danny Torrance. Hard to fault someone who approaches projects so sincerely.

Despite my forthcoming criticisms, I can say with conviction that I don’t doubt that King had pure intentions with Doctor Sleep. The Shining has a potent universe, so it’s not like there wasn’t room for additional stories. This is no cheap cash-in and King emerges with his integrity intact. That said, Doctor Sleep is weak, half-baked, a disappointing composite of ideas. It shows King isn’t creatively bankrupt – this novel is enjoyable if not particularly nourishing, like a Big Mac – but its screams for an intervening editor are deafening.

As a late-career Stephen King book it’s serviceable, I suppose, but as a sequel to one of the most defining horror novels of all time? Piss poor. There are some cool ideas at play here but, despite King’s aforementioned admission, I don’t believe the necessary care and attention went into this. I can say with surety that this is not King firing on all cylinders. This feels like just another of the four-a-year novels he routinely churns out. Nothing more or less. The Shining, and its fans, deserve better.

* * *

Doctor Sleep opens with remaining Torrances, Danny and Wendy, grappling with everything that occurred at the Overlook Hotel. Danny, now a couple of years older, is still burdened with the ability to shine. Wendy, on the other hand, has all but shut down after the breakdown and subsequent death of her husband, Jack Torrance (immortalised in a manic Jack Nicholson performance). The telepathic chef Dick Hallorann cameos early on to teach Danny his ‘mental lockbox’ trick, which is used to trap negative spirits.

Continue reading →

Guest Speaker Recap: Sam Cooney, Editor of The Lifted Brow

Posted on April 16, 2014 by toconnell88

Sam Cooney was my most anticipated guest speaker this semester – partly because I’ve long enjoyed his ‘sweet petite tweets’ and partly because he’s been currently killing it (from my perspective) as the editor and publisher of one of the country’s most respected literary magazines, The Lifted Brow. I don’t want to blow too much smoke up his dress (unless he’s into that), but suffice it to say his CV, entrepreneurial skills and general work ethic impressed me. For someone just a couple of years my senior, he’s accomplished a hell of a lot. He also wears many professional hats. I wouldn’t be surprised if his business cards have stapled-on amendments that enfold two or three times.

Sam began his presentation by telling us about his unconventional career path. Apparently, with the advent of the internet, unconventional is the new conventional (like, hadn’t you heard?). Old career models are becoming obsolete; these days, a professional writer’s career path is invariably defined by its random discursions. It’s unsettling to think that the degree I’m working towards could count for everything or nothing, but that’s the nature of the gig. Unlike more traditional careers, the trajectory of a writer’s path is seldom linear.

Sam’s was no exception. His journey began with a false start university enrolment where he worked towards a business degree. He considered this avenue partly because he’d yet to realise his true calling, but also because his all-boys private school had conditioned him to aspire to traditional work. Fortunately, Sam spent his leisure time indulging hidden literary aspirations and it wasn’t long before he realised writing was what he really wanted to do with his life. Though he didn’t say as much, I suspect Sam’s business classes contributed to his entrepreneurial edge. If this is true, it shows that no life experience is ever truly wasted; writers will always find ways to draw from their pasts. It saddens me, though, that there are high schools out there actively discouraging students from pursuing creative or unconventional career paths. But it’s not particularly surprising, given society’s low opinion of the humanities. Continue reading →

Review: ‘Wilco: Learning How to Die’

Posted on April 10, 2014 by toconnell88

Wilco: Learning How to Die chronicles the history of experimental rock band Wilco. Written by Chicago Tribune music critic Greg Kot, the book opens with bandleader Jeff Tweedy’s small-town beginnings and goes on to cover Uncle Tupelo’s career and the birth of Wilco. There is very little information online about Tweedy’s childhood, so Learning How to Die’s opening sections were invaluable. (For me, it was like reading like a superhero origin story.)

Pivotal Tweedy moments, like his introduction to Jay Farrar and their subsequent formation of Uncle Tupelo, are detailed. I’ve never really gotten into Uncle Tupelo, but their legacy is undeniable, and learning about their formative years widened my appreciation. Tweedy and Farrar’s songwriting process was particularly interesting. Their professional relationship was a minefield of warped expectations and miscommunications, and it grew increasingly volatile as the boys’ egos developed and the band’s star rose. Quotes from those closest to them are also included. These offer a broader picture and made an oft sensationalised rivalry richer and more nuanced.

The Wilco narrative here unfolds chronologically, with each half culminating in a major conflict: Tweedy versus Farrar, and Tweedy versus Jay Bennett. Since these incidents are well-documented, even casual Wilco fans will anticipate them, giving the book a great quasi sense of tension. Continue reading →

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