The Order 1886

I think it was Ghandi or George Washington that once said it's important to build your game around fun mechanics first before applying your aesthetic touches and finishes. Not sure how sourced that quote is, but I read it on the internet once and I'm just gullible enough to believe anything I read online.  

Regardless, the statement does hold truth to it since pretty things do not a good game make, and if that were the case then  Beyond Two Souls wouldn't have been such a steaming dollop of shit. But hey, at least it was a pretty steaming dollop of shit. 

So, here's The Order 1886 and it's a game I've looked forward to since I saw gameplay trailers so far back that I can't even recall when. Picked it up over the weekend and sunk over 10 hours into it, taking my time and trying to get to grips with this Steampunk world I'm pitted in to. 

I was planning on posting my impressions of the game once I completed it, but I think these 10+ hours I've put into it have been plenty enough to give me a clear indication of what I'm in store for, and it's not impressive. It's actually quite confusing. 

Not the game itself which is a pretty straightforward 3rd person cover shooter, but the confusing part comes in when you try to wrap your mind around the thought processes behind the development of this game. It's beautifully crafted in intricate detail. The character and model designs are spectacular. Architecture and lighting that was gorgeous enough for me to stop what I was doing and screenshot that shit. It's a really pretty game, no doubt. 

But looking beyond that...beyond all the plastic surgery, makeup and designer clothing is something very average. Not only average, but I would go far as to say it's subpar in today's cover shooter market, and that's what confuses me. You, the developer, spend all this effort meticulously crafting an admittedly gorgeous world and you build that upon the framework of these crappy mechanics that lack any real fun or engagement. 

And hell, maybe Ready at Dawn were keeping with the theme of it being in the past, because the game oozes shitty old mechanics that were okay even by 2003 standards. Shitty half-crouch cover systems straight out of Gears of War, a Bullet Time system much like the one used in Shadow of Mordor and a weapon system that looks like a cut and paste from the Uncharted series. 

Granted, the weapons are pretty innovative, but c'mon, you can't base your whole game on the premise of pretty graphics and cool weapons any more. This isn't 1999, bra. It's like you're running an autoshop, spend all your budget buying the Lamborghini body and decide "Fuck it boys, stick a Golf engine in there." and call it a day. 

  

Stoner Theory Wednesday: The Voice of Word.

Purpose.

It's something that we Humans have been trying to attribute to our species since we gained critical thought. This is question bred of fear and lack of understanding. Fear of our very existence being nothing more than a statistical probability and we're all fundamentally just a collection of gases that cooled long enough to gain consciousness. 

Something about this frightens a lot of people and rightfully so. Our very society functions on the concept of personal purpose. You, the individual, are important enough to have a purpose on this planet. To contribute, experience, breed and ultimately do enough that leaves some sort of impression on the planet or society when we die. It's an oversimplification, but that's pretty much the tl;dr of our existence on this planet and I can fully understand why the concept of having no guiding purpose in the grand scale of the universe would scare a lot of people. 

That's a theory that I subscribed to my whole life; we're all just a happy accident and we shouldn't be vain or egotistical enough to think that we deserve a purpose. Just existing should be rewarding enough. We drew the right numbers in the cosmic lottery and here we are. 

Lately, though, my views have changed and it happened when I was browsing the internet, down a rabbit hole on Wikipedia, reading about Sumerian Tablets. More specifically, the words on the tablet.

No, this is not some kind of "I found the answer to life on a ten thousand year old tablet" kind of post, because that's absurd. The tablet I read about held a trivial message about scholars and their teachers, so it did not have some cryptic life-changing revelation. It was the concept of written word through time that opened my eyes and filled me with wonder.

Since man discovered written word, it's been our goal to document and preserve it over time. From the most ancient of civilizations to now, the recollection of history, function and religion has held a great importance to us as a species. We try to preserve our words in time as best we can. Immortalize them so they can immortalize us in the process. 

We've become incredibly efficient at it as well. Ancient Egyptians used to engrave word straight into stone, preserving thoughts that range from religion to mathematics. This is at a time when papyrus was commonly used in writing, but did not have the preservation qualities of stone or marble. Here we are in 2015 with the digitization of word and thought, making it far more accessible and easily preserved. 

It's our collective consciousness - this is our purpose. Like a voice that you cannot hear, but has been spoken since Humans could write and is continually speaking as long as we keep contributing to it and preserving it. It transcends time more than our physical selves ever could, and my voice today may be heard in 2000 years time as the 4000 year old voice of the Sumerian scholar was heard by me now. 

The advent of technology and digitization has evolved the voice. It's given it the opportunity to leave us and expand outwards into space. Right now we can take all of recorded history, all of our discoveries and ideas and send them into the unknown, so that in the event should something happen to us or our planet, our existence from when we learned to write, right until the moment we perished would have been saved. A backup of our consciousness, if you will, and I think that's pretty fucking cool.

Why are we here? I can't answer the certainly, but I made a connection that resonated well enough with me to make this post. We're here to learn and experience so we can record what we've learned, transcend ourselves as individuals and immortalize our words as a collective. Just like we've lost ancient civilizations to time, so will we be lost to time, but our words and thoughts may live on forever. 

I think that's purpose enough for me to feel validated. 

Warcraft's Changed, Man.

I've played World of Warcraft since vanilla. Contrary to the stereotypes, I have a life, friends and a wonderful woman in my life that's not waifu pillow. It's been quite the journey in this world and the digital experiences I've gained are some of the most wonderful moments I've had in gaming.

That said, I was a bit late to the party this expansion and picked up Warlords of Draenor quite some while after it was released. It took me 4 days of casual playing to get to level 100, geared up and raid-ready. I completed the first raid available (Highmaul) and got some neat gear out of it. I upgraded my Garrison as far as I could and even went as far as starting to collect treasures hidden around the game world. 

I'm not entirely sure if I've burned through the expansion this quick due to the design, or my leveling tactics. However, one thing that is for sure is that the game is a heck of a lot easier than it's ever been and I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that yet. 

All classes have had their spells redesigned and removed in order to have less buttons to push in battle. Questing, much like in Mists of Pandaria has been streamlined to the point of being linear and seem to funnel the player exactly where they are meant to go. Quests even have a chance to reward epic gear while leveling, to get you geared that much faster. Where the fuck is crowd control? I have not seen a single crowd-control spell yet and every dungeon consists of running through and bashing everything with the biggest stick you can find. 

The biggest notable difference is the sense of community. There just...isn't anymore. You join a guild, not because you want to network, but because it's been incentivized and makes you feel you must in order to reap the benefits. Heck, you jump in a dungeon with random people and nobody utters a word until someone fucks up or they need to take a break. Warcraft is starting to feel like a single-player game again.

Maybe I'm seeing it through rose-tinted glasses, but I remember when my server was a bustling place filled with all sorts of interesting and wonderful characters. There were prestigious guilds with notable players that you'd inspect in town and longed for their gear. You knew players because they had reputations and accomplishments. Guilds had rivalries and they were common knowledge to the rest of the server, especially when some sort of "We're the best" debacle came about. We'd host huge raids on the enemy faction for fun, since back then there were no rewards from it. There was a great sense of camaraderie and that seems to have all but died in the Warcraft of today.

The absence of community is attributed to two things: cross server play and looking for group functions. Cross server play removed the border restrictions of playing within your own server's playerbase and you'll often see players from other servers questing in the same zone as you. I get Blizzard's reasoning for this - it's not fun to play on a low population server and hardly ever see players in the game world. However, one of the consequences is that it limits your ability to make friends on your own server while questing. Long gone are the days of grouping up with randoms while questing and getting to know each other to become friends that you can actively play with often.

Looking for group is a similar double-edged sword. On the one hand, you don't have to spend hours forming a group, travelling to the dungeon and praying to the The Light that nobody leaves and you're able to complete it. On the other hand, you're not getting to know anybody that you group up with in a dungeon. Very seldom do you get paired with someone from your server, and even in that rare occurrence, chances are that nobody will really chat enough to get acquainted. You go through the motions, get your loot and be on your way, oftentimes with not so much as saying hello or goodbye.

It's not just the social aspects which have changed in nature, but also gear acquisition. Epics in vanilla WoW were exactly as the name implies - epic. There was something about inspecting someone in town and seeing them draped from head to toe in purples that made you awe in astonishment. It meant that the player was a successful raider, that they put the time and effort into getting 40 people together and tackling some rather formidable monsters to earn their rewards. Epic gear was not something that you got from a random quest reward, as it is today. You worked hard for your epic gear and got the due recognition because of it.

One change that I have to give Blizzard credit for is the questing system. From having hundreds of unrelated quests littered around a zone with no sense of direction, to the current streamlined system is a welcomed change. The story delivery since Wrath of the Lich King has greatly improved, with animated cutscenes and integrated scenarios, the way the story unravels to the player is in a better state than it's ever been. Beautifully scripted stories and animations brings you closer to the story and characters than ever before and I'm glad that Blizzard took this approach and hope to see more of it in future expansions.

I don't think that WoW will ever return to its social roots. There's too much information out there with sites like Wowhead and MMOChampion giving us insight into new content before it even releases, so it's not like we have to interact to know what is where and how things work. There's no need to spend an hour in trade chat looking for a group any more because doing all the stuff that took time is literally one click away now. Everything is built around you, the player, and trying to accommodate you into making bite-sized chunks of play feel rewarding and fulfilling at the detriment of the one thing that made WoW what it is today - a community.

Warcraft History: The Beginning

(Disclaimer: Warcraft lore is deep and branches off into many story arcs. I try to describe it as best I can in a simple fashion, but don't consider myself knowledgeable by any means. If I have any information wrong, please let me know so I can rectify it.)

Like all origin stories, the one of Warcraft is a bit muddled the further back we go. However, bearing a likeness with our very own universe's beginnings, it is unsure what created the Warcraft universe. Some believe it was formed by a single, powerful being and others believe it was formed after a great explosion that sent infinite planets into the abyss known as the Great Dark. Sounds familiar? Damn right skippy it does.

What is known for sure, is that from this chaos emerged the Titans, a race of incredibly powerful beings intent on balancing out the universe. These motherfuckers were like a kid playing Minecraft in sandbox mode with the universe and they went from planet to planet shaping them as they saw fit. They raised oceans and mountains, created the winds and the clouds and even went as far as empowering the primitive life on the planets in order to maintain the planet and ensure that their ideology was fulfilled. The Titans were ruled by a group called The Pantheon, which is Warcraft's equivalent of the United Nations, but for the whole universe.

As it is with all things in life, where there is a Ying, there must be a Yang and the Titans weren't the only beings of power in the universe with motives. The Twisting Nether, an ethereal dimension of magic that connected the worlds held its own powerful beings and they weren't as nice as the Titans. For lack of a better description, The Twisting Nether is Hell, if Hell is a different dimension. A place outside, but connected to the Warcraft universe that was as equally infinite, but much more sinister than the realm of the Titans. This place was inhabited by many beings with the opposite virtues of the Pantheon and only sought to bring out chaos and destruction to the universe, as it was in the Twisting Nether. Sounds like a swell place.

Eventually, the forces of the Twisting Nether began to encroach into the Titan's realm and brought chaos to the developing universe. To combat them, the Pantheon elected one of their most powerful beings, Sargeras to be the first line of defense against the demonic forces of the Nether realm, and he kicked their asses...for a while. Sargeras fought the forces of evil for many millennia before encountering an evil race of sorcerers which used their warlock magic to enslave civilizations and ultimately transform them into demons. These fuckers were the definition of pure evil and thrived on agony, destruction and the disorder of the universe through suffering.

Sargeras, being a God by all definitions made quick work of them before banishing them to the Twisting Nether. However, during the process, something changed in Sargeras. Bearing witness to the unmeasurable evil and maliciousness of the warlocks, he could not grasp how anybody could have such an insatiable lust for suffering and he slipped into a depression which became a turning point in the evolution of the Warcraft balance of good vs. evil.

Not only was Sargeras in a slump of depression and internal self-conflict about the purpose of the universe, but he was also forced to suck it up and go deal with yet another evil race of beings intent of destroying the balance that the Titans sought to bring. This race was called the Nathrezim (or Dreadlords), demons of great intellect and power that brought havoc into the universe by not destroying civilizations themselves, but by corrupting them and forcing them to destroy each other. The Dreadlords are the goddamn Illuminati of the Warcraft universe, playing puppeteer behind the scenes and carrying out their evil agenda vicariously.

Again, Sargeras steps up to the plate and knocks the Dreadlords down a notch, but he has seen too much at this point. His virtues and ideology now corrupted by the inherent evil in the universe has manifested into an ever-gnawing doubt, eating Sargeras from within and loosening his grasp on faith. Sargeras began to believe that due to chaos and evil being so rife in the universe, it was the only constant to uphold, and instead of fighting it, chaos should be embraced and adopted as the virtue of the developing universe.

His fellow Titans tried to convince him otherwise, but Sargeras, already wallowing in a pessimistic pit of depression and disillusion would not hear it. He denounced himself from the Titans and sought to find his own meaning in the universe. The Pantheon reluctantly let Sargeras go and appointed Aggramar, Sargeras' lieutenant and right-hand man as his successor. Should the Pantheon have known what would become of Sargeras, they would have never let him go.

Sargeras traveled the universe to try and carve out his own notch in history. However, an unrelenting-rage was consuming him and the fires of despair and disbelief burned out what little bastion of morality he had left. Maddened by rage and lack of reason, Sargeras began to believe that not only were the Titans wrong in their efforts to balance the universe, but they were also responsible for the failure of creation. Not only did his mentality change, but also his very existence. The fires of rage and hatred burnt so much within him that they manifested themselves on to him. His eyes, hair and beard erupted in flame and his once metallic skin now burst apart by flaming embers of burning hatred. At this point, Sargeras is basically Lucifer.

In order to change the worlds, you need an army and Sargeras realized this. He went forth to the Twisting Nether and broke the Dreadlords and other demonic races free from their captivity, to which they submitted and pledged their eternal loyalty to him. Sargeras now had an army and he needed generals to lead it. As luck would have it, he found an incredibly powerful and magical race called the Eredar from the planet Argus which he deemed suitable for the job.

The Eredar were a race of highly intelligent beings with an affinity for magic. They had a vast civilization of many magical cities and were lead by three leaders called Archimonde, Kil'jaeden and Velen. Sargeras promised them great power and immortality in exchange for their services and fealty. Archimonde and Kil'jaeden agreed with Sargeras' proposal, much to the dismay of Velen, which refused to join due to a vision of demonic evil he had about Sargeras and the army he was forming.

                                        Archimonde                                        Kil'jaeden
                                 

Velen, with the help of the Naaru, a race of beings comprised of energy, left his people and took along with him the remaining group of Eredar that would not side with Sargeras, to form his own faction called The Draenai (The Exiled Ones).

Sargeras, now with two incredibly powerful generals, an army of demons and sentient sympathizers to his cause had everything he needed to set the stage for the beginning of Warcraft universe as we know today. The Burning Legion was born and it would be the catalyst that shapes Azeroth into what it is today.

Things I brought Back From Mozambique.

I've worked in Mozambique on and off since 2006. The longest stint I've pulled in that country was a two and a half year contract where I would go home every two months for 5 days leave. These contracts are literally in the middle of nowhere and three hours from the nearest "Town" to use the word loosely.

There's not much to do in the bush once you've finished work. You go through a lot of movies, games and series, but besides that, there's not much else to do other than taking a walk around. Even walking around is limited, because of the dangerous snakes that inhabit the region and, y'know...the whole thing about landmines being everywhere off the beaten path. 

Having grown up catching snakes, legavaans and all other manner of creatures, I wasn't too deterred by the wildlife and would take regular walks in the afternoons. You get to see the place in a different light when you're out there alone, and I've seen some things that put such a huge contrast on my life and left me with a slightly different outlook. 

You honestly don't know how good you have it until you witness true hardship for yourself. This is a country, ravaged by war and corruption, with very little infrastructure to 60% of the population. The result is a populace of impoverished, uneducated masses with absolutely zero job prospects or any kind of future with room for growth. Yet the small villages you see out here, 3 hours from anywhere, have more sense of community than I have ever seen. 

We laid down 46km of 32" carbon steel piping, going from a manifold that receives gas from well-heads around the region to a CPF. It's not as simple to do with large-bore piping as it is with small-bore, so the trick is to plan ahead. Trenching team is a week ahead of the mechanical crew, digging a huge trench for the piping to snaked into once welded. Snaking is a process where the 6m sections of pipe are welded above ground in 32m lengths (2 x double-ended) and is gradually dragged into the trench by the weight of the pipe welded itself. Think of it as zipping up a giant zipper. Sort of. Okay, not really. 

The pipes (which come in 6m lenghts) had to be brought in ahead of the mechanical (welding) crew, so there would be no delay in welding while waiting for piping. These guys worked alongside the trenching crew, laying down batches of pipes as they dug the trench. These lengths of pipe come with giant end-caps on them to prevent foreign objects from entering the piping and ultimately being welded inside. The end caps are basically giant plastic lids that go on the ends of this piping, sort of like the plastic lid you would find on the lid of an instant coffee can. 

A peculiar thing happened during this process. We noticed that by the time the mechanical crew reached new batches of piping, there would be no end-caps on the pipes any more. Every single cap was missing and we were perplexed as to where they went. 

It was only on a late afternoon walk some time later that I discovered where the end-caps went, and only by coincidence. I would some times take my guitar on a walk and find a nice place to sit, smoke a joint and play guitar without worrying about bothering my neighbors in the congested camp. I sat on a section of pipe and began playing. It must have been about 20mins of playing before I noticed two kids come out of the bush. Like, literally appeared out of the bushes like children of the corn. They came and sat by me while I played and seemed to enjoy the music. After a song or two, the eldest of the boys grabbed my arm and told me to follow him,

We went through the section of the bush where they came from and after some walking, ended up by their homestead, which consisted of 4 or 5 huts in a circular "kraal" fashion. They had a few goats and chickens, but what drew my eyes the most was the plate full of fish that was left out in the sun to dry. Only, it wasn't a dish, but one of our end-caps. The kids rushed excitedly into the huts and called their siblings and parents and I sat there for about an hour playing guitar for the family. They gave me a type of  local beer made from baobab that was extremely bitter and chunky and offered me what little they had before I made my way back. 

The following day, I told one of our local laborers about the end-cap and he started laughing at my story. Turns out that the kids go out in the late evenings and collect all the end-caps from the piping and distribute them to every rural "village" in the area. They use the end-caps for a number of different things, from carrying water, to using them as plates and trays. They would put the end-caps over steel drums and make rudimentary drums for music, or children would fashion a wheel-like-toy out of them and have races. It was like a scene from The Gods Must Be Crazy, because something so trivial for us wound up being such a versatile and useful item to them. 

What stuck out to me the most was not their ingenious use of the caps, but rather of their hospitality towards me. By our standards, these people had nothing. Their clothes were worn and tattered and must have been handed down often. Out of the family of 6 or 7, I'd be pressed to find two pairs of shoes between them, if that. Some goats and chickens consisted of their livestock and besides that, they lived off the land. However, they showed no hesitation in offering me what little they had and making me, a total stranger by all definitions, feel welcomed into their home. 

Thinking about it made me realize that it's very unlikely that something like that will happen at home. How often will you invite a stranger to your home? To eat your food and be around your family and young children? We live in a society where it's encouraged to be wary of strangers out of fear. Fear that they may take what or who you love away from you. 

It's sad that we have so much and give so little, yet these people with little-to-nothing can give so much. 

Inexception.

I think I'm a broken person...or even worse, possibly turning into a movie hipster. I realized this the other night when watching Inception for what must be the millionth time. This movie was critically-acclaimed and highly praised by both the public and critics for its cinematography and execution of new concepts...and I have grown to hate it.

This usually happens to me when I watch something after the hype-train has come and gone at the station. I never caught Inception when it was doing its cinema run, and only managed to view it about a month after it came out on DVD. By that point, message boards everywhere were already on 100% circlejerk mode over the movie and the internet was rife with memes and references that I didn't understand. 

That said, I went into the movie with a pocket-full of expectations based on what others were saying. Posts describing  the movie as being "So deep" and "Really game-changing" set the bar pretty high for me and my initial viewing of the film left me with a gaping hole in my heart that was supposed to be filled with intrigue and wonder, but instead remained a disappointing abyss of dashed-hopes. 

However, it's one of those movies best enjoyed on the second or third viewing and I watched it a few times more some time later in the hopes of seeing what others did in the film. I found that in order to enjoy the movie, I had to detract myself from any "deep meaning" premise and see it as a normal heist movie instead, which it does an okay job of being.

You see, the movie is about as deep as a copy of Playboy and anybody that tries to convince you otherwise is just basking in their own pretentious glory of understanding the basic concept that is constantly being explained to you in the movie via hand-holding narrative. Leaving a cliffhanger ending does not a "deep" movie make, and that's exactly what Inception did. "Did the top stop spinning? Is he still in the dream? The top was not even his totem, it was his wife's!" I can't believe that I got so much shit from people saying that I read too far into Prometheus, when Inception is perfectly acceptable with its ambiguity and lack of closure. 

The characters themselves have very little growth in the film as well, other than Cobb. His internal struggle of guilt and mourning is the only character development that you see in the movie and even that was loosely done before in What Dreams May Come. Strip all the heist-related content from the movie and you're left with an average-at-best love story that wouldn't even get the light of day in normal circumstances. 

I realized that what seems to have captured the audience was not the content, but the delivery. Its presentation and score was so on point, that you can't help feel drawn into the film, regardless of the content. The visual effects and character representation were what I can only describe as elegant. It was so elegantly presented that it formed a connection in the viewer of quality, like a penguin with a tuxedo on. It was pure cinematic inception, to throw the pun around.

Perhaps I'm missing something and I'm wrong. I'm not any kind of authority on films and cinema, so obviously take my words with a pinch of salt. However, from my experience, it's one of those movies that just deteriorates my expectations of it with every subsequent viewing. I respect the film and Nolan for it, because in terms of cinematography and soundwork, it's incredible. Even dialogue delivery is suspenseful and it really shines as an example of talented film-making. 

But as a story? It doesn't really speak to me, which is sad, because I was listening before I even watched the movie. 

Souls 101: Lords of the Fallen

I never really got into the "Souls" games, which is weird because I'm a sucker for challenging RPGs. The game felt purposefully gimped in an effort to equate difficulty to enjoyment and I struggled to force myself to like it. In retrospect, it's sad to have to force yourself to like any game, but I figured that the problem lies with my expectations as the games are incredibly popular among those who committed their time to them. 

Heck, I don't even know what the fuck Dark Souls is about and I've played it for a solid 9 hours as it is. I think part of the allure to these games is that they're not so much about a progressive story, but instead try to focus more on intricate gameplay to capture the player. The only thing I can recall about Dark Soul's story is something about "Praise the Sun", and I only know this because of the abundance of messages that other players have left saying so. 

That said, I did give the games a fair chance and they didn't gel well with me. God forbid you tell this to other Souls fans, because implying that you don't enjoy the game is like outright insulting them. 

Don't get me wrong, I have an immense amount of respect and appreciation of the games (Genre? Are they their own genre?), but in the end I feel like I have to submit to the good ol' "It's not you; it's me." breakup argument to distance myself. It is me, and perhaps I'm just too casual for the games. Maybe I need to start somewhere easier and work my way up, so I can truly appreciate the Souls games. 

Enter Lords of the Fallen. 

Word on the street is that Lords of the Fallen is like Dark Souls Lite, so it seemed perfect as an introductory course into this genre. Figured I'd knock this sucker out in a weekend and have the opportunity to dig into Dark Souls before Bloodborne released, but the word on the street was wrong and I underestimated the extent of my ability to suck at these games. 

After a very aesthetically pleasing cinematic, the game thrusts you into this dark, merciless world. A short tutorial fight gets you to grips with the controls and fight mechanics, and that's it. You're on your own now, son! Time to go exploring this...what are we in, a church? Let us go explore this church and kill some...things! 

So, off we go, into corridors and passageways filled all manner of dangerous beasties and monsters that wish to dine on my bones. Dimly lit settings and ambient sounds straight out of the Grapefruit Lady video sets the stage for my first foray into this unforgiving environment. 

And it wasn't so bad...at first. The first few mobs, while packing a vicious punch, seemed to go down pretty easily. Block here, swing my sword on the parry, it all seemed to be going surprisingly well and confidence in my abilities grew exponentially by the sword-stroke. I still felt rather weak, but I figured that once the stats started rolling in, I would mature into a formidable demon-slaying force.  

The first boss fight (Fittingly named The First Warden) was a walk in the park. Well, not really a walk in the park since I died three times to him, but once I learned his mechanics the fight became rather trivial. The First Warden was a knight, twice the size of me, wielding a massive, flaming sword and shield, as well as being covered head-to-toe in armor. I originally just Leroy Jenkin'd my way into the fight and attempted to defeat him in an old fashion bout of fisticuffs, but soon learned that this tactic was futile. The trick was to just...roll. Just fucking roll out of range of his attacks and then counter with light attacks. At 50% HP he does a spinning attack, which does a ton of damage if you get caught in it, so the trick here is...roll. Just roll the fuck away and hit him when he stops. After figuring this out, I rolled my way to victory and came out on top with a shiny new sword for additional monster-slaying potency.

It's after the first boss when things started to get...errr...rough. I was introduced to a new type of mob, which was basically a smaller version of the last boss. These guys hit hard and blocked harder than a nun chaperoning a high school dance. My new sword had seemingly no effect on their attacks and I had to change my playstyle to accommodate this new adversary. I learned that the best tactic for these guys was to block and parry their attacks. This method of blocking and soaking up some damage seemed to become the most recurring tactic in the game, but it's not universal. 

About three hours in and I've died more times than I'd like to admit at this point. I just felt so...weak. I mean, with all this experience I'm getting, I should be scaling equally with the mobs, but instead I feel like skinny kid trying to beat up the rugby jocks. Checking my character development screen, I see that I have 8000 experience points on me...but have not gained a single stat. I should have leveled up by now, why haven't I gotten any points yet? 

Turns out that I need to "Bank" my experience points at checkpoint altars and that is how you level up your character. I've been running around this game for hours as a level 1 character, trying to beat shit on the next level. My Mrs. is laying on the couch next to me. I put the controller down and say "You know what, babe? I'm a fucking dumbass." She replies "I know baby." without knowing the context. My stupidity felt validated at this moment. 

With this new knowledge acquired, this horrendous world was at my fingertips. I sank my attributes into Strength, Vitality and Endurance and head off into the cold night. The once unsurpassable mobs became mere experience pinatas at the hand of my sword and shield. This shit was getting easier by the level. 

Or so I thought, because the next boss would rapidly bring this euphoric slaughter-fest to a halt.

Commander. Not "The Commander", but just "Commander" was the second boss I encountered, and it made me wish I had invested just a tad bit more attribute points into Vitality. Commander, like, The First Warden is a behemoth knight, wielding the standard-issue knight set of gigantic fucking sword and shield. He's got a wide array of abilities, such as shooting a shield-blast and stomping the ground, rendering you stunned for a short duration. However, the most challenging aspect of this boss for me was the adds. At quarterly health intervals, Commander would just hermit up in his shield and gain an invulnerability buff while simultaneously calling adds. I really struggled with the adds, but through trial and error, eventually beat Commander and his minions. Rolling helps in this fight, as with most other fights.

It was after beating Commander that I learned the appeal of these type of games. Being a recovering World of Warcraft player that was actively involved in competitive raiding, I got the same gratifying feeling in downing a troublesome boss that I did when I was raiding in WoW. It's the sense of achievement earned through perseverance and frustration. I even started approaching boss encounters like WoW, where if you started off on the wrong foot, it's better to wipe and try the fight again. 

With this new mentality, the game's dynamics changed for me. It became all about the end-game and all these corridors and passageways filled with monsters just became a means to gain experience which I would use to maximize my stats for the next boss fight. I had entered the WoW meta-game and from here, it's a slippery slope between casually playing this game and it becoming a full blown obsession. 

I started dying purposefully during fights just so I could run the area again for experience. Once I figured out the mechanics to each different mob type, it was just a matter of speed-running the area so I can bank all that XP. It's like Groundhog Day, but for mobs and experience. 

All that said, this newly-developed, repetitive mindset didn't dull the game's enjoyment in the least. Boss fights are still challenging and there's a certain magic in figuring out the mechanics of a fight in increments, until you're confident to the point where you tell yourself "I got this fucker next fight".

I'm now 7 bosses in or so and I can't wait to see what the next fight will be. I've accepted that these type of games take out the "Role Playing" out of RPG, because it's not so much a test of your character's abilities in these fights, but more a test on your abilities as a player to endure through them. 

I can get used to this. I should play Dark Souls again. 

Don't Fear The Stargate Reboot

Director Ronald Emmerich and Producer Dean Devlin have more Stargate up their sleeves and according to the buzz, it will be a trilogy that holds true to the original film's direction.

While Stargate (1994) was extremely well received, the spinoff TV series (Stargate SG1 and Stargate: Atlantis) gathered more of an audience than the original tale ever did. The Stargate series veered off the known track laid down by the original film and expanded on the universe in new and imaginative ways. With a charismatic cast lead by Richard Dean Anderson, and a rich universe filled with endless possibilities and changes in setting, it's of no wonder why the show captivated as many hearts as it did. Myself included.

However, news of the reboot has left fans of the show less than enthusiastic about it. There is a growing concern among the Stargate fanbase that the movies will not follow the show's long-established canon and could dull what is otherwise an enjoyable and refined storyline, much like the Star Wars prequels did for die-hard fans.

It really is a delicate subject to touch on, but a consideration needs to be made that even though Stargate SG1 (and the less popular Stargate Atlantis) has formed a rather large fan-following, the shows themselves were not in line with the original direction of the Stargate film.

There were quite a few key differences between the film and the series, particularly the concept of the Goa'uld, which are the protagonists in the show, being a parasitic alien entity capable of fully controlling their host. In the film, it was left to mystery, but was rather strongly implied that Ra was a Grey. The show jumped this hurdle by creating a race called the Asgard, which bear a significant likeness to the Greys and using him as a vessel controlled by the Goa'uld. Other notable differences include the location of planets, symbol differences used on different Stargates and that in most universes, everyone speaks English, where the movie portrays evident language barriers.

As an avid Stargate fan, having enjoyed both the movies and the series, I accept these differences only on the premise that the film and the series should be looked at as completely different entities that share a common theme. As soon as we start tying the movie and the show together as progressive canon, the whole universe falls apart at the seams due to the difference in writing direction.

Popular opinions aside, I would love for Emmerich and Devlin to unearth Stargate's original intentions. The 1994 film had a magnificent sense of mystery and wonder to it that unraveled itself to the viewer in a way that left them yearning for more by the end of the film. It felt well-rounded and provided a sense of closure, while at the same time being vague enough to leave a slight hint of mystery in the viewer.

I'm remaining positive that the Stargate trilogy will return to its roots and give us another intriguing universe to explore, more new concepts and ideas to stir our minds and ultimately come out as a series of films that can stand alone and not be overshadowed by the show's success.

....and since it's Emmerich, I'd like to see some grand-scale destruction as well, while we're at it.

The War of the Birds

The words "Homing Pigeon" tend to bring up a certain imagery of a dove with a message attached to its leg. Movies and popular culture often portray these messenger birds as being commonly used hundreds of years ago as a form of primitive communication. However, while the roots of these feathery mailmen span back some centuries, their usage in critical roles date back as recently as World War II and are rumored to be still used to this day.

The usefulness of pigeons, particularly Rock Pigeons as messengers lies solely on their migration patterns. A pigeon will always return to its place of birth when released and this makes for a perfect vessel of communication due to the low probability of interception. 

Pigeons in wartime were first used during the Franco-Prussian War at a time when Paris was under a four month siege by the Prussians. All communication channels were controlled by The Prussians and the French had little to any form of battlefield communications to coordinate counter-attacks and defenses to the Capital city.

Initially during the siege, pigeons were taken out of Paris via hot air balloon, where upon arrival at their destination, would be released again so they could make their way back to Paris. This was a form of "testing the waters" to see if the pigeons would make it over Prussian lines and into Paris successfully. It was a great success and these operations led to the common usage of the carrier pigeon during the Franco-Prussian war, which was also a pivotal point in wartime intelligence operations.

Pigeons were rounded up from all over Paris and sent to the North of France and vice versa, which helped fuel the French war effort and brought on the advent of Microfilm usage in wartime intelligence operations and communications. The War Pigeon made it's debut during this war and left a footprint that would last well over a century.

The use of War Pigeons saw a massive hike in popularity during World War 1, again by the French which advanced 72 pigeon lofts with their troops at The First Battle of the Marne. What was remarkable about this battle was the nature of the warfare. The French troops successfully stopped the German advance and began pushing the Germans back further and further, all the while their pigeons were still on route from previous orders. Even though the troops had since mobilized from their original positions, the pigeons managed to return to their individual lofts, undeterred by this new change in location.

It was not only the French that adopted the pigeons into their ranks, but the Americans also utilized the pigeons in the war effort. Pigeons were deployed as part of the U.S Army Signal Corps and were used to such an extent that it brought rise to the first wartime decorated pigeon, Cher Ami.

Yes, you're reading that right. A pigeon received the Croix de Guerre for its service during World War 1, and for good reason.

On October 3rd, 1918 the U.S 77th Division was trapped and isolated by German forces in the Argonne Forest. More than 500 men were met with a prolonged barrage of artillery and infantry fire from the Germans, and of the 500 men that embarked on that operation, only 194 remained, trapped and under fire not only from the Germans, but also from their own allies.

Cut off not only from war supplies, but also military rations and water, the division found itself in a horrible position that could not hold much longer. Out of the troop's pigeon lofts, only 3 pigeons remained, with two being shot down by Germans while attempting to communicate the division's distress messages.

Charles White Whittlesy, in command of the division made several unsuccessful attempts at communication through the usage of runners which were either shot down or captured by the German forces. As a last resort, Whittlesy turned to his last racing pigeon, Cher Ami.

Under fire from their own forces due to a lack of communication of position, Cher Ami was dispatched with the following message:

"We are along the road parallel to 276.4. Our own artillery is dropping a barrage directly on us. For heaven's sake, stop it."

Cher Ami's journey was not without its own problems, because as soon as she took flight, she came under heavy fire from the Germans which spotted her. With bullets flying past her continuously, she was eventually hit and dropped out of the skies.

Like a scene out of a movie, Cher Ami took flight once again. Mangled and bloodied, this pigeon managed to make the 40km flight in a mere 25mins where her message not only alleviated the artillery barrage on the troops, but also helped relay their location which led to their rescue.

Cher Ami sustained a wound through the breast, was blinded in one eye and her left leg was hanging on by the tendons, but she managed to deliver this crucial message when it was needed most. Army medics fought vigorously to save her life and made Cher Ami a hero of the 77th division. She earned a Croix de Guerre for this valiant effort and is immortalized today in the Smithsonian Institution.

War Pigeons were not only limited to ground forces, but were also used as a vital communication tool in aerial warfare during World War I. The United States Navy held multiple pigeon stations in France with over 1500 pigeons in total being used. The pigeons traveled in the aircraft and were used to relay important information back to land, such as enemy location, sizes of forces and even distress signals without the plane needing to make a return. This meant more operational time for the pilots and less chance of interception by enemy troops.

World War II saw the highest usage of War Pigeons in history, with over 250,000 racing pigeons being deployed in the war by the United Kingdom alone. This large use of the homing pigeon during the war inspired Walt Disney's 2005 animated film Valiant, which follows the story of a woodland pigeon that aspires to join the Royal Homing Pigeon Service during World War II, The story portrays the struggles of these pigeons in service as they try to fulfill their duties in spite of the threat of Germany's Falcon Brigade.

While it's an entertaining kid's story, there is some truth to this fictitious tale.

Falcons  were indeed trained to intercept messenger pigeons, but not by Germans. MI5, a  British Intelligence and Security Agency trained special squad of Peregrine Falcons to intercept Nazi carrier pigeons and interrupt specialized communications.

As many as 32 pigeons received the Dickin Medal for their roles in World War II.  Many of these birds not only saved the lives of hundreds of soldiers, but also relayed vital information between battalions that helped the advancement of the war effort.  They formed the backbone of communications, helped immensely during intelligence operations through the use of photography and assisted in filling a void that was present in wartime correspondence.

Today, technology has made War Pigeons irrelevant in modern combat. Instant communication, drone surveillance and satellite imagining means that these once valuable animals have been retired from the usage in warfare and are bred for recreational purposes. While they may not find a place in today's armies, the pigeon will always be prized for its endurance and determination in finding its way back home.

The Da Vinci Code: A Series of Terrible Decisions - Part 3.

After a very dramatic song and dance reveal from Sir Teabing about the hidden meaning of Leonardo Da Vinci's 'The Last Supper' mural, the group is abruptly interrupted by Silas, an escaped felon that's into S&M, who was reformed by the church and used as a tool to cover up the hidden bloodline and keep it under wraps.

                                 Nobody told me the Slim Shady do was out. 

Silas came for the Cryptex, a protected puzzle-box which supposedly contains the whereabouts of Mary Magdalene's body. After holding everyone up at gunpoint, Silas is caught off guard by the back end of Sir Teabing's walking-stick, which incapacitates Silas long enough for The Da Vinci Coders to take him hostage and make a rapid escape before the police show up.

Putting myself in Robert Langdon's shoes, it's very hard to not imagine me having a moment of clarity and realizing how absurd everything has become. From becoming implicated in multiple murders, evading police in car chases, being held up at gun point two times and now holding a hostage, I'd be pressed not to reflect that my decision-making skills may not be up to par.

However, Robert Langdon is not a man to worry about small details such as these. No, he's got bigger fish to fry, he's got to unravel a 2000 year old mystery and time is of the essence. 

Albino monk hostage in tow, the mystery-solving threesome make a getaway in Teabing's plane and get the their asses out of France before the French police come raining down on them. Once airborne, they figure out that their next point of interest is in England and change their flight path accordingly. 

On course to England, the French police contact the London police services to apprehend the trio at the airport. However, they did not account on the pilot breaking various air-traffic laws and protocols (and probably losing his license in the process) and making a quick nip into a hangar, which buys Sophie and Langdon enough time to disembark the plane and hide in Teabing's car before the police get there. 

Oh, and Albino monk as well. They managed to get him in the car too.

Off they go to Temple Church where effigies are scattered around in various poses. "A knight with his legs crossed means he has been to the Holy Land" says Teabing with confidence. Which is a cool piece of trivia, but incorrect. There are a lot of misconceptions regarding the cross-legged knights meaning, but the common understanding is that is signifies dignified reverence of the Christian Faith. Nothing about going to the Holy Land. If you've lived your life by The Book, then you get to have a relaxed-looking effigy.

                                                         Oh, you know. Just chillin'.

Once again, Silas the Albino Monk shows up out of nowhere with a knife. He takes Sophie hostage and demands the Cryptex. Remy enters with a gun and reveals himself to be working alongside Silas, he too demands the Cryptex.

What's this...like the third time that Robert Langdon has had a gun in his face?

With the Cryptex in his possession, Silas takes Teabing as a hostage and leaves Remy to finish Sophie and Langdon off. Divine intervention in the form of white doves flapping overhead distract Remy long enough for Sophie and Langdon to make an escape. Curses, foiled again by those damn doves.

Remy cuts his losses and heads off in the car with Silas and Teabing as a hostage. It's at this point that Remy reveals himself to Silas as "The Teacher", an orchestrator and coordinator of the coverup plan. Remy and Silas part ways and it cuts to a scene of Remy talking to the true "Teacher" who turns out to be none other than Teabing himself, who obviously murders Remy. Obviously.

Sophie and Langdon continue on their literal hunt for the Holy Grail after escaping near-death at the hands of Remy. Sophie honeypots a kid on the bus into letting them use his phone and with it they use Google to establish that they are actually looking for Isaac Newton who was buried by Alexander Pope and not literally "A pope" as they read it. So off they go to Westminster Abbey where Newton is buried.

Upon arrival and some clever detective work from Sophie, they discover Teabing there who reveals himself to be "The Teacher". He has been after The Grail for his own personal desires, being that he wishes to reveal Jesus' mortality to the world. It's at this point that he holds the two hostage and tries to intimidate Sophie into opening the Cryptex, which she is unable to do.

                                                       Open it! 

                                  Dude, I can't even solve a Rubik's Cube. 

Langdon steps up to the plate and offers a crack at it. He goes into super-autistic mode and start to visualize all the different combinations of letters relating to Isaac Newton. He cracks the code, does some amazing David Copperfield-like sleight of hand and pockets the note before sealing the Cryptex and saying he can't solve it.

Before Teabing can react to this, Langdon plays a little Bangkok Rules and throws the Cryptex in the air, making Teabing rush to catch it and drop the gun. The Cryptex landed on the ground and cracked, vinegar pouring out of it and tears pouring out of Teabing's face.

Detective Fache storms in at this point and arrests Teabing. He managed to figure things out for himself through his journey and only takes Langdon and Sophie down to the precinct for questioning. Their names have been cleared. What a fucking ride.

But it's not over because Langdon managed to Houdini the papyrus scroll.

The scroll directs them to Scotland, where they discover some hidden Da Vinci paintings and the place where Mary Magdalene's body once rested. They establish that Sophie is indeed part of Jesus' royal bloodline and she is a descendant of Christ. The rest of the Priory of Sion show up with some of Sophie's remaining relatives and they fill her in on further details and confirm Langdon's findings.

Sophie and Langdon part ways and Langdon figures out the poem which suggests that the body of Mary Magdalene has been beneath the pyramid at the Louvre all along. Funnily enough, the pyramid was the first thing Langdon noticed at the start of the movie and mentioned it's uniqueness.

                                 

From becoming an international fugitive to cracking the world's oldest riddle, Robert Langdon has done it all in the two and a half very long hours this movie takes. He evaded police, murderers, had multiple guns pointed at him and ultimately walked away from it all victorious and unscathed. All in all, it was a mighty quest which could have been avoided if he didn't take Sophie's message to heart, but in the end the risk was outweighed by the benefits of uncovering the world's biggest secret - that Jesus was just a carpenter.

The Da Vinci Code: A Series of Terrible Decisions - Part 2.

Robert Langdon is not a man known for having the best judgment as outlined in my previous post about the first 30mins of The Da Vinci Code. From purposefully incriminating himself, endangering priceless paintings and civilian lives on the streets of Paris, to blindly following the every whim of a woman he just met, because he's Robert Langdon.

The average person would most likely draw the line probably somewhere between becoming a foreign fugitive and getting chased by the cops through the tiniest little alleys in Paris, but not Robert Langdon. 

                              I'm starting to think that Sophie's not really into me. 

                                     

No, Robert Langdon is not deterred by all of this, even when taken through a lesser-traveled part of Paris, rife with open prostitution and drug abuse. Sure, the cops aren't going to come look for them here, but shit, if one of the abundant crackheads decide to take a knife to them, the cops aren't going to be on their way to help either. 

But I suppose that when you're France's No. 1 fugitive, the police are the last friends you need. You need a friend that can help you, preferably one that is close by and happens to be incredibly wealthy and coincidentally the most knowledgeable person about this particular topic on the planet.  

You need a friend like Gandalf. 

Well, not actually Gandalf, but Sir Ian McKellen's character, Sir Leigh Teabing, who in some weird way, is the Gandalf of The Da Vinci Code. 

And this is where I start veering off track from Robert Langdon for a bit and want to start addressing some inaccuracies in the movie, so let me just get down to Sir Teabing's analysis.

And in case the video doesn't embed properly, see the Youtube link here.

Now, that's a wonderful interpretation, but it's missing one important fact being that there were 12 disciples/apostles and if Mary Magdalene  had been one, that would mean that the painting's depiction of the Last Supper was incorrect. 

But for the sake of this, let's continue with your interpretation, Gandalf. 

During the contrast of the painting, where he isolates Jesus and "Mary", Teabing shows that the negative space between them represents a chalice. He then further drives his point home by pointing out that there is in fact, no grail on the table and negative space between them itself is the chalice. Which is all good for the film's purposes, but it's missing something crucial.

The Holy Grail is not necessarily a chalice/cup. It's also widely known as a plate or saucer, which would throw all of Mr. Teabing's CSI-like detective work out of the window. In fact, the earliest mentions of the Holy Grail derive from a 12th century French poet named Chrétien de Troyes, who describes the grail as being a decorated chalice which he saw being transported (along with many other wonderful objects) while dining in the abode of Fisher King. He makes no mention of Holy implications or being the vessel in The Last Supper.

No, The Holy Grail being a divine object used in The Last Supper originates from another 12th Century French poet named Robert de Boron who tied the Holy Grail to Christianity. Prior to this, the Grail was never mentioned in Eastern Christian sources. Not once. Ever. 

                                      Yeah, that's just a random cup, Indy. 

Furthermore, there is no book called "The Gospel of Mary Magdalene", It's actually just The Gospel of Mary which is a very controversial "book" in itself as scholars still cannot agree whether it referenced Mary, wife of Joseph or Mary Magdalene. The Gospel of Mary is also an incomplete set of texts and thus not recognized as canonical. 

All facts considered, without these inaccuracies, there probably wouldn't have been any grounds for Mr. Dan Brown to base his book, so let's continue taking a look at Robert Langdon's own inaccuracies in symbolism. 

Langdon's presentation about symbolism is a misinterpreted clusterfuck, particularly the images shown of the Peace Sign/Witch's Foot/Crow's Foot which is supposed to be a representation of Christ hanging upside down on a crucifix. 

While it's nifty concept, it's also completely wrong. Firstly, because the peace symbol is in fact a two initials representing the flag semaphore signals for "N" and "D", which are the initials for Nuclear Disarmament. You can see the signals here.

So, where does the Crow/Witch's foot come from? 

Well, for that answer, we'll have to delve into a bit American history regarding the Vietnam war. During the war, the peace sign was not seen favorably due its liberal use among hippies and protesters against the war itself. With war being as profitable as it is, an effort was made to discredit the Peace Symbol and tie in to communism, satanism and Nazism. Basically, anything that the American populace feared was tied into the Peace Sign. The first mention of this is in Peace Symbols: The Truth about Those Strange Designs, published in a 1970 issue of American Opinion , by The John Birch Society, a radical right fundamental Christian Political group.

This is why we can't have nice things. 

Next post will tackle more Robert Langdon and the terrible decisions he makes in The Da Vinci Code.