If you are the mayor of Filmstack please see this as my application to join and let me know if I’m accepted. I look forward to hearing from you.

Everyone in the pit is safe. We all enter and leave together. Sometimes if you’re really lucky or if you really need it, it forms around you and that one is yours and you can do whatever, feel however, be whomever.

The first show I ever went to was in 2007, Projekt Revolution, the summer festival founded and headlined by Linkin Park. Their support that year, among several side stage bands, were My Chemical Romance and Taking Back Sunday. I was 14, I wore my tightest jeans and red and black skate shoes with metal studs along the side. I saw Saosin on the side stage and went over to the main stage for the final three acts. Taking Back Sunday and My Chemical Romance were incredible and I would have considered TBS my second favorite band at the time.

Linkin Park held the top spot by a mile, and when the sun started to set and they took the stage, the atmosphere took on a wholly different feeling. Before I knew it I was moving. Standing in the lawn section of the Shoreline Amphitheater with my brother, cousin, and dad, none of us having experienced a show like this before, I didn’t know what to do. But the body knows, and I didn’t have to decide to let myself dance, throw my arms and head convulsively back and forth for the two hour set.

The curative power of communal dance has now been the subject of at least two standout film scenes in under a year. Each scene, in Sinners and now 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple, takes the opportunity to disregard the real. Let emotion, movement, light, rage, sorrow, and music take on any form, and in the freedom, those taking part are cured. The Bone Temple uses the unstructured, frantic, sometimes rageful mosh pit as treatment administered by a doctor.

Nia DaCosta steps in to direct the sequel to 2025’s 28 Years Later, the second in a new trilogy of zombie movies set 28 years after the “Rage Virus” ravages Britain. Where 28 Years Later (2025) centers the young Spike (Alfie Williams), his experience escaping his isolated community to find help for his sick mother, and eventually setting off on his own, The Bone Temple shifts between two unwittingly opposing factions. Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal (Jack O’Connell), is the leader of a cultish group of Satanists, heinously committing violence at the will of Jimmy Crystal’s supposed father, Satan himself. Opposite to them is Dr. Ian Kelson (Ralph Fiennes), the doctor who diagnosed Spike’s mother with cancer and taught Spike valuable lessons about life and death in the previous film.

DaCosta and cinematographer Sean Bobbitt, make excellent and efficient work of POV, driving home hard the theme of perspective and empathy. The infected see monsters when they attack people. We know the uninfected humans see monsters in them. Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal hears the voice of his “father” in his head, and eventually sees the cured alpha, Samson (Chi Lewis-Parry), as Satan with horns and an armor-like physique. As he hangs, crucified upside down, he pleads with who he believes to be his father “why have you forsaken me?” just as he did as an eight year old child, never moving on from that moment, never recovering or learning.

Contrastingly, Dr. Ian Kelson is so empathetic, he vibes out the rage infected Samson. Technically, I guess he gets him addicted to painkillers, but in doing so discovers it unclouds his mind somewhat from the rage. He is able to befriend Samson in this state as Samson returns each day for another dose. Kelson talks to him, finds companionship in him, and yes, dances with him. When Samson eventually speaks, “Moon,” Kelson believes he can cure his mind.

It’s Kelson’s empathy that leads to this discovery and also how he ultimately gains the upper hand against Jimmy when they finally cross paths. When they meet one on one, Jimmy almost immediately opens up to Kelson, tells him about the voice of his father in his head, how he’s been this way since he was eight years old and the virus struck, and how he has been searching for his father, and some form of love all this time. All he can do to protect his own delusion is threaten Kelson, despite telling him he’s the only person he’s liked in 28 years.

Kelson is forced to play along as Satan to the rest of the gang of Jimmys and confirm to them Jimmy Crystal’s place as Satan’s favorite son, and in playing the part puts on a spectacle of fire, music, drugs, and BONES. He’s not just playing the part here, however. Kelson sees who Jimmy is in their conversation, and deduces the psyche of his band of followers who’ve grown into adults from kids in an unforgiving and dangerous world, left to fend for themselves or die. He gives them what he had, and what is established throughout a couple of incredible needle drops in the film. Kelson loves music and dancing, Kelson has emotional outlets. He’s felt love and lived in a world that felt stable.

The Jimmys are overcome by Kelson’s passionate performance (and maybe also by a little cocaine) to Iron Maiden’s “The Number of the Beast,” flailing their arms, kicking their legs, jerking their necks in every direction. More amazing POV shots of how the world around you spins and blurs and becomes ethereal, like it doesn’t matter. They scream and laugh and dance and are free.

In my 30’s and in a new state, I go to shows alone for the most part. When I would go with my friends in high school and beyond, it was the before and after rituals that we spent bonding, drinking pre-mixed rum and Dr. Pepper in the parking lot, and going to Mel’s Diner for a grilled cheese afterward, drenched in sweat. During the shows we’d start off together, get separated in the crowd, but always find each other in the pit.

I still find friends in the pit now. I don’t know their names, never had a conversation with them, but when you run into someone who loves what you love and is feeling what you’re feeling, you take a moment to put an arm around each other, belt out the next few lines of the song together, and get back to it. These are moments that make me feel alive. I’ll hold on to these memories forever and no amount of bullshit can make me forget they exist. 28 Days Later which began the unlikely franchise in 2002, was about the rage induced psychosis that was bubbling up and has in the last 24 years festered into the world we live in today. Increasing isolation, like the island Spike comes from has left people devoid of happy memories of community and social bonds. These are things, like Kelson’s love of music and dance, that keep us motivated and connected and give us a true sense of freedom.

As Jim (Cillian Murphy) says in 28 Days Later, after surviving not only the infected, but the military men who wanted to keep them hostage and realizing his love for the group is keeping him going, “it’s not all fucked.”

Thanks for reading!

Again, if you are the mayor of Filmstack please let me know if I’ve been accepted. Thank you again.

Subscribe now

There is a note plastered to the motel room wall next to the bathroom. Eugene had been here for a few days but just noticed it now of all times, when a loud thunder clap knocked the power out for a brief moment, an enraged tow truck driver tore out of the parking lot swearing and slamming into a generator on his way, and a fireball engulfed the night sky, threatening to consume everything.

None of that was new to me though because in Rue Valley, you’re stuck in a time loop, reliving the same 47 minutes between 8:00 and 8:47pm. Each loop you wake up in therapy and end with the fiery apocalypse. Or at least that’s what it seems. Visually and mechanically, Rue Valley evokes Disco Elysium. Create your Eugene with personality points along three spectrums, Decisional, Social, and Emotional, making him either impulsive or calculated, introverted or extroverted, sensitive or indifferent. Each of these stats activates a quirk when leveled to a certain point that either unlocks or blocks certain dialogue options. For example having the Dramatic quirk will allow you to say you think you’re a hopeless loser in therapy who will die alone and soon, but having the Reckless quirk will *not* allow you to check the caller ID before answering your phone. This mechanic intrigued me more than anything else in Rue Valley, and I hope to see it again in future games from newcomers Emotion Spark Studio.

So I knew everything outside would happen but I hadn’t yet interacted with this note on the wall. I click it, Eugene saunters over and the game informs me, “no time to read this- you need to figure out what’s really going on.” Got it, the game is a mystery, there is a central mystery I have to solve, and this note is meaningless.

Clicking on anything else in the room prompts a, “feels unimportant right now,” text box so I walk Eugene outside as seems to be my only option. Sure enough it’s raining, there appears to be signs that a truck rushed away, and we are in fact in a time loop. Everything we already saw from the loop before.

Ironically, the note on the wall was a long list of rules for the motel, each increasingly absurd like only one pillow per bed, no exceptions, no whistling after 8pm (so the entirety of the time the game takes place within the loop), etc. I can’t even tell you all of the rules because after clicking on a few of them to read, the game decided for me that there were just too many to care about, despite having the option to click on any I wanted prior to that. Even going back to the list on subsequent loops, I wasn’t able to interact with it further. The rules of the game decided that I, the player, was done reading the rules and even labelled me a rule breaker.

“The rules stare down at you, judging. They know you’re breaking them.” This is the message I get each time I try to read the note now, however it’s not in reference to anything I’ve done other than trying to play the game in a way that makes sense to me and the character I’ve assigned a personality. Time and again I tried to interact with things, be certain places at certain times, or create scenarios with new information, but the restrictions of the 47 minute loop and inconsistencies in the narrative design kept me railroaded to specific actions or outright broke the logic of the timeline.

In one loop, for example, I overheard the receptionist, Robin, speaking with another guest who has an important meeting to call into, but the motel internet is down. She offers him a bike that’s leaning against the motel just outside to get to her mom’s nearby restaurant to use the WiFi there which he accepts. However on the next loop, I tried to go to his room to speak to him about his dilemma before that point, but the only dialogue option was, “sorry, wrong room.” When I went to go sit on a bench to pass time for when he does leave on the bike, the descriptive text reads, “he left in a hurry. I wonder where he’s going,” as if I hadn’t heard the conversation the loop before.

I was continually reminded of the rules plastered on the walls of each motel room and felt the connection between them and the ones coded into the game. Everything pointed to there being a right and wrong way to play. Being told what’s important and what isn’t pushed me toward specific actions, and when I did try to come up with my own solutions, the game seemed to pretend I didn’t as it would have broken the intended order of events.

The characters that surround the story are all quirky themselves and add life to Rue Valley as they enter and part on their specific timelines, and their voice acting is a welcome touch. Robin in particular is a lively people pleaser just itching at all times for something to do or someone to talk to as she deals with her own emotional turmoil and seemingly runs the motel mostly on her own.

Eventually, a mystery within the mystery of the time loop and the sky explosion opens up the story with tantalizing new theories, but they come just a bit too late and after too much railroading to finally get you there. By then I felt I was still forcing myself along, knowing playing Eugene as the Eugene I had attempted to create was meaningless.

As a debut, Rue Valley is ambitious. It evokes Disco Elysium and similar CRPG’s in a major disservice to what expectations should be. The time loop and linearity of the story undermine the RPG elements, and the player often feels unwelcome in the developer’s world. The personality the player assigns to Eugene at the beginning shapes his responses in an interesting mechanic that blocks or unlocks responses, but those options don’t matter much in the end, as the game’s code has strict rules about what you can and can’t do at any given time. I’d love to see this mechanic developed further in a future game where there are consequences to choosing to arrogantly scream at a receptionist, but this is not such a game. This game is about rules, following them closely loop after loop, and being labelled a rule breaker anyway.

Leave a comment

Note: There is a writing challenge at the end of the second section I’d love to see my fellow writers try!

Warning: Some early and mid-game item names spoiled within. No story spoilers.

What does it mean to role play? In a tabletop setting, our characters and the world around them are entirely imagined, and the possibilities are nearly endless. In video games, we’re limited by what’s been programmed into them. Even the best RPGs can’t account for every possibility, so how do the greats of the genre become so great? They leave room for that original tabletop mechanic: your imagination.

Some star blank slate characters like The Legend of Zelda’s Link or the Tarnished in Elden Ring. Others offer a wealth of character customization options like Baldur’s Gate III and Skyrim. There is another curious type of RPG, however, that gives us a full character to play.

One of the highest rated RPGs of all time is The Witcher 3, which follows Geralt of Rivia. Not only do we as the player not “create” Geralt at the start, the game’s developer, CD Projekt Red, didn’t create him either, as the games are based on a series of novels! Combat generally consists of sword fights supplemented by a preset offering of spells and various potions for temporary buffs. This seems like a strict set of characteristics for one of the most highly regarded RPGs of all time, no?

This question occurred to me while playing Hollow Knight: Silksong. The highly anticipated sequel is, like it’s predecessor, a 2D platformer with metroidvania elements, but “Soulslike” and “RPG” are also often assigned to it with varying levels of agreeability. Hollow Knight gives us the silent protagonist, The Knight, or The Vessel if you nasty. A perfect blank slate (or vessel) for the player’s characterization, The Knight fights through the cursed world of Hollownest without a word.

Hornet in Silksong by contrast is more like Geralt with a personality and dialogue all her own. What room is there for my imagination in Silksong? Like The Witcher III, one of the highest rated RPGs of all time, there is as much room as you can imagine.

Who is Hornet?

Hornet, unlike The Knight, speaks! No dialogue options, either. Pieces of her personality have been decided by Team Cherry and are non-negotiable. She’s confident and competent. She will tout her own skills as well as recognize the abilities of others and what they might be able to teach her. Others recognize her as an impressive bug and will often express awe at her abilities, even referring to her as “special” in some way. Her response to this is modesty, owning her skill but commenting that she has much to learn, and has lost much of her strength after being kidnapped and brought here to the land of Pharloom.

She doesn’t know why she’s been brought here, but she’s determined to find out by ascending the dangerous path to The Citadel above, a holy place that is the destination for many devout pilgrims she meets early on. She learns they are responsible for bringing her here and will stop at nothing to reach them. Even at a point mid-way through the first act, Hornet has a chance to leave Pharloom and continue her life, but opts to stay, arguing she will forever be haunted by the question if she leaves.

Many of the NPCs she meets are devout pilgrims, seeking The Citadel for religious purposes. Hornet is quick to warn them of the dangers of the road, and a strange illness that has befallen many that came before, but is never disrespectful, even if she can’t understand their faith. She finds a kinship with Shakra, a warrior who’s landed in Pharloom on their own quest unrelated to the pilgrimage. It’s with Shakra she’s able to speak more freely about the religion, The Citadel, and later The Citadel’s industrialization, which Shakra abhors.

We learn about Hornet fairly quickly, and these personality traits persist throughout. Her confidence, determination, and kindness to the pilgrims paint a pleasing, likeable picture of our protagonist, but when we open up the menu, we can start to imagine more possibilities.

Who is Hornet to Me?

As a 2D action platformer, many of the upgrades Hornet acquires are a means of traversal. Air dashing, wall jumping, grappling, are all essential tools and much of the combat is, to me, best approached from a place of movement and positioning.

Your build will start with your chosen Crest of which there are several that can drastically change Hornet’s movement and combat style. Some deal quick, lighter hits like the Wanderer Crest, others deal heavy damage like the Beast Crest. For my play style, I stuck with the Hunter’s Crest with it’s balance of speed and power and, yes, the oft maligned diagonal pogo (I believe it’s just me and in this camp, read her thoughts here). This decision made, my Hornet began to take shape.

My Hornet values efficiency especially in such a hostile, unknown place that she’s been whisked away to. She’s on a mission and The Hunter Crest’s balance allows for strong, moderately quick strikes, taking down enemies in her path with efficiency. Tacking on the Weighted Belt to reduce her knock back allows her to land more blows in succession. The Silkspeed Anklets increase Hornet’s running speed at the cost of Silk which has landed us in trouble, but again, efficiency is the name of the game.

To make up for the lost Silk, a valuable resource generated through landing attacks that is used for various purposes like healing and using certain items, Hornet holds close the Weavelight. The Weavelight increases the rate of Silk generation, making it the perfect complement for her heavy Silk use. Plus, when my Hornet holds this Weavelight she feels a strange connection to it. She can’t seem to let it go.

Added to her inventory of empowering relics is the Pollip Pouch, which applies poison to consumable tools. The Threefold Pins which come out extremely fast and in three directions, are useful for taking on multiple enemies, flying enemies, or dealing a final blow to a hard fought boss. A fast ranged move such as this with the added poison damage from the Pollip Pouch makes fights faster, showcasing Hornet’s competence, determination, and my custom trait of efficiency.

Through combat customization, Hornet’s personality can be imagined to fit that playstyle. The Wanderer Crest with its lighter hits may imply a more passive Hornet, hesitant to kill infected pilgrims, for example. Every choice can inform the character, likewise, what I’ve chosen not to use can mean just as much.

Writing Challenge: Which crest did you use in Silksong? What could that play style say about YOUR Hornet? Leave a comment!

Leave a comment

Shakra spoke of The Citadel’s industrialization with disgust, their trinkets a symbol of the greed which caused so much despair. Hornet will eventually meet an automaton created by The Citadel, Twelfth Architect, who creates powerful tools Hornet can use. Hornet, respectful and kind, holds no ill will toward Twelfth Architect, but even so, my Hornet refuses to use The Citadel’s technology, despite being the most efficient tools for her journey. Perhaps her perception was colored by Shakra, or she saw that The Citadel did to the pilgrims who only wanted to worship them. These are theories my Hornet has thought up to mask her true fear. She’s afraid this broken kingdom might all be her fault.

The Hero’s Journey

In our journey through Pharloom we’ve met and helped countless other bugs. In our practical, efficient fashion, many of the wishes we grant to other bugs are justified through Hornet’s dialogue that what she learns or gains will be valuable to her on her own path, which makes her happy to help, but this isn’t always the case. Sometimes she’s just helping for helpings sake, like donating shards or rosaries to a town to help it rebuild. Hornet, textually, is kind. She grows to care about the people she meets and eventually inadvertently creates a haven for surviving pilgrims within The Citadel, but there’s something that gets harder and harder to ignore, a truth that is known to us, and everyone in Pharloom right from the start. Silk, the same Silk Hornet has the ability to generate, is what is used to infect the pilgrims, manipulate Pharloom to The Citadel’s whim. The pilgrims think this makes Hornet holy, special, but Hornet isn’t a believer. Is Hornet connected to this somehow?

As I, the player, approach the point of no return, I reflect on my time with Silksong. I’m loving it. It’s everything I wanted it to be after the long wait. Hornet’s acrobatic movement and combat feel even better to me than The Knight (Vessel), and the customization means any player can decide how they want to play, who Hornet is to them. Hornet and I both have doubts about who that is. Not ready to face the music, we turn back. We scour every inch of Pharloom below and The Citadel above and find poor bugs who need help and evidence of the destruction The Citadel had brought upon this land. We grew angry. It fueled us. We built up every rest stop along the road to give weary pilgrims a place to rest, to heal them, unsure if that wasn’t just fueling The Citadel’s ends in bringing more pilgrims to their doorstep.

One of those bugs was Greyroot who we’ve grown to trust since meeting them early on. It was Greyroot who gave Hornet the Pollip Pouch which became and invaluable staple of her arsenal, poisoning enemies and quickening fights. We returned to Greyroot after finding a poor, screaming creature, tangled in similar dark roots we found around their home. This is when everything changed.

Greyroot incapacitates Hornet, embeds the creature in her shell and buries her to be overtaken by its curse. Again, she’s been taken and stripped of her abilities, the cursed tangle of roots blocking Silk generation. This time by someone she considered a friend. She eventually finds refuge, an outcast doctor who’s methods were deemed too dangerous and now lives in exile was all too eager to help. She is Hornet’s only hope. When the procedure is finished, Hornet is in agony, the pain greater than any she’s yet felt, but the curse is lifted. Even so, the dark roots still live within her as the Witch Crest, offering a new build option, and newfound motivations. Hornet takes to the new crest, how it allows for her to leave behind deadly traps when being hit. It’s the perfect crest for revenge.

To Be Continued…

I remember the stories from my Catholic upbringing far clearer than anything else I learned in elementary school. Going to a Catholic school meant I was in school for the same amount of time as any other elementary school, but one of those hours each day was in Church or studying the Bible. My own complicated relationship with faith notwithstanding, those stories stick with me because they kinda rule, and if there's a little song associated with it? Forget it. I remember each one to this day, and my childhood friend and I will sometimes bust out a deep cut while catching up over drinks or on the phone.

One of my strongest held beliefs is that singing songs together binds people, strengthens communities, and having songs that resonate with a community as a whole is the greatest power in the world. I feel it at every concert or show I've ever been to, my musical tastes having evolved to more progressive, "mathy" metal-adjacent music. There's no greater sense of belonging than singing and screaming with a group of strangers.

I'm not sure why for the 6 years I've been eagerly anticipating Hollow Knight's sequel along with the rest of the world, I never once put together that SilkSONG would essentially be about to power of music, its role in a society, how it shapes culture, how it is used to uplift, and in religious ceremony. Then not an hour into playing on the day of its release, I met Sherma. She, like the rest of the pilgrims in the opening rest area are on a religious journey toward the holy Citadel. It is known to be a dangerous one, but it's a journey any truly devout bug would embark on knowing their faith will guide them through safely.

Sherma is no different other than she wears a fancy hat and sings a beautiful song that she believes will open the first gate to begin her pilgrimage. She's a stout little bug with short legs and arms that fully extend to clang together the chimes that accompany her song. She sings in a monotone staccato for most of the song, but its simplicity is charming and inviting. It makes you want to sing along. As you talk with her, she is quick to deny any help or warnings of danger, knowing her faith will guide her safely to The Citadel.

As the formidable Hornet, or "Red Maiden," as Sherma calls her, which rules, we navigate through The Marrow, fighting dangerous bugs wearing skulls as armor, looping around to the opposite side of the locked gate, and flipping a switch to open it.

Even as we emerge from the other side of the gate triumphantly and heroically, Sherma praises... the power of her song and her faith? Wait, no, Sherma, I did that. I flipped a switch, it's right there you can see it! Sherma moves on, singing her song, sure footed along the dangerous path to The Citadel. We'll meet Sherma again, but not before another important bug with an equally important song.

Shakra couldn't be more different from Sherma. They stand much taller than Hornet, who Shakra calls "Child Bearing Needle," due to Hornets stature and Shakra's warrior culture. They are on a quest unrelated to the religious pilgrimage to follow in the footsteps of their master. Shakra's teacher in the ways of combat, who they hold in the highest regard, set out on a mission here, and Shakra is determined to find her.

Shakra sings a song from the warrior culture in the hopes their master will hear, eventually luring Hornet. The vocal is superb. The melody is intricate yet catches you with a hook any pop producer would be jealous of. Unlike the staccato style of Sherma's song, Shakra's notes are varied, some drawn out through half of a musical phrase, while others go on runs that flow through highs and lows.

Shakra's quest is personal and mysterious. Several times we will meet them in act one to buy copies of their maps and even to aid each other in battle; but each time, Shakra believes they are getting closer and closer to their master. They claim there is evidence that their master was just here in this spot! Surely we've seen her? We must be so close! Yet we as Hornet cannot see this evidence. Is it really there? Or is it just something we wouldn't recognize?

The world of Silksong deals in faith, quite literally. Its currency are rosary beads which are traded for goods to other pilgrims and bugs along the way. Some bugs are greedy for them as they believe their faith will bring them safely to The Citadel, and the more beads, the more faith, right? Others are greedy for them because they own shops and they want to run a successful business. There is a subtle, unexpressed greed, however throughout the world. There are mechanisms clad in gold peppered along the journey to The Citadel, each offering some form of rest or safety. These are mechanisms of The Citadel placed here for pilgrims to use. If, of course, they have the rosaries to pay for their activation.

Benches along the way that will heal Hornet cost rosaries to be used, and upon their activation sound a bell, a common instrument of The Citadel. In the last run up to The Citadel's Grand Gate, there is a mechanism to activate a bench for 60 rosaries. Our sweet Sherma sits next to the deactivated bench having endured the treacherous climb to this point and assures us as we speak to her that she is fine and that her song and her faith will activate this holy contraption.

We warn her of even greater dangers ahead, a formidable boss fight that I'd already lost to once, The Last Judge. We see the judge obliterate three pilgrims waiting outside the gate when we first approach. I had to stop Sherma from going there. She is undeterred, and continues to wait next to the mechanism.

This particular bench is not entirely necessary for Hornet. It's right next to a Bell Beast station, a fast travel point where Hornet can travel instantly to any number of other stations that have an already activated bench. I also happened to be short on rosaries having used them all on items I hadn't picked up before this point, unsure I would get another chance to purchase them after entering The Citadel. With the final climb just ahead, I saw Sherma sitting next to the bench, slouched over, eyes closed, weary from the climb so far. I went to go grind out 60 rosaries to activate the bench for her.

After a quick trip to an earlier area where I could take out enemies quickly, I returned, fed the rosaries into the mechanism, and Sherma lit up with delight that her song had worked again. This time, I didn't feel like Sherma was being ungrateful or naïve. My friend Sherma's monotone song with its inviting simplicity did work. There was no way I was leaving her there with no bench to rest on. I pulled out my needle, Hornets weapon that doubles as a musical instrument, and played, and Sherma sang her song. I would never deter her from her path, I could only be there with her to sing along.

Thanks for reading, talk soon.

Playing Silksong? Have a favorite Silk Song? Either from the incredible Christopher Larkin soundtrack or performed by one of the bugs? Let’s talk all things Silksong Act 1 in the comments!

Leave a comment

"Love isn't something that we invented. It's observable, powerful... Maybe it means something more. Something we can't yet understand. Maybe it's some evidence, some artifact of a higher dimension that we can't consciously perceive."

-Dr. Brand, Interstellar

I often need to remind my dog that the social contract between man and his supposed best friend is that the dog lives a life of luxury, only ever knowing play time, food time, walk time, and sleep time while I take care of all the work-time and paying-for-everything-you-need time. In exchange, the dog cuddles with me or my wife on the couch while watching a movie, licks our faces when we get home from work, or other signs of affection. My dog has terrible credit when it comes to his end of the bargain.

Zuki is aloof, preferring to play by himself by throwing toys into the air and getting startled by the thud as they hit the floor. He'll take a bone under the bed to chew on it where he won't be bothered and can often be found on the 4th step in our house staring through the window at the top of our front door, silently judging everyone who walks by. If we ever approach him to rub his belly or give him a hug while he lays on our bed, he responds with a deep sigh for disrupting his luxurious rest.

What should probably come as no surprise to anyone with a dog, for all of Zuki's quirks, is he is a part of our family and we love him to death. His, as well as every other dog's greatest flaw, as depicted in the modern masterpiece, An Airport For Aliens Currently Run By Dogs developed by Strange Scaffold, is that they have no concept of financial responsibility. When a mass human extinction event leaves dogs the dominant species, they will run a series of inter-planetary airports and space travel will be completely free. All the dogs in the universe will take up various roles at shops, attractions, will innovate in science and art, but they will sell nothing. You can just go get a skateboard or a medical procedure completely free of charge. If you, as one of the last two remaining humans, try to ask about paying for your doctor visit, the Dogtor is extremely concerned for you. The doctor visit still happens, you get a skateboard, you can travel between planets to visit your long distance girlfriend, the only other human alive. The many worlds still turn, somehow, without the profit motive.

Krista is the other surviving human in Dog Airport game. An accomplished scientist, she is heading a mysterious project where her bosses and colleagues are all dogs that pay her in bones. Generally useless to humans when outside of the body. As she moves from planet to planet, we follow by deciphering a cryptic alien language to solve puzzles to eventually obtain plane tickets. All of these revolve around the various shops and dogs so commerce is at the forefront of the gameplay loop despite there being no profit incentive for the dogs. Each item you can obtain from the booths can be endlessly replicated simply be asking for another and giving the right item to the right dog will make them happy. Safety Dog is a personal favorite character of mine. He is there to protect and make sure no one gets hurt. When you accidentally obtain a real gun by asking for a souvenir, you can turn it in to Safety Dog who is happy to make the community safer. If you opt to tell Safety Dog about another sketchy dog, he politely tells you to mind your own business and come back if you have any dangerous items to turn in. His goal is to protect, not to get anyone in trouble.

The space exploration project Krista is working on continues to progress as we follow her from planet to planet. As the game goes, the long distance nature of our relationship sets in. A series of meetings and partings, none ever seeming long enough. Space travel being free has made their relationship much more manageable, however. In my own formerly long distance relationship (and my current long distance family), traveling to visit loved ones is an added financial responsibility. Without the financial strain, our player character can more easily see Krista as she pursues her passion in her field. Money not being a factor, Krista still follows that passion and eventually achieves massive success in her work. This is a common critique of any alternative economic system: without money, won't people just sit on their asses all day? Where's the incentive?

The incentive is this passion Krista represents, the incentive is giving my dog that life of luxury even when he doesn't always show affection, the incentive is seeing my long distance girlfriend, or my family. The incentive is love.

For our first date, my wife and I watched Interstellar through a video call from opposite ends of the country. It was our little wormhole connecting us across worlds. Every year on August 8th we watch it again and I think about how we feel the force of love as a tangible factor in our universe that we don't yet fully understand. It is exactly how I felt on long distance calls with the person who would become my wife when we'd stay up late and fall asleep on FaceTime. It's how I feel when my dog makes a certain face that just makes me want to hug him, it's how I feel when I see my family and friends back home and need to soak in every second.

There is a black hole at the center of Uranus. Krista is going to travel through it and for the first time in the game she will go somewhere we can't follow. "If we don't explode, I get to be part of changing the nature of reality itself," she assures us, reassuringly. The final frame of the game as the credits roll is from inside a plane, looking out the tiny plane windows at the launch site. A view I've grown very familiar with, save for the black hole. Being in a plane no longer means vacation or a simple break from work, it's my connection to the people I love, that tangible force we don't fully understand pulling me back and forth between my homes.

My dog has terrible credit. I don't trust that his food, walks, and a comfortable bed for him to sleep in all day while I'm at work will net me any sort of affection as the contract states. I think there were times in my life where mine wasn't so good either with my loved ones. The thing about this sort of credit is I don't have to care. There's no algorithm or government agency dictating the number of walks or access to my bed my dog gets. I get to decide I love my dog no matter what and all he has to do is be safe and healthy for me to be happy. Same with everyone else in my life.

Thank you for reading, let’s talk again soon.

Subscribe now

Some of the video games I analyze or discuss in this publication may have been provided for free for review or content creation purposes.

For business inquiries, please reach out to joshcvcontact@gmail.com. For all other inquiries I can be reached through Substack message.

I stood up. I didn't need to. The rug on which I sat was the TV viewing area, but I what I was seeing demanded ovation. Beings— animals? monsters?— flew across a celestial background, their mystery enticed my young mind, but the music told me everything. The drums, the quick heartbeat of the piano, followed by the most powerful chords I had heard from a guitar to date reassured my young heart I would unravel this mystery in time. That is when the song truly spoke to me. Not just because actual words entered the song, but on a deep, personal, six year old boy level. "I want to be the very best like no one ever was."

As part of the first generation of kids to be targeted by Pokémon's collectable creatures, we became the blueprint, and as games, toys, trading cards, cartoons, bed sets, gummy fruit snacks, cereals, fast food, all partnered with the exploding brand, it sunk deeper and deeper into the late 90's/early 2000's kid psyche. I would call it an obsession, a mania akin to The Beatlesmania era. The Beatles music may be timeless, but the members themselves could not remain The Beatles forever. The face of Pokémon, however, is a cartoon electric mouse who can be endlessly recreated generation after generation. Pikachu, and even Ash, the young protagonist of the Pokémon TV series, can remain the relatable 10-year-old for generations to come. With the help of video games to spark their imagination, players could live that dream of being Pokémon Masters. It was never enough for me. I would often feel frustrated by the impossibility of Pokémon in the real world. It felt so unfair that the coolest thing I had ever seen was just a show, a game, a toy, especially when those things, in my mind, promised me more. I could do these things. I could catch ‘em all, be the very best, be a Pokémon Master. I loved the games and all of Pokémon's associated products, but I wanted more. I competed in tournaments as I got older, and became a professional shiny hunter on Twitch for a time, all in search of what it meant to be a real Pokémon Master.

In 2016 I learned I wasn't alone in this feeling. Pokémon Go released and Pokémania was well and truly back. At least for a time. This was yet another step in the promise of Pokémon, kids and adults could finally step out into the real world to become Pokémon trainers. This was the dream realized. At least for a time.

Arceus Gives His Strongest Soldiers His Toughest Challenges

I downloaded Pokemon Go immediately when it came out. I went out with my roommate at the time and his dog and we walked down to the beach in Pacifica, California. I chose my Squirtle, as I had when I was first given the choice all those years ago, and we set out. All of my friends jumped in and we were meeting up regularly to play.

In July of that same year, someone from my hometown set up a Facebook event for their friends to play while on a bar crawl in San Francisco. This exploded into thousands of attendees, myself and my friends included. My friends and I ended the night in Dolores Park where a hundred or so others gathered to continue the celebration. We danced to music from a portable speaker, met new friends, laughed, and continued to play Pokémon Go until the morning hours. We went home high on the communal experience the game gave us.

A couple years later after a shift at the restaurant where I worked in San Francisco, my coworkers and I walked over to the bar next door as we usually did. I pulled out my phone while we waited for drinks and opened up Pokémon Go and immediately heard someone say, "I thought that was just a fad." I'm still unreasonably furious about this comment and feel exactly the same now as what I told them then. "Ok it was very popular for a moment in time, I guess everyone should stop doing it forever now that it isn't. Is that really how you think things work? Did you think about how stupid you sound at all before you opened your mouth?" I didn't say that last part but I think I got the point across. What was really happening here though was something deeper in me. Something that made me so quick to go to bat for Pokémon.

I had spent nearly 20 years at that point as a dedicated Pokémon fan. I played every game, watched every episode (yes, every episode all the way to the end of Ash's run), competed in Pokémon's official competitive circuit, and had been making a decent portion of my income off streaming shiny hunting on Twitch while bartending on the weekends. Pokémon was my life, but barely getting by in a small apartment in the Bay Area, I didn't feel like the very best like no one ever was. I continued to relate to Ash Ketchum, who time and again made it to the Pokémon League tournament only to lose. It became something of a joke online that Ash has never actually won by the end of each season, but to me, this was what kept him relatable.

This assessment of Ash ignores the fact he's saved the world multiple times, discovered and even captured some of the world's rarest Pokémon, and would do literally anything for his friends.

In an interview with Kotaku about Ash's journey to commemorate the end of his run in the anime, Josh Vasquez (me, that's me), reflects on his favorite Ash moment. Staff writer, Kenneth Shepard writes:

Younger fans often see Ash as a cool adventurer who gets to go on all these incredible journeys around the Pokémon world, or you might view him as an overly optimistic kid with no real flaws, but for adult fans like streamer Josh Vasquez, his selfless optimism and heroics have taken on new, greater meaning. In the X and Y season, there’s an episode called “Lumiose City Pursuit!” in which Ash and Pikachu are trying to subdue an enraged Garchomp, and in the struggle, the little yellow guy is knocked off the Lumiose Tower (think Pokémon’s equivalent of the Eiffel Tower in Paris), and Ash jumps from this height to save his friend.

“[There was] no hesitation,” Vasquez said. “He is of course saved but when he jumped, he didn’t know he would be. He jumped to save his friend thinking he would likely die. Ash has done things like that before but I think at the time being a little older it really hit. I was living on my own and moved to a new state and was still getting used to being away from friends and family. So I think seeing that show of love and friendship really hit home for me in the moment.”

This was the third time I was interviewed as a content creator for a publication. Every day I went live on Twitch and people showed up to watch me, to chat, to meet people with their interests. I'd been recognized by publications as notable enough to interview or write about and had videos that reached millions of views. I was invited to product launch parties in the Bay Area, and given free video games to play on stream. At the time, it was never enough for me. Chat was slow today, people weren't engaged enough, how do I do more? Viewership was low, never playing that game again, gotta rethink the plan for this week. Lots of chat activity and viewership today, how do I capitalize? Who should I collaborate with? Who shouldn't I collaborate with? "Bigger" is a goal that endlessly repeats itself.

The Moving Goal Post of Catching ‘Em All

Boiling down the Pokémon games to complicated rock, paper, scissors with a big checklist is, honestly, fair. The Pokedex, a digital checklist of Pokémon, is kind of the secret to the whole operation. Completing tasks triggers a dopamine response, and seeing that list fill up is incredibly rewarding. In Red and Blue, each version had different Pokémon so you were encouraged to meet people and trade. That tradition has held from that first generation all the way to today where that initial 151 Pokémon checklist is now over 1,000 unique(ish) creatures. Some Pokémon have very specific requirements for how to obtain or how to evolve, or are locked by specific events. If you do manage to complete a particular game's Pokedex, congratulations! You're awarded with the Shiny Charm, which slightly increases your chance of encountering a rare color variation of a Pokémon, starting the collection challenge over from zero.

There is an easy solution to obtaining the exclusive Pokémon from each game, of course: buy both games. Pokémon and Nintendo have even created convenient dual packs with the release of each new generation for people who just want to pay the extra money and skip all the social stuff. The same is most certainly true, and to a much greater and more sinister extent, in Pokémon Go.

As the mobile game has progressed, and its developer, Niantic, has kept up a steady drip feed of new content and Pokémon, completing lists has become a core part of the game's loop. There are now special events on a weekly basis and everything you can possibly think of in the game has a free and paid version.

Standard "battle pass" style monthly rewards have players completing tasks to progress on the track, collecting more and more rewards as they go. For $7.99 you get TWO rewards for each level of progress, and those paid rewards are typically more valuable. There are other premium packages for this same product that allow you to automatically complete 10 levels, in case you weren't planning to actually play as much and just wanted to pay for all of the rewards.

The worst of the dual free-to-play and paid model however is in the rollout of new Pokémon. The days of Pokémon simply being released into the game are all but extinct. There was even a time when an entire generation of Pokémon would be announced and the majority of that generation would release all at once. Now it is individual Pokémon by individual Pokémon, and to get players to play like their lives depend on it when they release, they are limited to the event associated with their release. As if these limitations weren’t enough, new Pokemon will sometimes be released exclusively in raids or eggs, two features that require even more hoops to jump through, and can be made easier by purchasing certain items. Hope you didn't have other plans that weekend.

Every new event comes with a new "Collection Challenge" as well effectively restarting your list with Pokémon you've likely already caught. The featured Pokémon of an event will all be in a nice new list that rewards a special medal when found during the time period. In the most recent "Water Festival" event, three of the Pokémon are found exclusively in rare raids or are guaranteed to players who pay for the upgrade ticket for the event.

When Niantic struck gold in 2016 with Pokémon Go it was unexpected. For a while, players could barely access the game because of server overload. These weren’t just the lifelong Pokémon fans looking to live out the dream of real world Pokémon. This was a generation of adults who were sold the idea of being the very best in 1998, their dormant yearning set off like the damn Winter Soldier when the opportunity finally arrived. With it came an explosion of revenue, an initial influx of players Niantic would never see again. "Bigger" is a goal that endlessly repeats itself, and they would have to extract more and more from the biggest Pokémon fans who would stick around well after the “fad” died out.

Niantic recently broke itself up into two divisions, one focusing on their games like Pokémon Go, the other focused on the AR technology used within the games. The games portion was promptly sold off for $3.5 billion to Scopely, developer of monetization powerhouses like Monopoly Go, Marvel Strike Force, and the astoundingly original "Stumble Guys." Since the announcement of the proposed acquisition and the closing of the deal in May of this year, Niantic began testing many of these new monetization practices, the battle pass being the most notable. Everywhere you look in Pokémon Go now there are opportunities to pay for a better experience. Faster ways to complete those lists, easier ways to reach Pokémon that would usually require meeting up with people or traveling. Don't forget, time is always running out.

More Pokémon, more money, more viewers, readers, bigger house, better TV, better job, be the best. Like no one ever was. Everyone looking for that one single spot at all times turns everyone into the enemy. Everyone wants to be Ash Ketchum striving to be the Pokémon Master, but I watched the entire series and you probably didn't so listen up. Ash admits after finally accomplishing his dream to his biggest rival that he doesn't feel any different after winning. He had reached his goals long ago in the friends he made, the people he helped, and exploring the beautiful world around him. He goes off on one last adventure with Pikachu with no goals in mind and along the way, he encounters several Pokémon who need his help. He just helps without question or hesitation as he often would for his close friends, extending that care and love to everyone. He is rewarded by the legendary Pokémon, Latias, who observes his efforts like a benevolent god. This is the end of Ash's story, not becoming the very best, but learning he was always good enough.

Thank you for reading, let’s talk again soon.

Subscribe now

In an interview with Keza MacDonald for Eurogamer in promotion for the first Souls game Demon’s Souls, Miyazaki says of his multiplayer mechanic:

“The origin of that idea is actually due to a personal experience where a car suddenly stopped on a hillside after some heavy snow and started to slip," says Miyazaki. "The car following me also got stuck, and then the one behind it spontaneously bumped into it and started pushing it up the hill... That's it! That's how everyone can get home! Then it was my turn and everyone started pushing my car up the hill, and I managed to get home safely.

“But I couldn't stop the car to say thanks to the people who gave me a shove. I'd have just got stuck again if I'd stopped. On the way back home I wondered whether the last person in the line had made it home, and thought that I would probably never meet the people who had helped me. I thought that maybe if we'd met in another place we'd become friends, or maybe we'd just fight...

"You could probably call it a connection of mutual assistance between transient people. Oddly, that incident will probably linger in my heart for a long time. Simply because it's fleeting, I think it stays with you a lot longer…”

This style of multiplayer is largely criticized even among die hard FromSoftware fans. It’s cumbersome, annoying to coordinate with friends, and it costs an in game consumable. If you and a friend keep dying to a boss, you may have to grind out more of these items before you can play together again. Yet, according to Miyazaki’s anecdote, this is precisely the point. These games are not meant to be played as multiplayer. These moments are supposed to be anonymous, transient encounters in which one person helps another and they part ways. He implies this is even the reason for the game’s difficulty: to encourage cooperation.

The multiplayer experiment culminates now in Elden Ring Nightreign, a fast paced, multiplayer first, cooperative experience with a closing deadly storm ala Fortnite. FromSoftware veteran, Junya Ishizaki, takes the helm for the first time, and is determined to change the minds of Soulslike fans who’ve shunned the multiplayer experience within the studio’s games. Now, you have no choice.

Anatomy of the Night(reign)

To begin with, and to the further disappointment of Souls fans, you choose your character. Gone are the personal builds players might be used to from the studio where they can tweak and perfect every stat of their character to their desired style of play. The game is fine tuned to most any grouping of 3 of the 8 available “Nightfarers.” These make up some of your classic Dark Souls/Elden Ring builds. The general strength character, the mage who attacks from afar with spells, the quick and nimble rogue type, and of course the parry sicko for the Sekiro heads out there (me).

My mains were these last two. The katana wielding Executor with a special block and parry mechanic that charges his sword for a powerful strike drew me in with its satisfying sword clangs. I’ve always said a good parry mechanic is dependent on its sound design and Nightreign delivers as swords meet, swipe, and deflect.

The Duchess is similarly dexterous but with a moveset all her own. She’s fast and has a passive ability that allows her to dodge in and out of close range combat with ease. Her swift dagger attacks allow for running in close, racking up damage, triggering her special ability that doubles that damage, then popping out of harms way. Since she also has decent stats for use of spells, she can also fire off attacks when at range, waiting for her next opportunity to strike from close quarters.

After choosing your character, and your two teammates choose theirs, its off to the races. In general, each run takes place over three day and night cycles. During the day, you defeat enemies and roaming bosses to collect resources to power up your character to defeat the big boss that spawns as night falls. Once that boss is defeated, repeat that cycle for day 2, then fight the ultimate day 3 boss to complete the run. During each day, a deadly storm closes in periodically, shrinking the playing field until ushering your party into the next boss. Simple enough, right?

Night One

As we fly in for day one, the Duchess player pings a nearby boss for us to take down right away. Nightreign favors quick, decisive thinking and having someone to regularly point out your teams’s next stop is an invaluable role.

We quickly dispatch a group of enemies and head under the ruins to fight the Fire Monk and collect some rewards before hurriedly running to the next ping, a Church of Marika which will grant us additional healing items.

The Duchess is established as the guide of our party. I’ve chosen the parry-happy Executor, and our third member was the mage class, Recluse.

We’re progressing nicely, moving from boss to boss with ease during the early moments. This sense of security would ultimately lead to tragedy.

The first major boss is the Centipede Demon, an amalgamation of monstrous limbs and body parts that spews fire from a gaping maw on its belly. It leaps high into the air and crashes down with force to knock back even the tankiest Raider. Recluse, who’s been slinging spells from afar, is caught in the jump and falls.

When an ally is downed, their team can revive them in a unique way: attacking their bodies as they crawl around on the ground near death.

In an attempt to revive the fallen Recluse and dish out major damage, I activated my ultimate ability. Each character has their own ultimate ability or “Ultimate Art” that can be activated after being sufficiently charged. With the press of a button my Executor doubles over on all fours and transforms into a massive beast. My size now rivals that of the Centipede Demon and the force of my transformation alone while in the vicinity of my downed teammate was enough to revive them. I have a limited time in my new form so I immediately move to the Demon, swiping with long claw attacks and finishing with a piercing blow that left our foe vulnerable to a critical strike by Duchess.

The demon was defeated and Night One had been won. We had so far been nearly unstoppable, other than the one minor setback with Recluse. Even so, we picked up a strong victory with Duchess, our leader, dealing the final blow.

Night Two

Having picked up some solid upgrades from the demon, we faced the second day with confidence. We do a classic run through of a castle which features several Crucible Knights that each give powerful rewards and upgrades. Our characters get stronger and stronger.

During this run, we get caught up in a tricky situation at the top of the castle. There are several giants who hurl magic pots from a distance that cover the ground in a magical flame that damages the player. They can be incredibly hard to avoid as taking out one requires being in the line of fire for another. The giants themselves are easy to defeat once you get there but in the fight, all of us are downed and require reviving.

If you’re unable to be revived in a certain amount of time, you respawn having lost a level, lowering your overall health and stats. These levels are precious as you make your way to Night Three and should be protected at all costs. Recluse and I had both lost levels to the Giants and their frustrating magic pots.

We defeated the giants but we considered that a loss with how uncoordinated we were. Not at all like the way we defeated the Centipede Demon on the previous Night. We needed a big win, so we headed below the castle. What waited there was much worse.

The night is closing in and we stare down the figure at the other end of the room. He’s heavily armored with a long cape and a sword big enough to hack through even my Executor’s beastial state.

The Bell Bearing Hunter is infamously powerful in Nightreign. It’s debated if it is ever worth it to go toe to toe with him on any run, at any level. His attacks are wild and can be unpredictable. He controls his massive sword with a red telepathy, allowing him to sling it across the battlefield to far away opponents, each hit dealing massive damage.

As an Executor, specializing in parrying, I would be tasked with holding the Hunter’s attention. A tall order, but it’s what you sign up for in this role.

My parry timing, if I may say, is quite good. Parries only work when the player hits the block button at the exact right moment, and Nightreign’s timing window is a little more forgiving than Sekiro or Lies of P, two games I love and have a lot of practice in, so I’m confident in my ability to pull it off. This was a special case.

The Hunter’s sword flies through the air at me back and forth from the left and right, and in the small battlefield under the castle, it disappears under the floor and through pillars scattered around the room. I can’t see the attacks coming. I block as best I can but my character’s stamina can’t keep up with the barrage of attacks. I fall, I’m revived, I fall again, revived again. I fall again but this time I’m not revived.

The deadly storm closes in to our location and my teammates take off running, leaving me to lose a level. When I respawn I immediately start running as the storm is close by. I see Recluse running ahead of me so I follow. But where is Duchess? There are no pings on the map advising our next location.

I look at the party and see Duchess is gone. The player disconnected, convinced after our failures that we would not make it through the nights to come. Recluse and I were left to take on the final two bosses alone.

Or so we thought.

Then There Were Two

Recluse and I ran from the storm until we were safe, frantically collecting as many runes as we could to regain the levels we’d lost. We would need them if we were going to defeat the final bosses, especially with only two players.

Nightreign is balanced so that each boss is sufficiently challenging for a 3 person team. Most runs end in failure even with a full party. We had our work cut out for us.

We were relegated to the small remaining area of the map, taking down bosses we hadn’t come across yet, not finding much of use other than runes to level up with. But something was different.

Duchess was a good leader, always pinging, deciding where to go next to optimize our time and effort to get the best loot possible. It can be necessary to run from place to place with little time between to think. But it is also hectic, stressful, and impersonal. Follow the path, grab the best loot, move on.

Since Duchess left, things were more calm. Recluse and I took time to explore all of the loot in an area, really inspect it. I could ping certain items for them I thought they might find useful and they even dropped a talisman they had equipped as it would have really helped my character by improving my stamina. Recluse and I became a real team then. This dynamic, the more personal, collaborative dynamic, actually made it seem like we had a chance!

This was it. We weren’t as prepared as we might have hoped but we had powerful weapons and items and were ready for the Night Two boss. The minions spawned on the battle field. The humanoid beasts with their electric powered weapons usually meant a dragon was coming as our boss. Not ideal. We dealt with the minions swiftly and waited for the dragon.

And waited.

And waited.

Recluse and I were perplexed. The boss didn’t spawn. We ran from end to end of the battlefield, surrounded on all sides by that deadly storm. The boss wouldn’t trigger, nothing we did worked. We met again in the middle and Recluse bowed. I bowed in return. It was a great run.

We had many setbacks and many triumphs. We overcame the odds, and were ready to face the Night as a team. We had fun. What more could we ask for.

The Night Two boss, it seamed, would not test our strength as a duo. Whether out of mercy or fear we’ll never know, but for now there was one thing left to do. We finished our bows and shows of respect and walked together into that deadly Night rain. Slowly it ate away at our health until we were both downed. With no one else to revive us we perished, ending the run for good.

The Heart of the Night(reign)

There are players currently in Nightreign who will disconnect the moment they see you aren’t running the most optimal build for your chosen character, preferring not to waste their time with players who aren’t determined to win at all costs. If you fall too many times, take too long to choose your loot, aren’t timing your special abilities optimally, they might just disconnect.

There are players who will run into the storm to revive you even if it means dying themselves. They’ll share their loot with you if they find something that works best for your build, or run back to guide you back to the party if you’re lost. I’ve encountered them both and everything in between during my time with the game.

It made me think about the kind of player I am, the kind I aspire to be. So I’ll linger a little longer to let a player catch up, carry items that most see as useless if I think I can use it to help someone, and always prioritize reviving the team. It’s hard enough out here, we should be helping each other.

In that same interview from 2010, Miyazaki continues about multiplayer:

"It's a simple concept. But you don't know whom you will meet. Maybe the next person will be an enemy. That kind of encounter forms part of the larger storyline. There are constant surprises...

“Because Demon's Souls is a game with a lot of dying in it, surely that kind of fleeting cooperation should come out of all the death - 'We're all dead, so let's help each other out'," suggests Miyazaki.

Subscribe

Have you been playing Elden Ring Nightreign? How have you been playing and have any interesting stories emerged in your runs?

Comment

Nino Koot was in the middle of a boss run in Maplestory when I called, the free to play MMO which he plays on a private server.

"Level 151, baby," he said.

"I mean, it sounds high. I don't know enough about the game," I replied.

"Max level is 200 so it's pretty high," he reassured me. "It's very nostalgic for me... I actually met someone in real life over this game."

"Wow. You're making friends all over the internet," I said, remembering how we met on Twitch in 2017.

Koot, along with bandmate Max Wensveen had just released their sophomore record as Endless Strafford. (i hope that) things just get better follows up their 2022 debut i got you, which garnered over 300,000 plays on Spotify alone. The recording process for the first album was a dream scenario for a debut.

"We rented a cabin in Germany. For four days straight we just made the first album. It was amazing," Koot said of the process and the secluded Airbnb they used to write and record. "The only thing that was really close was the house of the Airbnb owner, but they just let us do our thing. We barely saw them until the last night when we sent them a message through the Airbnb app, 'Hey the album is finished, do you want to listen to it?' He brought some beers and he just came over. He was very enthusiastic as well because we were the first ones to actually record music there."

The process for their follow up was comparatively methodical. Having a better idea of who they were as a band, and goals for how they wanted to push themselves, Koot and Wensveen followed their inspirations and wrote the album over time. The result is a thoughtful, cohesive piece of art that builds and loops on itself to create a melancholic sense of movement, like walking in place. At just under 13 minutes in total, (i hope that) things just get better demands to be listened to in full to feel the entirety of its message. By the end, you'll likely be inclined to start the loop again. Koot reflects with me on the journey to creating the new record, the heartache that inspired it, and learning to process the pain and move forward. The answer, often, was with the help of others.

(i hope that) things just get better Review

An intimate conversation underscores the melancholy acoustic guitar. It’s nearly indecipherable, but the energy is unmistakable as collaborative creativity, which at its core is the act of support. These are the opening seconds of (i hope that) things just get better, a constantly forward-moving dash through the aches and pains of love lost, as well as the hopeful, even funny pieces that make up the complex emotions of the end of one thing, and the creation of the next.

The low guitar riff that marches through “i might have anxiety” serves as the musical through line throughout the album, beginning a rhythmic charge as if at any moment the tempo could speed up and out of control. The pace remains, however, and that sense of forward motion continues into “marie” as we step onto trains and ride away, leaving the past behind.

This road forward comes with realizations and even funny scenarios as “lose it” triumphantly celebrates a relationship ending before having to explain that the cologne she liked was a gift from an ex. The silver lining thinking continues into the chorus, “I’m only finding myself for me to lose it, like I’m doing fine but I’m not.” The album’s title itself reflects this duality, the confident proclamation that things just get better versus the mere hope that they will.

This concept continues along with our musical through line in a broken, distorted loop over “(i know that not) everything seems perfect” and finally into the melody of “ghost.” Everything coalesces here as we are brought from memory to, “now you are just a ghost that’s haunting me.”

(i hope that) things just get better is a quick journey. For 12 minutes you can fall into its loss, it’s uncertainty, and its hopefulness. At the end, you’ll hear it again. It’s just a glimpse, but still abundantly clear. The unmistakable laughter of a conversation between friends which at its core is the act of support that bookends any tough journey.

"The day the album released I had an album release party at my place. I made a video with, like videos and photos with, like memories of Max and I, and with friends," Koot said. "We sat there and just listened to the album together. One of my best friends came over after the album was done and she started hugging me and crying and was like, 'I'm so proud of you.'"

I got the sense during our conversation that Koot, while writing the personal lyrics of his songs from a specific experience, did not consciously include the deep community of support he has surrounding him. That this element of his personal life is so obviously present in the music is a testament then to how ingrained it is in the band’s DNA. The two spoken word tracks on (i hope that) things just get better are clips from real voice memos sent to Koot by a close friend where Koot says they often hold deep, personal conversations. She agreed to lend the clips to the project, injecting their genuine friendship directly into the album. We even had to pause for a moment when Koot received a text from his mother.

"She's in the store right now. She was going to grab something for me so I have to respond for a second," Koot said, laughing.

Comradery peppered our conversation as it does the album. From friends made playing Maplestory, an Airbnb host excited for the young musicians, an emotional album release party, and of course the friendship that is Endless Strafford, Max and Nino.

"I don't have anyone else in my life where I'm so comfortable with making music. With Max I can give him everything and he's always so enthusiastic about my stuff," Koot said. "It really bonded us... The writing process was very emotional for me. It just created another level of bromance."

(i hope that) things just get better by Endless Strafford is streaming now on all digital platforms. Nino Koot is the band’s lead vocalist and lyricist alongside guitarist and composer Max Wensveen.

Leave a comment

Subscribe now

Share

Review: DELTARUNE CHAPTERS 3 + 4 ONLY. Do NOT ask about 1 + 2, I don't remember!

Played On: Nintendo Switch OLED as the artist intended (How do you say OLED out loud? Please leave a comment.)

Leave a comment

Difficulty: There are no options, making it a Soulslike

Finished: Impossible at this time as only 4 chapters are available.

Spoilers: This review has been written according to the Joshcv A.I.R.M.A.P. Style Guide and as such necessarily includes discussions of the end of the game, a minimum of 3 personal anecdotes, one of which is about a time I cried, all set along the backdrop of rising authoritarianism and/or fascism.

Rating on the A.I.R.M.A.P Scale: 3 and 4 out of 7

In 2016, retired internet theater kid Matpat gifted a copy of Undertale to Pope Francis. Since, like me, Matpat doesn’t think about games like a normal human person, I assume he came to the same conclusion I did about Undertale’s view of morality. It coincides neatly with Catholicism: do good, be rewarded. Do bad, face eternal damnation. Realize you made a mistake and try to start the game over, a demonic flower reassures you your actions have been remembered and there’s nothing you can do to erase your sins.

If you’re unfamiliar, Undertale has several endings, the “true” of which is locked behind cleverly avoiding all combat for the entire game. Even reloading an old save after killing an enemy will lock you out of the true ending as the game, by way of multiversal god-being Flowey, remembers what you did in the alternate timeline before resetting.

There are at least two such beings (not including the player character) who will pass judgement on the player based on their actions in Undertale. The appropriate ending is awarded based on if they spared or killed the innocent monsters within. This is the central conceit of Undertale which makes the proud proclamation of Deltarune’s single ending so notable. We can extrapolate that there is meaning to this piece of marketing copy based on the opposites prevalence to the predecessor. The twist was more than just a subversion of turn based RPG tropes, it was a morality system either rewarding or punishing the player by the end. Every combat encounter in Undertale can be completed through specific actions that appease your opponent, convincing them they're not in danger. This mechanic persists in Deltarune, but this time we know there is no “true” ending to strive for. The outcome will be the same whether we kill or spare the "enemies" we meet along the way.

You can play through episodes 1 and 2 of Deltarune for free and now 3 and 4 as the first half of the overall story. Having played through the available chapters, I find myself torn between two ideas:

1. If we know there is only one ending, then our actions are truly our own. We are not kind simply for the hope of some reward, but for the sake of kindness. Likewise, cruelty becomes more sinister as there is no different end to attempt to justify the means.

2. A preordained fate or divine plan removes agency, especially if someone knows their fate. Each act becomes an attempt to subvert that fate only to find that, too has been written.

These were my thoughts before the release of chapters 3 and 4. I was shocked to find that these new additions would dive into the topic head on and answer my ultimate question: who is God in Deltarune?

There Are No Reflections In TV Static

From the beginning, Deltarune sets itself apart from its predecessor. The player is asked to enter their name for the main character. The game quickly destroys the words and informs you this is not your story, but the story of Kris. Kris' fate is already decided. We meet Susie at school, a tough bully type who's simultaneously picked on and hated by everyone. Her teachers have no faith in her and the only one who ever gives her any kind of positive attention is Toriel, Kris' mom. Anyway, one thing leads to another and Kris and Susie get pulled through a portal to the Dark World. School kid stuff. There, they meet Ralsei, a mysterious Dark World prince with magic powers who tells them about the prophecy. That the three of them were meant to save the world. Chapters 1 and 2 happen, Kris might be evil at the end or something and now finally we have chapters 3 and 4.

Chapter 3 smash cuts right into the action in a somewhat disorienting way. Most of the Dark World tone and style of the first two chapters is absent, replaced with a live TV set. I mean that in every way it can be interpreted. Kris, Susie, and Ralsei are on a TV set for the filming of a live game show complete with an audience AND there is a CRT box TV set that is alive and the host of the show. The entire chapter takes place here as Tenna, the live TV, hosts us through several physical challenges, quizzes, and performances in an attempt to keep the show going. Forever.

Toby Fox, the lead developer, returns his signature humor and style to these new chapters, solidifying his place as one of the gaming industries most unique voices. As a writer, developer, and composer, Fox belongs in the greater conversation of video game auteurs. As always, the turn based combat offers immense variety, each "enemy" having their own unique moves to be dodged and puzzles for completing combat without doing any damage (assuming you aren't just fighting your way through, which is also an option). Each enemy talks through encounters as well, giving hints to their personalities and how best to show them kindness or otherwise ease their fear around you. When it comes to our search for Deltarune’s God, Toby Fox seems like a strong place to start as the actual creator of the world. He’s on the list.

Between challenge rounds, we explore the green room, and try to figure out Tenna's whole deal while meeting some of his reluctant staff. Tenna eventually reminisces about how nice it was back when Kris and his brother and mom would all sit around him to watch TV together and how they no longer do. Susie vows to ask around town when they get back to the light world to see if anyone wants a CRT. Deltarune itself having an aspect ratio of 4:3, we know as the player the importance of the TV. Tenna's grip on the past, however does put him at odds with his staff, and they all eventually turn on him. His leadership starts to look more and more dictatorial, keeping them there against their will. Even his most trusted partner, Mike, the show's producer who we never actually get to see, leaves him at the end of the chapter. This is when Tenna truly realizes the error of his ways. If even Mike would leave him, something must be wrong. Mike is a trusted friend and partner, but friendship goes both ways. Trust is earned, and friendships can be lost.

Chapter 3 ends when we meet The Knight, a shadow creature who created the fountain to this Dark World, and threatens to destroy it and the world of light. If The Knight has the power to destroy both worlds, could this be the God we’re looking for?

Tenna, having lost his best friend, Mike, helps the party in the end and joins their community of spared Dark World inhabitants. He reveals he was tasked with holding them off and hiding Toriel from them by The Knight who offered to return him to the glory days of when Kris’ family would watch TV together. Tenna, in the end, just wanted to be useful.

The Dark Has Never Been Darker with OLED!

I didn't expect the next chapter to confirm my suspicions about morality in Deltarune vs Undertale so exactly. Chapter 4 begins back in the Light World with Toriel taking Kris and Susie to church where she is a regular member. She leads the choir there and has friends she socializes with after the service. Susie isn’t entirely pleased to be going to church, but goes along out of respect for Toriel.

I have fond memories of going to church as a kid. Every single one of them had to do with trying not to laugh with my friends despite the divine power of the church to make everything 100 times funnier (approximately). Lord forbid someone's shoe make a fart sound, by accident or on purpose. The true test of strength for a group of 10 year old boys. I once brought a pen with me in my pocket and while twirling and flipping it around to entertain myself, I accidentally flung it straight into my friend's face. I think this is tied for the hardest I've ever laughed in my life to this day. So when Susie asks Kris if they have anything in their pocket to do during the service, I felt that.

Faith and fate drive the three heroes through the latest chapter, finding in the new Dark World stained glass stations telling the prophecy which they have been written into as the heroes. They find this prophecy has predicted everything they've already done so far, and Ralsei has studied the entire thing to the end. Ralsei knows what will happen, and becomes increasingly nervous as they progress, afraid of what will happen when his friends see how the story ends. When this is revealed, Susie tells him she doesn't care what happens as long as they're all together. They both decide, in their own ways, they will try to defy fate. Ralsei believes in the prophecy, but hopes fate can be changed. Susie doesn't believe in it at all, saying it would never happen because of their friendship.

Kris seems more torn on his faith. I thought this story wasn't supposed to be about me, TOBY!

After the service at the beginning of the chapter, you can speak to the various churchgoers. One of them will tell you they're not too religious, "but I just, like, love coming here." The churchgoer loves the sense of community it provides, a togetherness that all of us need in one way or another. Is faith just the organized religions as we know them? Can faith, or a type of faith, exist in your TV, in a cyber's world, in our dreams? Or is this just worship?

Deltarune posits that these things become true faith when they are shared. When Kris and their family gather around the TV together, when dreams are shared and supported, when the community meets on Sunday. When people come together, maybe they can even defy a strongly held conviction. God, then becomes an even blurrier figure in these scenarios. Each chapter so far has had a central “villain” that represented one of these things: a TV, the internet, a literal kingdom of cards. Each of these took on tyrannical roles in their respective chapters, corrupted by The Knight and his false promises to them. Tenna, King, and Queen all come to realize The Knight is not the God they were searching for, and none of them would be the God they hoped.

Chapter 4 ends with a boss fight against a gargantuan figure, the Titan, an unfeeling, consciousless being created only to destroy. Through great effort, and the help of some friends, the team subdues the monster and the end of the prophecy is revealed to Susie. What she sees upsets her to the point of shattering the stained glass it’s written on. We never get to see it, only her bloodied hand in the aftermath. Ralsei finally admits his fear about the prophecy, that holding it in and being the only one who knows has taken its toll. Susie reassures him that as long as they’re all together, they’ll never let the horrible end of the prophecy come to pass.

Help, I Can’t See Anything Without My Xreal AR Glasses

Through playing, I found not attacking enemies to be incredibly easy. I don’t even consider the option of fighting when playing Undertale or Deltarune. It feels like that’s just how the games are meant to be played. There are times in Deltarune, however, when you have no option but to fight, like the Titan boss at the end of chapter 4. The black and white morality of Undertale isn’t exactly present in Deltarune. There are two sides even to Kris, the player character. Kind and cruel.

I was left with no answers to my question. There would be 3 more chapters where I assumed I would learn more, but just as I was going to bed the night I had finished and allowed myself to look up what people were saying about the game, I saw a tweet from Toby Fox. He advised to reload your last save after completing the game one more time. Surely one little scene hidden in a secret area wouldn’t be what I was looking for. Right?

In that secret area after the chapter has ended, we finally meet Mike, Tenna's most trusted friend and producer. We find out that Mike is not Mike at all, but 3 members of Tenna's staff all pretending to be Mike because they kept hearing about how great this Mike guy was. None of them know if there ever really was a Mike to begin with or how the "idea" of Mike even started. For all they know, there was never a Mike and they were the only Mikes there ever were, carrying out the actions and duties of the idea that is "Mike."

Tell me if this sounds familiar: You gain a new interest in something so you start to research how to get into it. Let's say its filmmaking. You find an article or maybe a YouTube video titled something along the lines of, "How to start making films: BEGINNER FRIENDLY" and not one of those articles or videos says anything about obtaining a camera, what kind of shots you can set up and how they are typically used, or asking your friends to be in your films. What they typically will say is, "Hey, you gotta just do it man. Come on what are you so afraid of anyway? You'll regret not doing it. You just have to stop thinking about it so much and just start." That's what I'm trying to do, dick, and you're not helping at all.

I've found a similar thing happens when I've tried to break into a particular industry. These “BEGINNER FRIENDLY” articles usually start with, "so you've just obtained an expensive 4 year degree, completed several internships, met the mayor of Hollywood, and are looking to break into the film industry. Here's how!" Thanks! I now work in finance!

Practical advice seemed hard to come by and it always frustrated me (often into doing nothing) how a lot of tips tend to begin somewhere in the middle with nothing concrete for me to do right then and there. When I wrote my piece about learning to write on the bus, my intention was to make the first and most important step— actually sitting down to write— seem more manageable for people with busy schedules. Part of this was the acceptance and awareness that I had been making excuses for a long time to avoid putting in the work. I also had to accept and forgive myself when I could only write once or twice a week. If you read my previous piece and are at a place where you've sat down to write, congratulations! This took me almost 20 years to start doing, so your accomplishment deserves recognition. Now is when the work and fun begin.

This is part 2 of The Roadmap! Before continuing, I’d recommend reading part 1 here:

I'm sitting down with a lavender scented candle and the Elden Ring Nightreign Deluxe Edition mini soundtrack. Now what?

The short answer is that now you write but as I explained earlier this is bad, vague, obvious advice useful to no one. I mentioned briefly in my previous piece that I would watch an episode of TV or play an hour of a video game to get myself started so at the very least I could write about that. Write about everything that comes to mind with no regard for form, structure, punctuation, grammar, words being "real." I'm being serious here (see my Sabrina Carpenter piece). I often found myself getting hung up on what other people would think of my writing, how it would be critiqued, whether or not it was cringe. With these write ups, it didn't matter! No one would ever see them and they remain saved in a special folder where they will, in their original forms, never be seen by anyone! Some bigger ideas started to come out of these free writes over time so I'd take the idea and craft it into something more presentable, but the original remains locked away. This is your most private safe space to simply play. Bonus points for not deleting anything even if you make a mistake. Just keep going. If you're handwriting, don’t cross anything out.

You may not even need to read a chapter, watch an episode, or play a game. You might just have an emotion to journal out. There are really no rules here other than that words are making it to paper or screen. Use whatever you need to to find them. Hell, ask me for a writing prompt, I'll come up with one for you in the comments. The first step to becoming a better writer is to be a writer to begin with, and that doesn't happen until you're putting your own words down. Do so by any means necessary.

Ask me for a writing prompt in the comments, specifying fiction or nonfiction, and I’ll give you one! You don’t even have to share what you wrote, just write!

Leave a comment

I've been writing about Andor every week and all I got were recaps of each episode of Andor and zero original thoughts. Now what?

You've had zero original thoughts? None? Why do you think that? Who put that in your head? The first person who came to mind when I asked that question, maybe? Who are they to you? Why do you care so much about what they think?

It's possible I haven't been writing long enough to experience writer's block, but it's equally possible1 I've figured out a solution to it. If you're just starting out it may not even technically be considered "writers block" but simply not knowing what to write about. I would argue that if you didn't have something to write about, you wouldn't feel drawn to writing. My hang up in this regard was not that I didn't know what to write, but I didn't want to write the thing I wanted to communicate. I was afraid of the emotion, the conversation, or the answers I might find by asking hard questions. I say this with the full understanding that drawing from that deep emotion in yourself takes work, reflection, awareness, emotional and mental growth. It's not easy, but look back at all your free writes. You're a writer now, my friend. With a backlog of work written with the express purpose of never being seen by anyone unless you decide you really want to share it. Let it out.

I've written a ton of stories I thought were just cool ideas but that I had no emotional connection to. That showed in the hollow characters. To breathe life into a character, a world, any piece of writing, you have to have that life to breathe into it. Take what you really want to say, and why it's important to you and write it down. We’re just starting out after all. No publisher or editor is on your ass about deadlines or market viability. We’re here to improve right now, not make money.

In high school and the beginning of college, three friends and I tried writing a web series together. We got 3 or 4 episodes written but never filmed any of them (there were no helpful beginner friendly tutorials, you see). We stopped writing for an extended period of time over a creative disagreement in which I was at odds with the rest of the group over whether our YouTube show in 2012ish should include a prank episode to capitalize on the popularity of prank videos on YouTube. I wanted to, no one else did. The writing sessions got heated and the four of us took some time apart. When we eventually reconnected (it didn’t take long, we were all close friends first and foremost), I came in with a pitch. The characters we would all play would be at odds over whether or not they should prank their neighbor in retaliation for a perceived slight. My character being the only one who wanted to play the prank would spitefully go off on his own to carry out the revenge, only for things to go horribly wrong and the rest of the crew would have to extract me from the neighbors house.

The true to life circumstances led to a better idea. It also allowed me, in my own way, to say what I wanted to say. In the time between our disagreement and getting back together to write, I was sad and I missed my friends. I believed a prank episodes could be a good idea, I also see how it could go wrong and where my motivations were as opposed to the other writers in the room. How can we make this work? Creating the scenario out of our disagreement was what we ultimately went with and it made the episode truly mean something.

I've become emotionally aware and am overwhelmed by all the parts of myself I hate! Now what?!

This is all part of the plan and I’m here for you. "I" being this article, not "I" Josh, the writer of it since I don't know you personally. You do have people you know personally, though. Ask for feedback from someone letting them know you are looking for things that might be confusing or could be better explained. They don’t have to be a writer themselves to know what they like or find entertaining.

Ultimately as we learn, we have to be able to see the areas we need to improve. For me, I noticed right away I had trouble giving physical descriptions of scenes, people, creatures. I knew because those were the things I was self conscious of when showing my work to other people. I used that awareness to seek help for that specific area. I do writing exercises focused on areas of improvement like writing interesting physical descriptions or practicing functional dialogue. Your personal opportunities for improvement will be different from others and a simple search for these exercises will give you a good place to start.

A lot of this practical advice had to do with finding a deeper personal connection with yourself and your emotions, I realize. I truly believe this is the biggest thing I’ve done in the early steps of my writing, as I now see the story in everything. I’m able to live my life, experience the full breadth of my emotions, and bring that to the desk where I’ve already established a routine. Inspiration comes from everywhere. With this method, I no longer have to wait for inspiration to strike. I go out, I live, I harness the inspiration for when I’m ready, and then let it all out.

“I found myself coming down here more and more. Such a lovely smell from the dryer sheets. I like it because there is a window that is always opened a little crack there… It felt just like her to lead me to a place where I would experience something new and special.” -Marcel the Shell with Shoes On

On Avoiding My Chores

I'm a podcast enjoyer. My favorite chores podcast is Search Engine, the investigative reporting podcast built on the vestiges of Reply All. In an episode from last year, PJ, the host, talked to people about their thoughts and experiences with an emerging business that would train an AI chatbot on the speech patterns and personality of a deceased loved one that you could talk to forever. Of the many opinions expressed on the episode, one stuck with me. To paraphrase, when we refuse to grieve, to deny the reality, it takes away the opportunity to feel their memories as their presence. We can't feel their presence in the wind, or in the smell of a favorite homemade dish without accepting that that is where they are now. A hummingbird became the symbol of my grandpa after he passed. He would sit in his recliner chair with a perfect line of sight to the front porch where a feeder hung and he'd watch them, content to ignore the TV just behind him. An ornament of a hummingbird hangs next to his picture on the ofrenda in my mom's house.

I listen to Search Engine every week while doing the dishes and for the past 6 months I've ignored an empty bowl, "QUEEN" etched into its side with a couple small remnants of crusted cat food at the bottom. At first, my wife and I were aware of our avoidance. Our cat, Tink, had her own room in our house that we knew we had to start using again or else risk being too afraid to ever go back in. The more subtle means of avoidance were easily explained away as procrastination. I'll get to that bowl eventually, it's not like anyone's using it. The honest truth is it feels like the last piece of her I have.

What does any of this have to do with 2025's surprise hit RPG, Clair Obscur: Expedition 33? The game takes place in a warped version of our world in which a merciless god, The Paintress, paints a number each year on a monolith, instantly erasing anyone that age and older from existence. Each year the number decreases. It imagines a world plagued by death and hopelessness for the future, their only hope being a yearly expedition of their oldest citizens. Their last year is spent in the pursuit of hope for the future by killing The Paintress. Even in their efforts, there is a doomed overture. "For those who come after" is the moniker, their greatest hope is to die to make the next expedition easier. Does anyone dare imagine they will reach the monolith and kill the Paintress?

Expedition 33 is made up of many 32 years olds, and one 16 year old with no real family. Maelle has already seen everyone she knew die, and hates the Paintress even more than most. Her brother figure, Gustave, a clever, overworked magician, Lune, and Sciel, the fierce fighter who lost her husband and child, make up the remains of Expedition 33 after their entire crew is attacked immediately upon landing on the continent outside their borders. They desperately try to recollect themselves and continue the mission after a devastating loss, and with the help of a mysterious and haunting figure, The Curator, they get back on track to hunt The Paintress.

The world is in a constant state of grief and fear. They know their fates; it looms over them from afar, its shadow casting despair to the far reaches of the world. Some have grown to hate the Expeditioners, accepting what is rather than the constant struggle to change what they believe cannot be changed. There is peace for them in that acceptance. It would, after all, give them another year to be with the ones they love instead of heading out on the Expedition just to die. Those left behind by Expeditioners are either proud that their loved one made a heroic sacrifice, or resentful that they chose the Expedition over time with them. It is important to remember, no one in Lumiere, where they live, has any idea of the progress or even possibility of reaching The Paintress, as no expeditioner has ever come back. The Expedition is entirely a leap of faith even over 100 years since The Paintress appeared.

When Expedition 33 is attacked upon their arrival on the Continent, Gustave observes the piles and piles of mangled corpses from past Expeditions- it would appear, especially in his frantic state, that no Expedition in all of this age has ever made it past the beach. Hopelessness, ever present in the age of The Paintress, overwhelms Gustave as he places his gun to his head. Sat up against a tower of the bodies of Expeditioners past, Lune finds him just in time.

Lune, logical and by-the-book to a fault, comforts him the best way she knows how. "For those who come after," "When one falls, we continue," all of the monikers of the Expedition are rooted in in the same hopelessness in which they live their lives. Bad things will happen, we've accounted for this, we move on.

Hope and/or hopelessness, then are our central themes in my estimation heading into the first act of Clair Obscur. The feeling is well established in the text and tonally within the dark lighting and music. The attack at the beach shifts between black and white and gory splashes of red. The tone is not frantic, but somber, as if this was the only way things could have gone. Like Lune reassures Gustave: we've accounted for this, we knew this, we continue. Hopeless is their home. Suicide is alluded to on multiple occasions, and after Lune saves Gustave, he confides in Sciel who he knows attempted suicide herself after the loss of her husband and child. She, like Gustave, found a reason to go on, even if there are those who would believe the Expedition is a form of suicide in the end. There is hope in their fight, even if only as a faint light at the end of a long and impossibly dark tunnel. I can picture and feel the kind of hope the Expeditioners have, a hope that they can't even believe in like an accepted lie you tell yourself to keep going.

Why does Gustave go on then? Presumably he was ready to die from the start, and when all truly seemed lost, he proved that. After he is saved, Gustave will prove his willingness to die again at the end of act one. He is confronted again by the old man on the beach, Renoir. The man who massacred his expedition. Combat ensues, and we are forced to levy futile attack commands against him. Hopeless. Hopeless if not for his belief and love for the family he chose to take in: Maelle, his most trusted confidant, a sister, friend to him. She is there behind him, watching helplessly, and she has to live. All he can do is fight, even if it is meaningless, so that she might live.

Enter Verso. Renoir and Verso were part of the very first expedition, Expedition 00 and have managed to live all this time despite the Paintress' cruel canvas. How? And why does Maelle see the dreaded old man and a strange girl in her dreams? Slowly we learn through act two of Verso and Renoir's relationship as father and son and the girl who was burned in a fire during the fracture that brought about this world. Renoir was granted immortality by the Paintress, as was Verso, and Renoir is keen to keep things as they are. Verso is done with the cruelty and pain it's caused, and has helped countless other Expeditions in their attempts, but none to any avail. Verso is determined to finish what he started with that first expedition, and in the process has seen all of his companions, year after year, die.

Two more themes spring to mind. One has been sutured tight to our previous theme of hopelessness, and that is the relentless presence of death. Not only is it inevitable in Clair Obscur's world, but it is predetermined and tangible. It stares at the people of Lumiere from a monolith any time they dare to lift their heads up. The grief stricken residents carry that feeling day after day, their sense of family shattered. Parents will die young, couples grapple with bringing children into a world with no future, everyone must decide between a year with their loved ones or joining the Expedition. Nothing is easy. Familial bonds lace through the woven narrative, tying every choice, twist, and turn together. From Maelle's life as an orphan bouncing from home to home, Sciel's loss of her husband, Lune being trained since childhood for the Expedition, and Verso who would oppose his own father for what he believes is right, these dynamics take shape slowly, subtly until they engulf each character. Suddenly Lune's staunch dedication to the Expedition becomes a way to honor her family who she holds some resentment towards for forcing her into the only worldview she knows. Sciel decided long ago what she must do, as her hope was to one day see her family again. Maelle would accompany Gustave, the last family she ever had.

When the act three twist arrived, I was not surprised. Not in a braggadocious, I-am-so-smart way. That people are dying in a hopeless world was not, to me, the biggest idea this game had. In fact, I see that pretty often. Clair Obscur has packaged that idea in a unique and interesting way that deserves tremendous praise, but that is simply the hook. The question is why?

The characters in Expedition 33 are a fiction within a fiction. The Paintress is a god in this world in the same way a writer is the god of their story. The Paintress is the reflection of the real person, Aline, who's son, Verso died in a fire saving his sister, Alicia. The Verso we know, and the Maelle we know are the versions of those two siblings inside of the painting. Renoir is also the painted version of the real Renoir, their father and Aline's husband. The painted version of Renoir was created by Aline to protect her so she would never be forced to leave the painting where her son was still alive. The real Renoir and Alicia (Maelle), went into the painting to bring Aline back. So why is this fictional Verso who has no real life counterpart so determined to destroy the Paintress and help the Expeditions? There are a number of reasons, the main being he was not created by Aline. The entire world was originally painted by Verso before he died. Aline became consumed by it and fled to it to keep a part of him alive. Verso holds the memories of his creator still and knows it is best for his mother to leave the painting. If that was a lot, the world we've ventured through is the creation of a family of artists who are, in different ways, grieving the death of a son and brother.

Maelle regains her memories as Alicia and we find that not much has changed. She has a family which has been torn apart by tragedy. She holds tremendous sorrow in her heart as she believes it is her fault Verso died in the fire. He died saving her, just like Gustave. The artwork that is the world of Lumiere-- the Expeditions, the creatures they meet, the titanic Axions, and The Paintress-- is a collaboration among a grieving family, the basis for which was crafted by their lost loved one. For those who come after, we continue. That anyone would be lucky enough to have something as true of someone as a piece of art they've created is the most precious gift I can imagine. Maelle, Alicia, honors that by completing Verso's wish, crafting the story with her as the hero, and him by her side, supporting her every step of the way. He loved her in such a way that he would give his life so hers could continue, even if when he stepped into the fire that was never a guarantee. Like the Expeditioners he created, the smallest glimmer of hope was all he needed, the tiny flicker of light at the end of the impossible dark. That she might live.

Now, however, Verso is trapped. The painted Verso is a prisoner in the painting, kept alive as a hollow copy by his grieving mother who just wants him to be there with her. This Verso isn't making a sacrifice by urging his mother and Maelle out of the painting. This Verso wants to be free. When all is said and done the player has the choice: help Verso defeat Maelle, the painted version of his sister, so that she can awaken to live her true life, or choose Maelle and let her live out the fantasy with her brother, forever living in the painting where they are together while her family outside watches her body waste away.

I chose Maelle. I had seen Clair Obscur as her story even when we play as Gustav in the beginning, and I thought it right to give her the agency in the end. She successfully traps Verso there, repaints all of her friends, and we flash forward to a future where they all grow old. The expeditioners sit in a packed theater to watch Verso perform on his piano. Sorrow stains his face as he sits there, and from his perspective we see him try to resist playing. But as merely a painting, a false memory, he is beholden to Maelle's will, her own cursed face flashing before him, forcing his hands.

The other ending, in which Verso forces Maelle out of the painting and into the real world, ends on a somber, but hopeful note. Her family grieves together at a memorial and Maelle is able to have her own version of the hummingbirds that remind my family of my grandpa. She holds a stuffed doll made in the image of one of Verso's creations, the lovable Esquie, and she sees for the final time the images of her lost friends and brothers wave goodbye and fade away; always there when the wind blows just right.

In playing Clair Obscur Expedition 33, and subsequently writing this reflection, I cried several times, each time about my cat, Tink. I didn't expect that the opening moments in which Gustave says goodbye to his girlfriend, Sophie, The Paintress' latest victim, would effect me so. I woke up early to play before work having heard how spectacular the game was and before I could clock in, I was in tears. On the day last December when Tink passed, I was home working. She had been sick and wasn't eating, so we knew it wouldn't be long. My dog started barking upstairs. I'll never forget he was the one who alerted me to what was happening so I could be there. I sat on the floor with her, and pet her, and I told her, "I'm here," over and over.

These are the last words Gustave says to Sophie as she is spirited away.

If the game had ended up being a fun romp through an exciting new fantasy world, or any old run-of-the-mill RPG, I would have still had that moment. It was special from the opening hours. What it turned out to be was a true work of art, a masterclass on all fronts in the multidisciplinary medium of video games, and more than anything else it gave me actionable inspiration that helped me in my real life. Tink's food bowl was the hardest dish I ever had to wash in a world of dirty dishes I hate washing, but doing so made room for her memory and our love for her to live on.

Subscribe now

People come together to make great pieces of art. Andor is produced by a massive team of talented writers, cinematographers, actors, designers, and so many more areas of expertise. How do they all feel about the themes of Andor? Given the opportunity to create a show like Andor, how would I make sure it had the most impact? Is Disney's mind-boggling release strategy of 3 episodes per week a sign that they do feel some pressure to dampen the show's reach?

I can also imagine the casual TV enjoyer who watches the new Star Wars show because they like Star Wars enough and they're already paying for the Hulu bundle. They might enjoy it for the excitement and the action and the drama and their eyes will glaze over the fact Karis Nemik writes a manifesto about how to overthrow an imperialist government. I understand this viewer. We've all had a long day of work and I just need flashing lights and quick movements on a screen at the end of the day. Disney is hoping we all feel that way.

Disco Elysium was produced by a team of close, likeminded friends who thanked Karl Marx for their win at The Game Awards. We know how they all felt when making this game, and how it was all ripped away and scattered to the winds in a haunting mirroring of the revolutionary war that took place in the game.

People also come together to experience great art! Barbenheimer weekend was a massive shot in the arm movie theaters desperately needed. While this action spelled massive profits for the studios that produced Barbie and Oppenheimer, there was perhaps a missed opportunity for the sentiment, and again the inspiration to action.

Pokémon Go on a near weekly basis has millions of players out congregating for special events. It is a game that lives or dies on players going out into their communities to play with others. This is not to mention the growing tension between players and Niantic/Scopely around monetization practices.

These are just some of the thoughts I have on the question of whether or not art holds revolutionary power. If not, lots of resources have been wasted in trying to suppress the reading of certain books, watching of certain films, etc. If we can remember that the art is the inspiration for the action and not the action itself, I believe we can do so much with the art that massive corporations have already so hubrisly provided.

If I'm going to challenge a popular psychological theory, I want to take the time to do it right. I'm certainly not an expert, but I have developed a deep understanding of how to motivate myself and utilize my energy and inspiration. I also play a lot of video games and watch a lot of movies (follow on Letterboxd)! Over the next few months I'm going to explore this idea using some of my favorite pieces of media that have inspired me. I'll examine what inspired me about them and how, if I'm able, I used that to do more good. "Good" in this case need not change the world. It shouldn't change the world, not yet. If we can start to see actionable change in the media we see everyday then we are truly unstoppable.

"The day will come when all these skirmishes and battles, these moments of defiance will have flooded the banks of the Empire's authority and then there will be one too many. One single thing will break the siege. Remember this: Try." -from Karis Nemik's Manifesto, Andor

At the beginning of pandemic lockdown, 2020, I was lucky enough to have a job that could not be worked from home. So my company paid me to stay home doing whatever I wanted every other week. Finally, the moment I’d been waiting for. My entire life I had to work full time to barely afford rent and food and by the time I got home, I was much too exhausted to write. Now I had a week long vacation every other week, paid, to create the art I had always wanted.

I present the fruits of those precious weeks below:

“.”

If you blinked, you may have missed that there’s nothing there. I did nothing with that time but be sad and angry and pay my favorite bands $10 to watch them play live from a basement studio.

I would eventually get a job I could work from home which lasted about a year until they pulled us into the office three days a week. If I didn’t have the time nor energy when I worked from home (and not at all), surely I would not be able to write when commuting across state lines every day.

Nay, it is because I commute across state lines every day I am able to write so much! Such is the power of public transit.

If this is starting to sound like return-to-office propaganda know that I would never wish commuting to work in a personal vehicle on anyone and if I didn’t have the option of bus or train I would have quit then and there.

At first, I had a hard time. I was getting used to how long it would take to get in to work, and anxious about missing my stop. On the way home I was tired after the day of work and often wouldn't feel like writing. That was the first major lesson that led to writing exponentially more: I felt like I should be filling every free moment with words, and disappointed in myself when I couldn't. Confidence plummets and the cycle continues. Learning when to write was the first step in breaking out of that loop and building discipline.

Concocting a Routine

I started a schedule. If I was too tired to write after work, then I would write on weekends. Saturday and Sunday mornings. I met with a writing group of close friends every Monday to talk about what we've been working on so this would also be good for getting things done right before that deadline. Right away I knew this was what I'd been missing. The excitement I had for writing returned immediately and I was busting out 1500-2000 words twice a week. I built a routine around it that felt like magic.

I wake up on the weekends between 6:30 and 7:00 AM. I let my dog out and give him a treat while my coffee brews. I let myself watch as my cup fills under the nespresso machine and take in the smell of the earthy Mexico blend, my favorite flavor. I've found I greatly prefer the flavor when I mix in the foamy layer as opposed to drinking it straight from the top so I always gently stir my coffee before sitting down.

Then, and this is important, I watch a show or play a video game. Whatever I want to watch or play. I've found that one of two things will happen when I do this.

A. I'm so excited to write about a topic or story I've been thinking of all week that I don't finish the episode or play very long and just get right to the writing. That I was able to put the media down and write is a reminder to me of my growing passion and love for writing.

Or B. I watch the entire episode or play for an hour, then do a free writing exercise about what I'd just seen or played, warming me up to begin my writing session.

Both have been equally rewarding and helpful in building my discipline for writing. Often times those are the things that inspire my writing as well, such as playing Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 and watching Frieren: Beyond Journey's End.

The final step is creating my atmosphere. With a clearer idea of what I would be writing that morning, I’ll choose a soundtrack to listen to. The "Citizen Sleeper 2" soundtrack by Amos Roddy was perfect earlier this year on overcast mornings with hot coffee. As it's gotten warmer I've been making iced lattes and listening to Evan Call's "Frieren: Beyond Journey's End" and Lorien Testard's breakout "Clair Obscur: Expedition 33" OSTs. All of these have set a mood for my writing that is invaluable to my process.

And then I just write. Freely and as honestly as I can, I write. When I get stuck, I edit, or outline. I'm lucky enough to have a writing group where I receive valuable notes I can implement. I guess I should mention the disclaimer that I have an incredibly talented group of close friends I trust and respect. I'd recommend that for whatever routine you decide on.

The Technology is Trains and Busses, By the Way

Two days a week was only the beginning but they continue to be my favorite sessions because of this ritual. This is how I've learned (along with weekly therapy) to coax the words out of me and my excitement for these mornings has spread to almost every aspect of my life. I no longer drink on Friday nights. I will still gladly accept an invitation from friends to go out but if I'm staying in watching a movie with my wife, that no longer includes a shot of tequila and a Modelo. I wake up at the same time everyday, weekday or otherwise and I have so much more energy when getting up, even for work because now I know I have a bus ride to work on ideas.

After building the discipline on the weekends I was able to expand my work to the morning commute. No longer groggy, and familiar enough with my route to know when to look up and exit the bus, I was free to commit to my writing. I lose myself on that bus some mornings, only being ripped back to reality by the ding that signaled my stop on 13th street. The low rumble lulls me into that space, the silent community around me, all of us headed to different places but in the same direction for the same purpose. That's my atmosphere for weekday writing and it is just as inspiring. I still don't write on the way home after the day of work, too tired to collect my thoughts and put pen to paper, but I've learned that's part of it. Writers write and I've only recently felt I can call myself a writer. Like any other title, writers also rest. I can't fill every free moment with words, nor should I, but I can find the times where the words fit best. And so can you.

I thought I was about to lose my undefeated streak at the first boss of Clair Obscur: Expedition 33. Eveque, the shadowy woodland monster, had begun charging an attack two turns prior and as a lifelong Gamer I knew I had to end this fight before that attack went off. On each of the turns it charged, it clutched at its glowing weak point in the center of its chest, and the camera gives clear focus to the beautiful purple flowers blooming along each arm. I anticipated I had one last shot to end this.

The turn order is displayed to the left of the combat screen a la Final Fantasy X, and I could see both of my party members, Gustav and Lune, would attack next. I had no more charges left to fire off my more powerful special attacks, but with the minuscule amount of health Eveque had left, I wasn’t worried. Gustav’s regular attack chunked off more than half the remaining health as expected and I was home free. I selected Lune’s regular attack, and as she pulled off a levitating spinning back kick, my heart dropped as the boss’s health bar didn’t budge.

I mentioned before I’ve been doing this a long time (Gaming) so a few things ran through my head as it seemed the boss would be eviscerating my team any moment. There is a common trope of the unbeatable first boss in games meant to be a tutorial or indication of challenges to come. The second thought was that players are meant to see the climactic boss attack, and it would trigger inevitably when the boss’s health reached a certain threshold. Finally, it was possible Lune’s regular attack, which I had not put a single attribute point into, was just not very strong and we were about to die. None of these were the case.

The scene cuts to an in-engine1 cinematic in which the boss looks to be readying its final blow. Lune calls to Gustav, hovering in the air with her mage powers. Together they spot an opening, and strike in a climactic flurry, ending the boss fight.

This is not necessarily a unique concept. It’s most popular instance being in the question, “how do you want to do this,” asked by Matt Mercer in the popular tabletop RPG performance Critical Role— you’ve struck the finishing blow, get creative and describe how it looks. Seeing it in a video game is less common. I lit up when I realized what was happening and it brought me back to a thought and mindset I had when I was a child but had since been suppressed by mundane, cruel “reality.”

Tell me if any of these sound familiar:

“If I got to make a movie, I would hire all the biggest actors and write the best script and tell everyone in the world about how good it was.”

“If I wrote a book it would be every genre at once with action and romance and drama and it’s gonna be a trilogy and a movie and everyone will love it.”

“If I could make a game, it would remind you of the best Final Fantasy combat, but also it’s like Dark Souls, and the actors are all from recent hit video games, and Marvel, and Lord of the Rings movies, and when you beat a boss, a cinematic plays that shows your character’s epic victory!”

These are the childish ramblings of the inexperienced creative, naive to the constraints of how art is funded, who and how many people are involved, deadlines, mandates, budgets, market trends, the three act structure, etc. The older we get, the more we learn about these constraints, the more they become a forethought to creation. While constraints can be a boon to the creative process, these in particular, the corporate funded “reality,” loom over the creative like shadows, obscuring possibility.

Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 seems to disprove this reality. An independent game studio, Sandfall Interactive, made up of just over 30 talented game developers, with their first game, scribbled their childhood dreams and ambitions on a piece of construction paper and brought it to life. Some of the biggest names in video game voice acting are here fresh off of huge successes like Baldur’s Gate 3 and Final Fantasy XVI. The lead, Gustav is voiced by Charlie Cox who can be seen as the titular character in the latest season of Marvel’s Daredevil. Of course, the incredible Andy Serkis also lends his voice to the project. This is, by all accounts, a dream cast for a small studio’s first project.

Developed using Unreal Engine 5, the game is beautiful and runs near flawlessly on all platforms, a feat studios like Ubisoft, Bethesda, even FromSoftware, are still working to pull off. The art direction is unique and some areas are truly breathtaking to look at. One area in particular has you enter into an underwater environment, yet the player simply walks through it surrounded by the sea life.

Ambitious and successful as this all is this is video games we’re talking about, and none of it matters without fun and satisfying moment to moment gameplay. Once again Sandfall Interactive took all of their favorite parts of every iconic RPG and smashed it into a supergroup game. Turn based combat by way of Final Fantasy X allows for clever strategy while mixing in a dodge and parry system to keep the player engaged during the enemy’s turn. There are a plethora of upgrades and equipables to customize the builds of your party members that can be used for role play purposes (my preferred play style) or min maxed2 to the point of absolute domination over every opponent. All of this, and they still were able to include flashy attack animations complete with dramatic final blow cinematics for tough boss fights, a cinematic that made me want to seek my own childlike creativity again. I wanted to create without rules or pretenses of what was possible. Everything I’ve just described about this game should be impossible, yet here we are.

I wrote about how turn based combat is best for story telling and player imagination here

Strategic partnerships and clever capital acquisition helped Sandfall Interactive bring their vision to life, including a grant from Epic Games created specifically to help smaller teams get up and running. Clair Obscur also released day one on Game Pass, Microsoft’s game streaming platform, and Sandfall have developed some level of partnership with the tech giant having been featured in several showcases and developer directs. Early in production, they received financial support from local government funds including the French National Center for Cinema and another local fund for developing in the Occitanie region.

Ultimately, it’s clear this small team has created something special against all preconceived notions of the possible. In a world and industry where layoffs and downscaling plague even the titans of gaming, like Sony and Microsoft, somehow this new (though experienced) team managed to break through “reality.” Clair Obscur then manages something beyond just a great game. It reminds us of what creativity and art are all about: imagining the impossible. Both in the art, and in our world.

The flaws I hate most about others are the ones that most remind me of myself, so when I describe Tunic as having an exceptional central premise that fails to meet the basic demands of its medium, trust that I’ve done the reflection to know where that’s coming from. The moment to moment gameplay is simply not fun. The swordplay is wonky and the isometric camera angle is hard to get used to. I’d regularly be swinging wildly in the wrong direction which added an unnecessary layer of difficulty. The necessary layer of difficulty, however, is the game’s intriguing premise: uncover pieces of a game manual that reveal new information to assist the player in solving puzzles and navigating the beautiful world. These manual pieces can act as upgrades or items as the player gains new mental tools to overcome obstacles. Alas, there is no page to fix the combat and I set the game down after the first boss.

That was in 2022 upon Tunic’s initial release. I never went back to uncover its mysteries, which I hear are exciting and abundant, but even as I write this in 2025 I am listening to the phenomenal original soundtrack composed by duo Lifeformed and Janice Kwan. It’s accompanied me through work days, writing sessions, walks in the park, and a particularly grueling travel day with several layovers through the night.

What starts as a sweeping ballad of piano and electronics, the opening track To Far Shores quickly takes a hard minor turn, becoming a frantic adventure. High pitched blips ping back and forth like signals from other worlds. We settle back into the piano having been whisked away onto our journey.

Early area pieces are ethereal and full of wonder. The sense of discovery present in those tracks sets the tone for what Tunic the game wants to accomplish. Since it is a puzzle game filled to the brim with secrets, the soft piano and synth of Memories of Memories and Redwood Colonnade evoke walking peacefully through an unknown forest discovering treasures and caves among the tall trees.

Then there are boss fights like The Knight and The Captain where the frantic electronics return, but the ethereal quality remains. Unknown forces are at play and through the music we know there are details about our adversaries and their world we don’t yet understand.

The musical identity is solidly established in this space of ethereal discovery and frantic otherworldliness, and several motifs start to take shape within the soundscapes. The Memories of Memories motif carries to Forget to Forget and Remember to Remember, each a reprise of the first level’s theme inspiring your journey. The former is concealed in some way, however, as if submerged underwater, drowning and obscured, while the latter feels like waking up on a sunny weekend morning. The titles evoke the memories associated with such instances, Forget to Forget being a particularly perplexing double negative, itself meaning, “remember.”

From Far Shores is the stripped down penultimate track in the almost three hour endeavor. Like the soundtrack opener, it evokes a call from far beyond the known. Now we have a better understanding. The shore from which the call came housed the memories and experiences which make up the self. The call is both to and from us, constantly in conversation, leading, following, understanding.

I’ve always wanted to be a writer. Since I was a kid I loved music, movies, books, and comics and I wanted to be part of making them. I dabbled in all of them, but in my head a war waged. I told myself regularly after writing a new poem or short story, “wait, am I the best writer ever to put pen to paper,” overly proud of having written something. I still struggle to balance the equation of this feeling and the knowing (at least I thought I knew) that I was not, in fact, the best writer to ever do it, nor was I any good at all, and I would never get better.

I fought this battle internally for almost 30 years and it led me to give up on trying a long time ago. As I’ve grown to better understand myself (which has only started happening in the past 2 years and is how I’m able to keep this newsletter consistent now), I’ve learned where this thinking comes from, that it doesn’t need to be logical to have profound effects. When I think back, there were ideas I had even as a child that were great! Even if I didn’t have the skills to execute them at the time, I could learn, but that never felt possible. Now, approaching 33 years old, I know how possible it is and I’ve never felt so fulfilled in my writing.

A little less than half way through the album is perhaps the most curious track in Tunic’s soundtrack. My Favourite Customer opens with ghostly percussive tones ascending to an eerie lead melody that vaguely sounds like the words of an otherworldly language. The creature that accompanies this theme in game is a monstrous skeletal merchant. Could this be the singer of the song as the first person title suggests? A robust community, it turns out, has formed around the deciphering of what has been dubbed “Tuneic,” a hidden audio language deep within the game’s world and its soundtrack. As of writing, the entirety of its secrets have not been uncovered but it is all but confirmed that even the order of notes and how certain time signatures play out all contain hidden clues which can be translated to lore and in game discoveries. That brilliant idea, discovering a hidden game manual to progress through Tunic, was only half of the brilliant idea. The clues and treasures were everywhere, even in the games soundtrack. As a result of such a well realized puzzle, a huge community emerged to crack it, even despite my own problems with how the game itself played.

There are people who want to play your game, read your book, watch your movie, hear your song. There are people who will want to hear what I have to say, too. None of it will be perfect, and it might not make you rich or famous. I spent too much of my life caring too much about if what I was writing was the best thing ever written, and until now zero time practicing to get closer to that impossible bar. I only reached that realization by answering the call to far shores, the call from within to better understand who I am, what I want, and what I love.

Listen, if I made a beloved game that I didn’t own the rights to, and the rights holder wouldn’t allow me to follow up on that game in any way, I would probably go to their competitor to spitefully create a similar looking game with a legally distinct title exclusive to a different platform where the original rights holder would never see a cent. The high road, as it were.

There are several reasons why this may not be the case with The Duskbloods, FromSoftware’s recently announced Nintendo Switch 2 exclusive which bares a striking resemblance to Bloodborne. For one, every breath the studio takes fills Sony’s pockets as they’re a substantial shareholder. Second, it’s unlikely they’d change the type of game for a spiritual Bloodborne sequel, as The Duskbloods will be an eight player PvPvE experience.

Things aren’t looking good for this game being the one we (Bloodborne sickos, you’ve probably heard of one of our 3 causes [PC port, PS5 remaster, sequel]) have been hoping for, but reality has never stopped us before. So here are the top 4 reasons The Duskbloods is, in fact, Bloodborne 2.

1. Hidetaka Miyazaki

I’ll admit that the timing of The Duskbloods announcement isn’t ideal. FromSoftware’s first ever multiplayer game, Elden Ring Nightreign, is still on the horizon and as much goodwill as the development studio have earned, this is a brand new arena for them and many are still waiting to see how it will turn out. I’ve played Nightreign myself, so I personally know it rules and I’ve been counting the days until I can play it again, but I can understand the cautious optimism. Now there are two multiplayer games for skeptical players to raise eyebrows at.

The difference, however, is while Nightreign was directed by Junya Ichizaki, an exceptional developer in his own right, The Duskbloods will be helmed by the acclaimed Hidetaka Miyazaki, the man responsible for Elden Ring, Dark Souls, and of course, Bloodborne. That this is Miyazaki’s next project post Elden Ring means something. The man has a Blank Check to pursue whatever crazy passion project he wants and this is that project. Sure, sometimes those checks clear and sometimes they bounce, bounce baby, but as I said earlier, he’s earned the benefit of the doubt.

Most of that previous paragraph was a reference to a podcast called Blank Check, I apologize.

2. Setting and theme of Blood

Bloodborne’s gothic Victorian setting set it apart from the dark fantasy setting of Dark Souls, and in The Duskbloods we are so back. Clock towers stretch high into the heavens, cathedrals sprawl like fortresses throughout the world. The opening monologue of the trailer sets us in “…a night of moonlight, to humanity’s very dusk,” perhaps, indicating the passage of time in the Bloodborne universe. Then we get to see it, the ultimate symbol of progress, forward motion, and innovation. Fucking trains, bro! This was the second pop-off moment in the trailer after the FromSoftware logo. The technological improvements over Bloodborne are abundant with automatic weaponry as opposed to the more archaic blunderbusses and pistols of the Yharnam we know. All signs points to sequel, and there are more clues to this point that I’ll get into in the next section.

We cannot ignore the references to blood, the most important symbol of Bloodborne’s lore, narrative, and gameplay. Blood was medicine, sacred religious rite, and Yharnam’s ultimate downfall. In the end, it was the task of the hunter to bring an end to the hunt which would see them strike down beasts afflicted with the illness caused by the blood, but we the player can choose a different path. I believe Duskbloods takes place in a world where the hunt continues as it always has, the player failing to disrupt the cycle. Technology moves forward but still trapped within the oppressive system of blood administration and the hunt.

Miyazaki has confirmed in an interview with Nintendo that Bloodsworn (this is what the “hunters” are called now), “..have achieved superhuman abilities through the power of special blood.” This is literally Bloodborne, as well. It’s all adding up. Nintendo’s interview specifically brings up the role of blood in the game to which Miyazaki confirms it is the game’s key theme. It will be important to remember going forward that if this is, in fact, a successor to Bloodborne, Miyazaki can never, ever, say so.

3. Returning Characters

Asset reuse is a staple of game development and no studio asset reuses like FromSoftware! For this reason, it would be foolish to look at “returning” characters and assume they are the same from Bloodborne.

The Cleric Beast from Bloodborne is prominently shown in the trailer for The Duskbloods. So is the iconic Hunter’s Cap. These are definitive proof of the connection between the two games. What sets these things apart from typical asset reuse is that the “Cleric Beast” is actually a hide in Duskbloods. It appears a Bloodsworn (I mean come on, that just sounds like Bloodborne) has taken its corpse and fashioned garb from it, showing again the passage of time.

The Hunter’s Cap makes an appearance as well in the trailer, a Bloodsworn valiantly running atop an otherworldly creature. Perhaps the clearest indication of a shared world are these creatures, and a scene that depicts a smiling moonlike creature. Bloodborne’s big twist that it is not simply a gothic werewolf story but a cosmic horror tale with Lovecraftian monstrosities lurking everywhere, even if the player can’t see them. This seems to be making a return as well.

4. I need this. Please just let me have this. It has to be, it just has to be

We’ve been asking for this for so long, please let me live this lie, let me hope, let me be embraced by the Hunter’s Dream and repeat the cycle over and over until humanity’s very dusk, I’m begging!

Thank you for reading. If you’d like to join in my delusions, let me know what you think of The Duskbloods and Bloodborne! Also consider subscribing for more because this will not be the last time I write about Bloodborne, The Duskbloods, and FromSoftware!

Leave a comment

Subscribe now

“Cause here’s the thing

To know how it ends

And still begin to sing it again

As if it might turn out this time

I learned that from a friend of mine…

He could make you see the way the world could be

In spite of the way that it is”

-Hadestown

The Myth and Legend of Final Fantasy VII

Aerith’s death in Final Fantasy VII at the hands of Sephiroth is the “Luke, I am your father,” of video games.

If you talk to anyone remotely present in a gaming space, they will not only know the iconic FF7 cast of characters— Cloud with his comically large Buster Sword, Sephiroth with his comically long katana— they will also know the general story, including the heartbreaking twist, even if they’ve never played the game themselves.

The logical next step for such a beloved story over twenty years since its original release was, of course, a remake. The Last of Us (we’re calling it Part 1, now) was released in 2013 originally and has been remastered, remade, and televised. It took Pedro Pascal for my mom to finally care. Of course FF7 is deserving of similar treatment. The remake would be a trilogy, the first installment being Final Fantasy VII: Remake in 2020.

Remake was a critical and commercial success, revered by fans and critics for its innovative take on the classic tale, telling us a renewed story of resistance and struggle under an oppressive corporate government. In doing so, it also served as a meta commentary on Final Fantasy VII itself. That Remake is, well, a remake, serves as subtext within the game as forces beyond the character’s understanding try to keep them on a specific path, intervening whenever events take place that did not occur in 1997’s FF7. “Fate,” or the events of the original game, plays a role, and in the first of the remade trilogy, Cloud, Aerith, Tifa, Barret, and the rest of their party destroy those bonds, leaving the rest of the trilogy a blank slate. The game ends with the title card, “The Unknown Story Will Continue.”

I couldn’t believe it. The most effecting, devastating video game death may be undone in this remake. It was all Final Fantasy fans could think about in the four years between Remake, and the second of the trilogy, Final Fantasy VII: Rebirth, released in 2024. Would the events of Final Fantasy VII play out in a happier way? Would the tragedy of Aerith’s death be averted? Just like that, the development team created uncertainty in a remake.

The sequel released, we played it, and were reminded once again of the tragedy, the inevitability of death.

The Not So Unknown Story

A couple of months removed from the initial release of Rebirth you’ll see a much different story than its predecessor. Reviews were mixed, with some criticising the open world feeling bloated with meaningless tasks and collectathons. The ending was largely panned by players and critics claiming it convoluted and ultimately unsatisfying.

I took my time with Rebirth, and ignored all coverage of the game until I had finished it for myself. One thing about the game struck me early on and only deepened the more I played.

Nothing has changed.

Many of the beats of Final Fantasy VII’s middle portion remain intact in its remake despite the promise of an “unknown story.” I kept playing, and the reality continued to sink in: It’s FFV but bigger. There are more character interactions encouraged by a friendship system displayed above party member’s heads so you know Clouds friendship levels with each of his companions. These levels serve a purpose in combat as well, allowing for powerful Synergy Abilities between characters with strong connections. This adds a mechanical element to something we already know about FF7 from 1997, which is many of these characters have reached icon, even mythical status within video games, and their relationships have always been the core of the series.

Along with that, the many, many side quests and minigames, which have been a major point of criticism, allow for the strengthening of these bonds between characters. Many of the minigames are quite fun as well, especially the breakout card game, Queen’s Blood. The criticism is in these minigames’ irrelevance to the story. At first glance, they don’t offer any meaningful progression. They are just fun, optional distractions to fill the open world environments.

Finally there is the critique that Rebirth ends unsatisfyingly, needlessly convoluted, and bogged down by a multiversal story that even I can admit went a little off the rails. While Remake depicts two parallel universes to tell a story about fate, Rebirth blows the door of the hinges, introducing infinite worlds and possibilities, threatening to make any action or moment meaningless.

All of these critiques are perfectly valid, and in many cases I agree with them. Bloated, meaningless open worlds, convoluted multiverse stories that often only exist to kill characters off and bring them back to life are damning critiques of any normal game that would convince me not to waste my time. Final Fantasy VII is not a normal game.

Rebirth, like Remake, has a unique mechanic. One that only a remake— and perhaps even a game as beloved and well known as FF7— can implement. The player knows the story. They know the twists and turns, the characters, their relationships, the tragedy. Aerith will die again. It became more and more clear that her time is still limited as I played Rebirth. These characters will go through the same tragedy as before, but this time we know it is coming. The development team knows we know and have mercifully filled the world with memories to be made. We don’t want Aerith to die, but she will. All we can do is make the most of the time we are given. So we can play a game of cards, learn piano, race chocobos. All of it is time spent with loved ones before it’s too late.

I chose to take that time. Knowing what was to come, I spent every moment I could with characters I love in a world I wanted to explore, and in doing so I created more memories for Cloud, Aerith, and the rest of the party. I could do so with the benefit of hindsight. The mechanic of knowing.

This is the true justification for the remake. This is why we retell, reimagine, recontextualize myths and legends, even when they end in tragedy. Every time we start to retell it, we are reminded of hope. We can feel it, like a train. We can aspire to that feeling, even if we believe it will end in tragedy.

To change the tragic fate of Aerith Gainsborough would be to fundamentally change the themes of Final Fantasy 7. While remakes that re-contextualize and modernize the original are valid as interpretations, Rebirth opts to do this in a different way. It plays on our understanding of the 1997 FF7 and our desire to rewrite the past. In stripping away our hope after the promise of a new outcome we are reminded of our powerlessness in the face of death— it cannot be stopped. But to lose hope, there has to be hope. Something to live, fight, and play for. It forces us to contemplate, then, not just the end where death is inevitable but all that comes before. If we know Aerith will die and she will always die, suddenly the plethora of minigames and checklists strewn about Rebirth’s open world become more than just filler. It is all just a little more time spent with people you love while you still can.

“It’s a sad song

But we keep singin’ even so

It’s an old, old, old tale from way back when

And we’re gonna sing it again and again

We’re gonna sing it again.”

-Hadestown

Leave a comment

The biggest scandal in Pokémon shiny hunting history was in 2021 when two different streamers encountered a double Starter-Starly shiny almost back to back. This happened the week of Christmas when paid subscriptions and viewership tend to be higher than average due to school closures and “the season of giving” as it were.

That was a lot of words so let me explain: Pokémon means Pocket Monster and they have about a 1 in 4000 chance of having a rare color scheme. Some players, shiny hunters, spend hours and hours hunting these rare variations. In Pokemon’s latest releases at the time, Brilliant Diamond and Shining Pearl, the first shiny players have a chance to encounter is their chosen “Starter” Pokémon as well as the impossible-to-catch Starly they’ll see in the opening tutorial. The odds of both of these Pokémon being shiny at the same time is what statisticians refer to as “impossible for Josh Vasquez to calculate.” Despite the astronomical odds, the indomitable human spirit persevered. Twice. A few days apart.

Huh.

This piece was inspired by this better one by Jake Steinberg on the hyperreality of shiny Pokémon. Please give it a read!

Shiny Pokémon Don't Exist Anymore

The clips of the reactions to these encounters garnered millions of views and were reported on widely by gaming culture sites. In the second of these instances, the streamer encourages viewers to subscribe because “I’m different.” Less than a week later we would get the apology videos for the faked shiny using a modified Nintendo Switch.

Viewers were upset, feeling duped into believing the streamer’s over the top excitement, and in some cases shelling out $5 for a subscription on Twitch. The shiny, the reactions, the clips, the Tweets were all just a performance orchestrated by the streamers to generate excitement, attract viewers, and gain revenue.

Hey, isn’t that kinda like—

Streamers on Twitch or YouTube can’t be compared one to one to more traditional entertainment, but their promotion and consumption works in similar ways. An actor in a TV show can say something outrageous to generate headlines, a character’s death can light social media aflame, John Cena can turn on Cody Rhodes.

We can “boo” John Cena knowing full well he will be starring as a lovable, funny body guard of some sort a year later because of “kayfabe”— the acceptance of the fictional character and scenario as reality, and conversely, that the reality being presented is a constructed work of fiction. When a shiny hunter on stream exclaims, “NO WAY! LET’S GO!” at a yellow chicken, that’s kayfabe.

Between 2016 and 2019, I was one of these professional shiny hunters. The most excited I ever was about a shiny was my first one ever, a shiny Pikipek live on stream. My heart leapt, and my genuine reaction was stunned silence, another term for a bad clip. As I found more shiny Pokémon I was less and less excited, and my performance grew and grew. The clips got better. I can speak to my experience as a shiny hunter but this performance exists across the streaming medium. See tyler1 dropping a full plate of chicken parmesan, then Hungrybox later dropping an entire pizza. Where these performances can truly fail is in their unoriginality. There is such a thing as bad performance art, after all. The second impossible double shiny didn’t make the first less fake, it just wasn’t exciting anymore, and suspicion arose to make it so. When tyler1 awkwardly presents a plate of chicken in an unnatural way, clumsily tipping it little by little until it falls, its a clever bit of kayfabe— a funny moment to generate a viral clip for his stream. When another streamer follows suit, it is simply a trend within the competitive gamer streaming sub-category.

As audience and streamer, we are all better off acknowledging the kayfabe within the medium. Authenticity has long been the backbone of content marketing, but authenticity need not be absent in performance. Between exciting shiny encounters (which for me happened much less frequently than others in the community of Pokémon streamers), in the slog of seeing Pokémon after Pokémon is where I found the most genuine interaction. This is where I built community, spoke out about my views, had real conversations. This is why it’s important that kayfabe works both ways. It is a shared responsibility to acknowledge the separation between the real and the performed. We can better appreciate streaming as the art it truly is: big, exciting, sometimes calculated moments strung together by a shared communal experience.

My wife, whom I may not know if not for my time as a professional shiny hunter, will sometimes call me out. “You said that in your streamer voice,” she’ll say at the dinner table. Perhaps it was a habit I developed. Something I put on to generate the thing that would attract the most praise. In streaming, this is simply how the game is played and the excitement generated, even if predetermined, is real. By acknowledging the kayfabe in streaming, we can better enjoy the art, and streamers can better creatively express themselves through their performance, hopefully with less fear of the worst tendencies of parasocial viewers. That is the future of streaming I look forward to. More over the top, hilarious, heartfelt, inspiring moments understood as the performances they are.

At the end of my time streaming, what I have left are the clips, each an exaggerated persona to punctuate the end of a long shiny hunt, but still dear memories. Performing on stream, writing a newsletter, or any other creative endeavors I may have had each convey a fiction, a morphed version of life as it truly is but with real pieces of myself sewn in. I put on the streamer voice less and less, separating myself from the streamer I once played, but the persona lives in the clips made along the way, and the memories attached to them.

Subscribe now

Subscribe now

“JOSHUA!”

That’s my name! Imagine my delight to find that Final Fantasy XVI’s protagonist, Clive, would scream this hundreds of times throughout the game to his younger brother, Joshua!

Clive and Joshua come from a royal family, sons of a just and noble king. Joshua, though the youngest, is the heir to their fathers throne because he is a Dominant, a powerful magic wielder chosen by the gods themselves to harness their power and take on their forms as needed. Joshua holds the power of the mighty Phoenix. Their mother greatly favors Joshua for this reason but none of this gets in the way of the brothers being very close. Early into the game, Clive completes his training to be Joshua’s sworn shield— his protector.

This happens just in time, too, because their castle is invaded almost immediately. In the chaos, Clive and the king try to get Joshua to safety but the king is made vulnerable and assassinated in front of them.

Joshua, a child with a powerful god inside of him, transforms into the mighty Phoenix to protect his kingdom. He flies off raining fiery justice on their invaders while Clive begins to suffer a terrible headache— a headache named Ifrit. Clive transforms into the powerful fire demon, revealing to himself for the first time that he, too, is a Dominant. Unable to control his new power however, he goes after the Phoenix.

The two engage in a clash of massive proportions, slinging fireballs and punches as they soar over the castle. In the end, Ifrit overtakes the Phoenix, Joshua. Clive, conscious from inside Ifrit but unable to intervene, watches the endless barrage of punches his own body throws against his brother. He screams and cries, begs himself to stop, to no avail. Ifrit, Clive, rips through the Phoenix, Joshua’s lifeless body with a final fiery punch. All he can do is scream: “I swore I would protect him! JOSHUA!”

Then the demo ends.

I wouldn’t pick up the full version of FFXVI for another couple months. It allowed me to sit in Clive’s guilt, and process his emotions in that final scene. It’s a contemplativeness that I would yearn for again as I played the rest of the game. In the full game we then jump 13 years later. Clive conceals his identity and lives as a mercenary, running from his past certain no one would understand or forgive him if they knew the truth. Least of all himself. Having experienced the weight of his actions along with him, including a time gap between that moment and the current, his anger took on a fullness, a realness to me like few other games. I understood Clive’s anger, his contempt for himself, and his readiness to keep running and fighting. He would do anything to just forget. This would be the last time Final Fantasy XVI would make me feel this way.

XVI is a fast game in every sense of the word. Compared to every other Final Fantasy game, it’s combat is breakneck with combo flurries and magical abilities available with simple button presses. This is a far cry from the turn-based combat of traditional Final Fantasy games. This could be seen as a simplification in and of itself but not all action RPGs need be simple. Unfortunately, however, this is the case as most all combat encounters can be completed by simply mashing the attack button until you stagger the enemy and then unleashing all of your magical abilities at once, rinse, and repeat.

Worst of all, XVI gives no time between lofty emotional scenes such as the one at the end of the demo. There are no moments of reprieve, of contemplation, which greatly impacted my enjoyment and connection to the demo and Clive as a character. That moment was artificial. Had I played the game start to finish without trying the demo first and giving myself time in between, the game would have carried on at this pace even from the start. Would I have felt the same way going straight into the game with no down time? No, I would not, as evidenced by the other similar moments throughout the game which all fell flat.

For example, about 15-20 hours in (still firmly in the first act of this 60+ hour experience), Clive wrestles with accepting his actions. For 13 years he placed the blame on Ifrit, the fire demon which he could not control. He was possessed and therefor free of responsibility. All that time, he spent in search of the demon who had done this and vowed to have his revenge, ultimately to find that it was within him. As much as he tried to run and deny that fact, it wouldn’t change. A dramatic, symbolic, and, yes, fiery battle ensues between Clive the person and Ifrit, also Clive. The battle’s are impactful and emotional, as Clive first battles Ifrit as a means of revenge. Then, Ifrit becomes a dark version of Clive himself and the battle becomes about Clive fighting the demons of his own past and the parts of himself he hates. Finally, Clive realizes he can only make it out of this fight by calling on the powers of Ifrit as he wraps himself in flowing embers, symbolizing the acceptance of himself, his past, and his guilt. The final phase is a blazing fast power trip as Clive unleashes the full fury of over a decade of repressed emotion! In a final cathartic blow, Clive cries out and demolishes the demons of his past, the music crescendos, full acceptance and forgiveness of self is in reach! Then mid celebration:

The number of times a climactic, emotionally resonant moment is interrupted by my XP and loot gained from the video game fight is all of them. One hundred percent of the time, this victory screen assaults your view, halting any opportunity to feel the emotions of the characters. It is as if the game itself is at odds with Clive’s emotional progression. It acts fully counter to the internal conflict Clive is tasked with confronting: feeling, contemplating, and accepting, and replaces it with “Spoils.”

There was a part of me that thought this had to be on purpose the more it continued to happen, that there was some reason for it. It’s true by the end that God (yes, that God, the creator of the universe) is in fact trying to hinder Clive’s emotions to make him an empty vessel for his return, but somehow I don’t think he’s doing this by showing me how much money and skill points I just gained.

The video game simply video games way too hard, and to make matters worse, the game is simplified enough as to render most of your “Spoils” useless. Leveling is automatic, all equipment upgrades linearly so there are no actual choices to be made with your spoils. It is all for nothing.

Clive shows real growth throughout Final Fantasy XVI, learning to forgive himself, accept himself, and allowing others the opportunity to do the same. He turns his guilt to motivation to help the people around him and he becomes a beacon of hope for a growing community in the midst of chaos and war. I don’t get the feeling the developers took their own advice on this, constantly undermining their own messaging with what can uncharitably be seen as pop-up windows, blocking your view of the true emotion on screen.

Those first hours in the demo still stick with me. It’s a powerful hook that’s squandered over and over, pummeled to the ground with fiery firsts as I scream helplessly for them to stop. As Clive continues to develop deep bonds with the rest of the characters of the game, Jill, Cid, Gav, and (surprise) Joshua (the Phoenix. Should’ve seen that one coming), they continue to be interrupted by loot, spoils, things. They are petty distractions covering the heart of the game, like Clive locked inside the powerful Ifrit exterior. Therein lies the motif: acceptance of the whole, good and bad, but if Final Fantasy XVI truly accepted itself, it wouldn’t need to hide behind these video game trappings.

Share

The city is under attack! Team Rocket have swarmed Goldenrod City and taken over the old radio tower. For years the organized crime group had been relegated to the fringes after the disappearance of their leader Giovanni, but during the radio takeover, everyone from the Pokemon world would turn on their radios in horror to hear an endless loop: “Team Rocket have returned. Giovanni, please come back to us.”

The plea, broadcast throughout the Pokemon world was heard by Team Rocket members of all ranks. Giovanni himself hears from his place of hiding and contemplates his next move. Our generation 2 rival, Silver, hears the call and vows to stop Team Rocket with an unknown, personal vendetta.

A lowly grunt worker who joined Team Rocket when he had no one else lay waiting in Cerulean City for a sign of his leader’s return. When he hears the call, hope restores in his heart, having lost the only semblance of a family he ever had. He makes his way to the region of Unova to gather new support for his leader.

Each Pokemon game has its own “evil team” the player must contend with, usually with a charismatic figurehead at the top. In Generations 1 and 2, that figure is Giovanni, the leader of Team Rocket who’s disappearance at the end of generation 1 leaves the rest of the team’s members directionless, disorganized, and alone. Giovanni is not only a powerful crime boss but also a highly regarded and respected figure in the Pokemon world. As the eighth and final Gym Leader of the Pokemon League, he is tasked with arguably one of the most important roles in the Pokemon world. He is the final test for young trainers hoping to face the Elite Four (an exceptionally strong group of four trainers, as the name implies), and become champion. Within the Pokemon world, this is essentially school, as battling and training Pokemon are its most important economic forces. So yes, Giovanni is a corrupt government official and without him, Team Rocket loses all legitimacy and power.

Even more than his government power, however, Giovanni’s underlings are dedicated fully to his cause and him. Those who carried on after his exile and built up their forces in a new region loved Giovanni. This new uprising is led by Archer, an executive of Team Rocket who’s fanaticism was so strong he continued to believe Team Rocket would never disband long after the defeat of Giovanni. When he finally accepts the truth, he vows Team Rocket will return with Giovanni as their leader. Archer writes this in a letter from inside the now empty office of Giovanni, but afraid of how it might make him look— how his fanaticism might be perceived— he destroys it.

Three years later, his plan comes to fruition. Archer and the remains of Team Rocket send out the radio signal pleading to Giovanni to come back to them. This was their ultimate plan. Not to conquer the world, infiltrate the Pokemon League, or even gain wealth. Their plan was to get their leader back and nothing more. So when that call went unanswered, there was no fallback, and no direction, only the pain of abandonment by their beloved leader yet again.

Archer and the disaffected team are defeated by us, the player, and our rival, Silver, who three years prior made a similar plea to his father, Giovanni, not to go into exile. Not because he believed in Team Rocket and its return, but because he, a young boy, needed his dad. Again, Giovanni ignored the plea, abandoning his son and Team Rocket all at once.

These “leaders,” the charismatic figureheads of a movement, all exhibit the same characteristics. For one, they often misunderstand their own power. Is Giovanni a successful leader because he is charismatic and offers something of value to his followers? Or was he already in a position of power at the Pokemon League, regularly in contact with aspiring trainers eager for their shot at glory, making them easy targets for manipulation? Giovanni is happy to take a backseat in his own organization, gaining the support of impressionable trainers through the legitimacy of the Pokemon League, while his followers do the actual crime. They are left to hold the bag. Giovanni is protected from a legal standpoint, but within his personal relationships, he will always put himself first. He can’t even validate his own son’s pain as he leaves him.

Children become an interesting piece of the charismatic figurehead puzzle. They are at once a tool and a nuisance. More young people coming up through the Pokemon League means more potential followers (or workers). Giovanni would like to think even his own son could be one of them. However, the responsibility of the wellbeing of children is one they would rather ignore.

Giovanni can so easily go into hiding, abandoning his son and followers who feel an undying love and loyalty to him, because he does not feel the same about them. They were tools, pawns used to his own ends. When he left, he left them with the responsibility of building the team again. Their team, which brought them purpose, or so they thought, when they were searching for their place in the world at a young age.

A lowly Team Rocket grunt heard the call over the radio and made his way to Unova to build support for a renewed Team Rocket. In a small town called Icirrus, he met a woman and fell in love. He realized it was a love he hadn’t felt before, certainly not from the likes of Giovanni. All Giovanni had left him with was abandonment and an unanswered radio message. Years later with a wife and child and a small home south of Icirrus town he had what he always wanted. Not a leader, but a Team.