Archive for July, 2012

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Television Review: My First Episode of The Newsroom

The Newsroom has the dubious distinction of immediately following True Blood on HBO Canada’s Sunday night line-up. Normally the psychic assault of that stupid vampire show, which I only watch to facilitate ruthless evisceration around people who swear it’s the second coming of Lost, leaves me desiring a large scotch and a good book to read. With this week’s True Blood combing the bowels of banality and self-reference to the point that it has become almost beneath my contempt, I decided to jump headlong into The Newsroom.

About twenty minutes into the sixth episode of the series’ freshman season I asked aloud, “Isn’t this supposed to be a serious drama?”

Since I fully intended to watch the show from the beginning, I’ve avoided any extensive reviews of the series. My only foreknowledge was in the form of  August C. Bourre’s tweets and this one trailer.

 

I expected Sorkin’s old media take on Gibbon’s The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. I wanted it to be Sports Night featuring Jeff Daniels as an amalgam of Dan Rydell, Casey McCall and Dr. Gregory House. What I saw was something unexpected.

Certainly The Newsroom doesn’t have the screwball comedy of Sports Night. But it does have banter, really good banter. Yet that banter never comes at the expense of actual issues. Case in point: there’s nothing funny about Will McAvoy’s on-air defence of Islam leading to credible death threats against his person. Nor is there anything amusing in discussing the Fukushima nuclear plant meltdown. Within The Newsroom, the comedy is never in the news. Rather it’s in the writing and timing that turns 75% of the cast’s conversations about news production into sniping matches between co-workers. After only one episode, I can’t tell if The Newsroom is a journalism satire that draws on office comedy tropes, or a giant meta-mechanism for criticizing our culture’s relationship with information and ideas.

A case could certainly be made for either argument. Within this week’s episode, Will formulates a plan to restore civil discourse to the internet by stripping the anonymity from the comments section on ACN’s website. Framed as the last angry liberal (even though he’s a registered Republican), Will McAvoy puts the hubris of white privilege into perspective when interviewing a former Rick Santorum aide, who just happens to be both black and gay. Will also manages to hold fellow journalist Sloan Sabbith (played by Olivia Munn) to task for not pressing harder in interviews when she knows her guest is lying. There’s an aura of validity to all of Will’s ideas. Yet his best intentions lead to personal strife for all involved, and outright calamity for Sloan when her attempts to be aggressive lead to her making up the news. Though if we turn back to comedy for a moment, the aftermath of Sloan’s on-air attack against a spokesman for the company managing the Fukushima disaster leads to what is possibly the greatest chewing out that Sam Waterston has ever delivered.

I suppose, then, a better question to ask is if Will McAvoy’s reaction to internet culture, lowest common denominator politics, and the 24-hour news cycle is meant to criticize the aforementioned aspects of modernity, or showcase the futility of trying to change these unfortunately ubiquitous elements of life?

With Daniels commanding half the episode’s story, Olivia Munn’s character occupied much of the remainder. In short, I was damn impressed with her work. As I never watched Attack of the Show and only ever caught two of her Daily Show bits, I can’t say that I have much of a baseline for Olivia Munn’s talents. I have heard a lot about her, however. Indeed, I remember the absolute shit storm of chauvinism that shadowed her when she became a Daily Show correspondent. I also recall some ersatz controversy about her cosplaying as slave Leia. Perhaps the world has moved past those issues, perhaps not; if it hasn’t, the acting chops that Munn displays in The Newsroom must be seen as a giant middle finger to the trolls and critics who spent so much time and energy running her down. Heartbreaking is the only word that describes Munn’s performance after she throws an old friend under the bus in pursuit of McAvoy’s impossible standards of journalistic integrity. If this one episode is representative of her entire performance in the series, I wouldn’t be surprised to see a best supporting Emmy nomination in her future.

So after an hour of watching The Newsroom, here is my take away. Daniels and Munn are fantastic; the show is worth watching if for no other reason than seeing these two talented actors work. Sam Waterston as television’s answer to Perry White is magnificent. The drama is punctuated with comedy that finds humour in news production, rather than the delivery of said news. While the series seems somewhat less charming than Sports Night, it’s no less witty. Most important, to me at least, The Newsroom works with the big ideas of the day, but doesn’t attempt to package answers to questions therein with a thirty-minutes-or-it’s-free delivery – save for a clear hostility toward Rick Santorum and his retrograde ideas.

Now to watch the first five episodes and see if my theories hold up.


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Podcast Episode 22: Chatting With the Job Hunters

Featuring the voices of Adam Shaftoe, Forest Gibson, Kristina Horner, and Tara Theoharis.

Topics under discussion include:

-   A primer on Job Hunters.

-   Dystopian, roommate, comedy…How? Why?

-   Working in web media.

-   Unicorns.

-   Expert techniques in starship command and Chatroulette

My thanks again to Forest, Kristina, and Tara for taking the time to come and talk to me.

Make sure to check out the first episode Job Hunters below.

Head over to http://www.watchjobhunters.com/ for news and updates about the series.

 

Cold Intro Music: The Lady of Vastness by Dan-O at DanoSongs.com

Theme music: Bionic Commando stage 4 (Dale vs Wray mix) (NecroPolo) / CC BY-NC-SA 3.0


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The Thin Plaid Line of Negative Reviews

In recent months, I’ve heard a great many thoughts on negative reviews. I’ll credit one of the best ideas to both Ryan Oakley, author Technicolour Ultra Mall, and Leah Petersen, author of Fighting Gravity. During a panel on criticism at Ad Astra 2012, a panel moderated by yours truly, both Oakley and Petersen suggested that leaving an inferior novel/film/game/whatever to languish in obscurity can sometimes be a better course of action than constructing a negative, albeit fair, review.

At that same convention I had a quick conversation with Sandra Kasturi, co-editor of ChiZine Publications, on the subject of criticism. Therein, she told me a critic should not be afraid to speak their mind as it is their job to assign value to a given work.

When I began writing reviews I found guidance in the writings of W.H. Auden, who framed criticism as something most useful when it calls attention to things worth attending to.

In an alternate timeline where I’m a “professional” critic, in the sense that I work for a publication and use words which elucidate critical thought for a living, I think it would be easy to craft the above mentioned philosophies into a set of grand critical principles. As an “amateur” critic, the issue is slightly more complicated.

Where “professional” critics are always going to receive gratis review materials, not to mention a fortified buffer zone from the subject under review via their publication, the amateur critic’s inclusion in the great game is dependent upon the good will of the publishers. Thus the “amateur” must broach the thin plaid line of negative reviews. In theory, a well crafted review, either positive or negative, speaks to the talent, experience, and ability of the critic in question. In reality, the publisher-critic relationship is about advertising, and no publisher is going to want to work with an “amateur” who makes one of their authors/game studios/clients look like a douche.

So that’s when you default to something that resembles the aforementioned Petersen-Oakley approach of occasionally leaving bad things to rot without comment, right?

Well, maybe. If a critic receives unsolicited review materials, they have every right to say thanks but no thanks. I did that once when a porn studio asked me to review one of their movies.

However, if said critic opts not to put pen to paper, then they probably aren’t going to see anything in the future from that publisher. To my previous example, nobody from the adult entertainment industry has solicited me since I said no to writing a detailed review of their Spartacus porno. (Come on, what would I say in a porn review? Offer commentary on the grunting and thrusting?)

If a critic asks a publisher for a review copy of a book/game/whatever, there’s an implicit, bordering on explicit, expectation that the work in question is going to get reviewed. A failure to complete the transaction on the part of the critic will likely yield the same result as producing a negative review: the end of the association between critic and publisher.

The equation is further complicated when self-published authors and independent productions enter the fray. Suppose a self-published author sends an “amateur” critic their debut novel. The critic then uses their review to demonstrate the inherent flaws of the text, warning potential readers away from investments in time and money. Under the Kasturi model, the critic has done their job. In theory, this is a good thing. In reality, a person who can write has held a person who can’t write to task for their inability to write. Some people (friends, family, fans of the author in question, and bored internet trolls) might be inclined to label that sort of treatment as a very public bullying.

Scenarios such as these contribute to what I see as a troublesome culture of positivity among the ranks of “amateur” critics. Beyond tiring both body and mind with a perpetual good will truffle-shuffle, this positive culture can cripple an “amateur” critic’s transition into the “professional” realm. Ask yourself this, how long would a New York Times book critic last if they loved everything? Would Ebert still be writing film reviews for the Chicago Sun Times if he praised every movie? Such a perpetually positive critic would quickly forfeit their perceived position as arbiter of taste, instead becoming something of a fanboy/girl, or worse, a paid stooge. Why would any editor want to hire such a writer? Furthermore, and even if people don’t want to admit it, readers love a scathing review.

A good negative review, that is to say one that knows how to challenge art without attacking the artist, is a spectacle in and of itself. It’s the reader-writer equivalent of a trip to the Coliseum. The negative review allows opportunities for revelling in collective contempt; those requiring evidence on that point should check the view count on Gilbert Gottfried’s reading from Fifty Shades of Grey. Similarly, the negative review can turn fans of the lampooned work into the most fervent advocates. At that point, a debate about the quality of the work often becomes a secondary concern. The focus shifts to proving the critic wrong and in the process mobilizing/recruiting others to that end. Go ahead and call out Stephenie Meyer and see just how quickly the Twihards assemble and more importantly proselytize. The same could be said for Community fans – myself among them. Say something bad about Dan Harmon within earshot of me and I’ll spend the next twenty minutes explaining why he is a visionary.

 

Thus we return to the Petersen-Oakley model where the bad review still promotes the work in question. Despite that reality, and the truism that any press is good press, there exists a limiting structure that shifts dominion over negative reviews to “professional” critics. The internet may have mobilized an army of well trained and highly skilled “amateurs”, but those critics risk biting the hand that feeds them should they dare to do their jobs and write like “professionals”.


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Writing Without Word and a New Ending to Tron Legacy

Some time ago, I can’t quite say when, somebody, I can’t recall who, put an idea in my head. It was the sort of idea that was so simple I couldn’t believe I had not thought of it before. At the same time, this idea was so grand that it had the capacity to drastically change how I do a lot of my writing. What was this magical moment of near-incpetion?

I don’t have to use Microsoft Word to do all my writing.

I know that might not sound like much, but it’s quite the revelation for me. I’ve been using Word, in some iteration or another, since 1997. If I include everything I’ve written since then (two years of high school papers, undergraduate and graduate degrees in the humanities/social sciences, countless short stories, one play, a half dozen published op-ed pieces, two unpublished novels, one-hundred fifty posts on my old blog, three-hundred fifty posts here, and more cover letters than I care to count) I’ve probably produced at least a million words with Microsoft’s flagship word processor. The very notion that I could use something else seems…wrong. Wrong in the sense that people thought a heliocentric view of the universe was wrong.

Recently though, my faith in Word has been faltering. My doubts began during the 2011 NaNoWriMo. Once my novel got up to about 30,000 words in length, Word would take an age to buffer the entire document. Gods help me if I wanted to find a specific chapter. Sure, I could have broken up each chapter into a separate file, but who has the time for that? After a bit of public whinging, a few writers I know recommended trying Scrivener. Today, I gave it a test drive. The results were quite promising.

Rather than transplanting a section of my novel, I decided to test out Scrivener’s script writing functionality. Compared to Celtx, the program I dread to use when I want to work on a screenplay, Scrivener is a dream. I barely need to take my hands off the key board to shift from character names to dialogue to scene direction. Where Celtx offers a constant battle with a brainless spell check, Scrivener doesn’t flag character names when, out of instinct, I type them with a capitalized first letter. Perhaps most impressive, so far, is Scrivener’s ability to lend itself to collaboration. With Celtx a screenplay must be edited in Celtx. The only option for export is PDF file. Scrivener will compile and export a project into any industry standard file format, including Word files. This is the sort of program that makes me want to finish the final edits on the first season of my space opera radio play.

While I don’t anticipate giving up Word for academic papers, work documents, and article length non-fiction. I can’t imagine trying to do my next long project in anything other than Scrivener. As for short fiction, that remains a grey area. I can see some benefits to using Scrivener, if only for organizing character information and back story that doesn’t appear in the actual finished product, but I don’t quite know if they outweigh the convenience of banging out a couple thousand words in Word from hand written notes. As for screenplays, well I’ll let my revised ending to Tron: Legacy speak to that.

Click here to download a copy of the PDF


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Novella Review: Alien Apocalypse: Genesis

Alien Apocalypse: Genesis is the third release in UK author Dean Giles’ series of alien invasion novellas. The second published story, Alien Apocalypse: The Hunger is actually prequel to the first story Alien Apocalypse: The Storm. The Storm, which I had the pleasure of reviewing when it first came out, introduces readers to the series’ protagonist Leon Weber, an ex-convict sentenced to four years in prison when he inadvertently killed the man who had just murdered his wife. Two weeks before Leon’s release, a comet burns up in the Earth’s atmosphere. Unfortunately for humanity, the comet housed an alien plant that quickly takes seed on Earth and begins Terraforming our world and all animal life there upon. Genesis begins immediately where The Storm ends; Leon and his son Elliot are intent on finding a way to weaponize a stockpile of crude oil, seemingly the only thing that kills the alien plant.

When I first reviewed The Storm, I likened the efficiency of the plant invasion to that of the Martians in H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds. This story, which sees father and son walking down stretches of abandoned roads in the south of England amid widespread environmental destruction, echoes a science fiction take on Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. Thankfully, Giles’ work is not nearly as gloomy or pessimistic as that of Mr. McCarthy’s.

Where an argument could be made that The Storm is perhaps too heavy in its world building, Genesis offers much more in the way of a focused narrative. Scenes alternate between Leon’s first person narration and that of the other worldly consciousness that is driving the invasion. For the first time in this series, Leon is at a disadvantage compared to the reader. While I initially thought that the alien perspective tipped a bit too much of the author’s hand with respect to the series’ eventual endgame, I can not deny that the extra knowledge, on my part, added something special to the overall experience. Toward the end of Genesis I almost caught myself yelling at Leon for not figuring out what I already deduced. That sort of reader-character engagement is worth an extra scant paragraph or two of exposition.

Despite being titled Alien Apocalypse, Genesis explores themes a reader would expect to find contained within a standard human apocalypse. In a scene that once again finds common ground with The Road, Elliot insists on leaving a group of thugs with some food after their failed attempt to rob him and Leon. When the father-son team discover survivors that appear to be slavers it is Elliot who insists on a rescue mission, while Leon is content to move on and leave the people to their fate.

There’s a moral absolutism to the child character that is annoying to the point where I want him to get dissolved by the green alien moss. Yet Elliot’s altruism is a necessary tool in stripping away some of the lustre in Leon’s nature. In fact, Leon takes a few distinct steps toward being an anti-hero within Genesis. Even though keeping Elliot safe is at the forefront of Leon’s actions, he’s not beyond threatening, almost bullying, behaviour when provoked to anger. When a rescued slave offers herself sexually to Leon, his moralizing about respect for his dead wife’s memory melts away just a little too quickly. Leon proudly reflects that he will never become a user of people, but he is at the very least an opportunist. The personality shift is, however, necessary to maintaining the story’s integrity. Without some pliability in his personal morality, Leon would be little more than a super heroic caricature. With the exception of The Avengers, aliens and super heroes don’t often mix.

Problems with Alien Apocalypse: Genesis emerge not in the story, but in its narration. While Giles has created a fantastic story, he is at times guilty of playing “show and tell” with his readers. In one particular scene Leon and Elliot are arguing over a course of action. Built on strong dialogue and scant narrative details, the father-son animosity is palpable. But where the paragraph should end it goes on to point out that Elliot was getting sarcastic with his father, despite the lad’s obvious attitude. This game of “show and tell”, which I think speaks more toward the author’s concerns for clarity rather than a presumption about the audience’s ability to grasp the context of a situation, happens periodically throughout the novella. It’s not a deal breaker, but it is noticeable.

As a 19,000 word novella, Alien Apocalypse: Genesis is priced quite well at $2 USD. While there are some obvious motifs in play from the likes of Cormac McCarthy and Jack Finney, Genesis is a well paced and creative despite some shortcomings in the prose.

Alien Apocalypse: Genesis is written by Dean Giles. It is available as an e-book from TWB Press.


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Gears of War: Judgement – A Missed Opportunity?

Gears of War Judgement promises more of the same, now with 50% more snark and 60% more of the only black guy in the game.

For a moment, let us ignore the likely future where everybody who owns an XBox 360 is going buy the fourth installment in the Gears of War franchise. And while we’re employing our cognitive dissonance, we might as well disregard the obvious fact that a fourth Gears game, from a narrative point of view, is nothing but naval gazing. I could also point out that prequels are generally an indication of creative bankruptcy within a property, but that might belabour a point that better people than me have made a long time ago.

Make no mistake, I do not begrudge Epic a chance to make more money with an established brand. And mark my words; Epic is going to make money with Gears 4, if only out of consumer loyalty. Yet as a fan of the series, and somebody who even read a Gears of War novel, this new game seems like a missed chance to shift the focus of Gears while maintaining its spirit.

In the scant calms between bouts of gunfire, the Gears of War trilogy offers a compelling story of redemption and loss. Marcus Fenix’s introduction is that of an ex-convict who had been left to rot in a military prison for putting loyalty to family above loyalty to the state. Dominic Santiago, Marcus’ best friend, begins as a man on a quest to discover the fate of a wife lost to the vicissitudes of war. By the end of the second Gears of War game, these quests are resolved. Therein the story of the third Gears game is that of a search for purpose.

*Spoiler ahead for Gears of War 3*

Arguably neither of the two main characters are able to find a purpose in life. Despite winning the day, Marcus ends Gears 3 as an accomplice to the Locust genocide. As he strips off his armour, Marcus admits to fellow Gear Anya Stroud that he doesn’t know what to do without the fighting. Dom’s fate is found somewhere between heroic sacrifice and suicide, probably closer to the latter. In finding his wife’s mind and body shattered by Locust torture in Gears 2, Dom effectively loses the one thing that kept him fighting.

Yes, there is senseless gunplay in the Gears franchise. And yes, there is a lot of blue collar dialogue from Delta Squad. However, beneath its base trappings, Gears of War is one of digital media’s foremost war stories. Rather than undermining the narrative authenticity of these two characters, a smart decision, Epic is shifting the focus of Gears of War: Judgement to Delta Squad’s two other members: Damon Baird and Augustus Cole. The potential problem is that Baird and the Cole-Train don’t quite fit the established character model.

The most obvious incongruity with Gears: Judgement is Delta’s favourite misanthrope being billed as Lieutenant Damon Baird. Gears of War has always been a war story told from the “working man’s” point of view. Lieutenant Kim, Delta Squad’s commanding officer in Gears 1, dies at the end of the first act. From then on out, Marcus, a mere Sergeant in the Coalition of Ordered Governments’ Army (COG for short), acts as Delta’s leader. The narrative pay off in such a decision is that the player is always as much in the dark, with respect to the larger scope of the war, as the game’s central characters. Hearing the taciturn Colonel Hoffman tell Marcus that something is “need to know” becomes a shared experience between gamer and character. Maintaining that shared experience with Lt. Baird may prove a difficult proposition as officers by their very nature know more about strategic matters than the men under their command. Not to mention this casting might seem a retread of established motifs given that Gears: Judgement will tell the story of Baird and Cole’s fall from the COG’s grace. We’ve already explored redemption as a conceit with Marcus, is it going to work a second time with Baird? Are players going to empathize with Cole, a millionaire sports star turned fighting man due an “alien” invasion? I hate to say it, but I’m not convinced that Cole has the chops to be anything other than comic relief.

Redemption also misses an opportunity to tell a story set before Emergence Day. Prior to the Locust’s attack, Sera was a planet divided between two supra-national entities, the Coalition of Ordered Governments and the Union of Independent Republics. We know from game lore that these two entities fought a series of conflicts known as the Pendulum Wars. The details of those conflicts are scant save for references to resource scarcity and control of the super fuel known as Immulsion. In fact, other than the Gears of War novels, the canonicity of which are up for debate, what little gamers know of Sera’s back story is gleamed through in-game ephemera. Propaganda posters nailed to crumbling walls, overheard conversations, and throwaway references hint at the world that existed before the Locust’s emergence. Nothing would say, “the same but different” like bringing the oft hinted at pre-Locust world of Gears of War to life. Then again, maybe only political science geeks and history nerds would want to know about the Cold War conflicts that happened before the underground monster apocalypse.

In the end, Gears may always be a man versus monster experience; if only because chainsaw bayonets are a monstrous weapon when used on a human. It’s easy to feel mighty chopping up an over sized Locust drone. Gears draws quite heavily on the classic “alien other will unite mankind” theme as seen in novels like Starship Troopers. But are the dogmatic and geopolitical differences between the COG and UIR sufficient to merit battlefield butchery? Probably not. If that’s the case, it’s probably a better business investment to keep treading the same ground for a profit, then risking jeers for neutering the combat experience just to push the franchise’s fictional frontiers.


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Movie Review: Agora

After screening Agora one question stood out in my mind among all the others: How much flak did this film catch after its 2009 release? Why would I ask such a thing? Primarily because Agora is to Christianity as The Passion of Christ is to Jews. Well, maybe not quite as overt as Mr. Gibson’s opus, but not so far off, either. In fairness, Agora holds the Pagans of fourth century Alexandria to task as much as it does the city’s Christian and Jewish population. After a cursory google search revealed no significant front page controversy, I can only speculate that not enough people cared about a Spanish made film that focused on the life of an Egyptian female astronomer to justify any wide spread outrage. Quite the shame, really, as Agora is the sort of film that demands discussion.

Agora is a story told in two acts. The first act concerns the destruction of the Great Library of Alexandria. Compared to Alexandria’s agora, where mobs of Christians gather to harangue the city’s Pagan population, the Library, and its surrounding walled suburb, is a bastion of civilization and tolerance. Hypatia (Rachel Weisz), as librarian and professor, teaches students of all faiths that there is more uniting them than dividing them – a sentiment that is echoed throughout the film. Too bad the even handed Hypatia’s idealism never amounts to anything in the face of constant persecution and bloodshed.

Say what you will for the rest of the film’s historical authenticity, Agora is true to form in its understanding of the relationship between Christianity and Roman culture. The stoic Hypatia and her father keep a number of household slaves. One of those slaves, Davus (Max Minghella), finds himself torn between his love for Hypatia and the freedom that Christianity promises. Under the tutelage an outspoken Christian named Cyril (Sami Samir), Davus begins to see the inherent inequity in the Roman system. In this, the film illustrates that Christianity was not just about venerating Christ, but also a convenient dogma for mobilizing the urban poverty that propped up Roman civilization.

Act one comes to a head as the followers of Serapis, patron god of the Great Library, form a mob to attack the Christians for past affronts to Alexandria’s Pagan population. From this one act of violence springs an all out riot that sees the Christians, greater in number than any of the Pagans could have imagined (Roman hubris at its finest), besiege the Library. Roman Legionaries manage to hold back the Christian mob until the Emperor orders that the Pagans be pardoned for their role in the riot. As compensation for their losses, the Christians are to receive the Library.

As pagans, students, and slaves rush to save what few antiquities they can, the Christians break through the Library’s gates. The unruly rabble, joined by Davus, take to burning books, smashing windows, and toppling statues of the old gods. It is the triumph of barbarity against civilization, all in the name of Christ. The Legion, the very symbol of order in the ancient world, is powerless to act against their Emperor’s order despite the chaos it creates. In fact if this moment in the story demonstrates anything, it is the film’s framing of the Roman Empire as a victim of Emperor Constantine’s vision of religious tolerance.

Therein, Agora’s second act is a study into the dangers of fundamentalism. Orestes (Oscar Isaac), who during the first act declared his love for Hypatia, is now the Prefect of Alexandria and a converted Christian, as are most of Alexandria’s Pagan population. In the twenty years that separate the first act from the second, Cyril has become the Bishop of Alexandria. Davus, now freed from Hypatia, has joined the Parabalani: a semi-monastic order of morality police that resonate with a contemporary Iranian counterpart. Despite losing the library, Hypatia has continued her work as a teacher, astronomer, and now adviser to Orestes.

Having resolved the Pagan “problem” Cyril and the Christians turn to Alexandria’s other problems, namely Jews and non-believers.

Thus the Church of Christ transitions from a pugnacious rabble to a xenophobic, misogynistic, and utterly tedious organization of doctrinarians and thugs who will stone, stab, or denounce any who would question the primacy of god and the church. As enforcers of the most simplistic reading of church law, the Parabalani are little more than a street gang against whom Orestes and the troops under his command are powerless. All the while, Hypataia is almost ignorant of the state of affairs within the city. She focuses her mental energy on Ptolemy’s construction of the cosmos. Only Cyril preaching a gospel of absolute good and evil forces her from her studies and adds a motif of religion versus science to the film.

Toward the end of the two hour runtime, Hypatia’s earliest messages on brotherhood are lost. Absent is the civilizing, albeit un-egalitarian, rule of Rome. The film is a descent from order to theocratic chaos, all at the hands of Christianity. Or is it? The base brutality of religious conflict, though specific to this film, is not unique to Rome, Alexandria, or Christianity. The history of ambitious men who appeal to the credulous with simple logic is hardly restricted to matters of the soul. While Agora is heavy handed at times, it would be a mistake to assume it is as simple as the sum of its parts.

Like Christianity, Judiasm, and the ancient religions of Greece and Egypt, Agora can be understood on a surface level. From there, fiery condemnations or atheistic praise can be served up in equal measures. Examining Agora under greater magnification reveals a story that shows not only the mistakes of the past, but those of the present. To ask the question in another way, is Agora taking a hard stand against Christianity, or does it simply have the audacity shame people who have not learned from the mistakes of 1600 years ago?

Agora may not be the best piece of historical fiction ever created, but in my estimation it is a well layered allegory. Those who would take instant umbrage at seeing Christianity, Judaism, or Greco-Egyptian paganism portrayed in a less than flattering light, even if the intersection of history and film may be closer than some would care to admit, would do well to avoid this particular story. True to Hypatia’s philosophical roots, the experience will evoke more questions than answers. Perhaps those questions need not have been wrapped in such incendiary grab, but great questions rarely accompany quiet moments in the human experience – even if that experience is an amalgam of others.

Directed by: Alejandro Amenábar

Written by: Alejandro Amenábar and Mateo Gil

Starring:  Rachel WeiszMax Minghella and Oscar Isaac


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Endless Space: The Full Review

NB: For those who missed it, click here for my “First Hundred Turns” review of Endless Space.

A long time ago in a galaxy not so far away, a little studio created a game that would become a phenomenon. Who knew that Master of Orion and its sequel Master of Orion II would become the gold standard against which all other 4X (eXplore, eXpand, eXploit, eXterminate) strategy games would be measured. In the intervening years, a slow trickle of games have attempted to recapture the Master magic; with relatively few exceptions, these games have been terrible. In Endless Space strategy gamers can finally rejoice in a title that gives the genre’s progenitors a run for their money.

Endless Space keeps quite true to the established 4x formula. Players can choose from one of nine playable factions or construct their own custom species. From there, they have one planet, one colony ship, one scout, and the freedom to play as they like. Conquer the galaxy, unite it under a common purpose, or transcend the petty matters of corporeal beings; the choice is yours. This may sound like a complicated task. However, even the greenest of stellar despots need not fear this game’s learning curve. Endless Space boasts is a comprehensive tutorial system that explains about 95% of the game’s mechanics as players naturally work through the ins and outs of galactic governance. Additionally, most points of confusion can be answered by zooming in on the galaxy map or hovering a mouse over the confounding element.

Not only is Endless Space’s interface as intuitive as it is subtle, but it’s also the key to some stunning artwork. From the main screen, players can scroll back to view their procedurally generated galaxy as a boundless collection of stars. Zooming in closer shows star systems with their connecting space lanes and wormholes. Zoom in further still to glimpse fleets and a given star system’s construction project.

Everything you need to know to manage your empire can be found on one easy to read screen.

Clicking a star brings the player to a system overview screen. Endless Space finds the perfect micro/macro management balance in focusing the health of an empire around star systems rather than individual planets. Though there are always a number of planets orbiting a given star, improvements to food, industry, science, and dust (the game’s currency) apply to all colonized worlds within a controlled system. The only choice a player has to make with respect to individual planets is if they should focus on agriculture, production, research, or commerce. This brilliant decision on the part of Amplitude Studios allows for at-a-glance evaluations of a system’s role within an empire. The other benefit to this management mechanic is that the late game need not become a dull process of turning planetary development over to the AI – an option that remains available if you are so interested, but you probably won’t be.

Speaking of AI, if ever there was something that might turn into Skynet…

Protip: Add two levels of conventional difficulty on to whatever the game says you are playing. Even on “Normal” Endless Space’s virtual foes show no mercy. The AI is methodical, but also sensible. Sensible in what way you ask? In many other 4X games an AI will start to make outrageous demands of its allies once the galaxy fills up. In refusing these demands, a human player will sour the relationship with their AI counterpart until the negative feedback amounts to a suitable pretense for war. Endless Space’s AI is smarter than that. So long as the computer controlled race’s alignment matches up with the player’s, the AI won’t sabotage an alliance for the sake of a military win. Instead the AI might shift its tactics toward a diplomatic or scientific victory. Failing that, it will just use the alliance as a means of running up its score. PS: to the devs, please give us an option to play out a game to the bitter end rather than a 350 turn cap.

Combat, an essential part of the 4X experience, is something to behold in Endless Space. On the surface, it may seem like a particularly cinematic rock/paper/scissors experience. As fleets close on each other they pass through ranges where each of the game’s three weapon classes are most effective. Yet the long/medium/close ranges only add bonuses to missile/beam/kinetic weapons. Endless Space demands either balanced ship loadouts or mixed vessel fleets for long term success. Adding another layer of complexity to the combat is a card system. At the start of each battle phase a selected combat card will buff a player’s fleet or hinder the opponent. There are some scenarios where one card will outright cancel another. Defence cards, for example, will balance out attack cards, but a sabotage card will actively counter attack cards. As fleets gain experience and an empire’s technology improves, more combat card abilities become available. The only trouble with this system is that you might spend a little too much time watching the utterly majestic ship battles and forget to assign a combat card. So Endless Space might not have the Lego block ship customization of Galactic Civilizations, but it more than compensates with a genuinely unique combat engine.

Remember to pick your combat card before watching the fireworks.

Hero characters, which can serve as either fleet admirals or system governors, add yet another twist to the game. As these characters level up, they unlock a variety of abilities that can influence a system’s resource production, citizen happiness, the ability of a planet to resist a siege, or range/damage bonuses in combat. The catch is that as heroes evolve they become more expensive to maintain. Additionally, even the most fantastically wealthy faction has a limited number of heroes at their disposal. Finding the balance between civil development and military command can be a key to success.

Even Endless Space’s multiplayer, a feature not generally well done in 4X games, proves to be a rewarding experience. Matchmaking is simple enough: either host a game on your own or join somebody else’s. Though a full game with eight players in a large sized galaxy would probably require an afternoon’s investment in time, the AI is able to substitute for any human players who drop the match. It will even go to the trouble of maintaining pre-existing alliances and strategic plans. The vacant seat can also be filled by someone willing to join mid-game. The only obvious shortcoming to the multiplayer is that there’s no private chat between empires. Any wheeling and dealing has to be done through the in-game diplomacy menus or a public chat. The prefixed diplomatic options are suitably robust for player vs AI matches, but lack the subtlety necessary for crafting complex intrigues.

The only shortcomings with Endless Space are the sort of sundry things that could quite easily be patched in future updates. There are no real options for inter-empire espionage or sabotage. The former only becomes an acute issue due to the game’s scoreboard. At any point a player can see how their empire is shaping up against all the others in the game, regardless of if those other civilizations have been discovered. When military might, colonial holdings, wealth, and technological progression can be distilled into a score, the importance of diplomacy is somewhat devalued. An option to turn off this scoring would enrich both the multiplayer and single player games. Building in an espionage system to replace the score board would be even better. After that, the only other thing that stands out as an oversight is that random race selection in single player can often lead to duplicates of the same faction. If I order up an eight player game, I don’t want to see three different versions of the United Empire.

Save for what’s mentioned above and a few odd AI fleet names, there’s something particularly demoralizing to losing a space battle against a fleet called “TerranTemplate25-ver1”, Endless Space is a fantastically crafted game from start to finish. While the development team has pulled no punches in creating a challenging AI, they’ve clearly demonstrated a desire to bring newcomers into the 4X subgenre. Nostalgia may have inspired this team, but the game and its fascinating lore stand tall on their own merits. Endless Space is positioned to join a very elite club of 4X games that not only appeal to veterans of the genre, but also welcome in a new crop of players.

Endless Space is available via Steam for $29.99 USD. The “Emperor” edition, which offers some extra skins, a custom hero, and greater input in Amplitude Studios “Games2gether” program, is available for five dollars more. NB: There is NO difference in game play between the standard “Admiral” edition and the “Emperor”.


2

Movie Review: Another Earth

When Another Earth debuted in January 2011 it quickly became the darling of the 27th Sundance Film Festival. Therein, it won the Alfred P. Sloan Feature Film Prize, a Special Jury Prize, and was nominated for the Grand Jury Prize. Since then the film has found praise from the Chicago Film Critics Association and the American Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy & Horror Films. But like many independent science fiction films, Another Earth has cobbled surprisingly little traction within the entertainment mainstream. Perhaps this tragic neglect is due to the film being pigeon holed as a science fiction story – not that there is anything wrong with that. While there are some obvious sci-fi elements to the plot, at its core Another Earth is a contemporary story about loss and redemption.

Another Earth uses tragedy to weave together the lives of two people. Rhoda Williams, played by the film’s co-writer Brit Marling, is a brilliant high school student bound for MIT to study astrophysics. John Burroughs, played by William Mapother, is a composer and professor of music at Yale University. On the night that a second Earth appears in the sky, Rhoda is driving home drunk from a party where her friends had been feting her good fortune. During the trip Rhoda’s attention gradually shifts from the road toward the stars until her vehicle smashes into Burroughs’ parked car, killing Burroughs’ toddler son and pregnant wife. After serving a four year prison sentence, Rhoda returns to her childhood home and struggles with finding a way to carry on after committing an unforgivable act.

With a description like that, it would be all too easy for Another Earth to descend into maudlin banalities: hissy fits, wailing, cursing the universe for its unfair machinations, and an eventual forgive-and-forget happy ending. Yet even when John and Rhoda are at their lowest, their agony comes with a certain stoicism. Rhoda’s early in the film attempt at suicide is that of a person who wants nothing more than to lay down and go to sleep, forever. Burroughs’ inner anguish is manifested through the ruin that is his home. This particular metaphor is made all the more acute when Rhoda’s first contact with Burroughs transforms from a planned admission of guilt into an offer to clean his home. As she gradually pushes back the dirty dishes, mouldy take out, and perennially dirty laundry so too does Burroughs true nature begin to emerge from his self-imposed exile. It’s not the most subtle of character shifts, but at the very least it’s an honest display of heartbreak, contrition, and recovery – perhaps more honest than the audience would be willing to admit given the pretensions of sadness that propriety demands people wear in such situations.

The film also resists the temptation to make the other Earth a focal point for endless philosophical discussion. There are no scenes where characters wax poetic on which planet is the real Earth. Neither is there the sort of existential crisis that one might expect from the sudden appearance of a second earth, apparently populated by a parallel civilization. Instead, the other Earth acts as a point for inner reflection. The central question to that mediation, point in fact, is deceptively simple: “If you met another version of yourself, what would you say?” In that, Another Earth makes explicit the sort of judgmental conversations that we have with ourselves on a daily basis. The second Earth is a beautiful metaphor, as well as a stunning special effect, for humanity’s collective doubts, anxieties, hubris, vanity, hopes, and fears. Throughout the film the second Earth looms omnipresent in the sky as something infinitely more tangible than the alternate realities promised by multiverse theory. It is a constant reminder of that which is and that which might be, but it’s never so intrusive as to steal a scene or undermine the inner conflicts of the central players.

Arguably Another Earth is a perfect example of what science fiction can do as a means of relating a sophisticated yet universal story. If only to appease the pedants, there are snippets of audio throughout the film that attempt to offer a plausible explanation for the sudden appearance of a second Earth within our solar system. However, the core story draws upon this single fantastic event to reflect upon some of the most common elements to the human condition. There are no dogmas, political systems, or easy answers within Another Earth’s runtime. Instead, there are only questions, best guesses, and flawed ventures into negotiating impossible situations. The combination of outstanding acting from Marling and Mapother pairs with the rarest sort of honest writing wherein the script does not follow the usual path of inviting the viewer’s sympathy. Instead the story creates an environment where the audience is free (maybe even encouraged) to react with the entire spectrum of their emotions. All the while, the dialogue poses questions that will inspire self-reflection well after the credits have rolled such that the narrative is never a litany of base appeals to emotion. Thus the movie is no simple tragedy; rather Another Earth is best understood as a slice of contemporary realism.

Another Earth is elegant, honest, and thoughtful but never condescending or pretentious. The film is catalyzed by an event that is traditionally within the realm of science fiction, but the story is, perhaps purposefully, conventional and terrestrial. If Moon was the hidden sci-fi gem of 2009, then Another Earth is certainly such a film from 2011.

Directed by: Mike Cahill

Starring: Brit Marling, William Mapother, and Matthew-Lee Erlbach


4

Endless Space – My First 100 Turns

One hundred turns is not enough play time to offer a comprehensive review of Amplitude Studio’s Endless Space. There’s simply too much to do and too many game elements to explore. That fact alone should be a good indication of this title’s quality. However, gamers experienced in the sublime pleasures of the 4X space empire sub-genre are probably eager to know if this entry warrants their attention and money. With a full review slated for later this week, I humbly offer the history of my first hundred turns of galactic governance as a baseline for gauging interest.

I began my first earnest campaign in Endless Space as an offshoot race of Humanity called “The Pilgrims”. I opted for a medium sized galaxy with four AI controlled races, fully prepared to enter a real estate battle royale.

For the first forty turns my civilization was alone in the cosmos. This caused me to make an assumption that would later prove to be my undoing. Because I had not made first contact with another race, I assumed the Pilgrims to be the most advanced sentients in the galaxy. Without grounds for comparison, I expected to find my rate of scientific progress unparalleled. Birth rates were high on all my colonies. I ordered the construction of planetary improvements to generate wealth and prosperity for all. My coffers were perpetually full as I maintained a low tax rate and focused on a small fleet of state of the art ships. Even though I could have hired an extra governor or two, I decided to save my people the upkeep. At our height, the Pilgrim empire stretched out across seven stars and nineteen worlds.

Upon meeting the United Empire, the main branch of Humanity within Endless Space, I soon learned the meaning of hubris. While there is no mechanism for overt espionage within Endless Space, contact with the Empire allowed me to compare my overall empire score with their own. The numbers were not encouraging. The Empire had triple the value of my civilization. Despite my discovery of warp drive, a technology that allowed my ships to travel outside of the stellar strings that connect the galaxy, the Empire had me hemmed into a little corner of a spiral arm.

Repeated attempts to form some sort of diplomatic relationship with the Empire were fruitless. The AI seemed to respect the works of Sun Tzu in that it saw no benefit in establishing formal relations with a nation so much weaker than itself.

Weaker nation? I could hardly believe the words when they appeared on my screen. Though our state of cold war did not permit direct intrusion in the other’s territory, my ships had skirmished with the Empire’s in neutral space. I had won every single one of these battles. During the gorgeously rendered cinematic battle sequences, I watched my ships deploy beam weapons while the Empire’s ships were still mucking about with low grade kinetics. It turned out that those ships, which I so handily destroyed, were just scouts. The AI controlling the Empire centralized its advanced fleet around its core systems. When I finally snuck a warp driven scout ship into the Empire’s border regions, I discovered that their fleet outnumbered mine by a margin of eight to one.

With each passing turn I watched the Empire’s territory encroach upon my own. They didn’t even bother with a formal declaration of war. Why should they when the influence of their expanding frontiers would soon engulf my outer colonies; the very colonies that had cost me a fortune in spending programs to counteract the locals’ discontent at being on the periphery of Pilgrim space. There was only one answer to the United Empire’s growth. War.

Since meeting the Empire I had enacted a rapid ship building program. I poured half the treasury into quadrupling the size of my fleet. Setting my sights on the nearest two Empire systems, I threw my ships into battle. Annexing my neighbour’s worlds proved a more difficult proposition than I had expected. Subduing a system, planet by planet, takes time. Moreover, none of my ships were equipped with space to ground weapons systems. And then, as if the first few turns of my invasion were nothing but a joke, the Empire turned its attention upon me.

They had more ships than I could have imagined. That was the Empire’s real strength. Technologically, we were on par with each other. But where the Empire could afford to trade ships on a one to one ratio, I could not. At turn 109 my sieges were broken and my surviving ships limped back to Pilgrim territory.

Given the sheer size of the United Empire’s fleet, I have little doubt that they would have over run my colonies and captured my home system if I let the scenario play itself out.

To this critic’s eye, the mark of a good 4X space empire game rests in its ability to lend itself to a player constructed narrative. For example, I still remember my first game of Master of Orion. I remember coming to the Psilons aid when the Bulrathi invaded their colonies. I remember joining forces with the Mrrshans when, despite my best efforts, the Bulrathi conquered the Psilon homeworld. And I remember turning my fleets on the Mrrshans once the galaxy was cleansed of the Bulrathi threat. What can I say, I didn’t want to power share with a race of bipedal cats.

After one hundred turns, I can say that I will not soon forget the story of my first foray into Endless Space. Everything about this game, from the truly cinematic space battles to the innovative micro/macro empire management balance, is built around allowing players to add their own back story to the game’s over arcing mythos. Rarely does a game place such trust in its audience. For devotees of 4X gaming, Endless Space is a must have. For everybody else, stay tuned for my full review coming later this week.

Want to know more? Check out Endless Space on Steam.