Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Monday, December 22, 2014
The Witcher 2 can be a frustrating game to get into, with its long intro sequence, unconventional combat, sophomoric sexuality, and lack of clear instructions. One of the features I initially shied away from is protagonist Geralt's ability to meditate.
Meditation in The Witcher 2 is a glorified inventory and stats menu, but the way combat is structured in the game (which I'm beginning to think is genius) demands you use it a certain way.
You get four options for meditation: alchemy, drink potions, meditate, character. In "alchemy" you make potions out of ingredients and in "drink potions" you do exactly that. "Character" is the skill level up menu, while simple "meditation" allows your character to wait until a certain period of the day.
Because The Witcher doesn't allow drinking potions or accessing these menus during combat, the player is forced to sit and prepare for battle in the wilderness beforehand, considering possible enemy types and combat strategies as they upgrade their skills then mix and drink potions. These potions can help protect Geralt in battle, as well as grant him certain strengths. They tend to last around 10 minutes (but I'm not very far in yet, this probably varies).
The difference between running into battle and sitting down beforehand to prepare and upgrade has a huge practical effect - Geralt can take more hits and do more damage. I also think there's a psychological effect on the player. By forcing them to sit before combat to organize resources, the game encourages the player to form a strategy. Thinking in game terms going forward in time, the player becomes immersed in the experience.
I've found meditation important in my life for a lot of reasons, but this game reflects one of them well - the need to have a moment of silence and consideration before acting on a task. I meditate every morning, focusing on my breath, letting thoughts rise and subside until I reach a point of relative stillness. I do this for about half an hour every day because it lets me shake off mental "residue" from the previous day and the night's dreams. It provides me a blank mental slate that allows me to give full consideration to the tasks and people of the day. Then when I go out and do those things, I can give them my full attention, feeling confident, prepared, but most importantly present.
As I play The Witcher 2, I'm getting used to its quirks and mechanics and finding them rich in detail and it excites me.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
I love the concept of the Cosmic Calendar as presented in Cosmos. It does a good job of making comprehendible something that's impossible to comprehend - the billions and billions of years it took to get where we are today. The Cosmic Calendar is a visual metaphor that divides up the history of the universe into the 365 days of the gregorian calendar. All of human civilization takes place on the last day, December 31st. Buddha, Jesus and Mohammed all did their thing within the last five SECONDS of this calendar.
On the first episode of the new Cosmos, Neil Degrasse Tyson mentioned that sex - referring to the biological process of cellular reproduction, minus the bulk of its cultural meaning to us - is as old as early November. That's about 2 billion years ago. And all of humanity, starting with apes? About 5 million years, or starting in the morning on December 31st.
So I wondered, with all that time between the beginning of sex and the beginnings of humanity, when did Play come along? Huizinga's Homo Ludens begins thusly: "Play is older than culture, for culture, however inadequaty defined, always presupposes human society, and animals have not waited for man to teach them their playing. We can safely assert, even, that human civilization has added no essential feature to the general idea of play. Animals play just like men."
Despite this compelling introduction, Huizinga's book is a historical account of play in solely the timeline of human civilization and culture. He accounts for play in the last few thousand years, but before that? When did the animals learn to play? Is play as old as multicellular organisms?
What if it's older than sex?
Maybe it's only as old as consciousness itself. For Huizinga says, "in play, there's always something at play." Perhaps the object of play, whether a concept or a ball, requires a field of consciousness to exist in. Or perhaps play gave rise to consciousness. I'm shooting in the dark here.
Still, it's an interesting question. How old is play? To answer this question would shed light on the nature of play itself.
Friday, March 21, 2014
Vaughn has a way with family themes and cheap-shot pathos (a la Pride of Baghdad) that makes this book a total page turner. While set in a fantastic sci-fi universe with magical creatures and badass technology, the sci-fi element of these books takes backseat to the modern, human story. These characters use smart-phones, have crazy sex, curse endlessly, and have to call roadside assistance when their spaceships break down. They have family arguments and have to deal with love, jealousy, and who changes the baby. Staples' artwork does a brilliant job conveying extremely personal emotions, some I'm not sure I've seen in comic format before.
Yet Saga is endlessly romantic. Our main characters are beautiful, have magical powers, know the right thing to say more than half the time, and are generally heroic. The man has horns on his head and the woman has wings on her back. They could only exist in this fantastical space opera universe, filled with unexpected creatures, obstacles, and technology. Sometimes they verge on a little too perfect - Vaughn seems to know exactly which heartstring to pull next. Even their mistakes are adorable.
This is a book that stokes the imagination. It knows what it's doing, too: one of the central themes is the power of the written word to inspire people. Our heroes go against the grain of their respective societies, and even the ruthless killers that pursue them have to reconsider the way they do things. Everybody has to step outside of their comfort zones, including the arrogant Prince Robot IV. And outside of that comfort zone, characters in this saga seem to tend toward compassion and deep emotional understanding. There's a lot of crying and reconciliation, and a lot of our heroes finding the inner strength they need to continue.
It's good book, I recommend it.