Tuesday, February 28, 2023

Mechwarrior 5 (vs. Battletech)

"Let's go driving and toolin' around
We could always get lost in the crowd
"
 
 
 
Feelin' a hankerin' fer SciFi before I return to medieval themed games, I bethought meself to get mechanical and warlike. Mechwarrior 2: Mercenaries was one of my earliest PC games, probably the first to truly enthrall me. I also played the previous Mech2 thanks to an acquaintance, loved Mech Commander for its own particular charm, but Mechwarrior 3 gave me pause, its development restricted in favor of graphics and destructible environments, to the detriment of campaign length and general variety/complexity. Given the Mechwarrior series was also one of the last names in vehicular simulation to garner interest outside its niche audience, I can't entirely condemn the gamble on visual immersion... but it failed. When Mech4 stirred only mildly improved user chatter, I simply didn't bother. Given the series stalling out with Mechwarrior Online apparently I wasn't the only one.

So when Mechwarrior 5: Mercenaries' price finally dropped to almost reasonable levels I decided it might be a hoot to chronicle a campaign comparing it to its recent adaptational competitor, Harebrained's Battletech, step by step like a role-playing story, admitting my bias toward turn-based strategy over first-person shooting. That idea went out the window a few missions into MW5. A few artlessly randomized, repetitive  missions.
 
I'd assumed Piranha BytesGames would have marketed to stand out from Harebrained Schemes' Battletech, stake out their own interpretation of the source material. Instead, even the opening cinematic re-hashes the same dead(-ish) mentor boilerplate except longer, simpler, louder, flashier. Immediately after that you're thrown into a fully mobile human mode as a genre novelty.  Eh, thinks I, guess I liked sniping windshields on foot well enough in Battlezone 2, so I might like it here too. But I HATE being forced to play a premade character, even if it is just a last name. The crew, much like the dead mentor setup, looks hilariously copy-pasted from Battletech, immediately throwing in your face a female officer (Ryana/Sumire) and a middle-eastern mechanic (Murad/Fahad) whose... Britstraliohannesburgian(?) accents double as your introduction to Mech5's nauseatingly cheesy voicing. Forget Battletech's more subdued, self-controlled action hero one-liners, mildly believable for people who risk their lives on a daily basis. Mech5 seems obsessed with playing up the setting's MILITARY SciFi, which obviously means talking like dem super-cool soldier types on da teevee. So instead of personalized callsigns, everyone's "lieutenant" this-and-that, and instead of "heads up, commander, you've got incoming" you get lines like "recon has just reported additional bogies, heading along a trajectory that intersects with your position" yadda-yadda, jabber-jabber. CLEAR COMMS! Plus, the moment they said the word "smoke" they telegraphed the most likely engame villains. And the music... is actually not too bad, even if more generic than MW2Mercs' instantly evocative, techno-punk personality.
 
So much for atmosphere.
What about gameplay?

Follows suit. At least load times are quick enough to match modern standards, outshining Battletech's worst feature by a mile, with detailed environments and no FPS drops... though it comes at the cost of spiking my Geforce 2060's temperature to 80C. But the interactivity which makes a game a game is dumbed down to suit the idiot-friendly presentation, and I can illustrate that in three screenshots.
 

You pick up random goodie crates as you stomp around each map, in the worst tradition of D&D treasure chests, or more aptly Sonic the Hedgehog stomping ring boxes.


Turrets randomly pop up out of the ground, one-shottable along with tanks and helicopters constantly streaming in. Even enemy mechs lack fog of war pings. Your missions largely resolve to skeet shooting / whack-a-mole, except:


You're also forced to occasionally shoot up enemy bases, with absurd numbers of damage sponge buildings needing piecemeal demolition. Found a gas pipe to blow up, speeding the process by a few percent? Count yourself lucky, because otherwise even trying to shoot the bottom floor out from under a skyscraper will only result in it sitting pretty on its technically "destroyed" supports until you arduously laser every damn floor to death individually.

Luckily you get nearly infinite ammo. Machine guns, as an example, go from 200rounds per ton in MW2 (yes, fine, too low) to a ridiculous 5200rounds in MW5. In fifteen hours of gameplay I think I ran out of ammo for exactly ONE weapon.
If there are any status effects like water cooling or volcanic planet ambient heat (sandstorms supposedly do weaken lasers at least) they're not actively displayed on your HUD.
No numeric values for armor/internals.
C-Bills flow like lube on a porn set. I accrue more spare cash by the time I start killing Centurions than in Battletech running full 400-ton teams.
Even your timeline can only be fast-forwarded to the next official event instead of giving you day-by-day control like Battletech's.
That "human mode" I thought might expand upon Battlezone 2's showing? Completely unused so far except for walking between your two interactable NPCs. If you want to switch mechs you just instantly teleport from cockpit to cockpit, without even a trace of in-universe justification.

Overall the message is as clear as an Atlas stomping on your face: this is an FPS and therefore tailored to the tastes of brainless twitch-gamer trash. Don't think. Don't plan ahead, don't ask for information, don't worry about resource management. Just point and click like a good little drooling cretin.
 
Sad. I'd missed stomping around in bipedal war machines, but... this? The series never moved past MW3. Battletech, despite its glaring flaws, added to the MW/MechCommander formula. MW5Mercs is still stuck in the '90s. Wanna know how weak it is?
 

I re-re-re-uninstalled Battletech today in temporary disgust. A mission ended with an enemy dropship landing in an unadvertised spot, basically as a cinematic send-off. Except it landed on a Zeus with 3 PPCs and an LRM15, MY FAVORITE TOY, telefragging it and the pilot both. No warning, no justification, no saving throw. Just a bolt of divine lightning like a teenage dungeon master's tantrum, randomly costing me millions. One of the most idiotic possible ways to screw the player over, utterly unjustifiable!
 
Yet still, by next year when I've cooled off, I can see myself reinstalling Battletech for a few more missions... but MW5? Fuck it. I can get better turreted vehicular combat by swiveling my lance in Bannerlord.

Sunday, February 26, 2023

Pictures of Snow

"Ou sont les neiges d'antan?"
______________________________________
 
"Screamed at the make-believe, screamed at the sky
And you finally found all your courage to let it all go
"
______________________________________
 
A few days ago I rediscovered Pictures of You, a song I never paid much attention to in my youth. Though I generally don't bother with music videos, this one grabbed me because of the damn snow. Yeah... screw the simian pair-bonding crap, the few survivors in future generations will be looking back on that video with nostalgia for snowy landscapes.

Within my own brief lifetime winter snows have dwindled to a mere shadow of the Holocene's natural state. We had three snowfalls here this "winter": one lasted three days, the second overnight, and the last not even 24hrs. Even when the media, desperate for some winter weather shock value, publicize a major snowfall, they always fail to follow up with it melting the next day. There's no point in building snowmen anymore. They don't last through the afternoon. Frosty's stillborn.

So I have to wonder: remember about twenty to ten years ago when it was so trendy for all the degenerate retard scum of the world to deny global warming by pointing outside their windows trying to counter-argue global changes by their local weather? Where are all those worthless fucking subhuman cretin filth now?!? Now, when winter starts in February and ends two weeks later with exactly one freak aftershock snowstorm every April, now that the only way to dream of a white Christmas is to literally dream, now that summer tornadoes and hurricanes have increasingly encroached upon December, now that parasite and rodent populations are booming every year with the longer growth seasons, (to match the ever-swelling tide of 30-IQ human vermin) and nobody talks about the spring thaw anymore because we've been thawed all along. Will the infamous Inhofe, that sleazy cuntrag who brought a snowball into the U.S. Senate to prove that god is love snow... or fuck knows what, will he now drag a bucket of water everywhere he goes to illustrate what utter drooling, shiteating imbeciles his constituents were for believing him?
 
You can't make reasoned arguments to a population too utterly retarded to understand them. Vermin deserve extermination. Humanity deserves its suffering. Humanity is subhuman. Humanity deserves to die. Stop fighting the inevitable. Let it die.



Friday, February 24, 2023

Iratus

(No, I refuse to use "Monster Mash" for an epigraph here.)

Ah, the battle-cry of Daedalic Entertainment!
 
You can't spell "mediocrity" without "me di crit"
You'll hear it from me as from every reviewer: Iratus is just a shoddier rip-off of Darkest Dungeon with marginally higher production values (e.g. four frames per animation instead of two) and like seemingly every wax-wing-wonder that Daedalic publishes, you may not entirely hate it but you'll kick yourself if you paid more than a few bucks for it. (GoG ran it as a freebie last summer.) Still, modern games give entirely too few opportunities to play the villain, so you might want to give Iratus a glance, at the very least for its deliciously unabashed, unhedged and unhinged old-school evildoer bombast.
 
Screw it. The giant cow has gone unmilked for far too long!

You play as a (well-voiced!) villain of might and magic adding your own spells to your linear four's various abilities. In practical terms, Iratus' key conceit is that instead of hiring henchmen with all-purpose gold you must construct your werewolves, skeletons, wraiths, etc. from several kinds of body parts, which also serve as all-purpose crafting materials for potions or stat buffing gear. Shallowly entertaining, but given parts drop randomly every fight and can be re-condensed into each other, it doesn't take long for the system to start feeling like a gratuitously interposed timesink instead of a meaningful challenge. In fact, such timesinks abound:
- sacrificing minions to upgrade town buildings (might as well charge me the cost of a minion instead of making me make one)
- a bestiary unlocked randomly after fights, meaning never available when you really need the info
- gaining new monster types via achievement unlocks (again harming a first playthrough)
- forcing a tutorial before the campaign
- forcing multiple clicks here and there like the "select squad" prompt
- potion recipes unlocked via systematically permutating all components
- town upgrades again linked to achievement unlocks via their monster sacrifices
- diggers' souls used to upgrade buildings are painfully scarce at the start and useless late game (finished construction halfway through the campaign)
- no customizable templates for unit upgrades, see flexibility and rocket-tag issues below

All in all Iratus' pathetic desperation to force replay value instead of earning it masks a shallow imitation of DD's best features which could not stand on its own. I will admit it handles its three damage types (physical/magic/fear) decently enough to keep them relevant. Aside from that...
- the different dungeon types certainly have their own flair, but your linear advance through them removes the ability to juggle targets based on your available units as in DD; also, since you can enter rooms forward or laterally but never back, you mainly zig-zag to maximize the number of combats (and XP) instead of prioritizing objectives
- those available units themselves are less flexible, with no true alternate skill builds
- the linear four formation sees nowhere near the same depth as in DD, with fewer and less relevant movement options
- little or no in-combat healing or crowd control mainly just forces you to slot a skeleton/abomination in every group (for their protection ability) further limiting your options
- high damage/health ratios and lack of a "death's door" mechanic turn fights into rocket tag matches, especially as crit chance stacks higher and higher in late game, trivializing damage reduction. Even the aforementioned skeletons, abominations and bone golems, your tanks, can get 3-shotted in a single round.
 
That last part largely kills Iratus' long-term appeal. According to its core conceit, you're supposed to callously throw undead flesh at your enemies and replace it as you advance, using looted brains to instantly level your replacements to your current dungeon's difficulty. In practice, not only is this unfeasible at early levels but tedious at higher levels, as you'll need to re-slot every damn one of their skill points every damn time. Worse though, lucky crits/evades decide fights more than your tactics. To reiterate my complaint while playing Icewind Dale 2 (and D&D-inspired games in general):
"If the exact same player using the exact same characters in exactly the same way has even odds to triumph or be forced to reload, you start losing the function of players at all."
 
Worse yet, even your hopes of looting more body parts for crafting depend on randomly drawing bonuses at the end of fights, or looting %drop chance gear early in your campaign.
 
On the other hand... you can make teams of cannon-wielding zombies, friendly-firing liches and hyperaggressive werewolves... so Iratus was quaint enough for one leisurely playthrough, so long as you don't bother trying to iron man your way through random crits.
 
Let's put it another way: I'll be pre-ordering Darkest Dungeon 2 as soon as it becomes available. Iratus 2 can wait in the bargain bin for a few years.

Tuesday, February 21, 2023

The Celestine Prophecy

"The vast majority of people are good people. We cooperate more than we compete. Our society works because we can trust each other. For the most part."
 
Alternative medicine, biofields, orientalism, fad diets, good vibes, past lives, extra psychic layers of reality visited via meditative tourism... if you grew up with at least one person susceptible to such nonsense you couldn't avoid a contact high over the years. Thus it was with myself back in the '90s, and thus I came to know THE CELESTINE PROPHECY (some book titles are just made to be written in all-caps... and possibly glitter or rhinestones.)
 
If you lack a mental image of the New Age movement, consider it simply a condensed version of many stupid little urban fads now independently cycling through pop culture every few years. From your online date calling herself "not religious but spiritual" (whatever the fuck that means) to slavishly copying some outside culture (weeaboos and hipsters go hand in hand (preferably off a short pier)) to those incapable of rational thought touting "mind-expanding" drugs and chi-chuggin' meditation or other putatively transcedent experiences, to accountants doing tai chi in the park, all these rose necromantically out of '60s/'70s counterculture to hit the American market all at once. The Heaven's Gate cult was just one inevitable outgrowth of such trends. Sure THE CELESTINE PROPHECY may not be remembered much now* but it made the rounds among trendy middle-class housewives pretty reliably back in its day, and more than a few readers took its babble about psychic arm wrestling as literally as a prior generation's hippies had taken Heinlein's Stranger in a Strange Land (perpetually rankling that far saner author.)
 
Fundamentally, the book rates a painfully trite little hero's journey. The protagonist is called to adventure by a politically correct mentor, travels the mystical lands beyond (a.k.a. Peru, land of llama dung and the copper in your smartphone) to recover a world-changing macguffin pursued by eeee-vil gum'mint conspiracies, learns magic and returns to restore his people to their rightful beatitude. Honestly, I'd respect the writer more if he'd just penned in a dragon to be slain at some point. As testament to THE CELESTINE PROPHECY's quality, even its one decent point was lifted from elsewhere.

Buried among all the mystical gibberish, it reminded its audience that human personalities and behaviors are basically roles played in order to wrest "energy" from others by making others emotionally or attentionally invested in oneself. Ignoring the psychic energy bullshit, drawing on others' resources can be achieved through both offensive and defensive strategies, categorized in the novel into four, which I'd rather term aggressive, intrusive, tempting or needy. As to superficial validity, I'll just point you to our modern internet attention economy and a few strategies employed by rabblerousers, charlatans and general hacks:
- hashtag mobs converging upon targets of public shaming
- cyberstalking individuals' every comment in history to root out heretical thoughts
- listicles and "this one secret THEY don't want you to know" clickbait
- posturing as a martyr for having had your ass pinched that time back in '07

These are neither new ideas nor new behaviors, even at face value. They could and I'm sure have benefited from more thorough psychological, evolutionary or game theory analysis over the years. Manipulation has always coexisted with violence. Cooperation is a form of competition, banding together, teaming up, ganging up. Playing the victim, emotionally extorting material concessions or getting others to fight for you are means of powermongering. So how far have our intellectual standards fallen that even THE CELESTINE PROPHECY a dime-a-dozen hippie fart in the wind from thirty years ago, was more realistic about this manipulative facet of human behavior than we dare to be now? Now, when the university system itself has been laid waste by the grand priests and priestesses of uncritical "poor me" entitlement. Isn't it hilarious that even the loftiest heights of intelligentsia can no longer muster the rigorous skepticism of the New Age movement? Laugh, damn you.
 
Our society does not work, precisely because we trust each other too much. For the most part. Even the tiny sane part lies moribund. It's over. Just enjoy pretending you're a psychic Mayan supersoldier, until the vermin break down your door to slit your throat.


___________________________________________
* Or maye it is remembered? I'm finding a discouraging wealth of fan sites for this old yarn, some with disturbingly modern layouts.

Saturday, February 18, 2023

Cutting through the Treacle: AlzRAMmer's Disease

"So tell me, who are you dissing or maybe I'm missing
The reason that you're smiling or wilding
[...]
This time, this time I'm losing my mind"
 
Beastie Boys - So What'Cha Want
 
 
(working title: I Am My Own Grandpa, Redux)
 
Sometime in recent months, League of Legends began saving your role selection while queuing up for a match. Apparently after fourteen years of unjustifiably dominating the AoS market, they finally sussed out that players in class-based games tend to play their favorite classes repeatedly. You don't say. (ProTip: they also like leveling up, scoring kills and getting loot.) But, in Riot's defense, they're far from the only game designers forcing customers to repeatedly click-through pointless pre-flight checklists.

I've also been playing the squad management dungeon-crawler Iratus recently.

 
"Choose a battle squad" hmmm, let's see, well, tough choice, jinkies gang, I'm stumped! Maybe I should go with Squad 1, the same one I've been playing so far and the ONLY squad I will ever choose because in the absence of multi-squad fights you only ever shuffle units in and out of your ONE active squad. Your reserves should mostly be healing/training. Somehow, being forced to confirm the obvious for hundreds of fights in a row has never once altered my choice!

The same routine proved doubly unjustifiable among Wartile's many nuisances:
 
- for often making it literally impossible to alter your group composition (three recruitable party members and exactly three spots on the boat, etc.) yet still demanding you drag-drop the idiotic little digitized plastic toys onto the little diorama boat every. single. goddamn. time!
 
But I'm not bitter, dear game developers. I understand that in the five or fifty gigabytes of memory space your piece of shit of a product's taking up on my hard drive, complete with glossy high-resolution flashing buttons for your Twitter feed, Discord channel, forums, store pages, blooper reels, YouTube ads, holiday-themed costumes, DLC spam, director's commentary and podcast of your mother-in-law's appendectomy, there just weren't enough bits left over to dedicate to a few hundred lines of plain text preserving my own preferences in a .ini file or whatever they're calling it these days. I simply cannot express my gratitude at your open disdain for my choices. Especially when you're asking my money for the privilege of choosing.


Like all so-called "MMO"s Lord of the Rings Online gradually degraded to an outlet store for imaginary funny hats over the years, and having played on and off since its launch I've accumulated quite a few such hats. And spaulders. And boots made for walking. And capes for the crusadin'. And more cowbell. And a loaf of bread for some reason. Well, collect however many you want, but you still only get 8 outfit slots maximum to play dress-up. Any more might stress our servers and cause lag or something, and we need that server space to store three different versions of every consumable item reiterated every five character levels and ten different names and stats for every reused item visual and aaahh, by the way, please keep buying more character slots to feed your alt-itis everyone and please never look up the term "force multiplier" if you hear the fiberoptics creakin'.

I mean, The Secret World was even worse, as there the limited number of outfit slots applied not just to cosmetics but the the various gear you constantly needed to un/re-slot when swapping classes and damage types for different dungeons. The same applies to the aforementioned League of Legends' "rune" loadouts.

What are you selling?
 
Games, as media, bank on interactivity. Everything from new map settings to character and town names to group and gear loadouts to cosmetics express your customers' interests, personality and strategy. I don't care if you're motivated by microtransactions or interface timesinks to drag out those gameplay-hour totals or you're trying to build addictive anticipation of reward stimuli. This bullshit's been old for ages now. I'm not inclined to believe that the same program which records my last million mouse clicks suddenly hits a patch of senility when trying to remember my name, or whether I clicked "1" or "2" in the squad selection window last fight. I even less appreciate being nickel-and-dimed for the honor of permutating the content I already paid you for.

If you have enough memory to animate your company logo, you have enough memory to save my preferences.

Tuesday, February 14, 2023

Matriarchin' a Dead Spite

"Are we all brides to be
Are we all designed to be confined
Buy ourselves chastity belts and lock them"
 
_____________________________________________
 
"[Dee] Graham repeats the long-discredited fable about the 9 million victims of the European witch-hunts over a three-hundred-year period, further noting that as some scholars say witches were persecuted for six hundred years, the real number of martyred women may actually be twice that high. By contrast, Robin Briggs, in his recent meticulously documented Witches and Neighbors: The Social and Cultural Context of European Witchcraft, tells us that the best-informed recent estimates of the total number of executions for witchcraft in Europe are between forty thousand and fifty thousand, of whom about 25 percent were men."

Daphne Patai - Heterophobia (1998)
_____________________________________________
 
Mild spoilers for We Happy Few's second storyline.
(Also potential spoilers about human nature, if you've never thought about that stort of thing.)
_____________________________________________
 
I decided to polish off the rest of We Happy Few, whose problems still mostly stem from its production unfortunately split between open-world survival and story missions, compounded by forcing the player to start the campaign over for each character gathering berries and bottles. Pity, because it really did boast a highly memorable setting both visually and aurally ("take! your! joy!") good writing and professional-quality voice acting. But even in terms of storytelling Compulsion Games cut the branch out from under themselves several times.
 
posters of the "C"-grade and crashland
Take Sally Boyle, your second protagonist. On one hand most of her quest interactions and flashbacks show a gifted, intellectually isolated child growing into a cold-bloodedly utilitarian adult, whose negative experiences stem primarily from incompatibility with other females' consensus, from her mother to the girls at school to adult interests.
Superimposed on that you've got the superficial Sally of casual gameplay, spouting nonstop one-liners about rape. She's in good with the supernatural and her last couple of quests reframe all conflict against men. Methinks I smell a rewrite.
 
Granted, all three protagonists, in keeping with the game's central theme of willful ignorance, center on self-delusion. But where Arthur and Ollie's stories drive them toward admitting their own guilt, Sally's flips to feminist flat-Earthism at some point, to that mystical land of Femtasia where all a woman's problems can be blamed on males. Even her last line doubles as a parting shot against men. All this within an overarching plot hinging on EVERYBODY's complicity in the town's self-destructiveness, with Sally herself objectively more entangled than the others.
But nope!
Men are useless pigs, women gotta stick together and our heroine finds her inner strength and floats gloriously into the sunset instead of facing her inner demons.
Who needs nuance when you've got conceit?

Man bad, woman good. Repeat the mantra.

Then again, we've grown so accustomed to those sorts of digressions, haven't we? If you're a fan of The Order of the Stick you probably remember one particularly nonsensical page. During a fight against giants, one giantess' banter suddenly turns into a random feminist rant against men taking credit for her work... with a heroine voicing uncritical solidarity. Ummm, you go girl(s) ... I guess? Preferably you go back to the actual story about fireball-slinging frost giants on an airship?

Man bad, woman good. Repeat the mantra.
 
You can pick most any book/movie/game/comic these days and only flip a few pages/minutes/quests before running into such gratuitously interjected posturing. Of course, observing the sheer pervasiveness in modern fiction of our need to reframe any male/female interaction as a call to charge to women's defense on a white horse, you should expect it to have deeper roots. And it does. We've been doing it (albeit more gradually and subtly) in fictionalizing history, for centuries now.

Remember that stirring plot hook in Braveheart about prima noctis, the supposed law giving lords the right to fuck the bride on her wedding night? Turns out nobody can actually find such a law. It's certainly possible that some lords in the dark ages did stop by to rape random housewives (simply because they had swords and the peasants didn't) but even too much of that would rapidly earn you a housecall from a gaggle of pitchforks and torches. But hey, Braveheart needed a politically correct motivation, so there. Fuck history. Prima noctis it, even.
 
Or remember when Disney's Mulan risked execution for dressing like a man? Yeah, turns out that part's about as likely as her running around with a pet dragon. (The original folk tale, if memory serves, just had her donning her father's gear when he falls, in the general vein of a son taking up his father's sword; plus that whole filial piety angle sells great in China.) But hey, Mulan needed a politically correct motivation, and nothing would serve but pitting her against oppressive, stupid men - oppression and stupidity made to order for a Disney audience.

Or how about chastity belts. We've all heard how those evil, sadistic crusading knights used to put their womens' privates under lock and key while they went on cheerful adventures overseas. (i.e. bleeding to death in the mud in hopes of bringing back some loot for said wife but that part's not important) Well, turns out those didn't exist either, at least not until centuries after the crusades, when a spare handful show up... as the same sexual fetish they are now. 'Cause we're a bunch'a kinky monkeys.

Or hey, the rule of thumb. Everybody loves that one. Remember when British/American men were legally empowered to beat their wives with a stick no thicker than one's thumb? No? Actually, nobody does, because that too was conflated and inflated by feminists to justify their demonization of men. Laws explicitly forbidding wife-beating were, on the other hand, commonly enacted, even if enforcement was lax in this as it was for infanticide or selling fake merchandise or really, most any crimes before modern criminology.

Or take the idea of women being persecuted as witches (so uncritically accepted that even saner social critics like Sam Harris may be heard referencing it as being put to death "simply for being a woman") sensationalized to the point you'd wonder how Europe had any women left after torching them by the millions. Except of course it didn't. The current estimate hovers around 50,000-100,000 executed/accused victims over a period of three centuries and spare. For reference, during that same period, the Thirty Years' War alone (itself superficially justified by Christian schisms) claimed (conservatively!) at least five million lives. A hundred times the carnage concentrated into a tenth the timespan, but fuck that historic noise, crimes against women are so much... sexier, aren't they?
 
Except even witch hunts were not specifically aimed at women. About a quarter of the victims were men (yup, even odds one of the weird sisters would've been a weird brother) and the specific attention to women seems to have been concentrated in north-western Europe (do I detect a trace of Norse seidr?) with other regions like France breaking even and still others like Finland/Russia/Estonia in fact hunting male witches predominantly. If you have trouble visualizing such demographics, the University of Edinburgh put together a loverly little map of Scotland's ~3100 witchcraft trials over 200 years, complete with male/female color coding. (As in Salem, at first glance the big unspoken issue seems to have been class warfare, with middle class families particularly targeted.)
 
Even that doesn't place witch trials into proper context, forming a very small part of religiously motivated violence in which the far more general accusation would've been not witchcraft or lycanthropy or necromancy or demonic possession, but HERESY. Some hapless villagers keep their fingers at slightly the wrong angle while praying to Jesus? CRUSH THEM IN THE NAME OF JESUS!!! Orthodox and Protestant churches certainly didn't shy from oppressing nominal heretics, but the Catholics especially outdid themselves, seemingly intent on declaring all of Europe's population heretical at some point or another. And when it comes to religious warfare (as to danger in general) it would've been men up against the wall first and foremost, a fact we simply take for granted as our instinct dictates.

We want to hear about women as victims because, instinctively, it feels good to jump to their defense.
Much of this obsession with past centuries' crimes against women in fact predates modern feminism. Heavy cultural damage was inflicted in the 19th century. Victorian Western Europe was already in many ways a consumer economy, with all the sensationalist entertainment that entailed but none of today's fact-checking. The hoopskirt brigades always got a thrill out of hearing how they would've been mastered and ravished by those oh-so-domineering (and therefore much sexier) brutish males of the past. (Seriously, why do you think your girlfriend wets herself at the sight of Jack Sparrow? It ain't just Depp's pout. They want the pirates.) Some of the issues now cited as patriarchal oppression are in fact products of that same female consumer market.

Take virginal white wedding dresses, occasionally bemoaned by feminists as imposed by The Patriarchy on poor helpless brides. For most of space and time, women wore richly colored dresses to their weddings, not as any statement about their hymens but because dyes were expensive and weddings were supposed to emphasize the new couple's prosperity. Translation: rich bitches wanted to show off. Then in 1840 the richest bitch decided to wear white, which later acquired the connotations of Victorian puritanical mores. Gradually, some of the aristocracy (and America's placeholder aristocracy, Hollywood) fell into step, and a century later after WW2 the trend was normalized by the middle class. Meaning the virginal white wedding dress had damn near nothing to do with patriarchal oppression or even religious oppression, and everything to do with women's own pissing contests over class and respectability, envy and posturing and pretending you're a queen - which makes perfect sense when you remember the average guy could not possibly give less of a shit about the color of wedding dresses!

(While we're at it, Braveheart did not invent prima noctis, popularized back in the late 1800s by The Marriage of Figaro)

Feminists like to pretend their movement exists to right practical concerns, and back in the 1950s when the arguments were about bank accounts and driving licenses, they had at least half a point. But the push to recenter every single argument on women's perceived plight cannot stand on factual grounds. Talking points like "rape culture" or the supposed wage gap or one-sided domestic abuse or a lack of social services compared to men have been repeatedly demonstrated to be either overinflated, abused as pretexts long after they have been addressed, or outright fabricated.

No, attacks on men as evil oppressors instead gain acceptance from a constant, all-pervasive perception of male guilt supported in part by historical revisionism, partly feminist and partly merely sensationalist. Back in '98 Patai referenced the myth of millions of women burned at the stake as embarrasingly outdated and debunked, but if you asked around now most people probably still believe it. The truth is we want to believe all these little rewrites about plucky damsels in distress, all the little misquotes and urban legends, all the myriad little lies adding up to one big one:
Man bad. Woman good.
We grow up in it, every day of our lives, from Disney to Paramount Pictures to video games to comics to every news article, tweet and wiki stub insisting that if it sounds so right, it must be. A million little slips of the tongue every year drum the anti-male dogma into us, and declare anyone daring to question it a heretic.
 
So let's get heretical.

Let's address the biggest revisionist half-truth of all, the idea that women had less freedom than men. Yeah, true. So? What do you think that meant in a monarchist world? Do you imagine your ancestors were arguing over who gets to drive the galleon or give speeches before the Royal Society? It's no accident that when early feminists like Mary Astell published their demands for more freedom, they so often focused on upper class concerns like the Duchess of Mazarin, who had resources to enjoy liberally. Except most people were not dukes and duchesses! The division between the sexes, going back to prehistory, established a status quo for the majority of the population (with the increasingly stratified nobility's mores growing out of such immemorial universality) and for that human majority life consisted of hitting dirt with a stick day-in and day-out hoping the dirt will turn into food.

What freedom did men have? What was the average person's life in all those woefully misogynistic centuries now lamented by feminists furiously thumbing rape paranoia tweets from neon-lit Women's Studies departments? What would've been the average man's life, whose freedom the women of the past supposedly so envied?

You lived and died in the same river valley as your ancestors. You worked at your father's craft if he was lucky enough to have one, and no, interpretive dance was not an option. You knelt in the mud and bowed to the cardinal or dowager countess rolling by in their carriages. You married the only unwed girl in a five-village radius who wasn't a first cousin, even if she preferred spending her time with the village priest, was missing her front teeth, had a habit of tossing pots at your head and smelled like boiled cabbage on a good day. You never learned to read any more than she did. You built her a house so she could hide inside it while throwing you to the wolves. (Literally. There were literal wolves!) Your greatest entertainment was trotting back and forth at spring and harvest festivals, accompanied by some lute-jangling itinerant buskers who might also juggle sticks. And you spent every day stockpiling supplies for winter or patching holes in your roof. Ownership of the land you lived on might get traded among the nobility (with you as an extension of the property) and you'd get notified you'd be bowing to some new nobles now... but you sure as hell wouldn't be voting for them. If you were really lucky you'd get invaded and gutted like livestock, your home and whole brief lifetime's accumulated effort torched while your wife and children cowered inside the church along with the priest. They'd lose everything except their lives. You'd lose everything.
There's your fuckin' freedom. Choke on it.

Freedom was a meaningless concept for an overwhelming majority of the population. Working outside the home was not a privilege or adventure. It was a desperate necessity. Virtually nobody had what we now call choices, or a career or aspirations. Women surrendered an abstract, academic concept in return for some tangible, minimal, much-needed protection from the very real hardships permeating every facet of existence, and very often traded their husbands' lives while lamenting their misfortune at losing the resources a man would've brought in. The few educated, capable upper-class women surrendered their professional lives not to men, but to the far greater majority of women who relied on the fiction that only men could do - because doing killed. The division of the sexes lasted throughout history because it materially benefited women and children first, preserved bloodlines. The bloodlines which did not adopt such measures largely died out. We've inherited that instinctive protectiveness which now makes us so susceptible to fables about damsels' distress. Then more recently, when after centuries of scientific progress industrialization, street lights and forensics had eliminated most of the wolves, when they found it safe enough to go outside, women turned around and weaponized the advantage their mothers and grandmothers had extracted from men... as a grievance against men.
 
That's the feminist historical grievance: a chastity belt, a kinky little pretense of confinement to which women themselves always held the key.

Happy Valentine's Day, lovers.

Sunday, February 12, 2023

I Spy With My Little Chloroplast

Guess I should mark Darwin Day somehow? Let's talk about the abode of pigments.
Basically in order to make use of light (whether to see or eat it) an organism needs to stick photopigments in its way, generally by embedding those pigments in a layer of cellular membrane exposed to light. But of course, since light easily penetrates thin tissue (much less a single membrane) one layer would be a waste of surface area for how little light it would capture. This problem finds a common solution in both
and
B) the eyeballs you're using to read this (that TEM's from the University of Utah, but here's Wikipedia's schematic of a retinal rod cell)

While the specific morphology differs a bit (semi-isolated sacs vs. more narrowly anchored shelves) both inside your eye and inside a plant leaf the photopigment-containing membranes within each cell are folded atop each other by the dozens to trap whatever light "leaks" through them sequentially. I'll confess I haven't looked into the exact evolutionary history here but given we've traversed numerous sightless uni/multi-cellular stages of development since we diverged from plants' ancestors, during which we were blind worms etc. this arrangement seems just one more striking example of convergence. Certainly in cyanobacteria thylakoid orientation is far more diverse (scroll down to images in results in this paper) but even there flat layering seems to predominate.
Why?
Because it works.
I mean, if you were trying to deliberately, intelligently design a light-capturing system, you might use denser, sturdier, more specialized materials like you see in solar cells requiring less layering, but evolving from an existing stage of isolated receptors in a membrane, simply stacking more and more redundant membranes maximizes the use of surface area so parsimoniously that your grandkids basically write themselves.

Thursday, February 9, 2023

Wart Isle

"We didn't need dialogue, we had *faces*!"
 
 
 
When Elemental: War of Magic first came out, I was amused at its "cloth map" graphics complete with figurines on pedestals, and concluded: "The whole thing seems to be more of a result of a few designers' combined nostalgia for the glory days of D&D, M:tG and Settlers of Catan." Nevertheless it boasted enough features to qualify as a good (not great) game in its own right, at least after getting unceremoniously truncated into Fallen Enchantress: Legendary Heroes.

The intervening decade saw the spread of neo-retro pixelation and other forms of mindless nostalgia, and while this brought about a latent and much-welcome resurgence of more complex, thoughtful genres like turn-based strategy/roleplaying it also spawned quite a few superficial copycats abusing niche audiences' predilections. Wartile falls into that second category.

Don't you want the loot? Everybody wants loot.

It doesn't fall too far, mind you. As yet another indie squad-based tactical on a hex grid, it provides the requisite core mechanics like zones of control, armor and damage juggling and a few status effects competently enough. And that's about all it provides. 3-4 units using one special ability each in between constantly autoattacking, with occasional single-use powerups. That's all you get within each actual mission.

Development time instead sank into... feels.

Units and objects are portrayed as plastic "figurines" on flat bases. Maps pointedly show their edges like tabletop game boards. Abilities are portrayed as cards. Units are moved by click-dragging each one individually to mimic manipulating tabletop piece movement (you can have your whole squad follow your currently selected unit (instead of normal group-move) but even the simplest obstacle will have them playing Theseus and the Minotaur.) Even your menu screen's arranged like physical boxes for figurines and cards.

Granted I knew most of this going in. Wartile openly advertises itself as imitating tabletop trappings. In fact I halfheartedly blew five bucks on it specifically for how thoroughly it manifests the past decade's hipster idiocy afflicting the indie PC game scene, and I wanted something to bitch at. Surprised it doesn't feature rolling dice animations to round out its tabletop cliches like another game I criticized:
"There you have Solasta's biggest problem: it doesn't focus on good content per se but on fetishizing the hobby, the form devoid of content, the "feels" of sitting in front of a vinyl placemat rolling dice, in keeping with your party's banter sounding like a bunch of socializing apes stuffing their faces with pizza around a dinette set."
 
More and more small developers (see Slay the Spire for card games) appear to be banking on nothing but this ginned-up fetish for the superficialities of tabletop games, for dice, painted figurines and decks of cards. Scratch even slightly beneath that pretence of rebelling against computers' takeover of the word "gamer" and you'll find these rebels' posturing as hollow as movie actors' revulsion against "talkies" in 1930.
 
Wartile's music sounds occasionally gripping... for a few bars... until you realize it's just spamming Dies Irae at you.
It has you looting redundant armor segments merely adding to the same stat, a flaw even D&D outgrew, all for the joy of looting repetitive treasure chests, though much as in D:OS 2 your gear is strictly determined by your linear advancement through the campaign and the constant clicking on treasure chests merely fills the perceived need for gambling addiction to retain player interest.
It boasts a campaign of Norse mythology which on closer inspection amounts to repeating half a dozen terms like "jarl" and "seidr" and fighting standard-issue walking skeletons termed draugr.
As its one practical selling point it imitates Northgard in using game tiles in real-time. But what worked marginally well for harvestable territories is merely annoying for toe-to-toe combat, making you constantly mash the "slow time" button as you constantly shuffle units around to maintain the same flanking positions in the absence disengagement attacks.
The DIY voice acting ain't winnin' no awards.
Overall, you could get more complex gameplay in a dozen randomized combats of Planetfall with more artistic creativity to boot. How long before the nostalgic fifty-somethings merely retire to their rocking chairs to gripe about how they don't make 'em like they used to, and the twenty-something hipsters jump on the next "retro" bandwagon? Boomboxes maybe? Or Thundarr the Barbarian? Ooooh, ooooh, I know, let's bring back disco yet again!

These little diorama board nostalgia trips aren't games. They're a senile tantrum. You won't be up there again, Norma.



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P.S.: All the above dovetails nicely with my comments on Hellslave last week. Though Hellslave's production values, basic mechanics and workmanship were inferior, it nonetheless built something all its own on them, whereas Wartile sells downright reactionary complacency.

Monday, February 6, 2023

Y'know, in retrospect we shouldn't have been surprised that cartoonists became such ardent proponents of lesbianism. They were always trying to get Cindy Kated.

Saturday, February 4, 2023

Hellslave

"Smoke swirling quickly towards mystic clouds
Offering of this blood
Into the flames and without shame
Consumed with howls and screams"
 
Type O Negative - All Hallows Eve
 
 
After a quick glance at Hellslave's screenshots on GoG I was about to close the tab, dismissing it as yet another half-assed pixelated throwback to the '80s - not an entirely unfair accusation. Luckily I scrolled to the bottom and caught a hilarious user review: "Sick, satanistic game. This game shouldn't be sell." ... well, if it gives superstitious Christian hicks* the vapors, it can't be all bad, right? So I took a second look, allowed myself to be tempted by Hellslave on sale and was not... well, yes, I was initially disappointed but gradually came to appreciate its better points.
 
Darkest Dungeon seems to have kicked off an overdue revival of gothic horror themes in indie games, and I for one could not be happier about that. Stylistically you could compare Hellslave to a mix of that and the first Diablo, though really its basic gameplay is just standard turn-based roguelike/roguelite. Advance your character along a linear series of dungeons triggering random encounters until you hit boss fights. Grab tha lewt, mostly pointless vendor trash. Invest in more or less redundant buffs and nukes. Nothing special so far, right? Like Tower of Time, Hellslave tries to make good on a trite and simplistic routine, while lacking even ToT's sparse mid-grade production values. Within five minutes I was ready to bash and uninstall it for fumbling even its mood by stilted, stumbling, dull as dishwater writing... until I realized I was looking at a babelfished** or naive amateur translation, in retrospect hard to miss:


And that's the other thing. Though judging by user reviews, Ars Goetia has been feverishly fixing bugs since launch last year, some persist. (The "impious light" spell for instance doesn't go on cooldown as advertised, letting you insta-AoE-nuke with life leech to your mana bar's content.) Add inexplicative tooltips (I still don't know what some of the demonic altar blessings do) and a clumsy interface. It does offer some unexpected quality of life features like gear comparison tooltips but lacks some basic ones like hotkeys, which would come in especially handy since you tend to spam one attack overwhelmingly every fight.
 
Crafting is particularly pointless, both for requiring specific (but unmarked) weapons, forcing you to flip back and forth between your inventory and log... and because the mysterious results prove consistently weaker than easily looted pigstickers from dungeons. Allow me to reiterate the pointlessness of crafting in all but the sandboxiest cRPGs, and wonder why indie developers presumably on a shoestring budget waste work-hours on this half-assed feature which they desperately need to instead invest in their interface, bug hunting and translations.
 
Also, while I'll praise the visuals in a second, what the hell(slave) happened to graphic design when it came to armor pieces?
 
The flouncy skirt really ties the ensemble together

I would appear to have mistakenly sold my soul to the demonic patron of macaw pimps, tho' I could swear I chose Leviathan to suit my usual spellcaster preference. Strategically, Hellslave's only real draw is building your character for effect procs off crits/dodges/poison/bleeding/etc. Tactically it revolves around managing the global cooldown incurred by most abilities (making instant casts like the above-mentioned impious light somewhat overpowered) with the twist that some spells can only be re-cast after scoring a kill or being brought to the brink of death, encouraging a bit of brinksmanship - albeit to a lesser extent than Darkest Dungeon.

Overall, Hellslave reiterates French developers' usual stylistic panache marred by inattention to mechanics.
 
I generally sneer at games praised for a "comic book style" (if you want that, make a damn comic) but Ars Goetia manages to sell it. Your adventure lacks much in the way of intrigue (demons=bad; go stab 'em) and I was disappointed to find my choice of patron held no plot relevance, but each dungeon nevertheless has its own flavor, the mood remains consistently dark while narrowly avoiding self-parody, and bosses strut into their appearances frame by frame dripping with perverse, sadistic menace befitting their infernal status. And if, like me, you sauves a minimal comic book level of Fransays, you may find the original French flavor texts more expressive. As the cavalcade of grotesqueries wears on, the story takes a bit of a gnostic twist, and the ending... well, what can I say, it's a classic. One bit even sneaks in some amusing meta-commentary on game-making and gameplay itself, on the joy of entering a world of ugliness to create a marvelous spectacle by its own rules and constraints.
 
Roguelikes, as a rule, shoot for replayability, and Hellslave does include multiple classes (a.k.a. demonic patrons) you can pick, plus an official hard-mode replay after your first run. To be honest it fails to entice me to make use of them. Nevertheless, for a single playthrough its recherché theatrics (look up the phrase Ars Goetia) put a nice spin on the tired old demon-stabbing routine. A more focused production effort would've suited it better, but still, Hellslave punches hard enough within its weight class to be worth picking your favorite devil and wrapping yourself in the world's inherent darkness.

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* Possibly also Jewish hicks and Muslim hicks and Pure Land hicks and primitive superstitious hicks in general. Let's not be accused of cultural bias against the rich tapestry of hickdom this world has to offer.
 
** OK, probably Google Translate, but "babelfished" just sounds better. See what I mean about expressivity?