November 2003 Archives

The holiday video game release schedule has thrown me way off plan. My "active pile" is currently so stacked that it could easily be mistaken for a lesser man's entire collection. I'm at various stages of completion with Starsky & Hutch, Viewtiful Joe, Return of the King, Mario & Luigi, Mario Party 5, and Double Dash. Not to mention perennial players like DDR, Pokemon Sapphire, Animal Crossing... and the PS2's answer to Nintendo's stranglehold on gimmicky underutilized peripherals, EyeToy. I haven't even started Ratchet & Clank 2 yet.

Being the newest, Double Dash has been getting the majority share of playtime. Rhonda and I have scored gold medals on almost every Cup. The only ones left to conquer are the 100cc and 150 cc tracks of All Cup mode. I just did the 50cc All Cup series tonight, and it was intensely tedious. 16 tracks in a row in 50cc is absurd, since the computer players are so sadly inept. My final score was over 43 minutes of race time, first place in all 16 tracks. Truly an endurance test! Spoiler: You receive NOTHING for getting a gold medal in 50cc All Cup.

Double Dash is great. So great, in fact, that Boris is putting together a special Double Dork review of it... primarily his review of the game with a couple choice inserts from yours truly. DD is a naturally perfect party game, and the inclusion of two-players-in-the-same-kart is typical Nintendo genius. I drive; Rhonda handles the weapons. We both get to play, at our own respective speeds, without resorting to split-screen deathmatching.

Although I can't help feeling that Double Dash could use a whole hell of a lot more. More tracks, more unlockables. DD has 18 characters (I think) and 15 or so karts - which is wonderful - but only 16 tracks. WTF. There's three types of battle modes and five battle arenas (maybe a sixth?), but the battle modes still all slim down to the same thing, attacking others. There's a usual boring Time Trial mode, but who cares, it's all the same tracks without the opponents or in-lane obstacles. (I read in Nintendo Power that you can unlock some creator lap ghosts here, but I haven't figured out how yet.)

Compare that to Super Smash Bros. Melee, a game which amounts to about three times as much stuff. Target Test, custom multi melees, a 1P mode that contains substantially different elements than multiplayer, trophy collecting, picture taking, hidden movies, insane stats keeping, individual player profiles. When I first played SSBM, I thought, "This is where games are going. This generation we'll see games that are so content-packed that you could play them for months and not see it all. Extras and options and menus and presentation and everything." Double Dash lets me down a bit in that regard.

Only 16 tracks. Somebody tell me I just have to flip the disc over to play another 16.

(UPDATE: I was pretty close with the "flip" comment. Mirror Mode!)

Tomorrow at this time, I'll be playing Double Dash.

In the meantime, take a look at this paperback I found in our collection of kids' books. It's an early 80's kids craft book, back when crafting was almost exclusively a Vacation Bible School activity.

Notice anything supremely crazy about that cover? Sock doll? Looks fine. Pressed flower bookmark? Wonderful. Heart-shaped necklace keychain? So appropriate it should come packed-in. Ed Asner photo puzzle...

What?

Yep, that's Ed Asner on the cover of a 1982 crafts-for-young-girls Scholastic pocket book. We did live in interesting times back then, didn't we? Not Tom Selleck or David Cassidy or Simon LeBon. Ed Asner. And I'll bet he didn't see a damn penny from The Glamorous Gift Book either.

This must be the only time in printed history that Ed Asner's visage was anywhere near the word "glamorous."

Go ahead and click the cover for an unecessary zoom-in.

We picked up the Finding Nemo DVD this weekend, along with millions of other US consumers. I didn't see the film in theaters because I'm on an extended Pixar holiday. I've grown very weary of the Pixar formula and the irrepressible public opinion that Whatever Pixar Does Is Amazing.

This is an entirely blasphemous thought, I know. I'm not saying that Pixar movies stink... just that I'm tired of it all. And that I fully expect them to have a crushing failure at some future point so that newly-cynical reviewers can use the headline "PIXAR PIC PLOPS." I don't know when that will be, but I feel it's coming.

Try to guess which Pixar film I'm summarizing: Isolated hidden sub-culture with ensemble cast of well-meaning misfits is forced to interact with the greater world.

Assuming you actually named a Pixar movie, you're right! It's all of them.

This is what Pixar does. They do it well, sure. I liked Finding Nemo. It was cute. It didn't break new grounds in cinema, but it was cute. I also liked A Bug's Life and the first Toy Story (I found the second Toy Story tolerable and skipped Monsters Inc entirely.) However, when I look at the concepts of rumored upcoming projects - #1 superheroes, #2 automobiles - I shudder. How many more can they hit out of the park? I reserve my greatest apprehension for the superhero one simply because the characters are human - a first for a Pixar movie. And we all know how goofy CG people look.

And what's left? They've done toys (twice), bugs, monsters and fish. Maybe I can save them some time and put together a quick list.

• Germs. Already done in "Osmosis Jones," but who cares.
• Food in a refrigerator. Hero: the guy who turns out the light when you close the door. Villain: Mystery Meat.
• Kitchenware. Tagline: You will believe a pan can fry.
• Penguins. Or lemmings. Or rabbits. Or any relatively timid group of herd animals where the overriding theme can be individuality.
• Inside a computer. You know, with funny sentient programs and viruses and icons.
• Items in a closet. Tagline: This November, we're coming out.

Whatever they choose, I'm sure the world will deem it wonderful. UNTIL THE HAMMER FALLS.

We live in a development of townhouses, one that is loosely managed by a volunteer group of homeowners. Perhaps unrealistically, our Homeowners' Assocation has lately developed a need to create some kind of community amongst the 266 homes in the development. I find this sort of thing extremely unecessary, given as I am to stay to myself. I don't begrudge the desire to manufacture friends out of neighbors, but I don't feel especially obliged to participate. I pay my $20/month to cover whatever crackbaby schemes the Association might choose to fund, hope that my own lawn and garbage gets taken care of, and continue about my innocent existence.

But we get this newsletter approximately every month, which amounts to a fibercon dosage of the strange dichotomy of begging for friends on one hand and warning everyone to keep their noses clean or else. Each photocopied issue usually swings erratically between "Please let us know how we can help you" and "Keep your pets inside and quiet or we will call the police." It strikes me as being very normal and typical... and the unashamed use of Microsoft Clip Art seems to bear this out.

I thought I'd share some clippings from the most recent issue (a two page monster of bullet points and single-column layout) because I'm starting to worry about our Association President. Rhonda actually went to an open meeting once and found him to be completely exasperating and egotistical... and his writing indicates to me a man on the edge. Most of these quotes are from his post-mortem on the development's Halloween Party, a relatively new stab at this mythical community-building. The Association decorated one of the townhouse units in the usual pseudo-scary bric-a-brac, positioned some costumed volunteers to moan convincingly, pop out of plywood coffins, lead kids through a dark basement tour, and hand out candy. The article begins:

I wish we could have had more visitors to the Haunted House, but I believe the 240 or so that did come had a great time. ... Although it was designed to be non-threatening to younger children, older children and adults whose imaginations could get away from them did get excited sometime. (sic)

As I said, we have 266 homes here. Considering that a Haunted House is primarily a family/children-related offering, 240 people sounds pretty fucking amazing to me. Since Rhonda and I don't fit into that category - and I doubt we would have showed up even if we did have kids - I suppose I could complain about my monthly dues being used on this sort of thing. I won't though; it's okay. Just don't ask me to help.

Then he launches into a list of thank-yous, including this precious aside:

Beth was my most pleasant surprise. When I approached her to help I expected her to say "yes" and then blow me off like most people do.

This is where I start to wonder. Why telegraph this feeling, this deep-seated distrust of people, in the happy monthly newsletter? Here's another quote from a later acknowledgement...

She deserves most of the credit for putting up with my frustrated swearing tantrums that I didn't dare let anyone else see or hear.

Unstable. Completely unstable. If a frickin' Halloween party inspires frustrated swearing tantrums then you're trying far too hard. Put out a goddamn dish of candy and walk away. This next one was slipped in at the end of a long string of individual praise...

...helped in setting up the house and in making the food for the cast party after the show.

There was a cast party? Sheesh. I wonder if Mike got any food, because...

Mike was our attic spook in the garage. It's a shame his puppet skeleton wouldn't stay together.

Our President seems incapable of glossing over small failures. Poor Mike's skeleton must have come apart at the seams a couple times, but I doubt it ruined the experience for the lines of sub-ten year olds being led through on promise of candy. Again, why bring this up in the newsletter? Why hang Mike publicly, dangling like his obviously deficient puppet, as if he let the whole group down? I wonder if that damned skeleton inspired one of those near-psychotic swearing fits. Then there's the inevitable conclusion:

Thank you all!!! As irritable as I got I'm very proud of our results. Jeff

I guess we're supposed to be sympathetic at this point. Here's old Jeff, doing his best to throw together a gala Halloween festival, and the whole thing teetered so dangerously on the point of destruction. But he did it for you, fellow homeowners. Like a good soldier, he did the right thing for the right reasons... but you better be aware of how difficult and frustrating the whole thing was. Jesus, man. If your objective was to make us all feel uneasy and embarrassed, mission accomplished.

This dude is strongly broadcasting how miserable he is and how we all disappoint him. It's rather ironic that a few paragraphs after the Halloween dissertation he's asking somebody to volunteer to replace him.

I have had over six years of service ... and I need a break!

These next quotes aren't specifically attributed to Jeff, but they capture his special desparation and melancholy so well that I feel they must be his.

An increase [in monthly dues] is inevitable at some time. We've never had one, so prepare yourselves.

While [a proposed independant management company] seems to be a very good company, their basic proposal would only cover our minimum needs and wouldn't meet the level of service historically offered by our self-managing boards. Certainly this would make life for the Board members much easier.

We are in need of reliable and eager volunteers to participate in the annual property inspections next year. Due to the lack of participation and busy schedules, the process was very long and drawn out this year.

And the final item is a request for ideas for a community Christmas activity. Good fucking christ if I have to endure people caroling...

"JLA/Avengers" is on book 2 (of 4) and it is an absolute fanboy dream. It's the kind of book that rewards readers who know their comics history. Every page includes something to recognize, a character in the background, a famous setting, a spoken reference. Although I could do without the requisite annoying Crime Syndicate cameo.

Thus far, it strikes me as the story that could have been "DC vs. Marvel" if that miniseries hadn't devolved into a marketing gimmick of Popular Character X fights Popular Character Y. In "JLA/Avengers," the two teams are forced to collect various items of power (including such storied trinkets as the Spear of Destiny, GL's Power Battery, the Cosmic Cube, and the Ultimate Nullifier.) As the two groups find out, they're being manipulated by the Grandmaster into playing an interdimensional game as part of a wager with Krona... who intends to destroy the Marvel Universe as part of his endless quest for knowledge.

The mixture of elements from Marvel and DC creates some wonderful images. Iron Man integrating a Mother Box into his armor. Darkseid wielding the Infinity Gauntlet. But the best part of the series is how intricately the dialogue reveals the distinct differences between the Marvel characters and the DC characters. It's as if someone made a list of what distinguishes the two, and then wrote the story to play off those components. Actually, I'm sure that's what writer Kurt Busiek did.

In the Marvel Universe, the Flash gets beat up by a throng of mutant-hating townspeople... contrasted to the Avengers finding the Flash Museum and astonished at how the DC Universe populace reveres their heroes. Batman meets the Thing and remarks to Captain America about his "rough edged charm"... punctuating the almost complete lack of monstrous heroes in the whitebread human DCU. Cap trying to connect with Batman because they both lost a kid partner. Superman claims the Marvel Earth is physically smaller than the DC Earth, a subtle way to emphasize that DC characters have been in continuous publication since the 1930s while the Marvel stable first came together in the 1960s (albeit with some borrowed and forgotten characters from the 1940s.)

And Hawkeye referring to the JLA as a wanna-be Squadron Supreme! A throwaway gag that only die-hards will appreciate!

George Perez, the artist of "JLA/Avengers" is truly a comics legend, and it's great to see him work on a series of this magnitude. He is a master of panel layout, taking pains to create symmetry on the page and visual connections between events separated by time or distance. His use of tiny little panels to make individual reaction shots or capture fleeting moments is genius. This is interactive reading, a fine example of how the page itself can be manipulated to help tell the story.

Then there's "Batman/Joker: Switch", a new one-shot that shipped this week. Sucks. Suckity suckity suck suck sucks.

I guess I have to blame writer Devin Grayson, but I used to love her character work on Titans, so I feel like it isn't all her fault. Something just goes incredibly wrong with this story, and it ends up being a complicated excuse for John Bolton (who is a great artist) to paint misshapen failed plastic surgery patients.

"Switch" begins with - and utterly abuses - the image of a confused Joker with no mouth. The visual of a mouthless, grinless Joker is indeed arresting... since the toothy smile is as much a part of the character as the green hair and chalky skin. But we soon find out that his mouth has been moved to the back of his neck. Still talking, moving, in perfect working order. Which just strikes me as stupid.

In fact, the crazy doctor who did this to Joker is revealed to have an entire cadre of people who have had various facial parts sewn up and relocated. One attractive girl gets her left eye shifted to below her cheek. I don't ask a lot of comics in general, but it's far too much for me to accept that a mouth can be moved from the front of the head to the back and still work fine. Especially in a Batman book, where I generally expect a relatively high baseline of reality.

I could probably get past the bizarre demonic surgery if the story made any coherant sense at all. Much of it is Joker rambling - even worse than usual since he's drugged up and half-amnesiac for most of the story. The "switch" referred to in the title indicates that Joker is investigating his own case, trying to find out who moved his mouth. IE, Joker acting as the detective Batman, permutated through his typical routine of warped logic and cruel killing. The entire mystery of Who did this and Why is resolved in less than three pages, and it's not even anything compelling or interesting: just that the doctor likes to deform people ("it's art") and Joker agreed to run cover for him but then forgot about it.

Perhaps he forgot because of the intense medication required for the operation. Perhaps because he simply thought it would be funny to pretend to forget. (He winks at the end of the book, maybe to indicate that he knew more than he let on.) Whether or not Joker was pulling a joke on Batman and/or the doctor is too boring to even consider. If he knew it was all a pre-arranged plan with the doctor, then the entire story is pointless. If he didn't, then it's just a prolonged exercise through gruesome painted panels until the inevitable scene where Batman punches his lights out.

I don't mind the imagery of disfigured people. It makes for some cool and weird positioning as Joker's lips talk from the back of his head while his eyes continue to react normally from the front. One particular panel where he leans conspiratorially towards Batman is especially funny. But you have to back it up with some semblance of story.