Literary Gaming

So I grew up with games. As a kid I remember making my own board games out of sheets of plywood, painting the pathways and scenery on the board straight from my imagination. My grandfather would help me cut the game pieces from wooden dowels and other similar things and I'd paint them different colors and make instructional sheets on index cards. I even went so far as to type up the instruction boolet on my grandmother's typewriter. It came full-tilt with a custom illustrated outer cover made from construction paper, which I cut to the perfect size and stapled to the rest of the booklet. I was pretty crafty. I didn't realize the implications then, but as I sat there typing instructions for my games I was surely writing stories. After all, what good is a game without some sort of plot or goal to reach? Can this be considered literature?

Maybe, maybe not. At least, not at that level. There needs to be something more to it.

Some time later I got sucked into these new games that could be played on our television via something called a "controller". The first games I ever played were Karnov and Super Mario Brothers/Duck Hunt back when the original 8-bit NES was new. We had two of them - one at our house and one at grandma's. That was it, I'm telling you. It was too cool for words. Over some years these games became more and more intricate, and I have the fondest memories playing games with my brother and our friends and cousins. But for the times when they weren't around, I endlessly enjoyed immersing myself in RPGs. Final Fantasy II and III, Breath of Fire, and Chrono Trigger specifically. Those were really something else. I still recall those games as having some of the best story lines in the genre of Fantasy that I've ever known. Perhaps it was just because I was younger. Still, I think if someone ever takes the initiative to adapt those games into movies they'd be some of the best Sci-Fi films we've seen in a long time. I'd say they may even be up there with The Lord of the Rings, if done properly.

I think people interested in the Fantasy genre owe it to themselves to find a way, if they have not done so already, by which to go through one of those original RPG games and appreciate them for themselves. At some point the boundary between the medium, technology progression, and reality blurs such that you forget about how primitive the games are (compared to today's technology) and simply immerse yourself in the experience. Ultimately it isn't about how realistic we can make things look and sound. The most realistic-looking games in existence are nothing without that which made those old games truly original. There really isn't anything else like them. They are fairly epic stories, involving dozens of characters and sub-plots within the main structure. The stories and characters arc just as they do in books and movies. If you ask me I'd say that they are, in fact, literary experiences. They have that extra "something". The dialog may be simplified, but it is no less effective or emotional.

Paul Thomas Anderson

One of the most prominent aspects of Paul Thomas Anderson's films that I've noticed is his use of longer shots. Most of them are rather stationary, while some move quite a bit, often following one of the characters through an environment of some kind. I watched There Will Be Blood, Punch Drunk Love, and Magnolia. Of the three I think Magnolia is one I could do without. I'm just not into that kind of drama. I felt like I was watching a condensed soap opera and there were times I was questioning the integrity of some scenes and character behavior. I would describe it as overly dramatic. Still, Anderson's signature long shots and expressive camera angles are working to carry the story forward.

He seems to like the idea of stretching out time, only to later condense it or cut out equally large chunks. I felt that this was a good way of making the passage of time more noticeable. Again, his use of longer shots helps support this. At times he focuses in on subtle things, relying on the actors or some other thing to carry the weight of the shot. His cameras take more of a voyeuristic role in a sense. He does it intentionally. I personally like it. It really helps to push the immediacy of what's going on in the story when he does it.

Interview of sorts with a vampire

Interview with a Vampire - the bad version
Scene 1 (fortunately before the title and credit sequence, which had to be omitted because it made the film look poorly produced)

https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/16457590/IWAV_1.mp4

The Evolution of Communication

My Generation

My Generation. Wasn't that the name of a Limp Bizkit song? I'm fairly sure it was. I haven't heard anything from them in a while. I suppose that's OK since I really haven't missed them. They had their time in my disc changer and now it seems that I've lost my taste for hot dog flavored water. Music always seems to have this sense of nostalgia surrounding it. A person can listen to a song and hear it again some time later and almost instantly recall the previous moment in time in a similar way that a scent does. Sensory perception is a curious thing... separate facets of experience curiously interconnected.

I suppose you could say the same thing holds true for different generations, though in a different light. Media transcends generations, thus connecting them in fascinating ways. While the generations do have things about them that clearly define them, each generation's characteristics inevitably lead the way for those that follow. So to define a generation you almost have to look for things that came and went during it's time.

Limp Bizkit came to mind as soon as I said the words "my generation" because from somewhere in the aisles of my brain I recalled it. Is hot dog flavored water a defining characteristic of my generation? No, though it does allude to a time in my own past that is heavily saturated with it. In my mind I tend to think of defining characteristics as those that have major impact on society and peoples' lives in general. Hot dog flavored water never made much of an impact on anything. Oh well.

I also believe defining characteristics can themselves be defined by generations. Consider this:

After listening to my mother reflect that her philosophy of life was developed from the original Star Trek television series and watching Star Trek reruns myself throughout my childhood, I believe that the series can be classified as defining the generation that grew into adulthood in the 1960’s and 70’s, the Baby Boomers.

The 60’s and early 70’s were a time of turmoil in the world: the Cold War; the raising of the Berlin Wall; the Civil Rights Movement; the Vietnam War; the Hippie Movement; the Woman’s Rights Movement; The Cuban Missile Crisis; the assassinations of President Kennedy, Martin Luther King, and Senator Robert Kennedy; the Arab-Israeli War; the terrorist attack on the Olympics in Munich; Watergate and the resignation of President Nixon… It was also the time of Martin Luther King’s famous “I Have a Dream” speech and the birth of true equality under the law. President Kennedy challenged scientists to put a man on the moon before the end of the decade and the space race against the Russians began, culminating with a landing on the Moon by the USA in 1969. It was a time of growing awareness of the injustices of the past, creating a restless desire to right those wrongs.  James Michener wrote Centennial in the 70’s which focused attention on protection of the environment, pollution being a severe problem in those years, and put aside the myth of the American Indian as the bad guy and instead focused attention of the attempted extermination of the Native American tribes.   

Children of my mom's and dad’s generation were raised by those of World Wars I and II, but the wars of their parent’s and grandparent’s generations had been successful against overwhelming enemies. Movies and books of their day glorified victories and war, but the reality of the failure of Vietnam had a very different effect on the Baby Boomers. They lived in a world that was post-atomic bomb. They lived in fear that the Communists, who also had the bomb, could turn it on America at any time. The weapon that ended World War II was now a tool of war which threatened the entire world. 

It was fitting then, that a series called Star Trek would come along to take everyone’s imagination out into space, beyond the moon and into a future where peace had come to the Earth and humans united to keep the peace with other species in outer space. The series only lasted three years, but in syndication it became a phenomenon, impacting a whole generation. The crew of the Enterprise was a captain from Iowa, a Scottish engineer, a Japanese helmsman, a Russian navigator, a country doctor, an African woman communications officer, and an alien science officer; a fascinating combination of characters who all got along and were devoted to each other, the crew, and the ship…..and to peace.   

Nichelle Nichols who played Uhura (Swahili for Freedom), said that she would have turned down the a permanent role on the show except that she was encouraged to change her mind by Martin Luther King who was a fan of the show. He told her that her character symbolized a future where all people lived in harmony.   Dr. King encouraged her by saying, “…for the first time, we're seen as we should be seen. You don't have a black role. You have an equal role.” 

Gene Roddenberry brought many social issues into the episodes of Star Trek. In many episodes racism was symbolically represented through the experiences of aliens…… Racism was primarily focused on the aliens of Star Trek from Spock, half Vulcan/half human and his pointed ears to other aliens met along the way. Let That Be Your Last Battlefield (airdate 1/10/69),  an episode about two half-white half-black beings from the planet Cheron who brought their racial hatred to the Enterprise, resonated with a powerful message about racial hatred.   

War and peace were also subjects of the series. Intervening in the affairs of other planets was forbidden…the Prime Directive. Many of the episodes dealt with the crew of the Enterprise trying not to affect the cultures of the people they encountered in the galaxy although sometimes they failed.  The Federation was seen as the peace-keeper in the galaxy as America was becoming the peace-keeping power in the world at that time. Overall, I get the feeling war was seen as something to be avoided. The Baby Boomers grew up in the shadow of real war (a seemingly endless war) and looked back at World War I and II and the Korean War and wondered if there would ever be real peace. At least on the Earth of the 23^rd century peace was a reality. One episode, A Taste of Armageddon, was a mockery of war in which a war lasting generations continued with computer simulated battles and casualties. The people “killed” in the computer model reported to be disintegrated. The routine continued until they became aware there was a better way.

Star Trek, the original series, was only the beginning of a collection of movies and spin-off television series that crossed into the lives of the children of the Baby Boomers and gave them the chance to experience the power of the stories of the original series. The creators of the original Star Trek series reflected on the social issues through their medium, and carried a generation with them. Many of the issues are ones we still wonder about to this day. They continue to serve as reminders of the work we still have to do and the best hopes we have for our world, although peace seems even more elusive today than it did 50 years ago. In my family, I know the tradition will continue into the next generation. My mother and my brother have already introduced my 2 ½ year-old son to Star Trek.  Live long and prosper! 

So it's interesting to see how creative works like Star Trek can be both defined by a generation and simultaneously define the next generation as well. Wait... wasn't that the name of a Star Trek series? I'm fairly sure it was.

Reflections in Landscape

Girl in Landscape is one of the strangest stories I have ever read, but at the same time it is also very well written.  I often found myself feeling sorry for the characters because Earth had become a horrible place to live yet their lives on the Planet of the Archbuilders weren’t much better.  Sure, they could go out in the open air on their new planet, but now they were victims of a meaningless existence, an existence that seemed to lead them nowhere but into each others’ business.  The store was a place of gossip, and the household deer were ever-present invaders of privacy.

In spite of my feelings for the characters and the problems they had on the planet, I found myself drawn to the story by the use of similes and metaphors and the elaborate phrasing with which the story was written.  I am quite fond of poetic writing. The incredibly rich imagery gave me the power to transport myself into their world…..as another watcher, perhaps. 

I can see this novel adapted into a movie with a really great soundtrack, there is always a special mental image that accompanies text like this that would be ultimately spoiled by someone else's vision. The book has no illustrations and I like it that way. The cover illustration gives some hints but not really enough to ruin it for me.

The most vivid imagery of the story was manifested in my mind via reference to light. Throughout the book, the author constantly sets the mood in the scenes using shadow, brightness, and darkness.  At times the lighting was almost prophetic with a sense of foreboding of things to come.  Examples of this are as follows:

Efram’s confrontation and accusation of Hugh Merrow for his inappropriate attention to the alien he was painting:  The fading daylight shone too harshly on this scene.  Pella closed the door behind her, and it seemed a small act of mercy.

Pella’s visit to Efram’s house:  Efram closed the door behind her, squeezing away the last margin of sunlight, the effect was that of stepping from the day into the inner chamber of a star-lost spaceship, or an ancient tomb.

Pella’s visit to Efram’s house: She felt afraid, but again her words came out manic, assertive.  Her cheeks were glowing with heat.  She imagined they shone like beacons in this room and that they glowed like the colored lights.  She wanted to dip her fingers in the soda and wet her cheeks with it.

After the visit to Efram’s house:  The Kincaid’s house was lit, and Pella could see activity bubbling behind the curtains.  Efram stopped outside the penumbra of spilling light, at a rocky bend in the path, and lifted his heavy finger to point at the house. “There you go.”  She went ahead of him to the house, and didn’t turn until she reached the porch.  He stood like a monolith in the shadows, watching. 

Pella’s visit with Bruce: The lights of the house were behind her.  She knew Bruce couldn’t read her face.  She looked up at the shadowy ridge where Efram had last stood.  She could imagine him still there, a little back, veiled in darkness, watching the house.   

Of last note here, one poignant moment came to me even before the family left Earth.  I knew I was about to have a good experience with this book when I read Chapter 3.  Already fascinated with the way the author transformed Manhattan, I was drawin further in when I experienced the characters’ sorrow over the death of Pella’s mother, Caitlin.  The author had already portrayed extreme sadness over this event, but then, the last paragraph:

“Time heals, give it some time, what these poor kids need is time.” At the funeral everyone spoke of sorrow and time and then Clement led his motherless children and their sorrow into a tiny ship where they were frozen alive for a trip that lasted twenty months, but seemed to them an eye blink, a dream. So had they been given time? Or was their sorrow frozen with them?"

Definitely a passage worthy of reflection.

Girl in Landscape, in all its shadows, spoke of humanity’s (and alien’s) need for leadership that allows individual freedom of expression (limited government) rather than a dictator and a Big Brother of sorts (1984); posed the question of “what is normal?”; explored a world without creativity and the arts; and certainly gave us a look at what could happen if we don’t care for our planet.

Radio Program - The Thin Man

https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/16457590/db_TheThinMan.mp3

Tonight's show has been painfully brought to you by the burnt-out broadcasting company courtesy of one really tired producer

The act of reading

Reading experiences differ between people, just as anything else in this world is perceived in different ways by people of differing opinions and tastes. For those of us who are more visually oriented, we tend to be more interested in texts that contain pictures. We get a bit more out of them on some perceptive level seemingly unattainable by others. I've been in classes where instructors have absolutely no artistic sense at all. Some of these instructors have books published, spanning the vast worlds of economics and agriculture, rambling on and on over hundreds of pages of facts and theories completely devoid of pictures. Reading like this is extremely difficult if we are not interested in the subject matter. We're starving for something to look at and relate to. Something that connects our separated reality to it.

Novels are a different story. By nature they tend to paint clearer images in our heads than those other things. If based on facts they at least try to reach out and connect with us by giving us new concepts in ways that relate to everyone. It's fun to let the stories carry our imaginations where they will and allow the people and places to take form from our own perceptions. When we consider comics, however, something completely different is going on. The eloquent flow of text is blatantly interrupted by a barrage of pictures saying, "this is what it looks like." Now we have a complete reversal where the ommited text is replaced by a sort of polished storyboard sequence. In this form it is important for the visuals to speak for themselves. They are the main attraction and the text is only meant to supplement.

As a completely visual person, I find myself actually more interested in the drawings than anything the characters have to say. As a matter of fact, I find the simplified narrative dry and uninteresting. Without the visuals, the text wouldn't be able to support itself. I'm one of those people who would rather visualize a story how I want to see it. I'm not saying I don't like comics, but I do prefer to be challenged by a good read than have visuals spoon fed and spoil my often grander view of the scene. Often when going to see movies I have to remind myself that I'm watching someone else's interpretation and I usually base my level of satisfaction on how close the director's vision is to my own. That's me being human and having opinions about things. In that regard I'm no different than anyone else.

Now, I love silent films. The Lost World and The General are two of my all-time favorites. Speaking of The General, Buster Keaton's films were always prominent in my life growing up around my grandparents. My grandfather especially loved watching Keaton's movies. I grew up with an interest and appreciation for them along with classical music and, of course, visual art. My point here is that silent films need to carry most, if not all, of the narrative. Text is only interjected when some element of the story cannot be conveyed visually. 

The act of reading, then, if based on a person's perception, changes dramatically when images are introduced. The premise of reading changes because comics demand a different mindset. You don't sit down to read a comic strip expecting to be wined and dined with poetic passages of artfully chosen and well arranged words. Instead, you can let your sophisticated side relax a bit and be entertained on a more straightforward and controlled level. I hate to think what Gatsby would have been like if it were a comic. Actually, I'd rather not think about it.

Literary works?

Until this week I hadn't really given much thought to whether any given book or text was considered a "literary work." Call it what you will. Perhaps it's just me being naive. Aren't all books literary works? Does a literary work have to be a book? A magazine? A blog post? Maybe high school left something out. Perhaps it is a subject slightly beyond my common thinking where books are concerned. At first I didn't even understand the topic.

Why might The Great Gatsby be considered a literary work?

My initial reaction was that an adjective had been left out. I found myself trying to insert one that sounded appropriate. Why might The Great Gatsby be considered a "great" literary work? Important, classic, and timeless are a few other typical descriptors that came to mind. Despite these attempts it seems to be more a matter of misunderstanding than anything else. I wasn't thinking in terms of simply classifying Gatsby as a Literary work or something else. Initially I thought it was.

Now, having gained more insight and understanding in this matter, I feel like I can still say yes to all of the above. I've always approached reading with an open mind. I can't think of a single time in the past when I have ever set out to read a book (and this goes for movies, music, etc... as well) with the intent or even the slightest inclination to analyze and classify it as a work of art, or in this case, literature. Now, as I sit here, I find myself saying, "this is why you're in college, David. To expand your mind and broaden your horizons." A cliche' yes but nevertheless a fact that I now acknowledge and address with this blog post.

So what can I say about Gatsby? I enjoyed it. It did what it set out to do. It was read and it entertained it's reader. I found the passages and dialog flowing enough and satisfying to read. Poetic at times, which I like. This brings me to another point, which is that I enjoyed it as much as I did watching the film. Not the recent version, but the older one starring Robert Redford. I found it equally sincere in it's attempt to entertain me. It was just a different way to experience the same story. I'm certainly no authority on literary works. I've already established that. To me, anything can be a literary work.

In this case, I suppose one could instigate quite a lengthy discussion about the story being iconic and full of meaning and symbolism or how it may transcend generations with it's human drama. Take The Last Days of Disco, for example. Frequenting nightly festivities in one form or another to uphold your stature in the ranks of society, mixed up relationships, deception, etc... these are things that don't change. They haven't changed since Gatsby's days. Many things do change, but not those things. They will always be prevalent. It's our nature and we generally just can't help ourselves.

Anyway, a lot of things in life are about perception and point of view. Opinions and subjectivity. While a literary work as such may indeed meet a predefined list of points or other criteria, it certainly doesn't change what the words on the pages of novels say to us as they are presented in their raw form. They are stories, meant to entertain and enrich our lives in whatever ways they do. Maybe that is what being a literary work is all about after all. Identifying a human condition and relating it to those of us who don't know any better but are entertained and enriched by it all the same, each in our own way. It's a classification, as all things tend to be classified in one form or another. Like I said before, we can't help ourselves. It's some kind of strange need we have to classify things. Do we need to? We certainly want to. I hereby classify this post as a literary work. There, now this has been entertaining.

Assumptions of Reading

Coming into the OZ book at this point, I was more or less expecting the events of the story to be similar to the film, and for the most part they were. Having grown up with film I guess I was hoping to find the book staying true to it, since the film is all I knew of the story. I generally do not make assumptions about books or movies when approaching them, though. I like to take things as they are and appreciate what is being presented. Obviously any assumptions made on my part will simply be from outside influences such as previews and/or reviews, commercials, word of mouth, etc. Generally I like to experience these things with an open mind.

The Wizard of Oz & The Hunger Games

At first these two stories (in film form) did not seem to be all that similar. It's only when you're made aware of things on a heightened level that similarities begin to surface. But then the same could be said for just about any story, whether it be a film or a novel. Story structure and the development of the characters involved seems so obvious from one to the next once you're able to recognize these element in their most fundamental forms.

Here we have two stories centered around people of lower-level society being injected against their will into more lavish worlds of wealthier and fantastical inhabitants. The main characters must face these conditions by accepting and adapting to the rules of the environment. Unable to return by choice, they must complete an objective to reach their goals and return home.

In Dorothy's case, she's a bit more free in her ability to follow the path under her own motivation. It's not like she's going to die if she doesn't follow the road. She just wants to go home. Katniss doesn't really have a choice in the matter. She's been thrown into a game of survival where her only way out is to stay alive and win the tournament.

Plot details aside, the premise of the two stories is the same. A main female character is thrown (as I mentioned before) seemingly by chance into a world far greater in scope and wealth than her own and, once there, must learn how to adapt to her surroundings in order to drive the story and carry out the plot.

The leaders of these grand places seem to have their own thing going on, though the two scenarios are quite different. On one hand we have the all-powerful wizard. who runs the show under false pretenses from behind a curtain, turning knobs etc. at a control console in order to give the impression that he is more than he really is, which is nothing more than a self-glorified deceiver. The high-class society Katniss encounters isn't necessarily trying to deceive anyone, but rather it is the way in which the games are conducted that gives us a sense that the competition is not entirely all it seems to be from the outside world she comes from. It reminds me of Ridley Scott's Gladiator in some respects here, where in order to control the tournament, and subsequently the emperor, one must win the crowd. It is quite similar in The Hunger Games, where to be victorious, the tributes must win over the media and gain their support, thus having influence over the power of the games' authorities.

Both story lines meet on common ground near their conclusion, where each heroine achieves success through her own means, having adapted to her new environment, and is finally able to return home.