(My Original Blog Post: http://ping.fm/8Rhky)
Tonight I was watching my wife play this sequence in Bayonetta. It starts you in front of a short cut scene which then transitions to a platforming segment. The platforming segment is, if we break it down to its most basic elements, mostly pushing forward while pressing x(a) intermittently.
Immediately afterwards, there is a Quick Time Event (hereafter QTE), which takes you into the boss fight, but which amounts to the same thing - press x(a) and forward at the signalled time. It seems like a small thing, and I will admit that I may be making a big deal out of nothing, but I like to read statements into gameplay experiences as a way of understanding a designer. QTEs get a bad rap from a lot of hardcore gamers these days, in many cases suggesting that games which utilize them are somehow akin to Dragon's Lair.
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However, if I may be permitted to read into the gameplay, it almost looks like a statement of equivocation. On the one hand, there is a justifiable backlash against having "Advent Children" fight scenes that have little to do with player input, but on the other, this can be overstated and extends baseless criticism to QTEs that aren't doing anything different from what might be considered a pretty standard platforming element.
Undoubtedly I am reading into the game to some degree or another, but I think elements like this are another measure of quality in the sense that they can betray designer consideration even on tiny details.
Another valid point that my wife brought up was that it's only unexpected QTEs which tend to irk. In the God of War series and other games like it there are often QTEs which occur at expected times: the halfway or end points of the health meter. This feels rhythmic and gives spectacular endings to boss battles. However having random QTEs in the middle of a boss fight with little to no signalling (and which force you sit through a loading screen over and over), as occurs in Bayonetta is taking it a bit too far. It's clear that Bayonetta is rooting for the mechanic (as am I), but what isn't clear is how many QTEs are too many.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Fugidono
(My Original Blog Post: http://ping.fm/gLgwq)
The darkness rang three times. Again!
As I sat on the toilet and the shower wept.
The rainbow creep and the cyanide theft
Were planning a day at the beach for Din.
The darkness rang three times. Again!
As I sat on the toilet and the shower wept.
The rainbow creep and the cyanide theft
Were planning a day at the beach for Din.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
I, Golgafrinchan
(My Original Blog Post: http://ping.fm/t3QGS)
Ah the setback, leaving you so far behind, which is only where we've always been. Help us take a stand here, do it cheaper, faster, better. Refine, and cease ceaseless engraving, no new channels, just new content. Better content. Made by all of us. The best will still rise to the top without the middle managers.
Ah the setback, leaving you so far behind, which is only where we've always been. Help us take a stand here, do it cheaper, faster, better. Refine, and cease ceaseless engraving, no new channels, just new content. Better content. Made by all of us. The best will still rise to the top without the middle managers.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Letter Sequencing
(My Original Blog Post: http://ping.fm/kbztU)
I've been pondering this question for quite some time, so I want to emphasize here that I'm very excited to have come up with an answer, despite the dry nature of the medium at hand. Indeed, I'm struggling not to trip over my words even now, although I doubt this will seem in any way exciting to you, my readers.
One of the questions that Sefer Yetsirah raised for me was the question of how to read a word. Now, to clarify, I mean that in SY, each letter becomes a dense unit of information. This information is processed by us as gnosis. There are two states that usually are common when processing gnosis, the realization and the recollection. When realizing a unit of gnosis, an epiphany, there is an initial rush, a sense of muted, but potent euphoria that occurs - Ezekiel's gleam of amber (there is a four stage process that occurs en route to that state but that's another story). Later recollections are typically not as strong, but are capable of expanding the conceptual container more easily. When contemplating the letters individually in this way, I use books like this one to create an array of meaning in my mind, thereby opening up the unit of gnosis as a container, from which I can draw information or store it. But a word? That's not so easy.
However, SY presents us with a dilemma, as the letter arrays seem to be two characters, and we've only dealt with one: "Weigh them and transpose them, Aleph with each one, and each one with Aleph; Bet with each one, and each one with Bet. They repeat in a cycle." So how do we discover the relationship between the two letters in sequence? We can hold both gnosis concepts in our minds, but how they should interact isn't specified.
Or is it?
Kaplan talks about the concept of 'thesis-antithesis-synthesis' which can be derived from the 'pan of merit, pan of liability and the tongue that decides' phrase at the beginning of chapter two. This is how one is to derive meaning from two letters - first see the concept of letter 1 as the thesis, look at how letter 2 opposes it, then how they can be resolved. Then reverse the order and repeat the process. So if we are talking about the two letter sequence Alef-Beit, then we have a 4 step process.
A word then, simply requires you to resolve each letter pair in sequence, like this: Alef-Beit, Beit-Gimel, etc... So that's how you do a word. However, the conjoining of all of these states into one fulfills the last half of chapter two: "Therefore, everything formed and everything spoken emanates in one name." The one name is the information container (kli) derived from the assimilation of all combined letter states, like a sword that has been strengthened by alloying. This is the Golem of legend. It is a lower resolution imago of the One Name (Baruch Hashem!). I believe that once the Golem has been created, it is possible to create effects simply by pronouncing a single word - because when all words spring forth from the supernal Torah, the law becomes a staff in the hand of the prophet.
I've been pondering this question for quite some time, so I want to emphasize here that I'm very excited to have come up with an answer, despite the dry nature of the medium at hand. Indeed, I'm struggling not to trip over my words even now, although I doubt this will seem in any way exciting to you, my readers.
One of the questions that Sefer Yetsirah raised for me was the question of how to read a word. Now, to clarify, I mean that in SY, each letter becomes a dense unit of information. This information is processed by us as gnosis. There are two states that usually are common when processing gnosis, the realization and the recollection. When realizing a unit of gnosis, an epiphany, there is an initial rush, a sense of muted, but potent euphoria that occurs - Ezekiel's gleam of amber (there is a four stage process that occurs en route to that state but that's another story). Later recollections are typically not as strong, but are capable of expanding the conceptual container more easily. When contemplating the letters individually in this way, I use books like this one to create an array of meaning in my mind, thereby opening up the unit of gnosis as a container, from which I can draw information or store it. But a word? That's not so easy.
However, SY presents us with a dilemma, as the letter arrays seem to be two characters, and we've only dealt with one: "Weigh them and transpose them, Aleph with each one, and each one with Aleph; Bet with each one, and each one with Bet. They repeat in a cycle." So how do we discover the relationship between the two letters in sequence? We can hold both gnosis concepts in our minds, but how they should interact isn't specified.
Or is it?
Kaplan talks about the concept of 'thesis-antithesis-synthesis' which can be derived from the 'pan of merit, pan of liability and the tongue that decides' phrase at the beginning of chapter two. This is how one is to derive meaning from two letters - first see the concept of letter 1 as the thesis, look at how letter 2 opposes it, then how they can be resolved. Then reverse the order and repeat the process. So if we are talking about the two letter sequence Alef-Beit, then we have a 4 step process.
- Consider Alef as a concept.
- Consider Beit as it is different from Alef.
- Consider how those differences could be resolved.
- Switch Alef and Beit, then begin again.
A word then, simply requires you to resolve each letter pair in sequence, like this: Alef-Beit, Beit-Gimel, etc... So that's how you do a word. However, the conjoining of all of these states into one fulfills the last half of chapter two: "Therefore, everything formed and everything spoken emanates in one name." The one name is the information container (kli) derived from the assimilation of all combined letter states, like a sword that has been strengthened by alloying. This is the Golem of legend. It is a lower resolution imago of the One Name (Baruch Hashem!). I believe that once the Golem has been created, it is possible to create effects simply by pronouncing a single word - because when all words spring forth from the supernal Torah, the law becomes a staff in the hand of the prophet.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Your hands, My perspective
(My Original Blog Post: http://ping.fm/5jxbX)
Four watchmen entered PaRDeS — Dr. Manhattan, Rorschach, Ozymandias, and Nite Owl. Dr. Manhattan looked too deeply and departed forever; Rorschach looked and went mad; Ozymandias destroyed the shoots; only Nite Owl entered in peace and departed in peace.
Four watchmen entered PaRDeS — Dr. Manhattan, Rorschach, Ozymandias, and Nite Owl. Dr. Manhattan looked too deeply and departed forever; Rorschach looked and went mad; Ozymandias destroyed the shoots; only Nite Owl entered in peace and departed in peace.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Misdigestion
(My Original Blog Post: http://ping.fm/cN4Qv)
stomach cramps and weekly pains
try to find a shoeless joe
searching blindly in the rain
to the tules, this i know
touch the wretched as they fear
baseless hate and twisted wire
find the smile as otters leer
as we deftly pull out fire
insert here tab a slot b
do not ruffle up the shiv
if you live you cannot sea
i have nothing more to give
stomach cramps and weekly pains
try to find a shoeless joe
searching blindly in the rain
to the tules, this i know
touch the wretched as they fear
baseless hate and twisted wire
find the smile as otters leer
as we deftly pull out fire
insert here tab a slot b
do not ruffle up the shiv
if you live you cannot sea
i have nothing more to give
Monday, May 18, 2009
What was.
(My Original Blog Post: http://ping.fm/7jm9L)
As a child, I was full of faith. Not just faith in the religious sense, but faith in the people around me, and in the goodness of the world. I was devout in the way that many true believers are, following all of the social protocols, proselytizing constantly and often obnoxiously, and most of all repeating back everything taught to me. I desperately wanted to belong. And as time went on, I did come to belong. I sang with the worship team, mixed sound for the church band, and put out chairs for the audiences as we did street-preaching on Main Street. I lead the "Alive in Him" club at my high school for a time. I studied in Greek and Hebrew, analyzing verses word by word for a meaning that would move my fellow believers. I wrote sermons for effect, and practiced them under the tutelage of the pastors of our local church. I sometimes even did well enough that I moved people to tears. And in retrospect, I think I was mostly happy in that area of my life.
But there were problems. Privately, I was a deeply depressed individual for much of my high school career. The depth of emotion that allowed me to move others also let me peer deeply into an abyss for which I was not, at that time, prepared. More than dreaming, I had waking visions, and felt compelled to act out strange experiments. I would sit alone in my room and repeat the most hurtful things said to me by various people over and over again, annihilating all sense of self worth that I might have. I felt that my work was useless and that I wasn't helping anyone, that perhaps I was only doing it all to be seen, and to be liked for it. The self-recrimination became a constant buzz in my head, causing me to lose focus whenever I sang, or spoke in front of a crowd. Even when I was just helping out around the church, I could feel it. Not only that, but to add to the oddity of my life, my late grandfather passed on to me a small bible, which in the back had a chart of the numerical values of the letters of the Greek alphabet. Asking around about it got me some very strange looks. Soon it was time to prep for college, a church affiliated school in this case, and I just didn't feel it. I felt alienated from the rest of the church people I had grown accustomed to, but for the most part, knew no one else.
It was at that point that two things happened to me: 1) The girl I really liked utterly crushed me, and 2) I got into a car accident. The first was pretty pathetic really. I called her often and was typically desperate as only the virginal can be. She wasn't really interested in me, because I wasn't really an interesting person. I had been so wrapped up in fitting in, that all of the things that could have made me seem interesting were entirely buried beneath the template self I had built up. Still, it wasn't really a very nice thing to say... "Why are you laughing at me?" "Because I can." Nevertheless, it was probably as dramatic a moment as any angsty teenager could really hope to have happen to them, barring comparisons to movie moments or horrific abuse of some sort. I lost 20 or 30 pounds in a month, and ended up seeing a psychiatrist, who recommended Demian by Herman Hesse to me. The second was sudden and swift. I was messing with the radio in my truck while talking to a friend on a ramp between two freeways. I hit the edge of the curb and flipped my truck two or three times. Neither of us was hurt badly, although my friend did break his finger. After that nothing felt the same. The joy of going to church services and being around the people there was gone. I felt nothing, as though a limb had been cut off. I left in the middle of the first service I went to after the accident, went to the bathroom and just sat there until it ended. I couldn't stay any longer.
And I didn't. My parents had planned a month long trip to the East Coast, and I went with them, discovering as I went, that I was okay with being something different. Something broken, surely, but not bad. After the trip, I left home. I stayed with friends and wandered at intervals. I did not know where I was going, for the first time, and it felt good. My skills served me well. Gematria came to be more than just a curiosity to me, and the study of Hebrew is something I have continued. The vanity I feared is no longer a concern. I am now safely unpleasant to the eyes, and my voice chokes up around people I don't know. I don't think that Christianity failed me, nor that I was somehow lacking as a believer. I think I was awkward at everything I did, often self-sabotaging and conformist. I failed because I needed to know what was behind the curtains and the quickest way out is through the abject.
I don't remember why I was the person who would preach to anyone. I can't remember whether I was really happy or if it was just a delusion. I don't even remember what it feels like to be so self-assured. Aikeena used to talk about waking up a different person, and I knew what he meant, then and now. I learned not to trust people, because whenever I went into a group of new people, there were loads of history that I could sense, but not know until it was too late. The volatility that substance usage added to all my social situations later on made it imperative that I not extend trust to people even after years of knowing them. I learned that some people will hurt you because they can, not just by laughing at you, but with fists and knives and guns. I learned that our reality, despite the appearance of stability, is a weak and tinny song that can be silenced at any moment. I learned that peace and reason are not infinite commodities, but rare and sacred when they can be found. Most of all, I learned that having faith means continuing to try and build a better world out of the muck and mire in which we often find ourselves. It means knowing that you will not complete the work, but neither may you desist from it. It means that we rarely acknowledge through action how much we need each other, and yet it is together that we inherit our greatest strengths.
As a child, I was full of faith. Not just faith in the religious sense, but faith in the people around me, and in the goodness of the world. I was devout in the way that many true believers are, following all of the social protocols, proselytizing constantly and often obnoxiously, and most of all repeating back everything taught to me. I desperately wanted to belong. And as time went on, I did come to belong. I sang with the worship team, mixed sound for the church band, and put out chairs for the audiences as we did street-preaching on Main Street. I lead the "Alive in Him" club at my high school for a time. I studied in Greek and Hebrew, analyzing verses word by word for a meaning that would move my fellow believers. I wrote sermons for effect, and practiced them under the tutelage of the pastors of our local church. I sometimes even did well enough that I moved people to tears. And in retrospect, I think I was mostly happy in that area of my life.
But there were problems. Privately, I was a deeply depressed individual for much of my high school career. The depth of emotion that allowed me to move others also let me peer deeply into an abyss for which I was not, at that time, prepared. More than dreaming, I had waking visions, and felt compelled to act out strange experiments. I would sit alone in my room and repeat the most hurtful things said to me by various people over and over again, annihilating all sense of self worth that I might have. I felt that my work was useless and that I wasn't helping anyone, that perhaps I was only doing it all to be seen, and to be liked for it. The self-recrimination became a constant buzz in my head, causing me to lose focus whenever I sang, or spoke in front of a crowd. Even when I was just helping out around the church, I could feel it. Not only that, but to add to the oddity of my life, my late grandfather passed on to me a small bible, which in the back had a chart of the numerical values of the letters of the Greek alphabet. Asking around about it got me some very strange looks. Soon it was time to prep for college, a church affiliated school in this case, and I just didn't feel it. I felt alienated from the rest of the church people I had grown accustomed to, but for the most part, knew no one else.
It was at that point that two things happened to me: 1) The girl I really liked utterly crushed me, and 2) I got into a car accident. The first was pretty pathetic really. I called her often and was typically desperate as only the virginal can be. She wasn't really interested in me, because I wasn't really an interesting person. I had been so wrapped up in fitting in, that all of the things that could have made me seem interesting were entirely buried beneath the template self I had built up. Still, it wasn't really a very nice thing to say... "Why are you laughing at me?" "Because I can." Nevertheless, it was probably as dramatic a moment as any angsty teenager could really hope to have happen to them, barring comparisons to movie moments or horrific abuse of some sort. I lost 20 or 30 pounds in a month, and ended up seeing a psychiatrist, who recommended Demian by Herman Hesse to me. The second was sudden and swift. I was messing with the radio in my truck while talking to a friend on a ramp between two freeways. I hit the edge of the curb and flipped my truck two or three times. Neither of us was hurt badly, although my friend did break his finger. After that nothing felt the same. The joy of going to church services and being around the people there was gone. I felt nothing, as though a limb had been cut off. I left in the middle of the first service I went to after the accident, went to the bathroom and just sat there until it ended. I couldn't stay any longer.
And I didn't. My parents had planned a month long trip to the East Coast, and I went with them, discovering as I went, that I was okay with being something different. Something broken, surely, but not bad. After the trip, I left home. I stayed with friends and wandered at intervals. I did not know where I was going, for the first time, and it felt good. My skills served me well. Gematria came to be more than just a curiosity to me, and the study of Hebrew is something I have continued. The vanity I feared is no longer a concern. I am now safely unpleasant to the eyes, and my voice chokes up around people I don't know. I don't think that Christianity failed me, nor that I was somehow lacking as a believer. I think I was awkward at everything I did, often self-sabotaging and conformist. I failed because I needed to know what was behind the curtains and the quickest way out is through the abject.
I don't remember why I was the person who would preach to anyone. I can't remember whether I was really happy or if it was just a delusion. I don't even remember what it feels like to be so self-assured. Aikeena used to talk about waking up a different person, and I knew what he meant, then and now. I learned not to trust people, because whenever I went into a group of new people, there were loads of history that I could sense, but not know until it was too late. The volatility that substance usage added to all my social situations later on made it imperative that I not extend trust to people even after years of knowing them. I learned that some people will hurt you because they can, not just by laughing at you, but with fists and knives and guns. I learned that our reality, despite the appearance of stability, is a weak and tinny song that can be silenced at any moment. I learned that peace and reason are not infinite commodities, but rare and sacred when they can be found. Most of all, I learned that having faith means continuing to try and build a better world out of the muck and mire in which we often find ourselves. It means knowing that you will not complete the work, but neither may you desist from it. It means that we rarely acknowledge through action how much we need each other, and yet it is together that we inherit our greatest strengths.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. (Psalm 23:5)
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