In which the theme is subverted, slightly

The world lies before me, continents outlined by a cerulean sea. My cities are tiny vector-graphics gems of green against the black of the united states. On the other side of the world, a red constellation marks the homesteads of the Soviet Union.

Words flash across the screen--DEFCON 5--and a warning klaxon sounds against the eerie ambient backdrop: orchestral swells and human voices, garbled radio and the coughs of the dying.

I will have only moments to place my radar dishes and silos, my airbases and fleets. Only moments to prepare for this, the final war. In only a few dozen heartbeats--DEFCON 4--the fleets will begin to move, and soon thereafter, fighters will scramble--DEFCON 3--as bombers are readied, and battle will be joined in the seas and the air.

Carriers and battleships will explode amid the tangled swarm of fighters and bombers dogfighting above the seas--DEFCON 2--as submarines attempt to slip by undetected, carrying a fatal payload into the heart of enemy territory.

And then--DEFCON 1--the missiles will come, first from submarines and bombers, and then from silos as defense is abandoned in favor of the annihilation of the enemy.

Cities will die. Nations will fall. And the irradiated ruins will linger for thousands of years. I will count myself extraordinarily lucky if I maintain even half my population through the next fifteen minutes.

This is Introversion Software's DEFCON, and it doesn't have to deliver its compelling tactical and strategic gameplay at the breakneck pace above, but I have never experienced anything else quite like the experience of watching the world go to hell in less than fifteen minutes.

Change the game-mode, and you can dial back the speed as far as you like, micromanaging the naval battles and watching the missiles arc slowly inward towards your city, portents of doom for millions of people.

You can watch, gripped by an incredible sense of anxiety, as missile after missile pour out of your air defense silos to intercept. Sometimes they succeed, but sometimes... a bright burst of white, an abscence of noise so loud it hurts, and emotionless text to fill the silence, telling you what was hit, and how many are dead.

The strategy of this game is deep, and can include metagame options, like forming and dissolving alliances, that, combined with its online multiplayer modes, provide games that can last for hours and still feel gripping. However, the online community is fairly small.

When the game came out, the usual forum suspects at Penny Arcade had a Game On thread, where they arranged games and discussed them afterwards, and generally exchanged stories. This thread died down after only two or perhaps three days, which confounded some members of the forumes who had only picked up the game a few days later, and come looking for people to play it with.

Everyone in the thread agreed that the game was beautiful in its simplicity, that the graphics were compelling and unique, that the gameplay was polished although some felt that Europe's position on the map gave it an unfair advantage. Apparently, the real world's geography was not created with game balance sufficiently in mind.

But the overwhelming response on the part of the thread's participants was that, while they had enjoyed the game, in some instances immensely, for its gameplay and opportunities for treachery and backstabbing, they felt that they had experienced everything it had to offer, and were comfortable moving on. And there was something eerie about experiencing nuclear cataclysm through such a stark and uncompromising lens.

The game's tagline, after all is Everyone Dies. Scrolling information in the background of the main menu discusses likelihood of surviving various levels of radiation exposure, and the halflives of radioactive subtances and isotopes, or the kiloton yield of the first nuclear weapon tested by each nation in the world. This is not a happy game about achieving your dreams and saving the world. There are no Pokemon here, nor any invading alien menace.

I find it intensely compelling nontheless. I always play with the score set to Survivors mode: you get no points for killing, only for keeping your own citizens alive. Of course, you can still reduce other player's scores by destroying their populations, and I do this, although usually only near the end of the game. In the beginning, I focus on destroying their offensive capabilities as quickly as possible, while maintaining my defense at all costs. Every time, I am hoping that maybe this time I'll make it through without losing a single city. Maybe this time, I'll find some cause for hope.

You see, I began playing this game while taking a 400-level Political Science course, Nuclear Deterrence Theory and Defense. While I know the game is in no way an accurate simulation of real world technologies--for one thing, the defensive missile emplacements I rely upon have no basis is reality--it feels significant somehow, even if it is just the toy soldiers version. I like to think that even though right now in the real world there are half a dozen nations with nuclear weapons ready to launch at any moment, maybe everything will be all right.

Of course, if things have gotten to the point that this game loosely simulates, we're all probably all doomed anyway. Unless we aren't.

Last night, I was sitting on a couch at my ex-girlfriend's, watching a movie, when we heard explosions outside. We'd been hearing fireworks all night, but these were way louder and closer, and a lot of them close together.

We convinced ourselves, briefly, that it was nothing. Just earlier that day, an entire string of firecrackers had been set off just down the street. She'd remarked that it sounded like a machine-gun going off.

When people started to gather outside, and discuss loudly, we decided otherwise. We heard "nine millimeter", "shotgun", "body" and "ambulance". A quick glance out the window did, indeed, show an ambulance going past, and a car whose windows were full of bullet holes.

The next couple hours were... highly unpleasant, as we tried to come to terms with the fact that someone had just been killed outside, and to get in touch with her room-mate, who had gone out to walk her partner home about half an hour before this happened.

When we finally calmed down, decided to go to my place for the night, and went outside, we talked to the cops, and asked what had actually happened.

We remembered eight, or maybe twelve gunshots. They told us it had been fifteen. Two men, one in a car, one on the street, had gotten into a gunfight, and exchanged shots at length. End result?

One man uninjured. The other lost a toe. He was the one in the ambulance.

Sometimes, mutual destruction isn't quite so assured after all. But don't bank on it.

In which the second theme week is mentioned.

Zach, James, and I were brainstorming* about week's theme, and we decided to make it Mutually Assured Destruction.

*Zach: ...mutually assured destruction would be a fun theme, I think.
James: I can roll with this.
Thomas: Certainly a lot to say about it. Plus, a lot of syllables!
Zach: Not, like, super-assured of it, but... Yeah. Unless anyone has a better idea.
Thomas: And it applies to politics, music, and all that.
James: well, we've been brainstorming for like 2 minutes?
Thomas: I've been thinking about how much the transformers look like giant robot bats.
Thomas: And fat-bottomed egyptian queens.
James: they do make the rocking world go around.
Thomas: They made their rocking world go OH DAMN YOU JAMES

At a groupblog like this (I just make that up!), it's something that I often consider. As in, "How soon could my own niggling opinions about what makes a properly insane piece of writing tear our friendship apart?" I realize, of course, that this particular street flow both ways. I'm far from anything special (so humble!) or talented (so modest!), so I am naturally hesitant to begin dissecting other people, since I'm pretty aware that I can be vivisectioned just as easily.

I am covering my face with my hands as I type this (which is no mean feat), but the thought of destroying myself to destroy someone else always reminds me of my first Big Deal Relationship. She and I got on well enough, and then began the long-distance thing. We drifted apart for about a year, and then I found out that while I'd gained ten pounds and stopped shaving, she already moved on. When I showed back up in her life, and was promptly escorted back out, I did what anyone would do, and stalked her crazily. For, like, six months. I don't know what I was thinking. Then I moved to a distant city, nearly did something I'd regret with a young lady who didn't tell me her exact age, and moved on too. But thinking back, it's one of those moments in life where I'd like to toss my old self into a furnace and pee on the ashes.

The real fear, though, is of falling back into those old habits. In my "Everybody dies alooooone!" moments, when I'm hugging my knees and listening to Sufjan Stevens by myself, my biggest fear is that I'll become something I'll regret later. We may be an endless progression of people, but at the moment, the democratic Mes of space and time are pretty happy with who they are, and would not like it revealed that their self-multitudinousness was in err.

And that, I suppose, is the real trick of mutually assured destruction. The reason why our parent's generation didn't see civilization as we know it dissolved into a fine mist is the fact that it would have not only killed us (because let us face facts - some people are happy to die for stupid causes), but it would have made us look bad to anyone who survived.

Hello to Devil May Cry 3 and Kingdom Hearts 2

I suppose I shouldn't be blogging as hard since my computer is currently being opened up and prodded by people who aren't me, but the germ of an idea came, and those never wait, so you have to strike while the iron is hot. The piece of idea being stuck? The introductions, or you could say, the "Hello"s of Devil May Cry 3 Special Edition and Kingdom Hearts 2. Why these games? Well, since my computer is being repaired, I have to spend time somehow, and it's been raining for a while. (Right now, the sky is grey. All of it.)

Both games take a similar approach to their introductions: The introduction to the universe is done through a opening cutscene of some length. Many games do this, that's not the issue, the point is how well the two opening cutscenes show off their respective game's style.

I'll first talk about the Disney/Square-Enix collaboration, Kingdom Hearts 2. That game's opening, unsurprisingly, is an expensive looking FMV masterpiece that looks like a million bucks, (It may in fact, have cost that much money to produce...) complete with an absurdly catchy and somehow driving piece of J-Pop. (If anyone has this song, do let me know what it is and where I can find it...) The character, Sora, is seen falling down, headfirst, for quite a bit of time, then catching up with his friends, watch them turn evil, turn good again, slip through his fingers, and so on. It is above all, serious. When Goofy and Donald appear, it is to battle by Sora's side, and nary a quack is heard out of Donald, perhaps for fear it might ruin the atmosphere. And that, is one of Disney's primary concerns.

What is for sure is that Disney was sure that none of the three main characters to wield bladed weapons or anything that looks real. Good brand management (thank you, Websnark) dictates that the cognitive dissonance of Goofy in Disney World bouncing and happy without a care in the world juxtaposed with Goofy swinging a sword, knife in his teeth screaming "I'll take on all you brigands!" in a lisenced videogame is not going to go over well with the consumer, so Goofy's weapon of choice is a shield. Is Goofy serious about his adventures from Twilight Town to whichever mighty jungle the lion sleeps in? Hel..Heck yes he is. But is he ever without the lacksidaisical, slouching grin? Heavens, no. So. Goofy is still Goofy, even in his new-ish digs and Disney's kid-friendly stamp remains.

The obscenely high production values, serious demeanor and kid-friendly vibe all reassure me it's going to be like the first Kingdom Hearts, except with a couple cosmetic changes, better graphics and a mode of travel or planet hopping that's a lot easier.




Capcom's Devil May Cry 3 SE, on the other hand, takes another route entirely. It's Capcom, so the opening mission video (I'm discounting the actual opening since the scrolling credits take you out of the experience) is in the games graphic engine, which is admittedly, pretty impressive.

It makes me smile a wide, meat eating grin. The main character, Dante is opening up a music shop. He is the kind of half-demon that answers the phone by pounding on the table to have the reciever spring into his hands. In comes a visitor, who is not looking for the bathroom, as Dante finds out, but is instead muscle of his half-brother demon brother Vergil, who has just arrived, by standing atop a mile-high castle that quite recently sprung up from the earth and devalues real estate for a couple square miles. After an unsuccessful intimidation attempt, the muscle leaves and Dante goes back to eating his pizza. This is until a good 6 or 7 demons appear out of the air around our main character and use Dante's body to insert the business ends of their scythes.

Dante is unfazed.

He doesn't even put on his (trademark?) red jacket. He, instead, gets up and walks over to the old jukebox, in the far corner of the room (blades still in his body) where tries to put on a song. It doesn't play. Dante, visibly annoyed, smashes the jukebox , and still no sound eminates. He sighs, accepts that he's going to have to kill these demons without music. Having now shaken off the blades, he turns and faces the assembeled crew of malevolent spirits, and defeats them by using whatever is lying around, including pool balls, and using one unfortunate soul as a skateboard while firing both of his pistols. After clearing the room, but finding still more enemies, Dante looks around and asks "The end?". More enemies show up. "Don't bet on it." Here is where the player gets control.

As you can tell, the entire entreprise is incredibly stylish, but done with a wink and a grin. That is to say, Devil May Cry 3 is serious and as self-aware as any of the new Ocean's movies. The game's m.o. is simple: you want to devastate your enemies with the variety of weapons in your arsenal, and you are given more in game currency the more you use your arsenal. (Your starting weapons are Dante's sword, Rebellion, and his dual pistols, Ebony and Ivory. Yes, one pistol is black, the other is white. Yes, that is how the game rolls.)

For example, you could just stand 20 feet away from an enemy and pour lead into their somehow corpeal forms with Ebony and Ivory, and that would get you a small amount of points. But, if you ran up to them slashed them with Rebellion, then launched the demon with an uppercut with the weapon, only to keep them in the air with fire from Ebony and Ivory, you'd get a hell of a lot more points, as shown when your onscreen point meter goes to Crazy!. You later get a guitar to use as a weapon. To get that weapon, you have to defeat the rock singer boss. It's pretty awesome.


It is that kind of style, the pardon the pun, devil may care sense of fun, that the introduction of Devil May Cry 3 embodies perfectly. Unlike Kingdom Hearts 2 where you get the distinct impression that you are someone else's oyster, Devil May Cry 3 gives you a knife and says get to it.

And that's, probably why ultimately, I'm spending a lot more time with Dante and not Sora...

In which I obsess a bit too much about make-believe naked ladies.

I began my day, as I often do, by being tricked into seeing something vile on the internet. In this case, Jack Sparrow/Davey Jones hentai.

The internet wants to hurt everyone. I bet that in the 70's, whenever crackpots were thinking about the utopia of the far-off future* of the year 2007, they weren't thinking about how many new and terrifying forms of pornography would slither their way out of the human psyche. On second thought, I bet some of them were. These people are the visionaries, the johnny-appleseeds of our day. Johnny pornoseeds. Whatever, whatever.

*You know what? I don't want flying cars. I have enough trouble getting on small airplanes - I don't need to know that I'm strapping myself into some kind of fusion-fueled volvo hovertank. I just want a bicycle** or maybe a decent road.

**I am the bloggingest luddite 'round these here parts.

Anyway. I live in the middle of nowhere, and it's very strange, because it's almost impossible to not see someone/ be seen by someone anymore. My good and insane friend J once mentioned to me that in the 48 con-tig-u-ous states, you can only get maybe 50 miles from a road. It seems like a lot, but HERE'S SOMETHING FOR YOU. I am basically a shut-in, but on the inside, I only want to sing and dance. Naturally, I only do this in three instances.

#1. When I am in a private place, alone, and have a good source for music.
#2. When I am eight beers to the wind and someone cues up "Ring My Bell" and come on, forget the girls, tonight I just want to dance.
#3. When I am walking through the woods, and sometimes feel it necessary to incorporate a fanciful foot-jive while lip-syncing.

I was in the midst of #3 while walking about the woods the other day, when I was informed a few hours upon arriving back at home by my father that a certain member of his elite deer-maintenance crew (The Deer Police) was apparently seeing to a patch of clover in the deep woods, when I suppose I came into a clearing, prancing and being all fey. Damn you, mp3 player. But it feels like a weird violation of my personal space. I didn't want this guy seeing me act all AWESOME COOL and singing along to myself, and I'm sure he didn't want to see it either. This is often how I feel when meeting someone new for the first time, when I'm not exactly at my peak. I don't want them to see me, and I'm sure they don't want to see me. I'm like a roving blight upon the world.

Then there are strange times when I like being a blight, but that's neither here nor there. Anyway. I have a visitor coming up this weekend, and I look forward to it.

How do you say Hello?

There's putting your worst foot forward, and then there's falling backwards off the roof of a moving train and into someone's livingroom.

Chances are, you didn't have time to comb your hair or think of a good entrance line on the way down, but with a little luck, the drama of your entrance can be parleyed into a favorable impression with your host or hosts.

Sadly, we are not always lucky enough to be catapulted into new social situations without the time to obsess over mannerisms, wardrobe and conversational strategy. Instead, we obsesss and fidget with our appearance, plan various conversational gambits, and think far too hard about which mostly-clean t-shirt to wear.

This has been the royal we all along, foolish audience. Now tell us, do you think it matters if we wear matching socks?

In any case, I generally find that the best way to talk to anyone is just to walk up and talk to them, without a clear plan in mind, relying on my natural charm (minimal) and improvisational talents (highly variable) to carry me through.

This is what I am doing at this very moment.

Hello, everyone. Welcome to Eleven Names. I suspect this is the point in the week where all the writers start glancing sideways at one another and arguing about what the theme for the next week should be, but we've never done this before, so I don't know.

If next week's theme is something like the Eating Habits of Nikola Tesla, or Atomic Dinosaur Spacemonauts, you know who to blame.