but I am a God in my field.

What do I do? I observe things with calm fascination. I am a Critic, yes, but… I am also a Child. “How do you do it?” you patiently ask. I don’t even know. It’s like air. It just exists. The wonder of My fascinating critique just exists.

I’d like to explain some beauty to you, and then I’d like you to listen to that voice in your loins, stop being a coward, and pull forth (via vigorous clicking) the most articulate, true, and erotic Art on the internet.

First.

I am going to present to you the best song in existence. Pretentious right? Har har… NO! It is not, you philistine. It is but true. The best song in the world is “Always” by the brilliant, brilliant band Erasure. Familiar with them? No? Well, think Proust. Think Einstein. A song is as divine as God’s nectar. Where other music strikes nerves, Erasure is here to massage them. And to think — oh! — to think that this song has inspired and graced us with two succulent, golden gifts.

Click well, children:

The Best Music Video of All Time

“Always” by Erasure

A beautiful man. A Goddess. Rapture ensues. Can love bloom in the snow?

The Best Video Game of All Time

Robot Unicorn Attack

A Delightful yet powerful unicorn. Redefining reality, subverting evil.

Notice the patterns in my blogging as of late? Much like a dysfunctional music box, I wind up my writing enthusiasm with enthusiastic blogs — promising something good in the near future — but they’re more false starts that peter out than anything rhythmic or cohesive. And then… months pass by… and, yeah. It’s bad. I know.

This is because my writing is a little broken. But hey, it’s ok. It’s not that I’m no longer passionate about games — I am. I’m just in a very weird in-between state. I think about writing every day. Occasionally I’ll try and get freelancing work. Sporadically, I’ll work on a short story. Bimonthly, I’ll toy with writing a novel. Or glance at one of the pages. But that’s it.

So for now please think of my writing as something worthwhile that simply needs elbow-grease and maybe a good smack to get started again.

Now that all the rubbish media onslaught is mostly over, we can all relax and enjoy Michael Jackson’s work, and carefully pick out worthwhile links with tweezers. I’ve always enjoyed his bizarre connection to gaming, and the questions that arise from it: does he play to feel more like a child, or does he truly love games for the games themselves?

• Pinorama – Michael Jackson Arcade, Entryway

Visit (in a panoramic view!) Michael Jackson’s sterile, lonely-looking collection of arcade machines and assorted memorabilia.

• R.I.P.: Jackson’s Unspoken Gaming Legacy via 1up

Jeremy Parish writes beautifully on the topic of Michael Jackson’s influence on gaming, and gaming culture in the 80’s.

• New Michael Jackson Game in The Work via Kotaku

This was actually being worked on before the star’s death, which means it might be OK. Here’s hoping for a Moonwalker remake.

And then the headache.

Abstractions are weird and painful, but they’re also beautiful. Problem is, people would rather block them out. It’s far much easier to just take a step across the street rather than considering some flux or infinite regress or theoretical change in gravity to prevent you from doing so. And it’s this kind of easygoing nature that prevented millions, including myself, from ever completing the game Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask.

Majora’s Mask is weird in that it seems like it’s not a Zelda game. It seems entirely abstract, unlike any Zelda game before it. It has the least linearity of the series, it’s character-based (not exactly a staple), and it repeats the same three days over, and over, and over. Oh, and it’s also extremely macabre and depressing: an evil-looking black moon inches towards you and other townsfolk, and the people seem well-aware of their existential worthlessness, their impending death. Look-see… it’s not quite cute:

Zelda games have the precedent of Linear Adventure in Which Forest Elf Saves Princess. And then there’s Majora’s Mask, in which you begin looking for a friend (let’s assume Navi), and get distracted. No princess. THEN you’re placed in a loop of a world with little to go on, and with the controls entirely, literally, in your hands. And, it’s kind of horrifying. At first. (Only at first.)

And this is why Majora’s Mask wasn’t a hit, although it should have been. It’s why I didn’t play it back in 2000, and watched my friend Brandon play through my purchased copy instead. I didn’t even care, at that point. I hardly even watched him play, because thinking of trying to understand what was happening (the abstraction) was too much for me.

There’s something a little more unsettling about a video game straying from its roots than a film or novel or television show doing so. It’s a little more unnerving (and in this case, creepy) because we feel, quite clearly, not in control. Gamers are a sort of specialized control freak whether they admit it or not, carefully tweaking the world in which they’ve been placed. And they’re changing it for the better: equipment gets upgraded, characters “gain levels” (whatever that means), and cute little Pokemans get caught-did. And, yeah, Majora’s Mask seems to puts a damper on that progression. Those rupees and arrows and bombs you just collected? They’re gone after the in-game three days. One would assume that the dungeons, as well, need to be completed again and again to get that bow, again. Get that hookshot, again, just to get a piece of heart you missed.

But no, no. It’s not like that.

Playing it now in ‘09 I get a feeling that it’s almost too Zelda-y. I mean, I love it, but I thought I gave up on this title for a reason in the past. I expected to have a love/hate relationship with it; I expected a bizarre experience full of stress and painful time limits. But the game allows for a pretty simple, tolerable Zelda experience early on. You can slow time, for one, but most importantly, all your items stick with you expect for the petty ones (the aforementioned rupees, even, can be saved in a time-defying bank, meaning only your petty bombs and arrows are what you have to retrieve again).

So. Majora’s Mask? Not so abstract. Pretty normal in game mechanics… just utterly strange thematically, with a lot more content than usual as far as characters and abilities. It’s kind of weird to find I’m playing a “Zelda” game rather than a “non-Zelda” game, what with all the hype that it was some horrible altered experience. rather, it feels like the best of the franchise quite clearly. It’s full of heart, too — there’s a real purpose as you help people whom you’ve seen struggle and mourn their death.

I haven’t finished it yet, but so far it’s a damn good black sheep. If you’d like to join a ridiculously intelligent play-through discussion, check out the Vintage Game Club that Brainy Gamer is hosting. It’s quite good! The people there are very unique and thoughtful and weird.

And oh hey — I just described the game: unique, thoughtful, weird.

This is good.

But hey — I used to love me some E3. Y’know, back in the days of The Wizard.

And I know some people that currently like E3. And it is, by all accounts, the most likely place for new games to be announced. And that’s exciting and stuff. But honestly, who would actually want to be there? Who would want to experience the corporate nerd-filth? Kids, I guess. Or maybe adults with a predilection for loud, obnoxious gaming. Or maybe you. And that’s fine… I just don’t get it.

Take a look at the following booth-babe photo, will you?

IGN had the following to say about this image: “Too much…to process…brain melting…*head explodes!*” Really? Is this head-blowingly hot to the gaming population? Outside of monster truck rallies and comic conventions, apparently there are not enough places to see pseudo tans, pseudo smiles, and pseudo breasts. But hey, these girls might pretend they like the games they’re suggestively standing around, so… that’s a plus? I get it: Booth babes + swag = sales; but the equation is too cheap and dirty for such a passionate community.

You can almost smell it.

E3 is all about coin. And I guess it works in its own trashy way. But I can’t help but wish for a more cultured and less bombastic E3. After all, other media gatherings seem to have it down. Film festivals like Sundance have a more gentle feel and approach, as well as a respect for audiences over the age of 12. Literature festivals like Wordstock are also Actually Suitable for Adults. These festivals manage to be engaging, rewarding, and yet somehow not really disgusting. See? It’s possible!

E3 did try a toned-down, minimal presentation in 2008, only allowing “industry professionals”. But Small E3 wasn’t better, it was just more minimal. It was still gross. There was still crappy swag, still booth babes, and plenty of noise-competitions from varying stages.

Maybe it’s just a sign of our times. After all, the major 360 and PS3 games at E3 are continually typical and cliched action/horror/FPS nonsense made for testosterone-fueled violence-obsessive gamers. Games with little artistic range or expressiveness in color, leaving us with empty browns and dull grays. Aside from spatters of cartoon-red blood, I saw little green, little blue, little orange, little life. I suppose the convention just mirrors the games, and vice versa.

Not that these kind of games are bad, per se. I’ll likely play at least Uncharted 2 or Alan Wake, and happily. But isn’t anyone bored of all this sameness? Imagine going to the new releases section on Netflix or a movie store and seeing nothing but Vin Diesel flicks and Saw sequels.

Granted, Nintendo wasn’t perfect in its showcasing, either; their decision to cater to the young, young crowd (and to feature Cammie Dunaway as a host) didn’t help them one bit: the thing came off feeling like a 6th-grade magazine drive promotion. Yet the new Mario titles were, at least, a treat for the imagination (and look! Color!).

I’m well aware that there are gaming conventions and such that are (slightly more) thoughtful than E3, but E3 is the big one, the one that’s indicative of the industry. And if that’s the case, than the industry is akin to a pimple-covered 14-year-old with Pepsi in one hand, pizza in the other, and a selfish void of a glare that says GAMES BOOBS ACTION.

Postscript:

Did you know that I have a twitter these days? Yup.

Pimp, pimp.

Kids are saying it’s pretty hot shit, this twitter.

Wink, wink.

Ooh! And RSS feeds! Great for checking up on nascent gaming sites.

Whore, whore.

This is the message I gleaned after listening to the latest episode in Robert Ashley’s impressive podcast series titled “A Life Well Wasted”. I normally podcast-it on a commute, but the message within the podcast was so rich and fascinating that I listened in an unprecedented way: indoors, at home, and with a cup of tea. And afterwords, I couldn’t help but feel good about my gaming habit, and the weird little quest that it continually takes me on.

The episode (simply entitled “Why Game?”) begins with Ashley asking people attending the Game Developers Conference why they game. It’s quite a simple and meaningful question, really. But… wait. Why do people game?

The podcast itself focuses on deep interviews with fascinating people. I won’t go into those here, because really, you should just listen to it, but know that you can expect varied and deep discussion. Particularly interesting is an innovative artistic developer (Jason Rohrer) that lives completely sustainably. That, and the fact that I heard about Elimination Communication from both my wife’s blog and a gaming podcast blows my mind.

The first, brief segment of the podcast focuses on the “why game” question, and the answers are all over the place:

“Because it’s fun.”

“It’s an escape.”

“Helps to get away from the day-to-day monotony of the horror of existence.”

But then, the answers get more hopeful. People talk about being “ambiently displaced”, and speak of the “therapeutic” qualities of games.

I’m not sure what any of you think, but I’m definitely in the hopeful category. If Ken Levine is correct, that video games are a “convergence of everything”, then I want in. I want to stick myself plum in the center of another’s artistic vision, letting the “everything” surround me. I want to become enraptured by someone’s art. It’ll be like “The Nothing” in The Neverending Story. But, y’know, the opposite. See? The power of video games — it’s monumental.

Games are ridiculously entertaining, to be sure. They’re also a fine escape. But they’re also a philosophical quest, a way to immerse oneself into another person’s ideas. There’s a certain empathy one can ascertain from being another character in a game, something not too far from the techniques learned in method acting. And with that empathy, it’s not a bad way to open the door into other people’s worlds, and figure out what exactly we’re all doing here.

Of course, I can see how the association of the words ‘philosophical’ and ‘games’ may sound absurd to many. The nature of many games is a fast-paced, immature, and clumsy one. But not always. Your beloved, artistic Bukowski novel Ham on Rye isn’t far from Rockstar’s sandbox game Bully, and the graceful pick-up-and-play Flower has an intimacy and zen-like depth that’s quite close to Monet’s waterlilies. And that’s just the surface of comparisons.

These are all little things, part of a large, often-convoluted world of ideas and thoughts in games. It may not always make sense, the artistic vision may not always be clear (or even artistically interesting, for that matter), but games are more than time-wasting escapism — they’re also a unique philosophical quest, an journey into characters, and, yes, naysayers — they’re an art form.

Thanks to Robert Ashley, and to the legions of gamers and thinkers that helped me see that all games — even, shiiit, Pacman — exist on levels other than simple cheap entertainment.

The Gobliiins series attributes dream-logic to its puzzling.

But there is hope, dear friends! For any of you that enjoy casually sniffing about environments, clicking here or there, trying to solve puzzles, and then panicking and ripping your hair out in frustration, then there are developers in France that care about making quality games for you.

The game is Gobliiins 4, and it’s quite brilliant. Really the only problem with the thing is that the 3D graphics are mediocre at times. Pierre Gilhodes, a series creator, makes seriously beautiful handdrawn comic-style artwork, and it’s hard to see his vision translated to poor 3D rather than rich, detailed spritework. But it’s OK! I still love the game.

Oh, and do read my review.

Oh look — fresh retro news.

You see, there’s a new Retronauts podcast. Yeah, that’s right, Retronauts. If you haven’t heard, it’s one of many retro gaming podcasts, and one of the best. Or more succinctly, it satisfies a certain niche: gaming history. Old-timey gaming podcasts are a motley bunch — while some are focused on gaming history (Retronauts), others (the wonderful Retro Force Go!) are more about those beautiful, passionate moments that got many so hooked on the genre. Aside from respective niches, though, you’ll find a healthy dose of history in both of these gems, and plenty of raw emotion and laughter as well.

• Retronauts

The history focus of 1up podcast Retronauts is ridiculously well-researched. I wouldn’t be surprised if host Jeremy Parish writes a thorough book or two on gaming history in the future (yeah, yeah — in a better economy, perhaps). Also to expect from the podcast: thoughtful criticism, and insulting listeners. It’s also an extremely intelligent podcast, thanks to the knowledge (and vast vocabulary) of Parish. In the latest episode, Parish and Ray Barnholdt talk about the Gameboy’s 20 beautiful, weird, and green years of existence. Among other topics, there’s also tangential rambling and mailbag reading near the end (with Jenn Frank adding some nice, personal gaming anecdotes), but Parish is generally going for something more intimate with his retro game podcast — eschewing the “jackass circus” and going for small groups and focused discussions.

• Retro Force Go!

At times, though, organized podcasts feel like more work than play for those on the mics. And besides, I love listening to large groups talk over each other in excitement. So if you’re looking for something very playful, with spunk, then listen to Retro Force Go!, a Destructoid podcast. Its members aren’t equipped with the knowledge or research that Retronauts exemplifies, but they’re not too concerned about that anyway. Retro Force Go is (oddly enough) about laughing, friendship, and the love of games. And guess what? It’s extremely refreshing! The crew genuinely enjoys one another, making for an immesely satisfying listen. They may not know the minutia, the dork trivia — such as how to properly pronounce Cait Sith (it’s KET-SHE) — but honestly, while listening, I really don’t give a shit.

And it’s so full of energy!

So full of life!

Most of the liveliness is due to the forever cheerful and quirky Chad Concelmo. There’s a surprising honesty in his effeminate “BEST GAME EVAR!” proclamations, and even in his frequent, over-the-top laughter. Topher Cantler is also a highlight, with a deep voice that’s monotone yet quirky. He also has a simple, refreshing candor when speaking of his favorite games.

.

Try taking one of these podcasts with you. You won’t regret it: it’s like having new, free friends (I typically pay for mine). And if possible, listen to them at work, especially if your dayjob coworkers aren’t as enthused about the medium as your nerdy, awesome self. I recommend giving the more critical Retronauts a go first, then trying the lovegasm of Retro Force Go!.

(1) Bitter, (2) Sweet.

So, it’s been, erm, months, but I’m back! Again.

I’ve finally made up my mind on a look for the site — some kind of cross between the cleanliness of McSweeneys and a touch of art nouveau. A banner may soon be on the way, as soon as my occasionally perfectionist self gets lazy again and gives up (love it when that happens).

As for me? Drinking copious amounts of chinese medicinal tea, trying to figure out why I can’t breath at night. There has to be a better way!

Bito… bito pizza…

• Kotaku