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Ta-metru_defender

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Blog Entries posted by Ta-metru_defender

  3. Ta-metru_defender
    Alright, I did have a group of quotes and anecdotes about my dad for this (like how he perks up if you play the theme to Battle City, or how he kicks all kinds of butt at Pac-Man) but I figured the following information was proof enough that my dad is cooler than yours (and I'm not even gonna get into the whole 30+ years of traveling the world thing):
     
    My Dad will casually quote Abed (off of Community) in the middle of conversations.
     
    Dang straight.
  4. Ta-metru_defender
    It seemed liked the logical thing to do (especially in light of a recent online purchase):
     

    Apologies for the overexposed picture, I snapped it with my phone and didn't feel like setting up lights.
     
    I think I'm gonna build a truck tomorrow...
  6. Ta-metru_defender
    Essays, Not Rants! 005: You Are Noble Six
     
    In my last entry I (somewhat) briefly touched on the notion of video game immersion and storytelling. I said that the biggest advantage of telling a story through a video game was that the player would gain investment in the story due to having that “hey, I’m the hero!” moment. I wanna elaborate on that, explain just how some games do it - and how they’re so much better for it.
     
    Mass Effect is an easy go-to example. Right off the bat you’re asked to give Shepard a first name and design his (or her) appearance. The game recreates a sense of a classic tabletop RPG with its open world and your ability to make choices. Ah, yes, choices. That’s one of Mass Effect’s strong points of immersion: you choose what Shepard does. And your choices have consequences. I killed off a race at the cost of not having their help later on. I sided with one of my crew mates (and love interest) and the cost of another crew member’s loyalty. My story is my own, it’s how I made it, it’s how I chose it to happen. Mostly, anyway.
    Another strength is the sheer immensity of the world. I’ve spent far too much time scrolling through the Codex reading up on the history of the universe. And there’s a lot in there, from histories of each of the alien races to a breakdown of humanity’s role in the galaxy to the science behind the mass effect drives that allows for faster-than-light travel. The world is incredibly fleshed out and it’s so easy to get lost in it.
     
    Another route is the one Bungie took with the core Halo Trilogy. The protagonist, Master Chief John 117 (known just by his rank in the games) receives little actual characterization. We do, however, learn stuff about him through the people around him; the way they react to him and the way they treat him. Enemy grunts run away from you screaming “demon!” while allies cheer at your arrival. You find out who you are by your reputation.
    A cool touch Bungie kept in the trilogy is that you never see Chief’s face. Why? Because you are Master Chief. You are the one tasked with saving Earth and finishing the fight. The battle isn’t World War II, it’s not some hypothetical US-Russian conflict, this fight is to save the Earth. It’s universally relatable. The Covenant wants to wipe out humanity. You’re gonna stop them. That hook instantly brings you into the conflict.
     
    Bungie took their brand of immersion one step further with their final entry in the Halo series (and my favorite game): Reach. The first thing you do in Reach is design your Spartan. You pick out his (or her) armor pieces, what sort of helmet he wears, his amor’s coloring, and his emblem. The first scene of the game is of the desolated planet Reach, culminating in the shot of your helmet discarded in the devastation, a crack through the center of its faceplate. The title fades in and fades out to the helmet sitting new and whole in your hands. You - as Noble Six - turn it over and put it on.
    The fall of Reach is central to the Halo mythos. From the first game we’ve had references to the disaster and what an impact it left on the UNSC forces. We know how this ends, we know we won’t win, we know we’ll lose the battle. So how does Bungie make us care about a game where we know the ending?
    Simple: make it personal. Your Spartan super-soldier was custom designed by you. If you play online you’re the same Spartan you play in the campaign. You start to identify yourself as him. You see Reach through Six’s eyes, from the initial strike on a relay to the razing of New Alexandria until the Covenant glasses the planet from orbit. During the campaign you’ll see Noble Six standing with his squad mates as they discuss plans to save Reach. Near his clavicle you see your emblem there. That’s your emblem, that’s you.
     
    You’re the hero.
  7. Ta-metru_defender

    Home?

    By Ta-metru_defender,

    Currently Rocking Out To: Meant to Live, Switchfoot
    Mood: Happy?
     
    I'm writing this from the Kiosk on board the Logos II.
    To think, two years ago I thought I'd never see this place again.
     
    The Kiosk (a central room, crossroads, like a living room), along with the rest of the ship has changed.
    For starters, the Kiosk is different. The couches are gone, and the arm chairs are in their place. I'm sitting in an armchair that I've sat in countless times. The notice board is all but empty, so many things that would so often be there are gone. There's only a few people passing by... It's sooo... empty.
    Two years ago, the ship would've been sailing. A soccer ball was being kicked around by the few kids on the ship. Some of the adults watched and laughed as we chased the ball around. How did that work? What was the goal posts I can now stretch out with my arms and just about touch the sides. The ceiling is now centimeters above my head, I almost have to duck to avoid sprinklers now.
     
    Every time I step into a hallway or room I'm disorientated. Everything's off. I'm too high, the angle's wrong. I went down to the school my first day back. It's still there... But it's not the school. What had once been my classroom is now filled with boxes, I can't see the desk where I worked on the computer so many times, nor the desks where I built a castle with LEGO once with James.
    The library is full of boxes too. Gone is the TV and the numerous books, many of which I had read. The computer which Laura and I so often fought over is gone, too.
    The other class are still there, stripped of furniture. It all seems so... small... My first classroom is still there, along with my desk. I check to see if my socks that I put in there my very first day are still there. They aren't. I think I took them out when I left. I went out through the Book Hold, I walked there everyday, didn't I? Price guns are still there. The dining room is similar. All the tables in the back have been taken out, a mini-kiosk is there now. My table's gone. Ha, were it Christmas of 2003 you would've seen a trio of kids playing Ligretto until 1 in the morning. The food's the same. Believe it or not, I missed it, it tasted nice tonight. Everything looks so... Different.
    I go down to the Blue/Maroon room. The stairs are as steep as ever, hah. The door handle's lower than I remember. Ah well. The TV's missing from the Maroon as are many of the chairs. But it's the same. I remember when we spent the whole night down there. That was fun. I open the fire door down there and go up another deck. All these 'short cuts' are still there, what fun.
    I go up on top, the Fun Deck's still there. They moved the swings again, ah well. The White Box is there, the nettings there... The smaller box is there, and my fish is still there. I remember when we painted that all so long ago. The Funnel Deck somehow seems sooo low... The angles off again. Much to my surprise my old bike, the one I brought from Singapore is still in there. I wonder if anyone's used it since I left.
     
    The ship's mostly the same. I still know my way around, no problem. It doesn't feel odd walking around the ship. I don't get this rush of, "hey, I'm back". It feels... Normal, right.
    Yet it's empty. People who made the ship Home are gone. Friends, Adelaide, Andrew, Esa, Laura... It's the same old hunk of floating metal, but it dosen't quite feel like Home anymore.
     
    I still love it, anyway.
     
    *sigh*
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