The Next Big Project

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

At time of writing this post, dear reader, it is my birthday. Of course, by the time this is posted, it will be several weeks in the future and I, hopefully, will be enjoying my trip around the United Kingdom. In fact, it is very likely I’ll be kicking rocks at Hadrian’s paltry wall (but don’t actually quote me on the exact timing. For all I know I could still be somewhere in Wales). Exciting travel news aside, I am also happy to announce my editing for my Snow White-esque fantasy story is nearing the end of its editing round. Once I’ve come back from my trip, the intention is that I find the balls to actually seek an agent or a publisher capable of getting my ideas published.

Do I think it’s actually doable? Goodness, no. I still think I’m a two-bit hack of an author with delusions of grandeur. But you miss all the shots you don’t take. Or so they say.

The problem, of course, is finding the courage to put myself out there. And then, once I become the #2 Bestselling Author on the Sunday Times, I’ll flaunt it for all to see. After all, who wants to be #1 when #2 is right there for the taking?

I jest, I jest.

It’s highly doubtful my take on Snow White will actually be published. There’s no sexy winged fae prince ready to snatch away our protagonist. Nor is there some death game the naive princess is involved in. Oh no.

Instead, our Snow White stand-in has amnesia. Worse, she’s part of a crew of thieves and ne’er-do-wells. Manned by two dwarves, a giant of a man with a dopey grin (lovingly named Sleepy because he puts his enemies to sleep by smashing their faces into the ground), a magic-wielding elf, a rather dashing looking satyr and a stab-happy human who is just there to aura farm.

What more could you ask for?

But, with the end nearly in sight, I must ask myself: what is next for little ol’ me? While I am tempted to write the third story in the Lacet and Idana series I have floating around on the internet – the first few lines have already been feverishly scribbled down on my Notes app – a part of me also wants to tackle the second part of Nieven Sarenhart’s story. After all, if the first book were to get published, surely readers would be frothing at the mouth for the sequel in this planned duology (at least, I hope I can keep it a duology).

Meanwhile, as I was editing my epic fantasy set in the desert city-state of Kheraz, I was also using my weekends to pen horror short stories. In just eight months, I finished writing The Box of Dreams (sitting comfortably at just under 16,000 words) and For A Fate Worse Than Death (which is just a couple hundred words shy of 20,000). While neither make for a full novel, they are also too long to actually be classified as short stories. But combined, of course, with a few of my other horror short stories over the last few years, I could try and push for it to be an anthology series much like the published words of H.P. Lovecraft.

Time will tell how that will go. Maybe I could submit to a few magazines looking for eldritch stories and then go from there. Or, failing that, try my hand at self-publishing on Kindle Unlimited.

In any case, I did have a family friend read and provide feedback for A Box of Dreams. Suffice it to say, she loved it! Especially with the slow build-up of horror through the changes in perspective! What she liked less were some of my word choices but to each their own. I may still keep some of the words she suggested to change around. It IS my story, after all.

But what she dearly wanted to see more of was the character I originated: Detective Erin Lee. Of course, if you were to Google the name, the first article seems to be about an anti-trans Christian activist. The other is the Instagram of an actual author, and the other is Tony Hawk’s ex-wife. Which, I suppose, means it’s a common enough name that I could easily use it for a fictional character.

The family friend, of course, had bigger and better plans for my Australian private eye. And with such a racially ambiguous last name, she also hoped I would be exploring the Asian-Australian experience, which was something I already wrote in my corporate thriller, Control State (and is also floating around the internet somewhere – see FictionPress and Wattpad).

So, who knows. As a creative, I certainly know there’s more to Detective Erin Lee’s story than this initial foray into the Australian outback. The real question, of course, is whether I keep it all supernatural related or throw in the occasional curve-ball of a proper mystery thriller where the main villain is just a human who does terrible things on the side.

In the meantime, I do have For A Fate Worse Than Death. Another eldritch horror story set in Great Britain, though this time our main protagonist is a history professor at a prestigious university. The connecting tissue being the McGuffin from The Box of Dreams and a cameo from a character in Veil Between. But whereas the last few stories have ended on a relatively positive note, I like to think evil takes a big leap forward at the end of For A Fate Worse Than Death.

I am, of course, striving to connect all my eldritch stories together somehow but have struggled to find the greatest existential threat to draw all my protagonists together. Seeing as how the family friend DOES want more from Detective Erin Lee, our erstwhile Australian might be travelling overseas to help with an investigation from a number of concerned individuals that came together at the end of Veil Between.

As for what I’ll be writing next? Well, as a creative in general, I have many an idea bouncing in my head (and which have been written down so I wouldn’t forget them). However, I have been drawn to writing a story about AI being taken advantage of by eldritch forces. The story will see our protagonist, Leda Qin go head to head with a dastardly organisation as mysterious things start happening in and around her small town.

I have yet to figure out how or why the dastardly organisation has targeted Leda’s small town but I’ve never been a writer who knows exactly where the story is headed when I start. Rather, it’s the characters and the situations that help inform my storytelling and I work on it, little by little.

In the famous words of one Sam Reich, ‘The best way to begin is by beginning.’ So, with that out of the way, there is every possibility, I’ll be scribbling nonsense in my notebook throughout my travels as I work on my stories. Or, if the itch is strong, I might just start writing even before I head out on my next adventure (before abandoning it for five long weeks).

Or, potentially, I’ll decide to write a completely different story that’s been sitting on my shelf, ready to be dusted off and presented to the world.

Now, if only there was a way to immediately transfer the ideas I have in my head to the page…

And no. I’ll never resort to using Generative AI. My creativity comes from me alone. True, my choice of words might leave friends and family scratching their heads but each choice was deliberate. The work I produce wouldn’t be mine otherwise.

On a completely unrelated note, I am still powering through Assassin’s Creed: Shadows. I’m already fifty hours in but it feels like there’s still so much to do. My one major criticism for the next big budget Assassin’s Creed? Keep the map smaller. Having too many side-missions and collectibles only bloat the game and does not make it more enjoyable.

Way Down Hadestown

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

Death is something I think about on a semi-regular basis. It does not help that I have a very irrational (or, depending on your perspective, a healthy rational perspective) and almost existential fear of my consciousness coming to an end (much like Emmrich Volkarin from Dragon Age Veilguard). And while the concept of dying is not the main theme being explored, Katabasis by R.F. Kuang, does present a unique take of what the afterlife might be like if it were a mishmash of the various beliefs across multiple cultures. More importantly, we even see the main protagonist, Alice Law, struggle with the idea of oblivion – their memories wiped and they, themselves, are washed clean of the suffering they have endured.

The conflict between desperately clinging to life and occasionally just wanting to let it all be over is something I have also struggled with though it’s not something I talk about in polite company. Other people just don’t seem to quite understand where it comes from.

But then again, not many in my imemdiate circle of friends have had parents dying before their time. Something I occasionally bring up, should the conversation steer in that direciton, is the fact I lost my father when I was twelve. He had lung cancer and was given a scant few years to live, give or take a few extra months on each side. My mother believes it was the treatment that really killed him.

All I remember is coming home from school and seeing a note on the door saying my father was in hospital and that my neighbours could take me there. Still in my school uniform, bag on my back, I stood in the emergency department watching my father unconscious and hooked up to machines as his breathing began to stutter terribly.

I don’t know how long I stayed. What I do remember is going back home and then receiving a call not long after midnight to return to the hospital. By then, of course, he was gone.

It was a Thursday.

The next day, Friday, I went to school. With the heavy feeling that despite everything I had lost, the world did not care. It continued to spin. Hours ticking by where people went about their daily lives.

And nobody else around me was affected by what should have been a momentous occasion. My father, after all, was the best of men. Attentive and fun. Patient and kind (for years afterwards, I’d keep trying to find traces of him in the people around me).

Understandably, my sense of humour that day was bleak. I made a few disparaging and dark comments.

In those moments, at twelve years of age, I could not help but wonder: why did bad things happen to good people? My father did not deserve to die from lung cancer. He was a fun, mischievous man who understood the difference between a CPU and a GPU. Who, when I was struggling with a school project, helped me create a closed LED circuit to spruce it up.

Many people, in these moments, turn to faith for comfort. Heaven and Hell are the two binaries. But other religions provide alternatives. Be it Hades or Valhalla or even reincarnation. There is something for everyone.

And then there’s just the end. The complete stop of who you are. Gone forever. Never to be returned.

I think that’s what scares me the most. The inability of continuing on, even as a disembodied consciousness floating around in the world. But in this instance, I suppose, losing my mind would be the greatest terror of all. If I am not ‘me’ then am I even truly alive?

It’s a question I’ve wrestled with for many years but have gotten no closer to answering. However, as someone who does indulge in many forms of media – books, films, shows and games – there is a lesson to be learned. For what is death but the ultimate and final destination? It is the spoiler to every good story. And while some may like the ability to skip ahead and see how it unfolds, I think most would agree that it’s the journey that is the most important.

Trying to rush through the hours, wishing to be older, is a poor trade we only realise near the end. Rather, it is the precious moments we have with those we love, doing the things we love (within reason. Don’t do crimes!), and taking in all the beauty of what the universe has to offer, is what life is all about.

This is something I constantly have to remind myself of. To take joy in the small moments. To savour what it’s like to have the sun on my face (after I’ve slathered on copious amounts of sunscreen). And to be thankful for those who have come along on the journey with me. In Katabasis, this is the lesson Alice Law must learn even as she yearns for the approval of her cruel and exacting professor.

For what does it really mean to grind away at a job you don’t like? Or forcing yourself into a shape to conform with what society wants (yes, that’s right. It goes into the square hole)? Chasing a dream is all well and good but it should not be at the expense of everything else. Burnout is no joke. In fact, I even wrote a poem about it! One I might leave for another time and/ or post.

Of course, it’s much easier to stop and smell the roses when one has the means to thrive instead of simply survive. But even those who live life on the hardest difficulty will have moments – rare though they may be – of joy and laughter. Of peace and warmth. All of us have a desperate yearning to live.

More importantly, all of us deserve to live. And to live well. Our tummies full, our hearts light.

And when the end finally comes, we can greet it with a warm smile of a life well lived and a grand story to leave behind. For, I think, that is what most people tend to forget. The little people behind all the greats. The ones who live day-to-day lives and who die with barely a whimper.

We all think we’re the main characters. The ones who will see our names written down in history. But for many of us, we will barely make the footnote. There is no legacy for the everyday grocery attendant or the mid-level software programmer. Yet it remains important that those close to them never forget.

Everybody has a story to tell. Even now, in my mid-thirties, I still marvel at the stories told of who my father was when he was but a boy and of the trouble he would get in. It makes me wonder if I will ever be so fondly recalled.

While the prospect of death still chills me to the bone, I know I need to look not just to the end but to the bits inbetween. Of the bonds I have forged and the friends I’ve made. True, I may not have children but hopefully I will make an impact on the generations after. Either because my writings were unearthed on some digital archive or because someone saw fit to collate these online ramblings and printed them out as a form of physical media.

Meanwhile, at time of writing this, I have plotted a secret birthday party for a friend. Because they matter and their life should be celebrated by those closest and dearest to them.

A Scattered Dream That’s Like A Far Off Memory

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

Posting my stories on platforms like Fictionpress usually sees bots or supposed artists reaching out through private messages. Occasionally, though, they’ll actually leave a ‘review’ on the stories in question – where it would make the most sense. In most instances, they’re pretty quick to say, ‘I love your story and had a few ideas I wanted to discuss,’ before redirecting further conversation to a third-party messaging program like Discord or Instagram. but sometimes, they’ll pose a few thoughtful inquiries just to draw me out.

One of the recent questions I received is one, I’m sure, many a published author has been asked at a seminar or a book signing. What inspired you to write?

And though I gave the artist a fairly trite response, the question did get me thinking. When did this writing itch of mine really begin?

While I like to think that reading a wide variety of books when I was growing up helped contribute to my love for the written word, it was, most likely, not the only trigger. After all, as a child, I often liked to play around in imaginary worlds – each one more fantastical than the next. What did it matter if I borrowed elements from popular anime, books like Deltora Quest, or from video games like Guild Wars and Warcraft? Using these building blocks I’d managed to compile, I was forging my own unique stories – either to entertain my friends as we role-played a grand story I’d cooked up in my head or to keep myself company when I was at home (one of the downsides of being an only child).

My mother would tell you that the writing itch came early. She remembered the days when I would write little stories for the whole family to buy. Spin-offs for popular franchises as I mused about what what came after happily-ever-afters.

But I think another big influence on me came from high school. In English, we were expected to write short stories. Many among my grade began to hone their talents on platforms like FictionPress and FanFiction.net (yes, I was alive in the time before Archive of Our Own). I’m sure a few of them also had LiveJournals but they never shared those details and I never got around to creating an account.

Most of our stories were limited to a thousand words. But as we wrote more and more, we began to experiment with the formula. Some wrote deliciously. Their grasp of the English language far exceeding their age. Even if the only thing they ever wrote was Cardcaptor Sakura fanfiction. Others, of course, fell into the typical traps – describing eyes as orbs and making sure they contained every shade of colour besides boring brown.

I, for one, tried my hand at writing a story about a renowned mercenary. Then there was my attempt at writing my very own Eragon. Except, instead of a fearsome dragon, I had the lohrar. A fictional creature that – for all intents and purposes – was a dragon by any other name. I also tried to find an alternate name for horses but crafting an entirely new language was beyond my measly thirteen-year-old means. Unfortunately, I did not have Tolkien’s keen talent for crafting new syntax and grammar.

In the end, though, I was more interested in reading the works of my friends and strangers. What I’m trying to say, dear reader, is that during high school I fell quite deep into the fanfiction rabbit hole. Not as a writer, but as a reader.

Writing also proved to be more troublesome than it was worth. At least, back in high school. I had great reading comprehension but the standardised testing environment meant a lot of my creativitiy had no room to flourish. I was writing to a specific audience and they had no patience for experimental thinkers. All stories needed to carry with it a sense of realism and angst (but it could not be teenage angst).

Suffice it to say, I did not become a prolific author in high school. Nor did I truly pursue it as an art at university. Sure, there was a degree in creative writing, but what would have been the practical applications of it? It certainly would not have had the same ring as a Bachelor of Criminology and Criminal Justice (which is equally useless but looks MUCH better on the resume).

It was after I graduated tertiary education that the writing bug bit me again. During this time, of course, I was still reading. Neither high school nor the gruelling university courses saw me stop reading books. From fantasy to crime and thriller. I had even saw fit to try my hand on several of the ‘classics.’

I like to think the days of working a boring desk job and taking a proper hour’s lunch break was what sparked my imagination anew. It started with walking by a construction site and imagining the shenanigans that might ensue if a litter of kittens decided to call it home. After all, I already had a blog where I was trying my hand at writing opinionated blog pieces (though the intention had been to keep it more as a diary of sorts). From there, it all spiralled.

By continuing to write, week after week, be it story or blog, it became almost second nature. No longer did I have to wait for inspiration to strike. Ideas began to flow. No longer was a blank Word document a daunting task.

In fact, it was a welcome blank canvas.

Admittedly, there are still days where I would like for an idea in my head to automatically appear already formed in a novel but if I have to be the one to pen it, I’ll gladly take it on. It certainly beats using generative AI to craft a bestseller.

And sure, each lone sentence might not seem perfect but consistent effort and giving myself permission to go back and edit (if need be) has worked wonders. I might not be greatest writer of all time but who, in our current age, could claim such a title? There are authors I lionised in my childhood that have, in more recent outings, churned out pieces of work I now find distasteful.

That said, maybe I could work on bringing more descriptive imagery back to my stories. I just need to work out how to express it as perfectly as possible…

The Burden of Choice

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

Many works have drawn a thin line between hate and love. Personally, I have regarded the two extremes as two sides of the same coin. Look no further to the lengths one might go to protect those they treasure and you might understand where I’m coming from. While most would uplift the mother who would upend an SUV to reach their child trapped underneath, they would also shun the smothering nature of that same love if the mother were to suprress the child’s inner self in a desperate bid to ‘protect’ them from the dangers of the wider world.

It is a dilemma as old as time itself.

How can a person filled with so much love be so hateful? But I have an easy answer to that. The stories we tell ourselves, of heroes standing up for the common man, also bely the destruction we cause in the name of those we claim we want to save.

In Senua’s Saga: Hellblade II, this is the ultimate thesis that is presented to our protagonist at game’s end. And as the credits roll, we, the players are left not knowing Senua’s ultimate choice at the end (though it is implied she eschews the power bestowed upon her). In our current age, it is a poignant message that feels more powerful than the one Christopher Nolan was trying to push in The Odyssey (and while the movie was still good, I felt it was a little hamfisted. Plus, I would have preferred more shenanigans by the Gods. Personally, if Nolan had opted instead for an original story, one still set in a bygone era, I think it might have worked better).

That said, I am saddened by the fact the developers behind two video games I’ve played this year have been cast off by their Xbox masters. With PlayStation announcing an end to physical discs by 2028 (and don’t even get me started on the exorbitant amount of money Grand Theft Auto 6 will cost AND the fact it won’t release with a physical copy), it feels like the gaming industry has pivoted in a direction I am loathe to follow.

But I am getting ahead of myself. As with all good stories, one should start from the beginning. And when it comes to Senua’s Saga: Hellblade II, we see our protagonist on a slave ship as it sails towards Iceland.

After hearing stories of her people being kidnapped, Senua has willingly allowed herself to be captured so she can rescue her people. Before they can land, however, a storm intercepts them and wrecks the ship. Senua washes up on shore alone and without any weapons. As she makes her way up the coast, looking for survivors, she is accompanied by the ever present voices that are party and parcel of her psychosis. It is not long before she stumbles upon some of the others on the boat, along with the slavemasters. Upon defeating Thorgestr, she chooses to spare his life and takes him prisoner so he can lead her to Borgarviki.

As they journey away from the shore, they stumble upon a settlement that has been razed to the ground by what Thorgestr describes as draugar. Sensing there is something she must find at the village, Senua ties Thorgestr to a post and ventures inside. Inside, she frees Fargrimr. As she returns to the entrance, the party of three are chased by a giant named Illtauga.

From there, the game adopts a fairly typical three act structure in terms of its narrative where Senua must come to understand the true name of each of the three giants plaguing the settlements she comes to, and putting an end to the ruin they bring. Along the way, we come to understand the struggles and hardships experienced by the people who have made a home in Iceland.

More importantly, where once Senua’s psychosis was a debilitating condition, she now moves in lockstep with it. In fact, rather than shackling her, Senua is revealed to be a seer who can see things others cannot. What was once a burden is now a gift. One Senua uses to her advantage as she unlocks hidden passages through her ability to see patterns in the world around her – and which allows her to communicate with the Hiddenfolk.

At game’s end, Senua faces against Godi – Thorgestr’s father – and the epitome of the insidious nature of power’s corrupting nature. Her fight with Godi finally unmasks him for who he is. With Godi defeated, Senua is urgedto take his place – winning the love, fear and power that would come with the position.

While I enjoyed the narrative for what it was, I did feel like it was a little simplistic. That said, learning about the truths behind each of the giants plaguing the settlements was a delight. I also very much liked the use of the binaural recording approach when it came to the voices Senua hears. It helped add important clues to the gaming world and provide some much needed ongoing commentary on what Senua might be thinking when presented with the myriad of problems she faces on her journey.

In the end, the fact we have free will is a burden. Especially when it comes to how we wield it. There is always talk about fate and destiny but ultimately, I feel, it’s the choices we make each and every day that help inform who we are as people. For, by choosing mercy, Senua was able to free herself (maybe) of her father’s shadow.

Still, the one thing I disagree with when it comes to the message Senua’s Saga ends with is the very black and white duality of each choice. The emphasis on darkness and light forgets that not all things can be reduced to binary choices. And, in fact, by only looking from one extreme to the other, we forget there is a third option we can pick.

Yet, while I would have loved to praise Senua’s Saga for all the things it does right, the gameplay felt a little undercooked. Especially when it came to the combat.

Senua’s Saga does not have a typical HUD most gamers would be familiar with. Instead, it goes for a cinematic approach akin to the one-take approach from the recent God of War games. While this works wonderfully for the puzzles and cutscenes, it is less helpful when fighting enemies. I know I certainly struggled with knowing whether or not my attacks were actually dealing damage or if I needed to change my strategy by placing more emphasis on using ‘focus.’

WIthout knowing how many hits Senua could take in a given fight proved frustrating midway through the game where I had to change the dynamic difficulty to something easier to manage. Then, of course, there was the less than intuitive parrying system. I could not, for the life of me, tell if I was pressing too early or too late. All I knew was that I Senua’s guard had been broken and she was scrambling to stave off her enemies. Or worse, she was severely wounded and I did not know if I had the capability to bring her back from the brink of defeat.

Admittedly, I also feel like there could have been a few more puzzles. For most of Senua’s Saga, I felt like I was simply running from one end of a majestic Icelandic landscape to the other with little to do inbetween. Yes, the lorestones and faces were fun collectibles but they added only a little variety the quest from point A to point B.

And on that note, I do feel like many of the other characters Senua interacted with just felt like vessels for the narrative. Fargrimr and Astridr merely serve as props to further uplift Senua. Even the bubbling enemies-to-possible-lovers thing Senua has with Thorgestr felt like there was a lot of untapped potential if certain scenes were given more time to breathe with a longer game.

There is so much more Senua’s Saga could have been. But the choices the developers made pull it down from the lofty heights of other poignant indie titles. From both a narrative standpoint and a gameplay persective, Senua’s Saga: Hellblade 2 fell short of my expectations. The few things I can praise it for? The dedication the developers have paid in relation to what it might be like to live with psychosis, the gorgeous visuals and the clever use of binaural audio.

Right. With that out of the way, what game will I tackle next?

Assassin’s Creed: Shadows? Oh no! Well…that’ll be another four posts of varying quality about the thoughts in my head and trying to spin them into fun novel ways for your consumption that doesn’t come off as too preachy or condescending.

Odin, grant me strength!

The Pirate Yakuza Who Fell From Grace With The Sea

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

One of my more reecnt work book club picks was Yukio Mishima’s The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With The Sea. A lengthy title if ever I saw one. And which, the original Japanese title could be translated just to ‘Afternoon Tow’ or ‘Tugging in the Afternoon.’ Which, if I’m being honest, is less of a mouthful.

Translated into English in 1965, the novel tells the story of a group of nihilistic and psychotic school boys who end up murdering a ship’s officer after he begins dating the mother of one of the boys (Noboru). Worse, there were several plot beats that only served to heighten my discomfort. One of these being Noboru spying on his mother’s bedroom. Then there was the scene where him and his group kill a an innocent kitten (foreshadowing, I suppose but it did feel unnecessarily gratuitous). And while I’m sure I’ve made it clear I did not enjoy my time with the book, I bring it up to juxtapose its narrative (and the philosophy it’s trying to explore) with the one I found in Like a Dragon: Pirate Yakuza in Hawaii (Pirate Yakuza for short).

Yes. This is still a post where I detail my thoughts about a video game! Bet you didn’t see where this was going based on the first two paragraphs!

Both of the stories found in the novel and video game, respectively, explore a young boy’s relationship with a mysterious adult who enters their life. While Noboru initially venerates the sailor, Ryuji, this quickly fades and he is left with a list of grievances that the hapless naval officer must answer for with a ‘glorious’ death. In contrast, the Mad Dog of Shimano, Goro Majima is found on the beach on Rich Island with no memory of his past. In gratitude for the boy saving his life, Majima promises to take the asthmatic young fellow on a grand adventure to see the wider world. More importantly, he does so in what many would consider a heroic fashion (even if he does adopt a pirate persona) by beating up would-be bad guys and building his reputation on being a more ‘savoury’ sort of anti-hero.

From a narrative standpoint, Pirate Yakuza is somewhat simplistic. This is not an adventure that will take upwards of sixty or so hours like most of the mainline titles (though it does try to cram in a multitude of minigames and side activities). Rather, it’s a truncated side story of the Like a Dragon universe, much like The Man Who Erased His Name before it. Except, of course, we have swapped out Kiryu with Majima. Because who else would decide to become a pirate sailing the high seas towards the likes of Madlantis?

Much like the nautical adventures from which the English version of Pirate Yakuza names each chapter, the overall narrative involves the hunt for a legendary treasure that was lost during the Age of Discovery. After an amnesiac Majima is able to join the dots and figure out why ex-yakuza are helping clean up an island that was used to dump nuclear waste, the race is on to find the Esperanza treasure. Along the way, he must contend with the other rapscallions who have created a pirate haven known as Madlantis somewhere in the Pacific for the prize.

And even after his fight with a giant squid, and recovering the memories he has lost, Majima continues with the pirate adventure to ensure his young protege – young Noah Rich – can live out his dreams of seeing the world.

In fact, if there was one thing I walked away with when the credits rolled, it is the desire to keep chasing whatever foolish dreams I might have. After all, it’s not a life worth living if we stay shuttered inside (or on a small island) and wistfully thinking of the possibilities that might be out there. So, I say unto you, dear readers, this is your life…so go LIVE IT (that may or may not have been stolen from a song in Descendants: Wicked Wonderland. Yes. I know. I’m as shocked as you that this is what I do in my spare time too)! And once you’ve chased one dream to its natural end, find another!

Even if you can’t get to all the dreams you may have, your living legacy will be the people and friends you’ve met along the way. And hopefully, they will be able to finish off your mad dream and begin another!

Eschewing the turn-based combat from the two most recent entries following Ichiban Kasuga, Pirate Yakuza brings back the button-mashing action style of the Kiryu adventures. Yet unlike Yakuza 0 when we first go to play as the infamous one-eyed yakuza, Majima only has two fighting styles he can cycle through. Mad Dog and Sea Dog. Both control smoothly though I favoured Mad Dog for one-on-one fights and Sea Dog when I had to deal with crowd control.

Beyond the combat – which did get a little stale when fighting against the endless thugs on the streets of Honolulu and out on the wider seas, the game also introduces ship combat. While I did feel sailing across the seas was a little slow without the boost, equipping my decadent pirate ship with anachronistic weaponry and taking down enemy vessels was a fun diversion. I mean, who wouldn’t want to shoot a rocket launcher at their opponents? Or, heck, fire lasers to their portside?

Then, of course, there were all the minigames the developers Ryu Ga Gotoku managed to cram in. From batting cannonballs into explosive barrels, Crazy Delivery, Sicko Snap (honestly, why is this as good as it is?) to Dragon Kart. Suffice it to say, I gave each and every single minigame a go. Except for mahjong. Because my luck is atrocious and the rules for Japanese play still don’t quite make sense to me.

But of course, it would not be a Like a Dragon game if I do not talk about the substories. And while some were there to simply introduce the minigames I would sink a couple of hours in, others also had their own unhinged moments of much needed levity. From having to calm down a polar bear called Stephanie-chan (the subsequent substory has a tiger and as you wrap up, as Majima and the ringmaster are chatting, the tiger is chasing several thugs in the background) to being flirted with by the cat-tiger companion Noah found on the beach of Rich Island.

Then there was the full-motion video portion when I was wrapping up the substories. For thirty or so minutes, I sat on my couch and watched Masaru’s Love Journey. The cringe. The slapstick comedy. The unsettled expressions on the faces of the dates Majima managed to round up earlier.

While the comedy wasn’t quite to my tastes, it was certainly a lot less awkward than Kiryu chatting up full-motion video of real life models and actresses when he went to the cabaret. Or the…questionable videos that featured in the song Samurai Ondo from Like a Dragon: Ishin! and Yakuza 0 (and I definitely noped out of those as quickly as possible).

Truly, the pinnacle of male (and female…and non-binary and even genderfluid) fantasy!

There is much to love when it comes to Like a Dragon: Pirate Yakuza in Hawaii but what I appreciate the most is how the characters we see almost always promote healthier ideals of masculinity. From their progressive views on what many would consider unsavoury types of work and how they are non-judgemental.

While Kiryu, Ichiban and Majima will jump in at almost every opportunity to defend women, they are also accepting when the women they help also want to fight alongside (that said, this may just be due to game mechanics and how it’s set up). But more importantly, they respect the choices the women make. And they’re also unafraid of showing emotions and expressing vulnerability.

In the end, the themes in Like a Dragon: Pirate Yakuza in Hawaii is a repudiation of the ones explored in The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With The Sea. Kindness and trusting others should be the goal we all strive for. Greed should be punished. And where one dream ends, another shoudl rise to take its place. The world is a beautiful thing and we must not take it for granted.

And yes, you should play it if you want a little whimsy, pirates, good vibes and a little craziness in your life! Heck, if the above doesn’t sell it to you, let it be known there’s a whole dance sequence at the end!

Con-ventionally Exhausted

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

Though it’s only hit the halfway mark, 2026 has proven to be a historic year in human history. Whether for good or ill, it has certainly made its mark with the number of disasters around the world. And while The Horrors do not usually sit heavy on my soul as I go about my day-to-day living, there is a certain weariness that has crept into my daily routines. Worse, this malaise does not seem relegated only to me. Rather, it has seeped into the very fabric of society as a whole. And even once fun events have taken on a more jaded approach.

2026 was supposed to be a year of new beginnings. In fact, I had been keenly looking froward to more personal growth as the year on (and I suppose when it comes to writing horror novellas during the editing phase of my grander fantasy novelist ambitions, this has gone swimmingly. I just need to publish them). But what I was looking forward to the most was hanging out with friends as we attended one convention after the other.

While I think it started off strong with Animaga in February (a convention that its roots in Melbourne), the enhusiasm has been slowly whittled away by large claustrophobic crowds and the controversy of allowing international artists to man stalls at the Sydney Manga and Anime Show (or SMASH! for short). In between the two anime heavyweights, there was also the pop culture giant, Supanova, with a smorgasboard of celebrities to meet and greet. These included, but were not limited to, Holly Marie Combs, Simon Pegg and Christopher Lloyd.

Yet as I meandered my way through the stalls, the once bright spark that eagerly fuelled my earlier years of attendance was gone. I suppose some of it might be due to the lack of a franchise that has captured the imagination of millions. Yes, there are live action shows for Avatar: The Last Airbender and One Piece but the hype has died down. Even Kpop Demon Hunters saw a dip in fan merchandise being peddled at the artist alley.

And while the finale for The Amazing Digital Circus had only recently been in theatres, the merchandise was not exhaustive. True, there were charms and stickers but there was also plenty of Helluva universe goodies and Critical Role fanart on display too.

Admittedly, I am more appreciative of more diverse fandoms being represented (there were several longs years where Genshin Impact was the only heavyweight carrying the dreams of the starving artists putting their work out for public consumption), I do think a part of my discontent with attending conventions has come with age and the practicalities of many of the merchandise options.

What do I do with the million pins available? I can’t stick them to every single piece of clothing I own. Nor can I jab them into the leather bag I use for work. Then there are the countless charms and keychains. But the worst offender are the posters. Still living at home (and after a heated fight several years back), I was adamant I would be moving out. But in so doing, I took down all the amazing art I had populated on the walls of my bedroom and my cramped upstairs gaming area. Since then, and despite the reparations in family relationships), I have not seen fit to put them back up. After all, I still intend to move out and the numerous landscapes are intended to calm the raging hurt deep within my soul.

Instead, as bleachpanda, can attest, my interests have veered towards crochet dolls. Yet even here, I find myself beset by another problem: space. After all, there is only so many I can buy. And as someone who also indulges in a lot of other physical media (books, board games and Lego), there is only a limited number of square metres I can devote to all my various interests and hobbies.

And on that note, it should also be acknowledged bleachpanda has also lost much of her previous enthusiasm due to rise of Vtuber guests and fewer Japanese voice actors she’s interested in attending SMASH! That said, she did spend an exorbitant amount of money on earrings while at Supanova and seemed to have enjoyed herself much more at the smaller Animaga (even buying a varsity jacket that I still haven’t seen her wear every time we catch up).

On a more worrying note, there has also been a rise in collectible cards taking up more space at these conventions too. Especially when it comes to exhibitor stalls manned by businesses with cash to splash around. This was especially true at Supanova where every second stall was hawking rare Pokemon cards.

And this is from a Disney Lorcana collector, who barely sees any interest for the fandom apart from social media posts. Honestly, I’d like to see more of a scene in Australia but I’m also too much of a homebody to go out. Which probably only adds to the problem.

Trading card games aside, there are still a few more conventions coming to Australian shores. And while past me would have gladly attended, I find myself a little more reticent to participate. Oz Comic Con may have already stacked the odds by inviting Miranda Otto but despite all the investment I’ve put in, it just feels like there’s been too few returns.

That said, if they manage to wrangle some of my favourite fantasy authors, I may give it a second look.

As for now, I am a little tuckered out by the three conventions I’ve already attended since the start of 2026 and dismayed by the lack of merchandise for the fandoms I am still a part of.

Will 2027 be different? Who knows. For now, I’ll just settle for the vain hope the world will still be intact as I indulge in all the new video games that will, no doubt, keep my interest engaged as everything else implodes around me.

See! Optimism!

Why does everyone think I’m a pessimist?

Rewriting Life’s Trajectory

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

Disney and Pixar movies defined my childhood. It started with VCR tapes I would watch on loop – most notably, The Lion King, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin. Now, as a grown adult, it has manifested in a love for the Disney Lorcana trading card game, day one screenings for the latest animated film, and a much abused Disney+ subscription.

Yet despite their primary audiences being for children, I still find many of their films enjoyable and rich with meaning. The most recent offering, Toy Story 5, and its focus on Jessie as the protagonist almost had me bubbling up with tears right there in the theatre. Especially when Jessie found the time capsule her first owner, Emily, left behind for her daughter and realised that though she was donated, the time she had spent with Emily still had a significant impact on the girl she once knew.

And it is this I’ve also been slowly coming to terms with in recent years as I grapple with my own sense of existential dread and the unlikeliness I will ever leave behind a living legacy. Despite the voice in my head saying the people I know would have lived lives uncharged, or even superior, if I had never been born, I like to think I’ve been a positive force for many. Whether it’s through the stories I write and share, or even this humble blog where I put thoughts down on digital paper.

A friend of mine, certainly, has mentioned that had it not been for my commitment to the craft, she might not have a fairly successful web comic making its rounds on webtoons and tapas (shoutout to Rinbeti and her Matchbreakers Club). Then there’s the work friend who decided to hop back on the dating train after I regaled her with stories of my adventures (she’s now in a relationship).

Then there are the ones I’ve lost touch with over the years. The ones, as they say, ‘who got away.’ In the quiet moments, I find myself wondering if they still think of me or if I was merely an ephemereal ghost; another face in a crowd of thousands that fade from memory.

I like to think every interaction I’ve had has ever so slightly adjusted my life’s trajectory. While they might never have been sliding door moments or canon events that will eventuate into another parallel universe, the experiences I’ve gone through have shaped me into the person I am today – warts and all. The same can be said of my presence in their lives. Be it a relationship advisor, a big sister type, the quiet girl on the bus reading yet another hefty fantasy book who introduces you to a world beyond imagining, or the invisible classmate on the periphery of every memory.

All these moments, big or small, leave an imprint on others. Even if, at the end of the day, you may not remember the interaction at all.

From a personal standpoint, I have been surprised by colleagues who describe our first interaction as warm. Then there are the stories I’ve been told of a friend’s sister who occasionally reads my blogs and the solace they’ve found – though admittedly I don’t see myself as much of an influencer or role model. And if they were to ever put me on a pedestal to idolise, goodness knows I’d be running in the opposite direction.

That isn’t to say I don’t have regrets. I do. Being the anxious overthinker, I replay a lot of the conversations I’ve had over the years. Many a time, I have wished for the chance to start over – to be more selective in the word choices I made or the tone I said everything in. But while many will brush over it, or consider it water under the bridge, I can’t help but worry of the times my words and actions actually inflict hurt or pain to others when it was not my intention to do so.

Just one bad day could see someone’s life trajectory careen off a cliff. I have certainly had days when I have felt neglected and abandoned by those I hold dear, masking the sadness I feel with either aloofness or a jovial smile. My inner thoughts obscured even as I try to decipher those around me from the miniscule movements in their eyes or facial muscles (and I like to think I’m quite good at it too though, of course, I won’t be able to read a person’s mind exactly).

It’s like the song: For Good sung at the end of Wicked. People come into our lives for a reason, bringing something we must learn. And we are led to those who’ll help us most to grow, if we let them and we help in return.

And when it comes to Jessie and Emily from Toy Story, we see Emily become who she is because she had Jessie by her side (even naming her daughter after the doll she played). Admittedly, I don’t think I’ll be naming my hypothetical child after a toy I played with, there have been characters in many a story that have inspired me.

From Hermione Granger (I so desperately wanted her to be real and be her friend in real life) to Kaladin and Arenza Lenskaya (from more recent novels I’ve enjoyed). But I would be remiss in failing to mention the video game characters that also helped define who I am now. From the characters in Kingdom Hearts to the Sly Racoon series and so many more.

Every new person I meet, whether they are real or fictional, is a gift. One who can present to me a whole new world of possibilities and stories of the life they have led to now. Some might call it being nosy. I like to think I just have a healthy dose of curiosity. After all, I only have one life to live and there are billions of humans around me who are experiencing something different and unique that I’ll never be able to witness or be a part of.

But knowing I might have played an integral part of their lives? Priceless.

Here’s hoping there are more I can lend a helping hand to as we collectively navigate our way through this strange thing called ‘life.’ Now back to the daily grind of writing eldritch horror stories for the entertainment of my imaginary audience!

And occasionally frightening the people around me with prescient statements of truth!

Apocalypse High

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

Following the rather intense family drama that was Clair Obscur: Expedition 33, I was keen for a palate cleanser of a game before I embarked on another high-octane rollicking adventure. Enter Goodbye Volcano High – a coming-of-age story featuring anthropomorphic dinosaurs that have to contend with school and love during the end times as an asteroid comes hurtling towards the Earth. A cosy game, indeed!

You play as Fang, a non-binary pteradactyl who dreams of playing at CalderaFest with her eclectic rock band. After a summer where they were left alone, they must navigate the terse and fraught friendships they have with their fellow bandmates while also dealing with a world-ending event. And honestly, given how 2026 has gone, I couldn’t help but relate. We may not have an asteroid that will wipe out entire civilisations headed towards us THIS year but with all the ‘unprecedented’ things happening around the globe, it can certainly feel overwhelming. I certainly feel like I’ve become desensitised to each new catastrophe. And I don’t even live in the United States of America.

From a narrative perspective, Goodbye Volcano High keeps it simple as it borrows elements from other life-simulator games that have come before. Think Life is Strange, Dispatch or Lost Records: Bloom and Rage except without the supernatural powers and a stronger focus on high scoolers living their dream of becoming a successful rock band. The first few chapters of the game, after all, are focused on the Battle of the Band competition that will be happening at Lava Java. And while they ultimately succeed, it is not without a few stumbles along the way.

Throughout the six hours of gameplay, I watched as Fang interacted with family and friends. From the struggles they faced due to to new rift between them and best friend, Trish, who has newly returned from bug camp with a new beau, Rosa (or so it’s implied). To being contacted anonymously by a secret admirer following fears the world will end and finding new inspiration for their music.

This all ties neatly into the gameplay which has the player choose between the various responses Fang may have when interacting with friends and family. Are they snide and snappy? Positively brimming with excitement? Or are they subdued and resigned – fearful that they will never have their dream come true?

While the game did incorporate an affinity element for the various other characters, it never proved to be as intuitive as I would have liked. Nor did the ‘photos’ aspect of the game make sense to me in terms of the requirements for unlocking them all. At least I managed to get all the flashbacks – colourful comic-style vignettes that gave some background to the relationships between various characters.

That said, Goodbye Volcano High could have spent a little longer with each of the characters and their unique dynamic with Fang. Many of Fang’s immediate circle felt like caricatures. There was Reed, the third member of Worm Drama, who was obsessed with Legends and Lore (L&L for short and a derivative of Dungeons and Dragons. That said, I did love the shoutout to everyon’e favourite liveplay tabletop role-playing group: Critical Role. And who can forget ‘toothy maw?’ Though, in this rendition, it’s ‘gaping maw.’) and being relatively zen with regards to the end of the world.

Then there’s Naser, Fang’s brother and school body president to the high school they attend. While he is somewhat uptight at the start of the game, he is primarily there to frustrate Fang with the innumerable puns he likes to come up with and be a strait-laced foil to the rebellious main character.

Naomi, too, starts off Goodbye Volcano High as know-it-all perfectionist and best friend to Naser. And while she isn’t exactly an antagonist, she and Fang don’t have much in common until it’s revealed she is Fang’s secret admirer.

And how could I forget Sage and Stella? Colourful pastel members of the Dinogang, they along with Rosa, mostly sit on the periphery of Fang’s story. While Sage and Rosa are keen adventuring party members for the L&L game, they mostly sit on the sidelines and serve as backup support for much of the narrative.

Like many indie games with a high school aesthetic, Goodbye Volcano High has a strong focus on music. As Fang is the lead guitarist and vocalist for Worm Drama, the game features a minigame where Fang and the rest of the band play their songs out in front of an audience using directional and button inputs in lieu of actual instrument playing. While it took some time to understand the controls, by the time the Battle of the Bands was underway, I was able to hit each note right on beat to get a perfect score.

Beyond choosing dialogue options and the music minigame, there isn’t much to say about the gameplay for Goodbye Volcano High. Even with its incorporation of an off-brand version of Dungeons and Dragons, most of the dice rolls were scripted in some way or form. That said, the fact there were two trophies tied to what you rolled did not sit well with me considering there were few opportunities for this to occur (AND the roll itself was still randomised).

Was Goodbye Volcano High a poignant game capable of reaching the heights of Clair Obscur: Expedition 33? No. But it was certainly a fine distraction with its own slew of themes that I was able to relate to:

  • feeling distant from close friends as they find new interests and make new friends;
  • dealing with the daily Horrors and existential dread that is life in our current timeline;
  • being more interested in things my ‘friends’ barely bat an eye at; and
  • absentee parents.

So, all in all, Goodbye Volcano High was a nice short life simulator of a game with talking anthropomorphic dinosaurs with decent indie rock music that could have been expanded upon, and decent art that wasn’t too jarring to look at (even though I do think it could have been better).

Now, onto shenanigans on the high seas with Like a Dragon: Pirate Yakuza in Hawaii!

When One Falls, We Continue

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

From the very first trailer I saw, I knew there was something special about Clair Obscur: Expedition 33. While I could not have imagined it would rise to the heights of Game of the Year 2025, there were a few favourable elements to the game that drew my eye. The grim atmosphere, the Belle Epoque setting and the mystery surrounding the world itself. After all, who was this mysterious Paintress who seemed to rule over the world? It should come as no surprise, dear reader, that I went to buy the title day one – though I did struggle to find it in stores and had to explicitly ask the people at the counter if it was still available. Unfortunately, given all the other games I still had in my backlog, Expedition 33 was forced to sit on my shelf for an entire year before I could find the chance to play it.

Though many have classified Expedition 33 as a Japanese role-playing game (JRPG) because of the ‘turn-based’ combat, I would have to strongly disagree. There is one major reason for this: all the basic tropes are missing.

It does not start off with a bright-eyed protagonist chasing chickens in their small village. Disaster does not strike when our protagonist returns home after finishing their chores. The party is not an eclectic band of misfits with a talking animal or two (though given Monoco was named after the Dessendre family’s pet dog…maybe they can get away with it?). And in the end, the final boss they fight against is not God.

Rather, Expedition 33 sees us in the shoes of Gustave. He is up on a roof overlooking the city of Lumiere as they prepare for the annual gommage. The worst thing that could have happened to the world occurred 67 years ago in an event known only as the Fracture. Since then, the giant Paintress who sits at the base of a towering Monolith rises up and change the number on the countdown. Anyone who is older vanishes into a swirl of flower petals. Desperate, the people of Lumiere seek ways to put an end to this ghastly ritual in the hope that future generations will not have to suffer as they have.

In just these first few moments, Expedition 33 manages to pull you in. The plight of the people of Lumiere is laid bare for all to see. Before too long, the expedition sets out towards the Monolith. Almost immediately as they land, things go wrong. A mysterious man decimates most of the expedition. Believing himself to be the only survivor and overwhelmed by the enormity of the destruction around him, Gustave wavers. It is not until Lune finds him that his belief in the mission is renewed. From there, the two journey across the Continent and manage to find two other survivors – Maelle and Sciel.

Along the way, the game introduces the player to its ‘active’ turn-based combat. For, rather than sit idly by and allow one’s stats to determine if an enemy attack will hit or miss, players have the ability to parry, dodge or jump enemy attacks. To my initial dismay, there is no clear indication that flashes over the enemy. Parry, dodges and even jumps need to be timed to the animation of the foes you face to ensure it’s done perfectly. And, if you’re able to parry all the other attacks, the expedition is able to launch a powerful counter. Even attacks made by the expedition is littered with quick-time events to ensure they land or deal more damage. Admittedly, this meant that I could not set up a video on the side to watch as I grinded my way to victory (as is usually the case with turn-based games).

The combat, combined with the distinct style of the nevrons – the enemies you fight – made me wonder if Sandfall Interactive had also looked to the Soulsborne games for inspiration. Many of the nevrons, certainly, would have perfectly fit the dark fantasy aesthetic. Then there were the cryptic dialogues from both ‘faded’ characters and a number of white-coloured nevrons that you can assist, which served to add to the mystery of the world.

I also very much enjoyed the music. Were many pieces rifts from others with leit motifs carried throughout? Why, yes. Yes, they were. But it was still hauntingly beautiful in all the right ways. That said, my favourite piece came from the mime battles. There is something about hearing a jaunty accordian tune that I loved. To be fair, if the soundtracks for Octopath Traveler or Xenoblade Chronicles had also been in contention for Best Score, I would have called foul if Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 had won.

While I did very much enjoy the game, there were a few puzzling elements to game design that had me scratching my head. The lack of a minimap, no sense of how much further the end goal might be in a dungeon, no journal for the main quests and select few sidequests, and the inverse mapping for the pause menu with the party stats menu. None of these minor quibbles ruined the game for me but I found the absence of these quality-of-life tweaks absolutely baffling.

Gameplay aside, I have to admit the story (and the characters) were what sold me on the game. Though Expedition 33 starts off as a lofty ‘destroy the evil Paintress and save Lumiere’ story, the journey across a fantastical Paris is actually an insightful deep dive into grief and the dangers that come with using escapism as a coping method.

I am, dear reader, no stranger to grief. I lost my own father at the age of twelve. In this year alone, I have lost two of my grandparents in quick succession. Death and I have walked hand-in-hand for a good long while – whether it be in the stories I read or the movies I watch. So, when it came down to the final choice, I had to side with Verso. Maelle’s desire to stay was too self-destructive for my tastes. Worse, she had not learned from her time in the Canvas. Bringing back the people she had lost when the Paintress was ousted is not healthy. No matter how much I, the player, also cared for Sciel and Lune (for goodness sake, Lune is my favourite character out of them all and NOT because of her bare feet. In fact, for my entire playthrough, I kept Lune in outfits where her feet were covered because seeing them as she ran across the Continent – or floated – just gave me such a big ick).

That is not to say, however, that Maelle did not have good reason. To me, she is probably one of the most tragic characters in Clair Obscur. Wracked with survivor’s guilt, filled with self-loathing for her imperfect body (was it me or was it so odd her family never got her a glass eye to replace the one she lost?) and still mourning the loss of her brother, I can see why she would choose to remain in the Canvas. After all, it was the only place she found a sense belonging and experienced unconditional love from those she might consider parental figures (though, that said, it is clear Renoir does love her dearly and wants only the best for her – look no further than the Axon he painted for her in The Reacher). But the problem with staying IN the Canvas is that it’s a want. It’s not what she needs.

And what Maelle (otherwise known as Alicia) needs (along with the rest of the Dessendre family) is a therapist. And it is here I find a quote from Buffy the Vampire Slayer the most poignant: ‘The hardest thing in this world is live in it.’ Maelle refuses to live in the real world where she sees herself as broken. Even when her father tries to reassure her that she has a future and limitless potential. Instead of heeding the tenets of the expedition: ‘Tomorrow comes’ and ‘when one falls, we continue,’ Maelle continues to strive for what she cannot have.

Loss is hard.

I know when my father passed, and I saw his body lying in that small hospital bed, I wanted to believe he would wake up. Even when it was the day of his funeral and he was placed in his casket, I couldn’t help think he would open his eyes and smile at me one last time. But I also knew, following several discussions with my mother and grandmother prior to his death, that even when people we love are gone, the world continues to turn – and us with it.

The circumstances often seem cruel and unfair. My father was still young, after all. He could have lived another quarter century or more if fortune had smiled on him.

In fact, the only thing we can do is keep going on. To take one step after another. And commit to doing ‘The Next Right Thing.’ The pain never quite heals but we learn to handle it. Something I fear Maelle never truly accepts or learns.

The same cannot be said for Painted Verso. He has lived a full life but remains in this fake world, immortal. Worse, he knows he is but a copy of the real Verso. That knowledge torments him and though his initial goal is to save his Maman from drowning in her grief, he also knows it comes with a price.

While I’m sure many would argue that Maelle and Verso are two sides of the same coin, I feel like there’s still an underlying difference in their motivations. Verso looks first to his family and how to best keep them safe whereas Maelle is more inherently selfish in her wishes. I felt this was represented best with Verso’s final encounter with the Faded Boy – the trapped remnant of the real Verso’s soul and permits him to stop if he so wishes.

Admittedly, it did bug me a little that what started as a grand adventure to stop the Paintress turned into a family squabble. The world was so rich with possibility and I loved getting to know Lune, Sciel and Gustave.In fact, by making all of them so sympathetic, the final choice in the end is made all the more difficult. But from a narrative point of view, it takes away the grand stakes and replaces it with the private drama of a broken family.

That said, I appreciated all the bonding moments though I am of the opinion Sandfall should not have kept the romantic dalliances Verso has with Lune and Sciel in the game. After all, he had so much more chemistry with Monoco! The whole ‘little spoon’ line? Perfection.

And, I don’t know, if there had been a few more steamy scenes between Lune and Sciel, I might have come round to Maelle’s side.

Yes, dear reader, I am one of the few who ship Lune and Sciel together. They just work so well! Especially when they reminisced over the past and bonded over the death of Gustave at the start of Act 2!

I like to think with Verso’s ending, Maelle/ Alicia is able to move on. Or, at the very least, to make a new start and take the time to properly heal. While I do not know what that might look like, I have every hope she will take the memories of Expedition 33 to paint a brighter future for herself. It’s the least she deserves and it’s the very thing real Verso would have wanted for his little sister (even if Maman and Clea – to a degree – disagrees with. By the way, can we talk about how abrasive Clea was in most of her interactions with her little sister?).

There is much to love in Clair Obscur: Expedition 33. In fact, I can see why it managed to reach almost universal acclaim. That said, there are a few areas where it falls short – namely in a few choices pertaining to quality-of-life options for players and the terrible platforming (don’t even get me started on the final stage of the Gestral volleyball minigame) – but it is overall a game that is greater than the sum of its parts. From its complex and layered narrative to its tight gameplay mechanics that manage to weave it all together in a neat little package. Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 might not be a TRUE turn-based role-playing game in the veins of the old JRPGs of old, but it proves to be its own unique blend of genres.

On a side note, as a self-purported creative…I wonder how my characters feel when I abandon or scrap a story. Are they sentient? Should I be concerned about all the power I wield over their measly lives?

The things one must ponder…

The Hidden Core Revealed

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

I like to think I am a fairly well-adjusted individual. Despite losing two grandparents in successive months this year and my sole surviving grandmother a little addled and on antidepressants, I find myself thankful for the things I do have rather than what I don’t. After all, it takes a person of fortitutde to remain upbeat and cheery in the face of ‘The Horrors’ permeating ou world (though, I am by no means an upbeat or cheery person, it appears to have become a facade I wear and has become widely accepted at work).

Mostly, I attribute my affable and positive nature to the fact I’ve already adopted healthy habits. Even before watching endless YouTube videos or Tiktok dribble encouraging the same.

It is no secret I am an Asian woman in her mid-thirties. But what most people don’t know about me is that I do not endlessly doomscroll through the night (as I don’t have a lot of social media apps and my phone is usually in another room), I go on daily walks and actively sit with my thoughts (no podcasts or music to distract me from the natural world), and I read plenty of books when I am afforded the time to do so on my commutes to the office.

Creativity, it must be said, is my bread and butter. And while others may see it as me ‘being productive,’ I view it as a means of doing something I love as I go about a rather dreary life. I mean, why not escape the monotony of real life by writing eldritch horror novellas?

The world may be on fire but as long as it does not impact the corner of the internet I’ve eked out for myself, maybe I won’t feel so powerless? Why worry about the rise of far-right nationalism when I can simply enjoy Toy Story 5 and spend all my money on Disney Lorcana cards? It’s certainly a far better use of my time. After all, worrying about things outside of my control does not solve them either.

That said, I HAD intended to make this next post of mine be about Clair Obscur: Expedition 33. Technically, I could have wrapped up the story but as a completionist, I refuse to let the credits roll until I’ve done every conceivable thing within my power. This includes doing all the side content (and even reducing the difficulty to story because I cannot fathom bashing my head against a wall to try and nail the pixel perfect timing to parry every enemy I encounter on expert) and making sure I mop up all the collectibles.

Whether or not this is ‘growth’ is something I am still debating. But at the very least, it has been better for my mental health. Being able to freely talk about my experiences has also proved wondrous – though sympathetic ears in my immediate vicinity (i.e. my family) have been hard to find. Still, now that I understand how their perspectives are shaped, I no longer rise to the low-hanging fruit they try to bait me with. Anger is now an emotion I let go more often than not.

Yet for all the steps I take forward, there are still numerous backsteps. Like when I spiralled horrendously when a manager pointed out that I used the word ‘that’ for every third or fourth word. The blow struck had me wondering if I was even worthy of being in my current position at work or if I should quit then and there to find something better suited for my worthless hide. It took a day or two of careful self-talk to convince myself I was overreacting and this was a learning opportunity to be better.

Then there are the moments when I feel terribly lonely despite being surrounded by teammates or friends. While I do feel my mood changes most during the luteal phase (curse those gosh darn womanly hormones), it has enabled me to write some poetry as a means of articulating how I feel. While I’ve not shared much of it with anyone, it’s been good to express my emotions through other means rather than incoherent screaming over a slight inconvenience.

Being more conscious of these mood changes has also helped me be more in tune with what I want. Though I’m certain that the more I age, and as I enter perimenopause, all the good work I’ve done on behalf of my mental health will come completely apart.

Yet despite these gains, the loneliness persists. Some of it might be the physical distance between my friends. Other times it’s the gaping maw of disconnected experiences that conversation cannot fill.

I chalk it up to the fact I’ve always prided myself on being a good listener. For my entire childhood, I allowed myself to be a dumping ground. Hearing people vent about their problems helped shed light on who they were and what they considered important. It was an invaluable insight into those around me. But as time has passed, I’ve noticed that I know so much more about the tidbits of their lives but they seem to know nothing of mine. There’s no curiosity on their end. Or, when they try to express it, there’s always something a little hamfisted in their questions. It feels almost like an interrogation rather than a true understanding.

‘Why do you think that?’ I don’t know. I just do?

‘And how did it make you feel?’ Weren’t you listening? I already told you.

‘Oh wow. You’ve actually put a lot more thought into this situation than I would have believed.’ Well, you never asked. And you can’t read minds…so…

Maybe some of the problem comes from me. Despite the fact I’m happy to share certain anecdotes, the hidden parts of me don’t always get to be expressed. Among the group of friends I interact with the most, I find myself constrained to their perceptions. I can’t animatedly divulge about the video games I enjoy, the shows I’ve watched or even the music I listen to.

None of them are all that keen for board games except for a select few. Half of them will only ever attend a musical or two in their lifetime. And almost none of them read fantasy or any of the other titles I have on my extensive shelves.

When I do express enjoyment in something I like, it becomes the only thing they know me by.

Harry Potter. Kingdom Hearts. Detective Conan. Ace Attorney.

But I’m more than just these fandoms and franchises. There is so much more that I enjoy and do. Yet I have no one to share them with. No one to accept it and reciprocate my excitement.

Is it any wonder I keep searching for new friends outside the ones I already have? In a desperate quest for a deep connection?

So, yes. I may think I’m well-adjusted, and to most I appear that way, but there are hidden depths that have yet to be plunged. And I suppose that is true of almost everyone in the world. We all show the people around us facets of our lives but never quite the entire whole.

It often makes me wonder if people actually see me for me or simply the carefully constructed version of who I am. But that’s a philosophical discussion for another time.

Now, here. I gift onto you, dear reader, some terrible poetry I wrote at the end last last year/ early this year:

The empty chair spins around,

footsteps resound.

Half remembered conversations

tucked into the back.

Lost, forgotten, gathering dust

placed atop a stack.

A phrase, a word

A thousand memories stirred.

Time is a construct

in the warm laugh of a shared joke.

Of secrets spilled, a mask unveiled

before the descending and silencing cloak

The ghost of me

wanders through, wishing to be

a person in its entirety;

not a caricature of object impermanent

Filled solid by conversation –

My actions and desires, full acknowledgement

But fickle is the world’s nature

oft ignored, nothing major.

The deeds once done

pushed to the side, replaced.

No one sees the hurt they cause

never noticing how everything is interlaced.

The cracks widen

Throat tightens.

A sigh, a gasp

The empty dregs of a bottle

Nothing can compete with

the deep loneliness when it’s at full throttle.