The Art of Decision-Making

On July 12, 2023June 9, 2023 By kyndarisLeave a comment

Tactics Ogre is a game that first released in 1995. It saw a re-release on the PlayStation Portable (PSP) with a revamped title: Tactics Ogre: Let Us Cling Together before emerging once more to grace our consoles as Tactics Ogre Reborn. And as a fan of the Final Fantasy Tactics game, who also thoroughly enjoyed her time with Triangle Strategy, trying out the original inspiration behind these two games was a no-brainer. After all, strategy/ tactical role-playing games have always been able to present the conflicts of war in a both complex and engaging manner, especially when they allow for personal choices to influence the trajectory of where the story may go.

Of course, given this is a role-playing game from Japan, a supernatural element must be inserted. Along with a late-game reveal of the true antagonist. In Tactics Ogre, I was pulled a little from my enjoyment of the story when the initial focus was resolved and the final boss ended up being with a literal demon incarnation of the previous king.

True, they had sprinkled in some of King Dorgulua’s backstory with Catiua’s reveal but the war between the Gods and the Ogres (whilst present in the opening credits) was mentioned little throughout the game, what with its focus on the repercussions on war. So, the entire exposition with Dark Knights Barbas and Martym felt a little hamfisted in its attempt to introduce the big bad at the end of the game.

In a way, it also dismissed a lot of the earlier turmoil that took up the bulk of the game was insignificant as a God emerged from the depths to rule over the world. Especially as, even though you can have Catiua in your party, her relationship with King Dorgulua is never touched upon during that final battle.

Beyond these little titbits, as well as a few well-worn tropes of disguised royalty, I did still thoroughly enjoy the initial set-up of the game with Denam, Catiua and Vyce rebelling against Galgastan oppression on the Walisters. The internal fighting among the rebellion, the moral dilemma of whether or not to kill your own to drag unwilling participants into war and the underhanded tactics to install a ruler over the land of Valeria was a sight to behold.

In fact, it would have been the preference of this humble blogger if things had remained there with King Dorgulua’s name fading into the annals of history. Or if there had been renewed focus on the nations of Lodis or New Xenobia and what their stakes were when it came to meddling with Valerian affairs.

Given that the game came out back in 1995, though, it’s understandable for why the developers decided to go down the route they chose. Despite the questionable choice of ending boss battle, the game still holds up even today. I would have liked some additional context with the other Ogre Battles and the history of the world I found myself in (this entry being the seventh episode) but I was still able to follow along in terms of the general motivations of the core characters as well as the villains.

This was especially astounding when it came to the choices that Denam had to choose in key beats of the plot. The variations of choice, even dialogue options, had ramification for the ending. Not to mention the Chaos Frame mechanic that was hidden behind it all and could have led to other distasteful outcomes for our main protagonist.

The gameplay for Tactics Ogre is very similar to Final Fantasy Tactics. It includes hiring or recruiting generic fighters to the cause and using them in battle. Of course, there are also unique characters with their own special sprites. But in terms of the actual flow of battle, the unique characters added little. Although, some had special classes that added a little flavour to battles. It should be noted that for every major battle, only Denam, had to feature in them all. The other playable characters could be interchanged with little repercussions. Or dismissed if the need arose.

Just like Final Fantasy Tactics, the game featured an overworld map and when a battle was entered, it would zoom onto a particular map with a grid overlay. Characters can move, use skills and perform one action. The action could range from using spells, items or actually attacking another character. The key to Tactics Ogre’s battle system is not unlike the weapon triangle of Fire Emblem. However, it is switched to six elements. Those being fire, water, lightning, earth, air and ice.

There is also an unspoken counter system with mages being better placed to counter buffed frontline attackers, mages being vulnerable to ranged attacks from archers, and units with higher defence taking minimal damage from ranged weaponry. Something I only gradually picked up on later as I favoured charging in and trying to destroy everything as quickly as possible.

Mana, like Triangle Strategy, is a limited but rechargeable pool that is empty at the start of battle. This differs from Final Fantasy Tactics, which allowed mages to immediately start raining hellfire onto their foes from the very beginning. It allowed for more tactical positioning as I awaited for enough mana to unleash what spells I had equipped my magic users. Mana was also important for non-magic users too as they were key to using finishing moves that could deal out a ton of damage.

As such, there was a good strong focus on buffing up the magic reserves for all characters. The only downside to this, of course, was how few and far between such mana replenishing items were as they did not appear to be sold at shops and had to be found as drops from enemies or occasionally scrounged up from certain tiles on battle maps.

One important thing I noted when playing Tactics Ogre Reborn was the fact that items, spells and skills were limited. One could not deck out their favourite warriors with 99x of all items. Rather, they could equip four of each. This meant that item usage, spells and skills had to be considered for each encounter. While this led to a few annoying battles where I struggled against certain units (of note, beasts), it did add another layer of strategic thinking to an otherwise excellent game known for the tactics needed.

Especially as there was a level cap for my characters!

I was utterly devastated to learn that I could not simply overlevel all my characters to decimate the opposition. Rather, my characters were all limited by the ‘Union Level.’ This allowed battles to be even-playing fields and I couldn’t take advantage of better stats to stack the battlefield. A shame, I know, but I made up for it by exploiting crafting and ensuring that my army was well-armed and well-equipped for each battle I went into. If I hadn’t used the exploit and had played it as it was intended, I would have, no doubt, struggled a little more with the game with fewer resources at my disposal and having to better pick and choose the units I took into each battle.

Of course, such things could be counteracted by picking up buff cards that could allow me to deal more damage than my unit might have usually been able to deal out against a particular enemy. It was especially useful against the final boss.

Overall, I enjoyed my time with Tactics Ogre Reborn. While I would have preferred being able to overlevel my units so I didn’t have to fear losing against difficult bosses, it allowed me to think differently on how I engaged with tactical role-playing games. There was even some joy in it when it came to repurposing my units and swapping out abilities and spells when required to deal with a particular annoying foe that favoured certain status effects such as petrification or fear.

Most of all, what I loved most of Tactics Ogre Reborn was the world-building and the hidden layers within. Perhaps one of these days, I could find a way to play the other Ogre Battle games but for now, I am still quite satisfied with the complex world that was crafted to explore what it means to rebel against oppression and to dream of a fairer and better world.

Backlog Catch-Up

On July 5, 2023June 2, 2023 By kyndarisLeave a comment

With all the new releases coming out in 2023, I am reminded once again of the limited time I have as someone that must work for a living. Coupled with the fact that I’m out socialising more and exploring the world when I use my leave, what little free time I have must be used in the most efficient way possible spread out thinly across video games, writing, reading and keeping up with shows and movies.

As of the writing of this post, I’m in the fourth chapter of Tactics Ogre Reborn, mopping up most of the side quests and unlocking new characters and classes before the final battle. But the temptation is there to put Tactics Ogre Reborn down and play through The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom instead since it’s new and shiny and everyone who is anyone is hyped for the new Zelda entry.

I even saw someone play on the commute to work!

While that something most gamers will do, hopping from one game to another, I’ve always found that the best way for me to tackle the glut of video games that catch my eye is to finish them off one by one before moving on. Otherwise, I’d have far too many incomplete games and not enough storage space on my consoles for anything more. A terrible dilemma given the size of games nowadays.

At least, that’s what I tell myself as everyone else is raving about the latest games that they’ve got their hands on.

Of course, even if I were to finish the game I was currently playing at the time, it doesn’t always mean I’ll play the latest and greatest title. The game I start could be part of my backlog or a fairly new and flashy game. And though it shouldn’t matter if that title is the one in the current zeitgeist or if it was something that came out years ago, I know in my heart of hearts, I should only be playing what’s new. If only to keep up with the discourse.

Still, the FOMO that I feel is a reminder that I can still engage in the content, though I may not have the entire experience. After all, I’m not one that shies away from a few spoilers. In fact, I relish them.

But I’ve found that when it comes to my gaming habits, and even on dates when I chat to others, it’s always been a struggle for me to be open about my favourite games. While some hyperfixate on a title, I tend to enjoy the stories for what they are without diving too deep. Some of that could be from the fact that I’ve managed to glean all that I can from unofficial wikis. Other times, I’ve simply not felt the need to obsess over every small detail in the game.

Still, I have to wonder if some of that comes from my childhood. Growing up, there weren’t many people around me that played video games. Even if they did, they were older than me and didn’t want to entertain the curious preteen. In high school, there was still the perception that games were played by boys and what was a nice girl like me doing spending so much time in front of the computer screen?

Even now, I don’t talk about games with my work friends or those that don’t really play anything more than cosy games like Animal Crossing. Sure, I now know of people that play the big releases and that’s something we can talk about briefly but those titles serve as conversation starters. Water cooler conversations, if you will, because neither of us know how far the other has gotten and don’t want to ruin the experience.

If I wanted a hot take about a game, I turn to the internet. One glance at YouTube and you can see why. I couldn’t tell you the number of videos I’ve seen reviewing game titles, assessing games and what they bring to each individual or just having an opinion about something controversial. You name, there’s a podcast. And if you engage with those creators, form a parasocial relationship, you’ve essentially found ‘your people.’

So, maybe it’s fine for me to take my time instead of racing through. Even though popular discourse seems to favour remaining relevant when posting reviews or impressions on the internet. Something that I’ve done with my games.

The same, however, cannot be said of books. Perhaps because I’m not on BookTok or on BookTube. Even if I were, there’s no real rush to be on top of the latest releases unless it’s YA. And given my favourite genre and my minimum page count being 500 pages or more, I’ve never felt compelled to quickly finish a book just to get to a new one. In fact, the more time I can spend with a book, the better. The atmosphere, the worldbuilding, the characters…these are all important aspects to me and there have been times when a book reaches the end that I wish the author had simply written more about their characters.

I very much like exploring someone else’s head and seeing their interactions in the quiet moments.

That’s probably why I insert so much of it in my own writing. I like to get to know a person inside and out.

Beyond the occasional YA novels, though, you won’t find whole wikis filled with the history of characters or their backstory. Books are a completely different medium and their fans interact differently with the source material. While yes, you will get the occasional fan art, it’s only recently that I’ve seen Rhysand and Feyre fan art being sold at conventions. I might have shuddered, but given that there’s no movie or TV show of Sarah J Maas’s work, it’s very impressive that there is actual fan art that exists for a wholly book series.

Books, more than games, have always been something I’ve been passionate about. And while there are books that I will put down something else to read if the chance arose, I don’t feel the immediate FOMO that one might have if a new game comes out. Yes, there’s hype but I never feel like I’m missing out on the conversation.

Maybe, of course, there’s the fact that reading is a much more passive experience than gaming. True, tehre are people out there that will immediately buy a book as soon as it releases and finish it within a day but even with BookTok and BookTube becoming increasingly prevalent, public discourse doesn’t have such a huge emphasis on new book releases. At least, not on the scale of video games or films/ TV shows. For example, Sarah J Maas became increasingly popular with the advent of TikTok but back when I was still reading the first few books of the Throne of Glass series back in 2015, there was no-one I knew within my immediate circle that had read the books.It’s only been in recent years that I’ve seen people fall in love with the world of A Court of Thorns and Roses and jump on the fae bandwagon.

And don’t get me started on Robin Hobb!

Too bad, of course, that no-one has truly been trying to promote the intricate worlds of M.A. Carrick in the Rook and the Rose series. Or have started reading the Black Magician trilogy by Australian author, Trudi Canavan. Honestly, those worlds have been some of the BEST I’ve ventured into.

Then again, much like games, I don’t talk about books very much to my friends. Mostly because it’s hard to find someone that has read the same type of genre that I do. Even if we DO read the same genre, we may not have read the same books. Have you SEEN how many books are churned out each year? Something, of course, I want for myself but I’m sure if I am ever published, I’ll just be one of the dime a dozen authors that disappear once more into the woodwork. It takes talent and grit and a fair bit of luck to become the next Sanderson or Rowling or Martin.

Still, now that I’ve joined a book club at work, I’ve been able to talk about books freely with people that have, at the very least, read the same book that I have for the month. No longer do I have to spy on people on the train and muster up the courage to chat to them about the latest Stormlight Archive book that they’re reading (which I’ve finished) and nerd out over Kaladin and lashings and the Cosmere.

And while the genres may not always be the ones that I enjoy the most, I do like discussing the book of the month with those in the office. There’s something special about going into deep dives about the book we’ve all just read as we go on about themes or elements that particularly stood out.

Even if I secretly hope to steer them towards the more magical side of fantasy given enough time.

But that’s a thought! We have book clubs. Why not game clubs? I know that video games are social mediums by their very nature, but I’d like a proper sit-down and in-depth chat about a game’s story with my fellow gamers as we talk about things that we liked or didn’t like, the mechanics that worked and didn’t work and how the ambiance fed into the game world to make it the unique experience it was for each person.

I don’t want someone to talk at me about a game. I get enough of that on the internet as people try to extol the virtues of whichever game has become their whole personality, nor do I want to have to sit through a one-sided discussion during a date. Given that games are a valid medium of art, we can start treating them as such.

But maybe instead of viewing games and books and whatever else that’s inbetween, I should simply just enjoy what I have for the time being and worry less about trying to keep up with whatever is popular. I’m not, after all, a gaming journalist. There’s no money to be made in my blogs. I write about what I like, I read what I like, and I play whatever takes my fancy. Games come and go. And since I’ve purchased them and they’re sitting pretty on my shelf, it’s all just now a simple matter of picking them up, dusting them off and slipping the disc into the console.

Speaking of which, I need to ALSO finish of Legend of Heroes: Trails in the Sky SC and the third title before tackling the Crossbell arc of games. Eugh!

So much to do, so little time!

Scorned

On June 26, 2023June 27, 2023 By kyndarisLeave a comment

As always, I’ve uploaded this story to my FictionPress and Wattpad already. But I thought I’d let those that read my blog a chance to read it as well without having to click away. It is, after all, a short story. For my longer novel-length stories, head over to https://www.fictionpress.com/u/577676/scattered-wind or https://www.wattpad.com/user/Kyndaris if you like to use Wattpad instead.

Stepping into the chapel, it was like we had entered a new world. The pews had been decorated with garlands. Similarly, the pulpit, where the minister would shortly stand, was flanked by two heaving bouquets of sickly-sweet flowers. Looking up, one could glimpse strings of fairy lights that had been strung up on the Gothic arches.

And gathered together for this most auspicious occasion were those nearest and dearest to the bride and groom.

It was to be the perfect wedding.

It should have been the perfect wedding.

But just as the ceremony was in full swing, right before the bride and groom were to kiss, a bedraggled woman in a tattered white dress – held back by two security guards – pushed her way through the doors of the chapel. Her black hair hung lankly and her lips were chapped. There was a wild look in her eyes as she struggled forward, mascara running down her face.

“I object!” she spat. “This farce has gone on long enough.”

The entire chapel went silent, as if we had all decided to hold our breath as we watched the events unfold.

“Has she told you the truth, Arthur? The real reason behind it all? Has she even told you her real name?”

All eyes turned towards the groom – Arthur – as he dropped the hands of his bride-to-be and stepped forward, face red, looking as if all he wanted to do was rip the woman in half with his bare hands.

I could see the thoughts churn in his head. How dare this stranger come in, wearing white no less, and object? On what grounds? And on this most happy and momentous day? The sheer nerve!

But the words she spoke, they tickled something in the back of my mind. What did she mean?

Thinking back, I knew that the union between Melissa and Arthur had been contentious. The reason why had always been subject to rumour but I’d not paid it much mind at the time. I was simply happy that Arthur had found someone after the disastrous breakup with Caitlin all those years ago.

Besides, I was just a family friend. My invitation to the wedding was almost an afterthought.

I glanced towards the bride, hoping for further enlightenment. Melissa’s face was as pale as death. It was almost as if she had seen a ghost. And it clashed horribly with her wedding dress with its long train and veil that stood in contrast to her dark coloured hair.

“You have no right to be here! No right to even object!” roared Arthur, taking my attention back to the unfolding drama between the mysterious woman and the groom. Arthur turned to his brother, one finger pointed out in a silent decree. “Get her out of here, Harold! Never let this piece of filth darken our doorstep ever again! I don’t want to see her ever again.”

Harold glanced between the woman and his younger brother. After a moment’s hesitation, Harold took hold of the woman’s arm, none too gently. Then he, along with the two security guards, frogmarched her out the exit.

I watched her go, wondering at her words and Arthur’s visceral reaction. There was more to the story here. I could feel it. But it wasn’t my place to ask anything. Not yet, anyways, with the ceremony still underway. It simply wouldn’t be polite. And I had been raised better than that.

It took several minutes for the guests to quiet. Many were trying to figure out who the mysterious woman was as they whispered to those beside them. Nothing of this scale had ever happened before at anyone else’s wedding.

Arthur, still fuming, struggled to hold back his anger if his clenched jaw and white knuckled fists were any indication. No doubt he would have roared at us to shut up if he could. Thankfully, Harold returned shortly afterwards and whispered something into the minister’s ear.

As he reread the sermon before the exchange of vows again, everyone settled back into their seats. Melissa and Arthur resumed their place before him.

Despite the fact that seems should have returned to normal, Melissa still seemed visibly shaken from the encounter. Her eyes would constantly dart towards the doors of the church. As if she was expecting a reappearance of the mad woman.

Was it worry? Or was it fear?

I was pulled from my thoughts when the rest of the guests clapped their hands as Melissa and Arthur pressed their lips together in what could have been described as the most perfunctory and wooden performance I had ever seen in my twenty-five years of life. It was worse than the travesty that was the kiss between Cho Chang and Harry Potter in the film version of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Melissa was the first to break away from the kiss as she turned towards the audience.

Together, they sat back down to the side as the minister stepped forward to lead everyone through a round of hymns.

As we sang, I noticed from the corner of my eye how Melissa leaned in close to Arthur as she whispered into his ear. The tension returned in his jaw but he maintained a façade of calm as he squeezed her fingers. He muttered something back in reply to Melissa.

Her face blanched but she said nothing more. Focused, instead, on mouthing the words that she probably didn’t feel. How interesting.

And just like that, the wedding ceremony ended.

Soon, there would be a series of photographs and a reception to be held at a fancy hotel later in the evening. Tedious affairs, to be sure, but that was what weddings had become in this modern age. They were meant to be spectacles of the internet age. I’d seen so many of my friends dressed in their white flowing dresses in as many different settings as there were stars in the night sky.

Melissa and Arthur’s wedding was the fifth I’d attended this year.

Rising from my seat, I headed to the bathroom to freshen up. It would be some time before I’d be called up for a group photo with the rest of my family.

The bathroom was empty as I entered the stall. But as soon as I shut the door, I heard two women come in. They were talking in hushed voices.

“—so distasteful.”

“I know, right? Melissa, though, was very good at keeping it together. I don’t think I could have been so calm if someone were to barge in on my wedding, wearing that poor excuse of a dress.”

“Did you see the look on Arthur’s face? I thought he was going to explode.”

“Would have served her right. I think I would have cheered.”

“Myrtle, no! Don’t you know who she is?”

“A crazed lady, by all accounts.”

“That was Caitlin’s younger sister, Larissa!”

That was when I chose to make my presence known as I made a show of flushing the toilet and stepped out of the stall. I flashed Myrtle and Norma a polite smile as I went to the furthest sink to wash my hands.

“Are the two of you looking forward to the reception?” I asked, pretending as if I hadn’t heard a word that they had exchanged earlier. “I remember that they said it was going to be at the Intercontinental. Think they’ll be lobster?”

With a knowing look, Myrtle winked at me. “Oh, my dear, of course there will be. Arthur’s parents wouldn’t have allowed the wedding to go ahead if it wasn’t on the menu.”

“Indeed,” agreed Norma. “We shall see you outside, yes, Vicky?”

I nodded, keeping my polite smile plastered on my face. “Yes. I’ll see the two of you outside.”

The two of them left and I was left alone to reapply my mascara and touching up my lipstick. When I had finished, I ran a critical eye over my reflection. I had an oval face with high cheekbones. It was pretty but I would have preferred a more defined jawline.

Fanfiction authors that were just starting out in their craft might have described my eyes as dark chocolate gooey orbs, but that would be stretching it a bit far. And a little mortifying to imagine. No, my eyes were brown though they were darker than most. The smoky eyeshadow I had on served to heighten the sense of mystique I had going.

My lips were thin. Paired with my eyebrows, I looked severe. Years of practice in high school had taught me how to soften my look so I could look more naturally friendly. I tried it now, contorting the muscles in my face and going for a concerned expression. It worked though it was a little stiff. I’d have to keep working on it. Especially if I was hoping to use it later in the evening.

Satisfied that my makeup was in order and there was no blemish that needed to be hastily covered up, I exited the toilet. Just in time for the set of photos that my family would be taking with the bride and groom.

By the time the group photographs were done, my cheeks were sore from smiling and my feet from standing. All I wanted to do was head back to my apartment, down a few glasses of shiraz and perhaps call it a night. But, of course, when it came to weddings, there was still the reception and the dancing and the celebrating to get through.

After all, they were meant to be bombastic and loud.

Proof, of course, that we had succeeded in life and would finally live out our ‘happily-ever-afters’. After all, wasn’t that the dream that we were sold in our younger years? Find the one your one true love and everything else will work out? At least, I think that was the message inherent in all Disney films during their renaissance period.

While the others were bidding Arthur and Melissa a prosperous marriage, I took a seat on a nearby bench and slipped off my high heels to give my feet a chance to breathe. Moments later, Harold plopped down beside me, his tie askew. He looked me up and down with an appreciative eye.

“Long day, Vicky?”

“Well, you know me, Harry. I’m always out dancing late into the early hours of the morning.”

He laughed. “Oh yeah? Where’d you go this time?”

“Oh, here and there. Real small clubs. Places you wouldn’t have heard of.”

“Try me.”

“The Yarn and Hook,” I answered. “Where the Crawdads Sing.”

“So, crocheting and reading. That’s so typical of you, Vicky.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “So you say, Harry. But I’m not the one stalking someone else’s Goodreads.”

Harry and I had been close ever since we were young. Or, well, as close as family friends could be. It was hard when you didn’t attend the same high school and studied different things at university. Social media helped, but when we both became gainfully employed members of society, time seemed to slip away as a general sense of busyness pervaded our everyday.

Him with his finance firm. Me and my journalism.

“Touché,” acceded Harry. He leaned back against the bench. “God, I could go for a drink.”

I couldn’t resist the rejoinder that sprung to my lips. “Long day, Harold?”

He glared at me, knowing that I knew how much he hated his full name. “Why yes, Victoria,” he replied snidely. “I mean, being treated like a servant by your older brother is great fun. Especially when you have to deal with his ex’s crazy sister. And all she’s doing is screeching in your ear. Like, how my escorting her out of the chapel constituted as assault. Or that she’ll press charges.”

“I heard people talking in the bathroom earlier,” I said. “So, that was Larissa? She doesn’t look a lot like Caitlin at all.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. They are half-sisters, after all. You were seeing her at her worst.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, scooting closer toward Harry.

He looked away. “Forget I said anything. It’s not important.”

“You can’t just offer a journalist the hint of something deeper and then end it at that,” I said. “Come on, Harry. You can trust me. I’m not on the clock. Anything you reveal will be completely off the record.”

Harry sat back up and it was like the jovial playful air that we had enjoyed before had vanished. He stared at me for several uncomfortable seconds. “This isn’t like your usual interviews, Victoria. Larissa is dangerous. If you see her, stay away. I’ve a feeling she might try to sabotage the reception. God only knows how she’ll figure out the location,” he said and rose to his feet.

I watched as Harry left. This had been my one chance at getting more information and I’d bungled it terribly. And I’d probably only served to pour oil on what was already a tenuous position at best. Instead of pressing him for answers, perhaps if I’d more sympathetic…

Something to study up on, I supposed, as I stood up and straightened my dress.

Still, I wasn’t leaving empty-handed. Harry had confirmed what I had overheard in the bathroom and had provided an additional titbit of information that I hadn’t had before. And, as every journalist worth their salt knew, every little morsel helped.

As I headed towards the metro station, I pulled out my phone and messaged someone I hadn’t talked to for a good four years. Ever since Arthur had broken her heart four years ago.

Stepping into the lobby of the Intercontinental was like being whisked off into a fairy tale forest. Arthur and Melissa had spared no expense when it came to the decadent decorations. Huge oaks spiralled up towards the roof, their branches stretching across the ceiling to crown the set of beautiful constellations in the night sky. Half hidden by the canopy was a crescent-shaped moon.

It was beautiful and impressive. And, if I didn’t know any better, I might have bought into the fantasy The only thing missing were the actual creatures that lived in such places and sprightly fae.

As it was, my sheer baby blue dress paired with holographic butterfly wings, which I had bought at a Halloween store, served to match the theme for the wedding reception.

“Excuse me, are you a guest for Arthur and Melissa’s reception?”

The question pulled me back down to cold hard reality. My eyes travelled down from the stars back to the smartly dressed concierge with a forced smile on her face. She was standing next to a simple A3 sized welcome sign embossed with gold.

On it was written: Welcome. We are so glad to have you join us. In smaller script, it read: Follow the petals to the reception hall. Love Arthur and Mel.

“Yes.”

“Do you have your invitation and a form of photo ID?”

“Of course,” I replied, digging in my purse for them both. “I assure you that I did pack them in. Ah, here it is.”

The invitation was lined in silver, the outside edge decorated with intricate floral designs and silhouettes of fairies. In the lower right corner was an artistic rendition of the loving couple, both adorned with huge feathery wings. It was something Melissa had insisted upon and was based on her favourite book series.

The concierge gave it a cursory glance. “And your ID, please?”

“Oh, right.” Opening up my phone, I showed her my digital licence.

“Your mask, ma’am.”

Sheepishly, I removed the gold masquerade mask from my face. The concierge, taking my phone, scrutinised my licence and then looked back at my face. Satisfied, she handed me back my phone. “Follow me. I’ll take you to the reception hall.”

“Don’t I just—” I started, putting my mask back on, and gesturing to the path of petals that led down the corridor to the left.

“That may be so, ma’am, but the groom insisted that all guests be accompanied once their identity has been verified. Please. Follow me.”

Her tone brooking no argument, she turned on her heel and led me down a side passageway opposite to the petals path. After trailing after her through a labyrinthine maze, she stopped outside mahogany panelled function doors. Pushing them open, I stepped down into a ballroom ripped straight out from a fantasy world.

A short marble staircase led down to the dance floor and a ring of tables. A three-tiered cake sat near the long table where the bride and groom would preside over events. Most of the other guests had yet to arrive but that did not stop those that had come early to enjoy a glass of bubbly and a few canapes.

All eyes turned to me as the concierge announced my presence.

Quite a few men looked at me appreciatively but most returned to their conversations. As I walked down the stairs, I scanned the crowd for any familiar faces. Only Harold stood out but he’d barely noticed my presence, wrapped up in a heated discussion with someone I couldn’t quite make out.

A part of me wanted to go back up to him and apologise for what had happened earlier in the day but just as I reached the dance floor, I was accosted by none other than Norma.

She, just like me, had changed outfits. When I had seen her earlier, she had been wearing a simple floral dress with a pastel pink jacket on top. Now, she had changed into a navy asymmetrical cocktail dress. Around her shoulders, she wore an effervescent shawl. Atop her head, she had on a tiny crown.

“I had not expected to see you so early, Vicky. And my, what a lovely outfit you have on. Very chic, as my niece would say.”

“Thank you,” I said. “You also look very delicious tonight, Norma.”

“Oh, nonsense. This was just something I threw on.”

“Well then, you have impeccable taste.”

Norma tittered politely before leaning in closer. “You know, they say that Arthur’s hired additional security for the reception. You should have seen how that concierge lady was staring me down earlier. I thought she wanted to rip my dress of. But no, rumour has it that Arthur wants to make sure everything goes off without a hitch after that frightful display this morning with Larissa.”

“Who?”

“Larissa. Didn’t you know? She’s Caitlin’s sister. And bad, bad news.”

“Wait, that woman who interrupted the ceremony was Caitlin’s sister?” I asked, pretending to ask surprised. “I didn’t know that.”

“Oh yes,” said Norma. “It’s a little-known secret. Rumour has it that Larissa had been obsessed with Arthur from the first. When he was still dating Caitlin. She’d always try and insert herself into situations. Made their entire relationship incredibly difficult. No wonder Arthur stepped away, poor boy.”

“What about the sisters?”

“What about them?”

“Was there any fallout when Arthur broke up with Caitlin? I’m sure if I had a sister that kept trying to force herself into my relationship with a significant other, I’d be livid.”

“You know, Vicky, I never did think to look at it from Caitlin’s perspective,” said Norma. “Most of us ARE friends of Arthur’s parents. And when he broke up with Caitlin, that was the end of it all. Sweet girl, that she is, it wasn’t MY place to prod my nose into her affairs. Why, that would make you a busybody gossip, after all.” She tittered nervously again.

The conversation shifted then into safer waters and after a few minutes more, Norma excused herself and I was once more alone at the reception with almost no-one to talk to. Which I didn’t mind. Arthur had only invited me out of obligation. And with my parents still overseas, I was the sole representative of the family.

If I hadn’t been close to Harold back in our younger years, I couldn’t help but think that I wouldn’t have received an invitation at all.

It was a shame that our fight this morning had soured a little of our relationship.

Still, I was here to celebrate the coming together of Arthur and Melissa, drown myself in red wine and enjoy the highest quality food there was. So, it didn’t matter that Harold and I weren’t quite on talking terms right now. It would fix itself in time.

At least that’s what I told myself as I located my name on Table 13

While there were a few names I recognised, most of the other guests I would be sitting with were unknowns. But that too was okay. This wasn’t my night, anyways. I was just an extra to the grand event. A prop to be used in the photos to show off what a special day it all was.

“How very interesting. You have an undefined aura around you,” said a voice from behind me. “The colours, though vibrant, struggle underneath a pall.”

I jumped, whirling around to face a…little girl about eleven or twelve years of age. She had on a midnight blue gown that barely touched her knees and wore a black velvet butterfly mask to cover her face.

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s okay. Most don’t,” said the girl. “Still, this is a very interesting phenomenon. The only other times I’ve seen something like this happen is when people are lying. Or they’re scared.”

A cold sliver of fear slid down my spine. Had my ruse been discovered? No. The girl was guessing at best, trying to find a weak spot. I forced a smile to my face. “Where are your parents, um…sorry, I didn’t quite get your name?”

“Lilibeth. Lily for short. And my parents are over there,” she pointed to table number 4, “catching up with the Rodrigues. But I got distracted so I didn’t go over.”

“An interesting field of study. Was it something you picked up from reading or…?”

Lilibeth shook her head. “No. I’ve been able to see auras for as long as I can remember. Although, I suppose it was only quite recently that I discovered what exactly it was that I was seeing.”

“And do you see ghosts too?” I asked, a teasing note in my voice.

“While they do exist, I’ve yet to be able to detect—oh! You’re just joking. Right. That’s something people do as well. Or was that your way of saying you find me annoying? I’m not very good with social cues and it was only when Mrs Yu told me directly that I realised she didn’t much like it when I tried to read her aura earlier.”

“Must be hard,” I said.

“Exhausting.”

“Were you at the wedding, Lily? I don’t think I noticed you.”

“I was. But the energy inside that chapel was ugly. Melissa’s aura was very muted and Arthur’s was a spectrum of red. Especially when that woman showed up.”

“And—” Before I could finish my question, there was the tinkling of cutlery on wine glasses and all heads swivelled to the entrance of the ballroom.

Standing at the top, a huge smile on his face was Harold. He put aside his empty wine glass and knife, and accepted the microphone that was handed to him.

“Welcome one and welcome all!”

A thunderous cheer greeted his words. Harold waited for the din to die down before he continued.

“Though the day hasn’t been without its ups and downs, it’s still been a most auspicious day for my older brother, Arthur, and his wife: Melissa. After all, the two got married down at the St Thomas Cathedral! And for those that attended, I’m sure you would agree that it was one of the most magical moments possible.

“Within a few moments, my brother and his wife will be coming in. I’d like it if we could all put our hands together as soon as they enter. Ready?”

And just like that, as if on cue, the doors leading into the ballroom opened. I watched as Arthur, dressed in a satiny black tuxedo with great bat-like wings strapped to his back came through. Melissa was at his side dressed like a fairy queen, a tiara resting on top of her overly sprayed hair, and staring adoringly up at her husband.

Knowing the truth of the matter, it was all kinds of sickening.

I grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and took a sip, turning away from the sight.

“Oh, I see some red peeking through,” said Lily, looking up at a space three inches above my head. “You must be feeling angry. Is it because you might also have liked Uncle Arthur in the past?”

“What?” I sputtered, almost spitting out my drink. “Where would you get that idea?”

“It’s just that Uncle Arthur has had to contend with a lot of women in the past. There was Aunty Caitlin and then Aunty Larissa and—”

“No. Ew. Stop.” The look of horror on my face would have served to stop any more curious forays into my love life, but Lilibeth persisted, although in a different vein.

“Oh, then is it because of Uncle Harold? You know, he’s been single for a very long time. And I did hear that—”

“We are not having this conversation,” I interrupted, cheeks flushed. I drained the rest of my glass and put it on the table.

“Did I say something to offend you? Your aura has changed to an angry orange, as if you’re annoyed. Oh, actually, there’s something else there too. Embarrassment?”

It was the tipping point. The exposure of my feelings wasn’t something I wanted some prepubescent child to announce to the whole world. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“My parents say that’s not a nice word.”

“Which one? No, shit or Sherlock?” I retorted without thinking.

Lily finally looked me in the eye. Her tiny face was like a porcelain mask but I could see her bottom lip quiver and the first signs of tears. “I’m sorry if I said something wrong. It wasn’t my intention to hurt or wound.”

Oh God, that look…

Some of my anger bled away at the look. So, taking a deep breath, I crouched down next to Lily so that we were at the same level. “Look, Lily, I know that you’re struggling to understand and control your super powers but I can tell you that asking someone if they’re annoyed when they are isn’t very conducive to the situation. When people are ‘emotionally charged,’ sometimes the best way is to take a step back and give them some space. Do you get what I’m saying?”

She scrunched up her face before finally nodding. “I think I do. And even though I can see that you’re not very happy with me at this moment, you’re also trying your very best to deal with me very civilly. My mum isn’t always like that. She usually just gets really mad and shouts at me. So, thank you for being patient with me. I’ll go join them over with the Rodrigues family for now.”

“You do that,” I said. “It’ll be much safer that way.”

Lily stared at me for a moment too long as she parsed my words, head cocked to one side. “You’re planning something. And it has something to do with Uncle Arthur and Aunty Melissa.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact. How could such a young girl be so perceptive?

I opened my mouth, mind racing at a million miles per second as I racked it for a possible response. As the silence lengthened and no words came to my lips, I closed it. What would have been the point of further obfuscation? The girl could read bloody auras.

For all I knew, she might have already hazarded a guess at the truth. If only I had met her earlier, we might have been allies.

But, when it came do it, it didn’t change any of my immediate plans.

So, rather than confirm or deny her suspicions, I simply ushered Lilibeth back to her parents. Left with my thoughts, I grabbed another champagne flute from a passing waiter as the guests slowly found their tables and the party got under way.

The night proceeded without much incident. As for the speeches, they had little in terms of surprises. They were almost stale in how they followed the rote formula of every wedding speech ever. There were childhood stories, amusing anecdotes of Arthur’s life and of the budding love that had grown between him and Melissa.

As for Melissa’s family and friends, they spoke of the wonderful and caring soul that she was. At their words of praise, she had flushed prettily, burying her face in the crook of her now husband’s arm.

Were it not for the sporadic deliveries of entrée and main course, I would have found the whole entire pageantry a bore. That was, of course, until Harold took once more to the stage right before dessert, accompanied by Melissa’s maid of honour.

I’d seen Linda at the wedding. She was, apparently, one of Melissa’s best friends from high school. She had a pert upturned nose and blonde tresses that would have flowed down to about mid-back if she hadn’t pinned it up. Dressed in a lilac dress that was a little too tight around her waist, I eyed the woman as my brain registered that something was just a little off.

Was it me or was the grin on Harold’s face just a little too forced? And did Linda look a little more frazzled than when she had appeared at the wedding, boogeying down the aisle with the other bridesmaids?

“Now, this is where it all starts getting mushy, folks! We’ve had the ice breaker. We’ve had the shoe game. And we’ve had the inspiring speeches from family and friends alike. Now—”

Before Harold could finish, the doors to the ballroom crashed open. In stepped a woman dressed all in black, from her butterfly mask to the torn and tattered wedding dress. Affixed to her back were two great batlike wings, not unlike those that Arthur had taken off to sit down at the table.

Gasps sounded all around.

Arthur stiffened for a moment before he rose to his feet, cheeks suffused with red as he pointed one shaky finger in the woman’s direction.

“Get her out of here!” he all but roared.

Harold and two security guards jumped to obey the order.

But the woman, presumably Larissa, was too quick, dodging away when they tried to grab her. She quickly came down the stairs and ducked behind the other guests. Many were too stunned to try and stop her, exclaiming only in alarm when one of the security guards lunged forward and missed, nearly toppling an entire table over.

The farce went on for a few minutes until Arthur removed his suit jacket, ignoring Melissa’s plea to think rationally, and rolled up his sleeves. It seemed that he had learned the hard way that if you wanted to do something right, you had to do it yourself.

“Pathetic,” he said to Harold as he walked past.

A look flitted over Harold’s face. One that screamed anger and disbelief. He took one step forward before turning around to return to his chair, removing the bow tie around his neck and throwing it on the ground.

Seeing Arthur approach, the woman came to a stop right next to the towering five-layer wedding cake. There was a smirk on her face, though she was still breathing hard. She pushed back her hair, not as lanky as they were this morning.

“You’ve had your fun,” growled Arthur. “Leave before things get ugly.”

“I don’t think so,” retorted the woman, sounding exactly as she had at the ceremony. Larissa. It had to be. “I think I want to disrupt events a little further. Push my luck.” She reached out towards the cake.

“Don’t you dare!”

“And why shouldn’t I, Arthur? Why should I allow this to happen when it’s clear that you belong with me?”

“I’m not some trophy,” hissed Arthur. “Not an object that you can inscribe your name onto.”

The woman shook her head. Her hands gripped tight on the table that held the wedding cake. “No. No. No. She’s poisoned you against me. Do you even know who she really is?”

“She’s Melissa. The love of my life. The future mother to my children.”

“Wrong, wrong, wrong! She’s a fraud and a thief. And her name is Larissa. My sister.” With that declaration, the woman removed her black butterfly mask to unveil the face of one Caitlin Bai.

As one, the entire room gasped before lapsing into shocked silence. People exchanged looks with each other. But I couldn’t help but turn my attention to Melissa. She was still seated at the head table, her face as white as death and her eyes so huge and dilated that they could have swallowed the sun.

Arthur glanced back at his wife and then at Caitlin, dressed all in black. Doubt seemed to have caught him in its paralysing grip.

“See. You know I speak truth, Arthur. You’ve known it all along. I can see it on your face. We were together so long, Arthur, I can read you like a book.”

Until the whispers began and his face once more turned red.

“Enough! I will hear no more of these lies!” he roared and lunged forward, anger and hatred in his eyes. What he intended to do with Caitlin was anyone’s guess.

And just like that, chaos ensued as the wedding cake tittered on the table before smashing into the ground as Caitlin darted past Arthur’s grasping hands. Guests screamed. Many rose to their feet, ready to flee.

I was on my feet, unsure where to go. Did I help Caitlin? Or ought I leave this shambolic wedding reception and go back home. After all, this wasn’t my fight. Arthur and Harold and Melissa have to deal with the aftermath. And yet I also found myself bound to remain. The juicy drama before me was only just unfolding. I could already see the headlines.

But before I could make a decision on what to do next, Melissa rose to her feet. She was tapping feverishly at a champagne flute with the butter knife. The ringing sound of crystal cut through the noise.

Everyone stopped. Even Arthur. All heads turned towards Melissa, or Larissa if Caitlin’s claims were to be believed, as they waited for her to speak. Caitlin paused, mid-way up the stairs to the ballroom, a bemused look on her face. Clearly, she hadn’t expected Melissa to take a stand.

“I-I don’t know who you think you are but you are not welcome here!” stuttered Melissa, placing the knife and flute down on the table. “T-this was supposed to be m-my big day and you’ve ruined it. I would like it if you could l-leave.”

A smirk made its way to Caitlin’s lips. “Really? After everything you’ve done, you think you get to have a nice fairytale ending? Well, newsflash: you don’t, Larissa! Stop trying to play the innocent here!”

Melissa shook her head. “I don’t understand. I don’t know who this Larissa is. Though it’s clear you’ve been hurt by her. But I also don’t know who you are either.”

“Playing dumb won’t help you!” screamed Caitlin. Fire flashed in her eyes. “Just give it up! Tell the people the truth!”

“I’m sorry. You have the wrong person,” said Melissa, gaining strength from Caitlin’s display. After all, this was her wedding reception. She was in the right. Not Caitlin. “Now, please leave. Before we ask security to escort you out and call the cops.”

“No! I refuse. Why should I acquiesce when you were the one that masqueraded as me to break up with Arthur? You were always jealous of me, Larissa. Of what I had with Arthur. And I know that you took the money father gave me and used it to become whatever this is. So, I won’t leave. Not until I am vindicated!”

A hush descended over the room. No-one knew what to do or what to think. Instead, we all waited with bated breath for Melissa’s return volley as if this were a game of tennis.

Were it me, I would have already called the police. Or had called in hotel security, which was conspicuously absent except for the two muscleheads that were flanking Arthur.

Seconds passed. The tension so thick that one could cut it with a knife.

But before I knew what exactly was happening, the silence was broken first by a snort. And then Melissa was grabbing her stomach, doubled over with laughter.

A few nervous giggles broke out across the other guests.

For the first time all night, a look of doubt flashed across Caitlin’s face. I could see the thoughts in her head churning. Had she been wrong from the start? Maybe she really had made it all up in her head. After all, it all sounded like the plot of some daytime soap opera or k-drama.

Wiping away a tear of mirth from her eye, Melissa straightened. A cruel grin had replaced the lost confused look she bore before. She nodded towards Arthur. And he, like a loyal soldier, commanded the two burly security guards with him and his brother to secure the exits to the ballroom.

Caitlin looked around, fear finally creeping across her face as she realised the trap that had been set with us guests serving as the set dressing. I had to give it to Melissa. She knew how to keep her plans close to the vest.

My gaze wandered over to Norma and Myrtle huddled near the orchestra, darting to Lilibeth still seated primly at her table and cutting into the roast beef, before finally settling on Harold. There was a grim set to his jaw. One that told me he disapproved of the plan.

He always was a bleeding heart. It would hurt all the more to learn the truth as the reception reached its climax.

I didn’t want to do it but there was no going back now. No reversing the hands of time to when we were just innocents running around a garden like fools in love.

“Oh sister, your desperation is delicious,” said Melissa. “And oh, so predictable.”

“Fuck you, Larissa!”

“You know, it’s funny,” said Melissa. “Does it feel strange to keep saying your own name?”

Wait, what? Did that mean…

I looked from Caitlin to Melissa, trying to wrap my head around the implication behind Melissa’s words. If Caitlin was Larissa, then that meant…

A low murmur passed through the room as they, too, tried to process the revelation. From the corner of my eye, I saw Myrtle turn to Norma, mouth hanging wide open. But it was Harold’s reaction – my poor dear Harry – that revealed that even he had been blindsided. His face was as pale as a sheet of paper as he looked to his brother and then back to Melissa.

“Arthur, why didn’t—”

“Because I asked him not to,” replied Melissa as she turned to her brother-in-law. And though I knew in my head, this was supposed to be Caitlin, I couldn’t quite accept it. Not yet anyways. “It wouldn’t have changed things between us. After all, Larissa was always one to chart her own path. It wasn’t your fault. Isn’t that right, sister?”

“No! No! No! I’m Caitlin.”

“So, you don’t remember the fight four years ago? Or the drugging and the surgery you did?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

Melissa took a step towards the woman that looked like Caitlin Bai. How the tables turned. Whereas before, Melissa had acted meek, it was now Caitlin, or Larissa, for that was her true name (I couldn’t keep up with all these reversals of who they really were), was the one that shied away from the blow.

“Larissa, you need to learn to let go,” said Melissa-Caitlin. “I have. Even though you left me with a wicked scar on the side of my face after the fight. Left me for dead in a back-alley in Thailand?”

Caitlin-Larissa tugged desperately at her long black hair. “This is a nightmare. A fucking nightmare. I was meant to be with Arthur, not you. You’re supposed to be dead! Dead! Dead!”

“But I’m not.”

“And I knew something was wrong the moment you tried to usurp Caitlin’s identity,” said Arthur, his eyes flashing dangerously. “That’s why I called it all off. Imagine my surprise, of course, when I came upon Melissa by chance when I was overseas.”

“I didn’t have my memories then,” said Melissa-Caitlin, her fingers finding Arthur’s, entwining together. “But the more time I spent with Arthur, the more I knew.”

“Lies. Lies. Lies,” chanted Caitlin-Larissa, shaking her head. “I’m Caitlin. You’re the impostor. Stop it, stop it, stop it!”

And then, Harold gently took hold of Caitlin-Larissa’s wrist. She looked up at him and suddenly it was as if all the fight deserted her. Caitlin-Larissa slumped into his hold, knowing that she had lost.

My heart went out for her. I knew the pain of unrequited love, had held it close to my chest for years, but to have gone this far? Even I don’t think I could have done something like that.

So, as the rest of the guests returned to their seats as Caitlin-Larissa was escorted out by the security guards and Melissa-Caitlin along with her husband, Arthur, returned to their seats, I reached for my phone. I scrolled through the contact list, to the number I had called earlier that day.

Caitlin-Larissa stopped, just before the threshold. Harold let her right hand go as she answered the call.

“Vicky,” I whispered, “thanks for doing this for me. I know it wasn’t easy. But now I know the truth.”

“You know I’d do anything for you. Are you sure you want to leave it like this?”

“It’s for the best.”

“So, how long do you think it’s going to take you to bail me out?”

“Judging from how this reception is going, I’d say two hours tops.”

“Looking forward to it, Cait.”

I ended the call and packed my phone away.

Despite everything, Larissa had done it. She had gotten away with it all. Her master plan had worked. But whereas anger might have consumed me four years back, I felt almost nothing now. Arthur and Larissa, or as Melissa as she was now known, deserved each other.

And I wished them all the happiness.

They were going to need it.

The Singles Mixer

On June 19, 2023July 11, 2023 By kyndarisLeave a comment

Over the last few weeks, after returning from my overseas trip, my dating life has all but dried up. Conversations grow stale on Hinge. After a few days, messages start to drop off as life gets busy. People tread and retread topics. And even my own enthusiasm at finding love withers and dies on the vine. It doesn’t matter that some of my friends, both at work and in my personal life, look upon what I’ve written on this blog and feel inspired to put themselves on the market. Unfortunately, there hasn’t been much chemistry between me and a stranger on the internet. No whirlwind romance.

So, in a fit of desperation, I signed myself up to a singles event to mingle and chat with complete strangers at a suburban club with stereotypical Aussie pub food disguised as Italian. Fun!

As soon as I did though, I began to despair that I’d signed myself up for yet another disappointing experience. The doubts returned. Will people judge me too harshly because I don’t put on make-up? Should I wear a dress?

Long story short, there was a lot of dread leading up to the event. In the end, I mustered as much courage as I could and went with a nice pair of black skinny jeans, a shirt and vest combo along with a blazer.

You may ask, dear reader, why I was so dressed up. Well, the answer is simple. It was bloody cold! A wintry polar chill was blowing through Sydney in early May. While I did not know where we would be sitting beforehand, it was lucky I dressed warmly for we were outside. Well, maybe not technically outside but it was in an area of the club that was open to the cold cutting wind.

Thankfully, I’m always prepared and I didn’t suffer too much. Else I might have walked away from the mixer with more than just disappointment.

As soon as I entered, I was caught off-guard by the large jump in age ranges for those in attendance, as well as the diversity of people that were there. So many came from various walks of life. As for me, I quickly found a spot at the kid’s table (which was essentially the 30-40 year olds) before I was joined by a man from Hong Kong.

Like I’ve told many a work colleague and friend, this man was…well…very loud. At least, that’s the best way to describe him in a single word. As soon as we met, he boasted that he had just turned 40 this year and wasn’t shy at admitting that he had been previously married and had two kids. These are important facts, by the by, as Hong Kong would repeat it numerous times throughout the night without much prompting.

The next person I met was from Jordan. Older than Hong Kong by a year, he too had previously been married but only had one child (a fact that Hong Kong was eager to say he beat Jordan in).

Fun fact, both Hong Kong and Jordan were civil engineers. Hong Kong was busy digging out tunnels for the West Connex while Jordan was responsible for constructing stadiums all across the world. These were facts that enticed the third man I met that day: Data.

And yes, I would have preferred referring to each other by ethnic background but Data never did mention it. He did, however, work in IT and it had taken some coaxing to get him to sit closer for a proper conversation. It was apparently Data’s first event of this kind with the dating agency. While it was technically my second (having previously attended a speed dating event prior to COVID), this had been my first real outing to try and mingle with people outside of my usual circle. So, I suppose in many ways, it was also my first.

We were later joined by a financial planner, lawyer, board game designer, two more individuals that dabbled in IT and a university student. Suddenly, there were three more women at the table, although we were still outnumbered by the men.

Ever so cautiously, we began to talk. Introductions were made when we told everyone our names, our profession, hobbies and a hidden talent/ something interesting that had happened recently. Of course, with the other tables also seating so many others, it was hard to hear everyone – especially when they were on the far end of the table opposite of where I sat. Occasionally, we were interrupted mid-introduction as the waiters came to take our drink and food orders.

Overall, I’d have to say that our conversations were quite tame. The only time it ever got remotely risque was when Hong Kong was regaling us with how the moments of his children’s birth had been the most joyous moment in his life although it had also been laborous day of worrying for his ex-partner. Oh, and that he would tell his ten-year-old daughter that she ought to have a natural birth. Something he repeated multiple times as if he knew exactly what it was to have a natural birth. Hong Kong, of course, was a man. That he had never carried a child to term or felt the most agonising pain that came with childbirth was something he glossed over. Natural birth was the way to go! He would have it no other way for every woman.

I, a woman, was quick to challenge his very set views. And while I wasn’t quite arguing that every woman should go Caesarian, I wanted to make clear that the miracle of birth was not something so easy as Hong Kong thought it was. Even the other women agreed that it should be personal choice or dependent upon the circumstances.

Hong Kong, it should be said, was very much a character. While I cannot say for certain how much was truth or slight exaggeration, he was also eager to tell us all that he had studied law and geology (or earth science as he described it). It was for this very reason, and because of how he was raised, that he was against food waste (which is admirable) and that, you know, he was the father of two children.

He ate most of my salad and a chip that fell onto the relatively messy table.

So, while I would have liked to learn more about Jordan or the other people at the table, most of my interactions were limited by the gregarious nature of Hong Kong.

I will, admit, however, that I did have an interesting conversation that was, unfortunately, cut short with the man that dabbled in game design. From his own admission, it seemed that he was also an introvert. One whose social battery ran out more quickly with strangers than it did with his friends. And while there have been many a discussion into this interesting phenomena for introverts, I tried to explain it from my own experience of hiding away aspects that I feel would never fit quite well in a particular context.

For example, when talking to many of my work colleagues, I won’t really talk about video games as none of them really dabble in the hobby. I mean, it might be nice to go off on a tangent about the ones I like or the ones I’ve been currently playing but I know that they aren’t interested. True, they know I play them but it’s easier for us to talk about things that we have in common like TV shows or bemoan the fact that we’re all corporate drones.

Similarly, among my friendship circle, I don’t have many that share my enthusiasm for books or musicals. Sure, they might come to watch Wicked because it tickles their fancy, but I’ve had to find other people to go see Moulin Rouge or Six or The Rocky Horror Show. Even when it comes to books, I struggle to find those that have also read a majority of the Brandon Sanderson books or are willing to give the Rook and the Rose series a try (honestly, everyone, please read it).

Maybe I could find a Discord group to chat with others but my fandom rarely runs so deep that I feel compelled to chat about one thing for the rest of time.

Hence, I suppose, my very broad knowledge of pop-culture. But if you told me that Spider-Man travelled to another dimension with Mary Jane, I’d stare at you agog.

There are plenty of things that I know of only tangentially. And that’s fine too. Gate-keeping, an experience I experienced back in high school when Starcraft II came out, only limits the exposure of a good thing to others. This is especially prevalent when it comes to certain games that are praised for their difficulty, but can be found elsewhere too.

Regardless, these ‘facets’ of myself that I use in my daily interactions with other people are tiring. That I have to muster up enthusiasm for a person/ people that I don’t know when I’d rather pull out a book or stay at home and play through video games can be draining. In comparison, if you are among friends that share similar interests, it is easier to match your energy with theirs, especially if they’re more laidback about it all and don’t expect a prim perfect version of yourself.

Suffice it to say, I went out to meet people. I chatted to a few interesting characters, some I wouldn’t mind chatting to again. And I arrived back home late enough to have missed King Charles’s coronation but was early enough to catch Camilla get crowned as Queen. And there we have it! The Singles Mixer when no-one individual was that excited to interact with me except eat my food.

But maybe I came off as too strong.

It doesn’t matter.

What does matter was putting myself out there and being open to new experiences. And that is always worth it.

I think.

Psychic Summer Internship

On June 12, 2023May 5, 2023 By kyndarisLeave a comment

Jumping from Forspoken to Psychonauts 2 felt like a huge change. While both explored mental health, Forspoken was primarily focused on depression and madness. Its world was not one of high contrast or vibrant wilderness. Rather, it was grounded in grim reality with a world that was falling apart at the seams. Throughout the time I spent in Athia, it was clear that the people in Cipal were holding on by just a thread. Psychonauts 2, on the other hand, was an entirely different beast. The entire game world thrummed with life; the colours popped and there was a general sense of busyness as one rolled around the Motherlobe. The world was fresh, zany and, for this humble blogger, quite a lot smaller than the monstrous map I spent more than 60 hours in.

Psychonauts 2 was released in 2021 as the sequel to one of Double Fine’s beloved games. Just like the other entries, players were put into the shoes of Raz Aquato, right after the events from the VR entry (which, in and of itself was a quick adventure that was only hours after the events of the first game). Having rescued the Grand Head: Truman Zanatto, Raz and the rest of the Psychonaut agents were trying to figure out why Dr Loboto had managed to capture the leader of the Psychonauts. And so, the game starts off in a mental construct of Dr Loboto’s mind: a dreary office that echoes the daily grind many face in their waking world.

After winning a paid vacation for being the best employee in this fictional office that was on par with the movie Inception in creating a familiar environment, Dr Loboto is tasked with finding his ‘boss’ to sign off on the trip. So begins the tutorial section of the game as Raz follows the mad scientist dentist.

Until it all goes horribly wrong and the office construct slowly breaks apart.

Though Raz and the Psychonauts are unable to discover who had employed Dr Loboto to kidnap Truman before they arrive at the Motherlobe, they press forward with the interrogation. Raz, himself, at only ten is inducted into the Psychonauts intern program. And is assigned to work under Nick from the Mailroom,

Ten! And already putting in the hard hours to spruce up his resume! Truly, Raz is the ideal candidate for any job. That or the Psychonauts are breaking child labour laws.

Perhaps the heir to Grulovia, Gristol Malik, was right right after all! The Psychonauts are monsters!

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

After joining the Psychonauts officially, albeit as an intern, Raz soon discovers Nick from the Mailroom trussed up in packaging and brainless. Finding a key in Nick’s pocket, the senior agents, suspecting a double agent, try to identify them by heading to the Lady Luctopus Casino. Raz and the rest of the interns also partake in the mission. But only after Raz has massed around with the mental connections in Psychonaut agent and erstwhile agent: Hollis Forsythe.

And here is where we find my biggest disappointment with the game. Despite the promise of espionage and high-stakes missions set out on the caper to the Lady Luctopus Casino, this was the only real appearance of a location outside the general area of the Motherlobe. While setting the game in and around the Quarry, the Questionable Area and Green Needle Gulch helped contain the game, I couldn’t help but wish for a globe-trotting adventure around the Psychonauts world. Instead, we got woods, woods and more woods.

That said, the areas that players did get to play through aren’t small by any means. They are liberally peppered with collectibles and are stuffed to the brim with fun side activities to complete.

In a game all about the power of the mind, however, is was the mental realms in Psychonauts 2 that truly shone. I loved how unique and original they all were. From the fractured mind of Ford Cruller to the Hospital Casino that was part and parcel of Hollis’s hot streak period or even the trippy aspect of the Psi King’s Sensorium. These were all excellent ways to demonstrate a character’s mental state as well as their life experience.

One of my favourites was that of Cassie O’Pea. In her mental realm, Raz had to reunite all her different archetypes. These were all facets of who she was but were not quite the whole. It reminded me of the short story I wrote a year or two ago called Splintered where I tried to explore the many masks that people wear, whether they’re neurotypical or neurodivergent.

After all, with the hunt for being authenticity, why do we always pretend to be someone else in order to be liked?

Of course, it’s not always about being liked. Sometimes it’s about putting on another hat in order for survival. Trapped in a terrible life situation, a child has to grow up fast in order to cope. The hope, of course, is that once those circumstances end, they can return to being the child they once were if perhaps a little wiser and more responsible than they were before.

I, for one, have felt like this when interacting with my friends. I have a group of board game friends. Then a group of video game enthusiasts that I call my friends. And now I have a group at work that I can maybe call my book friends. True, they might not read all the authors that I do but I can discuss some of the books that I read with people! It’s a dream come true!

Throughout the game, more and more major story elements are dropped like breadcrumbs before Raz and it isn’t long before the truth is revealed. His family was not cursed to die in water by a gypsy fortune teller. Rather, his great aunt was Maligula and she had replaced his actual grandmother after the Psychic 6 defeated her two decades ago. It was she that was the Deluge of Grulovia and which the Delugionists (great word play on delusion) were trying to bring back. Except, of course, there weren’t many Delugionists to speak of. The mole was Nick from the Mailroom. Who was actually the heir to Grulovia in disguise because he had run out of black caviar to consume.

While the plot of Psychonauts 2 could be considered simplistic when compared to other games, I enjoyed how mental health issues were incorporated from a gameplay perspective with new enemies like flying regrets with heavy weights that could crush you if one wasn’t careful, enablers that buff other enemies, doubts that slow Raz down and panic attacks that seem so incredibly overwhelming until they can be slowed down. Of course, mental illness cannot be so easily defeated but the message throughout the game was heartfelt and heartwarming.

Plus, it wasn’t as on the nose like Frey’s message to Homer at the end of the game.

Beyond that, I also liked the new abilities that Psychonauts 2 employed. From mental connection to slowing time to creating a paper-thin copy of Raz that can slip between cage bars to open a door. While not all of them are effective in a fight, they provided new ways to problem solve and were a delight to play around. So much so that I also nabbed the Platinum for the title! A fact that I’m quite proud of for I now sit at 14 Platinums on my PlayStation profile.

So, is Psychonauts 2 a fun game? You bet your last dollar it is. Is it Game of the Year material? Probably not. But it’s a colourful world that isn’t afraid to tackle difficult subjects (though one could argue that its attempts to do so simplify the issues and strip them a little of the nuance that would go with it). Best of all, Psychonauts 2 has a story that, while trope-heavy and which follows some well-known beats, never overstays its welcome. Some might dismiss the fact that it can be finished in about 15 hours but in a world where most are strapped for time, it’s probably one of the better games that can tell such a comprehensive tale without wasting a single moment!

Now we need a game with Raz as an actual adult, solving all of the world’s problems one brain at a time!

Purpose and Direction

On June 5, 2023April 21, 2023 By kyndarisLeave a comment

Mental illness is something that has only, in recent decades, been properly acknowledged. With the help of the pandemic, it was pushed to the forefront of the social consciousness as people struggled to adapt to the new dorm of lockdowns. yet, even in this day and age, there is still a stigma associated with getting professional help to address the underlying issues of one’s psyche. And while society is focused on the high levels of anxiety and depression in our youth, in an age where purpose is almost impossible to find and apathy pervades even the brightest of minds, it should be noted that no age group is immune to mental illness.

Or its consequences.

From a personal level, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m no stranger to suicide ideation. After all, when the world seems such a challenge, when all I do is float around, never hitting the milestones in life that others have, there have been days when I’ve wondered if the struggle is worth it. It just seems easier to remove oneself from the equation. To put an end to needless pain and suffering.

And this is exactly where we find Alfre “Frey” Holland in the opening moments of Forspoken. As the game begins, players find the main character on trial for theft. Which is her third misdemeanour. If not for the sympathetic judge, Maya Bird, and the fact that it’s nearly Christmas, Frey might be on a one-way trip to jail.

Fortunately for our protagonist, she gets off with community service instead. After all, the game needs to game. And putting Frey in prison isn’t going to lead to the events of Forspoken now, is it?

As Frey leaves the courts, however, she is accosted by the very thugs that asked her to steal a car and deliver it to their boss. She managed to escape but later the miscreants find the apartment Frey has been squatting in and burn it down. Along with the cash she had accrued to finally escape the mightmare her life had become.

Honestly, not being able to pick up the gym bag full of money bfore Frey went searching for Homer, WHILE THE APARTMENT WAS ON FIRE had me screaming at the screen. Every interaction I had with it, Frey would refuse to pick it up, commenting that she needed to find her cat.

I know the game needs a reason for Frey to hit rock-bottom but learn some common sense!

Anyways, without the means to escape her current situation and having nowhere else to turn, Frey hands Homer to Maya Bird and then contemplates what to do with her life atop the Crossroads Hotel near the Holland Tunnel where she was found as a baby. As Frey debates whether or not to jump, she spots something in the corner of her eye. Breaking into the shop, she find a strange glittering vambrace and, as she reaches for it, is suddenly thrust into Athia.

Just like Alice, in her favourite book, Frey is now in a brand new world. But Athia is no Wonderland. Whereas Lewis Carroll, also known as Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, crafted a whimsical world with grinning cats and mad tea parties, the world of Athia is not nearly as fanciful. Rather, it is a world on the brink of collapse. And when viewed from the lens that its current state is a reflection of Frey’s tenuous mental state: her bone-deep depression that is just one bad day away from utter destruction, it makes sense that the world, although filled with fantastical landscapes and magic, is also a vast empty land devoid of people. Abandoned towns scatter the countryside and the only ‘living’ things are the creatures that have been corrupted by the Break. And as I was exploring the world, I couldn’t help but feel that the land itself was much too drab and washed-out (unless, of course I was in the heavy break-infused lands near the Tantas’ palaces. But those were really just word filters). It was only in photo mode where I could adjust the colour and saturation that Athia felt more alive.

After an encounter with a dragon, Frey begins her quest to find a way back home to New York and her cat, Homer. Along the way, she is forced to fight against the corrupted Tantas. In the process, she becomes a beacon of hope for the surviving denizens of Athia, even though the idea of being a hero is something she struggles to accept until the end. The weight of expectations and the duty thrust upon is something that Frey fights against throughout much of the game. An understandable reaction if one considers her fraught childhood and her difficult circumstances right before she was transported to Athia.

Some might have complained that her refusal to take up the call goes against the usual plucky video game protagonist, or makes her weak, but I thought this characterisation for Frey particularly apt. If I fell into another world that was suffering from a particular malaise and learned that I was their only hope, I’d be scared, too, of picking up that mantle. More so if I had a history of falling through the cracks of society as others failed to provide aid when I needed it and failing to meet the expectations of others.

But, supported by the townspeople that believe in her, such as Auden, Johedy and Pilo, Frey is able to push past the fear that held her back and save the broken land once and for all from the machinations of the evil daemon, Susurrus.

Of course, even by game’s end, Athia is not entirely free of the Break. While the work of trying to clear it may seem daunting, Frey and the Athians are content to put in the hard yards to rebuild. Just because you defeat the ancient demon of destruction doesn’t mean that the world suddenly returns to normal. As with mental health, saving Athia (and oneself) is a journey of thousands upon thousands of little steps. It’s about reprogramming the biases that we have. It’s about taking some time for yourself so that you don’t collapse when you focus on looking after others. And it’s also about accepting those bad parts of yourself and reconciling it with your strengths as a whole.

In not many games have I seen such a thorough exploration of mental health beyond Psychonauts. For, if we are to take the metaphor even further, Susurrus himself is that inner negative voice we have inside. The one that tells us we aren’t worthy. That we’re ugly. That we’re stupid and will fail whatever endeavour we try our hand at. I know that as a writer, I’m one of my own worst critics. Rereading some of my works, I can’t help but pinpoint every misspelling or error. Worse is when I’m editing my long-form stories and wonder why I spent so long on something so horrendously atrocious. It would be easier if I simply deleted everything.

Fittingly, sussurus is a noun that means whispering, murmuring or rustling: “The susurration of the wind in the trees.”

I suppose my only gripe with the mental illness angle of Forspoken is how each Tanta breaks. Theirs is not some slow descent. Somehow, Susurrus manages to push them over the brink and they suddenly go from well-meaning protector to outright tyrant. Or suddenly develop a split personality. I’d have preferred witnessing the descent into so-called ‘madness’ rather than be peppered by notes from the citizens that speak of the sudden reversal in the Tantas demeanour.

And for that matter, I’d have liked to have seen, rather than read, what life had been like in Athia before. Or to hear of the world before the Break from the older residents of Cipal. Forspoken, much like The DioField Chronicle has a lot of world-building and lore that is relegated to the background but remains untouched by the main narrative. It would have shown better the hope the people carried and the resignation they had reached after twenty years of worsening circumstances.

Beyond the story elements, Forspoken is a fun game especially in terms of traversal. After all, it’s not everyday that the main protagonist is a dexterous mage that can do magic parkour. While I did find some of the controls a little floaty or inexact, I loved being able to climb cliffs and watch the trail of magic that Frey left behind as she ran, jumped and floated to her next destination. Combat, too, was a blast. While I know that there are people who complained about it after playing the demo, I thought each set had its own unique quirks. It helped that enemies, too, had vulnerabilities or resistances to certain types of magic, which allowed me to change them on the fly when needed.

Of course, there’s no need to actually change the type of magic one liked best if you were overlevelled, but the different effects and the flashiness of the spells were quite enjoyable to see. That and the fact that you could switch them around on the fly with a button prompt.

Now, the dialogue. The one point that many critics and players alike too umbrage against. For me, personally, I never found anything to dislike about the exchanges between Frey and Cuff. Some people pointed to the awkward writing when Frey discovered she had powers and I retort that if I could suddenly move things with my mind, I’d probably say the same thing. The only character that I felt was lacklustre in delivery was actually the bard: Wallace. Most of his lines sounded like they had been phoned in or they were just said awkwardly.

Once you’ve played through Biomutant and had to deal with the grating narrator commenting on your every move, there isn’t anything else that compares.

Long story short, I enjoyed my time with Forspoken. While I was a little hesitant at first, seeing all the negative impressions of the game, I thought it best to still give it a fair go. And while the ending message was a little on the nose, reminding me of the one I wrote for my short story Unseen, I still feel like it bears repeating. If you are going through something hard or difficult, you are not alone. Help is available! You are NOT a burden. People DO care. Even if it’s just one other life, you HAVE made an impact and you have CHANGED it for the BETTER.

I’m also just going to insert a link to crisis lines for anyone that may need it right here:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines

And hey, you never know if you might just isekai into another world and become its saviour.

On a site note, I definitely felt there were a few longing looks that were exchanged between Frey and Auden. But maybe that’s just me trying to see if there’s anything I can latch my fantasies onto. In any case, a sequel to Forspoken might be a far-off dream considering its poor performance.

He Only Had Himself to Blame

On May 26, 2023April 14, 2023 By kyndarisLeave a comment

The number 8 is meant to be fortuitous in the realm of Chinese superstition. Unfortunately, suitor number 8 was anything but. And given that this was my first date after returning from a trip overseas, I had been secretly hoping for some excitement and adventure. Alas, the only excitement I ever got on the date was the sudden downpour that met me as I clambered out of the car and rushed to the station, which was then followed by a fast-flowing river of water that I had wade past to arrive at our meeting spot. Suffice it to say, by the time I arrived, my shoes and socks were completely soaked. A distraction that would prove to take up much of my thoughts as you, dear readers, will see.

But while the above paragraph paints a date of disastrous proportions from the very beginning, it was still very much an exaggeration of the events. I mean, yes, I did have squelchy shoes and wet socks but it wasn’t the worst situation I’ve been in.

I met number 8, who I shall henceforth name Mr Cellophane to keep up with the Chicago theme (but also because I found him rather bland), just outside a dessert cake store at Darling Square. While he was polite, even messaging me beforehand if he could shout me a coffee (which, I’ll have you know, I turned down because you never know how others might interpret an act of kindness), I couldn’t help but judge his outward appearance. True, he wasn’t as badly dressed as some of the others I’ve met but what is with men and the fact that they think they can get away with an unbuttoned collar shirt and baggy pants that need a good ironing?

That aside, Mr Cellophane had chosen a table outside where any errant wind could have us soon soaked to the skin! After arriving at the store and turning the corner, I spotted him seated at a small table. As well as an empty table inside through the glass. Given the downpour I had just endured, I suggested that we sit inside rather than risk getting wet if the wind decided to change direction.

There are days when the rain falls almost laterally! And a roof over one’s head does nothing if there are no walls to also deflect those pellets of water!

Mr Cellophane was amenable enough to the change and we found ourselves safely ensconced inside the cafe within seconds.

As he had never visited the store before, he was the first to choose a cake. When he had returned to the table, he was sporting a small slice of red velvet and cherry cake. Then it was my turn to pick and choose a delightful treat to accompany some relaxing small talk. I chose a light sponge cake with strawberry and pistachios.

Once I had paid for it and my hot chocolate, I joined Mr Cellophane back at the table we had claimed. Throughout it all, I learned he had a sister and mother. His father, while alive, was out of the family picture. The reason he gave was a little vague but it was clear that his father had done a bad thing.

And then we moved on to work, games and a few of his hobbies. He did occasionally ask me a few questions but it was Mr Cellophane that mostly dominated the conversation. Probably, he wanted to fill in any awkward silences. He was very nervous throughout the whole affair if the visible shaking was any indication. But because of that, I felt like I could never really get a word in edgewise. He would just steamroll through everything, from the fact that he LARPs with BattleCry (yes, I’ve hard about it. At one point, I was even tempted to join) to the fact that he went hiking with a few friends).

Did I ever raise the fact that I went travelling recently? Nope. Why? Well, he never asked and I never did get the opportunity to do so. He was just so busy talking about his life – which, can be my fault. I do encourage them to keep talking – that I merely sat there eating my cake and finishing off my drink before he even got half-way through his own.

Yet despite the fact that he was in his own world, nattering on about the things that he liked and his current situation, I couldn’t help but find him utterly dull. His was a life that was almost like any other. There wasn’t anything special to write home about. Just another face in a sea of thousands.

Not a great place to be in.

So, when we finally vacated our spots, mostly to let a group of three sit down and actually enjoy the kurtosh they had ordered, we meandered towards the train station. Of course, he told me that it was a lovely date and he thought we had a connection and that I was wonderful and beautiful.

Why do men fixate on appearance? Please tell me more about my stunning personality and/ or whatever else you might have found engaging. Oh, that’s right, you didn’t get to hear me nerd out about my writing or whatever else because you simply dominated the conversation and allowed me the occasional one-liner zingers that got you chortling!

If I sound somewhat irked, it’s because I’m starting to wonder if I should be dating men at all.

To be perfectly honest, I think a part of me would prefer to date women. Of course, it can’t just be any woman. They’d have to be a ball of sunshine to my snarky grump. The Enid to my Wednesday. But once they get past that outer layer of bah humbug! they’d find that I can be just as kooky and mischievous and kind-hearted as any chaos gremlin. I mean, staying at home is great but it’s also great to enjoy some fun in the sun and maybe boogie where nobody is watching.

And I did get to enjoy some of that when I was on my overseas trip. It’s a shame that the woman was married and probably wasn’t into other women, though.

Still, friendship is always an avenue that I’m keen to explore. And it’s always good to expand one’s horizons, I find, and trying new things instead of doubling down on only the familiar.

And yet, despite all my misgivings with Mr Cellophane, I tried to go for a second date. After all, I was very much distracted by my wet shoes and socks (I think I mentioned it about three or four times). So, we made tentative plans to do so. But during the week til Easter, as we were occasionally texting (and I had to look after my grandmother because my mother had gone on a cruise), I was a little lacklustre in my responses. Didn’t help, of course, that the topics he chose to talk about were very…unexciting.

To be fair, some of the blame could be laid at my feet as I didn’t try my hardest to be as engaging as possible. But paired with going out, looking out my grandmother and feeling honestly drained from the work week I had, could you blame a girl?

So, of course, Mr Cellophane became much more hesitant about the whole thing and sought out my opinion before he pulled the plug. Seeing that he was pulling away and not wanting to lead him on with false promises (but still willing to give it a second go just in case), I let him decide and wished him a Happy Easter.

He unmatched me soon after.

Which somewhat bothered me. After all, I was the one that wasn’t attracted to him. That right ought to have gone to me!

Regardless, we shall see how well my dating goes from here on out. Unfortunately, I don’t see it going very well. Most of these dating excursions have me thinking with my head rather than letting my heart decide. And almost always, I find something lacking in a potential partner.

Still, one must persist! For the time being.

At the very least, I’m meeting new people and getting to understand new perspectives. So, that’s a win!

Probably…

Maybe…

Kinda…

Maybe after a year, I’ll pack it all up and just go back to my fictional boyfriends and/ or girlfriends. Why? Well, I’m an independent person who don’t need another individual to define who they are! And I love myself for being the unique combination of chaos gremlin and sarcastic homebody grouch that I am.

Marching to its own Rhythm

On May 19, 2023April 7, 2023 By kyndarisLeave a comment

In the realm of video games, there are few franchises that are as iconic as Final Fantasy. Or which have a lengthy history spanning literal decades. Over the years, however, the Final Fantasy series has reiterated their formula for each entry: from turn-based combat to action to strategy. Then, of course, there’s been the slow evolution in terms of narratives. While many hold Final Fantasy VII as an example of some of the best storytelling to have been told in a video game, there have been other moments that have shocked and awed audiences. And now that there will be 16 mainline entries, the games have also built up a healthy repository of music. In fact, concerts are held all across the world.

So, what does one do with all that nostalgic material keyed to people’s core memories of one of the most enduring franchises of all time? Why, you celebrate it with a spin-off video game dedicated solely to the music! To Zanarkand? Valse di Fantastica? You name it, Theatrhythm: Final Bar Line has it. Even if it might sometimes be behind a gated paywall.

Now, one important thing to note with Theatrhythm: Final Bar Line is that it does NOT have a story. Yes, there are the ‘series’ quests that can unlock all the music in stage mode but this mostly equates to selecting an entry in the long history of Final Fantasy, unlocking a few characters and playing through the song pieces. While there are a few role-playing elements and quests involved, such as defeating the boss in however many seconds, completing the quests provides you with a cosmetic rewards or items that can help speed up the levelling of your chibi characters.But in terms of an overall arching narrative, you can forget about it. After playing through, and clearing, a few of the series entries, one can then unlock the Theatrhythm entry, play through the arrangements found therein and watch the credits roll.

You don’t even have to land the final blow on Chaos. It’s really just a clear the song challenge. And if you’re a dab hand at music rhythm action games, it can be a cinch. Especially if you’re on the easiest setting.

Speaking of which, there are four settings for each song: Basic, Expert, Ultimate and Supreme. But, it should be noted that Supreme does not exist for every song. There are only a few choice ones that have it.

As for me, I enjoyed the difficulty that came from Expert. It was neither too hard or too easy even on the first attempt. And while I could complete a few on Ultimate, there were a few that I would need time to practice on if I hoped to pass them. Which, if you like music rhythm games, is what you would mostly be doing I assume. Me? I just like to enjoy my time and not have worry about nailing every single button press.

I suppose my biggest gripe was the sudden leap in skill from Expert to Ultimate and the new ways that they combined button presses that I hadn’t been expecting when I first encountered them. Of course, with practice comes perfect. But as a tormented gifted student, if I can’t pass it all on the first go, what’s the point.

Could I put in the time to practice each song so that they become embedded in memory? Yes. But do I want to? Not really. I just want to listen to my favourite songs and, occasionally, jam out to them on my console with a few accompanying button presses to acknowledge that I still have a sense of rhythm and could be described as somewhat musically inclined. Even though I quit piano at grade 5.

Which, honestly, goes to show that I’m not the target audience for these types of games and honestly, I’m really just a filthy casual who likes to indulge in a little nostalgia because it’s fun. And isn’t that the whole point of video games? To just be fun?

But while I might have bemoaned the quests earlier, I cannot deny that some of the role-playing elements were helpful for clearing the occasional Ultimate challenge that I undertook. In fact, when I first started, the quests that were present on each song had me replaying them so that I could say that I completed them all with a grin on my face. Many of these weren’t just reliant on being good at the music rhythm elements, however, but were focused on picking and choosing the abilities of party members.

Knowing that a song might contain an enemy that can cast poison meant putting a healer character that could use poisona to counteract it if the quest demanded that I clear it with 80% health. If I had to defeat a large number of enemies, I’d stack my team with hard-hitting characters that could deliver the necessary damage per second to bury the opposition.

While I do love the high octane moments of battle music stages, field music stages were a chance to relax and listen to more calming pieces. But I also found that there were also certain music that I struggled with – especially if I’d never heard them before. But it was especially clear when I was playing through some of the Final Fantasy XIV pieces. Particularly when it came to the boss music and their reliance on heavy metal shredding.

For songs that I was familiar with and had clear percussion and note progressions, I was fine. But give me an unknown score with indeterminate areas of almost silence and I had to rely on the visual cues more than the audio to tell me when the perfect moment to hit the A button was.

Still, I must admit that getting the chance to have cinematic cutscenes play through was also a neat way to celebrate the video game franchise that launched the Western interest into a whole new genre.

Despite a few middling issues with Theatrhyhtm: Final Bar Line, I did enjoy my time with it as I was travelling overseas. Even when coming back home to Australia, I’d occasionally pick it up and play through a few songs that I enjoyed. And honestly, that’s probably the best way to play the game. It’s not something that’s meant to be heavily rushed through in for a few weeks before abandoning. Like Animal Crossing before it, it’s a game that you return to time and again just to listen to a few of your favourite songs and play through bit by bit until completion.

So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be utilising my Premium Deluxe package and enjoying all the DLC as well, thank you very much!

The Return Flight Home

On May 12, 2023April 3, 2023 By kyndarisLeave a comment

In 2020, I had intended to travel overseas and revisit the United Kingdom in order to see the sights and sounds I’d missed on my first trip. COVID-19 prevented that from happening. It was only after three years of isolation and staying within the borders of Australia that I finally ventured onto a plane to take me away from the familiar. But instead of reinstating my original travel plans, I went one step further and joined a tour headed to Turkey and Egypt. Accompanying my grandmother, of all people.

And what an adventure it was!

True, it might not have been the one I had been hoping for but it was certainly something to experience, given my interest in Ancient History and love for mythologies that date back several millennia.

Although, as it soon came to pass, many places throughout Egypt and Turkey didn’t feel like I was enjoying their own cultural history so much as also getting a dose on Ancient Greece and Ancient Rome as well. That isn’t to say it’s a bad thing. Far from it! It shows how interconnected the ancient world was with trade ad culture. On the downside, it did dampen a little of my enthusiasm to realise that many of sites we visited weren’t exactly built by the local populace but rather the remnants of another civilisation that had dominated the area in ages past.

I suppose, though, that it goes to show the complex and interconnected nature of world history. After all, no nation can truly rise and fall in isolation. History has shown us time and again how greed and the entrepreneurial spirit of humans has led to new discoveries and the subsequent shrinking of the world.

That said, on the day of our flight back to Sydney, we made one last pit stop at the Suleymaniye Mosque as the Blue Mosque was still under renovations and not open for visitors. Smaller, it seemed than the Hagia Sophia, the Suleymaniye Mosque was decorated with a rich red carpet underfoot (that didn’t stink too much of unwashed feet) and had the usual trappings that I’ve come to associate with Baroque style mosques.

Built in 1557, it took about seven years for completion. Inside its walls, it contained medreses (a type of educational institution), a hospital, a hospice and Turkish baths to name but a few of the amenities.

For us tourists, it served as simple shelter from the drizzle that had hounded us since waking that morning. The rain, it should be known, followed us throughout the entire day with a vengeance. Even when we had finished looking at the mosque and headed to a retail outlet centre, the rain followed. All up until the time we headed to the airport for our flight back to Sydney.

As for the shopping centre, there wasn’t much difference to what we might see in Australia. What caught my eye as I wandered through the food court of the megaplex, though, was the fact that it had a Shake Shack! Of all things!

We don’t even have a Shake Shack in Australia yet! So, how come Turkey has one of the most popular East Coast burger chains and Australia doesn’t? It’s completely outrageous and I demand that a Shake Shack or an In-N-Out be properly established in Sydney.

They even have a Popeyes (although Google tells me that there is one in Melbourne)!

Other than the food court, I also saw shops that could be found in Australia as well as a few international brands. There was even a bookstore, the first I’d seen while overseas. Granted, it wasn’t just a bookstore but it had books as well as video games on display. For the first time in twenty or so days, I got a taste of actual normalcy!

I also caught sight of a spiffing leather jacket. Red, like the blood that would flow from when I’ve decapitated my enemies, and it was rocking a detachable hood. Sure, it cost 5000 Turkish lira, and was a little on a the expensive side. But you know what? I bought that sucker because it was screaming my name. And yes, it was a bit tight around my girth but I can always wear it unzipped…

Besides, they also say that leather stretches! And I was wearing multiple layers before trying it on.

Which, I know, sounds like excuses considering that it was XL but I’ll be the first to readily admit that I am on the overweight side of things. But only just a little! And…you know, that my face is too round. Which is why I hate photos and why it’s been tough on the dating scene as I have a minimal amount of photos that star me in them. Also, posing is an issue. How ought one stand? What should these upper appendages called arms be doing? Is it still acceptable for me to be doing the classic ‘v’ sign or is that too stereotypical of every Asian ever?

Gah! I’m having a meltdown over photographs!

What was I writing about?

Ah, yes, the last day in Turkey. Well, after downing a burger from Shake Shack – which, honestly, was my favourite meal during my entire trip – it wasn’t long before we waved a fond farewell to Turkiye. On the drive to the airport, we parted with the remaining lira we had, tipping the driver and the tour guide, Abdullah, for their services.

And then, it was a short-ish flight to Dubai before we were on our way back to Sydney (wherein I managed to sneak in Woman King and HBO’s adaption of the Time Traveler’s Wife starring Rose Leslie).

Overall, I must say, that the trip was one that I’ll remember fondly. While it had its ups and downs, I still learned a lot and got to see more of the wider world than if I’d still been too afraid to leave Australia. Books and movies and documentaries can bring the world to me but there is something about actually going out there and seeing things for myself that makes travelling so eye-opening and special. A picture might say a thousand words, but they’re almost always especially curated to evoke a feeling. Actually walking beside remnants of the past, interacting with the locals and trying their food is an entirely different experience. And one I hope to continue to experience now that the rest of the world is back on the menu.

COVID-19 might not be gone (and it might never be gone) but that shouldn’t stop people from living their best lives and seeing what the world has to offer. True, there might be limitations based on a person’s socioeconomic status and the physical capabilities, but for those that can, it’s something that can change you.

The world may be small in the grand scheme of things, but it’s also so much bigger than just a pretty blue bauble hanging in the heavens. There is a rich history here that is begging to be uncovered to its fullest extent. And from what I’ve learned from travelling, as well as reading a history book as I travelled, the progression of the human race as a whole is all about engaging with their culture, beliefs and way of life rather than crushing it all under an imperialist heel or the misguided attempts of defending one’s interests.

We can all learn from being a little bit more open-minded and tolerant of the ideas of others rather than falling back into a tribal mentality of us versus them. As history has shown, it never works well and it’s all fuelled by self-interest. Open dialogue is the real path forward to success. Here’s hoping people can see that before they allow themselves to blindly trot down the path of mutual destruction.

Now, to end it all with inexplicable photos of animals. Mostly cats. Why? Because both Turkey and Egypt had way too many feral animals on the prowl. So, while they may appear cute, do not approach! You can, however, take quality photos of them from a distance.

The Treasure of King Priam

On May 10, 2023April 3, 2023 By kyndarisLeave a comment

The tale of Troy is well-known among many. For some, the tale of the Trojan Horse was simply the start of Odysseus’s journey back home. For others, it was the tragic end of Achilles after his friend, Patroclus was killed by Hector, which led him to seek revenge before losing his life to Paris (which helped spawn the best selling novel of The Song of Achilles. At least, I think that’s what it’s about. I have yet to read Madeleine Miller’s book).

According to the Romans, of course, the war with Troy also led to the founding of their city. As to whether there is any truth to that, who’s to say. But a displaced group of people finding a home across continents does sound plausible.

But the tale of Troy is not simply a fight between two warring human factions. It was also a battle between the Greek Gods. In fact, the entire story of woe began with Eris, Goddess of Strife and Discord, and her being slighted by the other Gods. In turn, she created the Golden Apple on which was was inscribed: For the Fairest.’ This, in turned, sparked competition between the three main Goddesses: Hera, Athena and Aphrodite.

Not wanting to suffer the anger that would come as a result of choosing who the apple would go to, Zeus nominated Paris, prince of Troy, to choose in his stead. And, as the story goes, he chose Aphrodite. And thus, he was rewarded the love of the most beautiful woman in the world: Helen of Sparta.

The problem, of course, was that she was already married to King Menelaus.

And so, from one simple choice, war sprung forth for ten long years. After all, Helen’s face was the one that led the launch of a thousand ships to bring her back home. The war the raged was one where heroes rose and fell on the battlefield until, at least, Odysseus came up with the most clever of ploys: hiding Greek troops in a wooden horse that would be presented to the Trojans as a symbol of the Greeks’ surrender. Feigning retreat, they would return in the dead of the night to an open gate and storm the city.

Ever since playing Age of Mythology and becoming obsessed with such stories, the tale of Troy was one of the very first to capture my imagination at a very young age. But I was the first such individual. In the 1800s, an archaeologist by the name of Heinrich Schliemann was also intent on uncovering the lost city. Though a dedicated scholar, he was also something of a treasure seeker and smuggled away many precious valuables out of Turkey for his personal gain. In his excavations, he also damaged quite a bit of the city and also incorrectly pronounced that Troia II as the one from the Iliad, though later scholars would grant the honour to Troia VI based on the defensive structures an imposing citadel.

While not as impressive as the remains at Ephesus, I still enjoyed my time exploring the ruins of Troy, or Troia as it was written, despite the cutting wind. There was even a statue of a wooden horse (not the original) created by the Turkish artisan: Izzet Senemoglu.

Another interesting fact about Troy/Trioa/ Hisarlik is that it isn’t very far from the Dardanelles Strait. Now, a student of modern history, and in particular, the world Wars, will know that this is where the famous battle of Gallipoli was held. And it was here that the allied forces launched the attack against the Turks in order to take the waterway linking the Black Sea to the Mediterranean.

After we finished looking around Troy, we drove to a restaurant in Gelibolu (Gallipoli) for lunch before taking the scenic route along the Sea of Marmara back to Istanbul for our second last day in Turkey.

Tomorrow promises to be an interesting day where we will visit a mosque and maybe do some shopping before heading to the airport for the long flight back to Sydney.

My time overseas has felt both long and short in equal measure but all such things must come to an end. I, certainly, am eager to go back home and bask in the familiar, even if the idea of returning to work and the stresses it promises doesn’t seem very appealing.

Still, I’ll be starting in a new position (which at time of writing this post, has been about a week and it’s going okay!). And there’s also the Toymaker story that I’ve been writing which needs to get finished before I can editing! Then onto the next the next story project that I’ve been meaning to write for a while now!

Oh, and games. Can’t forget those video games. During my time overseas, I was playing through quite a bit of Theatrhythm: Final Bar Line and there’s an impressions blog just waiting to be written up and uploaded!