Never Enough

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

When it comes to cup that have water in them, I’m usually a half empty kind of person. I can’t say why I’ve always been so pessimistic. In my eyes, I’m just trying to be a realist. Perhaps it was how I was raised. Or the things that I’ve experienced over the years. As the saying goes, ‘all good things must come to an end.’ Maybe that’s the reason why I’ve never been able to savour the time that I should be enjoying myself. 

Whatever the reason, when I’m feeling a little morose or sad, people around me constantly try to tell me to be ‘happy,’ practice mindfulness and try not to dwell on the bad things. For ‘this too shall pass.’ But I’ve never been able to subscribe to that particular mindset for it feels as if they wish for me to deny my current feelings in favour of a false perception of positivity.

My relatively negative attitude towards life also extends to other facets – like when I’m working or trying to commit to hobbies such as writing. As is always the case of this tortured wannabe writer: I am my own worst critic. Coupled with my perfectionist tendencies, I hate the thought of failing or doing the wrong thing. In fact, it’s one of the key triggers for my anxiety as I agonise over what else I could have done as I fear the worst possible outcome.

Rational discourse and logic never work. Often, as I stewed in bed over the fallout of my actions, I try to point out that hardly anyone would put weight to my words. That even as I dissect the corpse of a past conversation, they have, no doubt, pushed it into the past like water under the bridge. Should they have taken offense and not wish to be my friend, there was no going back and undo the damage that I wrought. Or if I had made a fatal mistake that would have cost the company exorbitant amounts of money and brought about my own sacking…

The key focus, in each scenario, has never been about the past. For it is immutable. It has already happened. All that I can do is learn from it and prepare myself for the future. 

But, in saying that, there is no use pondering the possibilities of the future and envisioning the darkest timeline when it gives me sleepless nights and stomach pains. As the adage goes: what will be, will be. A contingency plan is all well and good until it crumples in the crumples in the wake of a variable that was not taken into consideration. It’s a lesson most dungeon masters/ game masters have learned the hard way.

This post, however, was not supposed to be about my anxiety, however. It was actually meant to be about my adverse reaction to compliments. The last week (at point of time of writing this blog post), I received very favourable comments from my supervisors. Yet, though I should have been preening that my valiant efforts were recognised (finally!), I couldn’t help but blush and feel embarrassed. The more praise they heaped, the more I felt compelled to downplay my efforts. “After all, anyone could have done it,” said I. “It was luck. I just so happened to notice something was amiss.”

I’m not sure why I can’t simply accept the fact that someone thinks well of me. A part of me believes it stems from going to a selective high school and being in a hyper-competitive environment. Or the fact that there is a well-known cultural phenomenon in Australia called ‘tall-poppy syndrome.’ Maybe it was just always an aspect of my personality of never seeing myself as good enough.

In fact, all throughout my childhood, my mother’s friends would say I was ‘pretty’ or ‘cute.’ Always, I would deny it. Why? I’m not sure. I think a part of me believed that they were lying. That their compliments were only said as a means to befriend me but were never what they truly thought. 

Some might call it an advanced version of ‘imposter syndrome.’ And I suppose there is truth in that. Entering the work force, I’ve realised that I’m not as ‘average’ or as ‘normal’ as I presupposed. There are, in fact, many that never quite hit the bar when it comes to work commitment and due diligence. I have seen many an error that was never picked up until I came along. My ability to touch-type and various turns of phrase when it comes to writing reports is remarkable.

My stories, which I often think are trash and I should just delete it all, are actually finding a target audience. True, there are elements that could be improved. But that’s what having an agent and an editor are for. I have none of these things and yet I seem to be able to write stories that people are enjoying. 

Of course, I’m not receiving as many reviews or favourites as some of the best out there, but each positive one I do receive actually helps buoy my ego for a good long while. Even as I wonder why anyone, that is not my friend, likes what I cast out into the void that is the internet. And, if you’re a friend that says my writing is good…well, I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you. 

At this point, I’m basically Tony Tony Chopper of One Piece fame. 

It’s a hard and slow process. Yet I’m hopeful that in the near future I’ll be able to look back and laugh at my lack of self-confidence. That is, of course, contingent on the fact that the world doesn’t end.

Working Hard or Hardly Working

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

During my struggles with trying to find gainful employment, I never thought that my experiences would ever be helpful to someone else. Nor did I think it would take a pandemic to finally give me a permanent fixture in the workforce. Yet, here we are. I might not have the publishing deal that would have me over the moon, but now I have a steady income and don’t have to incessantly worry about my contract ending. Another benefit is that I am not sending job applications left, right and centre on a weekly basis. In fact, along with the changes in my personal routine brought about by COVID-19, I’ve found that I have more time on my hands to enjoy the finer things in life: like gaming and watching Hamilton on Disney+, as well as being increasingly paranoid when I venture outside.

Perhaps, however, because of my less than successful endeavours in the job market, one of my grandmother’s friends wanted to visit our humble abode. The reason why? To have their daughter pick my brain regarding the thankless job hunt. In their minds, since I had weathered many a refusal, they would I would be the perfect individual to provide unsolicited advice. So, they arranged for a personal meeting. Despite the disease ravaging our world.

They came to our house on a Saturday. I was very busy, gaming upstairs, when the doorbell rung. Reluctantly, I headed downstairs to engage them in conversation. The night before, I had rehearsed the questions I wanted to ask in order to tease out what their daughter wanted out of a job and which field she was hoping to find employment in.

Of course, any conversations in my household were peppered with interruptions from my well meaning grandmother as she tried to feed us on a glut of sweets.

Still, we pressed on. I learned that she was in her final year of university and primarily worked as a tutor. Amazingly, she had retained most of her students through the use of Zoom. And, unlike myself, she already had a few soft skills that she could put down on her resume along with a host of referees if required. 

While she said that teaching was not out of her cards, she wanted a government job – be it local, state or federal. As someone who had experience with applying for such positions due to my relatively useless Bachelor of Criminology and Criminal Justice, I would have been able to provide a regurgitation of any interview and training video ever.

Now that I knew what her career aspirations were, that was exactly what I did. I reiterated the importance of the STAR method: Situation, Task, Action and Result. Interviews, I told them, were very much like English essays of old. It is not enough to memorise an essay in preparation for a question that one does not know. Rather, it was best to figure out a few key and good examples that could be easily fitted to whatever the question demanded of them. This was an easy comparison to make as we both went to selective high schools and understood the stresses well.

In addition, I also stressed the importance of tailoring one’s resume to meet the requirements of the job. That the cover letter needed to address the core questions. Especially with government roles. All of the things that had been told to me by others quite recently, in fact.

I even asked her if she had any issues with public speaking, knowing that if one was anxious, it could also prove detrimental to trying to sell oneself to the highest bidder. She told me ‘no,’ and for that I was glad. Public speaking, from my own personal experience, had never been one of my fortes. Often, I found myself trying to edit my speeches as I was reading them aloud to the class. Even if I had memorised it, the stares of thirty pairs of eyes choked me up. I hated being the centre of attention in the classroom and would have preferred to keep my head down and out of sight.

Nowadays, I’m a little better. I’ve learned to push away my fears and what I think other’s opinions of me are. I mean, just because I’m a people pleaser to my friends doesn’t make me a complete doormat. 

I also reminded her that she was entering the job market during a perilous and fraught time. Many Australians, particularly those in hospitality and tourism had lost their jobs. It was going to be competitive and she would need to stand out from the crowd. COVID-19 has been an eye-opening experience, and an especially harsh one at that. When once people thought their position was secure, they have since found themselves turned out of home and penniless. Even with stimulus packages, it will be a hard road trying to bring back consumer confidence and encouraging people to venture outside with such a virulent virus claiming lives.

Still, I count myself lucky even though my job isn’t very glamorous. The money I earn is enough to afford me with the ability to continue playing my video games and fund my Netflix/Disney+ subscription. Even were that not enough, I also have my hobby of writing stories and these blog entries. In time, perhaps, I’ll scrounge up the courage to find a proper agent and publisher and see about getting the stories in my head on the printed page. For now, I’ll thank my lucky stars that I was finally granted permanency.

On a side note, Hamilton was AWESOME! Still want to watch it live, though.

Familial Bond

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

With video game releases that I’m interested in few and far between (or delayed), I felt compelled to make a proper dent in my pile of shame. In truth, it was just a simple excuse for me to pull out in order for me to finally finish Kiryu’s saga by playing through Yakuza 6: A Song of Life. Unlike the last two titles in the series, Yakuza 6 returned its focus on our favourite civilian-who-looks-like-a-yakuza, Kiryu Kazuma. There would not be four characters all vying for my attention with their separate narratives that would collide in the last chapter. Would there still be some strange government cover-up bullshit? You bet! So, without stopping to wonder if I should play something a little more light-hearted after finishing The Last of Us Part II, I dived head-first back into Kamurocho.

Yakuza 6 starts right at the end of Haruka throwing away her cherished dream because she could not continue lying about her family. Despite Haruka’s best attempt at reuniting with both the other orphans at Morning Glory and Kiryu, her father-figure is almost immediately arrested on trumped up charges of assault. With Kiryu’s decision to cleanse himself of his sins, however, Haruka is left at the mercy of the media. Unable to deal with the negative press, she then flees Okinawa to allow her pseudo-siblings the chance at achieving their own dreams without casting a shadow.

The motivation felt incredibly shallow as it all played out, considering that Haruka barely called the other children during her three years stint away. When Kiryu returned, it was understandable that he would be somewhat outraged to find Haruka gone. I’m not entirely sure who looked after the rest of the orphans. Maybe Ayako? But where would they have obtained the money to be properly fed and clothes? Were the subsidised by the government? Plot holes aside, Haruka’s disappearance was enough to spur Kiryu back to his old stomping grounds to find out what had happened to his young charge.

In Kamurocho, however, many things have changed. Increased tensions between the Tojo and the Saio triad now pushing into the area have put people on edge. But as Kiryu wanders around, hoping to find clues on the whereabouts of Haruka, he is informed that she was involved in a hit-and-run. And SURPRISE! there’s now a baby in the mix.

With such an odd beginning, it took some effort for me to properly click with the story. Like many, I had placed Haruka on a pedestal. The fact that she became pregnant and had birthed out a son seemed unfathomable. And then for the child’s father to have been a member of a small yakuza family in Hiroshima AS WELL AS THE HEIR TO THE SAIO TRIAD was a bit much to take in.

As such, it was imperative that I distracted myself with almost all the substories and side activities that were on display. And there were many. From being the manager of a baseball team to ousting a corrupt gang from the streets of Kamurocho. I very much liked the spearfishing elements as they brought a new dynamic to the gameplay that I was accustomed to when it came to the Yakuza series. The reintroduction of Pocket Circuit Fighter was also a fun distraction. 

But, of course, how could I forget Ono Michio? Though it was widely out of character for the usually serious Kiryu to don a mascot outfit with a huge tangerine head, I found these moments of levity enjoyable. They also proved to be a great distraction from a plot that only picked up steam in the latter half of the game, which was prone to spamming players with copious amounts of revelatory cutscenes in the last two chapters.

And yes, why has NO ONE ELSE ever thought to use SKI MASKS to hide their IDENTITY BEFORE? Once they were pulled out of the proverbial hat, it made little sense that none of the main characters ever thought to use such a disguise in their more nefarious crimes. 

Also, chucking Haruto around like he was a football IS A TERRIBLE IDEA! THIS IS A BABY WE ARE TALKING ABOUT!! True, he might have enjoyed being thrown up into the air, but one does not simply pass him around as if it was a game of rugby. Honestly, story writers, do you have any lick of sense?

Then, of course, the narrative had to force Kiryu into trying to dig deeper into the ‘secret of Onomichi.’ Though Haruto’s life was not in any further danger, Kiryu’s endless curiosity to find out more served to elongate the story for a couple more hours – with a final confrontation that saw Kiryu shot three times and losing consciousness with Haruka bearing witness to his ‘final moments.’

Overall, the narrative was serviceable in that it allowed for a proper send-off to Kiryu Kazuma. After ten years of playing as the Dragon of Dojima, it was appropriate that Yakuza 6: A Song of Life made so many allusions to the previous titles – mostly in the character arcs. Unfortunately, since the title was solely focused on Kiryu, many of the other characters that fans fell in love with such as Daigo, Majima and Saejima took a backseat. I also disliked how even as the story focused on Haruka’s disappearance and her child, she remained in a coma for most of the chapters.

Unfortunately, Doctor Emoto and Komaki were absent. And I missed the silly revelations.

The underlying message of family and the bonds between people left a strong impression on me. After the previous game’s very strong hammer of DREAMS, I was relieved to see that Yakuza 6 kept it subtle and a little more tasteful. In fact, the comparisons between the Lo and Iwami family were excellent in highlighting the importance of understanding one’s children and maintaining a good relationship. I also liked how families were also not solely defined by blood ties. This was particularly evident in the adoptive family feel that came from the Hirose Family and Kiryu’s own experience of growing up as an orphan and seeing Kazama Shintaro as a father-figure. 

Gripes aside, I enjoyed the new songs Yakuza 6: A Song of Life brought into the world. My favourite was ‘Today is a Diamond.’ My least, ‘Fork in the Road.’ But that was mostly due to the game not reading my inputs. After searching on Google, I discovered that I was not the sole person that had encountered the bug. I also very much liked the gym portions of the game and scouting out hidden cats around the cities.

The one side activity that I was a little hesitant to repeat after completing it once was the live chat. Kudos to the translators that played an instrumental role in making some of the dialogue hilarious. Truth be told, however, it was the less savoury moments of the game and I am glad that I never discovered the photography section of Yakuza Kiwami 2. 

What I also liked was the Chinese. Gone was the halting and incorrect pronunciations from Tanimura. The truth is, though, they probably actually hired Chinese actors to give the Saio Triad proper lines. While some of the translations were not exact, they still managed to accurately portray the meaning behind the words and phrases used. 

The combat was also very reminiscent of Yakuza Kiwami 2 with experience points separated into strength, agility, spirit, technique and charisma. It was a little annoying that normal mobs could still reduce my health by such a large amount, but it did feel balanced. I doubt it would have been fair if I just blasted through every fight with just one punch. Although, that would have been entertaining to see.

Yakuza 6: A Song of Life proved to be a decent send-off for one of my favourite characters. Though there were stumbles along the way, it was a solid adventure that kept quite a bit of intrigue. As a writer, however, the plot did feel quite contrived in places, but I swept it aside.

Now with the pending release of a new generation of console, I’ll need to hurry if I want to remain on the front-lines of not-gaming-journalism. Of course, with Yakuza 7: Like a Dragon still on the horizon, it won’t be long before I’ll be back on the streets of Kamurocho. Then again, I still have Judgment to get through…

A Single Step and Then Another

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

Writing is no small feat. Ever since I was bitten by the writing bug, I’ve struggled with keeping projects afloat and maintaining interest in blog management. Before Tumblr, I tried to start a blog twice on Blogspot (now known as Blogger). Much of that came from my desire to track my days. Like keeping a diary or journal. But interesting things were far and few between. The days of my youth largely blurred together and I could hardly find the time to sit down and jot down my thoughts on school or university.

During primary school, when computers were still churlish machines that chugged along at a snail’s pace, I tried my first attempts at writing fanfiction. I didn’t know what it was called at the time, but my curiosity led me to tease out what happened after the Happily Ever After’s that were promised in certain Disney films such as Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. As ever, I proved an astute business woman, selling my perfectly printed books that were stapled on one side on the market for $2 a pop.

Alas, the only person that bought my works of genius was my mother.

High school was when I rediscovered my hobby. I was already an avid reader. Writing, while a more difficult challenge, once more sunk its claws into me. As always, I wrote to entertain – imagining daring mercenaries in a fantasy world or anthropomorphic animals clinging to a dying kingdom. Most were inspired by the stories I read and the video games I played. Many of the characters were named after my friends or were poor caricatures. 

There were times, however, when I was writing that I wondered if perhaps I was stealing too many tropes from such classics as Eragon and the Fire Emblem franchise. As such, I often hewed and hawed over many of my works. By the end of high school, I deleted the one major story that I had sitting on my FictionPress. Mostly because I had no proper idea of where I wanted the narrative to go. And I was just filling it up with utter nonsense.

Yet the idea of a mercenary and a hidden princess persisted. I tried to use it again in my next writing project. Still, the land of Thlandaris never quite reached my lofty expectations. Changing everyday animals into weird fantasy creatures with fantastical names also didn’t help.

And so my writing stalled once again.

It was not until I began working, however, that I found my way back again to the world of writing. Though I hadn’t opened up a blank Word page in a while (at least for anything other than a university assignment or a job application), ideas aplenty danced and tossed around in my head. That, of course, was when I decided to restart my attempts at keeping a blog. Yes, I knew it would never really transpire into something majorly popular (though the hope remained that one of my many articles would become viral and a newspaper would decide to feature it), but I thought it would assist with my attempts at writing.

The going, however, was slow when I began work on Divided We Fall. The story itself went through three drafts. With the last one being the most complete. And while I would have sorely liked to have edited it, it had taken a good four years to arrive at what I had been hoping for. Even during those gruelling years of crafting the characters of Feryden, Elisander, Kiralt and Lathin (who were based on many of my earlier characters), I was also tempted by starting up a new project. Like many before me, it was easy to simply toss away an idea that was taking too long and do something different.

Despite that, I decided to keep a record of my many ideas for future stories. After all, if I could just finish one, then surely I had accomplished something.

Back to Divided We Fall, I went. And gosh darn it, I finished it in 2018. Along the way, of course, I had written several short stories. And, I had also managed to be consistent with my blog updates. Yes, many were just impressions and reviews of the games I played – but churning out one a week was also nothing to scoff at.

But I still had ideas aplenty filling my head. While I was quite taken with the idea of writing a reinterpretation of Snow White, my dear friend Hayatedragoon convinced me to stick with my first idea. The one that I hoped would be published as a short series of books. The Adventures of Lacet and Idana.

Throughout the writing of my stories, there were many times when I wanted to give up or delete everything that I had written. As with most creative types with a hint of perfectionism, I was my own worst critic. No-one would like my characters, I said! My dialogue is atrocious! The singular starting sentence was not enough to capture the attention of readers!

With time, however, I managed to silence those thoughts (mostly). There are times, still, when I have wondered if it has all been worth the blood and sweat. It isn’t as if I have publishers and agents beating down my door. Nor do I have a thousand followers on FictionPress leaving me with positive reviews of the things I have written.

I will be honest, a part of me yearns for the praise. And my genius to be recognised. But to do so, however, would go against the very reason why I began writing. The reason why I wanted to write was to weave my own tales. To explore the stories of characters that do not usually get the spotlight. While Lacet and Idana follow many tropes that are stereotypical to the fantasy genre, I like to think I’ve subverted a few expectations. Lacet is no wise wizard. Nor is he young (and incredibly hot) upstart mage. He is middle-aged. His hair is balding and he has a bit of a stomach. 

Of course, as more chapters of Wild Child are uploaded to my FictionPress, I cannot help but worry if my writing will fall into the trap that so many others have done. Will I have ruined the characters by putting too much of myself into them? Will they all become Mary Sues by the end of it all? Will I overcompensate and so they all become terribly unlikeable? 

In other news, I finished editing Monsters Beneath My Bed a couple of months ago as well. Yet I’ve delayed uploading it until I’ve the entirety of Wild Child is up. And before I could even think to rest on my laurels, I began another short story (which is still in progress at time of writing up the blog post) and committed myself to another novel length story. This time, however, the genre is a departure from my usual stomping grounds. Forget fantasy. Let’s try and commit to a modern adventure/ thriller! 

Already I am regretting my decision. Nothing seems factually accurate and I fear that my attempt might just be deleted given another month or two. 

But I will persist. The key to forging ahead, at least for myself, is to worry not about how perfect the quality of the writing is. That is what the editing process is about. Of course, even after editing, slip-ups can still occur. But by carving out the crude gem can one polish it. Such is the process of writing. And if you think I’m talking out of my arse, well, the first few seconds of Neil Gaiman’s ad for his masterclass in writing also provided the perfect analogy of driving with one headlamp and hoping the editing will make people THINK you knew where the plot was going from the very start.

Getting caught up in the nitty gritty of the perfect prologue (for almost two years) did not allow me to craft the entirety of the story. Nor did it allow me much exploration of the characters and other important facets of the world. 

So, for those that are thinking of trying to write their own masterpiece, all I can say is start it as soon as the idea comes. And never waver. Sure, it might not be as good as you hoped, but all of that can be fixed later on. Also, never be afraid to look up synonyms on Google (or a thesaurus). 

But what I found helpful as well was to learn by reading widely. I mean, authors were published for a reason, right? Let them inspire you on your own writing journey. And question what you can make better.

“If I Ever Were to Lose You…”

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

As a huge fan of Naughty Dog, it should have come as no surprise that I bought The Last of Us Part II on day one. It mattered not that the plot had been leaked a month or so ago. Nor did I care how divisive the game was among the gaming community (honestly, I’m not sure what the exact reason is for the vitriol. The reasons are numerous, ranging from the fact that many believes Naughty Dog was pushing an agenda – if you played the Left Behind DLC, you would have known that Ellie was gay – or that Abby was not painted as a moustache-twirling villain). I loved the first game and I knew that I would appreciate the morally grey narrative that The Last of Us Part II promised. So, with the work day over, I journeyed once again through a post-apocalyptic United States of America.

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The Last of Us Part II begins with Joel returning to the town of Jackson. After a fraught conversation with his brother, Tommy, about what had happened at the end of the first game, he brings back a peace offering for Ellie: a guitar. From there, the game jumps forward in time by five years with Ellie waking up late and gently teased by her friend Jesse as they prepared for the day ahead.

I quite liked the first few moments of the game as I took in Jackson. It reminded me of the old west, what with a saloon, blacksmith and horses. But it also painted a more positive picture of the apocalypse, with children playing in the snow and building snowmen. Jackson was a flourishing community. Yes, it had its issues with Infected roving around the countryside, but there was a sense of camaraderie that the first game lacked.

It wasn’t long, however that the game switched to an unknown character: Abby. She had made her way down to Jackson with a group of her friends. It wasn’t made entirely clear what her objective was, initially, but it was revealed in her conversations with Owen that she was looking for someone.

The first part of the game played well – jumping from Ellie to Abby and back again during the course of the day. It all culminated when Abby runs into Joel and Tommy (stationed at the ski lodge) as she tries to dodge a horde of Infected. Joel and Tommy save her, but are too far away to make it to Jackson. Abby offers them shelter in the mansion that she is staying at with her friends. But once within, it is revealed that the person that Abby and her friends were searching for was Joel and that they were seeking revenge for what happened to the head surgeon that was killed at the end of The Last of Us. 

As Joel is being brutally tortured, Ellie learns that both Joel and Tommy have not checked in. With Dina and Jesse, she goes in search for them. Finally, she stumbles upon the mansion that Abby and her friends are residing in. Before she can rescue Joel, she is wrestled to the ground and witnesses Abby smashing Joel’s head in with a golf club –  leaving Ellie devastated and suffering from PTSD.

Thus, begins her quest for revenge as she heads to Seattle.

The initial moments of the game made it very easy to hate Abby. After all, most of us that picked up the title had played through the original and felt a tight connection with Joel and Ellie. While their actions throughout the first game bordered on morally questionable, they were the protagonists and who the players were able to control. In the world of the post-apocalypse with fungus zombies, it made a certain amount of sense that it was a dog-eat-dog world out in the wilderness. With Abby killing Joel, however, it felt like a line was crossed – making it very easy to slip into Ellie’s mindset of seeking revenge for the loss of her father-figure.

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After Ellie arrives in Seattle, finding Abby was no easy task. With the Seraphites and the WLF roaming the streets, Ellie was hard-pressed to find a non-violent solution. Particularly when many of the WLF and Seraphites were of the ‘shoot first, ask questions’ later mentality when it came to trespassers. It wasn’t long before Ellie started tracking down Tommy and the members of Abby’s party. But after an encounter at the Seattle Aquarium, Ellie decided to abandon her quest due to Dina’s declining health. As Ellie and her team prepared to go home, Abby manages to track them down at the theatre that they were staying in and ambushes them.

It was here that many players felt dismayed as the game jumped back again to the start of the three days in Seattle to explain Abby’s side of the story. Through flashbacks, the game revealed that her father was the head-surgeon that was killed by Joel. Years afterwards, Abby continued to suffer nightmares from what had happened. Seeing her story also shed light on how many of her team were suffering from guilt after what had happened in Jackson. This was particularly evident in Abby’s interactions with Mel.

Also, her relationship with Owen was both endearing and troubling. The flashbacks helped paint a picture of their relationship and the troubles that came from Abby’s devotion to training and Owen’s more hesitant approach to working with the WLF. Let’s also not forget how that at the end of Seattle Day One, Abby then slept again with her ex-lover. I mean really?  His current girlfriend is pregnant and the two you broke up more than a year ago. At least Abby was able to respect Mel’s wishes and decline Owen’s offer of going to Santa Barbara together.

I liked how it built up a complicated backstory for Abby and helped emphasise that she was not a cut-out copy of the mindless AI enemies that I often faced. It also helped me understand more of the WLF, though I found their compound in one of the old stadiums Seattle less impressive than the city that was built in Jackson.

Her quest to help her friend and then, two young Seraphites also placed in perspective that the world of The Last of Us carried very much an ‘us versus them’ mentality. Considering the fact that I was watching The 100 while playing only cemented the fact that everyone was looking out for ‘their people’ and screw everyone else. And while Yara and Lev helped break some of the prejudice Abby held against the Seraphites, there was also a sense that she was only helping them to alleviate the guilt that she had for her previous actions.

But after discovering the bodies of Owen and Mel, her anger resurfaces and she decides to hunt down those responsible. The fight with Ellie was difficult. Mostly because these were two young women who had many similarities and both were filled with hatred and loathing for the other. In the end, Abby won their first encounter and would have likely killed both Ellie and Dina had not Lev stepped in.

By the time the ending rolled around, however, it was easy to see how much Abby had changed as a prisoner of the Rattlers. She had lost weight and her hair was now a lot shorter than it had been. The confidence she had during the ten or so hours I played as her was gone. Instead, she seemed exhausted. It wasn’t much of a fight as an ongoing struggle between committing to the cycle of hatred or breaking away. After nearly successfully drowning Abby, Ellie decides to let both her and Lev go.

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Some might have thought that Ellie forgave Abby for what she did to Joel. I don’t. Rather, it seemed that Ellie came to the conclusion that taking an eye for an eye was not worth it. Particularly after she gave up the safe and happy lifestyle of living with Dina and JJ. This was also true for Abby. In fact, she did not want to fight and only did so when Ellie threatened to hurt Lev. Even then, the battle was half-hearted at best with Abby throwing haymakers that were far too easy to dodge.

The narrative of The Last of Us Part II is a poignant study into the human condition, hidden beneath a traditional tale of revenge. Like The Count of Monte Cristo, which was referenced in dialogue in Abby’s story, it demonstrates the devastating consequences of a person’s need to right the wrongs that were inflicted on the people involved. What many seemed to misunderstand about the game was the fact that there were no ‘good sides’ or ‘bad sides.’ Abby is not the monster that she was first portrayed as. Nor is Ellie like the heroines in the comics she liked to read and the trading cards she collected. 

They are all people, looking to survive. And that, perhaps, is what I liked about The Last of Us Part II. 

What I also liked about The Last of Part II was the setting. Having visited Seattle in the past, I was excited to see the aquarium – which I visited four years ago. While it didn’t seem to match up exactly with my memories of the place, I still found it exciting to recognise some of the landmarks – such as the Ferris Wheel.

Then there were the flashbacks to simpler times. I loved exploring the Natural History Museum of Wyoming and climbing atop the replica of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Ellie’s enthusiasm about astronauts also proved to be incredibly touching as she divulged everything she knew to Joel. 

And though some might consider that Naughty Dog was pushing an agenda by including Lev as a transgender male, I didn’t mind. In fact, it seemed very refreshing that people referred to Lev with the correct pronouns. Even if they were terrible slavers with Infected chained up as pets.

The gameplay also helped to heighten many aspects of the story-telling. This was particularly evident when it came to Abby and her fear of heights. I was fascinated at how just by looking down from a towering structure, Abby would begin to breathe more heavily as her fear took hold.

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Other than that, the combat systems were reminiscent of the first game. Stealth was key to surviving, although I much preferred controlling Ellie when it came to fighting the Infected. Mostly because of her unbreakable knife and the fact that she was able to craft Molotov cocktails. When playing as Abby, however, I was much more aggressive.

Overall, The Last of Us Part II wove an interesting narrative of revenge, justice and forgiveness. It might not have been what many fans wanted, but it was what we got. In our current times, it’s easy for people to construct a dichotomy between two opposing forces, but in life, that is hardly ever the case. While Naughty Dog did not break the mould when it came to the combat, it was still serviceable. The Last of Us Part II was fraught with moments of terror as I was being chased by Infected, but managed to soothe them with the humanising aspects of the characters. I suppose that was what made the game for me. The character development and the ability to explore a ravaged world while learning about the people that lived in it.

Now let’s just hope that COVID-19 won’t have the nasty side-effect of making all those that contracted it zombies.

On a side note: why was Abby so swole? I mean, there was nothing wrong with it, but I found myself distracted by her biceps and triceps.

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Time is an Egg

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

Following on from Alan Wake, I was ecstatic to see Quantum Break available on Steam. I’m not sure when they first became available but I was definitely going to buy it on sale. It didn’t matter that I had never owned an Xbox, I was now able to finally play a console exclusive that had interested me for years. With its time travel concept and two actors from the Animorphs franchise, I was eager to see where the journey would take me. Plus, Remedy was also trying to push the fold when it came to video by inserting a television show between major plot points. To many, it might have seemed like an overly long cutscene except with real actors. Akin, perhaps, to old full motion video. I, for one, was just excited to see if Remedy could manage to pull it off the perfect blend between video games and other forms of media.

In Quantum Break, players are put into the shoes of one Jack Joyce. After six years, he has returned to his hometown of Riverport after receiving a message from an old friend: Paul Serene. I loved the environmental storytelling as I navigated the university to meet my friend. The conversation with Amy Ferrero as well as the the posters decrying the aggressive purchasing of land from the shady Monarch company, all served to highlight an ongoing struggle between corporations and the history and culture of hardworking individuals.

It was not long before Jack arrived at the Physics Research Centre, where Paul Serene had set up his Project Promenade and the time machine hidden beneath. Unlike its depiction in other forms of media, time travel in Quantum Break is regarded as a loop. There are no branching timelines or alternate worlds being created. A person cannot go back in time to change the past. In addition, a person can only go as far back as when the time machine was first activated. So, there would be no visiting of dinosaurs or killing Hitler.

Quantum Break sticks to its guns that the past is immutable as it has already happened. But it also implies that when Paul travels to the future and witnesses the End of Time that this fact cannot be changed. Why? Because the event now lies in Paul’s past and defines his entire character arc.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

After Jack helps Paul in his less than legal demonstration, something goes wrong and time begins to fracture. He is joined by his brother and men from Monarch. They attempt to escape and in so doing, Jack discovers that he is imbued with time powers. He takes advantage of this, but cannot stop his brother from being crushed (or at least, that is what he thinks happens). From there, Jack is set on the path of stopping his old friend and restoring time.

On the way, he is joined by Beth Wilder and either Amy Ferrero or Nick Masters (depending on your choice when playing as Paul Serene during the first junction point). Speaking of these Junction Points, while they provide choice to the player, the end result is the same. The final confrontation between Jack and Paul is predetermined. None of the changes made to the game changed this fact. Whether the player chose a Hardline or PR approach, whether they trusted Hatch or Amaral – it did not matter. 

I suppose that made sense from the rules of the world and how the narrative set up the concept of time travel. Instead of spiralling into infinite worlds and alternate timelines, Quantum Break continued its spiel that time was a loop and that a character’s desire to change it would have only perpetuated the event that they were trying to stop. This was particularly evident when Beth was sent into the future and tried to kill Paul Serene during the End of Time. Or how despite warning the proper authorities, 9/11 still occurred.

It also meant that the ending for Quantum Break remained open-ended. The majority of the game is set in the year 2016. Paul, having seen the End of Time, knew that the catastrophic event would occur in 2021. However, as the events of Quantum Break unfold, it is clear that Paul’s estimate of the breaking of space-time as most people understood it, was happening much more quickly than predicted. So, when Jack was able to use the Countermeasure and stop the stutters, I waited for the other shoe to drop.

Sure enough, Quantum Break teased that there was more to the ending that met the eye. First of all, the interview styled questions that peppered the game were revealed to be at the end. Martin Hatch, who was shot in the eye, was back. Jack looked like he was seemingly joining up with Monarch. The ambiguous ending, thus, clearly hinted at a sequel and that Jack might have been the actual cause for the End of Time.

I also have a theory that Beth Wilder might actually still be alive despite being killed by Paul. How could she not have become chronon-active after being exposed to the Countermeasure in Ground Zero? 

Gameplay-wise, I very much enjoyed the aspect of controlling time. I was quite young when Blinx came out. But seeing that I owned a PlayStation, I never got to enjoy a romp with the cat that could control time. This time, I could stop enemies for a select few seconds as I peppered the air around them with bullets and then duck to cover by running as quick as the Flash. I loved these new ways to tackle combat as they presented something different than the usual third-person over-the-shoulder action that I was used to.

What disappointed me, though, about the game was streaming the live-action episodes. Always, I encountered buffering issues with the show stopping and starting. It didn’t matter how good my internet speed was, the connection with Remedy’s servers refused to work as I had hoped. 

The Quantum Ripples also proved disappointing because they only added a line or two of dialogue between characters. It never seemed to serve a greater purpose other than to appear as a fun Easter Egg.

I also dearly wanted Brooke Nevin and Shawn Ashmore to share a scene together. Alas, that never happened. At least in my playthrough of the game. The actors that played cousins in the Animorphs series never got to share a scene together. 

Gripes aside, I very much enjoyed the time I spent playing Quantum Break. The concept behind the narrative proved to just as intriguing when I was playing it as it had been in the trailer. While many mediums have explored time travel, this one was a much more interesting take on the premise. 

I also liked the ability to control time.There was no reversal and making different choices like in Life is Strange, but as a game mechanic, it definitely opened up new ways to navigate the environment and approach combat situations. Unfortunately, the choice of weapons at Jack’s disposal was less than imaginative.

Wild Child – A Fantasy Novel by Kyndaris

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

It’s taken quite a bit shorter than my first novel length fantasy story, but I’m still, nonetheless, proud of the world and characters I’ve created. As some of my previous posts alluded to, this is the first story in my Lacet and Idana series. I’ve already posted quite a few chapters now on FictionPress and I would like to invite my readers/ followers on my blog to take a gander at my more literary pursuits.

Writing things is never easy. And the editing process was a pain as well. For some reason, no matter how much I may wish to cut down, the word limit still seems to creep up. 

So, without further ado, here is my second novel length story. The first in a series. Who knows when the sequel will be written. I mean, I already have an idea, but after I finish editing Monsters Beneath Our Beds, it’s time to flex my creative muscles and try to write something a little more science thriller with a shady corporation as the main antagonist. 

Also, I’ve written this before the release of The Last of Us Part II and I am thoroughly excited for it. I’ve also just seen the PlayStation 5 event and I am loving the new games on display. So many things to play!! Let’s just hope that there won’t be so many delays. 

https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3347550/1/Wild-Child

For my WordPress followers, here’s a snippet of the prologue:

Lacet struggled to keep his eyes open as he suppressed a yawn, hoping it would end soon. Beneath him, the chair uttered a loud squeak as he shifted his weight. The master of ceremonies stopped, scanning the crowd of sixty graduates and their families, his eyes narrowed to slits. Unable to find the perpetrator, he cleared his throat and continued to drone on in his deep baritone. It was the same old speech that Lacet had heard a thousand times before. If he was not thanking the founders of the Academy, the dean would show his appreciation for ‘all the hard work that they had put in over the years of their study’ as he vaguely addressed the recent round of scholastic achievements within their cohort.

It was far more interesting, by far, Lacet had found, to simply study all the contours of the black robe that trailed behind the lectern or count the individual blades of grass on the quadrangle lawn of the new college.

Then again, perhaps he shouldn’t have been up all night, tinkering with the little clockwork machines he had purchased just over a week ago at one of the many stalls in the bustling marketplace. But he had wanted to celebrate the freedom he had in spades now that exams were over. And while his marks had not been top of the class, Lacet had been pleasantly surprised by his results. Revision had been gruelling but he was finally reaping what he had sown all those months before.

Besides, drinking until early morning and waking up with a splitting headache was not his idea of fun. Better to leave that to many of the others in his dormitory, he had thought as he closed the door with a soft click just before midnight. Like the one in the back row that had a pair of darkened eyepieces.

“—is why I would like to call on Marus to come up on stage.”

There followed a polite round of applause. Reluctantly, Lacet clapped along with the others, a heavy scowl contorting his features. He had known Marus back when they were still toddlers still learning how to walk upright. For years they had been as close as two peas in the same pod, causing mischief for the matron and the other orphans.

Yet when they had enrolled at the Academy, Marus had soon distanced himself from both his past and childhood playmate. In the highly competitive environment of the Academy, Marus’s gifts had flourished. As had his ambitions. Lacet could barely recognise his friend and brother. It sickened him to watch as Marus stepped up to the dais, beaming with pride and ready to deliver a speech that had, most likely, been written and approved by one of the more obnoxious staff members.

Lacet barely listened as Marus began to speak, his thoughts turning to the rumours he had heard in the dormitories about the several lucrative scholarships that had been offered to the valedictorian of their class. Had he been younger, Lacet might have felt the sting of envy.

Over the years, however, Lacet had found that his bitterness had lessened. In the last two years, he had also learned that constantly comparing himself with Marus had not been helpful or even healthy. As long as he put in the hard work, Lacet had found that his own accomplishments were nothing to sneeze at. True, they might not net him a position as a court mage but he already had the necessary funding to open up shop in a small town. If he played his cards right, he could make an honest living.

Fame, in any case, had never sat well with him. To be hounded every day sounded like a nightmare. Better to live far away from the hustle and bustle of city life, decided Lacet as Marus extolled the virtues of their educators or some other such nonsense. At the very least he would not be privy to all the grandstanding and hidden politics that had so quickly disabused him of seeking a life in the capital.

Now it was simply a matter of finding where in the rural countryside to settle. Somewhere close to the orphanage, for one. Although, if he thought about it, it would be nice if his home was somewhere in the southern mountain ranges where the air was fresh…

Lacet startled awake at the sound of his name. He heard his name called out a second time and hastily rose to his feet, a little sheepish. Many of the other students already on stage frowned in his general direction. Off to the right of the lectern was Marus, standing as stiff as a board, a fake smile plastered on his face and his gaze fixed to the assembled parents.

Figures, snorted Lacet. The Golden Boy of the Academy had a pristine image to maintain. He wondered if it would be worth it to upend this special day by doing something regrettable. Before he could give the prospect much thought, a sharp reminder to his ribs bade Lacet move. Like a recalcitrant child, he shuffled down the aisle, smoothing his crinkled robes so that he might be deemed presentable.

When he finally stepped up on stage, though, he was a bundle of nerves. It felt as if all eyes were focused on him. Palms slick with sweat, Lacet forced his feet to take one step after the other. Any thoughts he had earlier to sabotage the ceremony and scarpering into the nearby park flew clean out of his thoughts. He wanted it to be perfect. Like how the the others, no doubt, had envisioned.

As he passed Marus, a hand reached and grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip.

“Marus,” said Lacet, giving his former friend a shallow nod as he forced a smile to his lips. “Congratulations on being selected as valedictorian. You deserve it after all the work you put into this. Good things come to those that prove themselves, as they say.”

“Thank you, Lacet. Your words mean much and I wish only that the same could have been said for you, old friend.” He paused and for the first time in a long while looked at a loss for words. A brief moment passed before he managed to gather himself.  “Now, I hope you hear great things from you in the near future. Don’t be afraid to reach out. Before you know it, it’ll be the two of us against the world.”

“I’ll take that into consideration. Truth be told, I’m simply happy that I managed to pass. And that Amoleth blessed us with such a beautiful day. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s the matter of my diploma that needs attending to.”

“Right, right,” said Marus, releasing him. “Well then, Lacet, it’s been a pleasure.”

Free to continue, it was not long before he was standing before the unsmiling dean. “I hope I do not have to remind you, young Lacet, that anything you pull today will be punished severely.”

Though the dean was several inches shorter than him, Lacet could not help but quail beneath the man’s imperious gaze. Nervously, he licked his lips. “It won’t happen again, sir.”

“Well, considering that this is your graduation, I sincerely hope not. It would be a shame if I had to hold you back a year,” said the dean as he shook Lacet’s hand and handed him his diploma. It was sealed in such a way that only he could open it, for it was his name etched in gold lettering on the top. “Now, enjoy this day for as long as it lasts.”

It was disconcerting to see how quickly the grin spread across the man’s face. When the dean slapped. But Lacet soon discovered one of his very own that stretched his lips wide as he joined the others after the dean had slapped him affectionately on the back. The excitement was infectious. He had done it! They all had. After what had been a difficult year, they had all managed to see it through.

There was little time to ruminate further. Within moments, they were asked by one of the staff to huddle close together. Caught up in the moment, he cared not that he was near blinded when the bulb flashed. This was something to be properly commemorated. It was not everyday that he would be graduating from one of the most esteemed educational institutions on the whole continent!

When he, at last plonked down on his seat, Lacet found himself exhausted. The energy that had fuelled him mere moments ago had deserted and bled him dry. How was he going to endure the closing speech? Goddess above, but he did not envy Marus one bit as he watched the valedictorian return once more to the lectern.

As Marus thanked those in attendance, Lacet’s thoughts turned to the fete that would be waiting in the dormitory mess hall. Roast boar or turkey, pumpkin pies and salads of middling quality. Of course, it would not be as grand a banquet as what the matron might cook up had she still been alive.

He smiled at the memory of the matron. No parent could have been as proud as she had been when the letters had arrived at their rundown orphanage, inviting both he and Marus to enrol at the Academy. It had been a surprise to all involved and the matron had been both ecstatic and hesitant. None of the other orphans she had looked after had even a drop of magic in their blood.

At first, she had been resistant to the idea. It had always been her intention to find good families for the many children that had lost their parents to the pandemic that had struck years past. After some persuading, mostly from Marus, she had acquiesced. The real problem, though, was the matter of coin. There was simply not enough to send both him and Marus to the capital. Lacet knew that the matron had endured many a sleepless night as she tried to balance the books, calling in favours from the less savoury characters in their neighbourhood in order to send them away.

And now they were expected to forge their own path in the world. It was all so dizzying, seeing how quickly the world that he knew could change.

Lacet made a mental note to visit the orphanage and the grave. It was the least he could do after all the years he had been bequeathed a roof over his head, a warm bed to sleep in and good food to fill his stomach. Mayhap once he had established himself as a reputable apothecary, he could even send the children little toys and gifts, or donate what coin he could.

Pleased with his more immediate plans for the future, Lacet listened with half an ear to the rest of the lengthy speech that Marus had painstakingly prepared.

What Dreams are Made Of

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

As many of you know, the Yakuza series is a game franchise that is often regarded for being a serious crime drama. The first game focused on a diabolical plot to undermine the Tojo Clan when $10 billion yen went missing from their coffers. Yakuza 2 was focused on a brewing altercation between the East and the West, with a Korean mafia thrown into the mix. Often, the games would explore concepts of kinship, honour and second chances as players got to experience the underbelly of Japan. Yakuza 5 follows in this tradition by maintaining an over the top plot filled with drama and intrigue. But, for many, this game was often seen as the one with the weakest narrative. Instead of being focused solely on the criminals, it introduced two new playable characters: Haruka Sawamura, as she strives to become an idol, and Tatsuo Shinada, a washed-up baseball player that writes for an erotic magazine in the heart of Nagoya.

Just like in Yakuza 4, the story of Yakuza 5 is split into different arcs, culminating in the finale where the threads are tied together in a neat bow. While I questioned the disparate stories for each of the characters, I could not help but acknowledge how clever the writers were in maintaining a singular theme across all five of the parts.

Dreams.

Whether that meant Kiryu giving up managing Morning Glory so that his kids could live out their hidden desires to Saejima hoping to one day be free of the prison and take his rightful place as a leading officer for the Tojo Clan, this theme is carried throughout. By the end of Haruka/ Akiyama’s and Shinada’s arc, I felt I had been beaten over the head by how many times they mentioned how dreams are passed on from person to person. Even Haruka’s song in Japan Dome pounded this message with as much subtlety as a sledgehammer.

What irritated me, though, in regards to the story were the twists and misunderstandings that could have been easily solved with BETTER COMMUNICATION. Why some characters never reveal their motives will remain a mystery for me, but I suppose there needs to be a contrived situation where the player can go into an epic battle. Like the battle with Shinada and Baba at the end of the game. Was any of that really necessary? Baba had already chosen NOT to shoot Haruka. 

The fight between Majima and Saejima also came out of the blue. And Katsuya, for having a crane on your back, why did you feel it necessary for everyone to duke it out just to draw out the ‘real mastermind’? 

I also disliked how Aizawa crept out of the shadows and inserted himself into the final battle. His sudden reveal as the son of the main antagonist was truly uninspired. I would have preferred if Morinaga had played more of a role in the Finale instead of being name dropped by the Florist as now residing in the basement of the Tokyo Police Department.

By the way, what was with the convoluted method of trying to keep Saejima in prison and then springing him out? None of that made much sense. Also, why did the guard allow two inmates out to rescue a third escaped convict? The less that is said about this plot thread the better, I say. Although I did find it amusing when Saejima was forced to tussle with a bear. It made no sense, true, but now we can add Bear Wrangler to his list of skills.

Still, despite my gripes with the story, I thoroughly enjoyed the time I spent in Yakuza 5. Perhaps it was that more time had gone into developing this entry. The UI and textures were crisper. It clearly felt more of an upgrade from Yakuza 3 than Yakuza 4 did. The controls also saw a bit of improvement, though initially it felt as if my unarmed attacks weren’t hitting as hard as I had hoped. 

What was also admirable was the amount of time and energy spent in the side stories. Some of these were excellent diversions. Driving a taxi, lawfully, proved to be actually fun. Although people dashing out onto the road at the very last minute do deserve to be hit. Why would you run out? Are you idiots?

I also liked hunting on the mountain with Saejima. The shooting mechanics were not the best, but it was nice to see something a little different from punching thugs. In fact, there was actually quite a nice ‘look after the environment’ message in both Yakuza 4 and Yakuza 5 that I found somewhat amusing for a game that was all about hard-boiled criminals.

Then there was Haruka’s idol mini-game. Her story arc was probably the most confusing because none of the previous games had hinted at her interest in becoming an idol. Yakuza 2 even had a substory where she dismissed the idea. Of course, by game’s end, Haruka decided that after debuting, she would destroy her career as soon as it began by revealing that she was raised by a yakuza. This, probably, was probably the most contrived of the story lines that were in the game. 

Shinada’s side story, though, passed by quickly. It also felt like it focused very much on a minigame that I never touched much of in the previous games: baseball. Now, I’m no slouch when it comes to batting – having been on a softball team during high school, but oft times I found the timing in video games a bit harder to perfect. In any case, though, Shinada’s side story made hitting the ball a lot easier than in previous games. The controls did take some getting used to. By the end of it, however, I was smashing home runs left, right and centre.

Despite a confusing plot, I was enamoured by all the additional activities Yakuza 5 offered. I spent many hours trying to get Haruka to the top of the idol business and racing along highways. Some might see such things as distractions but I’ve always been of the view that taxi missions or hunting in the mountains actually add more to the game and characters. I can’t say if Yakuza 5 is my favourite game from the franchise, but I know that a lot of people poured their hearts and souls into it, and I’ll carry that dream forward.

Phoning It In

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

As an introvert, the current COVID-19 situation has not ruffled much of my feathers. There has been no gradual descent into insanity. Nor have I clawed at the windows or doors, hoping to leave the confines of my house. In fact, I’ve continued to plug away at all my favourite hobbies: writing, watching Netflix/ YouTube, reading incredibly thick novels and playing video games. Who needs social interaction when I am validated by the silence of the internet? 

So, it came as a mystery when I reached out to my friends on Facebook Messenger, checking in on them after months of inactivity. Perhaps I was curious how they were holding out in the current climate. Or maybe I was lonely and wanted some actual human contact. True, we wouldn’t be able to physically touch even if we caught up, but at least I wouldn’t be constantly living in my quarantine bubble.

To cut a long story short, after initiating the conversation, my friends thought it was best to see each other in the meat space. I immediately groaned. While it would have been nice to actually see more than just my colleagues at work, I would have to drive to someone else’s house? What about my gaming? Or the long journey back? 

Reluctantly, I agreed. And so I waited for the weekend with dread. Yet, before D-Day, one of the other friends said that they were too tired to physically visit. They worked on the front lines as an essential worker. It made sense that they would be drained from work – particularly as they would be finishing up at 2pm. A part of me rejoiced. If this fell through, I would be able to stay in the four walls of my house. And be able to play my video games.

Alas, we were able to figure out an alternate solution to an actual meat space meeting. With the advent of technology and numerous software applications, we were able to hold a video call. No Zoom or Skype for us, though. We held our meeting on Discord. After much hewing and hawing as we waited for the fourth member (it turned out she decided to nap after returning home from work and did not check her phone until much later), we began in earnest around 3.30pm.

Though we had initially wanted to watch a movie together, it devolved instead into trying to sing karaoke with a time lag and playing games such as Jackbox. It also afforded us the opportunity to see each other and catch up on what was going with each of our lives. This was different, of course, than visiting each other’s islands on Animal Crossing. There would be no colourful representations in our villagers. What we had was the unvarnished truth.

I also discovered why some people in South Korea actually preferred to livestream eating. There was a nice sense of companionship watching my friend eat as I ate. Sharing dinner, despite the distance between us, actually helped me feel less alone in the world.

And so, I actually enjoyed myself. Even though my gaming time was cut short. It was nice to see my friends after three months of keeping away. Once we had enjoyed ourselves for most of the afternoon and long into night, we made a promise to see each other again on a more regular basis through video conferences. Whether or not we keep to that promise is an entirely different matter entirely. Still, I can’t wait for the next event.

I will, however, need to invest in a proper gaming chair and streaming camera if I ever wanted to create a Twitch channel. 

Banana Life

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

Growing up as a Chinese-Australian has had its ups and downs over the years. There has always been a bit of a cultural divide with how my parents have viewed things and how I’ve perceived such matters. In fact, I remember many a fight when I was younger and hated the thought of going to Chinese School every Saturday. Now that I’m older, though, I appreciate the fact that I’m bilingual (I still can’t read Chinese as well as my mother would have hoped, but at least I can tell where the train station is). 

But I often count myself among the more fortunate ones when it comes to being the target of racist attacks. There has never been one singular event when someone has told me to ‘go back to where I came from.’ Nor has anyone physically assaulted me based on my appearance.

In saying that, I have often bristled when people ask me again where I’m from. As if my answer: Australia is not enough. If you wish to know my ethnicity, then be more direct. Unless, of course, you wish to see my birth certificate? I know that some people are curious and want to find a way to bond about their experience in an Asian country, but there are better ways to phrase a question rather than going with a blunt: so, where are you from?

I’ve also never liked when people come up to me and say ‘Ni Hao.’ Yes, I know I’m Chinese-Australian and understand the words, but for all you (a relative stranger) know, I might not know a lick of Chinese at all. What if I was sixth generation and never grew up learning the language? What if I was actually Vietnamese, Japanese or Korean? Malaysian or Singaporean? How about Thai, Indonesian or Filipino? 

Actually, when I was in the small country town of Leeton, I did have a gaggle of girls approach me and say ‘Konnichiwa.’ Perhaps they saw a great number of tourists in that area and assumed I was one of them. I never actually got to the bottom of why they addressed me in Japanese, but I was greatly puzzled. A simple ‘G’day’ would have sufficed. It isn’t as if I approach all Caucasians and start going ‘buongiorno’ or ‘top of the morning.’

Then there have been the subtle times when I was at university and handed Free English lessons pamphlets. Why me? There were plenty of international students from Europe that might have been struggling with English. But because I looked different, many people assumed that I was an international student. One time, I asked one of these good Samaritans if it sounded like I needed Free English lessons. And do I speaker da good English. They quickly learned their error. Although, they then followed me up half the street trying to convert me to Christianity. 

Over the years, though, and in more recent months, I’ve read plenty of articles and stories where people have discriminated against people that look like me. People, who, like me, have grown up in the West and often struggle with belonging as we straddle two worlds. Our values are not the same as our parents and yet, we don’t look white enough to be considered ‘true blue Aussies.’ As my mother loved to say – and which was repeated in Crazy Rich Asians – we’re bananas. 

One of my friends said that in the UK, East Asians are one of the smallest minorities there. Here in Australia, we’re one of the largest. Just like in the United States of America, we’re a model for all other ethnic minorities. Most of us studied hard in school, to the detriment of our mental health. We’re good at mathematics. We’ve also prove to be invaluable employees in the work place. And our parents have often hoped that we land an excellent job that pays well: accountant, lawyer, doctor or engineer. 

Most of us have also learned to play a music instrument. Some of us love anime with a passion. Others have dived down deep into the world of Korean Dramas. And a lot fell in love with a film that finally put us on the big Hollywood screen. Representation matters. Even as we’ve remained mostly silent in our achievements after decades of being regarded as the ‘yellow peril’ or ‘Asian invasion.’

COVID-19 has proved thoroughly that despite the great strides Western society has made in being more inclusive, many people are still mired by their prejudice. People have graffiti-ed and vandalised houses in the suburbs of Melbourne. They’ve made disparaging comments under their breath whilst in earshot of Asian Australian in shopping markets. Elsewhere, we have been attacked and told that we’re a disease.

Now, let me be clear. None of this has happened to me personally. And yet, reading these stories, I often fear what might happen should I ever find myself in such a situation. When I was younger, I often thought I’d retort with the fact that if they told me to ‘go back to where I came from,’ I’d simply do the same. Australia has always been a migrant country. All of us came via boat or plane if they’ve traced their ancestry as far as it can go. Maybe that was the First Fleet or as convicts. But just because you’ve settled and claimed the land that we’re on for longer than me and my family, that doesn’t give you the right to say that I’m not who I say I am: an Australian.

As I’ve grown older, though, I’ve realised that trying to reason with these people doesn’t always work. And trying too hard might mean risking getting burnt. In Life is Strange 2, trying to stick to my values only had Sean Diaz bullied into finally singing a song in Spanish for fear that he would be assaulted.

Even little comments can hurt, even when they’re said in jest.

I remember at around the start of the current COVID-19 crisis, a colleague once asked me if I ate bats. At the time, it was believed that the virus had been transmitted in a wet market in Wuhan by eating bats. I said ‘no.’ And then proceeded to list a number of things I have never eaten: snakes, shark fin, dog…the list went on. Of course, I knew it was all in good fun and teased her back by asking if she ate frog legs or escargot. It gradually evolved into a conversation about the different types of food that was enjoyed around the world. But that first assumption also stung and made me question how the people around me viewed this little Chinese-Australian trying to make her way in the world. 

Yet even when it’s not others trying to put us down, some of our fellows are coming up with conspiracy theories. In my badminton group, one of the players said that COVID-19 stood for something more sinister than just corona virus disease. They said that it was an acronym which stood for China Output Virus in December 2019.

Social distancing restrictions are now easing around the world. I know many are looking forward to going out and meeting up with friends without having the fear of disease and death hovering over their shoulder. There is always the concern that lifting quarantine will lead to more outbreaks. But, what I’m scared of most of all, is when someone sees me and decides that it’s my fault COVID-19 was brought in Australia, though it’s been years since I’ve been to China. And then begins to attack me: either verbally or physically just because of what I look like.