Opening Up Your World

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

Back when I was a penniless high school student, there were these twins I knew at Chinese school who tried to introduce me to a little known Nintendo DS game with, what they thought, had some excellent art aesthetic. Curious, I managed to find the elusive game. And for a couple of minutes, I took it out for a spin – wondering whether it would pique my interest. Though it was colourful and looked to have an intriguing story, the confusing controls and my assumption that each mission would have a real-life countdown saw me put it aside in order to finish off other quality games such as the Ace Attorney series and Pokemon Ranger. 

This game was called The World Ends With You.

Fast forward a decade later and the niche cult hit was announced for the Switch. After encountering Neku and the others in Kingdom Hearts 3D: Dream Drop Distance, I decided to pick the game up. Again. And after hearing many good things about the game over the years, and now with more time on my hands because I was a full-grown adult that had control of my own life, I thought it best to enjoy the things that I had to give up due to my studies.

The World Ends With You centres on Neku Sakuraba. Despite his vivid imagination, he is a solitary denizen of Shibuya. Headphones over his ears, he wants to shut the whole world out. One day, he wakes up to find that he’s trapped in a game of life and death. The only way to win is to partner with another of the ‘players’ and survive seven days. 

It’s a simple premise but its simplicity belies the depth with regards to story and the game mechanics themselves. Over the course of the game, Neku is able to connect with others and broadens his view of the world. In a society where we often strive to tune out the myriad of people all around us – mostly by staring at our phones – it’s a poignant message despite the fact that The World Ends With You was released in 2007. We have become so insular and our social media feeds have become echo chambers of our own perceptions that we often forget that there are others out there. They might have different views or an understanding of how the world works. But just because it is not the same does not mean we should invalidate their opinion or their thoughts.

Only by coming together, by sharing ideas, can we truly grow and become better people. Everyone is different. And that is a good thing.

Look at how many other games that have explored the concept of a society that is uniform. In Tales of Berseria, emotions were stripped from the denizens because negativity spawned demons. But to do so also stripped people of their free will. What about Assassin’s Creed? The conflict with the Templars is all about whether order should reign or freedom. What I liked about the most recent entry: Odyssey was the fact that both were required to keep the balance.

I found it an intriging theme to explore and days afterwards began to wonder about the similarities and differences I shared with my common commuter on the train. We build all these walls around us but a potential friend could just be beside you. Yet, you might never be able to explore that opportunity when wrapped up in your own thoughts that are all focused internally.

As for the combat, the Switch version of The World Ends With You, throws aside the dual screens. Instead, players are just required to control Neku. Armed with pins, Neku uses the power of psyches to damage the Noise. These are remnants of Souls that are used by the Reapers to attack players. In the secret reports, they are often used as a tool to whittle down the prospective candidates. One pin could grant Neku the ability to summon fire. Another might allow him to throw cars at the enemy. 

Each one can be activated by slashing at the screen, pressing and holding a specific button or by dragging Neku himself. I found that those that were easily implemented the best in my playthrough due to the fact that I was also battling with the motion controls on the Switch. While The Worlds Ends With You can be played undocked, the fact that I was so terrible at putting on the screen protector meant that I kept it docked and made do.

Initially, I had issues with the constant drifting. After a couple of hours, though, I managed to familiarise myself adequately enough with the controls. That and a few choice pins saw me through to the end of all three weeks, giving me a new series to fall in love with.

I also want to give a shout-out to the soundtrack. While I’m not sure if it would be as relevant in the future as it was when the game first came out, it suited the style of the world. The voice acting was also enjoyable and I loved the little mannerisms that came through of each partner’s personality during combat.

Though The World Ends With You can be a little unorthodox in its execution, the message within is just as prevalent now as it was when it was first released. Perhaps even more so as we descend into the digital age. The only puzzles that remain were: how did Shiki know so much about the rules when she first partnered with Neku? Did Hanekoma provide her some context before she headed to the statue of Hachiko about the game or were all players briefed on the rules before they woke up in Shibuya and that knowledge was also stolen from Neku as part of his price? Also…does Neku just have really good hearing or is the noise cancellation on his head phones simply terrible?

Handcuffs not Included

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

Just recently, a friend and I were having a quick look through the bargain bin at the local newsagent. We were on the search for any tantalising titles that I could bring back home to read. Though fantasy did not make an appearance, there were several excellent pieces from the thriller and crime genres. From the likes of Robert Ludlum to Jo Nesbo. And while I was tempted to pick them up, the thought of adding to my ever-growing pile of shame helped put a stopper to my plans.

Still, that did not deter us from casting judgement on the other books that were waiting to be snatched up by any would-be reader. As we flicked through each title, I could not help but snatch one out from the pile. Flipping it over, I began reading the blurb aloud – delighted to give voice to the scandalous contents therein. What is it about these novels with their half-naked men and jaw-dropping descriptions, which would make even the hardiest of criminals blush, that make people buy them by the dozen? And here was I, an aspiring writer, with ideas flying left, right and centre – struggling to make a dent with the Fictionpress audience. It was enough for me to take a step back and wonder what I was doing wrong. Surely no publisher worth their weight in salt would ever think of putting more stories that were in the vein of Fifty Shades of Grey out into the wild…right?

I mean, yes, there is a market for it but why would anyone ever deign to buy a physical copy with such salacious material where anyone on public transport could see? Did they not feel uncomfortable reading about their characters doing questionable acts right where any John Doe could glance over their shoulder and summarily judge them for their choice of book? I, for one, would almost definitely raise an eyebrow (but most likely two since I don’t have the ability to do just one) if I saw someone with Tara Sue Me’s latest in hand. No offence to Tara Sue Me. You keep doing you!

Even when I decide that it would be a good idea to revisit Fanfiction.net or Archive of Our Own, I tend to keep most of the lemons that I occasionally skim through easily alt-tabbed out of or quickly minimised should my mother walk in. It’s simply not something that anyone would outright advertise. Nor is it advisable to tell your friends where your proclivities are. None of them need to know that you enjoyed reading Dumbledore and Harry Potter slash fiction. Or Severus Snape with Hermione Granger (although, surprisingly, this is actually quite a popular pairing). 

Of course, not all books come with the forewarning that they contain explicit material. In my youth, I was an avid reader of all things fantasy. In Year 8, I managed to get my hands on Traci Harding, an Australian author, who wrote the Ancient Future trilogy – wherein main character Tory somehow travels through time whilst near some old ruins in the United Kingdom.

Fast forward a couple of months and I was on the bus with many of my school friends. Being the introvert that I was, I had my head buried in the latest series by the renowned author: Gene of Isis. Just as I reached one of the chapters – I believe which was titled ‘Seduction’ – one of my friends decided to take a quick sneak peek at what had me enthralled. 

To my horror, she began reading the passage aloud. And for a good many years would not let me live it down that I was reading something so risque where anyone could see. 

In my defence, I did not know that something was going to go down. Many of the other authors I had read before generally just glossed over the ‘act.’ Or perhaps I simply never quite appreciated exactly what was happening. I suppose that’s what happens when you read the Black Magician trilogy in the final year of primary education. It’s probably why I never felt all that invested in Akkarin and Sonea as a pairing back then. I mean…they had a thirteen year age gap. And I was only twelve at the time. Which I suppose is actually better than Auraya and Leiard (revealed to be Mirar).

Anyways, that’s beside the point.

The point is that after reading a few titillating paragraphs (and having a few laughs at the language that was used), I returned the books back to the bargain bin and we spent an enjoyable afternoon flipping through the history magazines. Better to be considered a history buff than being given an odd look by the person behind the counter. 

In Mother Russia…

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

Following on right after Far Cry: New Dawn, I thought it best to start on the next post-apocalyptic game starring a train (although in this title, it would have a much more prominent role instead of being derailed in the first cutscene). Metro Exodus  is the third game in the series, based on the books written by Dmitry Glukhovsky. While the first two games were focused on the exploits of Artyom (the protagonist) in the Moscow underground, this time round, his adventures would take him from the ruins of the Russian capital across the entire breadth of Russia to the likes of the Caspian Sea and Novosibirsk.

Though Metro: Last Light had two endings, Exodus is a continuation from the good one where Artyom survives the battle of D6. After hearing voices on the radio, Artyom is convinced that other people have survived the War and the residents of the Metro are not the only survivors. The others, however, are not so easily convinced. In order to affirm his suspicions, Artyom makes frequent visits to the irradiated surface, hoping to replicate the phenomena and lead his people back under the sun. On one such occasion, he is ambushed by Watchmen. Wounded, he is recovered by his Spartan Order allies and tended to. Told that his trips are an exercise in futility and reeling from his near-death experience, Artyom reluctantly relents. At least for a time. Weeks pass and after making a full recovery, he once more takes to the surface. This time, with his wife, Anna.

As they scour the ruins of the city, they see a moving train. Following after it, it is not long before they are captured by the Hansa. There, they meet two strangers from outside the city limits, who are then subsequently killed. Surviving his own execution, Artyom crawls from the pit of dead bodies and soon uncovers a conspiracy that has kept the denizens of Moscow in the dark with regards to the war – as well as keeping the outside world ignorant that there were survivors in the Russian capital. It isn’t long before he and Anna escape from the city, the Spartan Order in tow – first as a means to clear their names with the top brass that had, presumably survived the nuclear attack on Russia. When it turns out that the officials and workers at the base in Yamantau have resorted to cannibalism, they depart to look for a place free from radiation and where their children can be raised on the surface rather than underground.

While the overarching narrative is quite simple, Metro Exodus quite deftly uses many smaller moments to provide an enriching experience – not withstanding, of course, some of the questionable voice acting. Things such as the wedding between Stepan and Katya, or the conversations that you can partake in as you wander through the Aurora. Every single character has something to contribute – whether they are hints about the next mission or simply to add flavour. The only downside here was, of course, Nastya’s voice and Artyom’s perpetual desire to be silent. Though he narrates the beginning of each chapter, he is strangly silent throughout the rest of the game. There’s quite a bit of dissonance when you hear him worry about Anna’s deteriorating health but then have him say nothing at all when she breaks out into a coughing fit. Or when another character monologues at him. Come on, Artyom. If you already have a voice actor then it should make sense to actually respond to the questions peppered at you by your fellow compatriots.

There were also many familiar tropes at play as well. Rather than double down on the supernatural Dark Ones, Metro Exodus focused more on the human condition such as the depravities and lust for power that eventuates without law and order. But also the selfless instincts many have when it comes to seeing our common man in dire need of assistance. This is also reflected in the game’s two endings.

For those familiar with first-person shooters, Metro Exodus introduces very little in terms of change. While I had some issues with the controls initially, I managed to adjust it so that the game played much more smoothly on console. Like the other games in the series, Exodus minimises much of the user interface. There is no compass in the upper right corner pointing to where you need to go. Instead, players will need to rely on the map and the compass placed therein to point one towards the required destination. For me, personally, it was a great way to take in the surroundings and explore a little without constantly staring at a minimap in the corner of the television screen.

By building upon the foundations of what came before, Metro Exodus proved to be a well-rounded game that had me scrambling for scattered journal pages and little postcards. Though I did not manage to find all of the hidden collectibles scattered around the world, I did gain a greater appreciation of post-apocalypse Russia. Rather than stay in the bleak world of the Moscow underground, Exodus took a chance and moved the series into much more colourful locales. Whether or not this is the final entry in the series has yet to be seen but I felt satisfied at how the ending neatly tied up the loose threads that had been introduced in the first few hours and provided a sense of fulfillment. 

Living the Lie

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

Throughout my life, I’ve always watched as others raced ahead. It hasn’t been easy. Keeping my head above the surface of the ocean known as life. Every moment, I fear a wave crashing down on me, or when my strength fails and I stop treading water. Worst of all is when you see people posting up their picture-perfect lives and outstanding achievements on social media when you’re all but drowning in a dead-end job that had nothing to do with your degree or the hopes you fostered as a young child.

No one needs to reminded of their failures. So, please take your bullshit and spam it on someone else’s wall. And don’t, for the love of God, downplay it in your bid for the most likes! I can tell when someone’s fishing for compliments and I won’t abide by it.

You might be wondering where all this vitriol stems from. The answer is simple. It comes from a deep well of antipathy and frustration. Of being listless and rudderless. Of having no aspirations when you graduated high school at the top of your class and watched as all your dreams were dashed against the rocks of reality before they even had the chance to bloom.

No. This is no fairy tale full of happy ever afters. This is reality. This is truth. Where those with direction and purpose are able to find fulfilment while their silent and unsuccessful counterparts fall prey to their insecurities or keep it tightly tucked away under lock and key. And then suffer the repercussions with sleepless nights before they turn towards drink or prescription drugs to ease their suffering.

It was not always like this, you know.

I remember a childhood filled with dreams. Of jumping between obsessions as if they were Halloween costumes. One day, I fancied myself an esteemed surgeon of some repute. Another would see me shredding tunes on my plastic guitar.

None of that was enough to prepare my young self for the despair and doubt and fear involved with surviving in a world that does not have your back. And which is always eagerly anticipating your fall into destitution.

Because the fact of the matter is: no one cares. No one ever will. You’re just another number falling through the cracks of welfare. A bottom-feeder trying to wring what’s left from the upstanding, proper tax-paying civilians.

Over the years, in order to survive this cruel world, I’ve clung to whatever job that came my way. Lived pay cheque to pay cheque. Constantly concerned with what the future held and green with envy with the respectable lives of my friends.

It was enough for anyone to contemplate the unthinkable.

The entire world owed me. And if I wanted to live in this world of unfamiliar faces and sacks of meat with their wallets full to bursting, I would need to take everything that I wanted, consequences be damned!

~

The job I had in mind was simple in concept. It was the execution that turned out to be my downfall, as you’ll soon learn.

At the time, I thought my plan was full-proof. I would use others just like me. The downtrodden. The world weary. But even the most meticulous and well-laid ideas can fall through.

Much as it did in this instance, considering that I’m penning this even as I await my final verdict at court. But neither the judge nor the jury will delay me from my magnum opus. This will be my final piece of work before oblivion greets me after the next few hours. The weight on my shoulders is unbearable but press on, I must.

~

It started off as innocuous as could be. I was the perfect friend, eager to help. And so, when my friends were putting down for mortgages and then taking expensive holidays overseas, they would invite me to house-sit. It was a simple task and some of them even bothered to bequeath me with gifts for taking some time out of my week to look after their precious belongings.

Slowly and surely, though I am loath to admit it, I became greedy. Seeing all the things that they had but I did not, sparked something in me. They did not know it, but I would squirrel away trinkets that I knew would not be missed. Maybe a Rolex here, or a few hundred dollars that they had hidden underneath the mattress. It was so easy and simple. And none of them the wiser.

But as the years dragged on, I found myself grow ever more listless. What was the whole point of living? Everything was all so routine. Nothing could surprise me. And with that came the dread of waking up every morning, knowing that life was meaningless.

There was some trouble at work.

To numb myself from it all, I started drinking. First, it would be a bottle of beer with my co-workers every Friday night. Then, it would be two shots of whiskey every night. I knew that I had a problem when I was chugging down three cans of piss-poor beer just so that I could function for the day ahead.

It came as no surprise when the severance package came. I took it, hoping it would be enough to pay my overdue bills as well as indulge in my alcoholism.

Gradually, though, I realised that trying to drown my doubts solved nothing. The peace I sought was a lie. If I wanted to make something of myself, I had to act.

Two years it took me. Until I finally landed an enviable sales position at one of the leading security firms in the entire city. Though I had my fair share of problems, it was my fair share of connections and skilful networking that ultimately won me the part. Having landed the job I so highly sought, I began the second part of my plan – unable to be satisfied with the paltry salary that I was expected to live off.

While I had suffered a few casualties among my side-job of house-sitting, in my extensive friendship circles, I was still a trusted and respected member of society. It was no difficult thing to convince them that I had shed my old ways and had devoted myself to keeping their belongings safe from undesirables – and at a discount that they could hardly say ‘no’ to.

Slowly but surely, I built up a most trusted portfolio and sent off bits and pieces of information to my accomplices. With the job already cased and the codes to the alarms provided, it was a simple affair of waiting for the right opportunity to strike.

The first few jobs were a resounding success. Thousands upon thousands began pouring into bank accounts before being evenly distributed through private transactions.

But it all slowly came apart when the others became greedy.

I remember one incident at the office. It was late and I had stayed back to fix up some paperwork. Even though I had almost a million dollars tied up in investments, I could not draw attention to the vast amounts of wealth I now had. It had to be used sparingly. A little here, a little there – if I wanted to keep the tax agents off my trail.

His name was Doug. A stupid fellow, really. More of a hired muscle than someone I would have deigned to initiate cerebral conversations with. In he barged into one of my most innermost sanctums, caring not that at any moment he could have disrupted our tenuous business network – demanding more. Always more.

 More, more, more, more, more.

You can imagine how maddening it was for someone of my intellect having to rely on such individuals for my masterplan to work. And yet, rely on them I must for it would not be detrimental to everything that I planned if I was seen in the midst of a crime scene.

Still, Doug had made his point clear and I strived to find more lucrative targets. Who was I to deprive my employees of a bonus or a raise? Not if it meant that I was beaten to almost an inch of my life. Besides, more money for Doug also meant more money for me.

For two months, we managed to rake in far more than the quotas that I had set. I will admit, the success we had found had made me giddy. I wanted to keep pushing the boundaries – take on more risks, for the reward when we had overcome all obstacles was a high that I never wanted to come down from. The rush, the thrill…

And that was the fatal mistake I made.

Instead of being satisfied with what we had managed to do and laying low for a time, I was eager to do something much bigger. I allowed my base greed take control and dictate my actions rather than heeding caution, even when my security business was hit by an audit and was under much tighter scrutiny than it had ever been.

Yet the thrill of it! Oh, I could wax poetic about how invigorated I was during the last several months as I played the elusive mouse. To steal a quote from the deplorable detective known only as Sherlock Holmes, the game was very much afoot. And I was eager to win it.

To show everyone I was more than the dowdy middle-aged man with a growing bald spot.

Alas, you know how the story ends. I won’t trouble you with the details that were splashed across the newspapers for weeks on end. What I will reveal is that in those days leading up to my arrest, the betrayal struck a deep blow to my confidence. I knew it had been foolish but I had thought that over our long acquaintance, I would have been able to trust Charlie.

~

The gun feels heavy in my hand. I bought it soon after my encounter with Doug at my office. A means of self-defence should something similar happen again.

I kept it strapped to the underside of my desk. An insurance policy for dealing with my less than savoury associates. One could never be too careful and I had learned that the hard way.

They say that to take one’s own life is an act of cowardice. But as a I stare at this carefully constructed piece of metal, I cannot help but think that the old adage is a lie. Perhaps it is my pride but there is something beautiful about going out on my own terms instead of wallowing inside a prison cell.

What is important to leave behind is not my wasted body but instead my legacy. To have others know that they are not alone in their fight against this oppression of the mind and soul. I could have been a successful businessman had the fates looked kindly on me. I could have lived my life with a smile on my face, spread out on a beach towel on Venice Beach. I could have been the one that had both a wife and loving son.

All of it could have been mine. Had not others stolen the happiness I could have achieved!

~

It is nearly seven. By eight thirty, I will be bundled into a police vehicle and escorted back to court. I know that any form of resistance would be futile.

But I am so tired…

Tired of what this world aspires to be. Tired of the expectations placed upon all the young boys and girls as they are constantly reminded that they are special. That they have purpose and meaning. Only for them to find out several months before graduation that they will only be a very small cog in a very large machine.

To the first responders that will find this: I apologise for the mess. In the end, it was not as easy as I had hoped. I dithered on the cusp right until I saw the first flashes of red and blue.

To those that were hoping to recoup their losses: again, I apologise. Perhaps you will be able to sell some of my assets (little though they may be).

And finally, to the jurors. I will not hear how you have judged me. Or my actions.

Still, let it be known that I, being of sound mind and body, do enter in my final testimonial. To shed some truth on the world and cut away the lies we weave around ourselves. I may not be a good man. But I am my own man. How many of you can say the same?

Shepherding the New Flock into a Colourful Apocalypse

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Far Cry: New Dawn begins with a train journey. Set seventeen years after the bombs fell at the end of the fifth numbered game in the series, much has changed in Hope County. Only a few select families have survived the disaster that changed the world. Most of them have built a new home in John Seed’s old chalet. Christened Prosperity, it is a valiant attempt to reclaim what many have lost. Joseph Seed has also managed to survive the fallout. Leading his flock back the surface, he has also set up a settlement known as New Eden. Under Joseph’s guiding hand, they have resolved to rebuild civilisation without the crutch that is technology. Theirs is a simple life.

Yet New Dawn is not satisfied to simply depict the difficulties in trying to tame an irradiated land. Enter the Highwaymen.

The particular charter encountered throughout Hope County is run by the Twins: Mickey and Lou. And they are not people to take lightly as they pillage and murder the hardworking civilians of both Prosperity and New Eden. They are a gang of marauders, eager to take advantage of the survivors for their own entertainment. Without law and order, who else can stop them?

In their darkest hour, Carmina Rye (daughter of Nick and Kim from the first game) sets out to bring outside help and turn the tide. She entreats Thomas Rush. With him is the Captain of Security. Another nameless protagonist, in the vein of the Deputy, for the player to project themselves onto.

After an ambush by the Highwaymen, the Captain of Security, or Cap as they are often called, in lieu with Carmina find their way back to Prosperity. Though many of their allies were killed and the situation seems hopeless, the Cap strives to assist the scavengers of Prosperity and rescue their colleague, Thomas Rush.

While the story felt quite rote, with a touch of the supernatural with regards to the apples of Eden that augmented the abilities of the player, there was still much to enjoy in this touched up version of Hope County.

Within hours of dropping back into this familiar world, I was hunting down supplies and gunning down Highwaymen instead of the wayward members of the Cult. Before long, I had reunited with old faces and met new ones: Grace Armstrong and Sharky Boshaw to Nana and good faithful Horatio. A little disappointing though was the reappearance of Junior Deputy as the Judge. After falling down the rabbit hole that was Far Cry 5 fanfiction, I had my own salacious ideas of what transpired in the bunker. Then again, perhaps it was best that the game developers never quite went down that route. At the very least, this blogger can still enjoy whatever nonsense that appears on Archive of Our Own.

One of the things I loved about New Dawn was revisiting the places that I had frequented in the first game. Whether that was Dutch’s Island or the Mastodon Geothermal Park. This was best exemplified in the side mission A Thousand Words where the player was tasked with using photos of the past to align with the present.

Yet no matter how you slice it, Far Cry: New Dawn felt like a proper resolution to Far Cry 5. In fact, it played very much like an extended piece of downloadable content. I know many did not like the ending of Far Cry 5 but it was an effective piece of social commentary and still very much a potential future considering how talks broke down during the summit at Vietnam. 

Still, Far Cry: New Dawn with its more colourful palette was also eager to champion hope. When the end credits finally rolled, Ubisoft, through the young naive Carmina, was eager to remind us that quite a bit is still unwritten. The world is ours and we, the people, have the power to change it for the better (should we choose to). This is also reflected in Mickey’s last words to the player as she lies in a pool of blood, defeated by the Cap.

Far Cry: New Dawn doesn’t reinvent the series by any means. It does introduce basic roleplaying elements such as numbers appearing above the heads of enemies and a talent tree, but none of it detracts from the frantic nature of taking down guards and scrabbling for survival when the best-laid plans go awry. The only exception to this being the battle with the final boss, which felt like an extended battle of attrition with the huge amount of health they had.

As for the story, it follows many of the narrative beats one comes to expect from such titles. There was nothing that stood out and in this entry, at least, it was clear what was right and what was wrong. Even the attempt to flesh out Mickey and Lou felt like a missed opportunity considering how the Twins turned out. Ethan, too, followed each and every cliche that there could possibly be.

That is not to say the story was not enjoyable. It was. If one chose not to delve too much into the themes being explored or desperately sought to combat much more complex characters with ideologies that challenged what we knew about the world.

With the small lull in video games that caught my interest in the first months of the year, Far Cry: New Dawn was a good distraction until E3.

How to be Inconspicuous 101

On By kyndarisLeave a comment

Tucked away in an office job, lunch has become the new water cooler. All gathered around the communal kitchen, it has helped enable me to learn a great deal about my fellow coworkers. While thirty minutes may not be the longest break when it comes to partaking of the midday meal, it has afforded me the opportunity to understand various facets of my colleagues and chat about anything that comes to mind as I munch on the leftovers brought from home. There are some that prefer the waft of fresh air (a valid choice after sitting for approximately three to four hours) but it does make it difficult to connect with others unless they are members of your team or simply within your immediate vicinity. And while toilet breaks are also a good chance to shoot the breeze with everyone locked into their very own cubicle, the three to five minutes only allows for a brief topic to be discussed before it’s back to the daily grind.

Though what is discussed at the lunch table can vary wildly, from weekend plans to the US government shutdown or how unsafe Sydney feels with the discovery of a dentist in a suitcase (and yes, I know that it’s old news by the time this post is published), there’s always something to keep our mouths chatting away the precious time we’ve been allocated to refuel for the afternoon ahead. Usually, there’s a strong focus on the general day-to-day. Complaints about the workload, gossip about so-and-so…

But then you encounter the deep meaningful talks – wondering about criminal motive and how multiple stab wounds might be indicative of explosive anger impulses. You know the ones – when we try to break down the most recent tragedy and put down our own guesses to a murder mystery.

As the resident armchair criminologist (due to the degree I pursued all those years ago at university), I often like to chime in and offer my unwarranted two cents. Due to my familiarity of the basic theories of crime and some basic psychology courses I did during my tenure, I often terrify one or two of my colleagues as I describe in detail the possible scenarios. In fact, one of my coworkers now obliquely jokes about what I might do to his hapless corpse once I’m finished. A little macabre perhaps and not something I would actually entertain. I mean, I am a law-abiding citizen for goodness sake without a mean bone in my body. The only crimes I have ever committed where in video games – where I very much enjoyed robbing stagecoaches in Red Dead Redemption 2.

Still, this whole enterprise had me thinking about a terrific series on Netflix. You. Yes, I know it has been months since it was first released on the streaming giant and that many of the elements within are quite unrealistic when looked at critically, but a blogger can be bogged down with other shows and books and planning the numerous ways I can kill the players in my Dungeons and Dragons campaign (again, only in the realm of make-believe).

Whether it was my inherent interest in Sherlock Holmes at a young age or the influence of watching far too many Detective Conan during my stays in China, crime has always been an area of interest to me. And one of the key ingredients to any salacious crime novel is the motive. What were the reasons behind the criminal’s actions? What could have pushed them into committing so heinous a murder?

You, much like the short story I published quite a while ago, is about someone that observes the world around them and instantly makes assumptions about the people that inhabit it. He isn’t always wrong in how he dissects the behaviours of those around him and played by Penn Badgley, there is something innately charismatic about Joe. Whereas my nameless protagonist teetered very close to insanity.

In the end, though, his desire to ‘save’ Beck and be her knight in shining armour backfires. Instead, he is unmasked to the audience as the villain. Yet even after disposing of Beck’s body, he does not believe he is in the wrong. As one article I read advised, Joe Goldberg is the perfect example of toxic masculinity that has saturated our society. In many ways he is the extreme version of the ‘nice guy’ that immediately blames the woman if their advances are rejected.

It is important to understand that obsession is not love and if anime has taught me anything, yanderes are incredibly terrifying. No one wants to be with a yandere. Don’t be a yandere.

Of course, in saying that, it doesn’t hurt to do some research into the potential people you may be dating. Or learning a little bit more about your colleagues at work. And just like Joe from You, I was able to glean a wealth of information from a basic search on social media about the myriad people I surround myself with. Seriously, people out there need to learn to put less personal information on the internet and stop making it so easy for unsavoury individuals to find out everything from addresses to the name of their first pet.

That aside, perhaps people would be less suspicions of my intentions if I stopped memoring their residential addresses and mobile numbers. For this blogger, I suppose it is something I should actively look into if I want to retain my cover as an innocent bystander.

The Legend Reborn

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Though I purchased it quite soon after Yakuza 0 after being recommended the series from YouTube channel PlayStation Access (Hollie, you will be missed), the latest game releases and the desire to remain ahead of the curve meant that it was difficult to find the perfect time to dive into Yakuza Kiwami, a remake of the original PlayStation 2 title that introduced us to Kiryu Kazuma. Fast forward a year and a brief lull in releases for titles that I was interested in presented the perfect opportunity to boot up the game that started it all. 

There is something something about the Yakuza series that seems to grab your attention the moment that the title sequence begins. Perhaps it’s the game’s focus on Kiryu Kazuma, a lieutenant of the Kazama family. With a constant frown on his face, is it any wonder that many believe that he is more than just an ordinary citizen roaming the streets of Kamurocho (based on the real destination of Kabukicho in Tokyo). But beneath that gruff exterior is a heart of gold. As you play through the chapters and participate in the strangely wonderful side stories, many of his compelling character traits rise to the surface. And even with silly games aimed towards children, such as Pocket Circuit Racer and MesuKing, Kiryu puts in as much enthusiasm as everything he does in life.

Yakuza Kiwami begins with the death of a family patriarch. The police swarm the office and find Kiryu within, holding the murder weapon. He surrenders and the scene flashes back to the events prior to this singular moment that sets the plot into motion.

Though I played through the prequel series, there was still much to digest within the first thirty minutes. The game is quickly able to establish the relationships between Nishikiyama, Yumi and Kiryu in a way that feels natural. And so it does feel contrived when Kiryu volunteers to take the blame for the murder of Dojima Sohei. For this noble act, he is stripped of his position and expelled from the Tojo Clan.

Ten years after, Kiryu is released. But before he can properly adjust to the fact that every child and their mothers have mobile phones, he is pulled into a conspiracy, spawned by the secret political machinations of many of the more ambitious family heads: Shimano and Nishiki. To make matters more difficult, he also needs to keep an eye on a precocious nine-year old girl who is searching for her mother and may have ties with the missing ten billion yen.

And so begins a thrilling narrative that would be familiar to those that enjoy high-octane action films. It made me envious of the time when I picked up Sleeping Dogs and being drawn into the thoroughly cliche Hong Kong police drama that was given new life through the medium of video games. Speaking of which, I know that it would be highly unlikely but I would greatly enjoy a sequel to Wei Shen’s foray as a triad member.

Tangent aside, the controls of Yakuza Kiwami are the same as Yakuza 0. A few battles in and I had regained all the skills I had accumulated when I first played as the Dragon of Dojima. Returning as well were the different styles: Rush, Brawler and Beast. Unlike Yakuza 0, however, money did not unlock new abilities. Instead, Kiryu gained experience points when he pounded street ruffians and goons into the ground, or ate food. This was a mechanism that I very much preferred as it did not tie the same resource for purchasing healing items with increasing the fighting capabilities of Kiryu.

Another significant change in Yakuza Kiwami was also the fact that Kiryu was the sole controllable protagonist this time round. Majima Goro, the charming Lord of the Night, this time round has delved deep into the pool of madness since last I encountered him. It was surprising to see him spring from the most unlikely of places. From the sewers to acting like a peeping tom when I was trying to take pictures at a photobooth.  Though the Majima Everywhere System could be disruptive when pursuing mission objectives, I still found it much better than Mr. Shakedown as no two battles with Majima were the same.

The only detraction I would have to say with regards to Yakuza Kiwami was that it seemed to reuse so many of the assets that had been in Yakuza 0 – from the ship to the streets of Kamurocho. That aside, I barely paid much attention – so drawn was I to the eclectic characters and the strength of the writing to make Haruka endearing and Nishikiyama tragic.

A proper convert now to Japan’s underworld, I found Yakuza Kiwami a joy from beginning to end. There were times when it was irritating to be constantly pulled into battle with the goons that peppered the streets, but my attention was riveted on how the story would end. This entry has only whetted my appetite for more and this blogger is looking forward to Yakuza Kiwami 2 and Yakuza 6: Song of Life. I’m also hopeful that the remasters of Yakuza 3, 4 and 5 make it to the West as I am terribly anxious to see more of Kiryu’s story.

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What other series would you have a man cross dress as a cabaret girl simply to fight you?

Tackling The Hard Truths

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To those that know me, the revelation that my confidence and self-worth are quite lacking, should come as no surprise. Mix in a little anxiety, neurosis and paranoia, and voila! you would have the perfect cocktail that is Kyndaris. For a while now I’ve tossed around the idea of visiting a psychiatrist and/ or a psychologist with regards to my mental health. This has become a rather ongoing issue in the last few months where I have struggled with compulsive behaviour that has bordered a little on the absurd, even for me. Almost always, though, something holds me back.

A part of me feels like I can ride it through – convinced that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. That if I simply persevere, everything will resolve itself in time. Another believes that going to a psychologist would only affirm what I have already suspected for years and provide little but unhelpful advice. A third simply wants the whole world to fall away so that I can enjoy the fantastical settings that I often find myself enraptured by in video games, novels and films (although, perhaps that’s simply the escapism talking and I should rally explore the desire to vanish into an alternate world). 

I suppose some of my cynicism of how helpful a psychologist would be comes form the inexact nature of the human mind and the human condition. As a student of the social sciences, I know that there will always be an outlier to the norm that cannot be simply explained through repeated experiments and tests. Humans cannot simply be put into pigeonhole. There is much more to a person than a select number of stereotypical traits. To do so would strip them of everything that makes them unique. But that’s exactly how the DSM-5 works. It puts a label on a person after someone has ‘confirmed’ specific symptoms. The question that comes to mind, however, is how easy can these be faked? I know that those to choose to pursue a career in such a field are highly trained and perhaps understand much more about the chemicals roiling around my brain and know best on breaking negative patterns of thinking. How else are we to identify the mental disorders that affect individuals?

Still, I’ve also put a great stock in my own intelligence and hate the thought of someone psycho-analysing me and perhaps judging me for my idiosyncrasies.

Let’s, however, for a single moment, put all that aside and talk, instead, on the flood of spreading positive thoughts and remaining happy in the face of adversity. While I can understand that there are many things we, as a society, should be grateful for, much like in the Pixar film Inside Out, this unhealthy fixation on remaining forever happy has taken its toll. This is especially prevalent within my own family environment where other emotions are meant to be quashed as they do not contribute to a contented lifestyle.

The problem with emphasising this mentality is that it pushes away other valid feelings and reactions. Without accepting and acknowledging our sadness, hurt or anger, it becomes much more difficult to identify the triggers and process how we truly feel about a given situation. 

And perhaps it’s another reason why I have such a defensive wall with regards to my own mental health.

Truth be told, however, I have been both envious and resentful that my friends, family and work colleagues seem to so easily tuck away their worries and fears. Unfortunately, it’s so easy as simply telling my anxiety to go away and shutting it all out when that voice in the back of my head taunts me with ‘what if’ scenarios.

Coming back to the broader discussion, I often think that because this is my own individual problem, I need to surmount it in my own way. Yes, therapy might assist but this is a battle I need to win by myself.

Still, I hope my own hesitation does not serve to deter others from seeking assistance if required. In fact, it is my greatest desire that others that are struggling with their own mental health seek the opinion of a professional if it all becomes too much. Most of them are probably quite astute students of the human condition and their advice for a healthier and happier frame of mind should not be ignored.

Empirical research, while it has its flaws, has helped in isolating specific thought patterns and behaviour. There is still much to be said (and discovered) in the field of human psychology and our growing interest in mental health is a boon to understanding much of the human psyche.

And though my praise could not be higher, psychology is a field that still has room for improvement.

So, don’t be afraid to tell someone if you’re feeling down. But more importantly, don’t be ashamed to feel that you’re out of your depth. 

Why yes, poking a dismembered arm should be no problem

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After hearing quite a few favourable things about the title, I thought to take advantage of the indie sales on the Switch and purchased Night in the Woods. While I knew it was a narrative heavy game with light platforming elements, I was still taken aback by how the characters were portrayed and the depth the writers gave to each and every single one of the townsfolk. Their struggles, much as it did in Life is Strange, resonated with me in ways that elicited a slew of emotions. One scene in particular was the fight between mother and daughter midway through the game. It was particularly painful as growing up Asian in Western society, there were many ingrained expectations that I had to fight against. While the ending felt abrupt and left quite a lot unanswered, it was good to Mae Borowski in a happier headspace than she had been before. At its core, Night in the Woods proved to be an effective social commentary of the lives we lead and the obstacles we often encounter in this modern age.

Despite the disparate ideas and themes inherent within the title, Night in the Woods mostly succeeds in pulling them all together. The one major stumble I found in the pacing was the introduction of a mysterious arm that Mae and her friends find quite early on, but which only finds resolution at the very end when it is revealed that a cult has been kidnapping undesirables and using them as sacrifices to an unknown God. I know, just typing that sentence still made it difficult to parse the events that transpired in the last hour or two of Night in the Woods. This makes the narrative flow quite jarring as multiple threads culminate together. Worse, there is no definitive ending to the sordid discoveries Mae, Bea, Angus and Gregg stumble upon with regards to the sleepy town of Possum Springs – nor an answer to Mae’s direction in life after she drops out of college.

Though the story itself could be easily beaten in a couple of short hours, I often found myself wandering around Possum Springs and speaking with all the residents. As a result, each day would take upwards of twenty to thirty minutes as I scoured the map, looking for ways to learn more about Selmers and Bruce or jumping up onto the rooftops to stargaze. There was much to uncover and I did like the various interactions Mae could share with the other denizens of the town.

While the gameplay was simplistic, Night in the Woods also took the liberty of implementing two minigames that were easy to pick up for those familiar with rhythm action and hack-n-slash. Each one is quite deep and I can imagine many players devoting an hour or two to perfecting each one. What proved amusing was that throughout the course of the story, Mae would always be quick to point out that she was always tasked to play bass for songs she had never heard or seen the sheet music for. 

Like many though, I found Night in the Woods was not a title that could be rushed. It had to be slowly digested. After a week of slowing meandering through (and providing my own voice to the characters to add some additional flavour) I came to appreciate the things that the characters endured. In fact, I often found myself connecting with Bea and her sarcasm proved refreshing in the face of Mae’s more gung-ho attitude towards petty crimes. As I said in one of the above paragraphs, however, Night in the Woods did not solve my existential crisis or provide me with a definitive direction for where my own life should go. But perhaps by learning to let go, I can keep looking forward to each brand new experience. At least, it’s the hope.

Night in the Woods is a very particular game. It rewards curiosity by dropping side plot hooks for those that care to look for them, while also providing an overarching narrative where such actions are not necessary for story fulfillment. It didn’t, perhaps, tug on my heart strings as much as Life is Strange did but I feel like I could understand myself a little better and the aimlessness that has haunted me ever since I graduated university.

Delighting in the Wonders of Family

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Our next family incursion was during the first long weekend of the year for most hard working Australians. There are many that wish to move the date but for 2019, at least, the 26th of January was still celebrated all across the country with joyful events and citizenship ceremonies. But with it falling on a Saturday, all those working in their thankless positions were thankful that their Monday would be free to do with as they please. To take advantage of the time we had, my mother thought it would be best to move our day trip to Watson’s Bay to the Sunday – a day filled with sunshine and a cap of $2.60 on public transport.

Off we went, heading out mid-morning after ensuring that our chores had been completed for the day. By noon, our ferry finally pulled in to dock at Watson Bay. My first proper visit (that I was sure to remember) though I’ve lived in Sydney for all my life. Perhaps next time, I’ll take a stroll through Rose Bay and soak in the ambience of the wealthy. 

Following my grandmother, we took a leisurely walk among the numerous beaches until we reached the lighthouse at the tip of South Head. Many photos were taken and we used the shade and the brisk breeze to cool down during the thirty degree Celsius day. There were many moments when both my grandmother and I had to wait for my mother as she was eager to show off to her friends on WeChat what we were up to and her perfect life.

We even stopped by Lady Bay: one of the few nudist beaches in Australia. Granted, I did not take the opportunity to strip down and enjoy the warm sun on my bare skin. One thing I did notice was that there were more males than females tanning themselves in the sun or out in the cool waters.

I’ll never quite understand the idea of strutting around in my birthday suit where anyone would see but I suppose there might be a sense of freedom or liberation in doing so. When we were in Japan and hoping to enjoy a hot spring experience, my mother ensured that we had bathers on until we were told that it was meant to be strictly naked. Although my mother initially proved coy, it was not too hard to convince her to take a dip on a freezing winter day.

Our excursion was finished by two. A little hungry, we headed to Doyles on the Beach to indulge our appetites. Once we managed to secure a seat and take a look at the menu, I could not help but bulk at the prices of the mains. Still, this was meant to be our time to shine. My mother and I ordered a sprinkle of calamari, some salmon and an overpriced steak.

It was nearing three when we finished, our stomachs full and my migraine abating just a little. It was not long before we were boarding the ferry back to Circular Quay. On the way back to the trains, my mother also stopped by a Copenhagen to purchase two scoops of ice-cream to help cool us down.

Surprised that I had not fallen into my usual sullen tantrums, my mother was quick to point out the levity that I carried myself with. I suppose, dear family of mine, that if we were to head out on an adventure that I wish to go on, I would not be so antagonistic. And with a good night’s sleep, my mood would be much lighter than if I only managed four hours.

But enough of that negativity! Our trip to the wealthier suburbs and the Hornby Lighthouse was an enjoyable romp rarely experienced. Though my mother’s astonishment threatened to upend my good mood, I nevertheless, kept my attention focused on the impending release of Kingdom Hearts 3 on the 29th of January. 

This had been something filled with joy and I was not going to allow a stray comment to ruin it.