canyonwalker: WTF? (wtf?)
How stupid does this restaurant think its customers are?

Yes, this wine bar in my town really is named

This is a real restaurant in my town: the Le Plonc wine bar.

For those who don't know "plonk" (which plonc is French for) is a derogatory term for cheap wine. Swill. And this restaurant thinks it can attract a clientele who're like, "Ooh, it has a French name, it must be good!" without recognizing the barely-different-in-a-foreign-language name?

This reminds me of one of the gags from the classic 1991 Steve Martin comedy film, L.A. Story. Martin's character repeatedly tries to get reservations at the city's hottest restaurant, whose name sounds like "Le Dioh". When he finally get in there and walks up to the building the audience finally sees the name is actually l'Idiot. The Idiot.

In this case you'd have to be l'idiot to drink le plonc.

canyonwalker: Roll to hit! (d&d)
The other day I mentioned a roleplaying game (RPG) blog I find interesting. See Electronics at the Gaming Table. That's the title of my blog entry; the other blog is called Gnome Stew. Another interesting post on Gnome Stew recently was about using tilts to drive intrigue in the game. By "tilts" they mean jousts; tournaments. It reminded me how years ago I plotted a D&D adventure around a tournament in my long-term game. The Tournaments of Duke Cassavette was a huge success. Here are Five Things that accounted for the success:

1) I was inspired by A Knights Tale. There are plenty of possible source for inspiration; mine was this underappreciated movie from 2001 starring Heath Ledger. It gave me the ideas of focusing the story around just three combat tournaments, introducing bitter rivalries, and using an element of mystery with a "black" knight.

2) I kept the story simple by focusing the action on three martial competitions: the Tourney of Lances, the Tourney of Swords, and the Tourney of Arrows, with the joust being the top event. I let players know there would be much more than this going on— I characterized the tourney overall as a combination of the Olympics and a County Fair, so there'd be competitions for biggest pumpkin and longest dancing, too— and invited them to work with me to develop their interests. They thought the adventure would be plenty rich with the 3 sports I proposed. I then customized the combat mechanics for each of these sports (we were using D&D 3.x rules in the game) to keep them simple, fun, competitive, and not totally deadly.

3) The group bit hard on the Black Knight subplot. Historically a "black" knight was a combatant who wore a black shroud over his coat of arms to conceal his identity. One joust entrant did that, and the group really got into trying to figure out their identity. It turned out to be an NPC ally of theirs. She was concealing her identity so as not to give offense to Duke Cassavette as she'd recently spoken out against a misguided peace treaty he'd signed with a hostile foreign power and didn't want her success or failure in the games to be seen as a proxy for her political movement. This tracks with why knights went occasionally entered tournaments incognito; it wasn't necessarily to be anonymous as must as to compete without exacerbating political difficulties.

4) Intrigue, intrigue, INTRIGUE!! The Gnome Stew blog is all about the intrigue that swirls around jousts. I wove in plenty to my own. I already mentioned the Black Knight subplot above. Even the occasion for the tournament invited intrigue. The duke was celebrating the marriage of his youngest daughter to the sheriff of a remote town whom he was also ennobling as a baron. Well, the PCs had crossed swords (literally) with the sheriff's men in the past and considered them to have been protecting illegal slave traders. They had to decide early in the adventure whether and how much they'd poke into sheriff/baron-to-be's business and potentially embarrass Cassavette over his new son-in-law.

5) Even combat can be intrigue. The intrigue didn't stop with roleplaying scenes; it continued into dice-rolling combat. I mentioned the sheriff becoming a baron.... Well, the town of which he was sheriff was also claimed by another duke. That rival duke sent his best champions to compete in the tourneys to show up Cassavette. Oh, and the hostile foreign power I mentioned sent a champion, too. He'd show that the Russ— I mean, The Empire of Tarrentum was superior. BTW, they were also the power with whom the barely-legal slave trade was being conducted. Oh, and remember how I wrote "not totally deadly" above? Well, there was a fatality. Someone killed Tarrentum's champion— in a contest. It was an international incident! That colored what the group did in a few adventures later in the campaign.
canyonwalker: Malign spirits in TV attempt to kill viewer (movies)
Last weekend I finally watched the Borat movie from 2006. Long story short: What a crummy movie.

In my head I've composed reviews of this movie that would probably extend past 1,000 words when written. Yeah, that's long, though since the full title of the movie, "Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan", is way longer than most (it's 12 words when most American movie titles are 3 or less) I feel like I should get to go long, too. But giving this fetid turd of a film that much room in my head seems like the wrong thing to do. So I'll explain my poor rating in under 200 words.

Borat (2006)

Expectations vs. Reality

I've wanted to see Borat since it hit theaters in 2006. Friends said it was great and that Sacha Baron Cohen— the film's writer, producer, and star— is a brilliant comedian. I took them at their word.

I love comedy. I also love dark comedy. I note that because that's what I expected Borat to be: a dark comedy in why a sly comedian portrays a ridiculous character to catch unsuspecting people, including some public figures, saying very embarrassing things about themselves and their beliefs. Call it Candid Camera if Allen Funt were really devious... and didn't have network censors.

Instead of a dark-comedy version of Candid Camera what Borat delivers is... 1 hour 24 minutes of poop jokes, misogyny, and anti-Semitic gags by a comedian who plays mean-spirited pranks on normal people and seems to want more than anything else to show his penis on camera as much as possible. Cohen isn't funny for more than scattered moments here and there in this movie. The rest of the time he's just being an asshole to real people whose peace and quiet he invades with a film crew. And his dick.

As I write this I recall a scene in which Cohen purports to offer an unsuspecting person a bag of his own feces. That's a good metaphor for the entire movie. It's a sack of turds.


canyonwalker: Malign spirits in TV attempt to kill viewer (movies)
Friday night we watched The Suicide Squad. "It doesn't suck, does it?" Hawk asked a friend. She was wary about it being a reboot of the 2016 Suicide Squad which... I think the only people who liked it were diehard fanboys/fangirls of the character Harley Quinn.

"It's actually really good," our friend assured us. Still wary we watched it on a free trial of HBO Max instead of shelling out $20++ to see it in a theater. It was... 2 hours 12 minutes long. Yeah, it wasn't that great. It wasn't bad enough that I want my time back, but if I'd paid much more than $0 for the tickets I'd want something back.



The Suicide Squad is an action comedy patterned on 1970s war movies such as The Dirty Dozen. (Yes, cinemaphiles, The Dirty Dozen is from 1967. The director of this movie has repeatedly cited "1970s war movies" and "The Dirty Dozen" in the same sentence in interviews about his inspiration. That may tell you something about the quality of the art here.) Instead of garden variety criminals sent on a dangerous mission, it's comic book villains sent on a dangerous mission. D-List comic book villains.

"This is like Mystery Men," I quipped as the team of misfits was pulled together. "Except without the charisma of The Shoveler."

"I think that's the one played by the guy who did Pee-wee Herman," I snickered about one character. "No, wait, I think that's him," I corrected moments later. For the record, none of them are played by Paul Reubens.

By the time the full team assembled, with brief backstories given for each member, I'd already stopped caring about the characters. "I've already ranked my list on which ones I want to see die first," I announced.

It turned out that was ironic because in practically the next scene, Minor Spoilers ).

That's the point, of course. The characters are not meant to be sympathetic. Like in The Dirty Dozen you may root for them to win because they're fighting for your side, but at the same time you know they're scum. Except here most of them are so unsympathetic, so ridiculously fourth-rate, sad sack villains, that you're rooting for most of them to die.

And that's kind of the point, too. Actor John Cena describes his portrayal of the character Peacemaker as, "Captain America, if he were a total douchebag." 

It's hard to imagine a story full of unlikeable characters keeping itself together for over 2 hours. The Suicide Squad does... barely. It does that by stringing together action scenes with plenty of violence and gore. And a high body count. Yeah, one reason you might keep watching is to see the character(s) you hate get whacked.

Overall I give this movie a D+. It does a bit better than the minimum passing grade, but not by much.

You know what's scary, though? At a D+ this might still be the best DC Comics movie adaptation. Why is it that dozens of movies have been made in the Marvel Comics universe and the worst of them is still okay, but with DC it's such a struggle to do better than crap a turd onto the screen?


canyonwalker: Mr. Moneybags enjoys his wealth (money)
Media content, like games and movies, is so cheap nowadays. I was reminded of that today in a discussion elsenet where someone brought up the days of VCRs and VHS tapes. Remember those days, the mid 1980s through mid 1990s?

Before VCRs became a standard fixture in households by the mid 1980s, game consoles like the Atari 2600 took the country by storm. Atari 2600 VCS (1980-1982)I remember it was about 1982 when it seemed like everyone I knew had one. Everyone except my family, that is. We were poor-ish. The $125 or so the console cost in 1982 was a big ask for my parents. To put that in perspective, it's about $350 today according to inflation indexes.

Okay, so console prices have kept pace with inflation. Buying a new console today will set you back a few hundred. But there's a concept in consumer goods from decades ago called The Razor and Razorblade Problem. Consumers tend to focus on the cost of a razor as a major factor in choosing which item to buy or whether to buy one at all, but really in the long run they're going to be spending way more money on razor blades than the razor itself. A game console is the razor, and its games are the razor blades.

Check out the math on this. Major title games for that Atari 2600 back in 1982 were priced at $50 each. That's almost $140 today.

Can you imagine paying $140 for a game? It would be an outrage. And today's games are not only way cheaper (adjusted for inflation) but they're also vastly richer and more immersive than the primitive graphics and repetitive game play we considered state-of-the-art in 1982.

Now let's talk about movies on VHS tapes. Yeah, they required VCRs to play, and like pretty much all consumer electronics VCRs were extremely expensive at first but quickly came down in price to the point that virtually every working class or higher household had one. Even my dad sprung for one in late 1986. He bought it as a Christmas gift to the whole family.

VCR ownership suffered from the same "razor and razorblade" problem as game console ownership. With VCRs the movies you'd buy could add up quickly to more than the player.

Back in the VHS heyday, movies were heinously expensive. I remember shopping with my dad for a few movies to watch along with our new VCR. Major new-release titles were priced at $70 each. Again, inflation index calculation... that's $165 today.

Can you imagine buying a movie for $165 today? I mean, even aside from the fact that you can stream thousands of movies titles on Netflix, etc., for under $20 month, if you want to outright own a movie you can buy physical media such as Blu-Ray on Amazon for usually around $20 for new releases, or wait several months and pick it up for $10. That is so much cheaper than shelling out $165 to own it on VHS!


canyonwalker: WTF? (wtf?)
A week ago Hawk and I watched the movie Coming 2 America on Amazon Prime Video. TLDR: it was awful.

The film was so bad I paused it twice In the first 10 minutes to tell Hawk I was ready to leave the room. She was ready to quit, too. We had three major objections, all in just the first 10 minutes:
  1. The movie portrayed African cultures with every corny, 1980s vintage US stereotype about how they're silly and obsessed with dancing, sex, and violence. If this movie were not produced by, directed by, and starring Black people it would be roundly condemned as racist.
  2. The plot was premised on the existence of a law that treats women unequally— which nobody, including the reigning monarch of the land, thought could be changed. (What would it take to change it? Uh... the reigning monarch of the land simply saying so.)
  3. The plot was also premised on rape. A rape that the film telegraphed would be played for laughs. (Also, the victim of the rape would be criticized for it, and the perpetrator(s) of the rape would be excused.)
We decided several times to continue watching the move despite our grave concerns. "Maybe it gets better," we told ourselves several times. And it did get better... though just barely. A few of the guest appearances from music stars were good. They raised the movie overall from an F to a D-.

One thing that really has me shaking my head about this movie is Eddie Murphy's involvement in it. After he became the hottest comedian and one of the hottest stars in Hollywood in the late 1980s he largely stepped away from both movies and comedy. He said he didn't like how Black people were portrayed. Now he comes out of decades-long early retirement... to shit this massive turd on us.

You needed the money, didn't you, Eddie? You needed the money badly enough to repudiate every principled thing you ever said. You're just the kind of money-grubbing Hollywood liar you spent 30 years asking people to stop giving money to.


Hunters

Mar. 2nd, 2021 11:00 pm
canyonwalker: wiseguy (Default)
A few days ago Hawk and I started watching Hunters, an original show streaming on Amazon Prime Video. Wow, this show is intense.

Hunters, streaming on Amazon Prime VideoHunters is a thriller set in 1977. It's about a small, secretive group of vigilantes tracking down and killing Nazi leaders who escaped to the US after WWII. The main protagonist in the story is Jonah Heidelbaum, a 19-year-old Jewish man (played by Logan Lerman) who discovers the group after Episode 1 spoiler ). He joins their ranks but struggles with the morality of vengeance.

Stories about people hunting Nazis have been told many times many ways in American film. Action-Adventure is the most common genre; the classic war movies, where the good guys overcome tough challenges to whomp on the bad guys. Occasionally the stories are written as Horror: aging Nazis in hiding are scary, like bogeymen.

This narrative combines the best aspects of these two genres as a Thriller. The good guys struggle through challenges, while at the same time the Nazis are genuinely scary. They're up to really evil things of their own in 1977, they're at least as sneaky as the hunters, and they're hunting the hunters while the hunters are hunting them. It's an intense thriller.

Most of the Nazi-hunting stories you could compare this one to are films. This one's made for TV/streaming. Interestingly it features award-winning film actor Al Pacino in the co-lead role of Meyer Offerman, an enigmatic, aging man who bankrolls and leads the hunters. This is the first small screen role he's taken, ever. In interviews Pacino remarks that agents advised him for decades not to consider the small screen, and now he wonders if he missed out on great opportunities.

An Amazing Show on the Small Screen

I'm not so sure Pacino missed lots of opportunities; this streaming era is frankly a new golden age of TV. Yes, there's still a metric tonne of crap out there,
"It is difficult to produce a television documentary that is both incisive and probing when every 12 minutes one is interrupted by 12 dancing rabbits singing about toilet paper.”
-- Rod Serling on why TV is mostly crap
but the hunger for fresh content among streaming services leads them to take risks on ambitious series that wouldn't have been funded in years past, and the streaming medium frees show-runners from the ridiculous dictates of commercial broadcast and traditional cable TV. As Twilight Zone creator Rod Serling wrote years ago, "It is difficult to produce a television documentary that is both incisive and probing when every 12 minutes one is interrupted by 12 dancing rabbits singing about toilet paper.” Today it's more frequent than once every 12 minutes on traditional TV. And it's not just rabbits singing about toilet paper but aging minor league athletes smiling about erectile dysfunction pills while an announcer speed-talks through a lengthy list of harmful side effects.

Anyway, intense. This show is intense because it's historical fiction that cuts very close to the truth. Though it's set in 1977 a lot of things that are shown are eerily relevant today. Today, though, it's not WWII Nazis in our midst we worry so much about. A person who was 20 in 1941 is 100 today! But neo-Nazi ideology, and more broadly racist, white nationalist ideology, lives on. It has even become increasingly public— and publicly accepted— the past few years.

So, watch this show if you want to root for the good guys to win. Watch this show if you want to enjoy a crackling morality tale about vigilantism. But plan to watch it slowly, because the mirror it holds up to today is alarming.

canyonwalker: Roll to hit! (d&d)
In my previous journal entry I introduced how roleplaying games, particularly Dungeons & Dragons, have been a pastime of mine for many years. I wrote a lead-up to an idea I've been thinking about again just recently, the concept of a Session Zero. I wish I could claim ownership of the idea, or even the term, but alas neither originated with me. Though I did start figuring out the concept of Session Zero on my own, as it addresses a gaping problem in the play of roleplaying games, long before finding that others had already fleshed it out even more than I had. And had coined the catchy term.

Session One & The Breakfast Club Problem

In the old days, a roleplaying game like D&D would start with rolling up characters. A group of players would get together, create characters, and as soon as they could roll them up and put stats to paper the roleplaying would begin. Typically, as a trope, that meant having the characters meet each other for the first time at a tavern and then head off to explore a dungeon wherein there might reside a dragon. Call that Session One.

The problem with starting at Session One is that the players don't always want or expect the same thing out of playing the game. They just get together and go. There's no agreement on how to play. Imagine that while in the game the story is "meet at the tavern, go to the dungeon, kill the dragon and take its treasure", at the table the story is more like The Breakfast Club. Five people who kind of know each other are in the same room for the same purpose but have completely mismatched expectations of what's going to happen.

Two players are motivated to kill the dragon is because it's evil and a threat to good people, one wants to kill it because killing things just seems kinda fun, one wants the dragon's storied hoard of treasure, and the last one wants treasure, too... and is willing to take it from the dragon or steal it from the other players when they're not looking, whichever seems easier. And because this isn't a John Hughes movie there's no happy ending 2 hours later. The players just grow frustrated with each other. Some drop out of the game, and entire friendships may suffer. (I've seen at least two close friendships shattered due to disagreement at the gaming table.)

Session Zero: Get Aligned!

The idea of Session Zero, then, is pretty simple. It's an opportunity for the players to align on what they expect to happen in the game.

One important area of alignment is the group's moral center. What kind of people are we, overall? What's our tolerance for people with different morality? We don't necessarily have to agree 100% but we do have to make sure we're compatible enough with each other and with the scenario the game master (GM) has prepared so we can collaborate in telling an enjoyable story. (At the end of the day that's what a roleplaying game is: collaborative storytelling.)

Another important area for alignment is What do we (players) enjoy? Different people want to get different things out of the game. Some like the sense of adventure, some enjoy the dice-rolling simulation of combat, some like the challenge of portraying an alternate person, some even like games as morality plays. There's no one right answer. But a game in which different people want incompatible things is the wrong answer, because some or even all of the players will be unsatisfied.

Other topics to work out during a good Session Zero include what skills and backgrounds the various characters have (often you want a group that "covers the bases" in terms of certain skill sets), what the style of play is (shoot first and ask questions later?), and the logistics of things like how frequently the group will meet to play, for how long, and what they'll do if 1 player can't make it that session.

Why Was This a New Idea?

The idea of Session Zero didn't exist back in the old days— basically the 1980s and early 90s. Back then it assumed that there was only one motivation for gamers and that all right-thinking players automatically shared it. Does that look preposterous when written out like that? Heck yeah! But that was the essence of what was written about how to bring players together in the context of a game. Only a little of that was written in the rulebooks themselves; the creators of the games thought it was so obvious that it went without mention! Those same creators wrote more at length in early gaming magazines. Alas length did not equal wisdom. The issue remained an ongoing source of woe for gamers everywhere.

In the early 90s I started to figure out for myself that players needed to agree on the style of a game before playing it. I began working with players ahead of the start of the game— i.e., in something like a Session Zero— to gain alignment. The thing was, in my gaming community I was virtually the only person with this idea, so it was slow going. For my players it was at best an unfamiliar concept they needed time to understand. At worst they were hostile to the idea, arguing I was a weak GM who sought to limit their creativity. By the early 00s, thankfully, the concept of a Session Zero had caught on in more places as the term had been coined. It may even have appeared in some rulebooks of the era; certainly by then it appeared in online discussion and blogs.

Update: Subsequent entries about Session Zero:

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