Back to your Regularly Scheduled Complaining

The Raindrops on Roses series has definitely helped out content-wise, I think, but reminiscing on not-even-that-old media is certainly not the only thing I want to be writing about every week. So here’s some snippets from work. Certainly nothing as important as a missing oven mitt (not bitter!) but still things that yuck my yum, so to speak:

The new name change has rolled out to every location, not just certain test markets, which I think is a huge mistake. I’m reminded of Activision-Blizzard renaming their game launcher and store page from BattleNet to Blizzard Games, which went over so poorly that developers resorted to calling it “BattleNe-- I mean Blizzard Games”. I don’t think we in the food service are anywhere near as prevalent as the World of Warcraft/Hearthstone/Overwatch installer, but literally nobody lower than a regional manager has ever said “Noodles: World Kitchen”.

New uniforms! Corporate wants the uniforms to be as bright and inviting as the new paint job, so of course the new shirt color is dark green. This is compounded by the fact that apparently they’re not mandatory any more? I’ve lost count at how many times someone’s not wearing their hat or has a black jacket on over their T-shirt.

Lastly, zucchini noodles are now on the menu. They’re long peeled strips of zucchini that can be used as a substitute in any of our dishes, though we recommend them with a new romesco sauce or with our green curry. It’s actually really good, but I get customers with inane questions like, “I don’t really like zucchini, will I like this?” and I have to resist the urge to just stare.

Also, the corporate term for these is “Zoodles”, which is just the worst.

-F

Raindrops on Roses (Part Three) -- The Phantom Tollbooth

(Trailer? Wait…)

Okay, so I’m obviously not going to talk about a movie I haven’t seen, just the book it’s based on. And what it’s based on was supposed to be a children’s book about cities, or so the story goes. But Norton Juster got sidetracked, and instead wrote The Phantom Tollbooth, a children’s book about, well…

So we’re introduced to Milo, an unsatisfied young boy (if that’s even possible for a boy his age), who finds himself in possession of a model tollbooth. When he goes through it, he finds himself in the Kingdom of Wisdom. One thing leads to another and suddenly he’s on a quest to rescue Princesses Rhyme and Reason from the Castle in the Air.

The book’s twenty chapters are largely episodic. In each, Milo meets someone new, and after they talk for a bit, they either give Milo a gift, are outwitted by Milo, or both, with such wonderful characters as King Azaz the unabridged, or the Tallest Dwarf and the Smallest Giant, and I still use Chroma’s chapter as a reference to describe sunrises.

I called this “a children’s book for adults” last week because there’s no way the average twelve-year-old understands all of the wordplay hidden within the book. For example, just outside the Mountains of Ignorance, Milo and his friends meet the Everpresent Wordsnatcher, a bird who twists words around (“I didn’t mean--” “Of course you’re mean. Anyone who’d spend a night that didn’t belong to him is very mean.”) He’s not from Ignorance, though. He’s from a far away place called Context, and spends as much time as possible away from it.

I didn’t get that joke at age twelve. That’s why I think this book is worth reading (or rereading, as it were). There are a lot of details that are easily missed the first time around, and even on the fifth read-through, you’re still likely to find something new.

-F

Raindrops on Roses (Part Two) -- The Beginner's Guide

(Trailer)

Recommending games -- especially video games -- to the audience I know I have is difficult. It’s something akin to trying to cross a language barrier between two romance languages. They sound so similar, and some of the words are recognizable, but without truly immersing both sides of the conversation in a single vocabulary, it just doesn’t work. To illustrate this, one apocryphal story I read once was someone was turning in a game-design doc and the reviewer asked, “Why do you have the player use the WASD keys to move? What’s wrong with the arrow keys?”

So, of course, the second time I write about something I like, it’s going to be a video game that uses WASD keys to move.

The Beginner’s Guide (2015) by Davey Wreden is an interesting beast. It falls under the game category of “Interactive Narrative Experiences” or “Walking Simulators,” where there isn’t really any danger to the player character and instead focuses on the story the game is trying to tell. The first notable walking simulator was thechineseroom’s Dear Esther (2008), a Half Life 2 mod that told the story of an anguished man exploring an island of his own creation while narrating his experiences to the titular Esther. Dear Esther actually caused controversy when it first came out. Critics said that, because the player didn’t interact with anything, Dear Esther couldn’t be described as a “game” at all, and was more like a “movie you walk through.” That’s why last week I teased “a game that could be a movie.”

But there’s more to it than that, these days. Walking simulators are largely defined by this sense of exploration. Campo Santo’s Firewatch (2016) has players exploring a national park, Fullbright’s Gone Home (2013) explores a family home, and Wreden’s other work with William Pugh, The Stanley Parable (2011), explores a gamespace and the nature of choice, something William Pugh would further explore in his absurdly titled game: Dr. Langeslov, The Tiger, and the Terribly Cursed Emerald: A Whirlwind Heist (2015).

So what does The Beginner’s Guide explore? Well, it explores a relationship. In this game, Davey Wreden narrates his way through some of his friend’s video games, telling stories along the way detailing how these two people interacted before the latter stopped making games in 2011 (that’s not a spoiler, it’s literally in the first bits of narration in the game).

Why do I like it? That’s a trickier question. Answering goes into a small amount of spoilers, so if you’d rather go in completely blind, it’s $10 and about an hour and a half long. You can find it here.

Ready? Okay.

So the big message of the game -- at least as far as anyone can agree about -- is that it’s dangerous to insert your own interpretation into someone else’s work. It defies the concept of Death of the Author, instead almost deifying the creator, making only their viewing of a thing canon and nothing else. The problem then arises that the game very much invites its players to form their own interpretation of events. Again, Davey Wreden narrates this game, and Davey is a real person, which means that, throughout the game, the player is invited to form their own interpretation of Davey.

But if the player was just forming an image of a person, that wouldn’t be a very good story. It would be all buildup and no payoff. So expectations have to be subverted. People’s version of other people change drastically. But again, we know Davey is a real person. He gives the player his email address at the beginning of the game. And it’s this disconnect that I think makes the game clever. It’s the way that the game builds trust with someone speaking with authority that maybe they don’t have. On the first playthrough, it’s a surprise. But on each subsequent playthrough, the cracks begin to show. The game advertises itself as “the story of a person struggling to deal with something they do not understand.” What it does not say is whether that person is Davey, his friend, or you.

Again, I previewed The Beginner’s Guide as “a game that could be a movie,” and that is true. Most of the elements translate over well to film, in my opinion, even more than other games in its genre (The Stanley Parable, for instance, is so tethered to video games that even the attempt to switch mediums would be a pretentious mess). But I also said “(but shouldn’t be?)”, because while it would work, it also would mean pushing away the viewer. The narrative works in part because the player is interacting with it. It puts you on a rug, and then pulls it away.

-F

Next time on Raindrops on Roses: A children’s book for adults.

Raindrops on Roses (Part One) -- Phantom Thread

(trailer)

Nobody else I know likes this movie. I’m not saying I know a statistically significant number of people, or that I’m intrinsically better than everybody else, but it is something of note. When I bring up how good I think Phantom Thread (2017) is, the first thing I hear is, “Why?” So here’s why:

The movie just looks gorgeous. The movie is about a dressmaker in 1950’s London, so of course all the dresses are great (I’ve seen enough seasons of Project Runway to know what I’m talking about). But it also finds its aesthetic in other ways. The camera tends to hold it’s shots throughout an entire monolog, following its focal point around or, when that point is stationary, slowly zooming in. This is especially impactful about halfway through, where not only does the camera’s zoom slowly center on the scene’s focus, it slowly cuts out another element.

It sounds great. I have nothing against The Shape of Water (or Dunkirk, for that matter), but I don’t remember any particular song or moment when the soundtrack stood out to me. This is opposed to the week or so I spent only listening to Phantom Thread’s. Every song is very good, but here’s House of Woodcock to give an example of what to expect on the sound front.

Being nominated for The Academy’s Best Actor award of some kind is kind of expected at this point for Daniel Day-Lewis (should that be “was expected?”), but special mention goes to Lesley Manville and Vicky Krieps who are perhaps the most counter to Day-Lewis’ character and therefore must keep up with him for the entirety of the movie’s 130 minute runtime. They do their jobs admirably.

Last, but certainly not least, is the story. Like Paul Thomas Anderson’s other work with Day-Lewis, There Will Be Blood, it’s more interested in its three leads and how they interact with each other. It’s the story of a battle for dominance, but they’re all related to each other so everybody has to keep up the niceties around other people. And when things finally come to a head…

Well, I don’t want to spoil the movie, now do I?

So yes, do watch it. It’s very very good.

-F

Next time on Raindrops on Roses: A game that could be a film (but shouldn’t?)

Raindrops on Roses (Part Zero) -- A Change of Pace

I think I’ve been complaining too much. That is to say, I think I’ve gotten into this writing loop where, when trying to think of something to write about for this blog, my mind immediately goes to picking something apart, to reflecting negatively on some subject that crosses my mind at some point during the week prior. Even now I’ve entered into some sort of meta-complaining, where I’m reflecting on the direction this blog has taken.

The problem even there is that I haven’t been complaining in the actual content of these posts. This means the “I’ve been complaining too much” thought doesn’t hold up. Just the mentality behind it. So even if these posts have been well-reasoned analyses of problems that totally exist outside of my own head, it’s hindered by how I go about writing them.

I feel like I’ve been associating negativity with the style that I write in. I tend to write in long, meandering sentences that lose the point halfway through, only barely coming back to the original point if they do at all. And I’m not sure how to change this style -- even if I want to! -- without forcing myself to do so. The same goes for the mood of these pieces; if I want to get out of this negative headspace I’m going to have to force myself to.

Like the Terraforming (Part One) post from late January, this is more of an introduction to a writing idea I’ve been developing for a week or two. I want to get away from this headspace that this blog can put me in, so every once in a while I’m going to try to talk about some things I really like. Some of them might be a little alien to my readers -- just because some nerdy things are accepted doesn’t mean they’re not still pretty obscure -- so part of the series is to introduce these things to you. And in the end, I hope you find something you enjoy in these posts as well.

-F

The Way People Don't Talk

One of the more enjoyable parts of writing, for me, is writing down a conversation. It can be difficult for me to find a character’s narrative voice -- that is to say, how the narrator talks about a character or how they think about themselves -- but once they open their mouths their entire personality comes pouring out. Sometimes it can be as simple as adding a nervous tic, or having them use the word “like” as, like, a comma, but it can add a lot of personality to even the simplest of statements.

Which is why I was a little annoyed when I got a comment on a workshopped story that simply said, “Nobody talks like that.”

So I understand the point of criticism. I understand that it is the author’s job to accommodate to the reader and not the other way around. If the comment were a little bit less absolute (for example, “It doesn’t seem like this character would say that.”), I would understand that. And maybe I should have a thicker skin for this sort of thing, especially if I’m going to continue writing. Admittedly, the particular line in question (“I, uhm, what?”) wasn’t the pinnacle of wit (unless you take Polonius at face value).

I also don’t mean to question this particular critic’s experience. I don’t know him personally, but he is definitely more experienced than I in a multitude of fields. If he says he’s never heard someone in real life say that, then I believe him. With over 7.6 billion people in the world, though, there have to be people he hasn’t heard.

In the end, though, I did end up changing the line.

-F

The Questions, Not The Mints

I don’t know exactly how to phrase this in a way that makes any sort of sense, but I don’t hate icebreaker questions and I don’t not hate them. I find the ritual that goes around them tedious (i.e., “Let’s go around the room and say our names and what you would do if you found yourself arm wrestling a bear.”), but questions themselves not as much (though the arm-wrestling a bear one would probably get an eye roll from me and not much else). I sympathize with people who hate them; they can often turn into inside joke factories that do nothing but alienate people not in the loop. But observing how people deal with unexpected queries has to have some amount of merit.

I think sometimes people don’t like icebreaker questions because the answers are all the same. There’s a moment in the movie Adaptation. written by Charlie and Donald Kaufman where Nicolas Cage’s character exclaims, “People who say Jesus or Einstein are liars.” That particular question was “Which person, living or dead, would you most want to have dinner with?” which of course is a boring question. It’s a stereotypical icebreaker at this point. People already know their answers. Even if they are Jesus and Einstein.

So what I suggest are some off-the-wall icebreaker questions. I’ve prepared five below:

What is the least interesting thing about you? Why did you think that answer will still “break the ice?”

The apocalypse has finally arrived! Assuming you survive the initial wave of casualties, how long do you think you would last? What regrets would you have?

People always wonder what animals would say if they could speak, but they don’t take into account all the microorganisms inside their own mouth. If you had to rely on these microscopic cells to speak for you for twenty four hours, what do you think the consequences would be the week after?

What scientific breakthrough do you wish would happen, even if it would be totally pointless?

What is your favorite icebreaker question and why didn’t you ask it first?

-F