Okay so obviously I'm a straight dude, but other guys really think Kratos is the kind of character straight/bi women and gay/bi men find attractive? Really? Really?
Speaking as a queer dude: Muscle worship and bara definitely put a lot of emphasis on that body type, but at least in the first game, the full package is pretty much entirely a heterosexual male power fantasy embodied, and a very specific flavour of it as well. The design in the game's sequel, though—incidentally where the character shows some depth and pathos—is decidedly sexier, but that's more because he looks and acts like an actual human with feelings, which is intrinsically sexy no matter who you're asking for the most part.
(Although terrifying killing machines can be hot. I'd just rather they looked like Neferpitou or Asuramaru... >///>)
I remember "She-Bop" being pretty controversial for its subject matter back in 1984, but "I Touch Myself"? Not an eye batted. Q-94 (which did things like, say, editing the "Sex" out of "I Want Your Sex") ran it completely uncut.
Mm, I've never been a huge fan of the "completionism is bad" angle of Undertale
Most of that particular angle is contained in the Genocide route which is a really odd way of going about it. It becomes this weird thing where a game is criticizing the notion of wanting to get a complete thematic appraisal of it, and I don't know how well that applies to the idea of "not wanting to let something go." Plus, the theme of "don't get yourself too involved in a game" just strikes me as... rather trivial? As an element of a larger point about the value of letting things go it's functional, I guess.
I don't know if that's necessarily a problem with the game itself though; it's really more an issue I have with the way the game is interpreted.
Like, if it really is a game about how you shouldn't bother 100%ing a game and how that kind of thing is detrimental to growth as a person, it's weird because the bulk of that message is contained within the confines of something treated mechanically as a legitimate playstyle.
But in my mind, the point of "let this particular media go" moralizing is to convey that past a certain point, you won't be able to get more content out of something, and it's better to look inward and understand what the work meant to you as opposed to what it can give to you. (I think ME3's original ending was a pretty beautiful example of that, actually.) But the Genocide route does provide additional thematic context to the work as a whole, and in doing so, undercuts that supposed message.
And again, I don't know if that's the fault of the game itself! But it's certainly an aspect of discourse that I disagree with because I don't think it's supported by the text.
I sorta psyched myself out as I was writing that and it was left rather confusing as a result. This may seem obnoxious but I'm gonna put some retroactive emphasis on the part of it that I think most sums up my thoughts:
But in my mind, the point of "let this particular media go" moralizing is to convey that past a certain point, you won't be able to get more content out of something, and it's better to look inward and understand what the work meant to you as opposed to what it can give to you. (I think ME3's original ending was a pretty beautiful example of that, actually.) But the Genocide route does provide additional thematic context to the work as a whole, and in doing so, undercuts that supposed message.
I sorta psyched myself out as I was writing that and it was left rather confusing as a result. This may seem obnoxious but I'm gonna put some retroactive emphasis on the part of it that I think most sums up my thoughts:
But in my mind, the point of "let this particular media go" moralizing is to convey that past a certain point, you won't be able to get more content out of something, and it's better to look inward and understand what the work meant to you as opposed to what it can give to you. (I think ME3's original ending was a pretty beautiful example of that, actually.) But the Genocide route does provide additional thematic context to the work as a whole, and in doing so, undercuts that supposed message.
And that's the point: You'll eventually run out, and trying to glean more from the story by going against the spirit of the game that made you feel so strongly about it in the first place is the wrong way to go about getting more, rather than, say, writing fanfiction or video essays or something.
My point is that having the genocide route be its own experience with genuine thematic weight undercuts the point about the hollowness of 100%ing a game.
Not really, given its mechanics and ultimate narrative purpose. Setting aside the fact that it's a wry tribute to all those goofy "cursed game cartridge" creepastas, the fact that there is an option but it requires rejecting the entire spirit that the game was created in has its own weight. Maybe you wouldn't have done it that way, but it doesn't defeat the point.
Reading the description, I must admit that is a fair criticism of the MCU, and an actually novel way of looking at it.
I'll watch the video later.
I'll be interested in what you think of it. It was pretty insightful for me when they brought up Temp music, because I didn't really know that was a thing, but it being a thing makes perfect sense in hindsight.
Man is a most complex simple creature: see what he weaves, and how base his reasons for doing so.
Nier has a thing where the very last ending you can get (after playing the second half of the game a bunch of times, revisiting old places with new perspective), where you can choose for the protagonist to give up their entire existence to save the life of one of the supporting cast. And that means the game erasing your save file in a very visual way. Your skills, your items, your weapons; everything in the menu, gone.
It's kind of saying; "Okay, we've been through this a dozen times, this is the last thing you can do. Good bye, don't come back."
Why this? Why now? I'm Going to Tell You a Secret packages a live album from Madonna's 2004 Re-Invention Tour along with a DVD documentary directed by Jonas Akerlund and originally aired on MTV and VH1 last year (what, Madonna no longer commands a big-screen release?). Both discs are riddled with songs from her woebegone 2003 album, American Life, which was such a profound flop that her follow-up was labeled a comeback by simple virtue of its not sucking. The generally fabulous Confessions on a Dance Floor, despite its flaws, worked overtime to undo the damage perpetrated upon Madonna's career by American Life, and it proved she could still do stellar dance music and be, you know, fun. So why remind fans of something you've worked so hard to make them forget?
Maybe Madonna wants the last laugh at critics who panned her most "personal", "substantial", "topical", "political", and "ambitious" album to date. After all, Re-Invention was one of the highest-grossing tours of 2004. That makes it successful, but it doesn't necessarily make it any good, as the live disc-- Madonna's first ever-- handily proves. The show starts with Madonna reading from scripture, specifically the Book of Revelations, in a spaced-out but serious voice. The track is called "The Beast Within", and it's not exactly a welcoming start to a pop show. Describing a "beast with ten horns and seven heads," she intones: "And the whole earth followed the beast with wonder/And they worshipped the beast saying who is like the beast and who can fight against the beast/It opened its mouth and uttered blasphemous words against God."
As if the song itself weren't enough, "The Beast Within" segues smoothly into... wait for it... "Vogue". That progression, from revelation to rump-shaking, from religious doom to secular dance, is hilarious and utterly absurd. I'm Going to Tell You a Secret gains almost all of its entertainment value from such kitschy extremes and bizarre juxtapositions. The full minute of gunfire and explosions that kicks off "American Life" is the pinnacle of the show's oblivious excess, and that song's pro-Madonna metal-rap is the album's most ridiculous moment. But then there's her cover of "Imagine", written by a celebrity as out of touch with real life as Madonna herself. She even prefaces it with the solemn request, "Please listen carefully to the words of this next song. We need to make the world a better place."
I'm Going to Tell You a Secret is all the funnier for the seriousness with which Madonna attacks such moments, which gives the proceedings a camp quality. Not good camp, like Liza with a Z, but good-bad camp, like The Apple. The show would be better if the songs were better, obviously. She highlights too many of the bad tracks off American Life, but even when she does dip into her impressive back catalog, the results are less than stellar. "Vogue" is the same version we've been hearing for sixteen years, and despite her introduction that "this is a no-sitting-down song", her tepid version of "Like a Prayer" doesn't give us any reason to stand up. It's the final set (well, most of it anyway) that reveals what the show might have been. Not only does she have some amazing songs in her canon ("Holiday", "Into the Groove", "Music"), she possesses the talent, power, and money to make them exciting and fun.
The documentary fills in some of the head-scratching moments from the album: Madonna does a simple backbend during "The Beast Within", pathetic in her earnest but mistaken conviction that it is both erotically suggestive and gymnastically impressive; her dancers, dressed in fatigues, buck wildly to the explosions that begin "American Life"; and while the bagpipes play, she and her posse sport a kind of hip-hop kilt that's one of the most unsexy articles of clothing ever designed. But the film is more noteworthy for the access director Akerlund has to the "real" Madonna. His camera follows her to dancer auditions, to her dressing room, to her hotel room, to her romps with her children (Rocco, by the way, steals every scene he's in, hilariously deflating the pretensions of everyone around him).
While her show is empty spectacle-- which would be perfectly fine if she weren't so obviously desperate to say something substantial-- her life as portrayed in this documentary is cloistered and withdrawn, marked by hours of quiet Kabbalah study but very little self-reflection. Whether intentionally or not, Akerlund reveals Madonna's supreme lack of self-awareness, from her embarrassing attempts at poetry (it'd be cruel to quote her verse here) to the condescending tone she takes with her dancers to her incredibly irresponsible visit to Rachel's Tomb despite the warnings of her host country and her security team.
But the real surprise on both the album and the documentary is that Madonna doesn't seem to be enjoying herself at all. "I had some fun back then," she remarks to Akerlund's camera, referring to her wild days as a Material Girl and Sex goddess, "but you know, fun's overrated." No, it isn't-- Confessions taught us that much. On I'm Going to Tell You a Secret, Madonna is deadly serious about "waking people up." The secret she's going to tell us is the secret of life, the key to world peace and personal fulfillment. She'd pompously have us believe she's got it all figured out. Worse, clouded by her unwavering sense of mission, Madonna completely misses the fact that her songs have become a shared language among people who have very little common ground. Her music has been changing the world for more than two decades now, but sadly she seems unaware of this, her one true "secret" to pop cultural unity.
Reading the description, I must admit that is a fair criticism of the MCU, and an actually novel way of looking at it.
I'll watch the video later.
I'll be interested in what you think of it. It was pretty insightful for me when they brought up Temp music, because I didn't really know that was a thing, but it being a thing makes perfect sense in hindsight.
I've finally watched it, and I fully agree with it.
It's funny how, with the exception of the 300 music, the replaced music always sounds like a pale imitation of the original music.
Todd seemed to be a little too fixated on deriving literal meaning from the lyrics and also I kinda felt like he was reading smugness into the band
he seems to do that a lot and I kinda don't get it if it's just part of his "le frustrated pop man" shtick or if he actually just doesn't understand non-literalism.
Todd seemed to be a little too fixated on deriving literal meaning from the lyrics and also I kinda felt like he was reading smugness into the band
he seems to do that a lot and I kinda don't get it if it's just part of his "le frustrated pop man" shtick or if he actually just doesn't understand non-literalism.
I kinda suspect it’s actually largely the latter, looking from his Twitter feed.
I think that's a part of the shtick, which doesn't work as well when it's a convenient way of obfuscating his views or leaning on ironic humor, as opposed to his direct commentary is actually just fine for what he tries to do.
Todd seemed to be a little too fixated on deriving literal meaning from the lyrics and also I kinda felt like he was reading smugness into the band
he seems to do that a lot and I kinda don't get it if it's just part of his "le frustrated pop man" shtick or if he actually just doesn't understand non-literalism.
I kinda suspect it’s actually largely the latter, looking from his Twitter feed.
I do remember him saying once that the lyrics of "Wonderwall" mean nothing but it doesn't matter at all in regards to the song's quality.
Comments
(Although terrifying killing machines can be hot. I'd just rather they looked like Neferpitou or Asuramaru... >///>)
And that's the point: You'll eventually run out, and trying to glean more from the story by going against the spirit of the game that made you feel so strongly about it in the first place is the wrong way to go about getting more, rather than, say, writing fanfiction or video essays or something.
^ I saw that but forgot to post it. Good vid.
My point is that having the genocide route be its own experience with genuine thematic weight undercuts the point about the hollowness of 100%ing a game.
New Every Frame a Painting.
I'll watch the video later.
live album from Madonna's 2004 Re-Invention Tour along with a DVD
documentary directed by Jonas Akerlund and originally aired on MTV and
VH1 last year (what, Madonna no longer commands a big-screen release?).
Both discs are riddled with songs from her woebegone 2003 album, American Life,
which was such a profound flop that her follow-up was labeled a
comeback by simple virtue of its not sucking. The generally fabulous Confessions on a Dance Floor, despite its flaws,
worked overtime to undo the damage perpetrated upon Madonna's career by American Life,
and it proved she could still do stellar dance music and be, you know,
fun. So why remind fans of something you've worked so hard to make them
forget?
Maybe Madonna wants the last laugh at critics who panned her most
"personal", "substantial", "topical", "political", and "ambitious" album
to date. After all, Re-Invention was one of the highest-grossing tours
of 2004. That makes it successful, but it doesn't necessarily make it
any good, as the live disc-- Madonna's first ever-- handily proves. The
show starts with Madonna reading from scripture, specifically the Book
of Revelations, in a spaced-out but serious voice. The track is called
"The Beast Within", and it's not exactly a welcoming start to a pop
show. Describing a "beast with ten horns and seven heads," she intones:
"And the whole earth followed the beast with wonder/And they worshipped
the beast saying who is like the beast and who can fight against the
beast/It opened its mouth and uttered blasphemous words against God."
As if the song itself weren't enough, "The Beast Within" segues
smoothly into... wait for it... "Vogue". That progression, from
revelation to rump-shaking, from religious doom to secular dance, is
hilarious and utterly absurd. I'm Going to Tell You a Secret
gains almost all of its entertainment value from such kitschy extremes
and bizarre juxtapositions. The full minute of gunfire and explosions
that kicks off "American Life" is the pinnacle of the show's oblivious
excess, and that song's pro-Madonna metal-rap is the album's most
ridiculous moment. But then there's her cover of "Imagine", written by a
celebrity as out of touch with real life as Madonna herself. She even
prefaces it with the solemn request, "Please listen carefully to the
words of this next song. We need to make the world a better place."
I'm Going to Tell You a Secret is all the funnier for the
seriousness with which Madonna attacks such moments, which gives the
proceedings a camp quality. Not good camp, like Liza with a Z, but good-bad camp, like The Apple.
The show would be better if the songs were better, obviously.
She highlights too many of the bad tracks off American Life, but even when she does dip into her impressive back catalog, the results are less than stellar. "Vogue" is the same version we've been
hearing for sixteen years, and despite her introduction that "this is a
no-sitting-down song", her tepid version of "Like a Prayer" doesn't give
us any reason to stand up. It's the final set (well, most of it anyway)
that reveals what the show might have been. Not only does she have some
amazing songs in her canon ("Holiday", "Into the Groove", "Music"), she
possesses the talent, power, and money to make them exciting and fun.
The documentary fills in some of the head-scratching moments from
the album: Madonna does a simple backbend during "The Beast Within",
pathetic in her earnest but mistaken conviction that it is both
erotically suggestive and gymnastically impressive; her dancers, dressed
in fatigues, buck wildly to the explosions that begin "American Life";
and while the bagpipes play, she and her posse sport a kind of hip-hop
kilt that's one of the most unsexy articles of clothing ever designed.
But the film is more noteworthy for the access director Akerlund has to
the "real" Madonna. His camera follows her to dancer auditions, to her
dressing room, to her hotel room, to her romps with her children (Rocco,
by the way, steals every scene he's in, hilariously deflating the
pretensions of everyone around him).
While her show is empty spectacle-- which would be perfectly fine if
she weren't so obviously desperate to say something substantial-- her
life as portrayed in this documentary is cloistered and withdrawn,
marked by hours of quiet Kabbalah study but very little self-reflection.
Whether intentionally or not, Akerlund reveals Madonna's supreme lack
of self-awareness, from her embarrassing attempts at poetry (it'd be
cruel to quote her verse here) to the condescending tone she takes with
her dancers to her incredibly irresponsible visit to Rachel's Tomb
despite the warnings of her host country and her security team.
But the real surprise on both the album and the documentary is that
Madonna doesn't seem to be enjoying herself at all. "I had some fun back then,"
she remarks to Akerlund's camera, referring to her wild days as a Material Girl
and Sex goddess, "but you know, fun's overrated." No, it isn't-- Confessions taught us that much.
On I'm Going to Tell You a Secret, Madonna is deadly serious about "waking people up."
The secret she's going to tell us is the secret of life, the key to world peace and
personal fulfillment. She'd pompously have us believe she's got it all
figured out. Worse, clouded by her unwavering sense of mission, Madonna
completely misses the fact that her songs have become a shared language
among people who have very little common ground. Her music has been
changing the world for more than two decades now, but sadly she seems
unaware of this, her one true "secret" to pop cultural unity.
Do Trump, Lindsay. You know you want to.
I can't wait to watch this one when I get home.
On the note of American New Wave bands, I am pretty flabbergasted that Todd forgot about Oingo Boingo.
I also remember you being into Bomis Prendin way back, and knowing about WFMU, making you a rare specimen in most of my circles of friends.