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blonde, freckles, skinny, short

Held you. You was
so small. Didn’t want to
tell how it felt to tower
over you; you, a sea
of freckles that you tried to
hide behind powder
and big (oh god, huge) eyes
that halt life’s momentum.

As mush, utterly,
in thin pale hands.

Could throw you, I could,
far and away from me;
was that small.
Hated being small.
Wore high, high boots
and low, low tops, but you was
always small. Younger in years
and yet your soul the wiser by far.

And we could never be,
could we? You was good,
I was bad. Tale neverending—
how’d that go again?

“You contain yourself,”
your words to the point. “Passion burns;
I want to see you, feel you
burn brightly in the sky.
Let yourself go. Don’t run away,
don’t dread. You will hurt me as
hurtful is your way. No, simple man,
perfection is a lie, but truth is so
beautiful. Be you; don’t spare me. I am here
when the curtain falls.”

“Can’t. I seen pains,”
my words of the fearful, “in a forgotten
place where the toil of
love brings down the
house built on mud. Poorly
chosen, unwisely rushed.”
And yet, brave soul, you gave me hands,
and rested the freckly face against
my coffin of sentiment.
Inhaled the gold curls; fell (for a while).

Freckles bared, small hands
reaching. I could not hold for long.

The Indecisiveness’ the Thing

Shakespeare’s
“Hamlet, Prince of Denmark” portrays a man who confronts great
challenges in his long and troubled quest to avenge his father’s
death. However, it is undoubtedly Hamlet’s own choices stemming
from his indecisive nature that create the biggest hurdles in his
plans for vengeance. There are many reasons for Hamlet’s
indecision throughout the play, most of which come from a lack of
opportunity, too much analysis and thought, issue with depression and
melancholy, issues with his mother and Oedipal feelings towards her,
and finally doubt both in the ghost that set him upon the quest in
the first place and his own motives.

From the onset of the first scene with Hamlet we find him accompanied
by other characters nearly all the time, and ironically the only
character Hamlet does not find himself alone with is Laertes, the
very man who would wound and lead him to his death in the final
scene. As such, Hamlet has less opportunities to act out his revenge
because he is not free to wander about alone, and is forced to plot
an elaborate plan to first find out if Claudius is indeed guilty
(doubt being another factor in his indecisiveness, covered later in
this paper), then to actually kill Claudius, which ends up happening
more as a result of actions that were beyond his control than his own
clandestine scheming. Of course as anyone who knows the story of
Hamlet is aware, he was actually presented with the one opportunity
to kill Claudius at the end of Act III, scene iii, when he comes upon
Claudius in the middle of prayer. He decides, at the last moment,
not to kill Claudius when he has the perfect opportunity to do so.
As Hamlet states, “O, this is hire and salary, not revenge”
(Shakespeare 1507). He
tells himself that to kill Claudius during his prayer would send him
to heaven, which is a mercy that Hamlet’s father did not get when
he was killed in his sleep. Of course the ultimate irony in the
scene is that Claudius was not praying sincerely, and had Hamlet
killed him Claudius would not have gone to heaven: “My words fly
up, my thoughts remain below: / Words without thoughts never to
heaven go” (Shakespeare 1507).

If
there is one thing Hamlet does not lack it’s introspective
analysis. All of “Hamlet” can be considered one long internal
monologue, even if Hamlet technically only has six soliloquies in
which he speaks to himself. It is to the point where one could
consider Hamlet to be much too self-critical. He simply thinks too
much. In Act 2, scene ii, Hamlet states to Rosencrantz and
Guildenstern, “there is nothing either good or bad but thinking
makes it so” (Shakespeare 1477). So, even Hamlet himself remarks
on the notion that too much thinking can amplify an emotion or
situation beyond the simplicity of what it really is. That Hamlet
should see this flaw in himself and yet continue to perpetuate it is
somewhat odd, but then many of Hamlet’s actions seemed in contrast
to his goal of getting revenge. Another aspect of his goal that
Hamlet considers is the fact that he has to kill a man. When
considering conscience Hamlet remarks:

Thus
conscience does make cowards of us all,

And
thus the native hue of resolution

Is
sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,

And
enterprises of great pitch and moment

With
this regard their currents turn awry

And
lose the name of action (Shakespeare 1490).

Too much thought,
then, could be viewed as a result of the conscience, and all momentum
gained in the initial flurry of decidedness is lost when the
conscience comes into play and consequences are considered. Thinking
too much about what he is striving to do leads Hamlet to question if
the delays in his plan are caused by “Bestial oblivion” or by
“some craven scruple / Of thinking too precisely on the event . .
.” (Shakespeare 1520). He begins to wonder if, perhaps, thinking
too much about what he has to do is causing him to have second
thoughts. Once again Hamlet himself tells the viewer or reader that
he is having difficulty remaining resolute in his plan to kill
Claudius.

Considering
the internal conflict in Hamlet it is perhaps not surprising that he
should feel depression, causing him to ponder his thoughts and
actions from a resigned point of view and lead to more indecision and
hesitation. Hamlet’s depressed mood is established from the first
scene, when Claudius urges Hamlet to snap out of his mourning, which
he terms “obstinate condolement” and “unmanly” (Shakespeare
1451). Hamlet soliloquizes, “But break my heart, for I must hold
my tongue” (Shakespeare 1453). Hamlet wants to speak truths and
let it be known how he feels, however he holds himself back and is
thus driven further into his depressed mood by his reluctance to
speak openly about his emotions. Hamlet’s shifts in mood, which
appear to those around him as madness, would have been symptoms of
one of the so-called humors known as melancholy (Hunt 125). The term
“melancholia,” in Shakespeare’s time, encompassed a variety of
psychological ailments including depression and schizophrenia, and
Hamlet is even known in literature as the “Melancholy Dane”
(“Melancholia”). Given Hamlet’s state of mind after the loss
of his father, the duty required of him, and his uncle’s marriage
to his mother, Hamlet could very well have been suffering from
serious depression beyond the scope of mere emotional sadness, and
those in a state of depression are anything but sure of themselves.

The relation between Hamlet and Gertrude, his mother, plays an
important role both in the hatred for Claudius and Hamlet’s
indecision and careful planning, for as the ghost warned him, “nor
let thy soul contrive / Against thy mother aught. Leave her to
heaven…” (Shakespeare 1464). Gertrude
becomes greatly concerned for Hamlet as his initial mourning over the
death of his father extends into depression and perceived madness,
particularly by the time of the play within a play that takes place
in Act III. Likewise, Hamlet’s feelings towards and about his
mother are strong throughout the play. The relationship is
established during the court scene in Act I, scene ii, when Gertrude
tells Hamlet, “Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, / And let
thine eye look like a friend on Denmark” (Shakespeare 1450). A
loving request, certainly, but Hamlet’s reproachful response later
in the scene is somewhat less endearing: “Seems, madam! nay it is;
I know not ‘seems’” (Shakespeare 1450). This establishes that
something certainly is rotten in the state of Denmark for Hamlet to
speak to his mother in such a way. After the ghost has warned Hamlet
not to bother his mother he becomes more aggressive regarding her
relationship with Claudius. One rather large point in Hamlet’s
disdain for Claudius is the fact that he married his mother so soon
after his father died, and in fact he makes frequent references to
how little time has passed between King Hamlet’s death and
Gertrude’s remarriage, the first instance being at the court in
scene ii: “O, God, a beast, that wants discourse of reason, / Would
have mourn’d longer–married with my uncle, / … Within a month…”
(Shakespeare 1452). Indeed it would seem that upon the marriage to
Claudius, Gertrude became inseparable from him in Hamlet’s eyes.
He refers to Claudius as “dear mother” since “man and wife is
one flesh” (Shakespeare 1518). Claudius essentially takes the role
of Hamlet’s father; in terms of the classic Oedipal complex it
means that the son, on some unconscious level, wishes to kill the
father in order to be with the mother (Hunt 138). Killing Claudius
would clear the path to Gertrude’s bed, and the feelings roused
within Hamlet as a result cause him great frustration that he takes
out on both Gertrude and his lover Ophelia, declaring to the latter
in Act III, scene ii, “Or, if thou wilt needs / marry, marry a
fool; for wise men know well enough / what monsters you make of them”
(Shakespeare 1491). Following Polonius’ murder, Hamlet becomes
more obsessed with the physical aspects of Gertrude’s marriage to
Claudius, and becomes abusive until the ghost appears to remind
Hamlet of his promise not to hurt his mother; “O, step between her
and her fighting soul! / Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works. /
Speak to her, Hamlet” (Shakespeare 1511). Hamlet calms down, but
not before demanding that she promise to not sleep in the same bed as
Claudius.

That scene brings up what is perhaps the driving force behind
Hamlet’s indecision in Acts I and II: the ghost. The wandering
spirit of his deceased father, doomed to wander the Earth in
purgatory as a result of being murdered before he could absolved for
his sins. He begins by believing the ghost in Act I when he states
that “this vision here, / It is an honest Ghost” (Shakespeare
1466). However, he soon begins to question the validity of the
ghost’s request for vengeance. As he remarks in the second
soliloquy when considering that the ghost of his father may be the
devil tricking him, “Out of my weakness and my melancholy, / As he
is very potent with such spirits, / Abuses me to damn me…”
(Shakespeare 1487). He finally tests the ghost’s claims regarding
Claudius in Act III when Hamlet tells Horatio that Claudius’
reaction to the Mousetrap will reveal if “It is a damnèd Ghost
that we have seen” (Shakespeare 1495). When Claudius calls for the
lights and leaves during the play, Hamlet confidently tells Horatio,
“I’ll take the Ghost’s word for a thousand pound”
(Shakespeare 1501). His doubt over the ghost’s claim regarding
Claudius is finally settled, allowing for some resolve in an
otherwise tremulous psyche.

While there are indeed many reasons that might explain Hamlet’s
indecisiveness it is ultimately Hamlet’s doubt in himself and his
ambitious motives that hold him back. In Act III, Hamlet tells
Ophelia that although he is moderately virtuous, “yet I could
accuse me of such things that it were better / my mother had not
borne me: I am very proud, / revengeful, ambitious…” (Shakespeare
1491). Hamlet knows full well that he is not infallible; he is no
saint in the sordid affairs that occur within the walls of Elsinore
after his arrival. In Act III, Hamlet tells Rosencrantz that his
“distemper” is because “I lack advancement” (Shakespeare
1503), meaning that while Claudius occupies the throne, Hamlet
cannot. He ponders the possibility that he is jealous of the fact
that Claudius took the throne when it should have rightfully been
passed on to Hamlet after the death of his father. Hamlet tells
Horatio that Claudius had “Popped in between th’election and my
hopes” (Shakespeare 1544), indicating that Hamlet had anticipated
being chosen by the people to succeed his father. This would of
course also sow seeds of distrust both in his own ability to lead as
he believed he would have been voted into the royal office, and in
his ability to separate the goal of vengeance for his father’s
death from his own ambitions for the crown. Hamlet is left to doubt
himself until the end of the play when he says with dying breath
after watching Gertrude, Claudius, and Laertes die: “Heaven make
thee free of it! I follow thee,” and to Horatio, “But let it be.
Horatio, I am dead…” (Shakespeare 1552).

Hamlet
the Indecisive. There is perhaps no title that sums up the character
of Hamlet better, and indeed describes why the play takes as many
turns as it does throughout the path to vengeance (literary and
dramatic plot devices not withstanding). Hamlet was of course in a
very stressed state of mind and thus did have reason to consider his
choices carefully and ponder his true intentions, but there is no
doubt that such indecision is what led Hamlet down the twisted path
which leads to not only Claudius’ death but that of himself and
several others. One cannot help but wonder if more decisive action
would have led to a quick vengeance and less drama (no pun intended)
for the Prince of Denmark.

Works Cited

Hunt, Marvin W. Looking
for Hamlet. New York: Palgrave
Macmillan, 2007.

“Melancholia.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. 1
Apr 2008, 00:31 UTC. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc. 5 May 2008.
<http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Melancholia&oldid=202431586>.

Shakespeare, William. “Hamlet, Prince of
Denmark.” Living Literature: An
Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, and Drama.
Ed. John C. Brereton. New York: Longman, 2007. 1443-1554.

first orgasm

There are not many songs, or singers for that matter, that affect me emotionally. In fact I pride myself on not being one of the weak ones that weep while watching a poignant film or crack at the sound of a beautiful melody. It does not matter how apt or resonant the music is, I simply will not let it happen.

So when I say that “first orgasm” as sung by Amanda Palmer and performed by The Dresden Dolls reaches me to the core of my being then you may just grasp how much I dig it. It means this song, the words coming from Palmer’s voice and the heart-wrenching piano accompaniment, all combine into such a powerful tune that an average uncouth guy in his mid twenties verging on the edge of fratbrodom is left in awe every time the song plays. It’s as if I remain frozen in time, in space, and all that exists around me ceases to be. Listening to this song is, in fact, a special occasion, and I am glad that such a song never makes it to the public airwaves because I shudder to think what would happen if I should be struck by a “first orgasm” attack on the public roadways. No mailbox or parked car would be safe.

Overly dramatic description of my own experiences with the song aside, it really is a great listen. Palmer’s voice is steady and unbelievably beautiful, and she certainly holds her notes well. However, it’s the moments where the voice wavers that get to me. In those moments she does more than sing. She conveys the hard lament of a persona that experiences the sexual nirvana of the lonely. The song begins very serenely, with the woman describing her morning routine and describing what she sees as she sits at her computer. During the fun she wanders off and decides that a little relief is in order, and in this song it is exactly that: relief. A momentary distraction, a tiny sneeze… another part of the routine. Not quite the great and wondrous experience spoken of by some and hoped for by many more, and that is perhaps why the words in the song resonated so strongly. Never before had I considered that the act of masturbation is merely part of a routine, something to get out of the way so that I may continue with the next item on the to-do list. Palmer expresses the notion well in this song and complements the message with the beauty of her singing and ivory tinkling. As she climaxes so does the music, becoming more dramatic to keep in step with the real highlight of the piece which is Palmer’s rousing vocals, until at last she peaks and begins the somber downslide, declaring that other people only complicate things. She can take of it herself. If only that were true…

first orgasm

it is a thursday
i get up early
it is a challenge
i’m usually lazy

i make some coffee
I eat some rice chex
and then i sit down
to check my inbox

i only read a word or two
i stare across the street and see the churches and the blue

the first orgasm of the morning
is cold and hard as hell
there won’t be any second coming
as far as i can tell

i arch my back cause
i’m very close now
it’s very cold here
by the window

there are some school kids
yelling and running
i barely notice
that i am cumming

the first orgasm of the morning
is like a fire drill
it’s nice to have a little warning
but not enjoyable

i am too busy to have friends
a lover would just complicate my plans
so i will never look for love again
i’m taking matters into my own hands

i think i could last at least a week without someone to hold me
i think i could last at least a week without someone to hold me
won’t you hold me?

http://www.dresdendolls.com/downloads_n_lyrics/lyrics/firstorgasm.htm

Time taken to find and purchase the song when I realized I needed to listen to it right now: 58 seconds. Number of times “first orgasm” played during the sporadic writing of this: 46.
Were you expecting a juicy story about the first coming? Well, I’ll leave that to you.

there are days

There are days…

There is beauty in everything. There is an aura, akin to a faint light but not quite. I see it in the pine trees lined along the walk next to the east building. Someone planted those trees; someone cares for those trees. The children play underneath those trees as they laugh and giggle, holding hands as they are sheparded towards the playground next to the volleyball area over in that corner of the campus. The parents watch proudly as they walk away from their beloved little innocent angels, and I swear on some mornings I see tears in some of their eyes. I fear I, too, would shed tears if I had children. It would be the first time I would shed tears of joy, but there’s a first time for everything. This beauty permeates the people, the trees, the richly worn wooden bench that looks like it would be a tranquil place on which to contemplate the meaning of life (or at the very least read a book). In the sky are clouds piled high, mountains of fluff above and beyond it all and I wish, how I wish, I could be up there to see the beauty up close. I don’t wish for much, because really who am I, and who are you, to wish for anything? I just want to fly.

Inside is not like outside, not even close, not at all, but we always have to go inside. Maria is always there. Beautiful Maria. Cinnamon-tan Maria. Her wrinkles and lovingly round body are so warm. Her beauty shines, as does all beauty at this point. A tall blonde in tall boots and tall pants smiles as I approach the counter and my heart and my mind are ready to bust loose and take her along for the ride. If I reach.

“Hola, Maria. Que linda te ves esta manana.”

“Ay, tu. No seas loco y dime lo que quieres.” She blushes and tries not to smile. Ay, Maria, how she tries.

Hatred washes over me. The hatred for the fat man sitting at the cafe table, his food piled high and cheeks jiggling in a sickening display of cellulose and fat. His tiny little spectacles squeezed around the fat along his temples and above his ears. Fat head.

It’s one of those days.

A Clerk and a Traveler Make the Tough Choices

There
are moments in life when we as rational human beings must make
choices. The choices we make are sometimes small: the type of milk
to buy, or which film to watch at the movie theater. If we are
fortunate, we must make more important choices; choices that require
deliberation and careful thought. But it is the simple act of
choosing that is perhaps the most important aspect. It is not the
end result, beneficial or otherwise, that matters. In John Updike’s
short story “A & P” and Robert Frost’s poem “The Road Not
Taken,” we see that it is the choice itself that makes all the
difference.

Facing
a choice means facing more than one possibility and considering those
possibilities, applying thought and knowledge obtained from past
experience. In “A & P” the protagonist, Sammy, faces a
choice when he decides to quit his job as a grocery store clerk after
his manager Lengel publicly humiliates several girls for wearing what
he believed were inappropriate outfits. Initially, it appears that
Sammy decides to quit in order to get the girls’ attention; a vain
attempt at gaining their favor. However, after questioning himself
on whether or not it was a wise decision, he decides it is and sticks
to it. As he says it is “fatal” not to follow through on such a
gesture (Updike 62), which demonstrates that Sammy considered the
decision and the possible outcomes and ultimately decided that the
choice to quit would ultimately be the better choice if only to
retain his self-respect. Likewise in “The Road Not Taken,” the
traveler is faced with two possible paths which he can take. He
observes one path before choosing the other, or as the traveler
states, “…long I stood / and looked down one as far as I could.”
He stood and weighed the option to travel down one path versus the
traveling down the other, once again demonstrating that when we are
faced with more than one choice we must deliberate on and think
carefully about the possibilities before choosing one or the other.

It
is a sign of character when a person stands for a belief or decision
even when it seems as if the choice will lead to a difficult road
ahead. Sammy ultimately stands for what he believed was a just
decision in quitting to protest the unfair treatment of the girls in
the store. The girls were just customers, after all, who were there
to make a purchase and nothing else. He could have very easily
changed his mind and chosen to remain at his clerk position when
Lengel told him, “Sammy, you don’t want to do this to your Mom
and Dad,” or, “You’ll feel this for the rest of your life”
(Updike 62), which may have encouraged a person of weak character to
remain or turn back on the initial choice, but Sammy stands by his
decision. The traveler in “The Road Not Taken” speaks of taking
“… the one less traveled by” (Frost), indicating that the path
he took was an unpopular one, but follows up by saying “And that
has made all the difference.” The traveler in the poem makes a
literal choice of one path versus the other and displays character by
choosing a path that was not as well-traveled as the other, at least
in his mind. Frost clearly intended for the traveler to be a
metaphor for the state of mind where a person must make a difficult
decision and in his poem he seems to advocate that making the choice
builds one’s character.

Maturity,
that is to say emotional and mental maturity, is merely the means by
which we gain experience and use that experience as a base for our
decision-making process. It is often a sign of maturity, then, when
a choice is not made randomly but with deliberate consideration.
Moreover, the choices made help us mature as well. Sammy’s choice
is a clear one: stand by his perhaps ill-conceived decision to quit
in protest of the unfair treatment towards the girls, or back out of
his choice and resume his work as a clerk at the register. At that
point in Updike’s “A & P” we have read Sammy’s rather
unpleasant view of working at the A & P, with the “witches”
(Updike 58), “house slaves” (Updike 59), and “sheep” (Updike
62) being regular players in his dreary existence in a small town
grocery store, and as such we as the readers can see that Sammy has
experienced working there and has learned it is not a pleasant job to
him. Additionally his background, told by him throughout the story,
indicates that he is still in the “maturing” phase of
adolescence. He lives with his parents, his mother does his laundry,
and he even says he is nearly nineteen years old. So, when Sammy
chooses to take a stand he is taking a vital step in his emotional
and mental maturity, adding to his mental cache of experience. The
traveler in Frost’s poem speaks of age and maturity when he says,
“I shall be telling this with a sigh / Somewhere ages and ages
hence.” (Frost). He knows that, as he grows older, he will look
back on the moment of his choice and be the wiser for having made the
choice. Both authors, through the characters in their respective
works, show that making such difficult choices is an important part
of maturing, despite the consequences that may come about as a
result.

It
is then vital to remember that each choice (that is, a scenario where
a person must decide between more than one option), comes with one or
more consequences. The direst aspect of making a choice, then, is
the consequence of said choice. There are some choices, such as,
say, which movies to watch, which have no particular consequence
other than a bad and quickly forgotten film experience. It is not
such choices and consequences that I speak of. I refer to those same
important choices that encourage careful thought, demonstrate
character, and that we use to build upon our maturity. These choices
are the ones that get us to think about the consequences. Take, for
example, when Sammy reflects on his decision to quit his job at the
grocery store: “… my stomach kind of fell as I felt how hard the
world was going to be to me hereafter.” (Updike 62). He says this
after stepping out of the store, and at that moment he realizes that
the choice he made would have serious consequences, and perhaps leads
to a difficult path in life. The traveler in Frost’s poem, on the
other hand, is very considerate of the possible consequences of his
choice as he ponders which path to take. He stands for a long while,
peers down both paths, and even takes in minute details such as the
amount of wear on each path. This traveler carefully considers his
path, and therefore the consequences of taking one path over the
other, before making his choice, even if in reflection he realizes
that both paths were, “about the same” (Frost).

So
while some choices have immediate consequences or are more beneficial
than other possible choices, others have consequences and benefits
not foreseen. There is no consistency to the act of making these
choices as, like life, it is impossible to foresee what we will have
to face. We must simply stand before the manager, or the paths, or
even the sign displaying the movies showing tonight, and make the
choice–come what may.

Works Cited

Frost, Robert. “The Road Not Taken.”
Living Literature: An Introduction to
Fiction, Poetry, and Drama. Ed.
John C. Brereton. New York: Longman, 2007. 1062.

Updike, John. “A & P.” Living
Literature: An Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, and Drama.
Ed. John C. Brereton. New York: Longman, 2007. 58-62.

Heart of Darkness

“Beware of shadows…”

There is a darkness that dwells in the imagination. It is the sense of foreboding; a fear of the unknown world behind every wall and around every corner. A place in the mind that cannot be illuminated. As we age we learn to quell these fears, ignoring the fantastic and unimaginable horrors that the imagination flings upon us. The pit of darkness is buried, hidden away, repressed and depressed down to the farthest recesses of the mind. But such was not always the case. The young at heart, you see, face the black void and do not simply rationalize it away. There is a need to face the darkness and overcome it, for where there is a darkness there is always a brightness to provide the universal balance. The child faces the darkness of his or her imagination and feeds into it. It is the imagined peril of an innocent mind.

Eric Chahi and the team at Amazing Studio, creators of the renowned science fiction hit Another World (developed under the Delphine Software label), kept the same dark artistic design and eerie landscape from that game but strayed from the role of the adult adventurer in order to provide a visually stunning experience in the dark corners of a child’s imagination. They created a world in which we are driven to face the…

Heart of Darkness
Developed by Amazing Studio
Published by Interplay Productions in North America, Infogrames and Ocean Software in Europe
Released in 1998 for the PC and PlayStation platforms
Rated E for Everyone

Heart of Darkness tells the tale of Andy, a good-natured if slightly mischievous kid who dreams of lying on the grass and watching the clouds along with his spotted dog, Whiskey. It begins, as these stories tend to begin, with every fictional child’s most dreaded nightmare: elementary school. The teacher’s lecture foreshadows the events about to unfold for Andy and his poor innocent pooch: “Many believe that these black holes are, in reality, doors which open to parallel worlds. Unknown, fascinating… perhaps even terrifying!” The teacher, a man of ill temperament and even more unpleasant appearance, forces Andy into a cupboard as punishment for sleeping during class, and provides the premise for the adventure ahead in Andy’s apparent fear of the dark. Andy is (literally) saved by the bell and escapes to spend quality lounging time in the great outdoors. As Andy and Whiskey lie out on the grass a solar eclipse occurs (darkness), during which Whiskey is dognapped by a mysterious shadow (more darkness). This sets Andy on a path to his tree house where a yellow flying machine of his own design transports him to a desolate world inhabited by minions of one who is called the Dark Master, as well as other creatures that are both friendly and unfriendly. Thus the side-scrolling platform adventure begins.

True, the plot is simple, but like all things it is simple when one merely looks at the surface. Beneath the veneer there is a tale of a child facing the darkest recesses of his imagination, and to discover the truth behind the disappearance of Andy’s dog is to discover a story stemming from the oldest tales of the child lost in the woods, facing darkness that no man or woman would wish upon a child. We see the story through Andy’s eyes, and his bravery in the face of great danger is perhaps foolish but nonetheless inspirational. While on his quest Andy meets many foes, as well as friends in the form of the pudgy Amigos, a race of beings with pink flesh, wings, and big googly eyes atop their triangular heads. They serve as the suppressed minority in the story, attacked by minions of the Dark Master and helping Andy to fight him in the latter portions of the game. Andy ultimately faces the darkness alone and perseveres, of course, but like any good story the journey makes or breaks the tale.

So, the player is tasked with guiding Andy through the perilous Dark Kingdom where shadow creatures dwell in canyons, caverns, jungles, and even across the sky and beneath the sea. Andy is limited to the standard platforming set: walking, running, jumping, climbing, and occasionally swimming, and while there are some environmental action elements to engage the player’s reflexes they are few and far between. Instead, the gameplay design relies heavily on solving puzzles to clear obstacles from the path or to create a new path that will permit further progression. An example of such a puzzle is a rock formation early in the first level when the player uses Andy’s plasma cannon to shoot the rocks and bring down the wall blocking the path, albeit simultaneously ripping a hole in the cliff that allows several shadow creatures to emerge. There we arrive at the bulk of the action in the game: fighting off hordes of encroaching shadow creatures with nothing but a plasma cannon or mysterious powers from a hidden meteor. The plasma cannon is used through a portion of the first level as the player is introduced to the combat system. Eventually, however, the plasma cannon is lost (for a time) and Andy is left defenseless until obtaining what the game manual coins as the “normal” and “special” powers. These powers allow the player to kill enemies as well as manipulate mobile plant seeds to create ladders and reach previously inaccessible areas in a level. All of this weaponry is required, along with keen use of the intuitive if somewhat rigid control system, to traverse the dangerous Dark Kingdom and reach the Dark Master’s lair.

Topmost among the game’s many achievements is the art design. Although the pre-rendered 3D backgrounds and hand drawn environments were considered outdated by the time the game released in 1998 (in the midst of the real-time 3D boom), that does not change that the game’s environments are simply stunning. It is one thing when a game can present candy for the eye as the player traipses through the environments; it is another matter when the game presents a rich, enticing world that seemingly asks the player, “stop, won’t you, if only for a moment?” Stop and enjoy the scenery; smell the overgrown roses in the steamy jungles; allow the glow of phosphorescent fungi to cast eerie shadows across cave walls; stand and look out over a vast landscape beyond the edge of a cliff beyond the edge of a lush and dark jungle, beyond the skyscape of the horizon of gray clouds. And, eventually, stare down the darkness of an evil lair where light from above casts faint traces of itself across piles of long-dead creatures and twisted formations of stone. As I said, stunning.

Having said that, when I say that the game’s background and level art are not the most impressive aspect of the art design then you may grasp what it means when I say that it is in fact the animation that is the visual highlight of the game. It is that which that took hold of my sight from the moment I first loaded that disc, so many years ago. Chahi and co.’s dedication to richly detailed animation was apparent in their previous work on Another World and in Heart of Darkness they not only met those same standards but far surpassed them. They created that stunning world and then filled it with such brilliant movement in the characters and ambient level details that one can see part of the reason why the game took over four years to develop. It begins with Andy, our guide through this fluid world. His movement as he walks along is greatly detailed. He walks, jumps, ducks, runs, swims, crawls, hangs, and climbs; his clothes sway and ripple with every movement, his hat flys off and is quickly caught as he floats through the air after a jump or runs away from strange black creatures. But we’ve seen good character animation before and since, so why, then, is the animation so important? In this case it’s a case of quality and quantity, or variety to be exact. There are many types of movement in the game, and as morbid as it may seem the most varied type of movement is death. This poor kid dies in more ways than I’ve seen any other video game.Falling from a variety of high places into bottomless pits, drowning, burning alive, crushed by rocks, bones, suffering a broken neck, and being eaten by anything with a mouth are just some examples of the many ways you can allow Andy to perish. On the flip side, Andy can dish out the deaths just as well as he can take them. With the aid of his plasma cannon, meteor powers, or even sunlight, Andy can cause enemies to burst into brilliant puffs of charred, glowing smoke, ranging from orange to green to blue, and all animated in such a way that you feel the heat and sizzle of their rapidly evaporating corpses. It could be said that these are all beautiful deaths. The ambient animation of swaying grass, falling rocks from the decaying stone beneath Andy’s feet, and smaller creatures such as butterflies and lizards all serve as further examples of the shear beauty of all that surrounds Andy.

The in-game action is complemented by the occasional cinematic featuring notably dated 3D animation. The cinematics are, however, well-directed and they serve to provide dialogue and scenes that further the story along. The only folly in the game’s visuals is that there can be noticeable drops in the framerate when there happens to be too much of the aforementioned animation on screen at one time, and the framerate for the cinematics is also noticeably lackluster. Additionally, players who try both versions of the game will notice that some of the cinematics in the PC version are missing from the PlayStation version, but these are only action scenes placed in during transitions from one area to the next. The key story scenes all remain.

As any film director or game designer can tell you, sound plays a significant part in the experience that the observer or end user draws from a work. Heart of Darkness makes excellent use of sound effects for all animation in the game, from something as common as Andy’s footsteps to a screech hinting at a creature that has not yet appeared. All creatures in the game emanate eerily realistic noises as they either rush Andy or lie in wait to feed on him, and the sounds of creatures or environmental ambience serve as more than background noise, often providing clues or warnings. The game’s soundtrack – composed, conducted, and produced by Emmy award-winning TV and film composer Bruce Broughton – was the first game soundtrack to be recorded by a live orchestra. The subtleties of what appears on-screen are enhanced by the swell and fall of a rousing score, and the more dramatic moments in the game’s cutscenes are all the more effective after the music kicks in to amplify the emotional impact.

In the end… well, I won’t be talking about the end as that it something the player must experience, but I will say that in the end the game is a shining example of the possibilities of the side-scrolling platformer genre that was introduced over a decade before the game released (with bits of adventure and puzzle that appeared in more financially successful games such as Oddworld: Abe’s Oddysee). In the unfortunate end of Amazing Studio we received a game that ends much too quickly but will forever be remembered as an entertaining and fun experience. In the end, this is a story about a boy, his dog, and the limitless possibilities of the imagination to frighten and at the same time challenge us to face that which we fear, to face the darkness and overcome it.

Sources:
Game manual for the PlayStation version of Heart of Darkness

http://www.mobygames.com/game/playstation/heart-of-darkness

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heart_of_Darkness_%28game%29

http://www.gamefaqs.com

Recommended Playing:
American McGee’s Alice
Ico
Psychonauts

Thanks to:
panamaus and Time Bandits
Space Cat and Shadow of the Colossus
Timeshredder and El Laberinto del Fauno
kovidomi and http://www.youtube.com

On Loving a Father, “Those Winter Sundays”

Love
can be an emotion that is not expressed or recognized easily. There
are many “types” of love, and the comprehension of the word
“love” itself is quite subjective to an individual’s experience
or understanding, but there is perhaps no version of love quite as
unrivaled in it’s complexity than that version which we see in
“Those Winter Sundays” by Robert Hayden – the love between
father and child. Hayden expresses an adult’s lament for not
recognizing the love of a father when the adult was still a child,
and in his childhood recollection the adult conveys the love that the
father did not explicitly state.

In
the poem the adult tells of a routine that begins with the father
waking up early on Sunday mornings, as he does every morning (“Sunday
too my father got up early”) (Hayden 1), when the “blueblack
cold” (Hayden 2) of the time before dawn is still present in the
house and the adult, then a child, is still asleep. We learn that
the father works a laborious job during the week, coming home with “…
cracked hands that ached / from labor in the weekday weather…”
(Hayden 3-4), and while many people would certainly be content to
alleviate the physical weariness during the weekend, this man chooses
to get out of bed even on the days when he is not at work.

So,
why do it? Why suffer, as it were, and give up the opportunity to
rest? In the fourth and fifth lines of that first stanza we are
given a simple explanation for the father braving the cold and his
physical exhaustion: to make “banked fires blaze…” (Hayden 5).
The fire in the fireplace or stove (the means is not specified) must
be tended in order to bring warmth to the household and his child.
The father’s warming the house is seemingly nothing extraordinary,
and some could argue that he does it out of a sense of fatherly duty
rather than a loving affection for the child. But is fatherly duty
not simply an expression of the love for a father’s children? The
final sentence in the stanza, “… No one ever thanked him”
(Hayden 5), demonstrates that the adult considered it an important
act that went beyond mere duty – while it is not explicitly stated,
bringing warmth his child is viewed as an act of love. There is
another such moment of realization on the adult’s part when he
speaks of the father polishing his “…good shoes as well”
(Hayden 12) in the third line of the final stanza. It is another
seemingly simple part of the routine, and one that most certainly
could have been required of the child, but the father chooses once
again to do it for reasons that the child was unaware of – love.

There
is a more subtle aspect to the routine that is not as delineated when
compared to what is plainly stated in the poem. The title itself,
“Those Winter Sundays,” is perhaps the biggest hint, but as we
read into the poem there are many supporting terms and lines that
give credence the idea that this father is preparing his child for an
important weekly event: church on Sundays. In the second and third
lines of the second stanza we read, “When the rooms were warm, he’d
call, / and slowly I would rise and dress…” What reason could
there be for waking up early on a Sunday morning? Again, we are not
explicitly told, but the evidence for this is then strengthened when
one considers that the father polished his good shoes. We are faced
with a child being woken up on a Sunday morning, called by his father
to specifically rise and get dressed, then presented with a freshly
polished pair of good shoes. It certainly does sound like
preparation for Sunday church. As is written in the Bible, “Keep
the sabbath day to sanctify it…” (King James Version Deut. 5:12).
This father could very well be preparing his child to attend church,
a tradition that many people around the world believe improves morals
and character, among other positive qualities. A loving father,
then, would take his child to Sunday church because he cares for the
child and wants to help improve the child’s life.

As
mentioned, when the temperature reached comfortable levels the father
would call to the child to wake up and get dressed. Hayden’s
persona of the regretful adult conveys waking up to the sound of the
wood in the fire crackling, or as the adult recalls the sound of
“cold splintering, breaking” (Hayden 6), certainly a sharp
contrast to the warmth of a fire. The vivid description shows how he
perceived the sounds of his father’s early morning labors as a
child. Following the call the child would rise and get dressed,
slowly and without any particular urgency as the child had a fear of
the “chronic angers of that house” (Hayden 9). We are never told
what these “angers” could be, but as the only other prominent
character in the poem is the father we can infer that the father
instilled a type of fear in the child. It is common for children to
fear their father, who is often seen as the stern figure that asserts
authority over his children. As the French philosopher Joseph
Joubert wrote in his notebooks, “Love and fear. Everything the
father of a family says must inspire one or the other” (“Joseph
Joubert”), and in this case it appears the father inspired fear.
The father may be performing his fatherly duty by taking care of his
child, but the child is unable to interpret the father’s actions as
symbols of his love, and resorts to “Speaking indifferently to
him…” (Hayden 10). Thus, the father’s love goes unrecognized.

It
is not until the final stanza of the poem, in the final two lines,
that the adult expresses his feelings about not recognizing the
father’s love until adulthood: “What did I know, what did I know
/ of love’s austere and lonely offices?” (Hayden 13-14). The
adult’s regret is laid out before us when he asks himself what he
knew, for he was only a child and could not know that all that the
father did for the child was done out of love. He comes to
understand that love is not as easy to obtain when one is in a high
“office,” or place of authority. As the authority figure the
father helped his child as best he could, loving him all the while,
but never able to express the love in a manner that the child could
recognize.

Works Cited

The Criswell Study Bible: King James Version.
Ed. W. A. Criswell. Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1979.

Hayden, Robert. “Those Winter Sundays.”
Living Literature: An Introduction to
Fiction, Poetry, and Drama. Ed.
John C. Brereton. New York: Longman, 2007. 1083.

“Joseph Joubert.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. 13
Feb 2008, 23:21 UTC. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc. 24 Mar 2008.
<http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Joseph_Joubert&oldid=191285803>.

The Palatski Man: Harbinger of Adulthood

“The
Palatski Man” by Stuart Dybek presents the loss of innocence as a
catalyst for the maturation into adulthood. While the phrase “loss
of innocence” may carry with it a negative connotation, it is in a
broader sense the newfound understanding of concepts and realities
that all children must face when on the cusp of adulthood. Dybek
portrays these concepts and realities through the eyes of a 12
year-old girl, in a story rife with religious symbolism.

Innocence,
by definition, is a “lack of knowledge; ignorance”
(“Merriam-Webster”). It is through Mary’s eyes that we witness
that lack of understanding and knowledge that generally only exists
in the mind of a child. The first such moment of innocence appears
in the story as Mary describes receiving the Eucharist from Father
Mike during Sunday mass. The narrator describes how the Father’s
hand would on occasion brush against her lower lip, causing her to
feel a spark. A Sister has to inform Mary that what she felt was not
the Holy Spirit, but merely static electricity. Generally, only a
child would consider such a notion and believe it. As Mary returns
to her pew the narrator whimsically describes her thoughts as she
holds the host in her mouth – a “warm, wheaty snowflake” that she
“swallows into her soul” (Dybek 72). Further into the story the
narrator states that Mary “couldn’t bear it if [John] thought she
was a dumb girl” (Dybek 74) in reference to her decision not to
snitch on John’s neighborhood pranks. The narrator relays these
thoughts in such a way that we cannot help but assume that they
represent how Mary thinks. They are innocent thoughts, lacking the
deeper understanding that comes with maturity and experience.

It
is also in Mary’s actions that we see how the innocence of a child
can demonstrate a lack of knowledge or understanding. It is upon
Mary’s insistence that she and her brother John follow the Palatski
Man through parts unknown and to the wheat field that leads to the
Palatski Man’s shanty town. John remarks more than once that they
should return home, but it is Mary’s playful attitude and pleading
that keeps the pair going. It is not until they reach a scarecrow in
the field of wheat, covered in crows, that Mary considers turning
back. When John and Mary are caught and brought to the Palatski Man,
she accepts the red candy apple and palatski that are offered and
eats them both, finding that the palatski now tastes bitter, whereas
John refuses to bite into either treat. Later, John says “I tried
to stop you,” and “… it might have been poisoned” (Dybek 81).

While
we as the readers are able to discern Mary’s innocence as a child,
we must ask what purpose it serves. Why is all the information
important, and when does this loss of innocence occur? The moment of
loss, as one might imagine, is the culmination of the story. After
the experience in the Palatski Man’s shanty town, John and Mary
return home and are punished by their parents for arriving home late.
Mary lies in bed “feeling the sad, Sunday-night feeling when the
next Monday is morning and the weekend is dying” (Dybek 81), in
other words not only the end of a day but the end of a period of time
(the weekend). As she tries to remember her nightly prayer Mary is
interrupted by a vision of Gabriel’s wings. Gabriel, the messenger
of God referred to as St. Gabriel the Archangel in Catholicism, or
the angel of death, appears before individuals to make important
revelations of the future (“Gabriel”). Mary’s inability to
remember the prayer suggests that something has occurred to alter her
religious views, and the appearance of Gabriel supports that while
Mary still references the religious teachings of her childhood she
now feels that a change is coming. The revelation coming from an
“angel of death” signifies that something in Mary’s life is
going to die or come to an end.

When
she is unable to return to sleep Mary hears the wind blow and
approaches her window to look outside. As she gazes at the moon
behind the branches of a bare tree she sees a vision of the
all-important palatski. It is then that she hears the bell and looks
down to find the Palatski Man, silent as always, surrounded by a
swirl of leaves from an evening wind and offering Mary what else but
a palatski. Unlike her past tastes of the wafer and honey treat,
Mary has now tasted the bitter palatski offered to her at the
Palatski Man’s shanty town. The palatski ceases to represent
something good, as it did before when it brought the church and Holy
Spirit to mind, and becomes something to be wary of. We as the
readers see that Mary gained new knowledge or understanding based on
her experience and going forward will not tread as lightly. She
retreats to the mirror in her room (the same mirror in which she
attempted to understand motherhood earlier in the story) and looks at
herself, only this time she no longer sees herself as she did before.
Mary’s physical form changes before her very eyes as a result of
puberty, the physical manifestation of adulthood and maturity. The
sudden physical growth in front of the mirror is perhaps meant to be
more surreal than realistic in its approach, but it nevertheless
serves as a vivid portrayal of Mary’s cathartic moment of
understandings.

When
Mary hears the wind stop and the bell ring once again she accepts the
changes that will occur. She has a new understanding of what she is
meant to be, an adult, and at that moment we as the readers
experience the loss of her innocence along with her. We have
experienced childhood through the eyes of a child, and it is at the
conclusion of the story that the child ceases to be. It is then when
innocence is lost and newfound knowledge and understanding are
gained.

Works Cited

Dybek, Stuart. “The Palatski Man.” Living
Literature: An Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, and Drama.
Ed. John C. Brereton. New York: Longman, 2007. 71-81.

“Gabriel.” Wikipedia: The Free
Encyclopedia. 24 Feb 2008. Wikimedia
Foundation, Inc. 25 February 2008.
<http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Gabriel&oldid=193668849>.

“Innocence.” Merriam-Webster
Online Dictionary. 2007-2008.
Merriam-Webster, Incorporated. 25 February 2008. <http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/innocence>.

coincidences

Coincidences are a bitch, aren’t they? We’re so certain, adamant that the world is driven by choice and not some unseen force that causes convenient coincidence. But, things happen, and it seems like choice is sometimes an illusion. We’re meant to be and see that which we don’t expect, and may not even want. And if it were the roses-and-sugar coincidences then it wouldn’t be so bad, but it’s always ironic coincidences.

The universe has a fucked up sense of humor sometimes.

So much gaming… so many games.

These days I question my devotion to this industry, or at least devotion to the roles I’ve chosen to play. QA lost it’s charm long, long ago, and a return to marketing would be a sad move indeed. “Production, production!” is what they say… but I do not envy what men and women in production must do. Particularly when the project one is assigned to is not the ideal one (nearly every project at a publisher’s mass production level).

It would seem that my gaming has been adversely affected by this morosity towards the industry. I have many games sitting, begging to be played… but I look at them and think “why bother”. I finish one, and there’s another one right below it in the stack. The Halo and GTA releases of the world no longer excite me, and when a game’s impending arrival does have me drooling I quickly realize that it’s yet another game in a long line of similar games. Just another notch on the bed post.

Perhaps my time here is nearly at an end. I’m no programmer. I’m no artist. My “original” game concepts are trite and cliche.