I enjoy fake companies. I do want to make Delta Tees an LLC for legal reasons (we're totally going to get sued, or at very least asked to cease and desist), but legal jargon aside, I also would like to make a faux parent company with a dubious name. Something like "Ethical Business Practices" or "Venturetek Synergies Conglomerate". For whatever reason, corporate and PR double-speak has a soft spot in my otherwise hard heart, and I enjoy emulating (read: ridiculing) it when the chance arises. The Scheinhardt Wig Company of 30 Rock lore comes to mind as a prime example of this, with such a noble slogan as "Not poisoning rivers since 1997".
In that same vein, I enjoy spit balling and having brainstorming sessions to come up with new tee ideas that I personally can't Photoshop. Writing things on white boards makes it feel somehow more official, and don't even get me started with Post-It notes. Whenever I dress up, I feel more capable of accomplishing things; case in point: today, I had a presentation at a Research Conference on my studies over the past year in my research laboratory. To this end, I was dressed in fancy-pants'ed attire, but I saw a noticeable difference in the respect and general inclinations towards me of strangers. People somehow assumed I must be important since I put in all the effort of tying a tie at the crack of noon for this event, and as a result cleared a path for me to stride industriously about and not actually have much to do. Like Lenny from the Simpsons once said: "I'm making great time! If only I had somewhere to be..." That was pretty much how I felt today, wandering aimless-but-importantly around. The moral of this incessant ramble is that if you want to get something done, dress up, walk around a public place, and then channel that feeling of worth into doing something else.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Dear Japan
Stop.
Please stop making traditional cookie cutter J-RPGs. Let Square Enix do their thing with Final Fantasy (for now at least, they too are on a probationary period where they need to prove they can have an original thought that isn't "Girl-Cloud"), but otherwise, just stop. When given the option between last year's western RPGs: Mass Effect, Fallout 3, and Fable 2; and Japan's sad offerings: Lost Odyssey, Inifinite Undiscovery and The Last Remnant, the choice isn't difficult to make.
First of all, like I'm sure many others have pointed out before me, what the fuck is up with the titles? Infinite Undiscovery? Lost Odyssey? What is "undiscovery"? And furthermore, how can it happen an inifinite number of times? My guess is that there is a complex algorithm generated by Japan's ever advancing robots that somehow combines likely names of luxury sedans with an arbitrary temporal or spacial measurement.
Twins. Jesus H. Christ if I have to play one more RPG with adorably matching twins (identical or fraternal) I might give myself Three Red Lights by swallowing poison. In fact, I don't care if they aren't matching, I don't want to play as prepubescent sorceror/healer combinations, because we all know these kids couldn't possible swing a sword or tank some hits for the rest of the party. If I were to do it all over again, I'd consider studying the history of Japan so I could write my thesis on how hundreds of years of spirit worship, isolation and xenophobia lead to an enduring and questionable love of small children wearing bright outfits. Furthermore, these children are trekking around foreign countries with usually unrelated adults who kill people for a living. If only that second thought were as troubling as the first.
Gimmicks. Quick time events for EVERY SINGLE ATTACK (I'm looking at you Lost Odyssey). Ill-conceived vehicle sections (What the hell is a Gummi Ship anyway?). Forcing you to play as the C-list characters just because someone bothered to design them. MINI GAMES. Anyone who's been in a ten foot radius of a JRPG has likely seen at least one excruciating, gameplay-lengthening gimmick ham handedly included in the retail copy of the game. Even Fable II falls victim to this, although to be quite honest the game is really more a collection of gimmicks than a well crafted RPG. Peter Molynieux's Cossack-dancing lovechild aside, why oh why must these unnecessary elements be included in games that would otherwise be fun? How does jumping rope, dodging lightning, playing basketball, killing bees, or skateboarding advance or even incorporate itself into the plot of a large scale, world-saving narrative? Imagine if in the Fellowship of the Ring, before Frodo could flee from Bree with the company to Rivendell, the inkeeper stopped him and asked kindly that he pour drinks for the next five nights before he could get the money to buy a horse to get back to the interesting part of the movie?
This is part 1 of an unending series on the monotony of Japanese role playing games.
Please stop making traditional cookie cutter J-RPGs. Let Square Enix do their thing with Final Fantasy (for now at least, they too are on a probationary period where they need to prove they can have an original thought that isn't "Girl-Cloud"), but otherwise, just stop. When given the option between last year's western RPGs: Mass Effect, Fallout 3, and Fable 2; and Japan's sad offerings: Lost Odyssey, Inifinite Undiscovery and The Last Remnant, the choice isn't difficult to make.
First of all, like I'm sure many others have pointed out before me, what the fuck is up with the titles? Infinite Undiscovery? Lost Odyssey? What is "undiscovery"? And furthermore, how can it happen an inifinite number of times? My guess is that there is a complex algorithm generated by Japan's ever advancing robots that somehow combines likely names of luxury sedans with an arbitrary temporal or spacial measurement.
Twins. Jesus H. Christ if I have to play one more RPG with adorably matching twins (identical or fraternal) I might give myself Three Red Lights by swallowing poison. In fact, I don't care if they aren't matching, I don't want to play as prepubescent sorceror/healer combinations, because we all know these kids couldn't possible swing a sword or tank some hits for the rest of the party. If I were to do it all over again, I'd consider studying the history of Japan so I could write my thesis on how hundreds of years of spirit worship, isolation and xenophobia lead to an enduring and questionable love of small children wearing bright outfits. Furthermore, these children are trekking around foreign countries with usually unrelated adults who kill people for a living. If only that second thought were as troubling as the first.
Gimmicks. Quick time events for EVERY SINGLE ATTACK (I'm looking at you Lost Odyssey). Ill-conceived vehicle sections (What the hell is a Gummi Ship anyway?). Forcing you to play as the C-list characters just because someone bothered to design them. MINI GAMES. Anyone who's been in a ten foot radius of a JRPG has likely seen at least one excruciating, gameplay-lengthening gimmick ham handedly included in the retail copy of the game. Even Fable II falls victim to this, although to be quite honest the game is really more a collection of gimmicks than a well crafted RPG. Peter Molynieux's Cossack-dancing lovechild aside, why oh why must these unnecessary elements be included in games that would otherwise be fun? How does jumping rope, dodging lightning, playing basketball, killing bees, or skateboarding advance or even incorporate itself into the plot of a large scale, world-saving narrative? Imagine if in the Fellowship of the Ring, before Frodo could flee from Bree with the company to Rivendell, the inkeeper stopped him and asked kindly that he pour drinks for the next five nights before he could get the money to buy a horse to get back to the interesting part of the movie?
This is part 1 of an unending series on the monotony of Japanese role playing games.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
First Post
Look for forthcoming tee shirt designs, reviews of video games and television shows, and any other political or metaphysical musings by the Delta Tees staff.
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