So, You Want to Write a Novel?

Earlier this year, I announced in a blog post that I’d started a novel writing course. It was through The University of Michigan, affiliated with Coursera, and was to be a 26-week, mostly self-guided class. While I’ve had ambitions to write and eventually put out a novel as far back as childhood, I never had the motivation prior. But now, with a course on tap and lots of free time on my hands, I figured I’d make good on that. So how was it?

It was good…with some reservations.

I’ll start with the positives. For one, the course was pretty straightforward. It was divided up into 26 weeks, which were then sub-divided into a lecture and an assignment. The lectures consisted of 1-5 minute videos where my professor, a screenwriter named David Wheeler, would discuss the intricacies of writing, explain my assignment and give clear instructions about the lesson at hand. He also had a really lulling voice, perfect for anyone willing to cure their insomnia.

Following each lecture, as I said earlier, was an assignment with a template: write the assignment, usually a chapter, post it and review 5 of your peers’ works in order to move on. This was mandatory for completing the course, which was a pass/fail with no in-between. It was the meat and potatoes, but it gave me a chance to track my classmates and see what they were up to. It was frustrating waiting for them to catch up at times, but the end result was often really rewarding.

I think this made the class that much more exciting. Because the 20 chapters had to be posted separately, it made the writing feel episodic. Want to know if the character in a suspense thriller survived? Find out next time. Wondering if she made out with him before their wedding? Again, find out next time. Curious what happens next? You get the picture.

This, when coupled with a forum for individual concerns, was brilliant. Giving feedback in general is hard, doubly-so without an incentive. Far too often people weasel out of giving feedback if they don’t want to. So having a course that required it as part of its mandate, though sometimes stressful, was a nice way to incorporate that. It made getting feedback from classmates addicting.

But it also kept me much more invested. The prof generally preferred a “500 words a day” regiment, so as to keep from losing pace. But I constantly bucked that, opting for a full, 2500 word count in one sitting. It allowed me to complete a single chapter in 2-4 hours, unintentionally depriving me of a bathroom break, dinner, or, worst-case scenario, sleep. It also allowed for many typos and grammatical errors, which wasn’t helped by not being able to fix them when I posted my assignments. Oops!

If I have one critique of this course, it’s the Table Reads. Every 7 chapters, or every individual act break, I was required to gather some friends and have them read the individual parts in a group setting. I hated these assignments, despite there only being three of them in total. Not only was finding people tedious, but arranging times to read the book aloud was even more so. It didn’t help when one or two people were in another time zone, as I’d have to arrange around their schedules. I still pulled it off, but couldn’t my classmates have sufficed for this?

I ended up dividing the sessions into two, one-hour blocks of time and recording the voices to listen to later on. This, obviously, required written consents from all parties, which was also tedious to coordinate, but they allowed for feedback loops to listen to should I need them. They also required me to upgrade my Zoom account, which costed me extra, but it was worth it.

Following the Table Reads, and this was of my own volition, I enlisted my grandfather, a man with no real interest in science-fiction, to help me edit my writing and make it flow better. Initially, my book was slightly over 50000 words, in keeping with the course’s requirements. However, not everything I wrote meshed together, so the book shrank by close to 1000 words. I know that technically broke the 50000-word rule, but I think it flows better now. I only wish some of my best jokes had survived the edit, even though my grandfather ended up liking my work.

Once that was done, I encountered another problem: the completed manuscript wouldn’t upload. It turned out I wasn’t alone on that, so I linked a Google Doc instead and apologized to my class for that. It wasn’t technically breaking the rules, I was still sharing the completed product, but it felt like a cop-out. Still, at least it got done.

Would I recommend this course? I suppose. Much like the “Should I got to film school?” question that gets floated around, it depends on what you want from writing. If you feel like it’s worth flexing your creative muscles, then I guess it’s worth a shot. Besides, my prof gave me a copyright symbol for no extra cost, and you’re not wasting money on an expensive degree that won’t get you your dream career. 

I only wish those Table Read weren’t so annoying. But hey, what can you do? The course was free, so I can’t complain about that! (Also, it’s the only course I’ve taken where I’ve received a 100% final grade, so…)

"It's a Small Film After All..."

This week has blessed me with two ideas for The Whitly-Verse. The first ties into Mulan, as it was revealed that Disney would stop releasing physical media of their movies. While this frustrates me, I won’t discuss it today. Instead, I’d like to focus on something different. Let’s talk about the most-recent video from YouTuber The Royal Ocean Film Society.

I’ve been a fan of this channel for some time. Ever since the video on the late-Isao Takahata, I’ve appreciated its slick, clean and well-polished/delivered style. The channel reminds me of Tony Zhou’s Every Frame a Painting series, except if it hadn’t disappeared after a controversial video on MCU music. I’d recommend giving the channel a look if you haven’t already. Seriously, you won’t regret it.

Anyway, the creator of the channel recently posted a video on Christopher Nolan and his decent into the same pit David Lean was in at the end of his career. He argued that Nolan’s desire to be bigger and grander with each new film hurts his writing, and that he wishes he’d go back to the smaller, more intimate style of The Prestige. It’s an interesting sentiment, but I think that “smaller = better”, while nice in theory, isn’t necessarily true. And nowhere can that be seen then with another filmmaker: Hayao Miyazaki.

I love Hayao Miyazaki’s work. His views aside, the man’s made 11 films to-date, and all of them, even his lesser ones, are classics. He’s been compared to Walt Disney and Steven Spielberg routinely, and with good cause: he captures the youthful exuberance both were famous for in their heydays, and all while appealing to adults. Still, while I love Miyazaki’s films, his filmography stands as a counterargument to The Royal Ocean Film Society. More specifically, it’s a counterargument because of Howl’s Moving Castle and Ponyo. 

Howl’s Moving Castle, based on the books by Diana Wynne Jones, tells the tale of a modest and insecure hatter, named Sophie, who’s cursed by a witch to be an old woman after she meets a wizard named Howl. Desperate to break the curse, Sophie travels to find Howl’s mysterious castle. Once there, she discovers that it’s run by a fire demon named Calcifer. Calcifer agrees to help Sophie on the condition that she helps him in return, so she becomes a cleaning lady to get on Howl’s good side. Through a series of shenanigans, Sophie and Howl uncover a plan to prolong the war with a neighbouring kingdom, connect to Howl’s lost youth and fall in love.

I’ve made no secret my thoughts on this movie. Despite excellent sound design, dubbing, music by Joe Hisaishi and animation, the story’s all-over. It takes forever to get going, longer to be interesting and even longer to arrive at its point. At under two hours in length, it feels too long with not enough meaningful content. Instead, we’re greeted with shenanigans, aimless side-threads, some red herrings and a clumsy, anti-war message that Miyazaki’s stated was a commentary on The US invasion of Iraq. I still enjoy it, but my frustrations can be summed up by the late-Roger Ebert’s Rotten Tomatoes summary:

“A parade of weird characters comes onstage to do their turns, but the underlying plot grows murky and, amazingly for a Miyazaki film, we grow impatient at spectacle without meaning.”

(FYI, he gave the movie a 2.5/4 review.) 

It’s worth noting that the film received solid reviews. Especially from fans, who regularly cite it as one of their favourites from Miyazaki. But there’s no denying the grandness of the film hurts it. Howl’s Moving Castle’s a big story with big ideas on a big scale. It has lots to say about war, fate and love, yet juggles everything so haphazardly that it’s a chore to watch. This is Hayao Miyazaki’s big spectacle movie where the story falters. So why do I think its existence contradicts The Royal Ocean Film Society?

Because of Ponyo.

I was skeptical going into Ponyo. Whereas Howl’s Moving Castle was one of the first Miyazaki movies I’d watched, Ponyo was one of the last, and my frustrations with the former film made me nervous about the latter; after all, Ponyo was his most-recent film at the time. Surely Miyazaki had run out of steam, right? Nope!

Ponyo’s about a magical fish who escapes her underwater kingdom and gets trapped in a bottle. She winds up outside the house of a young boy named Sosuke, who develops a bond with her before she’s snatched away by her father, Fujimoto. However, said fish, now named Ponyo, decides she doesn’t want to be with Fujimoto, so she escapes and comes back to Sosuke as a human. Ultimately, Fujimoto’s forced to let his daughter go if it means restoring balance, which has been messed with because of Ponyo’s escape. 

Ponyo should fit the bill of “smaller = better”. It’s the smallest-scale film Miyazaki’s done since Porco Rosso, and I think it works for that reason. The story, while going slightly off-the-rails in the second-half, is easier to grasp, and its characters are really simple. Even its animation and music are bare-bones, going with a “children’s colouring book” aesthetic to compliment Joe Hisaishi’s operatic score. This, theoretically, should be a better-received film. Yet while its critical praise is higher than Howl’s Moving Castle, something I agree with, audience members were less-impressed. To quote one Super Reviewer on Rotten Tomatoes:

“What really annoys me is despite how crazy, unusual, and magical all of the events of the movie are, no one seems to even give a shit.”

This is among the many issues detractors lob at the film: it’s too childish. Its characters are apathetic. It’s too weird. Ponyo’s annoying. I don’t agree with any of these, but it goes to show that smaller =/= better with filmmaking.

I’d be remiss if I called Howl’s Moving Castle “bad”. It’s not. It’s not even my least-favourite Miyazaki movie; that honour belongs to Porco Rosso. But the disconnect with Howl’s Moving Castle and Ponyo should demonstrate that The Royal Ocean Film Society’s thesis has a gaping hole in it. Or maybe I’m being overly-critical? 

Either way, it’s an excellent video from an excellent channel. It’s too bad the video discussed Christopher Nolan, though, especially given the news about Tenet!

Battle of the Paper Marios

The Paper Mario franchise is one I hold quite dear. I can’t say that for many RPGs. Yet while the franchise is beloved to gamers, only the first two entries receive that love. That’s not without cause, as they’re the best ones, taking a simple concept and really running with it. And with the newest entry, Paper Mario: The Origami King, dividing fans yet again, I figured I’d compare them to see which one’s better.

By the way, minor spoilers. Fair warning.

Courtesy of ThomasPussyCat.

Courtesy of Japancommercials4U2.

(FYI, I know fans prefer one to the other, but I want to be fair.)

Story:

VS

The story in Paper Mario feels like that of a Mario platformer: Bowser has kidnapped Princess Peach. Mario fights him, only to be defeated by The Star Rod. Shortly afterward, it’s revealed that the 7 keepers of this Star Rod have been imprisoned by Bowser and are being held by his top goons. It’s up to Mario, along with his various companions, to defeat Bowser. Sounds simple enough!

Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door has a more elaborate story, however. The basic set-up of Mario rescuing Peach is there, but while stopping a 1000 year-old curse from ruining Rogueport by collecting the 7 Crystal Stars has way too many contrivances, including the anniversary of said curse being that day, plenty of world-building is also present. There’s a side-story involving Captain Cortez that weaves into the main story. Rogueport also has a side-plot involving Don Pianta and his daughter that has two pay-offs. Even Peach and Bowser have individual side-stories, with Peach’s story feeling more intimate than in Paper Mario. And while both games have fun party members with quirks, Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door’s party members are a lot more interesting.

So yes, Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door has the better story.

Winner: 

Controls and Gameplay:

VS

Both Paper Mario games have similar controls, mapped out to their console’s controllers, so I won’t delve too much into that outside of how the combat takes full-advantage of them. Conversely, the gameplay in their over-worlds is pretty similar: you traverse them and travel through different areas in a side-scrolling manner. The only differences come in the over-world power-ups and battle mechanics.

In Paper Mario, being more technologically restricted because it’s cartridge-based, Mario’s power-ups are really basic. You get the boots and hammer abilities early on, as well as some upgrades, but most of the puzzles are basic: break this. Hit this switch. Blow this up. It’s simple, but it gets the job done.

Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door expands on this. Everything I mentioned before is here, but you can also activate cursed chests that make you into a plane and a sailboat, amongst others. These “curses” are useful for unlocking over-world treasures, and you can’t complete the game without them. Even when Mario gets his hammer and boots upgrades, you’re still greeted to Toadette, who explains how to use them.

The battling systems are also really similar, but with slight differences. In Paper Mario, you fight enemies via a “live film projector”, complete with Mario’s attacks/items and your partner’s fighting techniques. You can also equip badges in the over-world to help in battle, which use FP, or Flower Points. Assuming your HP, or Health Points, don’t diminish entirely in a fight, you collect SP, or Star Points, when you win, 100 of which allows you to upgrade HP, FP, or BP (Badge Points). My only complaint, aside from partners having no defence, is that you can’t collect SP from places you’ve beaten, limiting level grinding.

Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door expands on combat by turning it into live theatre. This includes audience members, who you interact with at various points in battle. While I appreciate that party members now have HP, and that you can somewhat collect SP from beaten worlds, keeping your audience happy in battles can often be incredibly distracting. You not only have to eject dangerous audience members, you have to worry about the roulette feature working in your favour. It’s really tedious.

I don’t like some of Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door’s backtracking, either. Toward the end, in World 7, you’re forced to travel all around Rogueport to find someone via a wild goose chase. The wrestling matches in World 3, while fun, feel repetitive with the stipulations required to progress in ranks. Paper Mario might’ve had that tedious seed side-quest to access World 6, but it was mostly secondary irritation. The only hinderance with backtracking there came with World 4, and even then it was solvable without much repetition.

Speaking of nuisances, I despise the Bowser levels in Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door. They’re few, far-between and not hard, but they break the flow of gameplay and the side-scrolling is awful! I groaned whenever they showed up on replay, and I loved them as a teenager! It’s stuff like that that holds the game back ever-so-slightly, and this is despite having a better final boss and more post-game content. Paper Mario wins.

Winner: 

Aesthetic:

VS

Both Paper Mario games utilize a storybook appeal, hence “paper” in their titles. Both games also look really good by today’s standards. This is especially so with Paper Mario, being an N64 title. Considering that many late games in the console’s library look blocky now and have clipping issues, that the game’s art-style even helps detract from how low-resolution the sprite models are is impressive. I could easily mistake this game for an early-GameCube title!

Still, I have to give it to Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door. Why? Because as much as Paper Mario looks amazing, Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door looks better. Plus, the game looks grimy and broken-down visually, adding a lived-in quality. There are also plenty more areas filled with secrets, encouraging exploration. Paper Mario, while still looking really good, lacks that.

Winner: 

Sound:

VS

One area the two games appear evenly-matched in is their scores. Both boast incredible music, be it their battle tunes, over-world tunes, or boss fights. They also revamp jingles from Super Mario Bros., Super Mario Bros. 3 and Super Mario World, reminding the player why these jingles resonated to begin with. It’s a hard choice.

All-the-more reason why I’m impressed with Paper Mario’s OST. The N64 was already technically obsolete by the early-2000’s, thanks to the Dreamcast and the PS2. You’d think a 5th-Gen console had already given up most of its musical secrets, but this game still managed to milk a few more. For that reason alone, I’m inclined to lean in its favour.

That’s not to say Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door lacks good tunes. It doesn’t. I’m impressed with Rogueport’s over-world and sewer themes, both of which constitute most of the game. But while the OST’s great, it’s pretty standard for the GameCube. It’s simply not as impressive to hear what it has to offer compared to its predecessor.

Winner: 

Overall Appeal:

VS

This has been a tough comparison. Picking which game I like more is like picking which child of mine is more loved, weird as that sounds. I love both games, and that’s never changing. But I have to, so I’m going with Paper Mario. Why?

Because of its accessibility. Paper Mario, aside from the Pokémon franchise, remains the most-accessible RPG I’ve ever played. Its learning curve is simple, its premise is easy to pick-up-and-play, and its puzzles aren’t complicated. It’s one of the easiest RPGs to play as well, which is great because I struggle with RPGs more than any other genre (and I already struggle a lot with video games!) That I can replay it all these years later with minimal help from guides or tutorials is welcomed considering how I’m frequently chained to them.

That doesn’t mean Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door, save the final boss, is taxing. It’s not, and I could easily see myself coming back to it. But while it has more side and post-game content, I don’t think it’s as fun. The game, as I said before, has lots of backtracking and is hampered by the Bowser levels, and while it improves in many ways over its predecessor, it also doesn’t do enough new. It feels like a 2.0 of Paper Mario, except more-refined. Some of you might prefer that, but I don’t. I much prefer what Paper Mario brought to the table. Paper Mario, therefore, is the better game.

Winner:

Overall Winner:

And there you have it, another video game comparison! Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it, and I’ll see you all next time!

Disney's Moolah-n

I’ve made my Disney apologetics no secret: I like Disney. I like their movies. I like how cleverly-written they are. I like how they capture nostalgia. I’ve even liked some of their business decisions. However, fan or no fan, I’m not blind to their nonsense, especially lately.

See, I’m not a huge fan of Mulan. I like it, but it’s always felt like being a Disney film held it back. It could’ve been way better had it doubled-down on its themes of imperialism and sexism. But what we got was still good, despite having one of the biggest tonal whiplashes in movie history. (Don’t think I didn’t notice!)

So when I heard the movie was being remade in live-action, I was more on-board than most. True, the songs would be absent and the story tweaked, but if it meant getting a unique spin then so be it! Despite its lead actress’s tone-deaf remarks on the Hong Kong protests, I was interested in seeing what this remake could offer. The trailers certainly helped.

Unfortunately, COVID had different plans. Initially, Mulan was slated for a Spring 2020 release, alongside Black Widow. But the global lockdown and poor response to COVID from The US caused constant delays and a retooling of its release. Mulan, like Tenet, was doomed to never be released in theatres, instead going with a streaming option. That’s exactly what happened.

Obviously, in a move that both shocked everyone and surprised no one, the movie was announced for Disney+. And it was announced for a one-time premium of $30 US. This is on top of Disney+ already costing $70 US a year. The levels of chutzpah here can’t really be articulated, but I’ll try anyway!

Firstly, why charge a one-time premium? Movie theatres don’t even do that, and they’ve gotten away with lots of suspicious stuff! (How much do you think a bag of popcorn costs to manufacture?) They also don’t restrict how many times you’re allowed to see something. You simply go back and buy another ticket, and the theatres will graciously accept your money!

Secondly, since I get that Mulan couldn’t come to theatres, why charge extra on Disney+? The people who are interested probably are already sucked into your ecosystem, Disney. There’s no real reason to charge up the wazoo, especially when you didn’t do that for Hamilton! This is an opportunity to show that you’re better than movie theatres, and you’re bungling it!

Thirdly, even if you want to charge a little extra, unethical as it is, why $30? That’s the price of a DVD purchase. I know because you charged that consistently with Studio Ghibli’s catalogue. And little old me, not realizing streaming was the way of the future, kept buying them, so the price is etched in my mind. If you really want to be competitive, Disney, then maybe only up-charge ¼ of that?

And fourthly, what does this accomplish? Did you expect more excitement? We’re in the middle of a recession-soon-to-be-depression, many people can’t afford to both purchase up-charged entertainment and pay for living expenses. It might not seem it, but now’s a bad time to do something this outlandish. Especially since some people will still pirate your content.

I get it, you were screwed out of a theatre release. It sucks, it really does. But while releasing a highly-anticipated feature on Disney+ is a viable alternative, and might even be the best option, charging a one-time fee of $30 isn’t how you do it. It might actually deter some people! And I say that as someone who was interested.

It’s also worrying because it signals an abuse of power. Disney, with their shady acquisition and restructuring of 20th Century Fox, has already skirted anti-trust laws and made the moviegoing experience more difficult. Perhaps I’m being cynical, but this is the kind of dystopian price gouging you hear about in science-fiction, the kind you’d read in a Phillip K. Dick novel or watch on the big-screen. It’s sketchy nonsense you’d expect in fantasy, not reality. So why’s it happening in reality, and with Disney?

Perhaps I’m missing something, and Disney knows what I don’t. It’s not out of the question that they’ve anticipated the backlash. The up-charge, shady as it is, could end up working in their favour. All of this is possible, I’m simply a guy who happens to be a Disney fan.

But rest assured, it’s definitely questionable behaviour! I know that the die-hards will defend this anyway, as they did Disney’s purchase of Fox, stating that it’s “good for Disney fans because __”, but that doesn’t assuage my concerns. Because this could be the future of how entertainment functions if Disney’s decision pays off. In a world where streaming’s increasingly the norm, is price gouging what we should anticipate from now on? Is this the new trend?

Because if it is, I’ll stick with physical media for as long as possible. Change my mind.

(Update: it turns out Black Widow’s going for the same strategy. Make of that what you will.)

Reintroduction-Who I Am, 5 Years Later

By the time this goes up, I’ll be celebrating my 30th birthday. Truth be told, this isn’t where I thought I’d be at this point. If it were up to me from 10 years ago, I’d be married and have a child or two by now. I’d also have moved out of my parents’ house and made it big as a writer. While I’ve made inroads since then, me from 10 years ago would be disappointed. Then again, 20 year-old me was a bumbling, naïve fool.

This November marks the 5th anniversary of this Blog, which was started to scratch a non-anime itch that Infinite Rainy Day couldn’t. Ironically, this Blog has outlived Infinite Rainy Day by two years. And that’s despite that Blog having over a full year’s head-start.

Regardless, because 30 year-old me feels a need for introspection, I’ll do that:

Growing up the middle child of Jewish, middle-class family wasn’t always easy. Despite having loving brothers and happily-married parents, I was lagging behind my peers socially and academically. When I was 7 years-old, I was diagnosed with ADHD, my first of many. Using that as a weapon, I attacked a kid in the school bathroom and received my first detention. The lesson to not take out my anger on people only half-stuck with me, as I had emotional issues that’d be exacerbated over time.

In middle school, after having been transferred to a special education school, I was re-diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. Shortly after that, I was referred to a psychiatrist that I’d see regularly for 17 years. Despite my diagnosis explaining a lot, it didn’t help academically. I was regularly pulled out of class for one-on-one remediation, and I’d often spend my time in class either fighting with classmates or writing fan-fiction in my notebooks. This got me into plenty of trouble with my teachers, many of whom didn’t understand me.

The situation with my social life didn’t start improving until high school, when my peers began to be more accepting of me. I was also diagnosed with Tourette’s Syndrome around that time, leading to my first ever Facebook group project. With about 10000 members currently, it’s one of my biggest accomplishments. I also frequently get emails from people asking to join it.

With this acceptance came a challenge to my Jewish identity. Teenage-hood isn’t without challenges anyway, but I’d never considered my Judaism a part of it. Yet due to me being exposed to ideas I’d never been prior, that was to be expected. Even my teachers were unafraid to challenge conventions, expressing disappointment in the day school system for “never challenging students beyond an elementary level”. It was tough, but necessary.

My biggest wake-up call religiously, however, came in university. For one, my knowledge pool expanded, showing how sheltered I’d been. I’d never questioned my beliefs openly beforehand, having always taken them for granted, so this was new. My already-expanded Judaism became expanded even further, with a better understanding of how my history collided with other histories. It was a lot to take in.

And two, my demographic pool also expanded. Prior, I’d never considered something like transgender or gender expression. I never thought grammatical rules were flexible, or that I’d been writing essays incorrectly. Most-importantly, I hadn’t considered how complex my identity was, something made more-apparent by a late mental health diagnosis. All of this was integral to shaping my adulthood.

Perhaps the biggest shift came from my time spent online. My social media exposure dates back to 2009, when I was writing blogs on ScrewAttack, but my post-university life’s where it really took shape. 2014 was tough emotionally, for many reasons, but that’s when my social conscience took shape. I became aware of how sheltered I was, and how it was important to sympathize with causes outside the Jewish community. Some might call that “radicalization”, but I call it “expanding my horizons”.

In my initial mission statement for this Blog, I mentioned wanting to discuss a myriad of topics. I think I’ve succeeded; after all, where else would my most-popular piece and my second most-popular piece be on a show and a Jewish calendar period? It’s been a weird trip down the rabbit hole, but also incredibly-satisfying. I think that speaks for itself.

Which leads me to now. Where to go next? For starters, I’ve managed to pursue ambitions to write a novel because of the pandemic. That’s something I’d have sat on without it, so I’m grateful for that. (I’m also almost done.)

Outside of that, I feel more can be done. I recently had a Zoom meeting with my cousin to see where The Whitly-Verse can go from here. It was suggested to use Reddit to expand viewership, but I’m not sure that’s enough. Besides, I like where I am right now, a small-fry with a dedicated audience. I’m not super-popular, or making money, but it’s nice to work at my own pace. It’s comforting.

If I have anything to say to my younger self, it’s this: be patient. Recognize your blessings when they come to you. 30 might seem ancient, but it comes at you fast. Before you know it, you’re having stomach and back problems, and then you realize how little you actually know. It’s humbling.

It also teaches you to slow down. Society prioritizes making a name for yourself early, but that’s not healthy. Lots of successful people only became so after 30, so there’s hope. There’s a chance it could still happen.

That’s all I can say here. Happy birthday to me, and I hope you got something from this!

Paper Mario: The Origami King Review

I’m a fan of the Paper Mario franchise. I’ve been one for over a decade. I’ve had bits of dialogue and gameplay memorized for years. I routinely listen to the music. I replayed Super Paper Mario last month. I even wrote a piece on the franchise’s decline when I was working for Nintendo Enthusiast! The games mean a lot to me.

So I was confused by Paper Mario: The Origami King being announced two months before its release; after all, why not do it a year ago? It doesn’t spell confidence when you shove it out last-minute. Still, I remained optimistic. The game looked solid, so why shouldn’t I have been? Yeah, diehard fan backlash was unsettling, but diehard fans aren’t the be-all-end-all. What really matters is if a game’s solid.

Paper Mario: The Origami King starts with Mario and Luigi heading to Princess Peach’s castle for an origami festival. Once there, they realize something’s off. For one, Princess Peach not only looks weird, but she sounds weird. And two, The Mushroom Kingdom’s barren, with no Toads in sight. An origami creation named King Olly has taken over in an attempt to shape it to his liking. Now it’s up to Mario, together with Olly’s sister Olivia, to restore balance.

One of the downsides to the Paper Mario franchise over the years has been prioritizing experimentation over quality. It began with Super Paper Mario, slowly rotting with the succeeding two entries. Fortunately, this one fixes much of that by reverting to something that works. It borrows from Super Mario RPG: Legend of the Seven Stars with its over-world and battle mechanics, all while maintaining the simplicity in story of the original two Paper Mario entries. There’s some missed potential, more on that later, but it works.

I’m not kidding, either. Paper Mario: The Origami King, while tinkering with the franchise again, is the most straightforward and fun entry since Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door. It opts for a puzzle/grid battling system, in which you line up enemies for maximum damage, instead of a turn-based approach, but the additional strategy makes the fights more interactive and exciting. Doubly-so the boss fights, where you guide Mario to the enemy and think in 3-dimensions.

And the over-world? It’s standard fare, but with a twist. Mario traverses the different areas and interacts with NPCs, many of whom are pre-programmed with humour, tragedy, charm, or all three, but there’s the additional component of fixing the damage Olly’s done. Any destroyed areas can be patched with confetti, something you collect at various locations. And there are Toads hiding everywhere, giving additional incentive to explore everything.

The music and aesthetics are also lovely. This is the first entry for the Switch, a console that’s portable and stationary, and it takes advantage. Whether it’s the battle tunes, using the console’s motion controls for puzzle solving, or admiring how much attention to detail went into the game’s look, there’s no shortage of awe-inspired imagery. This is good, as it helps to compensate for the occasional parts that can be frustrating, like when grid puzzles don’t co-operate.

I have some minor gripes about the mechanics. I’m disappointed that conventional level grinding doesn’t exist. The first two Paper Mario entries had you collecting Star Points that could be cashed in for upgrades after you defeated enemies in battle. This had limitations, but it made battling more enticing. Paper Mario: The Origami King, however, has none of that. Instead, you’re forced to find heart containers scattered throughout the over-world. It’s not a bad trade-off, but it’s not “great”.

I also don’t like how your allies only do so much. Mario and Olivia encounter several of them throughout the game, but they’re not great fighters and you can’t always access to them. You also don’t get to control them in combat, robbing you of fighting possibilities. I honestly found them hit or miss: when they’re helpful, they’re incredibly helpful. But when they’re unhelpful, they’re practically useless.

Finally, I don’t like how most of the battle accessories have limitations. Mario can equip different boots and hammers to make fights easier, which they become with them at hand. Yet while I appreciate the strategy of learning when to use them, counting down until they break is frustrating. It’s a problem I have with modern Zelda games too, and I long for the Badges of earlier entries.

Did I mention the game is funny, though?

Overall, this is a great entry in a franchise that was previously on life-support. Is it the “best” Paper Mario game since the first two? No, and I wouldn’t rank it above Super Paper Mario. But it sits comfortably at fourth place. Not to mention, it’s a return to form that has you battle origami animals alongside artist tools as bosses. If that’s not enough creativity to sell the game, I’ll eat my paper crane!

One X-Cellent Scene: Sentinels Attack

Multi-collab projects seem to be a regular occurrence these days. First it was Lessons Animation Taught Us. Then it was One Marvelous Scene, discussing The MCU. Then it was Star Wars Defined. Now it’s One X-Cellent Scene, focusing on the X-Men movies. I’m still waiting for The Pixar-Perfect Moment, my idea, to take off…

The X-Men movies have had their ups-and-downs, both qualitatively and behind-the-scenes, but their ability to pull off ensembles pre-MCU made them an anomaly for most of the 2000’s. It’s easy to take it for granted now, given what we’ve seen in the last 12 years, but there was a time when multiple heroes would’ve been a risk. For that reason, it’s easy to call the X-Men movies trailblazers. And while the franchise has fizzled out in recent years, its biggest achievement comes from its 7th entry, X-Men: Days of Future Past.

2014 was a great year for films based on Marvel IPs. We got four in one Summer, and, save The Amazing Spider-Man 2, all of them were well-received. Yet while The MCU’s entries may have aged better, X-Men: Days of Future Past was the still most interesting and ambitious. It not only had to be a direct sequel to X-Men: First Class, it had to tie into the first three X-Men films, fix the mistakes of X-Men: The Last Stand, jump off of The Wolverine and set the stage for X-Men: Apocalypse. And all while adapting one of comics’ most-famous stories. That it pulled this off while also being satisfying is no easy feat, and its key moment is its climax.

X-Men: Days of Future Past takes place in the future, where mankind’s enslaved by shapeshifting sentinels and mutants are nearly extinct. The surviving mutants have formed an underground resistance, but the odds change when Wolverine enters the picture. Due to complicated plot contrivances involving Shadowcat’s time-travelling skills and Wolverine’s healing factor, Wolverine’s sent to 1973 to stop the event that’d kickstart everything. And the clock’s already ticking.

The scene I want to discuss occurs, like I said, during the climax, and it spans the two timelines. In the future, the mutant resistance has to hold off the sentinels and buy Shadowcat and Wolverine time. In the past, Wolverine, Professor X and Beast must confront Magneto and prevent him from murdering Trask. As the carnage of the future mixes with the suspense of the past, we’re left with a question: can the crisis be averted?

At first glance, it seems that no, it can’t. As the opening suggests, the mutants can buy themselves time, but only so much. Because sentinels are shapeshifters, they’ll forever have the upper-hand, as shown by them mowing down mutants like disposable pawns. Seeing that happen again, right as pivotal moments are happening in the past, makes it nail-biting. It’s the classic “all is lost moment”, except with higher stakes.

It doesn’t help that the little sacrifices end up meaning nothing: so Magneto blew up Professor X’s ship and stopped most of the sentinels? Too bad, the shrapnel severely wounded him. So Storm and Bishop were able to fend off early waves? Too bad, more sentinels have arrived. So Sunspot and Blink stalled for time? Too bad, they’re disposed of quickly. Even Iceman, who puts up a fight inside the hideout, is taken out with little effort, leaving a badly-wounded Shadowcat and Wolverine’s body fully-exposed.

The past isn’t fairing much better! Between Professor X being temporarily trapped, Beast having no chance alone and Trask’s sentinels under Magneto’s control, it seems like the future’s inevitable. Even Mystique, who’s dead-set on murdering Trask, refuses to budge. And right in the middle of this, the TV cameras are pointed at Magneto, who’s surrounded an empty stadium with sentinels, has Trask and several other politicians in the centre of it and is pointing all of them down with loaded guns. Both timelines are looking pretty grim.

And then Magneto gives a big, weighty speech, summarizing his philosophy and stating the message of the film. Ignoring the crosscuts between timelines, there are two points about this moment that make it powerful. The first, an external factor that’s largely speculative, is Proposition 8. Proposition 8 was a controversial amendment to California’s legislature that barred same-sex marriage, and it was repealed fully in 2013. Proposition 8 might not be mentioned, but given that Bryan Singer, the director, is gay, and that the franchise carries with it pro-gay undertones, it can’t be accidental that Proposition 8’s repeal and the timing of this movie were so close. Especially when looking at how this movie mirrors the history of gay people.

The second, one that holds more ground, is how younger Magneto’s speech ends right as older Magneto expresses his regrets to Professor X. As he says:

“All those years spent fighting each other, Charles…to have a precious few of them back…”

This is a big deal for Magneto, as he’s spent most of his life consumed by the vengeance brought on from being both a Jewish Holocaust survivor and a mutant. He’s so caught up in rage, he hasn’t seen clearly the damage he’s caused. He hasn’t seen how he’s driven people away. He hasn’t seen how his attempts at deflecting missiles in X-Men: First Class literally paralyzed Professor X. But most-importantly, he hasn’t seen how his radicalization of Mystique led her to murder Trask. He might clamour for a fight, but at what cost?

Of course, young Magneto’s taken out by Mystique soon after, leading to her final choice: does she murder Trask on camera, become a monster and kickstart the apocalyptic future, or does she listen to young Professor X’s words and spare him? It’s a tense moment, and it comes right as the future sentinels have taken out Iceman and are about to blow up Wolverine’s body. So much is relying on that moment, especially as Mystique cocks her gun. Essentially, it’s a “will she, or won’t she?” moment.

Ultimately, she chooses not to murder Trask, realizing she’d be no better than him if she did. And with that final decision, the future apocalypse vanishes. The sentinel’s blast stops, everyone in that room disappears, and the tension resolves. It’s over, like it never happened. And it’s brilliant.

It helps that this scene has excellent use of film techniques: there are lots of crosscuts between past and present, with audio bleeding over. Much of the action in the future battle’s slowed down, signalling how tragic and hopeless it is. Each death is focused on individually, so as to show weight. Even the music, which alternates between loud and frenetic in the past and slow and miserable in the future, is great, and the main score’s even noticeable at one point. But the part that makes it work best is that we’ve come to care for these characters.

A lot’s been said about these movies: how influential they are. How dated they feel. How the director of four of them is an accused pedophile. All of these are worth discussing in further detail, but the one constant is getting people to think. So much depth exists here, and this scene’s a microcosm of why. It’s truly One X-Cellent Scene.

It’s too bad the franchise took a nosedive in quality following its success, but that’s what Logan and the Deapool movies are for, right?