Monday, August 8, 2011

Chile's thriller


Chilean Education System is shit. Its students, fortunately, ain't so.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Press any key




The other day I ran into Press any key by Adam Saltsman. This game (let's call it game) is any minimalist's delight: the only thing the player does is to fill the screen with red dots, each of which appears when the player (you guessed it) presses any key on the keyboard. In addition, several messages appear above the game to spur you on your task. As I am a patient guy I got the time to play it to the point it reveals its true objective: to help us understand the true scale of large numbers, in this case a hundred thousand, because each red dot represents one of the hundred thousand civilian deaths since the U.S. invasion of Iraq in 2003.
I remembered then how big it always sounded to me the thirty thousand we had here in Argentina, and I wanted to see if, with the advantage that not any event on this date requests it, I could do something similar (even if we didn't have an actual war and our thirty thousand don't get to be dead yet). Something somewhat predictable turned out, something unimpressive, but I liked it. The result was
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Sunday, July 17, 2011

The body of Dean Moynihan



Just four keys: ←, ↑, →, and the spacebar. The body, Dean Moynihan's last game, is one of those dark games that if they do tell a story they make it obliquely, and slowly, as to irritate the hurried player. It is also one of those that, except for a few elements, are not that different from a short, bleak animation.
Its greatest virtues are the atmosphere it creates and some playful thing between the narration of the past and the present, using resources imported (don't know if I'm bluffing here) from cinema. I put it here just because I can, but you can also play it in the author's website, or if you want an even weirder experience, you can take a look at the original file without frame.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Always looking on the bright side of life




Continuing with this a bit ridiculous thing of expressing my moods through videos found around the webs, this week you get Always look on the bright side of life, which coincidentally is the end of Life of Brian, so I don't recommend watching the video without having previously watched the film.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Channels

Some readers (in the broad sense of the word) find from time to time in certain works of art the expression of thoughts we failed to externalize ourselves. This is one of the functions of art, although not the only one nor the most important. Channels, by Graham Annable, made me think of this.



Being sad is like riding a bicycle: once you learn how to, you can continue throughout life, no matter how much time you spend without doing it. Being happy is like playing the piano: no matter how much you practice, any neglect may may damage your technique. Feel free to reverse the metaphor and make it optimistic. Pain may just be like playing the piano and pleasure like cycling. Aphorisms have that: they can claim anything in any circumstance sounding equally true and being equally useless. Two things, however, remain indisputable: I never learned to ride a bike nor I know how to play the piano.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Surviving, I said


As I already said, I'm sad. But I also predicted the Internet would lift my spirits, and there was some of that. I was never a good prophet, anyway. What I did got were some smiles, mostly due to things like these:

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Genius at the speed of light



We often say an artist "makes so much with so little." And whether we're talking about Pizarnik or MacGyver, we're referring to their ability to maximize the expressive possibilities of the materials they work with. Never before has this expression described so well an artistic phenomenon as with the boys of 5-Second Films.
The idea (making five-second long films) is not much more than the name. But it is no less either. And the implementation has surpassed the idea (as in the commonplace, not that they've started making longer shorts). So relax, and learn to enjoy the magic of cinema.



Thursday, May 26, 2011

Unnecessary apologies




And though I know I have nothing to apologize for, at least let me explain that if I'm a little leaving the Notebook out is because I'm having problems of a sentimental nature. I suppose instead of abandoning it I could have taken advantage of it, writing sad poems and posting love songs. But there are too many pages like that and I rather prefer the simplicity of... of... ¡no!

Stay · Silvio Rodríguez [lyrics]

Good God how embarrassing I just accidentally dropped a corniness. Well, I have many of that kind. I hope in the coming days internet'll serve to the purpose it was invented for and uplift me a bit.

Saturday, April 30, 2011

The day of Adán Buenosayres

Anyone remotely familiar with Bloomsday will find in this post a repeated idea that, however, excited me so much I had to write about it, even if too late. The day of Adán Buenosayres is a big tour in Saavedra that'll follow the path Adán and his companions held on Thursday April 28th of 1921 or 1927.
I can't begin to describe how pleased I am with this very modest event to which, due to lack of time and transportation, I won't be able to attend. As people who know me know, Marechal's Adán Buenosayres is one of my favorite things. April 30, the day of Adán's death, was always a personal anniversary that I have the habit of reminding me. I never knew if Marechal chose it knowing Hitler had died on that very same date, I guess it doesn't have much to do with it.
But anyway, read the book, go to the event, enjoy life.

Monday, April 18, 2011

One news article and three works of art





In a news article published in Página/12 newspaper, the journalist Gustavo Ajzenman says video games are "finding their own vocabulary, but they shouldn't be confused with interactive art". The phrase isn't entirely his: in the article, Ajzenman interviews several members of the ADVA (Argentinian Game Developers Association), and it's Agustín Pérez Fernández who states:
"It's not interactive art, but art games. We don't want to lose that identity, because it's a different language that's worth exploring."
The distinction doesn't satisfy me. If we interpret the term interactive art literally, we'll see it describes video games precisely: games are, after all, works of art, and who's to deny they're interactive. And for claiming they're works of art, art game is as redundant as art poem or art film, because we know that all films, independently (and this is very important) from their quality, are works of art. And yes, even Explosive brigade 3: Pirate mission.
At most, one could say video games are a particular type of interactive art. Or not, I don't know. To defend an identity, as it does or seeks to do Pérez Fernández, maybe it's worth making a couple of inaccurate statements. Maybe interactive art doesn't apply to any work of art that's interactive, maybe it has a narrower meaning. What I do know (and here I put an end to this very extensive prologue) is that, for the Chilean Alejandro Grilli J. the term video game has a broad meaning. Come see, if you don't believe me, these three works of his authorship that I leave you below:

Prosopamnesia
Prosopagnosia is a disorder of perception which prevents or impairs face recognition. Prosopamnesia is played with the mouse, and the goal (if there's any) is trying to recognize a full face (with an emphasis on trying, because you never do). It has no clear ending. It does a good job conveying a good dowry of despair to the player, eager to recognize a face. Kind of the desperation one feels would get if one day would wake up unable to recognize the most expressive and recognizable part of the human body.

Lucid interval of the unconscious individual
I have absolutely no fucking idea what this game may mean. If we adhere to that works of art must mean something, of course. Lucid interval of the unconscious individual is a rather strange thing, also played purely by mouse, in which you take the role of an Anglophone psychoanalyst quite distracted from his Spanish-speaking patient's psychotic rant. Whether it is a criticism of psychoanalysis, a reference to the Rorschach test, a commentary on the impossibility of communication or an excuse to have fun doodling, it's worth playing.

Deconstructivism
Quite similar to Prosopamnesia, tough the only strong point of contact is the use of random images taken from Google searches, Deconstructivism seems like an experiment on the capacity to manipulate visual information through ActionScript 3. It provides a single image at a time (to change it you have to refresh the page) wich, also with the mouse, you can ... cut, I guess, in pieces that move depending on the direction we give them. Whether you play it for a while or just leave it playing itself, after some time you get a very distorted version of the original.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

The comeback

And that's what going back to school feels like. The anguish of knowing that no matter how hard you try, you'll always be below the expectations. The confusion of trying to understand the bureaucratic apparatus of an institution that seems to desire your desertion every moment. The torture of endure a rant of two (sometimes four) hours, or better put, the despair of expecting the current speaker didn't say anything vital while you were far away, dreaming with better worlds. Sometimes I'm willing to sacrifice my right to rethink the subjects' contents, as long as they plug me a pendrive in the neck with all the necessary information and transfer it to my brain.
Although not everything is tears in the world of the pedagogy of terror (and believe me that fear is the real engine of study, some teachers brag about it): college has also a very good side, it's just I'm in no mood to remember it.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Comparisons: the scornful women



Scornful woman,
a painting by Egon Schiele

Doodled first, then colored a hundred years ago by the Austrian painter Egon "who knows me" Schiele. (Technique: materials as ordinary as watercolor and charcoal.)

Still without a name,
a relief by Natalia Coppa

Brought into this world from Heaven a few months ago by the Latin American titan Natalia Soledad Coppa Angelini. (Technique: forged with the clay that God used to make Man and then passed to noble cement.)

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

On the label and the scarecrow

I remember an argument from a couple years ago. It started from a more or less simple question: if a painting or other visual artwork incorporates letters and/or words as visual elements, ¿is it at least in part a literary work? I said yes and someone said no, but probably the right answer would be "what the fuck do I care".


Rótulo1 by Xul Solar

We can't get rid of categories, they're essential for thinking, but we can invent new categories to solve problems the old ones can't. We got used to think artistic doctrines as countries or provinces, delineated areas of land. So we believe the difference between Painting and Literature, for example, is a line on the ground, beyond which is Literature and behind wich is Painting. We want to solve new problems with old metaphors. We're thousands and thousands trying to build a state-of-the-art computer with centuries-old tools.
I want to think it otherwise, I don't know exactly how. Better yet: I want to start looking for what to think it with, what system or what metaphor. Today, a work of art is a piece of dough and to create it we must decide whether we put in the box of Music or the box of Poetry. Tomorrow it can be a meal, and Sculpture or Comics mere ingredients we put in the amounts we can. Or maybe the artwork will be a person standing on a road between, I don't know, Novel and Videogames, and we'll have to decide at which end of the road to stand, or right in the middle, or closer to one end than to the other, and how close.



Espantapájaros2 by Oliverio Girondo

Xul Solar painted and Oliverio Girondo wrote. But Xul Solar put words in his paintings and Girondo put images in his poems. But Xul Solar wrote with his images and Girondo drew with his words.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

The pendulum and the Mecha

A few days ago I said CODEAR "Perón" (you know, ¿right?, the Perón-themed video game contest) was going slow. And it might then be true, but now we have...

The rise and fall of Mecha-Perón
by Santiago Martín Vilar, Fernando Martínez Herrera and Nicolás Viegas Palermo
¡Oh, no! ¡A group of mad Japanese Peronist scientists (imagine the time it took me to put those adjectives in the right order) constructed a giant Mecha-Perón that, once gone mad and rebelled against its creators (as is only natural to happen), decides to destroy Tokyo!
Or perhaps, better put: "¡Oh, no! ¡You're a giant Mecha-Perón and a lot of aircraft and missile launchers want to ruin your perfectly legitimate desire to destroy Tokyo!". Mouse to shoot the eye lasers, Z to fire the hand-missile.

Evita and Perón against the gorillas
by Diego Essaya, Fabián García and Leandro Casadei
I already said about this one, so so far I have only to correct that what I said were national coats of arms in the game (possibly because of the low resolution and my lack of attention) are in fact PJ shields.

The peronaut pendulum
by Tomás Glasman
The most historic of those presented so far. In what possibly is one of the most acid and sadly true satires of Peronism, the player takes the place of Perón (in a parallel universe in which the Libertadora failed) trying to remain in power pleasing the movement's most varied sectors. Operating at discretion from the Rosy House, the basic unit (later left-winged Peronism's headquarters) and the Department of Labor (later Ministry), Perón tries to keep his voters in the working-class, in the Peronist armed organizations, in the business sector and the (implicitly) union bureaucracy. The game continues indefinitely until the player is overthrown or loses an election.

So that's all. Oh, and registration closes tomorrow and the voting starts.

(Note of March 20: I updated the links to the games' new versions and final versions. Oh, and I leave you Mejor que zozobre y no que fafalte, Revancha Zombie: unidos o dominados y Perón Rising: Choripán Commando, which were updated after I wrote this entry.)

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Evita and Perón against the gorillas

Evita y Perón contra los gorilas por dessaya, granquesote y mateamargo
1. Control zombie Perón with the W, A, S and D keys.
2. Recover your lost hands, which are lying around.
3. Destroy gorillas1 (aimming with the mouse and clicking to shoot).
4. Collect the rural workers used as slave labor (by clicking when you're on them).
5. Take them to the truck that goes to Plaza de Mayo.
6. Collect the national coats of arms that give you health and the Evitas that help you wipe out the gorillas.
CODEAR "Perón" is evolving slower than one would expect, but the few results it's giving are excellent results. If you don't believe me check out Mejor que zozobre y no que fafalte and Revancha Zombie: unidos o dominados. None is finished, but they all promise.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Bony hands

This may come as a surprise to many, but I sometimes write. Lately I've been working on a short story I started long ago, of which I can't declare myself the original author in absolute terms, and which until now had no title but I now almost know will respond to the name of Manos huesudas or, if my Spanish pride permits me, Bony hands. And it starts something like this:1
There was no skin or muscle to hold on to. The whole human frame, yesterday forgettable or hidden, now inevitable, forced. That usually hidden, of wich only a couple of incisors or the arrangement of vertebrae are familiar, now on the surface and for everybody to see. A handful of cold distal phalanges, white as the sun, hard from the dry, capriciously tightening or loosening the three pistons of a trumpet. Carpals and metacarpals accommodating to the sweet or hostile shape of a violin bow. The uncomfortable humerus welcoming the unconquerable volume of a guitarron.
There were four skeletons dressed as mariachi, with their big hats and colorful clothes, still as the silence emanating from its four dumb instruments, waiting for nothing, already resolved in their honorable and perhaps eternal purpose of decorating my desk. The shortest of the four played a double bass, I never understood why. The higher, the violinist, measured less than the cigarette Celso had just accommodated in the ashtray. [...]
Nice, ¿right? I know, I love it too. Although it's more likely that tomorrow when I reread it I'll think it's shit. That happens to me, and I think that happens to a lot of people too. For now, I like this I'm writing. Now we have to see if I finish it someday.

Monday, February 28, 2011

Journey through the second dimension


I was messing around with the blog's design these past few days and the only change I found (sort of) necessary is the one I just did: expand the width of the page. Nine hundred pixels were too narrow in a wider monitor than mine, those so fashionable lately. Too much white space on the sides, made me nervous.
The good news is images will look bigger from now on (beacuse of this thing of mine to make them coincide with the column's width) and that I can name my posts more widely without fearing the double line, which always looks so ugly in a title (at least for the maniac who writes this).
The bad news is the new Blogger templates don't allow percentage width, so instead of establishing a width of a hundred percent (which would occupy the whole width of the screen regardless of screen size) I settled for a thousand pixels, which occupies most of my humble monitor of 1024, doesn't leave much emptiness in one of those pedants of 1360, and doesn't give a complete shit about any resolution narrower than a thousand. The other option would have been getting back to the classic template of my original design, but the Awesome one (the current one) is so cute it makes me want to hug it.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Storm

I like positivists. There, I said it, ¿everyone happy? I know it's an anachronism, but I can't help it. I like people who before starting to question the validity of empiricism, who before criticizing science as an institution, who before pointing the hegemonic interests relevant for the process of legitimation of knowledge, who before questioning the universality of the universe, make sure not to be talking with an obscurantist.
Positivism, with all its faults, tried to prevent the survival of the last vestiges of the Middle Ages. The problem is it failed, and the last medievalists cling in desperation to the theories that overcome positivism to justify themselves. Then, all of a sudden, any moron claims that the interpretation of facts is stronger than the facts and believes that proves as well that the law of gravity is just as demonstrable as the existence of God, then we must believe in both. ¿But do you want to know what's the truth? Because I do too.

Friday, February 18, 2011

Grim Fandango

Simply one of the best things that were made in the history of mankind. Not the best, but certainly one of the best. Anyone claiming videogames aren't artworks should jump from a fifth floor take a peek at Grim Fandango and get convinced once and for all.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

¿Why to love the platypus?

     ¿So you want to know why I love the platypus so much? Besides being beautiful, of course. Well, I love the platypus because:
1. they're mammals but they lay eggs, as only the echidna does besides them (I guess I can also sympathize with the echidnas);
2. they're mammals but they're poisonous, so be careful with the two male's heels;
3. they're mammals but they don't have nipples for breastfeeding, they flow milk from the pores of the torso;
4. their sex is defined by ten chromosomes instead of two: ten X for females, five X and five Y for males;
5. they don't resemble anything in this world, except maybe the ducks or the beavers.
     This, obviously, assuming, as I don't get tired of checking, the eccentricities of anything are reason enough to love it.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Phineas and Ferb

¿Did I mention I love Phineas and Ferb? Seriously, I spent years watching TV with my sister, and although we are brothers —half brothers in fact, like Phineas and Ferb are— most of the programs she enjoys are execrable to me.
Until very recently I thought that children's television had no salvation, that everything in it was becoming stupid and stupider every second. I was very surprised to find a funny, intelligent, well written series and, in addition, vice-starred by my favorite non-human animal.
So, honorable Dan Povenmire and Jeff Marsh, ¡I salute you!

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Outrage

     ¿What? ¿Ten days and still no new entry? This is outrageous, I have to complain somewhere.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Cucucachá

    The Bluth family in all its glory. Chicken impressions for all tastes.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

A͊͊͗ͪ͂͒̿͋̏̿̀̆̄̑̓ ̏̌ͦ̈́̂ͩͦͯ̔̏͌l͌̒ͬ̿̎ͣ̋͂̉̈́̋ͣͦ̒ͦ̋í͒͛ͫ͊ͭ̐t͆̓ͩ̅̚t̉̊̉̄͛̊̌ͧ̄͆ͤlͥͤ͗ͩ͐͛ͨ̄̇̂eͫͫ̽͌͋̓͗̽̌ͭ̉̄̃̎̈́ͫͪͫ͆ ͨͦ̈ͣ͛͐ͬ̎ͦ̏̀̅̌å̓̔ͨ͆ͭͨͦlͫ̆̏̒tͩ̈̔̈ͥͧ͐̂ͪͥ̓ͪ̏ͣeͯ̌͗͑r͛̅ͧ̇͋ͦͬ̅̇ͯ̔̃̓̚c͋́̌̄̓a̓̉̒̀́̑ͩͭ̓̾͑t̓̍̾͐̍͂ͭ̋i͊̏̈̅̔ͬ̔͗̂ő͆͒ͦͮ͆͌ͭͯ̚n̏̒̊̿̊̄ͪ̃ͣͭͥ͛ͬ̐̓

Good afternoon to all casual readers of A sort of notepad.

My name is Z͈̱ͧ̅ͦ̑͌ͥ̚m̯̠̣̣͖̞̌ͣê̗̼͕ͧͮ̾́̊͒l͖̰̖͑ͮ̏̀̓̊, I am a several thousa͙͓̹̼ͫ͒̔̑ͦ̇ñ͔͇̦̥̞̪̗̉́̓d͖̠̥͔̗̊̄͑ͮ̈ͅ ̥̥̪̚ͅy͔ͪ̒̔ͪ́e̓̅ͧ̉̂̐͂a̪̙̦̘͈̟͊͌̇͆̍̄r̼͙̝̈́̿ͮ͛̎̒̚ͅs̳̪͈̱ͅ ͎͎̗̘͙̟̦ͬ͋ô͎͔̹͎͉̺̋ͯͅl̦̯͐̎d͉̼̼ ̔̌̆́̆v͕̜̯̜̻̓͊̆e̥͎̝̗͍̙̻͂̋͛́͋ͦry scary demon. I currently came into possession of that mortal you call David Marchand and I'm taking his body for several days.

He̓̿̌͊ ̈́̑ͨ̚a̔̀sͫ̿ͦ̈k̀ͯ̋̄̅e͑ͣ̊ͫ̈ͬd̿̽͋̇̐͒͂ ͣ̋m̀ē s̀pec̒͌̅͑̄ͣi͛͛̅f̓iͭ̌̆͆̈́ͤc̅͛ͮͤͫ̓al̎ͪl̾ͪ͌͐̄͆y̆̈̉͗ to̊ͪͧ̉͑́͗ ͩ͗ͫ̈́͋t̉eͧlͣͭ̓̆l͌͗ͧͥ ͗̑̄ŷo̿ͮ̿ͮ̚ũ͌̉̈́̌̚ ̎h̄̌ͭ̈e is very hurt by the recent death of María Elena Walsh, but he is fine and ṇ̠̲͚̗͔e͉̺͍x̣͉̲̟̟t̯̗̹̯̝ͅ wee͓͖k̻̪͇̳̻̗̥ ͎̟͕͈̲͓w̻̳̼̰̥̠͖i̟̪l̘̯̣̖͖̲͈l͙̭͙͓̙̩ ̱̼̘͓̗͇̮c͈̘̫͕̬o͙͙̝͖̪͈n̯͓̠͚t̺͙̤͖̱i̻̦̜n̠̙̗ṵ͚e̫̰ ̗̠̙to̯ ͍t͔͉a͉͇̣ke care of his notepad properly.

I think that's all.
Oh, and he asked me very carefully̠͖͎̮̻ͪͦ no̜̬̒t̜̝͎̰̥̘͍ͨ͗ͮ ̲̼͚̠ͫͩͬ̀̋t̻͖̮͉̰̯̞o̖̱͖̼ ͉̗͈f̞̋̋̐͛o̠̹̱̖͍͛̈́r̫̯̣̥̙g̜͌͋̅e̤̬̮̰̥̝ͥͪt̯̥͇̙̮̔̋ ̱̻͔̯̆̚ť͉̮̜͈ͧ̃̆ͪͮͬo͈̝̻͖̍̈́ ̝͙̼͔͎̞ͮ͛̄̒̄ͯ̋t͎̦̻̐̈́ͧ̚ẹ̹͙̞̱̌ͧ̌ͣ̍ͅl̪̗̤͑̒̓̊l̮͔̊ͨ͂̄̾ ͓̼̼̮y̦͉̭̗͚̣o͉͉͔̱̬͉u͓̭̻͇̳ͮͪ͌̒͂ͤ̑ ͍̗͂ͣt̼̻͇̘̠̰ͭh͈̬͙̓̊̒a̲͙͌ͤͥ̆̔̐͋̓̚ẗ͔̩͔̫͚̠ͩ̒͋͒̆̃ ̭̖̙̠̜̾͗ͥ̍͛͌ͬ̂ͅt̟̹͇͇̋̇́̚ͅͅh̳͓̺̰̭͈̲̥̏̽̂̌̀ͮͧ̚e̦̤̜̟̖̱̥̞̰ͥ̂̀̊ ̙̦̌̍e͇̔͋ͣn̻̬͛͂̿̒́̒ͯd̰̯̖͕̞̻ͨ̓ͬ̇̓͑ ͚̮͓͂͑o̺͈̳ͭͬ̂͌̇͗ͫͯ̅f͇̫̻͇ͮ̉ͯͭ̓̾͂̌͋ ̲͖̥̝̠̰̌̌̊ͅt̖͛ͣ͒ͧͦ̉͂i̲̹̩̘̜͕̲̘̭͛̓̊̍͒m̗͔̼͒ͨ̿e̯̩̠͇̤͚͉̎ͯ̋ͭ͛̽͛͌͗ś̙͍̟̮̭ͨ̿ͣ͗͗ͮ ̦̲̖̄͆ͤͦͥ̑ͭi͇͙̯͍ͭ͂ͤͪ̏ș̲̜̅͛ͪ̈́̍̔̉ͬͅ ̺̭͍̰̼͙̖͉̐̄ͯͮn̠̫ͫ̐̌̆̃̾e̮̤̫̯̞ͪͧ̓ͣa̩͖͓̰͍̲̟̪̅̀r̥͈̺̜̼̮ͦ͂̀̊̔͋ͥ̄͋ ̥͖̖̙ͪ̇̾͑͋ͨ̾̀̎a̹̼̯͕͒͋̈̚ń̪̜͖͍̈́̾ͩ͛̾ḏ͔̭̝̯̝̜̣͂͑ ̙̙̼̃ͮ͂̑ͫ̚s̘͓̻͎̈́̌͊̒̂̍ͭ̎u͎̯̖̦̮̘̅̈̂̚ŕ̰̘̪͇͔̭͉̭̩ͩ̇ͮ̊r̙̻̰̬ͮ̓͐̎͒͐͑̚e̳͙̟̫̠̥͔̹̭͚̼̩ͨ̄̀̓͒̋ͮͧ̆͛ͮn͕̲̯̲͍̹̱̥͍͉̣̞͍͎ͬ̐ͩͣ̑̑ͥ̿̃ͩͫ̂ͫ͐͛͋͗̚d̥͖͈̤̥͕̝͔͓̞̦͈͕͖̜̋ͭͯ̐̃ė̻͉̞̯͙͙͈̠̦͇̫̖̭̮͗̄ͩ̀̈́̊ͣ͌̈̉̄ͬṛ̮̲̦̝̣̭̟̼̙͕͌͒̿̌͋̒ͪͥ̐͌͑̔͒̍ͅ ̲͚͖͙͇͖̙̺̖͎̗̣͓̮͍̩̣͍͖̒̅̅̑ͭ̓̆͐͗ͤͤ̉̈́̚a̘̗̮̥̖̤͓̝̹̟̲̹̝̪͐́͒̍ͬ̾ͥ͑ͅl̫̙̲͉̬̝͎̪̺̲͇͈̬͖̭̂̐́͛͊̄̃̇̄ͩ͛̏̑ͨͨͦl̤̤̱̤̙̣̭̭͖͔̓̄ͪͮͩͨ̀͛ͣ͂̿ͮ̆̀ͅ ̲̫̘͈̳̫͇̦̼͈͈ͮ̽̏͋̄̓͊̂̍ͧ̍ͪ̔̄ͅt̩̠̯̠͒̿ͫ́̌̒̐̒o̦̭͓͔̻̞͚̠̤̪͚͓̰̘̓̃̇̋̌̂͌ͭ̃̏ͅ ̩̖͓̟̋̒̈̓ͥ̃̓̚t͉͍̻̗̣̭̫͓̤̹̱͎ͩͭ̏̄̀ͬͮͭ̾ͮͭͥ̈́́́̾͌ͅh̘̼̠̫̜͐̔͊͐̅̓̎̄́ë͉̞̦̩̬́̊͋ͥ̿̽̆̀́̋̄ͪ̆ͫ̆̆ͮ̇ͅ ̫̬̗̣̹̥̱̪̯̻̦̮̀̋̍͗ͨ͛̆ͮ̽̌ͩͧ͌̈́̒͌͗m̫̠̜̘͉͍͚̙͔̂̍ͩ̓̈́ͤͩ͊ͦ̑ǎ̩̳͇͈̼̹̦̟̮͕͔̖̗̤̗͊͌̂̌͐͂ͦ̾͋ͧ͐̋̅ͅj̰̙̣͔̭͎͇̹̖͉͔͖̺̖͙̙ͭ̈́ͩ͆ͤͧͅe̲̞̮̙͔̰͊ͦ͛̄̍ͅs͎͈̟̮̜̜̪̥͉͎̳̹͚̗͚͕͙ͮ͂͐̅̒͌ͨ̉͆͂̏̒̎̌t͇̻̘̖̻̠̘̰̫͖̬̘̮̞͕̹̙̭̟ͨͩ̏̿̊̏ͯ͐̆̈́̐̐y̥̰͈̗̳̲̭̹͂̋̉̃̅͗ͧ͊̈̓̊ ̫̮̞̼̦͑̀̔ͤ̔͛̃͒ͩ̿͛ͦo̫̟͙̹͖̙̜͈͓͚̝͖̺̭̯̎ͩ̅̔ͩ̉ͨ͑ͪ̊̈͐f̠̦͕͖̤̤̣̝̺̯̗̫͙̖ͥ̔̽͋ͭ̎̔ ̙͕̪͚̬͎͈͙͈̻̯̝̺̈̌̄͑̃ͫͮ̒ͯͪ̓̈ͫ̓̂̎ͧ̔̚Z͙̝͍͎͚͍͉̬̠̞̮̲̥͉̻̝̽̇̌̑̃ͅm̟̟͕̙ͪ̋̂̓ͯ̿̿̊̅̎̉̈ͯͩ͆̽͐ẽ͈̹͉͓͈̩̯͈͇̦̖͒̽ͣ̍ͨ͆̐ͥ̔͌̓̄́̊ͯ̇̋l̪̖̮̳̩͎͇̝͍̘̮̥̗͉̮̋ͣ̔̓͋̌ͫ̿ͧ̾̅ͬ́̅̾̉͂̚ͅͅͅ,̱̪͖͙̖̬͔̙̘̲͗̉̈́͛ͤͭͭ́̑ͣ̋̎̓ͤ̍̀ͦ ͔̦͍̫̻̗̘̰̱̩̤͂̽̍ͨ̿̄̿ͯ̊͒̓̑̓k͉̟̭̱͇̣̬̦̙̠̙̲͕̰̭̪̱͖̔̂̉̀̄̍̇̀̌̂̈̅̄̚i̖͕̜̞̘͔̐ͤ̏ͪ̉ͣ̎n̪̲̟͍̙̹̯̫̭͍̰̺̙̅͆̈̅͆̄͐̊g̪̬̮̫̟̫̞̳̭̫͎̠͉̝͉̯͊̆͑ͧ̌̂̆̀́̍̈́ͅ ̩̮̟̳̼̘͚͍̳͕̬̺̫͖͚̼ͧ̒̊̎͛ͦ̃ͬͅo̗̬̫͔̬̳̻̥̩̘̲͍̐̏͋̃͂̏͛̊̒̔͒̂ͅf̭͓͔̟̪̆̅ͯ̒ͧ̆ͨ ͍̻͈̩͕͇̟͖̎̈̽̄̈ͬ̋̓̌t̤̯̺̬̼͚̠̟̹̮͎̘̤̣̥̖̜̝ͯ̓͑̍ͯ̎̓͒̔̉̎̍̃ͫͮͭͯ͆h͈̺̥̝̪̫̥̜̗͒ͪ̍̎͛ͥͯ̊͗͌e̦̼̺͈̹͎̺̻̜̦͈̱̲͈̼̿̿͛̂ͩͧ́̃ ̲̖̹̯̝͙͈͓͍͚̯̈́̌̓ͨ͑̎̊ͤ̆̋̒͑ͭs̫̺͔͔̻̤̱͍͖̝̗̮̘͇͔̺̤͕̅̅̔̽ͩͭ̔̽̑̂ͪ̒̚̚k̩̺̹̙͖̫͉̟̗̲͉̰̟̖̹͐̔́ͮ̎̏ͤͯ͌̓̒̄ͩ̌ͦͤ̽ĭ͚̰̙̐ͬͯ͂̒ͥ̋ͫͬ́̇̎ͪ̉̿ͭ̿ͩe̯̝̬̥̼͍̖͙̠͔̝ͨͩͭ̂̈̍̈s̲̼̤͇̬̘̭̼̬̓ͪͦ̋ͨ̓̀̃̔ͮ̽ͫ̒ͫ͐̽̂ͅ,̬̝̮̤̪̝̥̗̯͋ͥ̌̃ ̭̦̳͗̋ͦ̅̆͌̌e̠̗͎̹̥̖̥͕̻̪͙̪̮͉̻ͨ͂̍ͬͮ̌̆ͭ̆̉̊ͨ̽́̓̇̚̚ḁ̩̠̺̯̪͕̤̟̬̲̮̇͂̌̍ͬͩ̓͂̄̒̉̅̀ͥ̋r̠̯̳̪̥͈͙̳͒̿̓̈́͋͌̏t͎̜̻̰̙̋ͤ̉̇̂̍̽ͤ͑͂̑̏̌̏̋̿͑h̥͖͓̬͎̲̞̤̟͋͂͌ͯ̏͐̇ͪ͊̐͌ͅ ̝̳̮̻͔̫̤ͩ͌͑͗̂̂ͧͬá͉͚͙͙͖̥̖̭͔̭͔͍̝̏̾͐̐̈̇͂ͦ̄̂n̮̟̭̩̘͉̱ͪͤ̌ͣͯͪ̅̍̑d̻̤̣̑̉̋̍͗̽̉ͭ̀̈́̉̚ͅ ̰̫̻̖̗̗̟̯̳͙̹̼̙̟͚̣̿ͩͬͧͮ̎͌s͍̲̱͔̥̜͍͉̠ͭ̾ͥ́̋͒͒̎̓̓̔ė̞̳̘̠̦̻̲̣͖̞̜̺͑͑a̹̱̤͍͇̹̗̠̬̩͂ͧͯͦ̉̌͒͆͋ͣͨ̽͑̒ͧ̇͒̇̚.̰̼̼̺͈̺̤̘̹͎ͮͨ͋ͩͨ̾̽͗̌̈́͑

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Don't look back

     Today I bring you Don't look back by Terry Cavanagh, to play here or on its Kongregate page or full screen. This game has been popularly praised for its ability to express a lot with very few resources, and popularly booed for having an exaggerated difficulty level. I don't think it's so hard, but it's true that it's a generally good idea to facilitate a game, at least to expand a little the encompassment of its enunciatee (or public, if you prefer the word, although it's not exactly the same.)
     If you want to play it and live the whole experience, in a way close to how the author planned it, this is the last chance I give you to stop reading me and play it. Just click Play game (or wait half a minute), then Start new game and know that the whole game is played only using the arrow keys to move and spacebar to shoot —once found the revolver— and that if you quit you can return any other day at the same place where you left it clicking Restore game. Past this point I will not hesitate to mention the end of the game and other things you should not know, at least for a while.

     It's always hard to summarize cherished artworks to a handful of words. Luckily for me, (allegedly) independent online game industry works so that each person must summarize to a sentence each of their games. So, for example, we know for the author Don't Look Back is "a challenging action-platformer in a minimalist style".
     The description is as accurate as one that short can be. In an interview with Brad Gallaway, Terry Cavanagh gets much closer to what Don't look back is by telling the two central ideas he wanted to join long before knowing how it would end up being:
1. That the gameplay was actually a metaphor for something else that's happening to the player, or to the character the player controls.
2. That the game was initially presented as a silly shooter, and was redeemed with a twist that put all previous actions into a new, far more interesting context.
     These two ideas up here listed in order of importance, are revealed to the player in reverse order through the game, and with each revelation one understands a bit more of the meaning of the title.
     The game begins with a man standing by a grave on a rainy night and the phrase "don't look back" in large letters. A title, by its peculiar enunciative situation, has the advantage —or disadvantage, maybe— of being able to pass as a mere identificatory phrase, so in principle we don't have much information about what it means nor we care too much to find out. The typical enunciatee of the game speaks English, understands that the sentence is mandatory, but not knowing who says it or to whom is addressed he can't provide more content. So begins the game, and the character moves to the right through the forest according to the platformer mechanics, restarting the screen every time he dies until he overcomes it, and then finds a gun to defend himself. Past the forest he goes into a cave full of peril, and the player is gradually understanding that it's all a descent into the underworld.
     After defeating the greatest demon —probably Satan or some equivalent— the protagonist enters a final stretch into the darkness, and finds the ghost of a woman. At this point, we have enough information to assume this is the protagonist's beloved one, whose tomb we saw at the beginning of the game. Our character turns left and starts going —almost— the same way we were doing but in reverse, with the ghost in tow. This second half has a twist: the protagonist can't walk right. If he does, the ghost disappears and we reset the screen. Notice how the gameplay itself symbolically equates the loss of the loved one to death, both having the same consequence in the game. Here unfolds what Terry Cavanagh proposed as a second central idea of the game: this is the part where the silly shooter redeems itself and presents all previous actions under a new lens. And here the name of the game goes from being nothing to signify something else: "don't look back" may be an order the spectrum gives to the man, and is also a reference to the the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. A metaphor of the myth, if you will.
     Having retraced all the way, the man and his beloved one reach the first screen of the game. They both find, by the grave, the protagonist as it was before the game started. It's revealed then that the man hasn't ever moved from that place, and that the whole adventure was simply the manifestation of the desire to recover his loved one. Given this revelation, fictitious man and ghost vanish leaving the real protagonist alone with his thoughts, and the phrase "don't look back" appears in large letters, returning us to the main menu very subtly. Then the main idea whereby the work was developed appears: that everything that was being played is actually a fantasy, a metaphor for something else that's happening to the protagonist. The title takes on a new meaning: "don't look back" may be a moral, the imperative of not getting caught in the ghosts of the past. A moral I don't share —not forgetting nor forgiveness, ¿right?— but is beautifully and impeccably delivered. If we grant the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice is a metaphor to this notion, then the game —as a metaphor for the myth— can safely be admitted as a metaphor for a metaphor —metametaphor, or something like that—.

     I didn't say much of other things worth mentioning and analyzing, as everything related to the visual presentation —¡how much can be done with only four colors!—, the small single-headed Cerverus —reaffirming the reference to Greek mythology— and the brief but incredible soundtrack Terry Cavanagh composed specially for the game and with much effort.
     I'll write more things like this in my Notebook, so if you don't like reading much pray for I don't come across another game so great already translated1 —such as Today I die— or that doesn't need major translations —such as this one—.