“I don’t know. Stop asking,” Tom said. He sat on a rock to empty the dirt, sticks and rocks from his shoes. “We’ll probably just shoot the empty cans of beer.”

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Jeb asked, and then cracked open another beer. The crinkle of the aluminium can, and the burst of carbonation annoyed the shit out of Tom.

“I’ve been down these trails a million times with my Dad.” These were the trails Tom overturned mossy rocks and logs in search of snails while Dad hunted deer.

“How is your Mom and Dad doing now, anyways?”

“None of your business,” Tom said and tied his shoes.

Tom thought spending the weekend prodding a campfire with driftwood, and drinking beers around a campfire would be the perfect getaway. But Jeb’s endless stream of questions eroded Tom’s patience down to a powder blown away by the wind.

He simply wanted to lay on the sand, listen to the heave and ho of the ocean, to escape Mom’s mental breakdowns, his shitty job as a bag boy, and Dad’s dementia.

They continued along the trail, pushing through branches that scratched their arms and legs like long fingernails. Jeb, the stumbling idiot that he was, tripped on the roots exposed like old bones. When Jeb whined he needed to take a piss, they stopped beside a broken tree.

“You shouldn’t have chugged all those beers,” Tom said, sitting on a moss-covered tree trunk, and leaning the rifle beside his leg. Two crows landed on the broken tree; one nipped at it’s gnarled ends. The second cawed, and butted the other aside.

Dad always went on about the crows. He said they were coming in through the windows – screamed to shut all the windows once – and that they were in the kitchen rummaging through the pantry. Dad was convinced he found their black feathers left behind on the cutting board, in his pockets, underneath the bed covers.

Dad claimed they were flying circles above the bed, cawing. That they landed on his stomach, pecked at the sheets, his fingers, his face. He swatted them away, and they flew through the window with Moms jewelry in their beaks.

That’s when Mom said she was sorry Dad crumbled like a tree laying on the forest floor.

It was her fault this happened. She always said things like that.

And It was when Tom thought about holding a pillow over Dad’s face.

The breeze feels nice on the knob,” Jeb said. Why did he have to say such faggoty things all the time? Jeb reached for the rifle, but Tom slung it over his shoulder before Jeb could wrap his greasy fingers around it.

“You’re not allowed to touch this until I tell you how to use it,” Tom snapped.

“If I wanted too, I could take that gun out of your hands and beat you with it.” Dad hit Tom in the shoulder once with the rifle for scaring the deer away.

The path twisted along side a creek with a black rock bed and ferns dipping into the water. It bent left, leading to the glade Tom was searching for. As the ocean haze rolled down from the mountains, the sky darkened, and Tom shivered.

“There,” Tom pointed at a fallen maple tree. “Line up the cans along that tree.”

“You’ll shoot me before I’m even half-way there.”

“Fuck that. You’re actually stupid enough to accidentally shoot me,” Tom said.

“What the hell is your problem, man? You’ve been a bitch this entire trip.”

“That’s cause I have to put up with you.” Tom said.

Jeb shoved Tom, and Tom stumbled backwards. Before the crows, Dad shoved Tom whenever he didn’t listen.

“Just shut-up man, or I’ll break your jaw,” Jeb said. Those pair of crows swooped down, landing on the dead tree. Their caws were annoying as Dad’s hallucinations, Mom’s crying, and Jeb’s stupid comments. Tom couldn’t think while they continued their shrill. His heart beat against his rib cage.

“Now you give me the rifle. And you go put the cans on the tree.” Jeb said, but Tom stepped back, his finger touched the cold steel of the trigger. He wanted to pull the trigger more than anything. Out here, what was stopping him?

Jeb stepped towards Tom, right hand clenched into a fist, and left hand reaching out.

Tom closed his eyes. The rifle’s thunder scared the crows away. Tom listened to them scatter from the tree tops. There caws became distant, and soon Tom could only hear the wind in the trees and grass.

But he waited for wheezing, or groaning, or crying, or more bitching from Jeb. Nothing.

Tom opened his eyes. For once it was quiet.

This is an important question to answer since we are living in the beginning of a decade that is questioning the influence violence in video games has on our culture. To answer the question: no, Bioshock Infinite is not too violent. Based on Infinite’s heavy themes, I think it’s fair to claim it has the license to portray violence the way it does, or at least it should be granted liberties. Calling Infinite too violent is like calling Dead Space too gory. Or a Tarantino film too violent. It’s all part of the motif. It is problematic to simply contest video games because of their use of violence because it stimulates another war on mentality—another scape goat is created for Western culture’s growing number of crisis. Spend a night on Reddit and you’ll witness just how much Western culture is a constructed through dichotomies—it’s a war on drugs—it’s a war on terrorism—it’s (now) a war video games—they’re either willing to die for their Atheism or for their Theology, and the Agnostic have stayed silent to eat their pizza in the corner of the room. There’s no room for an in-betweener.

The Violent Precedent

I won’t spare the gory details when I talk about Dead Space. It’s a game obsessed with death, which is the most violent force in the universe. Aside from the void that is space, the necromorphs (re-animated corpses that make Romero’s speedy zombies seem like kittens next to cougars), and a plethora of creative death sequences, Dead Space provides players with an abundance of violent themes that makes Bioshock Infinite seem tame in comparison. The walls are made of flesh, necromorphs hunt down Issac through the vents and try to eviscerate him with shoulder-blades turned into butcher’s knives, and slithering intestines attempt to strangle Issac like an anaconda. If that’s not enough violence: Issac is cutting the limbs off of his enemies, leaving trails of blood and guts behind his steel-toed boots, and every character is plotting against Issac’s safety. I guess it could be said that Dead Space is simply exposing our human nature, which is survival first and a lack of care for other human beings.

Dead Space has certain liberties, considering the fact that it is of the Horror genre whereas Infinite is an action FPS, so why not take a look at Fallout 3, an FPS as well, which is a game that doesn’t shy away from violence. In Fallout 3 a player can blow the head clean off of a bandit’s shoulders with a well placed sniper rifle shot. Or, with a critical hit, a bandit explodes into pieces like a watermelon dropped onto the driveway from the roof of a suburban home. An innocent NPC stepped in your way? Easy: club him or her to death with a baseball bat or drop a live grenade into his or her pocket and watch blood and guts land in the dirt and dust. And, of course, if lunch was missed, you can always eat a baby. When given the opportunity in a sandbox game, we will, at the very least, will act out the most sinister exploitations of people. I guess it’s just human nature to watch the melancholy consume somebody else: a transcendent form of bullying, perhaps.

Honestly, viewing Bioshock Infinite within the same lens as Dead Space and Fallout 3, it’s apparent that calling Bioshock Infinite too violent is an overreaction. Sure, in Bioshock Infinite we can tear the heads clean off of Comstock’s zealots, and we can implode their skulls and yank out their innards, but such is nothing we haven’t experienced before. The cinematic sequences are even more exaggerated than the “gore” Bioshock Infinite has. There’s a mechanical bird tearing through a tower while hunting Booker and Elizabeth down, a civil war equipped with explosions, and, finally, climactic battles against zeppelins. I think that Bioshock Infinite’s cinematic direction is inspired by today’s action-packed Hollywood summers.

Violence Outside of Video Games

Remember in Kill Bill when she plucked the eyeball out of  her doppelganger? What about that moment in Jurassic Park when the playful Tyrannosaurus Rex flung  the bald-dude into the jungle? Wasn’t that scene in Saw when the guy literally saws off his foot to survive memorable? And isn’t it impossible to forget the explicit intimacy seen in the Human Centipede?

Let’s not limit this examination to movies because TV shows, especially in this decade, have pushed the boundaries of violent content. There is Dexter Morgan who accomplishes the impossible: legitimizes serial killing, and the show never spares the creative engineering that goes into taking out the trash. Walter White demonstrates the depths of the abyssal darkness one man will descend with the excuse it’s all for the family. He travels incredibly deep to feed his ego, so deep that he kills people, poisons children and corrupts the minds of the innocent, and even puts his family in danger. In the previous decade, there were a plethora of crime scene investigations shows, and spin-offs of their spin-offs. These shows consisted of plotless episodes that proved to be Internet-quality how-to-murder-someone-and-get-away with-it for anyone. Perfect for anyone working in an office who considered disposing of their obnoxiously loud chewer for a cubicle neighbour.

The point is, violent entertainment does not solely exists in video games, music, TV and etc. If anything, these forms of media serve as outlets and they remind us that we as human beings have a violent disposition: and isn’t it “safer” to cater to the darkness within through violent medias, rather than suppressing it, legislating it, or controlling it to the point it swells up and explodes. We must also consider the fact that violent entertainment has been in existence for thousands of years. Travel back in time, pre-renaissance, and you can watch the hanging of criminals along with the peasants.  Travel back in time and you can watch the witches being burned at the stake. Travel back in time and you can watch scenes from Django Unchained. Our dark passenger: we find entertainment in the melancholy of other human beings.

What is Violence?

Empty your thoughts, turning your mind into an abyss awaiting to be filled by your imagination, then think of the word violence. What comes to mind? A futuristic war set on the moon with marines taking cover in craters like they were in the trenches? A duel to the death as an audience in an arena cheers when they think the killing blow was finally made? An angry father at the dinner table raising a hand at his wife for failing to cook his steak medium rare and a confused child sitting opposite of mom, wholly unable to make sense of what is about to occur? Torture? The destruction of the other culture by taking the kids away in the night? Yelling at a grocery store cashier for forgetting to give you a five dollar bill because a cashier, like everyone else, is just a human? The connotations of the word violence are so broad that it is impossible in casual discussion to use it with precision. Ultimately, calling Bioshock Infinite too violent fails because what is it exactly we are referring to within the context of video games (let alone all entertainment mediums) when we use the word “violent”?

Our current discussion of violence in video games is not facilitated by the need to enquire video games as a production of western modes of thought, rather the discussion is reactionary. We are trying to understand video games’ purpose in our society, but are looking at the topic as a one way street, that is, how are video games affecting culture, when the real question should be how are video games and culture negotiating between each other to transform our culture. Perhaps pointing our finger at Bioshock Infinite and saying, “well, it’s way too violent” is a reactionary statement that is sparked by our culture’s  black and white vision. Violence co-exists with Peaceful as a binary; subtract one and you lose the other, thus violence fails to adequately describe Bioshock Infinite. We have to unfold the game’s themes and story to discover why it’s violent, only then can we describe with accuracy whether the violence in the game is “too much”.

Yet I think Bioshock Infinite, as a production of our culture, presents to use in plain sight the black and white attitude we have towards events in our life. There are a plethora of dichotomies in Bioshock Infinite. Religion and Atheism. Science and Religion. Fate and free will. Whites and the other. Most importantly, Bioshock Infinite invited the player to experience (of course, in a limited fashion) the violence that is a direct result of the clash of these opposites: and such violence exists in an uncountable number of forms.

There hasn’t been a game released that’s been more fitting for the decade than Bioshock Infinite. Perhaps Bioshock Infinite is the Magnus Opus of a medium that hasn’t been accepted by the literary and art communities for what it can potentially accomplish when it comes to stimulating the left side of the brain: whether video games fit into the category of art is a debate for another article. What matters is Bioshock Infinite confronts the conflicts our culture faces, that is, moral corruptions—institutions such as capitalism and religion, which are so big it is impossible to not fall within their shadow.

This is a game that deserves a second play through: and I urge that upon finishing a second experience, find the time for a third play through. Even though Bioshock Infinite is a linear experience, the city in the sky, Columbia, is so highly detailed that it is ignorant not to explore every dark corner.

Since this is a game that is using all the tools of a literary tool box, it’s a must to take the time to consider the conversations the inhabitants of Columbia are having as well as acquainting oneself with the unique culture of Columbia: because the culture of Columbia isn’t a simple projection of Western culture such as a science fiction game like Dues Ex: Human Revolution creates, rather it’s an accumulation of illusions that produce a Utopia (and perhaps the ultimate illusion Bioshock Infinite is bringing to our attention is the American Dream, that is, citizens dependent not only on the corporation for a means of living, but also a dependence on a state religion for a means of enlightenment, which, if considering the ultimate theme Bioshock Infinite is employing is “a means to an end”, leads me to believe the game’s narrative is trying to topple the entire notion of a utopia because achieving a utopia requires that a class of people is created who rely on a the crumbs of prosperity from an over-indulgent class of people will leave behind.

Bioshock Infinite takes the Master Narrative we are all too accustomed to, which is a man saving a damsel in distress from a tower she is locked away in, and instead of relying on this master narrative to drive the violent game-play in-between story-bites, the game actually critiques this master narrative. What opens up as a familiar story, “save the girl”, morphs into a story about Dewitt rectifying the past by saving the future. It’s a story about two people hopping from one time line to another. It’s about two people who rely on the other’s strengths to overcome culture.

Perhaps Elizabeth is the game’s protagonist. Dewitt may be the embodiment of the player and a man with broken memories, but it is Elizabeth who has to overcome a pre-chosen destiny. Yes: Dewitt is tasked with saving Elizabeth, yet it is Elizabeth who chooses to partake in Dewitt’s adventure. This is where Bioshock Infinite shines most brightly: it quickly deconstructs the master narrative, “save the girl”—rather than the story end with the girl saved, and Dewitt reunited with his lost daughter and his own mistakes rectified, Bioshock Infinite finishes with Elizabeth retaining her agency from beginning to finish. The game is quick to point out that Elizabeth is able to take care of herself, so Dewitt need not worry about “protecting her”. And it’s Elizabeth who ends the story: the last image Dewitt (and his player counterpart) will witness in a twisted ending.

Another particularity interesting note is the relationship between Dewitt and Elizabeth never verges on romantics or sentiments. It’s unique in that Elizabeth and Dewitt have to rely on each other’s strengths to overcome their weaknesses: Dewitt would not be able to succeed in his mission of erasing his “moral” debt without Elizabeth, and Elizabeth would not be able to realize her own power. Yet I don’t believe that their relationship elevates itself to a heart-wrenching level that Clementine’s and Lee’s relationship does by the end of The Walking Dead series by Telltale

As beautiful as Bioshock Infinite’s narrative is, it wouldn’t be possible without an equally strong art direction. It begins with statues of Comstock and other holy people towering over Dewitt in a dimly lit monastery. Once outside, Dewitt is blinded by a cloudless sky and quaint prayers by Comstock devotees. In the distance a golden angel, the size of a tower, overlooks the floating city of Columbia. In these early hours of game-play, the colour palate consists of summer colours; however, there are dark alleys, shops that inside look like the abyssal dark. This is a representation of the dark roots that Columbia grows from. As the game progresses to a violent civil war, the sky turns to crimson reds and bloody oranges. Columbia ceases to be embodied as warm, but something sinister and cold as the colours shift to chilling blues and lonely purples. It’s as if Columbia’s roots are exposed, strewn about like dying seaweed on a beach.

Where Bioshock Infinite stumbles is its exaggerated representation of violence because it does not drive the narrative any further than the art direction. It’s as if the game-play, shoot and kill and spill blood on the brick-roads, serves only to fulfil an immature audience’s need for cinematic action and violence: Bioshock Infinite is full of adrenaline pumping moments, which, I won’t deny, are incredibly entertaining to part take in (and it is as if I am the star of the ultimate action adventure of my childhood), but the question must be raised if they go too far. Dewitt can use his skyhook to tear the heads off of enemies, snap their necks, implode their skulls, and let’s not forget the plasmid’s that grant him the ability to burn enemies to death or send them flying from Columbia to meet the Earth below far first. If anything, the action and violence seems to only have a place in Bioshock Infinite as a method to bring the player to plot points. Perhaps Bioshock Infinite would have remained the same great experience, minus the violence, if it had been an adventure game akin to The Walking Dead. Maybe Bioshock Infinite is attempting to mock today’s sensitivity to violence, despite recent events and despite a growing animosity towards violence in video games. This entire act of questioning the game’s presentation of violence could be exactly what the developers had planned for their audience.

Final verdict: Bioshock Infinite isn’t a game to miss because I think it connects with our culture’s current nervous disorder. Looking for another glossy shooter, then checkout Bioshock Infinite (yet if that is all you’re looking for, then it is probably best to wait for a Steam summer sale). Looking for a memorable ending that will have you seeking answers in the wikis, check out Bioshock Infinite. I think it will be a game, much like Half Life and the first Bioshock, that will be discussed years from now.

I went ahead with the deal, took down the ad, and set up my PayPal account. I requested the money from her over PayPal and she said that she’d give me $970 instead of the $800 I’d asked for, to cover the shipping costs to Nigeria. This was Friday. Shannon started becoming extremely demanding about having the camera shipped out that day, so I rushed to the post office, where I learned that Canada Post would not mail batteries internationally. Would Shannon still want a camera with no battery, I asked? She said yes, just mail it, mail it today. Then I opened up the detachable flash to remove the batteries and found that they had exploded and oxidized within the device. I had to go home and dig them out of the flash. Predictably, the flash was ruined. I told Shannon how sorry I was, and that I’d give her some of the money back from our transaction because I didn’t want her to pay for a product that she wasn’t receiving. She said no, don’t worry about that, I don’t need the money back, just mail the camera today. But I was done. I told her I’d mail it on Saturday. She was disappointed about this but agreed.

The next day, I woke up early and went to the post office to box and mail the camera. PayPal sent me emails telling me that I would receive my payment once the shipping number was verified within their system. This seemed reasonable, so when I paid for the $115 shipping costs and got the shipping number, I emailed it to PayPal. PayPal told me that the payment would be processed within 24 hours. I accepted this and went on with my day.

On Sunday I checked my email: PayPal told me that, because of the “holiday weekend”, the money would be transferred into my account on Monday. That is when the suspicion finally took over. What holiday were they talking about? So I called PayPal. The customer service agent told me that I had no payments coming. PayPal does not hold payments for any reason: once they are made, they are transferred into your account immediately. I had been the victim of fraud, he said, and I should call the post office and try and get my camera back right away. The emails I was getting from “PayPal” about my impending payment? Obviously, they were fake.

I hung up and phoned the post office. They hadn’t shipped my camera yet. I nearly fell on the ground with relief, and told them that they should not, under any circumstances, mail that package. They agreed, and I ran down to their office to claim my camera. Canada Post told me that they could not release the camera to me unless I spoke to customer service. So I called the number, only to find that they would not be able to help me until Monday. Whatever, I thought, at least the camera is safe.

On Monday I called customer service. I told them about the fraud situation, and they told me that they would not be able to stop the shipment of my camera unless I filed a police report. I was incredulous: this camera was MY property! So that day, I marched down to the police station and told the officers about my problem. They were also shocked that Canada Post was withholding my property from me. One of the officers said, half-jokingly, that he should drive me down to that post office and demand they surrender the camera to me. I wish he had. They generated a report number for me and I called it in to Canada Post. They told me that the camera was mine again and that I should be able to pick it up in a couple of days. And finally, three days later, the camera was in my hands again. The kicker? Canada Post was sorry, they said, but they could not refund my $115 shipping fee. That’s the price I paid for the lesson I learned.

Why was I fooled so easily? I am, by nature, an incredibly obstinate person. When I make a decision, I stick to it, no matter how stupid I later realize it was. I hate being told not to do things. So when my mother, my best friends and my boyfriend told me that it was a bad idea to ship this camera, I yelled at them that I was an adult and perfectly capable of making my own decisions. I’m 24 years old, I said, stop doubting me. I completely ignored my own instincts and told myself that Shannon was a nice lady. This was going to be fine.

I trust people. I haven’t had a reason not to – obviously, I do now. I told myself that Shannon was being honest, despite her demands to ship the camera as fast as possible and her indifference to being shorted both a camera battery and a detachable flash I told her I would sell to her. I wanted her to be honest, to prove to myself that transactions like this can be safe. Most of all, I wanted it to work it because I was dealing with Nigerians. I had heard of all the scam artists out of Nigeria, and I was told from the agents at PayPal that situations like this happen almost every day. I wasn’t the only one who’d been fooled into sending expensive items to Nigeria. I wanted the deal to work because of the bad reputation Nigeria had. I am travelling to Africa next month, to a country not very far from Nigeria. I needed this reassurance that I was going to be safe. Of course I don’t believe that anything horrible is going to happen to be in Africa, but I need to be aware of the risks involved. This experience helped me to do that. I was angry, but I also felt sad. What state must their economy be in for people to have to resort to this kind of fraud?

I consider myself to be a fairly smart, competent person. I thought I was okay with the internet, with technology. I thought that there were good and honest people doing business on the internet, and that I would prove to everyone that it was possible to buy and sell online. A week or so later, I put the camera back on Kijiji for sale. The first and only text message I received from a potential buyer? Someone who was “out of town” on business, who wanted me to ship the camera to their “cousin” in West Africa, because it was his birthday. The scamming continues.

By Cait Belair

Recently I started on a Chloë Sevigny binge and stumbled upon a miniseries she did, titled, “Hit & Miss”. The description of a show about a transgender assassin was enough to send me flying toward a legally purchased* copy of the show. Its creator, Paul Abbot, is the writer and producer of “Shameless” starring Carey Mulligan and Michael Fassbender, a movie which I enjoyed, which made me double pumped for this miniseries. I don’t want to get into a summary of the show (although yeah there will probably be some amount of spoilers below) but Mia finds out she fathered a son with a woman who recently died (who she was in a relationship with prior to transitioning) and is given custody to him as well as her other children via the woman’s will. So here we’re sending a very lonesome (as you can tell from her apartment) bad ass assassin to go and try to live with a bunch of kids as well as attempt to take care of them. Within the first few minutes we see a full frontal shot of Sevigny’s nude altered body. It’s great. We’re in. Let’s get going.

Based on the description of the show, we know we’re in for some violence. She’s an assassin and we get to see her kill a number of people, as well as engage the world in a more violent way. She teaches her son how to fight, and he ends up hitting a number of people throughout the show and I won’t give away so much as to ruin the ending, but it’s pretty wild to see the position he is placed in and takes himself. She takes the two boys (one biological the other not) out to get fish n chips and ends up leaving them in the car while she does a job. Is that cool? Is that terrible? Who knows. This violence permeates Mia’s character to such an extent that it is called out as opposing her identity, when Ben (her “boyfriend”), upon Mia allowing her son to beat a guy, calls her “un-lady like,” she tells him quite appropriately to “fuck off”. This comes down to there being no right or wrong way to be a woman. She seems to thrive in this violence, and as we see in the final episode, she’s not the only one dishing out this high level of violence. The scenes are powerful and devastating and Mia is definitely no pacifist. But I don’t think any level of “right” and “wrong” needs to be taken into account.

Throughout the show, Mia is shown interacting with mirrors constantly. And why not? Now she looks the way she has arguably always wanted to, with her dark hair enviably long and thick, her chest working wonders, and her stubble free face, of course she probably wants to see herself constantly as she finally looks the way she has seen herself. You know when you get a haircut and feel the really short hairs on the back of your neck all the time because damn it feels so nice? Imagine that to the extreme for Mia. She has nearly entire conversations sitting in front of a mirror, brushing her hair etc while she talks to someone, even consoles someone, through speaking into the mirror. Even, in a very intimate moment between her and her (boring (can I say that?)) “boyfriend” where Sevigny’s gruff accent demands, “fuck me,” she is looking into a mirror drinking her wine. I might be safe to think that this is her first relationship (what does that mean) with a man as a woman, and she watches herself and how she looks when he kisses her neck, and how she moans through the mirror, as he does what he is told.

However, the mirror acts as both a friend and a foe. The mirror also splits how she sees herself, as she hits herself and is so disassociated with parts of her body, it hurts to watch. Spoiler alert for this part, maybe. When her brother violently hacks off her hair and demands she repeat the phrase, “I’m a real boy” as we saw her do to herself in the beginning of the series showing that it’s not the first instance, she retreats into her apartment where she surrounds herself with mirrors and has a heartbreaking breakdown, and justifiably so. The mirror at once both allows her to appreciate how she looks in comparison to how she feels, as well as forces her to struggle with how she looks in comparison to how she feels. It’s rough to watch, and Sevigny’s performance is stunning.

On the note of Sevigny’s brilliant performance, was she right for the part? Could the show have been amped up to a whole new level by casting a transgender actor to the part? I wonder if perhaps the show is too tragic and too devastating for a person who has dealt with these issues, to have to play. So much of the show deals with Mia’s struggles with herself and her relationships with others, and while I do not think that it is a justified reason to not cast a trans actor, perhaps an analysis of the ethics behind such a role might need to be considered beforehand? If anyone reading this wants to call me out on this being bullshit I would love to hear it as I’m unsure of how to handle this issue.

Some of the problems which the show doesn’t tackle, is the fixation with “completed transitions” as in it makes mention to Mia’s “pre-op” condition. Of course this situates her as possibly not a “real woman” because of what, genitalia? This creates a sense of identity that is so contingent on what’s down there as opposed to who a person is. I do want to note that none of the characters in the show actually ask Mia whether she is pre or post, and that it is actually Mia who states this, perhaps not to discredit or reduce her own identity as not “complete” (which she does a pretty good job at combating, I think), but to place her in a trajectory where she sees herself undergoing this surgery. Although, I still think that the writer had her categorize herself in such a way for the audience rather than the actual character, and fuck the audience in that case. It is never appropriate to ask someone that question and never should someone be in a position where they feel they need to reveal any sort of genital identity (does it sound ridiculous? it is). Someone can be transgender without any amount of plans for body modification and they’re as legitimate bodies as any others. I do not at all want to discredit anyone who wishes to undergo surgery to alter their body in the ways that they fucking choose to, but to create an identity around what someone’s genitals “reveal” using the categories of pre and post-op is monstrously problematic.

It’s an engaging series full of powerful performances that highlights many of the problems that society creates against people who choose to transition as well as people who don’t fit into a strict gender binary. The show might miss some opportunities to create a stronger critique, but it’s a moving series and worth a legal purchase*.

By Syd Peacock

If not intimidated by the image on the other side, speak aloud in a room. Preferably a room void of objects. A white room, like one where the insane are stored like zoo animals, is best. Stand in the middle and speak the words as they are written like its a son. Comfortable still? Scream those words until the throat scratches, till it aches, and maybe go as far until the throat bleeds.

If still not intimidated, record yourself. Act out those words like on a stage, facing an audience. Twist, contort and flex the voice behind the words to inflect the emotion, feeling, tone inside the words. Play it back, with a head phones– or if bold, play the recording in the white room mentioned earlier. Keep the eyes closed as the words tumble down the ear canal, sinking into the ear wax like travelers getting stuck in quicksand. Only some will reach the drum of the ear. Let them beat on it for awhile, until you’re uncomfortable.

If this fails to move you, stand on the roof a building, preferably your house, but (again), if you’re feeling bold stand on a strangers roof. Shout out the words. Feel your cheeks rumble as the words bounce from teethe, tongue, lip, gum, roof as they all try to escape at once like bees trapped in a kid’s glass jar. If you can’t feel that shout louder, faster, with emphasis, with vigor, and a bit of pain. Those words will bounce off the street, between houses, into strangers’ ears. Some will be trapped underneath vans, mini-vans and rusty cars. Some will compete with birds songs, and some will penetrate glass, intruding the homes of strangers. Most importantly, words will bounce back to you, and hopefully this scares you.

If this doesn’t make your stomach twist like a yoga instructor, then stand at a busy intersection. Next to the lights, preferably, but standing in the middle, interfering traffic, is acceptable. This trick has two methods. The frost requires a plethora of card board signs with your words scribed in black ink. Method two requires a bullhorn, if you’re old fashioned, or a megaphone. Talk loudly, emphasizing the first letter of each word, as well as the last. Keep people’s attention with the words. Make sure they are permanently fixed onto strangers’ retinas if using signs, glued to the drums of their ears if using the megaphone/bullhorn. Most importantly, you better have felt a twinge of fear.

If you’re fearless by the end of these exercises, a writer’s circles will be a cheesecake walk.

Art by Tracy Luu
Prose by Anonymous?

These brothers are the gunfire Mario Bros. as if they were imagined to be real. Instead of Koopas and Goombas it’s bull-dogs (foaming at the mouth and with massive haunches) and do-do brained mafia men. The classic stomp enemies on the head until their brain is leaking from their nose and ears remains, but The Other Brothers, brought to us by 3D Attack, has a bonus touch of creativity. It takes the iPhone platformer a step further: huge levels.

I’m Frustrated

It’s as if the game is teasing me: here is this stunning environment—explore worthy—and every time I tap the screen with my left thumb to control the other brother the d-pad moves! I tap again! It moves! Yes—it is impossible to have complete control of the other brother, and continuously I’m encountering untimely demises. I fail to stomp on a bull dog’s head and am then torn apart, flesh strewn about like stuffing from a chew toy. I fall into a pit of bubbling green acid so a passing gangster can scoff at my hand that is sticking out of the bath in a pose of agony. Or I am slapped around by a wide-shouldered thug. All because the d-pad moves. And not only am I presented with too-soon deaths, no-no, I am unable to fully explore the juicy levels.

In part because I am too frustrated to be patient with the spastic controls. Don’t present to me a beautiful setting if you don’t want me to be fully immersed in it, that is, to explore every nook and cranny. I find the finish line in each level just so that I can be done with the game, and if I were a developer that would be the last thing I’d want to hear from a gamer.

The fix to the controls is obvious and easy, and that’s what is so painful about the experience. As soon as I ha a hard time maneuvering through the levels, I opened up the Settings Screen to find a solution: but woe is me, the only options I have is audio controls. How fascist.

The Other Brothers Could be the BEST iPhone Platformer

Pretending the controls are perfect, The Other Brothers is probably the best platformer on the iPhone right now, and that’s because the developers stayed away from generic gameplay that is often found in platformers. In addition, the level of detail put into the game’s levels is far beyond what I’ve seen on the iPhone before.

Every new level offers a different challenge and variation of a non-linear progression. That’s right: this isn’t a race to the right side of the map. And the maps are big enough that it’s possible to become last seeking out pigeons an oil barrels for extra points.

Points and pigeons are important for success because The Other Brothers isn’t just about fighting your way through thugs to find the finish line, it’s about earning three stars. And if you’re die-hard enough, you’ll become comfortable with the obnoxious controls to find all the barrels and pigeons for those three stars.

Guess What?

Finally I have downloaded a game for iPhone that doesn’t have an in app currency. It’s refreshing. Breath mint refreshing. Open windows after a rainstorm refreshing. This crazy trend of in-app purchases has become trite and a turn off for many gamers because who wants to fork over another ten (plus) dollars for access to the needed components to play the game effectively…and indeed a flashing/pulsating/blinking/plinking/shaking button that says PRESS TO BUY CURRENCY is one of the most obnoxious things scene in games, especially when it is placed strategically in a spot your eyes can’t avoid. What’s worse is the impulsive buyers like me are easily trapped into spending more money then they planned too.

Closing Comments:

This is what I’m thinking while struggling to play The Other Brothers:

You play platformers on your iPhone? I too live dangerously.

3D Attack! If you’re reading this, please take into consideration this advice: implement into the options the choice of fixing the d-pad on the screen! It would make this game an A+! An 11 out of 10! For now, it’s good. Very good, and I do suggest that those who have a unique passion for the iPhone platformer to download The Other Brothers because it’s a step ahead of the competition.

Pop-tarts Vs Waffles

Which will it be? In Nyan Cat: Lost in Space, the objective is simple: collect as many yummy treats as possible while avoiding the waffle cat and aliens. As the Nyan Cat treks through space, the cat (I’d like tp believe that this cat is without a gender) will come across a plethora of upgrades such as reefers, psychedelics and the odd super-hero cake.

The more treats Nyan cat indulges in, which I am sure fuel the rainbow and keep the sweetness of the pop-takes innards at a respectable level, the higher the score climbs. Of course, crashing into the waffle cat results in treats bursting out from the cat like piñata treasures. Death only comes when the Nyan cat fails to make a jump from one cake-platform to the next, ultimately falling through the atmosphere of the Earth and landing on some child’s plate as a perfectly toasted pop-tart. Really, unless you grow tired of the Nyan theme song (why would that happen?), then you should be able to play Nyan Cat: Lost in Space forever.

Candies in Space

Look, Nyan Cat is no game of the year. It’s simple. Cute. That’s it. But I love the developers for sticking with this game and providing updates on a regular basis. I download Nyan Cat: Lost in Space a little over a year ago and there has been at least a dozen updates tweaking the game, improving features and adding some additional treats. It compels me to play again and again, and not just for the song that I adore so much. In fact, it’s one of the few games I haven’t deleted off my phone in over a year because I know I will play it again.

Closing Comments

Maybe I play this game less for the beautiful theme song and more for appreciating the effort developers put into this game. All developers could learn a little something from Nyan Cat: most importantly, stick with your game. I’ve downloaded quite a few titles that were good, yes, but the developer seemed to jump ship once it was released to work on new games. I wonder how a developer can inspire a growing audience of they abandon their game. I guess I see it in this way: once a game is no longer cared for by the developer, then the players also lose their spirit for the game.

Outer space is such a lonely place. Cruising through this great void, passing asteroids and temperamental gas giants, I miss my wife, I miss the human race. And I think it’s going to be a long-long time until I find the muse again.

I’d like to imagine that this is a spaceship containing the sole survivors of the human race after Independence Day aliens apocalypsed the Earth. When playing this game in these terms, I find it much more enjoyable. I am not compelled to crash the clown-coloured spaceship into a gas giant or an asteroid or to suicide dive into an alien’s laser beam (to save the human race, of course). In these terms, Rocket Run becomes an enjoyable game and my iPhone is subdued by a death grip as I narrowly escape the grazing of an asteroid that would turn my voyager into space-waste.

There are no firesplosions in space

So if I crash into an asteroid, my ship’s explosion should just be it’s itty-bitty pieces flying in every direction. But I get it: production value and all.

I think what Rocket Run’s biggest set back may be is the mixing of different art styles. The background music, although very cool and great to listen to, seems like it belongs in a game with a space hero on a noble mission. Think Mass Effect. The space ship is colourful, cartoony even, this doesn’t mesh with the music well. And the space objects is just too realistic looking for the spaceship as well. Despite the fact that the game looks good—yes, this is a very nice looking game on iOS—it just doesn’t look well put together.

Another issue Rocket Run is suffering from is bugs and general slowness. Even a sloth playing this game would ask for a faster pace. It takes an unusual amount of time for the assets to load. When the Game Centre is loading, it is impossible to manoeuvre the spaceship. Any time I try to tweet my score or post it on Facebook, the game crashes. Little things like these add up for an unenjoyable experience, and remember most times when people are playing iPhone games, they are squeezing this time in-between busy schedules.

Yet Such Fantastic Controls

Rocket Run has the best controls on any iOS title I’ve played. It’s the game’s saving grace. I love it. So many games have controls that has needless learning curves, or over complicated schemes that burden the game. Sometimes they are too sensitive. Other times they are unresponsive. Rocket Run found the perfect sensitivity, seriously, because you can turn the ship on a dime, making incredibly bold last-minute changes in direction.

What went wrong?

After thinking about it, what Rock Run’s flaw is that it lacks variety. The core mechanics and game-play is arguably flawless, yes, but it’s missing a challenge. What Rock Run deserves is new enemy ships that try to destroy you: perhaps even boss ships. It needs asteroids that are moving in peculiar patterns, and maybe space junk and debris that hinders movement and manoeuvrability. As the spaceship progresses through space, it does encounter a growing challenge, it’s just that challenge isn’t grand enough.

Closing Comments:

Maybe I have a soft spot for Rock Run. But I honestly believe with a few updates, it can be a successful game. If you’re reading this developers, my advice is to first change the sprite to something that fits the rest of the game’s aesthetics. And maybe add different ship skins. Hey, what if people purchase the in-app currency they receive a bonus skin? Next, I think you should add new threats to amp up the game’s challenge. If you’ve spent eighteen months on this game, take another five to create improvements and upgrades. I think it’s worth it because Rock Run’s core game-play is near flawless and the controls are perfect.

And we boast that we’re wiping our asses with cash–of course not with those polymer bills, the old fives and tens–because we have excess amounts. So following logical thought we cut funding to education since education breeds intelligent people who can use rhetoric to denounce the corporate agenda that has Alberta in a death-grip. Yes. That’s my theory: a conspiracy theory that the corporate machine, in this case the mono-theological oil industry, wants to continue to rake in the cash inside Alberta, until there’s nothing left and Alberta becomes a shell that cased its former glory, and the only road block to realizing such a fate is thinkers. The idea then is to cut funding to education and tell the post-secondary stronghold that they must streamline their programs: be more like the trades. Spawn a workforce. Not thinkers. Thinkers aren’t good for business.

This is the corporate philosophy: reduce the investment in the back-bone of the company. It’s something I experience everyday by working as a drone for a corporate overlord. People are  bodies that occupy space, thus if they become unruly or cost too much money, the company can effectively replace them because they’re only there to occupy space. So if we’re relate Alberta attitudes with the Corporation’s the outcomes are bone-grinding, tendon-pulling and, worst of all, a burnt roof of the mouth as if the pizza, hot out of the oven, was taken a bite out of before it had a chance to cool off. Students  become means to making money, and if that student doesn’t want to participate in the Corporate Agenda, well, surely another student will. School is so accessible these days because of student loans that there will always be another student waiting.

Of course, there will always be a student in line, ready and willing to replace a student who thinks. I blame this frightening phenomenon on the equally corrupt public school setting and parents. There’s a strong belief in this exaggerated capitalist ideology that the only route to happiness is more money then one can wipe their ass with. I heard it all through high school: go to post-secondary, or you’ll amount to nothing: go to the trades, so you can have lots of money. What society seems to forget is there will always be people who need to fill the roles of janitors, burger flippers, and waitresses and waiters. Perhaps what irks me most is this trite question: “What do you plan on being after school?” Never have I been asked by someone (outside of school), “what are you learning?”, “why do you like English?”, “What are you reading in English?”, “what made you decide to take English”.

Just as the young workforce takes no pride in their jobs—jobs like cashiers at Super Store–they aren’t taking pride in their post-secondary education. There seems to be this lack of awareness of the knowledge, work, and dedication that came before: a lack of immersion with present knowledge and an avoidance of conversation with knowledge: a lack of sight of future knowledge, that is, lazily avoiding paving the way for future knowledge seekers to interact with us  as we interact with those previous to us. Instead of an academic exercise being about the experience or the enlightenment it is reduced to the letter grade. An a letter grade is something we wield to differentiate ourselves from our peers, to claim we are better, to justify our existence. Students should be taking pride in the knowledge earned, the words spoken, the conversation that takes place—not the letter grade. It has become easy for the Alberta
government to cut education because no one, no one who thinks they are guaranteed a high-wage job upon graduating, gives a shit about the beneficial effects of education on society. This is the root problem of capitalism, really. It prizes the individual to such an extent: to such an extent that we’re all spoiled brats, and any pride or thought for community is forfeited.

Really, a post secondary education shouldn’t be idealized as a factory that produces a work force. It should be an institution that encourages a collective knowledge and fosters a generation of people who can think critically, analyze, solve problems, and most importantly question the foundations of our society. I don’t see this happening. I see students waiting in line like a modern man for their ticket, a lucky ticket. Yes. We’re all in this line, eager, and only staring at the back of the head of the person ahead.

* Thanks to Student Empowerment Project for letting me borrow this above image. Here’s their info:

Twitter: @SEmpowerProject

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/TheStudentEmpowermentProject