388. Fans, Geeks, and Waifus: A Momentary Study

Posted on September 25, 2015 by Adam Stück

I once had a friend who had a crush on Legolas from The Lord of the Rings. This puzzled me greatly.

Granted, Legolas isn’t ugly. He has two eyes, which is generally the preferred number of eyes. That’s a good start. Legolas also has a nose, all his teeth, and a full head of hair. (At any rate, in the movies, he wears a nice wig.) So far: so good. His skin is healthy—no leprosy there—and he isn’t painfully thin or morbidly obese. Legolas also seems to have “the smolder,” a trait considered desirable by females of the species… I think.

Look, I’m no expert on what ladies find attractive in gentlemen. I’ve simply been told Legolas is a smokin’ hot stud or some such, and I’m not sure I’m qualified to argue.

Exhibit A: Legolas the (apparently) sexy elf.

All of this, however, doesn’t explain the adoration my friend (whom I’ll call Socrates) lavished upon this imaginary elf. She thought Legolas was the sexiest thing since Hugh Jackman’s abs in the X-Men movies, and I thought Socrates was crazy.

Nah, my crush was on Daphne from the old Scooby-Doo cartoon.

Of course, that was back when I was in kindergarten: a faraway time when I was tiny and blond, barely knew the alphabet, and didn’t drink coffee.

On the right, Exhibit B: Adam Stück in kindergarten, roughly nine years B.S. (Before Sideburns).

By the time I reached high school and met Socrates, my secret crush on Daphne was a thing of the distant past. As the Apostle Paul wrote, doubtless referring to childhood crushes on fictional characters, “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me.”

By high school, I had put childish ways behind me, and Daphne from Scooby-Doo with them. No, I was enamored of Anne Shirley from Anne of Green Gables.

My point here is that fictional characters can be attractive, and real-life people can be attracted to them. This is a common enough phenomenon. In geek culture, however, it is sometimes embraced wholeheartedly… even to a point that is frankly weird.

Let’s talk about waifus.

Exhibit C: The anime-obsessed President of the United States voices his support for waifus.

A waifu is a fictional character to whom a person is attracted, to the point of considering that character a significant other.

The word waifu comes from an exaggerated Japanese pronunciation of the English word wife. (Thanks to anime and video games, a lot of weird geek culture originates in Japan.) A waifu doesn’t have to be female, by the way; the term can be used for characters of either sex.

By calling a character his waifu, a geek wryly acknowledges his crush on that character. It’s basically a form of shipping in which a real person ships a fictional character with himself.

Is it weird? Yes. Do I support waifus? Nah. Do they worry me? Not really. I’m pretty certain the waifu phenomenon is the sort of harmless, silly nonsense the Internet does best. At any rate, I hope it’s no deeper or darker than that!

Bored Games

Posted on September 23, 2015 by Adam Stück

The GaMERCaT is an adorably funny video game-inspired webcomic by Samantha Whitten.

I don’t like board games.

Mind you, I have nothing against them. Many people love Monopoly, Clue, Settlers of Catan, and, um, whatever else is popular these days. Board games bring people together in fun, laughter, and friendly competition. To everyone who enjoys board games, I have this to say: Good for you.

I just don’t like ’em.

To be honest, I’m not entirely sure why I detest board games. I played my fair share as a kid, and enjoyed them. Somewhere down the line, I guess, I ran out of patience. Starting a board game demands an implicit commitment to finish it, and I don’t want to become stuck in a long session of Monopoly or Settlers of Catan.

Board games encourage fun and fellowship, sure, but so do many video games. I’ll take a few rounds of Mario Kart or Super Smash Bros. over a board game. There is, however, one series I’ll always avoid: Mario Party titles. These are basically board games in video game form, trapping players in tedious sessions of rolling digital dice and moving around a virtual game board. Meh.

Board games, bored gamers, am I right?

…I’ll show myself out.

387. I’ll Be There

Posted on September 21, 2015 by Adam Stück

Around nine years ago, a classmate of mine died in a tragic accident. Nearly everyone at my school was devastated—but not I. My reactions were pity for those grieving, and guilt for not sharing their grief. I had known the victim, but we had never been close. I wasn’t deeply affected by his death, which led me to a painful question: How can I respond to those who are?

I am grieving for my friend Nick, who recently passed away. My grief has taken the form of dull, aching resignation. Nick is gone. That is all. I cried once—the first time I had really wept in years—and have not shed a tear since. Since that early storm of emotion, my reaction to losing a dear friend has been calm acceptance.

A memorial service was held yesterday for Nick. I couldn’t go. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to make it, yet part of me is glad I wasn’t there. It would have been so hard to sit, mute and helpless, as Nick’s friends and family wept around me. How could I have borne their grief? I hardly know what to do with my own.

I’m at a loss to know what to do when others are in pain. I want to help, but how? I struggle to respond to people whose feelings or problems I don’t understand. However much I care, I’m about as soft and comforting as a rhinoceros.

Around nine years ago, when my classmate passed away, I had a brief conversation with another student in the hallway between classes. I’ll call him Socrates. He was a colossal young man with a soft, deep voice. I’ve forgotten most of our exact words, but I remember the gist of our exchange.

“Are you doing okay?” I ventured, alluding to the death of our classmate.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m all right,” I said, looking resolutely at the floor as we walked to our next class. “I didn’t really know him, so I’m not, like, devastated. But I don’t know what to say to those who are.” I finished and glanced over at Socrates.

He shrugged his massive shoulders and mumbled the following words, which I remember perfectly: “Sometimes you don’t have to say anything, y’know? Just being there is enough.”

I don’t have any profound words of peace or comfort today. I doubt I ever shall. To my friends who are grieving—and to my friends who will grieve at some other time for some other tragedy—I can only say this: I’ll be there.

I shan’t have the right words. I may not be able to weep with you. I certainly shan’t be able to fix whatever is wrong.

What I can do is to be there for you, and I’ll try my best to be.

My friends, I can always be reached by Facebook or email. If you visit, I will make you a cup of tea. I will listen to you. I will pray for you. (I may already be praying for you.) If I can help in some other way, let me know. I’ll be there.

386. Marching Home

Posted on September 11, 2015 by Adam Stück

TMTF will be taking a one-week break. The blog shall return on September 21.

A dear friend of mine recently passed away. I’ve mentioned him before on this blog, calling him Socrates, but today I’m going to call him Nick. His friends and family are devastated by his death, and I’m dealing with it in exactly the same way I deal with a lot of things—by writing about it.

I mentioned Nick in TMTF’s very first post; he was the friend who pretended to rip out and eat my still-beating heart every time we worked together. Nick and I met a few years before I started this blog. I was on a bus to Chicago when Nick, who was sitting in the seat behind mine, got my attention and said, “Okay, this is kind of a random question, but have you heard of a show called Avatar: The Last Airbender?”

Nick and I were friends from that day onward.

I was starting my first semester at Bethel College in Indiana, and had just begun the nightmarish chapter I call my Thursday Afternoon of the Soul. It was about a year and a half of deep depression. That was a dark time, but there were flickers of light, and some of the brightest were the nights I spent watching Avatar: The Last Airbender with Nick and another dear friend, whom I’ll call Socrates. (I have to call someone Socrates.)

Although Nick and I had seen the show, Socrates had not. Nick and I took it upon ourselves to introduce Socrates to the epic adventure and captivating world of Avatar: The Last Airbender. (Seriously. If you haven’t already seen the show, you should. It’s a good one.) Starting at the beginning of our freshman year and ending on its final day, we watched the entire series together, averaging a couple of episodes every week.

It may sound silly or trivial, but those nights were gulps of sweet, fresh air in a year spent drowning in depression, anxiety, and loneliness. My best memories of that year are of those nights, which I called Avatar Evenings. Between episodes of the show, we munched junk food, discussed life, and laughed.

Nick, Socrates, and I hardly knew each other when we began watching the show. When we finished it, we were good friends.

Nick, here pictured choking Socrates. Good times.

Life went on. Our friendship endured through our college years. Nick, Socrates, and I were housemates for nearly as long as we attended college. We watched a couple of Pixar movies in theaters, and suffered through M. Night Shyamalan’s wretched film adaptation of Avatar: The Last Airbender. (It was really bad; we left the theater laughing at its awfulness.) It was only in our final year that we began to drift apart.

I sporadically kept in touch with Nick. In fact, he suggested the book I’m currently reading; I won’t be able to pick it up again without thinking of him. We remained fans of Avatar: The Last Airbender. Our final conversation a few weeks ago was a short series of Facebook messages about the show’s sequel series.

Earlier this week, the news reached me that a health complication had taken Nick’s life.

Nick suffered from depression and existential anxiety, and in later life, from medical problems. Through all of it, he never gave up. He was honest, creative, and compassionate. I’m glad we were friends.

At the moment, I find myself even more thankful than usual for the dear friends God has given me. For all of my friends who are reading this, I have this to say: Thank you for being my friend. I wish I had told Nick how much I loved, admired, and appreciated him. I wish it were easier for me to say how much I love, admire, and appreciate every one of you.

On a less sentimental note, I will be taking a one-week break from this blog. My transition toward becoming a CNA at work has been stressful and a bit rough. I could use a little extra time to catch up with other things. Finally, after the tragic news about Nick, I’m not sure I have the heart right now for this blog’s usual geeky nonsense. TMTF shall return on September 21. There will be no posts until then.

I conclude with a song. No, really. It’s an odd, geeky way to say goodbye to a friend, but I think Nick would have approved.

There was a scene in Avatar: The Last Airbender that Nick and I loved, and discussed at length. It’s my favorite moment in the series. I’m not sure I shall ever be able to watch it again without remembering Nick and Socrates and our Avatar Evenings.

In this scene, a wise old man named Iroh bustles around town gathering items for a picnic. Everywhere he goes, he helps someone. When he sees a flower wilting, Iroh gives its owner advice on how to make it bloom. When a thug tries to rob him, Iroh disarms the man, makes him tea, and eventually convinces him to find a legitimate job.

And when Iroh passes a crying child, he calms the little one with a lullaby.

At the end of the day, Iroh sets up his picnic… as a memorial for his son, who died long before. “Happy birthday, my son,” says Iroh tearfully. “If only I could have helped you.”

Then Iroh sings that lullaby again. It was at this point, when we watched the series, that Nick and I held back tears of our own.

In much the same way Iroh brightened the lives of others, Nick brightened mine.

God rest your soul, Nick.

Leaves from the vine

Falling so slow

Like fragile, tiny shells

Drifting in the foam

Little soldier boy

Come marching home

Brave soldier boy

Comes marching home

Les Misérables, Honestly

Posted on September 9, 2015 by Adam Stück

Well, I finished Les flipping Misérables.

The unabridged version of this famous novel took me an embarrassingly long time to read. (Heck, I even blogged about it once or twice last year!) At one point, I set aside the book for months to read five other novels and roughly half of the Bone comic series. Les Mis has loomed over me for a long time, and it’s a relief to put it back on the shelf and get on with my life.

I’ll discuss Lez Miz in a future Review Roundup, but for now, I’ll just share a brief, honest look at the movie adaptation of the musical adaptation of the abridged version of the original novel. (Yes, Hollywood has adapted the heck out of this book.) The movie isn’t bad, yet it’s quite a long one, so please enjoy this much shorter (and funnier!) take on the epic story of Les Misérables.

385. Review Roundup: Death Game Edition

Posted on September 7, 2015 by Adam Stück

It has been a while since TMTF’s last Review Roundup. Why don’t we look at some stories about death games?

In these media, protagonists gamble their lives in dangerous games. Some of these are literal: formal competitions with rules. Some are figurative: risky ventures into crime. And one of these stories has nothing at all to do with death games. (I enjoy writing these reviews, but not enough to plan my media consumption around them!)

Let’s talk about The Hunger Games trilogy, Ant-Man, The Big Lebowski, Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon?, and Whisper of the Heart.

The Hunger Games trilogy

For the first time in years, I picked up a popular Young Adult novel to find out what all the fuss is about. (My last investigation of a literary sensation led me to read Twilight, a mistake from which I never fully recovered.) The Hunger Games is a pop culture phenomenon, and I meant to find out why.

I dunno, guys. I wasn’t all that impressed. Maybe I’m just a grumpy snob, but the Hunger Games trilogy neither dazzled nor entertained me. The books aren’t bad, but I wouldn’t call them classics.

The Hunger Games books tell the tale of Katniss Everdeen, a pragmatic teen trapped in an impoverished district of Panem. The government of this dystopian country rules its outer districts by fear and humiliation, selecting two children from each district every year and forcing them all to fight to the death. This gruesome event, the Hunger Games, is televised throughout Panem as an amusement for the wealthy; for the poor, it’s a reminder of their powerlessness. Katniss is selected for the Hunger Games, and the books follow her rise and fall from gladiator to celebrity to revolutionary to whiny PTSD victim.

The Hunger Games books are lauded for their smart setup and gripping story. I’ll be the first to admit there is truth to these praises. Panem is an interesting setting. The concept of the Hunger Games is fascinating, providing a way for a corrupt government to placate the rich and subjugate the poor. The story has its twists and turns, and the first book is actually pretty engaging.

However, the characters are mostly dull and unlikable. Katniss, who narrates the story, lacks much personality besides a coldly analytical attitude and occasional flickers of affection. As the books wear on, Katniss is traumatized by her horrific experiences, becoming angsty and angry—a change in her personality, sure, but not for the better. More promising characters, such as foppish Effie Trinket and drunken Haymitch Abernathy, end up disappointing.

When it comes to tone and style, I get the impression the Hunger Games books aren’t sure what they want to be. They have a sort of gritty realism concerning poverty and war. I appreciate that. However, this gloomy approach is at odds with the books’ ludicrous sci-fi touches and predictable Young Adult nonsense. (Yes, there’s a love triangle, and it’s annoying.)

In the end, the Hunger Games books have just enough harsh realism to be depressing and just enough teen kitsch not to be taken seriously. They fall in a literary no man’s land, refusing to embrace either realism or sensationalism, and embodying the worst traits of both. I find it hard to recommend these books.

Ant-Man

Moving on to something much more entertaining, Ant-Man is another big, dumb, spectacularly fun Marvel movie. Unlike the Hunger Games books, Ant-Man embraces its own goofiness in a way that’s a joy to see.

Ant-Man begins with Scott Lang feeling very small. This well-meaning ex-convict can’t keep a job or convince his ex-wife to let him spend time with their little girl. When Lang meets an old inventor named Hank Pym—he burgles Pym’s home, actually, but that’s not the point—Pym offers him “a shot at redemption,” meaning an opportunity to put on a high-tech suit, shrink to the size of an ant, and dive back into the life-or-death game of high-stakes burglary.

Look, if you’ve seen any recent Marvel movie, you know what to expect at this point. Ant-Man is full of quotable quips, flashy action scenes, and comic book lore, with a little sentimentality sprinkled here and there.

This time, however, there are two things to make the film stand out. First is an emphasis on father-daughter relationships. This motif isn’t developed as fully as a it could be, but it works. The second thing is that Ant-Man is basically a superhero heist movie, in the same way the first Captain America is a superhero war film and the second one is a superhero cold war thriller. Ant-Man isn’t about saving the world, but stealing stuff… to save the world, I guess.

It’s still a nice touch.

I really enjoyed Ant-Man. It nods at other movies in the Marvel Cinematic Universe without depending on them, and I look forward to seeing Ant-Man in future films. Not bad for such a little guy.

The Big Lebowski

With that, we move on from a small hero to a larger-than-life one in The Big Lebowski. Ironically, however, the film’s hero isn’t actually the Big Lebowski, but a slacker with the same name (I’ll call him the Lesser Lebowski) who loves bowling, booze, and tacking the word “man” to the end of nearly every sentence.

The Big Lebowski begins when thugs storm the home of Jeff Lebowski, a laid-back stoner known as “the Dude,” and pee on his rug. It was a nice rug, man. It really tied the room together. The thugs threatened the Dude (and peed on his rug) under the impression he was “the Big Lebowski,” a millionaire with the same name. When the Dude takes his bowling buddies’ advice to seek compensation from the Big Lebowski for the rug, he becomes snared in a game of deception, violence, kidnapping, cursing, and postmodern art.

This movie is sort of a black comedy and sort of a noir crime film, but it’s mostly Jeff Bridges bowling, drinking, and wandering around Los Angeles. In the end, the film’s complex web of crime and deception unravels to reveal a whole lot of nothing, and I think that’s the point: there never was one.

This was quite an entertaining movie. It ain’t one for kids—it has bullets, boobs, and f-bombs beyond count—but for adults with a healthy sense of the absurd, The Big Lebowski is a treat.

Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon?

Well, is it?

The oddly-titled anime Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? is the tale of Bell, a nice young man who longs to become an adventurer—to impress the ladies, of course. He lives in a medieval fantasy town whose existence revolves around the eponymous dungeon: a labyrinth teeming with monsters. Adventurers join familias—guilds sponsored by gods or goddesses—and venture into the dungeon in a dangerous game for treasure and glory. In quest to become a dungeon-conquering hero, Bell accepts the sponsorship of a down-on-her-luck goddess named Hestia. This unlikely pair must work together for Bell to have any chance of becoming a master adventurer and impressing the ladies… well, one in particular.

I won’t lie, guys. This anime is incredibly dumb. Remember what I said about Ant-Man embracing its goofiness? This show does the same, but with roughly ten thousand times as much enthusiasm.

I mean, the anime’s opening theme has a momentary scene of Bell and Hestia brushing their teeth. Look at this. Look at it.

This is basically the entire show: dumb as all heck, but endearing in its silliness, with some gratuitous cleavage for good measure.

The world of Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? functions exactly like a video game (an MMORPG, to be precise) without actually being a video game. Its adventurers gain experience and level up—heck, they even have statistics (appearing as magical tattoos on their backs) reflecting their competency in various areas. Monsters respawn on a set timetable, and powerful creatures explicitly called bosses guard certain floors of the dungeon. The setting is instantly comprehensible to gamers, but at the cost of making absolutely no sense. Why do adventurers level up? What revives the monsters that respawn? What the heck is going on?!

(It is very faintly hinted that the gods and goddesses of ancient times created this video game-like world for their own enjoyment, but no real explanation is ever given.)

This is a show in which half the female characters have crushes on the hero, like Twilight in reverse, and most female adventurers wear stupid chain mail bikinis. I can’t defend or recommend this anime. It’s really, really dumb.

All the same, I kinda enjoyed it. Bell, who has a massive inferiority complex, is kind and friendly: a welcome change of pace from angsty or arrogant anime heroes. Hestia works odd jobs to support him, despite being, y’know, a goddess. The show seldom takes itself too seriously; the rare occasions it does are some of its weaker moments. For the most part, its good-natured goofiness made it fun to watch, if not intellectually rewarding.

Whisper of the Heart

At last we arrive at a film that not even I can pretend fits the vague “death game” theme of this Review Roundup: Whisper of the Heart. Because of this movie, John Denver’s all-American classic “Take Me Home, Country Roads” will forever remind me of urban Japan.

Shizuku is a bookish Japanese teen, sharing a cramped apartment with her family. She notices one day that all of her library books were previously checked out by someone named Seiji, and wonders who he might be. Shizuku later ends up at an antique shop. Its owner encourages her to pursue her passion for writing stories, and also introduces her to his grandson: the mysterious Seiji. As Shizuku’s love of writing grows, so does another kind of love.

Studio Ghibli is magnificent. Whisper of the Heart was one of the few Studio Ghibli films I had never seen, and I’m glad I finally watched it.

I’ll be honest: Whisper of the Heart is no masterpiece. Nah, it’s merely a touching, charming, beautifully-animated coming-of-age story with a scene that nearly brought tears to my cynical eyes. By lofty Studio Ghibli standards, this is merely a decent film. By any other standards, Whisper of the Heart is wonderful.

I enjoyed the film probably more than most people because I identify with Shizuku’s desire to write stories. I was Shizuku once, in a manner of speaking: young, naïve, hopeful, insecure, eager to share my stories, and scared no one would want to read them—or worse, that they wouldn’t be worth reading.

Whisper of the Heart has its fair share of sentimentality: far more, in fact, than nearly any other Studio Ghibli film. The movie lacks the effortless grace and emotional punch of the studio’s finest works… but there is one scene, in which several musicians strike up their instruments for a joyful, impromptu performance of “Take Me Home, Country Roads,” that brought me closer to crying than any film in recent memory (except Inside Out, of course).

It may not be as popular as Studio Ghibli’s other movies, but Whisper of the Heart is absolutely worth watching, especially if you’re an aspiring writer, a Studio Ghibli fan, or a fan of romance.

What books, films, shows, or video games have you enjoyed lately? Let us know in the comments!

384. Spiders Are Noble and Misunderstood

Posted on September 4, 2015 by Adam Stück

Nearly everyone I know has an irrational fear of spiders. In fact, most of my friends and relatives react to spiders by terminating them with extreme prejudice. This is a shame. Spiders are noble, innocent, misunderstood creatures. I’m fond of the little guys, and I think they deserve better than to be slaughtered without pity or remorse.

I grew up in Ecuador: a tiny country with a bewildering variety of birds, animals, insects, and other creatures, including several species of spiders. At one point in Quito, my family and I had tarantulas burrowing in our back garden. No spider ever did me harm. Other bugs attacked me, such as mosquitoes; still more tried unsuccessfully to hurt me, such as scorpions and a Giant Mutant Killer Jungle Ant, but spiders were contented to mind their own business and leave me alone.

Most people refuse to return that favor. A friend of mine, whom I’ll call Socrates, once tried incinerating a spider with a flamethrower cobbled together from a lighter and a can of cooking spray. Other friends—less creative than Socrates, but just as violent—have wielded books and shoes in their bloodthirsty crusade against spiders.

Heck, even J.R.R. Tolkien, a man of enormous creative genius and one of my heroes, hated spiders. A childhood encounter with a tarantula traumatized him for life. His arachnophobia surfaced in his stories; his most famous books, The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, both feature wicked giant spiders.

As much as I admire Tolkien, I think E.B. White was closer to the truth when he wrote Charlotte’s Web, a children’s book about a sweet, noble friend who happens to be a spider.

Everyone thinks spiders are awful, but look at that goose! That bird is clearly evil, and probably possessed by many devils.

Charlotte is basically any and every spider: hardworking and considerate, spinning beautiful webs to rid the world of pests like flies and mosquitoes. E.B. White understood, guys.

Flipping heck, even cartoons for young children get it.

Spiders quietly eliminate true pests. Have you ever tried sleeping with a cloud of mosquitoes buzzing around your ears? I have. It sucks. Have you ever been annoyed by flies, stung by bees, or menaced by cockroaches? I have. It sucks. (Cockroaches, my archenemies, are the worst creatures on God’s green earth.) Spiders prevent the proliferation of these wretched beasties. If spiders did not exist, the world would be overrun by filthy pests. Spiders are God’s guardian angels.

Spiders aren’t so bad, really.

Look, I get it. Spiders look scary. They have a lot of legs and too many eyes, and the way they move is a little creepy. Spiders are odd-looking. However, if it were okay to kill things just because they looked odd, Pete Docter would have been murdered ages ago, and Pixar’s Inside Out (which Docter directed and co-wrote) would never have been made. So there.

I have nothing but respect and admiration for Mr. Docter, but he sure is a goofy-looking guy. He has roughly 70% more forehead than most people.

If we killed everything that looked weird or made us uncomfortable, I probably wouldn’t have made it to my teens.

There’s a reasonable explanation for this. Probably.

Yes, some spiders are venomous. Some can kill you. Do you know what else can kill you? Donkeys. (They have a vicious kick.) Human beings also kill each other occasionally, but I like to think most of us aren’t so bad—and neither are most spiders.

So the next time you want to slaughter a spider out of fear or disgust, consider showing some mercy and putting it outside instead!

Pokémon Is Really Dark

Posted on September 2, 2015 by Adam Stück

I’m not really a Pokémon guy, but this song will echo forever in the farthest corners of my memory. I suspect most millennials have this song embedded in their collective subconscious, in the same way most people in Generation X know all the words to the theme from Gilligan’s Island. It ain’t easy to escape pop culture.

Pokémon is a media franchise with a weird acute accent that no one actually pronounces. It’s all about kids setting out on adventures, befriending cute critters known as Pokémon, and overcoming obstacles in their journeys to become the best they can be.

I’m far from the first person to point this out, but Pokémon is actually rather grim.

Of course, Pokémon wants to be a fun adventure. However, when you begin to think about it, the series can be easily deconstructed into something far more sinister.

The original story of Pokémon starts with a single mother turning her ten-year-old boy out of her home. This child is given a dangerous monster, a Pokémon, as a ~~slave~~ pet. He immediately confines his new friend in a tiny ball, releasing it only to pit it against other Pokémon in violent battles. In some of these, the child forces his Pokémon to attack unsuspecting local wildlife; in others, he picks fights with other kids, beats their Pokémon senseless, and takes their money.

Our ~~savage bully~~ young hero wanders the world alone, despite being a vulnerable child whom any adult could easily harm. This foolhardy ten-year-old braves illness, injury, stormy weather, extreme cold, dark caves, biker gangs, and hordes of Pokémon, which he either beats into submission or captures, converts to data, and stores on a dusty computer somewhere. He also tries to bring down an entire syndicate of dangerous criminals.

This all sounds pretty bad, right? It gets worse. The hero of Pokémon isn’t a lone psychopath, endangering himself in his relentless quest to assault and capture innocent creatures. He is doing exactly what his society expects him to do. The world of Pokémon revolves around the endangerment of children and exploitation of animals.

Yes, I’m taking Pokémon way too seriously, and deconstructing it in ways its creators (probably) never intended. I actually kinda like Pokémon, though it’s far from my favorite thing in the world. (That would be coffee.) Nah, I just find it interesting how quickly such a cheerful story turns grim when viewed from a certain point of view.

383. Thoughts on the Josh Duggar Scandal

Posted on August 31, 2015 by Adam Stück

Yes, TMTF gets topical today. This hardly ever happens. You see, I hate discussing touchy subjects; TMTF is a blog about stuff that matters to me, and I don’t care for scandals or controversies. I would much rather write about butchered hymns or Marvel’s Daredevil than fuel the angry debates raging across the Internet.

Besides, I’m usually oblivious to current events. I prefer to read news and editorials about movies, video games, or geek culture—or else just read a good book—than wade through depressing headlines about scandals, violent crimes, and celebrity necklines.

However, the shock waves from Josh Duggar scandal have reached even my quiet corners of the Internet. I don’t normally write about this kind of thing, but something about this messy tragedy struck a chord with me.

In case you don’t already know them, here are the facts. Josh Duggar, a Christian television personality and family values activist, was recently found to have held paid accounts on Ashley Madison, a website for people seeking extramarital affairs. He responded to this disclosure by confessing to cheating on his wife and being addicted to porn. A few months before the Ashley Madison scandal, Duggar was discovered to have sexually molested several girls, including several of his sisters, when he was a teen.

Mr. Duggar claims to support family values.

To wit, for all his support of religious faith and family values, Josh Duggar is an unfaithful, dishonest, hypocritical scoundrel.

You’ve done awful things, Mr. Duggar. Shame on you. Shame on your face.

My reaction to the Josh Duggar scandal was more or less exactly the same as my reaction to every other scandal in contemporary Christianity: I shook my head, thought “What a fool,” spent a moment praying for him and his family, and then went back to reading about video games on Kotaku.

I could only imagine how grieved and devastated his family must be. Moreover, I was annoyed and saddened me that the idiocy of one high-profile religious person was so widely publicized, while decades of faithful ministry by honest, ordinary religious people everywhere went unnoticed by the media.

My problem is that I have far more in common with Mr. Duggar than I want to admit.

No, I don’t have an Ashley Madison account; no, I haven’t molested anyone; and no, I’m not hiding a porn addiction. (My only addiction is coffee, and I acknowledge it proudly.) However, at various times, I have certainly watched porn. I have lied. I have griped, gossiped, insulted, whined, accused, and ranted. I have neglected commitments, wasted time, wallowed in self-pity, blamed others for my mistakes, and been a shameless hypocrite. I am extremely selfish. I struggle to forgive others, and hold grudges like nobody’s business. I have frequently failed to be a good friend, a devout Christian, and a decent human being.

You’ve done awful things, Mr. Stück. Shame on you. Shame on your face.

If every wrong thing I have ever done were dragged out of the shadows and publicized all over the world, I would be desperate for forgiveness and compassion… and somewhere, a self-righteous git like me would shake his head, think “What a fool,” spend a moment praying for me and my family, and then go back to reading about video games on Kotaku.

I’m not defending Josh Duggar. In fact, I would like to smack him repeatedly with a heavy Bible, but that isn’t the point. Beyond my anger and sadness, there is quite a lot of hypocritical self-righteousness. When I start to judge Mr. Duggar, my accusations veer dangerously close to home. Lust? Selfishness? Dishonesty? Arrogance? A goofy-looking face? At one time or another, I have been guilty of all of these, and more.

Jesus Christ once said, “Do not judge, or you too will be judged.For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” The Apostle Paul later wrote, “You, therefore, have no excuse, you who pass judgment on someone else, for at whatever point you judge another, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgment do the same things.”

I’m not saying I shouldn’t condemn Mr. Duggar’s dishonesty, unfaithfulness, and hypocrisy. I absolutely should. He did some awful things, and it would be awful to pretend that he didn’t. However—and yes, I realize how painfully trite this sounds—I must hate the sin and love the sinner. He doesn’t deserve compassion, but neither do I.

I am not Josh Duggar, but I could have been. As the media continues tearing Josh Duggar to pieces, which it will do until it gets bored or finds someone else to tear to pieces, I’m trying not to forget that he is a living human being. He is a man who probably hates himself, and likely feels like everything has fallen apart.

So I’ll echo Simon & Garfunkel and say, with all the sincerity lacking in the original song: Here’s to you, Mr. Josh Duggar. Jesus loves you more than you will know.

382. TMTF’s Top Ten Worst Video Game Movies

Posted on August 28, 2015 by Adam Stück

Today’s post was written by Brittni Williams: writer, gamer, and movie aficionado. It is a truth universally acknowledged that video game movies suck, and Brittni was brave enough to review the worst ones ever made. For more musings from Brittni, find her on Twitter!

In the past decade or so, video games have increasingly cribbed from the world of film to deliver so-called “cinematic experiences” to gamers and non-gamers alike. This has brought us franchises like Half-Life, Call of Duty, Uncharted and The Last of Us, as well as films which called upon a wide range of auteur expertise, from Steven Spielberg to Michael Bay.

It’s a conundrum, then, why video game-based films have been largely unable to draw from the deep well of inspiration that inspired them in the first place. As anyone who harbors a passion for both can attest, it’s been a long and treacherous road of both critical and financial failures.

Following is a list of ten of the most impressively awful video game-movie adaptations: the cream of the crop of the worst of the worst.

[Editor’s note: The films on this list are not ranked numerically, as their sheer awfulness defies all attempts at neat categorization.]

Dead or Alive (2007)

Perhaps it shouldn’t be surprising that a game which derives most of its appeal from seductive female eye candy rather than a meaningful plot doesn’t translate very well to the big screen. Starring a roster of models-turned-actresses (Devon Aoki and Jamie Pressly both appeared on the runways of major designers in the early aughts) this movie is little more than a middle-school boy’s fantasy brought to life. And it doesn’t help matters that DOA’s action scenes refuse to obey the laws of physics.

Double Dragon (1994)

Here’s another video game film which put hardly any thought into its plot, which made a cinematic adaptation pointless. The movie, which is based very loosely on the game’s premise, is predictable and even somewhat racist. Alyssa Milano stars as the love interest of two brothers on the run from a gang of LA thugs hell-bent on recovering a lost talisman.

Hitman (2007)

One would think that an action and adventure game with a fairly interesting story would work well condensed into a couple hours of film, but Hitman unfortunately couldn’t pull off this seemingly easy task—even with a worthwhile leading man, Timothy Olyphant, playing the Hitman. Of course, it didn’t help that the movie’s director, who seemed to have a true appreciation of the game, was pulled midway through production.

Street Fighter (2009)

Another fighting game. Another bizarrely bad plot. And cast. And directing. And just about everything. The worst part—among the many—is how seriously the movie takes itself despite being based on a game which doesn’t take its story seriously at all. Despite a few well-choreographed fight scenes, Street Fighter should have kept off the pavement and stuck around the arcade where it belongs.

Wing Commander (1999)

Most failed adaptations suffer from the disconnect between the game’s creation and the movie’s—particularly the absence of the creator. Unfortunately for Wing Commander, it had no such excuse as it was the game’s creator himself who directed this financial and critical bomb, and turned futuristic space ships into flying hunks of junk.

Mortal Kombat: Annihilation (1997)

The original Mortal Kombat just barely skated along the silliness/self-awareness line to be accepted into guilty pleasure territory. This sorry sequel unfortunately fell over the mark as it threw away what was good in the original and kept all the bad, the shallow acting (from Liu Kang in particular). In the end, you’re probably better off wasting your quarters trying to beat Tekken 2.

Resident Evil: Afterlife (2010)

The title is appropriate, considering the fact that this was just another sequel that disappointed fans of the previous adaptations. A film series that has surely overstayed its welcome on Earth (the franchise continues to live on via iTunes and various streaming services), this incarnation in particular lacked compelling action scenes, and of course offered little in the way of substantial storytelling. Dull and lifeless, here the afterlife brings no promise of redemption.

Silent Hill (2006)

Video games are often panned for their abysmally poor writing, so it’s rather strange that movie makers are unable to remedy that problem with the various talents at their disposal. Silent Hill is another adaptation that is utterly destroyed by a poor effort from screenwriters, suffering from both a baffling plot and cringe-worthy dialogue. The film might be an aesthetic achievement but it flounders in every other regard.

Tron Legacy (2010)

This adaptation offers stunning visual spectacles, but little else. The studio definitely got its money’s worth from the aesthetically-pleasing action scenes and remarkable depictions of new technology, but the lack of a real story and a compelling human element is probably why they didn’t make much of their money back. From start to finish, the sleek form swallows the shallow attempts at a compelling storyline.

BloodRayne (2005)

Of course, the worst of the worst of the worst was directed by Uwe Boll. The video game was actually well-regarded for its inventive story, so it’s a shame that movie magic and a decent cast couldn’t break free from the double curse of video game adaptations and Uwe Boll. Everything about this picture is painful.

Are video game films forever doomed to failure? Considering the fact that modern games are essentially cinematic experiences in and of themselves, the (growing) heap of filmic disasters only serves as further proof that the bridge from console to megaplex is perhaps one best avoided. Life-like is good enough, and there is simply no replacing the experience of role-player fantasy.

Typewriter Monkey Task Force

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