Sweet "Sweet Merciful God Who Made This Game" Home

Note: This is an old article from the now dead Site PlebReport that I was once a contributor for. Figured I'd save it and repost it for the season.

New Age Retro Gaming: Sweet Home

It’s Halloween time so I’d like to talk about some spooky titles this month. Released together in 1989 with the movie of the same name, Sweet Home is a survival horror RPG for the NES/Famicom. Luckily for my 4-year old self, the game was never officially released outside of Japan: while the movie is uninspired and campy, the video game is nothing short of terrifying.

To be fair, I’ve never seen a porcelain doll that I didn’t expect to say this to me.

Story

Five people go into an old decrepit mansion looking for a collection of priceless frescoes created by the mansion’s late owner Ichirō Mamiya. They are greeted in the entry way by a malicious spirit, who proceeds to trap them inside. To escape, they must solve the mystery of the mansion and put the spirit to rest.

Gameplay

The entirety of the game is spent trying to navigate your five heroes safely through the mansion, which is littered with pitfalls and monsters. All 5 characters can be operated independently, or you can travel with up to 3 people at one time, leaving the other 2 alone or in a separate group. Each character has 2 inventory slots, and one personal item which is useful for solving puzzles or defeating enemies. The game requires a lot of back tracking in order to switch out items that you need or returning to areas once you’ve opened up a new pathway.

Walking around the mansion will initiate random encounters with your current party. Combat is similar to Dragon Quest and other RPGs of the era: you’re shown an image of the monster you are fighting with your character’s stats lining the bottom of the screen. The player will always attack first, followed by the monster, which makes combat pretty simple. Even better is that during combat, you can use a “Call” function which allows you to switch to your other Party(s) and navigate them to the ones in combat, so that all of your characters can participate.

Graphics and Sound

This game is 8-bit nightmare fuel. The game overworld, while standard for a game of its time, is dark and menacing. The sprites are all amazingly detailed and horrific. When your characters die you’re presented with a gruesome cut-scene of them dying (men are cut in half at the waist, women fall dead into a pool of their own 8-bit blood). The music has incredible range, from the frantic pieces that play during combat or when characters are in danger of dying to traps, to the slow and menacing piece that plays in the first area of the mansion, to the insane incoherent shrieking that plays whilst in the caves under the house.

One of the most disturbing parts of the game involves an NPC ally sacrificing himself to help you continue on through an obstacle, followed by a cut-scene of his flesh melting off of his skeleton. This combined with the sad tune that plays through the scene makes for some horrific imagery.

Look at this! LOOK AT THIS!!!!!

The Gritty Details

I have a vivid imagination, and this game is extremely unsettling and tense. Whenever you encounter an enemy, you’re presented with a black screen and creepy build up music before the actual foe is revealed. Every time you encounter a new door, a short cut-scene of the door opening plays, with nothing but the creak of the door, which is deliberately reused as a staple of the Resident Evil/Biohazard Series. The sprite artwork is disturbing and the story is told in chilling fashion. You’ll encounter what looks like a dead body on the map and when examined, a sprite of a bisected corpse reaches for you, asking for help or giving a hint. The notes left by the previous adventurers start off hopeful of escape and slowly degrade into fear and insanity or are outright cut off mid-sentence, signifying their sudden demise.

Thank you, creepy upper half of man. May your entrails not get caught on a loose nail.

Let me be frank: this game is BRUTAL. It is one of the most tedious games I have ever played. Most of the difficulty comes from its steep learning curve and small margin for error. A new player will certainly come across a myriad of frustrating backtracks, deaths, and restarts. Oh man. Deaths. When a character dies, they stay dead. No resurrection items, no inns; just death. Any items they were carrying are lost, and you lose their personal item forever. Speaking of which, items are super scarce. Traversing the mansion sometimes require wooden boards you need to use to make makeshift bridges. These get weaker for every PERSON that crosses them, which results in not only the bridge breaking, but the person on it when it breaks hanging on to a ledge for their lives. If you don’t get to them in time, INSTANT DEATH. Healing is only done via Tonics. While they do heal all of your characters to full when used, there is only two dozen or so of them in the entire game.

There are a number of puzzles and obstacles which require different character’s personal item to solve. Should any of these characters die, you’ll need to find a replacement inventory item to make up for it, which unfortunately take up one of the 2 item slots of your remaining characters which could be used for other items. Often, these items are hard to get to, and if you lose certain characters too soon, or lose too many, you’ll find yourself having to start the whole game over.

Many of the puzzles require more attention to the notes and hints scattered about and a little common sense regarding item usage. The whole game changed for me when I found out I could actually pick up wooden boards that I placed and reuse them later. In some instances I thought I was clever sending only one person across a make-shift bridge until they were insta-killed by a trap which another person could have easily saved them from had they been close by.

Seriously, Fuck you game

A careful and knowledgeable player can go through the game with relative ease, however. The fear of death through combat is mitigated by keeping all 5 of your characters in close proximity and grind out enemies, taking little to no damage. Once your characters are strong enough, the few instances where they are separated are a breeze as you can kill the average enemy in 2 hits, and you never fight more than one enemy at a time. The task of keeping all of your characters around for this purpose does get rather tedious. You can also save at any point in time, so any time you feel you are coming across a dangerous obstacle, you can save and reload if you fail. In conjunction, this removes almost all of the tension out of the game, as you can slowly and surely inch your way to victory. To be fair, I personally think the fun of most games is ruined by power gaming in this fashion, so I would not really call that an issue unique to this game.

Final Take

Overall, I think that any survival horror and/or rpg fan should give the game a shot. The positives far outweigh the negatives and it’s worth at least one play-through. Fans of the Resident Evil/Biohazard series will get a good chuckle out of the game’s features that clearly inspired the original RE, such as the door opening cut-scenes, the item management, and the “master of unlocking” character. Fan translated ROMs are a dime a dozen or you can check it out on one of my personal favorite websites, Retro Uprising.

Golimar Part Deux

So apparently Hulu decided they wanted to jump on the extended anthology series bandwagon, and introduced a new series of horror movies called Into The Dark. I stumbled upon this by accident, as you see, I was watching Shrill (great series, by the way) when Hulu decided that I needed to hear about Treehouse every other goddamned minute. I was legit intrigued, as white people under supernatural duress is one of my favorite pastimes. And the commercial spots for the movie did look really good.

They couldn't possibly muck this all up. Right?

Unfortunately, Hulu's ability to make good commercials far exceeds their ability to make a decent horror story.

Treehouse

The film opens with a battered looking woman in what looks like the Arizona Badlands. She is at a picnic setup with a basket that is filled with like 10% food and 90% Cutco cutlery. Looks like Vector got another one, folks. She picks up one of the knives before we cut to Jimmi Simpson (of D.E.B.S. Fame) as Peter, an in-universe knock off of Gordon Ramsey. He runs the restaurant Riley, named after his daughter (who you can soon forget about) where he films a reality TV show where he berates his staff with none of the tact and charm of Gordon Ramsey and all of the Beta of Jimmi Simpson. After filming an episode, Peter talks with Riley about going with her to his ex-wife's wedding, which he can't attend because he has something important he has to handle. He promises her that next time, he won't be a shitty dad. Haven't heard that one before, Peter.

We cut to a weird montage of Peter on the phone with a person named Barry who is handling his end of something for him, and Peter driving the coast while lame Alternative Rock plays. He arrives at a bait shop where he shares a moment with a woman who is a member of the world's most diverse bachelorette party. The owner of the bait shop is Lonnie, a guy Peter and his sister grew up with.  Peter makes several quips about Lonnie being Buffalo Bill before Lonnie makes creepy remarks about Peter's sister Gwen, scaring Peter off.

Michael Weston: "What's my direction?"
Director: "I want you to channel an autistic stage actor Playing Norman Bates in Psycho: The Musical,
but his son died two minutes ago and his last wish was for you to finish the performance"
Michael: Say no more.

Peter arrives at his childhood home, where he meets up with Gwen and the family gargoyle house keeper Agnes. Peter and Gwen haven't seen each other in 3 years, because something bad and vague happened, which caused everyone to hate Peter, and he's mad that Gwen didn't have his back. Gwen asks why he called her to the family home, and Peter mentions that the people on the internet are out to get him. Gwen takes a call, and she expositions to us and Peter that she's the DA and she has to immediately take a case, leaving Peter alone with Agnes, and apparently a giant fucking goat that Peter jokingly calls Black Phillip.

Peter discovers an odd picture (which viewers not who aren't blind will notice is a shitty painting of the Knife Saleswoman from the beginning of the movie) which Agnes states that his father painted before he died. Weird occurrences happen, such as cockroaches appearing in the pristine kitchen, bloody gore in a toilet, and random calls from Lonnie talking about how proud of Peter he is. Kara, the woman from the bait shop, stops by that evening stating that the power went out at their party house, and Peter offers assistance while vigorously banging his head against the 4th wall.

TWENTY SIX WHOLE minutes into the movie, Peter goes out for a morning run, where he encounters the titular tree-house. We're then greeted with wild zoom ins, blood red filters, scare chords, sounds of children playing, and the sounds of a woman groaning in discontent. This tree-house is totally into Death Metal. Kara shows up and Peter tells her that he and Gwen used to spend a lot of time in the tree-house before Dora Milaje and Hispanic Caricature from the bachelorette party arrive. They exchange lame banter with Peter, who offers to cook for them. The women arrive for dinner later, bringing along the rest of the group, Obvious Brit and MILF.

Director: I've never seen more than 2 women together at one time. How do they ride in cars?
Assistant: I assume like everyone else?
Director: That doesn't sound right.

Everyone drinks and eats and have a good time. They exchange more lame banter and topics which were dated before the movie even aired, and the women show off their matching Celtic Knot tattoos of sisterhood. Peter gets wasted, acts like a hipster dick, and proceeds to pass the fuck out. He wakes up later in bed with Obvious Brit, who has also passed out. He stumbles downstairs, where he comes across a peacock and some leftover props from the Blair Witch Project. Disturbed, he runs upstairs to find Obvious Brit missing, before a bunch of mask wearing weirdos start creeping into the house. The Masked figures prance around Peter "menacingly," Peter randomly gets a Charley Horse and falls over before the masked figures drag him inside another room.

Peter awakens again, paralyzed, with a chain tied around his neck with Obvious Brit passed out next to him, wearing Sears Catalog lingerie. Kara appears dressed like an extra in A Mid-Summer Night's Dream and reveals herself to be a Witch. You see, Peter raped Kara's sister Becca in the titular tree-house when they were teens, and because he was from a wealthy family, he never got in trouble. It turns out that the Knife saleswoman from earlier was Becca, the cutlery was Peter's brand of cutlery, and she used said cutlery to commit suicide. What a terrible marketing strategy, Vector. The other women appear, also stating they are witches, and proceed to torture Peter by twerking, annoying him with prestidigitation and giving him a 60 minute hair, nail and skin treatment without his consent.

Spa Day is a very dangerous day.

The witches continue to taunt Peter, and it turns out he is a repeat sexual assaulter, who has assaulted journalists and female participants on his show. A recent accusation was the something Peter was discussing with Barry and why he wanted to meet with Gwen. Peter regains use of his limbs and proceeds to choke and kick bitches left and right before escaping. He runs downstairs and calls Lonnie for help, and the Witches corner him in the kitchen. He tries to leave the house but Dora Milaje goes Monday Night Raw and delivers a swift beat down to the colonizer. Lonnie pulls up like a fucking boss ready to throw-down and save Peter, but apparently Agnes is his mother, and she's in on the scheme, so she sends his simple ass home.

Peter wakes up, AGAIN, this time in a peacock cage. The witches taunt him some more and then dress him up in women's clothes before letting him loose like a fox to hunt. Peter stumbles about in his lady heels and runs down to the tree-house and hides inside. There he finds the walls plastered with all of the news coverage of his various sexual assaults as well as crime scene imagery from Becca's suicide. He flees in terror outside where Gwen is waiting in her car. Gwen confesses that she too, is in on it, and asked the women to teach Peter a lesson, as Becca was her best friend. She feels guilt for siding with Peter over Becca, and she's tired of him getting away with his raping ways. The witches appear and Gwen informs Peter that she didn't know they were real witches, and they attack the car, dragging Peter and Gwen away.

Peter awakens, YET AGAIN, tied to a bed, but with his hands staked and bloody. The witches do more random witch twerking and ninjitsu hand signs before drawing their Celtic Knot symbol on his chest in blood. Peter proceeds to pass out again like a punk ass, and wakes up the next morning in his bed, fully clothed, with the house in a state as if nothing ever happened. Kara calls and tells Peter that Gwen has no memory of what happened and that no one will ever believe him if he tries to go to the authorities. She warns him that unless he wants to suffer again, to never touch another woman. Then she turns his stove on.

What unfathomable power!

It is then revealed to the audience that Surprise: Everyone was in on it the whole time! Wait a minute.... Yeah... In a double double twist, it turns out that none of them are actually witches, and Gwen knew this as well, and everything was just a bunch of party tricks used to scare Peter dickless! Except, all of the times they drugged Peter to paralyze and knock him unconscious. Oh yeah and the time Obvious Brit almost shot Peter with a fucking crossbow.

Yeah.... about that....

Peter, clearly traumatized shitless at this point, decides to drive immediately to his ex-wife's house to make amends with both her and his daughter. Progress! As peter is leaving, a parcel delivery woman stops and greets him by name. Confused, as he does not recognize the woman, she flashes her wrist, showing off the Celtic Knot Tattoo the "Witches" posses. DUN DUN DUNNNNNN.

My Thoughts

The first of MANY problems with this movie, is the tone. Jimmi Simpson portrays Peter as this Genre Savvy asshole, who quips incessantly throughout the movie about all of the horror and movie cliche's he find himself in, until the witches reveal themselves, wherein he becomes a whimpering pile of failure. The issue with this is that everyone else plays their role straight. Sure the writing is bad, but you can't have your main character try to Ash Williams their way through a bad movie if your movie is meant to be taken seriously. If you want to see a good example of a Genre Savvy asshole try to quip himself out of a horror scenario, watch the Playtest episode of Black Mirror.

Problem #2 is the writing and characters. This movie tried too hard to be current, and most of the dialogue is a wanna be cool guy talking to a diverse group of women. Unfortunately it was written by 2 white dudes, and it shows. Outside of Kara and Gwen, the women are horrible cliches of what white guys think non-white women are like. Hispanic Caricature can't go 5 words without saying Papi or Puerto Rico, Dora Milaje is of course the only witch who tries voodoo and jokes as if she's offended by the very first thing Peter says to her, and I'm pretty sure they just wrote Obvious Brit's script in MS Word, changed the system language to EN-BR, then pressed autocorrect.

Sophia: "I was like 'Are you having a laugh' and then the wanker goes 'Bollocks' and then my mate Dora.."
Director: Cut! Sophia! Beautiful! But let's try the scene again, this time replaces your 'I's and 'My's with 'Me's. Also hold this pot of tea.

It's obvious that this movie is trying to approach the #MeToo movement, but it's got to be one of the most shallow executions ever. I feel like the movie goes out of the way to make Peter interesting and somewhat likable, and make all of the women one note and shallow, and then be like "If you you're still rooting for Peter even after you find out he's a serial rapist, you're a piece of shit! You should obviously side with the many female human people, as there are more of them." I get it movie. We should always believe women, even if we know and love the accused. You beat us over the head with that with Gwen and Peter's talk in the car. But human nature will almost always make people side with those whom they familiar over strangers.

The one thing I did like about the movie is the implication of the ending. When the Parcel Delivery Woman shows her tattoo to Peter, it all clicks to me. You see, Peter has been skating through life on his celebrity, wealth, and white privilege. He's basically a super hero. But now, not only was he put through a situation that no one will ever believe, he can no longer feel safe around any woman. Any woman he ever comes across could be one of the "witches". Now he knows what it feels like to be the women he has prayed on. The opposite gender could do him harm at any moment, and no one will ever believe him if it happens.

Too bad the movie did a shitty job of getting me there THREE OUT OF TEN. NEXT!

Golimar Part 1

If either of you who read me blog know me, I very much enjoy thriller and horror movies. Hell, I've found out that Sling has a ton of A Haunting episodes On Demand and I've been binging them while I get over my second head cold of the year. I especially love the psychological brand of thriller and horror movies which have multiple interpretations depending on how smart both the creator and viewer are. Over the past weekend I was able to convince the misses to watch a couple movies in this genre. As it is in my nature to be overly critical about everything, here are my reviews of the three movies I watched before I descended into a heaping pile of disease and pain.

BE WARNED: this series will contain spoilers for all 3 movies.

mother!

First of all, let me get something out of the way: Darren Aronofsky is a hack. He's basically what would happen if a hipster found out about something cool a long time ago, and instead of sitting on it like an asshole, he opts to be an even bigger asshole and re-brands it with a bunch of shitty allegories. Darren Aronofsky is to film making as Rick Bayless is to Mexican food: he'll attempt to beat you over the head about how awesome he is but in reality everything he is known for is just recycled versions of better stuff sprinkled with colonialism and none of the seasonings that came along with it.

A scene-for-scene Satoshi Kon rip does not a filmographer make.

Anyways, I was pleasantly surprised by mother! (god what an obnoxious name). If you haven't seen it, here is the plot, abridged:

We open with a girl on fire, because nothing that comes out of Stanley Tucci's mouth is ever a bad idea. We cut to Javier Bardem who places the Philosopher's Stone onto a pedestal, restoring a burnt down house with magic that would put Dumbledore to shame. It even restores a burnt up woman who turns out to be J-Law. J-Law is Javier Bardem's wife, and she's helping him fix up his childhood home which, for some reason, his magic can't seem to do. Said childhood home doesn't have any roads leading to or from it and exists basically in a huge clearing in the woods which is perfect for murdering white people in.

Javier Bardem is a poet or some shit, and he's having a hard time poeting. At one point General Hummel shows up to the house and is like "I am a fan of your work can I stay with ya'll" and Javier Bardem is like "I'm like 50 and married to a lustful J-Law who doesn't appear to own a Bra but sure old white dude stay in our house." And he stays! And starts to be an immediate asshole by smoking in their house and leaving bad reviews on Air BNB. The next day Catwoman shows up and is like "Yeah im General Hummel's wife i'm staying here too" and Javier Bardem is like "Aigh't Bet" and then she and Hummel proceed to be even bigger assholes.

12 Years a Slave was the angriest a movie had ever made me, until this scene.

J-Law tries to keep Catwoman and Hummel out of Javier's Study where he does all of his poeting but her lack of bra keeps her from moving too fast, and they proceed to break the Philosopher's Stone like a bunch of toddlers. Javier actually gets quite upset at this and kicks everyone out and boards up the room. J-Law goes to make sure Catwoman and Hummel are getting the fuck out and apparently they took it too literally as she walks in on them during a rousing round of coitus.

Before long, Catwoman and Hummel's two sons show up and argue over Hummel's inheritance, as he is dying and his oldest son is apparently a piece of shit and they're putting everything into a trust he can't access. So he straight up murders his brother in front of J-Law. The Hummels and Javier take the son to a hospital by driving their non-existent car down a non-existent road, leaving J-Law to clean up the bloody mess. The murdering son comes back, breaks in and casually takes his father's wallet, scaring the shit out of J-Law even further.

They eventually return, and Javier allows the Hummels to have a wake for their son at their house as he tells the still traumatized J-Law that "they have nowhere else to go", despite the fact that they have enough money to warrant one of their sons literally murdering his brother over their inheritance. A metric fuckton of people appear out of nowhere for the wake, and proceed to be even bigger assholes than Catwoman and General Hummel. The movie takes a dark turn as the new house guests begin to do some of the most horrific things the movie has thrown at us thus far, such putting drinks on wood without coasters, not doing courtesy flushes and making out on J-Laws bed. No, seriously. A couple decides to Rick James her sink causing it to break and J-Law loses it, kicking everyone out.

"We never do things just to do them. What would we do? All of a sudden just jump on someone's sink and grind our asses on it like it's something to do?"

J-Law finally calls Javier on his shit and basically calls him a limp dick. This angers him, and he proceeds to ravish her, which is slang for raping the willing. They conceive a baby immediately (something Catwoman had been taunting J-Law about not being able to do like the moment she stepped a foot in their house), Javier finds inspiration for his poem, and the movie decides it's just going to be a normal movie for a couple of minutes.

Sometime in the future, a very Pregnant J-Law and Javier celebrate the completion of his work and their pregnancy, when a bunch of people start showing up to the house. Then the movie remember that it was made by Darren Aronofsky and proceeds to lose it's fucking mind. I can't even begin to explain what actually happens, but it's basically that cliche footage of human history that non-human, all powerful sentient beings view when they are trying to decide if humanity is worth keeping around, except it all happens within a span 10 minutes, within the confines of J-Laws house, all while she is tossed about like a ragdoll. I'm surprised she only dislocated a single rib filming this.

CAN'T YOU SEE!? IT'S SO DAMN ARTISTIC!

Javier eventually rescues J-Law from the mayhem and they run to the boarded up study, where J-Law proceeds to give birth to their baby. Javier want's to show the cult-like following his poetry has garnered his baby, because reasons, and J-Law refuses. Unfortunately she is no match for the mighty call of sleep, and she passes out and later wakes up baby-less. Javier passes the baby around like a joint a Woodstock, and the crowd proceeds to tear it to shreds. J-Law loses it, takes a shard of glass, and starts butchering everyone in arms reach, before they overpower her. She runs into the basement, and sets the whole house a blaze, killing everyone except Javier, and burning herself to a crisp. Javier carries her to the ruined bedroom, digs out her charred heart and crushes it, creating a new Philosopher's Stone, angering State Alchemists everywhere. He places it on the pedestal, restoring the house back to normal as it did at the begin of the movie, this time with an even lesser known woman reforming in the bed, doomed to live a bra-less existence like the ones before her.

My Take

So despite my distaste for Darren Aronofsky, I truly enjoyed this movie. The impression that I gathered from it is that it is about the creation of art and it's toll on the artist. Javier is an artist and J-Law is a personification of his inner self. Many artists often disregard their own personal happiness for the sake of their work. Javier openly allowed Catwoman and Hummel to intrude on his personal space in order to find inspiration. Their grief and life experiences acted as a muse, the result of which being his child, as often a work of art is considered the child of an artist.

The later mayhem and savagery which occurs as Javier completes his piece, and J-Law is in the late stages of the pregnancy, is a allegory for criticism and the general savagery of the uncaring, insatiable audience. J-Law is run through the ringer of the criticism that her child is going to have to face once she gives birth to it. Javier, the artist, wants to show the world his child, but deep down, his inner self is not ready. The moment he releases his work? It's literally torn to bits and devoured by the audience, and they're still not satisfied.

The inner self of the artist if left behind in the ashes, and the artist digs deep down into the remains of themselves to find their heart and soul, just to do it all over again. How well did my thoughts match up with the creators?

Darren's Take

Based on my conversation with Aronofsky, and others he’s had, this is what we know about “mother!”: According to the Bible, before God created Man, there was Paradise. Lawrence is Gaia, or Mother Earth, defending the living, breathing organism she has built into a perfect home. She can’t handle or fully understand why people are being so disrespectful. Her husband in the film is God, who out of boredom creates Adam (Ed Harris) and Eve (a mischievous Michelle Pfeiffer); they invade her pristine world and the artist’s study (the Garden of Eden), which holds God’s perfect crystal (the apple). Their dueling children are Cain and Abel. And they bring in worshippers who feed God’s need for adulation (in the Old Testament, if don’t pray, you die). The worshippers keep sitting on Mother’s unsupported sink, eventually causing the pipes to burst into the Great Flood. God impregnates Mother, who gives birth to the Messiah, who is followed by an increasingly chaotic communion and Revelations. 

Mother Earth is “very much about loving and giving,” said Aronofsky. “She’s given us life on this planet. All she does is give us life. We also see nature’s wrath in the scene when Mother is attacking the crowd. The allegory is, here are these incredible infinite resources given to us and we abuse it all. We don’t follow lessons from kindergarten to clean up your own mess. We are empathizing with Mother Nature, feeling her pain and her wrath.” 

Aronofsky has been passionate about environmental causes about for a long time. “I’ve been very frustrated and filled with a certain amount rage about how much inaction is happening on my other cause,” he said, “which is how do we treat our home, our world.”
Everything is personal for Aronofsky, although he’s less comfortable with another obvious interpretation of this movie: Like him, Bardem is a blocked artist who doesn’t fulfill the serial women in his life and is distracted by seeking fame and attention. “The fame stuff is purely a side effect,” said Aronofsky. “A lot of people are seeing that. It is because we have Jennifer Lawrence, Javier Bardem, Ed Harris, and Michelle Pfeiffer dealing with the crowd, the paparazzi and autograph seekers. When I was writing I wasn’t seeking comment about that, it was about the allegorical sense of worship.”

Now, to be fair, Darren did create this movie, so the vision is 100% his, and in no way should anyone be allowed to tell someone what their movie is or isn't supposed to be. But let me remind you, that I have stated that Darren is, in fact, a hacking sack of shit, and anything he has done remotely noteworthy has been done via deception or pure luck. Outside of Catwoman's kids murdering each other over their inheritance being allegorical to Cain and Abel, nothing in this film to me stands out as being anything remotely biblical. The fact that he accidentally created a very thought provoking piece of work, and then decided to not only pigeonhole his work into a very specific interpretation, but to personally denounce any other interpretation, is mind-boggling. 

So I went into this movie ready to hate it. Came out loving it. Then Darren Aronofsky decided that, no, I should in fact hate it, because he is a piece of shit who completely misses the point of thought provoking film making.

Final Score: 8/10 2/10 out of sheer principle.

Purity at the Gates

Once again it's time for my annual blog post! Welcome friends, enemies, and frienemies alike as I type vigorously at you, challenging your sensibilities, comfort zones, and the depth of your lexicon! I'm also going to post some really stupid shit as usual, so there's that!

[Unnecessarily verbose Caption]

Back on task, today's topic is one which infuriates me to no end: Gatekeepers and Purity tests. As always, let us define our words so we're on the same page. The first word of the day is Gatekeeper, and the definitions, compliments to dictionary.com, are as followed:

Gatekeeper: noun

1. a person in charge of a gate, usually to identify, count, supervise, etc., the traffic or flow through it.
2. guardian; monitor:
   

Either definition will work for us today. When I mention gatekeepers, I am referring to them in a social and cultural sense. You know those people: the vocal people who attempt to safeguard their social and political cultures from "Outsiders." Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with protecting your personal and cultural spheres from those who wish to do them harm. More often than not, however, gatekeepers aren't so noble. Not only does unnecessary gate-keeping prevent many socially inclined phenomena from growing and gaining the people such phenomena need to remain sustainable, but it also acts to portray said phenomena in a negative light.

I get it. It's cool to be a part of something special that idiots can't ruin, and most people are idiots. Sometimes special information needs to be safeguarded. That's why secret societies, sorcerers, and intelligence agencies work in secrecy, have special membership rules and require a level of discretion that keeps their memberships low. But we're talking about social and political phenomena here, where the information is LARGELY public. This means that gatekeepers are attempting to hold a monopoly on public and readily available knowledge for no reason but to stroke their own fragile egos and to exert a irrelevant sense of power over others.

Now where have I heard of that before....

This is where Purity Tests come in. There's not a good web definition here so I'm just going to explain it to you in the best way I can. A Purity test is basically a challenge to a person's ability to exist in a sphere in which a gatekeeper wishes to refuse membership. I'll give an example in the community I want to focus primarily on: the Gaming Community.

Imagine that you're a young woman who's played video games all your life. You've had every Nintendo system known to man. You like Mario games and have played most of them. You're talking to guy and he says to you. "Oh you like Mario, huh? Well did you ever play Hotel Mario on the CDi? If you like Mario so much, what is his top run speed in Kilometers? I bet you didn't even know that The US Super Mario Brothers 2 was actually a game called Doki Doki Panic because the original Super Mario Brothers 2 was too hard for American Gamers!"

"I bet you don't even know how big Mario's dick is. NO WAIT!"

Isn't that stupid? Is that not the stupidest thing you've read today? (Trump's still president, so probably not). But that's how people are! How would you feel if every time you tried to buy something from a store you had to pass a fucking test about who invented it and how many child laborers died making it?

There is a very thin line between gate-keeping and cultural appropriation. There are plenty of people who wish to exploit and appropriate social and cultural spheres for their own gain. There needs to be some level respect and appreciation for cultural phenomena. It's one thing to be upset that you were denied a job for wearing a particular hairstyle normal within your culture while the media proclaims it as a "new" fashion trend. But it's another to claim I can't I have an opinion about a comic book movie without reading every fucking comic book ever released about that character.

No amount of comic reading will make this look any less stupid.

This is especially bad for women who attempt to enjoy gaming. Until recently, society as a whole frowned upon comics and gaming, and women, making up more than half of society, may have participated in the frowning. But I haven't seen any handsome male twitch streamers being shit on and being told they are not real gamers because they are too handsome. I mean, heaven forbid a woman to actually have breasts while she's streaming Outlast. I know there are so called "tit streamers" who take advantage of their racks to get more followers. You may think she's taking viewership away from "real" gamers, but if you want to get more followers than a buxom Red Dead player, perhaps do better than going 0-12 as Position 3 in a game of DotA, Doug. No one wants to see you feed.

The real problem, in my opinion, with gate-keeping, especially in the gaming community, is that it doesn't strive to make the community better. It would be something different if gate keepers were trying to reduce the amount of controversy and toxicity, but more often than not, it's to preserve it. People act like being verbally harassed in a Call of Duty match is some kind of right of passage for being a "true" gamer. I for one, am sure that being called a nigger because I decided not to suicide with you into a group of enemies does not enhance anyone's gameplay experience. I am certainly sure that women do not enjoy the lewd comments they receive for having a lighter voice-box and DARING to use the game-provided voice chat. I mean how dare they?

The best way to combat gate-keeping is to realize that our communities are what we make of them, and that we are not shaped by our communities, but the opposite. Our communities are stronger with heterogeneity, otherwise, we just get more of the same and nothing ever changes or grows.

RE: gಠ_ಠgle

That Google Memo is causing a major shitstorm on the intertubes. I feel like it is super relevant right now, considering the current dumpster fire's White House's attempt to cull equal rights and affirmative action.

Now this guy, James Damore (henceforth lovingly referred to as JD Fuckington III) says a whole lot of really stupid shit in his memo. I mean A LOT. I mean his stupidity is close to Next White House Communications Director level. Let's take a look at some of the dumbest things this guy wrote.

1. Women on average show a higher interest in people and men in things


WOOGIE WHAT? "Women be Shoppin'" is the like the number one most sexist joke on the face of the planet. You can't usually buy people, so what the fuck does he think women be shopping for? Even the most spartan of women have at least 30 pairs of shoes. What's worse is that he even goes on to say "Considering women spend more money than men". Which is it, Mr. Fuckington?

2. Women on average are more cooperative

AGAIN, DA FUCK? "Women always wanna be right" is like the number two most sexist joke on the face of the planet. If a woman ever seems cooperative at the work place, its probably because you're not listening or ignoring them when they speak. Not to mention Stereotype Threat, where a woman is more likely to remain silent or under perform because, oh, assholes like Mr. Fuckington think they aren't capable of doing their job!

Two statements in and I've come to a bit of a conclusion: This person has never actually met a woman.

3. Discriminating just to increase the representation of women in tech is as misguided and biased as mandating increases for women’s representation in the homeless, work-related and violent deaths, prisons, and school dropouts.

I'm sorry Mr. Fuckington, WHAT? Are you seriously saying that attempting to get more Women into a lucrative career (to normal human beings, this is usually a good thing) is equivalent to wanting women to experience more homelessness, more prison sentences, and more DEATHS?

4. Reconsidering any set of people if it’s not “diverse” enough, but not showing that same scrutiny in the reverse direction (clear confirmation bias)

What kind of oxymoronic bullshit is this? This is basically the "All Lives Matter" of diversity hiring. So because the company strives to have more diverse workers, they also have to strive to have less diverse workers or it is discrimination? How does this even qualify as confirmation bias???

5. These programs are highly politicized which further alienates non-progressives.

Diversity programs alienates Conservatives? Conservatives, as Mr. Fuckington himself stated with a huge superiority boner, who are against change? You mean to tell me, that attempting to change an industry which is dominated by men by taking active steps to include women alienates men who are afraid of change?

Mr. Fuckington's memo is text book White Male Supremacy. His thesis relies solely on studies that HE misunderstood, the assumption that everyone thinks that women and minorities are biologically inferior and that we should stop trying to shoe horn them into positions they don't deserve. This idea that a non-white non-male can't do the job causes an unrealistic expectation of perfection that no white man ever has to experience (Again, Stereotype Threat).

Example: Mass Effect Andromeda. Somehow, a studio which has made dozens of games, with dozens of staff, where only maybe 50% of them were actually good, their latest lame game somehow was blamed on, YOU GUESSED IT: 3 non-white non-male employees. How nice is it to be able to exist in society and fuck up and just be a fuck up? When a white guy gets a job, fucks up, and is fired, we move on in our lives. But let a woman or a minority fuck up and suddenly a company should re-think their hiring practices.

There was HBR Article on how, get this, Diversity negatively effects White Men! Now don't get me wrong, I know there are poorly implemented diversity initiatives which look to fill quotas and have shady hiring practices. Do I feel bad that a white dude thinks he won't get a job because he is not the right gender or color? FUCK NO!

99.99999% of the time for every aspect of their lives, white men have been and will be the right gender and color. They've had the benefit of being white men since time immemorial. The purpose of diversity initiatives are not to introduce people to industries where they do not belong, but to make up for the fact that White Men in positions of power have deliberately kept women and minorities from getting the education and support to excel in these industries. If they wanna whine about having to deal with "adversity" because of their skin color and gender, they need to remember that there are brilliant mathematicians who are still alive today who couldn't even use the same fucking bathroom.

Cradle Attraction

My wife and I are constantly debating whether we are going to have children. Will we adopt? Will we conceive? Can we conceive? We're nearing the age where it may be too late to have children, for many reasons. Reasons such as not wanting to be the geriatric lech "accused" of staring at the young girls during high school graduation. But one things for certain, it's a decision we'll need to make soon.

As a man it's pretty simple to just launch a couple of sailors into the abyss and wait for the treasure, but the real work falls on The Woman. That's a 9 month burden she will have to bear, and heaven forbid she make a god damned decision about it. One moment she's like "You know, i'd rather not have a human parasite burst from my pelvis" and the next she's like "I WANT TO BE PREGNANT RIGHT NOW" and burns her birth control in a dark fertility ritual.

If it only were so simple.

We've also talked about the option of adoption. I mean it has it's advantages. You can bypass 9 months of pregnancy hell, possibly even the stages of diaper diarrhea, projectile vomit, and toddler mayhem. I am always torn on that front, however. I definitely want to sire a new being with my Super Sperm. Who doesn't want to look down at a sweet little bundle of joy and proudly say "I created that with my penis and the soulful voice of Maxwell."

The wife assures me i'll have the same bond with an adopted child that I would with my own. "It'll be like with Beau" she says, forgetting that I am rational person and that as much as I love my doggo to death, I still see him as a damned dog. She's right though, I would love the adopted child as my own, but IF AND ONLY IF I am allowed to dramatically reveal that we are not their birth parents at some point.

Probably with more explosions

I get jealous sometimes, when I see parents out with their kids doing all kinds of fun things. I think about my own childhood; all the great things I experienced, all things I missed out on. I think about the chance to make up for that with my own kids. I think about my brother and his daughters and how much joy they bring each other. I think I would be a great dad! We'd do all kinds of cool stuff. Go to museums and to see movies, play in the park, solve mysteries. It could subject the poor child to all of my fiendish whims!

On the other hand, I think about having to be responsible for another human life. Sometimes I debate not getting off my own ass to handle my own basic needs, how can I be expected to handle the needs of a child? Hell I almost murdered my wife and I the other night making rice. FUCKING RICE. I see those stories about the horrible gamer parents and I don't think "Wow how unfortunate" I think "Well shit what If that happens to me?" That's not a good sign people! That's a lot of pressure for one inept man to handle.

The wife and I think about if we're ready to bring a child into this world. I mean, I already hate most people on this pathetic blue pearl. But with a child, I would have to actively interact with even more of them, including the murderers, rapists, furries and libertarians. As a black man, I already fear that some fragile white person will decide that I must die in order for them to not suffer a minor inconvenience, so it's not easy to contemplate subjecting my child to that fear.  Bringing another life into this world is like going to a really shitty party where people are literally dying and then calling someone up and telling them to come through.

"What's the blood curdling screaming sound? Oh its just Panic at the Disco"

I can say this; should the life of a child be thrust into my arms, despite the horrors and obstacles in this world, despite all of my fears and hesitations, that child will have the coolest fucking name in existence.

Drake Tempest
Steel Sideiron
Jax Cockburn
Lady Savage
Belladonna Murderface
Tsunami Sue

Best. Names. Ever

The Phone

A young man by the name of Donald was moving from Milwaukee, Wisconsin to Poplar Grove, Illinois to work a new job that he was to start in Rockford. It was his first job out of college, and he had little money, but was able to find a 2 bedroom home for rent which came fully furnished. Donald had not seen the house in person before agreeing to the lease, but he wanted to snag the deal before it was too late. The pictures online looked good enough for him: he led a rather spartan lifestyle and was not much for flair.

The weekend before move in day he drove down to the house to sign the lease and get the keys from the owners. The house was the center of three houses along a poorly lit gravel road off the main road leading into town. The area was enclosed by thick trees on each side that had no apparent end, the only way in and out being the gravel road. All three Houses were dutch colonials of similar design and only slightly varied in coloration. Donald assumed they were part of the same development.

Donald pulled up to the drive way where the owners stood waiting, an older couple in their late 60's, he surmised. The husband was a tall, slim and pale Caucasian with very piercing blue eyes. The woman was short and stocky, of Latina descent with streaks of gray in her auburn hair. The woman did most of if not all of the talking.

"Hi Donald I'm Dotty and this is Reginald" she said, extending her hand. Reginald simply nodded. "Now before I show you around let me remind you that everything is included in your rent: gas, electricity, water, heating etc. Please try not to run up the utilities or damage any of the furniture. Anything in excess will be taken out of your deposit. Got it?" Donald nodded in agreement and Dotty and Reginald proceeded to show him around. Donald found it odd that Reginald remained silent the entire time: not so much as a sigh or cough.

The house was simple yet well kept, with somewhat modern furniture and appliances, probably all from the early 2010s. "Now we'll be out of the country for the next few weeks so if you need anything you can go to the next house over and talk to Miss Caroline, our neighbor. She lives alone with her granddaughter. I'd introduce you but they are both away for the weekend. Any Questions?" Donald had nothing to add so they bid him farewell, Dotty with a huge, unexpected hug and Reginald with an expected, silent gaze.

The following weekend Donald arrived to his new home with a few bag of clothes and linens. There was a station wagon parked outside of Miss Caroline's house. The other house, the first on the road, remained unchanged. Donald realized he did not ask Dotty about the residents of that house. Donald shrugged it off and began to unload his car. After moving everything into the house, Donald heard a faint ringing sound coming from inside the house. Before he could act a slight knock at the door stole his attention.

Donald opened the door to see a lovely young woman, around his age standing there. Her jet black hair was pulled back into a head band from which short black curly locks erupted. Her dark skin was smooth and flawless. She greeted Donald with a gentle, toothy smile. "Hi I'm Sonya, my grandma lives next door. You're renting from the Mitchells yes?" She said, Donald noticing that the faint ringing from within the house was still going. Before he had time to speak, Sonya continued.

"My Grandma has not been feeling well recently so she asked me to help you out with what you need while the Mitchells are away" Sonya went on, as did the ringing. It seemed to get her attention as well. "I'm sorry, did you need to get that?" Donald responded confused: he wasn't sure what it was.

Donald invited Sonya in and they proceeded to find the source of the ringing, properly introducing himself along the way. The ringing continued uninterrupted, the sound growing more pronounced as the pair got close to it's source. Donald found the door leading into the basement, and upon opening the door the ringing became clear. It was a phone. He turned on the light and descended, Sonya on his heels.

The basement was unfinished and use primarily as storage. Old furniture and boxes were scattered about and covered in a thin layer of dust. The illumination provided by the single light fixture was inadequate, to say the least."Why would they have a phone down here?" Sonya pondered as she and Donald tread through the cobwebs to the source of the ringing. Toward the back of the basement was an old desk with an even older phone on it. It was an antique rotary phone. The base of the phone was shiny brass with fine engravings all over. The receiver looked to be made of brass and ivory. The receiver shook almost violently with every ring, oddly not disturbing the dust gathered around it. This was not as odd to Donald as the fact that the phone did not have a speck of dust on it; the phone cord running into a small opening in the wall behind the desk was equally clean. Everything else was covered in dust. All the while, the phone continued to ring.

"Should you answer it?" Sonya asked, looking down at the phone and back to Donald. After hesitating, Donald picked up the receiver and placed it against his ear. His greeting was initially met with silence, but he soon heard an continuous, inaudible whispering. "Who is it? What are they saying?" Sonya inquired. Donald shrugged and handed her the phone. "I think... it sounds like a person. Whatever they are saying, it's the same thing over and over." Sonya shivered and handed Donald the phone back. "This is creepy. You should hang up." Donald nodded in agreement and hung the phone up.

Donald and Sonya went back upstairs, leaving the odd phone behind. Donald continued to unpack and Sonya stuck around. She talked non-stop and asked constant personal questions, but she seemed nice and he didn't dislike her company. She invited him over for dinner with her Grandmother but he decided to head into town and pick up some food and other house needs. They exchanged cell phone numbers and she took off.

It took longer than Donald expected to unpack and get settled, so when he returned home it was late. The gravel road leading up to the homes was nearly pitch black except the dim light radiating from Miss Caroline's porch. The first house remained darkened, as if abandoned. He grabbed all of his shopping bags and headed to the door, where he could hear faint ringing coming from inside. He sat the bags down to pull out his phone for light as he could not see which keys was which. The ringing continued.

Donald finally got inside and sat his bags down in the entryway. The faint ringing coming from the pitch black bowels of the house sent chills down his spine. He flicked on the lights which brightened the room, but not his bravado. He put away all of his purchases, turning on every light he came across, the ringing going on without pause. Donald became aware that the phone had no intention of stopping, so he mustered as much courage as he could and descended into the basement. The dim light did it's best to illuminate the large basement, with small specks of moonlight seeping through the windows helping the best they could. The awful ringing continued, beckoning Donald to the back of the basement.

Donald nervously approached the phone. A single beam of moonlight shone in a nearby window onto the phone, spotlighting it ominously. Donald could feel his heart rate increasing exponentially for every second he hesitated. He let out a long sigh and swiftly picked up the phone. There was a second of silence on the other end, but that was soon replaced with incessant whispers, more audible this time.

"teaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfour" the soft voice repeated.

Donald slammed the receiver down and tried to unplug the receiver from the base, but there did not appear to be a way to do so. He tried to unplug the phone cord, but it too seemed to be manufactured into the phone. He followed the cord to its termination at the wall, but there was no apparent jack from which he could unplug it. The phone was obviously very expensive, probably worth more than his deposit several times over, so he was reluctant to damage it. With no ideas of what to do, he gave up and went upstairs. The phone remained silent for the rest of the day.

The next day Sonya came over early. She invited Donald out for lunch and to show him around town. Donald accepted and the two went into town in his car. Sonya, talkative as usual, told Donald about how her parents were military and were stationed in South East Asia but she didn't want to leave. "So that's why I'm staying with my Grandma." Donald told her about the phone ringing again and the inaudible whispers. She told him that she talked to her Grandmother about it, who said that the man in the first house, Mr. Ross, used to collect antiques, and that he must have given the phone to the Mitchells as a gift. Donald asked about the man, and Sonya's countenance changed drastically. "Well, my Grandma said he left one day about 2 years ago and hasn't been back. The lawns are tended to by a housing association that Mr. Ross, my Grandma and the Mitchells pay into monthly, and apparently he is still making payments."

Sonya soon changed the subject, asking more about Donald and his family, and after spending much of the day in town, they returned home. Sonya picked up a movie in town and convinced Donald to invite her over to watch. As they exited the car, Donald could already hear the faint sound of a ringing phone from inside the house. "Oh my God, what is going on?" Sonya said as she joined Donald at the door. When he opened the door, the sound of the ringing exploded out of the darkness of the house, louder than it had been previously. Donald flipped the light switch but the house remained in darkness.

"Donald why won't the lights turn on?" Sonya asked, griping his arm tightly. He pulled out his mobile phone to use as a light as he stumbled around the house looking for a working light with no success. "We should just leave" Sonya said nervously. The ringing was continued on, it's volume as if it was right next to them. Donald felt compelled to answer the phone and informed Sonya of his intention. She reluctantly agreed and the pair carefully descended into the basement.

The sound of the ringing became deafening once they entered the basement. They could barely hear each other speak. When they made it to the phone, Sonya and Donald looked at each other for confirmation, and then Donald picked up the receiver.

Sound exploded from all directions in the basement as if the walls were lined with speakers.

"TEAEYEINWHYYOUAREELDOTSEAOHEMSLUASHELPEAWHYYOUEIGHTSIXFOURTEAEYEINWHYYOUAREELDOTSEAOHEMSLUASHELPEAWHYYOUEIGHTSIXFOURTEAEYEINWHYYOUAREELDOTSEAOHEMSLUASHELPEAWHYYOUEIGHTSIXFOURTEAEYEINWHYYOUAREELDOTSEAOHEMSLUASHELPEAWHYYOUEIGHTSIXFOURTEAEYEINWHYYOUAREELDOTSEAOHEMSLUASHELPEAWHYYOUEIGHTSIXFOURTEAEYEINWHYYOUAREELDOTSEAOHEMSLUASHELPEAWHYYOUEIGHTSIXFOURTEAEYEINWHYYOUAREELDOTSEAOHEMSLUASHELPEAWHYYOUEIGHTSIXFOURTEAEYEINWHYYOUAREELDOTSEAOHEMSLUASHELPEAWHYYOUEIGHTSIXFOURTEAEYEINWHYYOUAREELDOTSEAOHEMSLUASHELPEAWHYYOUEIGHTSIXFOURTEAEYEINWHYYOUAREELDOTSEAOHEMSLUASHELPEAWHYYOUEIGHTSIXFOUR" a distorted, horrifying voice shouted from all over at them.

"HANG UP THE PHONE DONALD PLEASE" Sonya cried out, covering her ears with her hands. Donald located the receiver and slammed it down onto the base, and just as soon as the sound evaporated, light returned to the room. "This is insane Donald. You can't stay in this house. Let's get out of here!" Donald agreed and the two fled the basement and ran outside.

Miss Caroline allowed Donald to stay the night, but she was very old fashioned and asked that Donald remain on the main level while her granddaughter slept upstairs. Donald agreed and Miss Caroline gave him linens to sleep in the guest bedroom. Late that night he received at text from Sonya.

"Don i thnk i figured out what the phone was sayin" the message read. Donald did not receive any additional messages from Sonya, so he went to sleep.

The next morning Donald woke to bright sunlight pouring into the window. The house was quiet, with no signs of Sonya or Miss Caroline. He called out to both of them, but no one responded. He checked the drive way and Miss Caroline's station wagon was still there, and their shoes were on the rack by the door. Concerned, Donald went upstairs to Sonya's room where the door was slightly cracked. Inside he could see Sonya sitting at her desk, but she appeared slumped over.

Donald rushed to the chair and was overcome with grief upon seeing her. Her once youthful, brown face was gray and sunken. Where her eyes once rest was nothing but an empty void. One shriveled hand clutching her computer mouse tightly, the other her cell phone. Donald fought back tears as he cried out to Miss Caroline, when out of the corner of his eye he noticed something on her desk. It was the phrase that horrible phone taunted them with. Sonya had managed to make something out of it.

Before he could read it fully, the phone slipped out of Sonya's cold hands and clattered against the floor. The screen was open to a text message to him, her final words reading "DON DONT G" before ending abruptly. Guilt washed over Donald. Had it not been for him, she would be alive. She would have never ended up like this.

He couldn't explain it, but despite her warnings, he knew he had to otherwise he could not live with himself. He was not sure if he wanted to. He took a deep breath and once again looked down at Sonya's decrepit corpse wrestled the mouse from her other hand.

He opened up a browser and slowly, nervously, typed into the url that Sonya died decoding.