Trigger Warning: Learning to live with Landfall

Fig. 1: A great card, if you remember it's there

When I first put Jaddi Offshoot into my Eldrazi Ramp standard deck (similar to this list), I knew, deep down, exactly what would happen. Unfortunately, it happened almost immediately upon bringing the deck to the Oath of the Gatewatch Game Day. . .

I missed a single Landfall trigger, and it cost me the game.

Staring down my opponent's board of angry dudes, I realized that he had precisely lethal damage on me, no matter what I did to defend myself. Sitting there with two copies of Ulamog, the Ceaseless Hunger in hand and more than enough mana to cast one the following turn to stabilize, I had no choice but to concede the win to my opponent.

Fig. 2: A great card, if actually played before dying

Counting up my mana sources after the game compared to the number of times I gained 1 life, it became clear that I had missed at least 1 landfall trigger. The difference between gaining 10 life and gaining 11 life had cost me the chance to climb my way back into the game.

And this was entirely my fault.

There are limitations of a physical card game like Magic that aren't immediately apparent. Casual players of Magic will breeze right past rules violations, and if a player remembers something they missed after the moment has passed, there's always "Takebacksies", "rewindsies", and "I -forgot-that-card-was-in-playsies". In a digital card game, you literally cannot break the rules, so you don't have to worry about forgetting a triggered effect. Your Knife Juggler in Hearthstone will always remember to throw a knife when a minion enters play under your control.

In a competitive environment in a physical card game, an opponent has no obligation to respect your take-backs or slips of memory. In fact, the rules in most cases explicitly state that its your job to remember effects under your control (which may sometimes include things that don't even benefit you!). This is a generalization, but useful to remember.

The moral of the story is that if you go "oh, and I gained two life from my landfall triggers" any time besides directly after playing those lands, your opponent is fully within the rules to say "no, you missed your triggers. Tough luck." Hopefully, they're a bit friendlier about the phrasing.

That's why when I took that exact lethal damage to the face, I was thoroughly dead.

At first, coming from a mostly casual CCG (collectible card game) background and spending many of my formative years playing Magic Online, I felt something next to a grudge toward opponents that made my life difficult over missing a trigger.

Now, I recognize them as another opportunity for a player to express their total awareness of the game state and the elements of the board that work in their favor. When you leave room for player error in a game, that raises the skill ceiling and gives experienced players more ways to earn the win over less seasoned opponents.

Losing this way can be frustrating. Then again, so can losing a game to the opponent's 1-cost healing plant-wall, but I don't hear any complaints from my opponents about that. The solution to my problem was simply to be more attentive and focused the next time I play competitive Magic.

#22: The Beginner's Guide - Some post-play thoughts

I just wrapped up a play-through of The Beginner's Guide, so it seemed reasonable to resuscitate my blog and put some of my thoughts out there while the gears are still turning in my head.

The Beginner's Guide is the type of game that loses value if you know ahead of time what it is about, in a storytelling sense. It's from the creator of The Stanley Parable, but in many ways it is not, ways that become immediately apparent through the introduction of the game. I believe that the structure of TBG is flawed. Despite that, the ideas it plays with are novel to me as far as gaming themes are concerned, and should ring true to anyone doing creative work, for show or for themselves. It is a game exploring art, audience, privacy, depression, and validation from the perspective of one artist relating to another artist.

Because I cannot describe the sequence of events in TBG without reducing its value to the reader, the rest of this post will explore some of the thoughts it gave me, bubbling and churning in my mind in the hour after my play. This language is a bit more academic than I'd typically use to engage with a game, but I suppose it's not a good indie game unless it takes longer to discuss it than it does to beat it.

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Most of us assume that art is created with intent to share. No one besides the creator sees art that goes un-shared; how can one even point to an example besides one's own? This only reinforces the notion that audience and art are intrinsically related.

Where many of us go wrong, I think, is in assuming that the art is designed to illuminate something about the artist. I could point to the public-image focused society of our current moment, where flattering photos are social currency and fame is a goal in and of itself. 

A question I'm left pondering is whether an audience member for a work of art has any right to raise his or her voice above that of the work's creator, particularly if the creator elects to not use their voice. Must there be a voice? If the creator doesn't choose to ascribe a public-yet-personal meaning to the work for others to consume, is the only other option letting the audience do it instead? If that is the case, are there situations wherein the creator is better off never showing an audience at all?

The question only becomes more interesting when you consider games as an artistic medium, compared to, for example, a novel or a movie. Games are unquestionably defined by their relationship to a player. What that player does within the confines of the game are part of the art, but the key is that a player is acting within the game world. Anything beyond that, from a consistent game mechanic or even an objective of any kind, is an extension of decisions that the creator, the artist, made.

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So what happens when a game is designed with no intent to appeal to hordes of players, yet is still playable? To a creator who is unmotivated by public validation in the spheres of novel writing, filming a movie, sculpting, etc., the exchange with the reader or viewer is not coded into the definition of the medium, though it is often assumed. In fact, what with all this "unmotivated by public validation" talk, I'd say that Ayn Rand would be a great reference point for this train of thought if she didn't also have a pretty strict view of what we can even call art.

There are famous examples of writers whose work went unpublished, or artists whose paintings went undiscovered until their deaths. Do you suppose that, on their deathbeds, they did not see their work as legitimate because they did not share it? I see this as unlikely.

Do you think they did not share it because of a fear of the public's ascribed meanings and the burden of having the public misunderstand the purpose of their work? Or perhaps a fear of presenting work for public validation only to find none?

The idea of an artist creating a specifically a game entirely for themselves as a creative outlet seems to defy reasoning. We assume that games are about us, the user. Without us pressing the buttons, nothing even happens, after all.

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Let's return to that idea I started with: the notion that art is for sharing, because any artist who creates without sharing is not visible as the counterpoint. What if an artist made games only as an outlet for themselves? If these were shared against their will, is it the artist's job to justify their work's existence and give it a discernible meaning?

When J. K. Rowling uses a pseudonym to seek public validation in an honest light, that is understandable to the world. It's quite possible this would be seen differently if she stopped releasing new writing to the world altogether, or if this work were shown off without the choice to do so as part of the art.

I don't have an answer to these hypothetical questions because, as many #LiberalArtsDegree discussions end, there is no clear answer. What's more important is that I think I have a clearer understanding of the complexities between art, artist, audience, and privacy. 

An artist is not a product, nor are they, necessarily, the art.

Book Review: 33 and 1/3 - "My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy"

I’m living in the future so the present is my past

my presence is a present kiss my ass

Our culture is already bored with meta-commentary about the potential effects of the digital revolution. It’s here, it’s everywhere, it’s the water flowing over the gills of the millennial and nourishing an isolated global community of social mavens, prepared to Google-as-a-verb the meaning of the word “maven” at a moment’s notice from a smartphone, tablet, netbook, and eyeglasses. It is no surprise, then, that possibly the most influential musician of the 21^st century personifies and embraces the identity-crafting realm of the real-time and connected. It's important that any book about this musician understands the world we live in.

Kirk Walker Graves, author of the 33 1/3 entry for Kanye West’s album “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy”, assumed the burden of dissecting the eponymous album for this very reason. Why focus an intellectual analysis on an album only four years old, nearly devoid of historical context? The author sends the message that MBDTF is the first album that wraps its tendrils directly into the psyche of a society that treats socializing as preparation for personal celebrity, desiring all things immediately not just due to impatience, but because soon now will be irrelevant. Much like the album and our pop culture, the importance of Graves’ analysis cannot be understated, or delayed.

Graves shows a level of enthusiasm for his work comparable to a toddler with a leaf blower in a realm of endless cotton candy. The book begins by giving one of the best explanations of Kanye, the artist and the human, that I have yet read. It helps the reader place him within the digital culture now pervading the world that I previously mentioned. At times, Graves’ ardor lends the book a zest for cultural context that informs the reader of even the most implacable song-sample or lyrical choice. There is a clear appreciation for sociological an anthropological meaning here as well; the many aspects of Kanye and the individual works within MBDTF are frequently described in terms of America’s love-hate response to His ego and ambitions. If you’ve ever felt there’s a fiendishly clever quality to the production of pop-friendly or nearly-pop-friendly songs like “All of the Lights” or “Runaway”, Graves is more than happy to validate you. In most cases, I found myself a convert.

That is not to say that this issue of the 33 1/3 series is without its faults. It feels that on occasion, Graves digs too deep to strike oil on analyses; it’s important that you agree with Graves on the conclusion that Kanye is intractably intertwined with the music he produces, or else all the talk of Kanye’s narcissism and aplomb in the text can become frustratingly psychoanalytical. However, to Graves’ credit, he generally avoids jargon and thesaurus-bombs in favor of flowery and just-short-of-excessive description, leaving it accessible to most learners interested in all the hoopla about Mr. West.

“My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy” (the book) is a superb look at how our society is feeding the Kanye machine, producing great works of maximalist conglomeration (as well as Yeezus, which even the author admits lacked the initial vitality of MBDTF). When Graves then opens up the machine to give the readers a look at the parts, he proves his credentials. In homage to his imagery-thick writing style, I offer my personal interpretation of his thesis, for you to decide whether or not to read his book:

Kanye is a pop-culture golem accumulating the discarded love and scorn of the public eye, screaming from the mountaintop of public consciousness, Wi-Fi enabled, spotlights overhead, clutching a fistful of forgotten hooks and blistering verse, daring the cameras to look away. He is a one-man 24-hour news cycle channeling the ferocity of a boundless ego, repressed by men in suits in corner offices and sitting at talk-show desks. He’s producer, pariah, artist, child, deity, caricature and soon-to-be-king of pop all in one, and MBDTF is the promise.

#21: Loadout - Loads of Fun, Like 2001

Loadout has come out of nowhere to become one of the most popular free-to-play games available on Steam. What's it about? What's the draw of another free shooter?


Simple. Over-the-top, Quentin Tarentino-level violence combined with an addictive weapon building system and combat that rewards the bloodthirsty instead of punishing them for leaving cover.


When considering the appeal of Loadout, remember that gaming has changed in the last decade or two. Loadout reminds those of us that can remember 1 gigabyte hard drives of how drastically first person shooters have changed. Games like Quake, Tribes and Unreal Tournament focused on ultra-fast movement, precision aiming and adrenaline-fueled deathmatches. Since then, the FPS genre has leaned toward Call of Duty and Battlefield style gameplay: fast deaths and a gritty sensibility grounded in reality. Loadout flips the table by combining ideas from both styles into a delicious 4v4 layer-cake of guns and more guns while pulling the camera back to a 3rd-person perspective.


The first thing a Loadout player must do is craft their starter weapons. Though you won't be able to do anything too over-the-top yet, you'll have access to options almost as good as anything a longer-time player can craft, if not the same in function.


For example, you can see in the screenshot below that I've crafted a bizarre rocket launcher named via Zoolander reference. Let me break down the most important parts for you:

Six is better than one, ask anybody!

• Scope: Laser Guidance System - While zoomed in, I project a laser that steers my rockets.
• Barrel: Hexabarrel - I have six rockets.
• Damage Type: Pyro - Instead of dealing all of the damage upfront, these rockets have a damage boost in exchange for dealing a large portion of it as damage over time.
• Ammo Type: Scuttle - The rockets crawl along the ground toward their target, a la Legend of Zelda bombchus.
• Shell: Bouncy - If they hit a surface that isn't a player, they will bounce in a new direction.

I could easily have made this gun even wackier by having a Salvo trigger that lets me load all six rockets at once, or a flak-cloud dispersal on detonation. Here's the fundamental question: is this gun better than a basic SMG or sniper rifle anyone can craft with little effort?


Absolutely not. In fact, this gun is quite difficult to kill anyone with. Every time you add some zany attribute to your gun, its stats adjust accordingly. And that's one aspect of Loadout: experimenting with weaponcrafting and realizing that you will make a lot of stupid guns. 

Hmmm. . . My scalp feels. . . hot. 

Once you're in game, you've got three movement options: run, dodge-roll, and jump, all of which are highly advised. Jumping after a roll gives you an extra high jump. The landscapes in Loadout seem intentionally designed with high-jumpable elevations and a sticky quality that lets skilled players climb or chain jumps in ways that reward mastery of the maps. 

Each player's gunplay experience will be different based on their weaponcrafting preferences. That said, riddling opponents with bullets, rockets, cannonballs, or lasers is universally satisfying, with a high pitched hit-confirm sound that you will learn to love hearing. Whether you're adjusting for recoil on your Heavy-style minigun or trying to line up the crosshairs on your bolt-action sniper, it just feels right. 

 The modes in Loadout already put some other FPS selections to shame. There's Blitz, where players rush from point to point trying to claim control. Deathsnatch requires the players to pick up a vial left behind by dead players to count the kill, allowing teammates to deny eachother. Jackhammer tasks the teams of 4 with playing capture the flag, except the flag can be slammed into the ground for a massive radius that kills opponents instantly up to 5 times. Think Gravity Hammer from Halo, except better. This twist finally makes grabbing the flag in Capture the Flag fun, and the flag runner dangerous. 

Sometimes, you just gotta stand your ground.

Annihilation, the "competitive mode" (though ranked matchmaking has not yet been enabled), combines all three of the above with an overall point system, a stat-buffing system that accumulates a stat of your choice across the game session, and a final relay-race with the jackhammer that is about as intense as it gets. A+ for creativity.

Excavation places several carts around the map and litters the terrain with blue chunks of crystal; the role of "Excavator" is rotated among team members on each team. This person must run around collecting these crystals and returning them to carts. While carrying, they cannot fire a gun. These chunks of crystals are volatile, and will explode 2 seconds after a few shots, even while being carried. This mode really rewards mastery of the map.

They also recently added Domination, which is a simple 3-hill King of the Hill mode. You've probably seen it before, but it's still fun.

Gruesome death animations are frequent.

One aspect of Loadout I am particularly impressed by is the attention to detail. When you get hit, your character is visibly, disgustingly maimed. But this detail stretches to tiny gameplay quirks: while on fire, rolling puts it out faster. Tesla damage drains shields quicker. Taunting while capturing a point captures it 10% faster, but leaves you vulnerable. Players can shoot down rockets, making slow propulsion but high damage rockets a risky move. The list goes on.

The game is funded by cosmetic purchases for one of three base characters. You can buy boosts that allow you to gain points faster like in many games, but you cannot directly purchase any points for building weapons.

I'm not all praise, though: it can be a disappointment when you realize that certain gun parts or wacky combinations are simply not as good as more tried-and-true arrangements, which stifles diversity. I rarely see anyone using shotgun-style weapons because the melee attack is so strong. Some of the more interesting equipment in the game requires a hefty investment of earned in-game currency to access, leaving fresh players out in the cold against tricks such as disguises or portable spawn points. The game is also limited to 4v4, and certain modes are abysmal on certain maps (Jackhammer on Shattered, for example). And lastly, if you're a fan of military shooters in which a few bullets results in death, you may take issue with the hardiness of the players in Loadout. 

Still, I find that Loadout is one of the most enjoyable shooters I have played in the last several years. With sessions that last fifteen minutes or less and a focus on casual modes that maximize fun, it's the perfect antidote for the gamer who just cannot handle another high-stakes game of Call of Duty or Counter-Strike. It's a free-to-play game that I can recommend to almost any gamer familiar with shooters.

4/5

#20: Bioshock Infinite: Burial at Sea Episode 1 - DLC Worth Digging Up

Downloadable content rarely receives the same scrutiny as its parent game. It’s not quite taken for granted that DLC is a bad value, but it is certainly a creeping suspicion of the informed consumer. It’s refreshing, then, that Burial at Sea – Episode 1 offers a bite size portion of the main course instead of the tasteless imitation some have come to expect.

Burial at Sea drops the player into Rapture, the underwater objectivist utopia from the first two Bioshock games, right as society seems to be a powder keg ready to blow. You’re still Booker DeWitt, but this time you work as a private detective hired by Elizabeth to . . . well, I’ll stop there. In such a story driven game, the less I share, the better.

The game offers fans of the first two Bioshocks an illuminating glimpse into the day-to-day life inside Rapture before its collapse. Citizens discuss the pressing issues of the day as you walk by, generously heaping story fodder for series vets and setting the stage for those who started with Bioshock: Infinite. Rapture looks noticeably more pleasant when the lights are on, the water stays outside, and hulks in diving suits aren’t trying to skewer you with their drill-fists. Of course, the ugliness is still there, underneath.

The environments are astonishingly detailed.

The gunplay remains benign, with a minor selection of firearms that behave more or less as you’d expect. Luckily, plasmids (or vigors, for those who have never been to Rapture) make a return, giving players a way to ignite, freeze, electrocute, and in general channel their inner Avatar. While many sing Bioshock: Infinite’s praises, I have never found the combat terribly satisfying, especially compared to earlier entries in the series. In a concession to players like me, the “weapon wheel” returns. This simple device allows players to hold all of their weapons at once and switch between them easily on the fly, to my relief. I’m of the opinion that only being able to hold two guns makes sense in some FPS games, but much like it felt anti-fun in Duke Nukem Forever, I felt the same in Infinite.

This scene? Hidden and totally optional.

Burial at Sea – Episode 1 is a campaign that I’ve heard others claim they completed in less than two hours. While I can certainly understand a “point A to point B” playthrough being so thoroughly abbreviated, that is a blistering pace compared to my own. I stopped to absorb every conversation, every environmental detail, every secret. I ended up taking four hours. I imagine the length of a playthrough will vary drastically based on whether one is just playing a shooter or exploring Rapture.

Featuring a fan favorite setting, tried-and-true combat, and even a cool battle with a Big Daddy, Burial at Sea – Episode 1 also sneaks in exposition as far as the eye can “sea” (get it? Sea? Rapture’s at the bottom of the sea. I’ll see myself out). It’s well polished and worthy of the Bioshock name, but could be a bit short for some players’ tastes. To mitigate that, one thing is certain: you’re much better off splurging on the season pass containing all DLC for $20 than paying $15 a la carte for part 1 of Burial at Sea. Now go get it, and try and wrap your head around that ending. 

Book Review - 33 and 1/3: "Doolittle"

You can barely throw a limited-run vinyl without hitting a band that claims to be influenced by the Pixies. They stand as one of the most brashly innovative alt rock bands even to this day. As Ben Sisario points out in his entry in the 33 and 1/3 series, “Doolittle”, the seminal album by the same name is so irreplaceable that not only is it never duplicated, it’s rarely even imitated. Even bands that proudly invoke the Pixies heritage seem unwilling or unable to display their bloodlines loud and proud.

So then, why did this album released in 1989 by a small alt rock band sell more copies after their dissolution than during their heyday? Why do their stop-go songs sprinkled with nigh-unintelligible lyrics reeking of sex, death, violence and rage resonate so persistently? Sisario, impressively, comes as close to pinpointing the answers as anyone ever may, combining the style of a storyteller and the attention to detail of a historian.

His book alternates from scenes of personal discussion with lead singer Charles Thompson to insightful and incisive backgrounding on the state of alt rock and the industry. Even for readers with not the slightest clue of why they should care about the Pixies, Sisario presents a compelling case for why the Pixies were and to some extent still are avant garde. You don’t even have to like them. After reading and listening to Doolittle, you will at minimum respect their contributions.

Sisario has the advantage of studying and personally speaking with Charles Thompson at a time providing clarity of hindsight. Thompson and his band have since reunited in 2004 for touring and begun producing new music only recently, though with a slightly shuffled roster.

Pixies songs have long perplexed listeners with their lyrics. Thompson explains his inspiration and songwriting process in detail, reaffirming some claims he’s made all along while at other times providing glimpses into authentic meanings. Citing surrealist filmmakers as influences on his style, Thompson might have lost the reader if it weren’t for Sisario’s constant and highly welcome explanation.

While Sisario occasionally includes the terse input of guitarist Joey Santiago, drummer David Lovering had little to offer and estranged bassist Kim Deal seems to have stonewalled any attempts to include her side of the Pixies story. A regrettable exclusion, though it does not noticeably impact Sisario’s ability to explain why the music itself matters. In fact, he admirably avoids mucking most of the book with personal interjection until the very end, where his 121-pages-proven musical chops give him more than enough clout to draw some conclusions.

Readers of “Doolittle” might find themselves surprised, impressed, taken aback, disappointed, or all of the above. It will depend largely on their existing knowledge of the Pixies. Musical pariahs who have long claimed Pixies songs to be overrated strummings behind rambling incoherence might find themselves googling “un chien andalou.” On the other hand, members of the if-you-haven’t-heard-the-Pixies-you-don’t-really-know-about-music-at-all club might find themselves ever so slightly disillusioned. Sorry guys, “Silver” really doesn’t mean anything. Even Thompson himself doesn’t know what it’s about, describing the lyrics as “throwaway rhymes.”

Sisario’s thesis on Doolittle is incredibly approachable, weaving personal encounters of the alt rock-kind with well-researched conclusions and elaboration. He leaves even the completely oblivious with a rock solid grasp of why musically inclined folks can’t seem to shut up about the Pixies, while at the same time satiating alumni with fascinating minutiae and inside stories from the band. I would go so far as to say that this little analysis stands as a necessary companion for any owner of “Doolittle”, an album that will forever mark a paradigm shift in alt rock history.

Music Review: Avicii - True-ly Great

Avicii has made a name for himself ahead of the release of his first full album through a string of hit singles including “Seek Bromance, “Fade Into Darkness”, “Levels” and “I Could Be The One”. Indeed, being personally invited to a weekly residency in Ibiza by none other than dance music king Tiesto himself is a sign you’re on your way up. Luckily for just about everyone, Avicii’s newest album lives up to the hype and delivers (almost) twelve infectiously danceable tracks.

The album opens with his teaser single, “Wake Me Up”, immediately catching the listener with his or her guard down. It’s twangy, it’s country, but it’s still got the up-tempo thump and bump that keeps one expecting something more. It’s a dance song, after all; there’s always something more. Amidst the wobbled strums of probably-a-banjo, pensive vocals belt out between choruses that make any room without a dance floor feel incomplete. “Wake Me Up”, more than any other song on the album, is a foolproof crowd pleaser.

“You Make Me” features a ferociously pounded piano beat paired with standard up-and-down synth, punctuated by sections of falsetto calm. An enjoyable foray into angry 88-key instrumentation, but mostly just above average filler.

“Hey Brother” returns to the fascinating country-dance fusion, opening with over thirty seconds devoid of any variety of synth and taking nearly two full minutes to achieve dance frenzy status. This is an eternity in dance music time. Still, while the horns triumph during the few sections conceding supposed genre of the album, the song drives home Avicii’s unique, uncompromising style. Dance music needs more of that.

“Addicted to You” continues the trend, with throaty female vocals reminiscent of Florence or Adele alongside well-balanced piano and bass. It is at this point that a listener who is not a fan of dance music might realize the feat the album has pulled off: you can just listen to it and tap your foot sometimes, if you prefer. The song transitions passively into “Dear Boy”, where velvety and passionate Lana Del Ray vocals feel as if lifted from a dusty record, placed between now-you’re-talkin’ bouts of dirty, wobbly thumps and synth. A song that pushes all the right buttons, but might be a tad too long.

The anger of “Liar Liar” stands in contrast to the prior moodiness. Svelt female vocal amalgamations alongside Avicii’s new pet piano build the listener up. In chorus, one man’s angry claim summons the only organ solo in recent memory into a dance music album.

A vague flavor of enthusiastic ragtime boogie lingers around “Shame On Me”, with a faster tempo that invites vigorous footwork almost enabling swing dancing, of all things. A merry arrangement of prior-mentioned ingredients are featured here, but overall this song is somewhat stale.

“Lay Me Down” is a throwback, a nod to the days of “Sweet Dreams” and “Stayin’ Alive” being dance floor material. Austin Powers would feel at home. “Hope There’s Someone”, on the other hand, opens with over a minute of emotional, bare-bones female vocal solo, building alongside that piano again into a drop into nothing but vocals, into the final drop that would no doubt cause a frenzy in a live venue if for no other reason than the nearly five minute wait.

“Heart Upon My Sleeve”, while overall dull and lacking vocals, at least offers an attention-grabbing choice on Avicii’s part: angsty cellos find their home in front of standard wubs, ticka-tickas, bonks and synth-waves.

Sadly, the album ends on somewhat of a weak note, with “Canyon” offering a by-the-numbers dance floor beat. “All You Need Is Love” similarly offers fare that’s enjoyable yet forgettable, though it at least has pleasant vocal injections to prevent the album from ending on a completely sober, inhuman note.

Avicii’s first full album, “True”, is somehow accessible while incorporating elements in directions other dance musicians may not have even considered treading, let alone feared. It stops short of greatness at the precipice, but that’s what playlists are for. Your party probably wasn’t going to feature only Avicii anyway, right?