Video Game Review: "The Stanley Parable" and "The Beginner's Guide"

        I'm about two days out from going through both "The Stanley Parable" and "The Beginner's Guide", and I have to say: I'm not really sure what to write. That isn't because I don't have opinions about either one, for I have thousands of words worth of opinions about them (though that won't be the length of this review), but more because my describing what happens inside of each doesn't really do them justice. I may have found the first pieces of media that I think may actually be lessened by finding out a lot about them before you actually interact with them. Normally, I don't care about spoilers,  but the very nature of both of these games make your own, personal experience with each immensely important. So, this isn't going to seem like a typical video game review. I"m not going to mention the fidelity of the graphics, or the capabilities of the AI, or even how well optimized they are (since they're both PC games). Instead, I'll talk about something just as relevant to these two games, but wholly separate. If you get around to playing both (and I do recommend you play both), it may make sense why I chose this route for the review.
     If I were to look back at my own life, I would see that my own experiences have totally influenced the way I create art. I mean, that seems totally obvious, but I suppose it's one of those things that is more profound on a personal level than we may think. Now, I wouldn't say my childhood was tumultuous, as I did have two loving parents. What I will say, though, is that they certainly had some bad habits that didn't make things to terribly easy. Being quick to anger or overreacting to situations with an overabundance of anxiety or aggression; speaking ill of the other to my brother and me; arguments that amount to just being prolonged screaming matches; some combination of these things, these were more common occurrences than I would have liked. So, these things had an influence on the way I interacted with my family and the way I would think about myself. Knowledge became a refuge, as did logical reasoning and philosophy. I would listen in on their arguments to find the holes in logic in whatever they said so that I wouldn't be caught in the same traps. At the same time, I had an immensely low self esteem. Add to that the leagues of pent up aggression I had within me that I didn't know how to handle and, the massive range of emotions I had, and you have a recipe for one distraught, but intelligent person.
        Now, all that wasn't just to elicit some sense of pity from you, but more for the important fact that all of these things influenced the way I started creating art. I would go so far as to say that the articles on this blog certainly are art, so it goes even further into that, deep into the very way I reason my thoughts. That being said, one would be a bit remiss to think that those words you read are a 100% representation of myself. Even more, don't think that there isn't some small level of validation that comes from my checking the data on my Blogger page for this blog, and seeing that people have viewed/read the entries. There definitely is a sense of achievement in that, as well as with my YouTube channel. Tied up in all that is a sort of subtle, but sick kind of thing. There's an addiction there, one to that sense of validation from creative output. That's something that weighs on me a bit, given my predilection to modesty, thanks to my religious beliefs as a Christian. I can admit that I do value that validation that comes from my output, but that doesn't mean that I condone it, in the end. There's a sense of disappointment of self that goes along with it. If I'm going to be totally honest, that was part of the reason I eschewed making this a "normal" video game review. To pursue a different path in the hopes of discovering something new about either writing, or myself.
        I don't know if it was successful. Maybe I misconstrued much of what I meant to say, so it may come off as attention-seeking, or arrogant, or deeply pretentious. I can accept that. I mean, those are wholly valid takes on this. You may be more right, than not. A large part of me writes these as a therapeutic act, as well as the previously stated purpose. It involves the exploration of  ideas for the sake of peace of mind. Maybe I should be more expository? My fascination with logic, and reason, and art, and God all stemmed from my upbringing. Humor can be a bit of a defense mechanism, so I like to throw in some here and there in what I write and make. I have a very strong desire to be clearly understood, so I can tend to be a bit long-winded. I have a pretty substantial fear of rejection, so perhaps some of what I make ends up subconsciously pandering more than I may want it to. Maybe it's this openness, this sense of truly letting down my walls, that I really am seeking.
        "The Stanley Parable" and "The Beginner's Guide" reflects so much of  everything I just wrote. The exploration of why we do what we do, and the implications therein; the sense of validation that comes from sharing what we do and why we feel that; even more, the reasons why we ask those very questions. There are sure to be many different interpretations of what takes place in both games, and even more, some may be inclined to not even call them games at all due to their very nature. I, obviously, would be inclined to disagree. Not only are these two games, but I'd say they're two of the smartest games ever made. Not only using the conventions of video games within itself, but exploring the very core of those things at the same time. So powerful was its effect upon me that I felt compelled to write this very thing, and explore those same themes and how they manifest within myself.
         
     

A Gamer by Any Other Name

        So, full disclosure: I'd never heard the word "gamer" until I was about 21. I'm currently 25 (26 here on the 23rd of October). I found it in the articles and comment sections of game review sites and YouTube videos, it almost functioning as a sot of banner people carried. Whether it was speaking on what "gamers wanted from their games" to "gamers being well represented in mainstream culture", gamers certainly seemed to be a very real thing. At least online. The thing is, I haven't met a single flesh-and-blood human who has verbally expressed this identification with the term "gamer". It's not that I think they don't exist (I'm more than certain that they do), but I say it to preface my next statement: despite having played video games for nearly 22 years, I could never call myself a "gamer."
         What conditions make a "gamer" a "gamer?" Is it just the mere act of playing video games? What of tabletop games such as "Dungeons and Dragons", or "Magic: The Gathering?" Many would seriously argue yes. We could go further, though. What of poker, blackjack, roulette , or any other form of gambling? Those are, often, games of skill with large communities, much like the traditional definition of "gamer." What of people who play physical sports? Football, baseball, futbol, angling, archery, and many more sports are all games with rules and regulations, and all of the requisite communities. So, clearly, video games don't hold a monopoly over organized play with a large community following. So, if that's the case, certainly any person in any of the aforementioned activities could call themselves a "gamer."
         Even with that, while I like all kinds of games, I never saw the need to identify with the activity as a form of identity. I don't see a need to be defined by my enjoyment of a hobby/artform. That isn't to talk down to those who do, and seek the communities therein. Humans are social, so you will likely find communities for any and all activities and interests. Even more, within gaming (henceforth we'll be referring to video games) there are communities for specific genres of game, even down to specific games and even characters.
        With all that considered, what is it that keeps me from identifying as a "gamer?" I'm thinking that it has to do with how I consume media. For one, I don't do fandoms. I can't. Not one part of me engages in a sort of higher level, group consumption of media. Playing video games, watching movies, and general consumption of art was almost a solitary activity for me as a kid, so the idea of identifying as a member of a group dedicated to talking about and consuming any piece of media is a wholly alien concept to me. I see being a "gamer" as being a part of a fandom, this fandom obviously around games as a whole. I don't see that as a bad thing, necessarily, but it's something that just doesn't jive with me.
        Perhaps, it's the fact that I apply a distance to myself and the art I consume. I really like art, otherwise this blog wouldn't exist, but I am far more concerned with its construction than consuming it. Not to mention there is such a broadness to fandom and the title of "gamer" that I'm not even certain I could apply it to myself. How many games do I play to "officially" be a "gamer?" How long do I have to play games? Hours? Weeks? Years? Do I have to like ALL games? Only twitchy, first-person-shooters? How about a labyrinthine real-time-strategy game against the top players in the world? I could continue this for hours.
        There is one big thing that really seals the deal on my not identifying as a "gamer": there's the reality that we ALL are "gamers." Yes, every single one of us is a "gamer," top to bottom. Now, you may be sitting a bit slack jawed, incredulous to my nerve for saying such a thing. Yes, I do admit it's a bit of a "pet theory" but if you don't believe in your own ideas, then who will? Yeah? Yeah.
        So, some areas that influenced this opinion are Game Studies and Play Studies, two areas of major importance if your looking to get into game design. I won't go into tons of detail about these two subjects (they have literally VOLUMES of text within them) but, essentially, humans use play at every life stage. Now, many things can be classified as play and there are many different thoughts on what play even is. Add to this the multiple definitions of what constitutes a game, and we can easily see how things can get quite complicated. Essentially, we can turn ANYTHING into a game. "How quickly can I wash these dishes?" "How soon can I make it to work?" "How many articles of clothing can I fit into this basket to wash?"
        There is one major counterpoint: games tend to be outside of reality, as in their result has no major implications upon real life. Well, I'm inclined to think that's kinda bunk. People who are professional athletes, or play any game professionally, definitely see a major impact on their life from the results of each game. We don't then say "well, he makes his money from playing the game of soccer, so that can't be a game, now." So, with that in mind, I say we all are intimately concerned with games. Games and play are a major way for us to interact with each other and with the world around us. Even more, we tend to love structure and form, and games tend to be all about that in their structure. We are all "gamers", so I don't see a need to make a special group out of it. It just becomes redundant.
        I'm certain there will be many who will have read this and would have vehemently disagreed with me. That's cool. I'm down with dissenting opinions on art and whatnot, as it stirs on discussion. When all is said and done, you won't see me ever standing up for "gamers" beyond just basic consumer advocacy. I do think the designation is a bit of a redundancy, but I don't begrudge you if you find yourself identifying with it. What matters is that we both have a major appreciation for the art form, and hopefully that appreciation spurns on more interesting conversation on what the medium is capable of.      

     

The Kiind of Plug That's Shameless

YouTube has been one medium that has grown tremendously in the past decade. Channels for every topic under the sun have sprung up, with just as many personalities behind them. Some offer educational resources, others offer topical conversation, and others just pure entertainment. Yet, one area that has seemed to rise to the top of the heap is gaming. The top 100 gaming channels have brought in billions views, the top of THAT heap belonging to Felix Kjelberg (AKA PewDiePie), who has 39,308,823 Subscribers and a total of 10,102,088,800 views. For comparison, the official YouTube channel has only around 23 million Subscribers. 

So, clearly, there is something to this. There's something to this new form of entertainment, wherein viewers watch other people play games.What pulls so many toward it? Is it the personalities behind the channels? Is it the fact that gameplay is being shown? Is it the idea of it being akin to watching a friend play a video game? I would wager that it's some combination of those ideas. With that being said, it is here that the titular "Shameless Plug" comes out. 

I actually have a YouTube gaming channel. Granted, I'm no PewDiePie, but the intent to entertain is the same. Actually, I've technically had two channels, though this is by renaming one. Initially, it was called "FREDHEADEDED", and I played a small variety of games with a fairly dubious recording equipment: my IPad, in a case, sitting on a box in a chair, and with the camera facing my television. The video quality was awful, and was always somewhat off-center. All the same, I had quite a lot of fun with them. I learned a lot about the editing process and working with a limit on time and resources, and gained a great deal of knowledge on efficiency. After a while, though, it became impossible to continue due to greater restrictions on resources (my IPad wouldn't store data properly). With that came a bit of a hiatus for several months.

That is, until this past month. Thankfully, I was able to acquire a laptop, video recording software, and a fairly decent microphone, all dramatically improving the quality of my videos. I even renamed the channel from "FREDHEADEDED" to the simpler "Fred Head" (SHAMELESS LINK TO MY CHANNEL: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCja8slhpiCV6je5T4wZDxoA )  This came from more research on marketing analytics, an area of immense importance if one is looking to create and promote content on YouTube. I'd imagine that, as I continue to do this, I'll eventually do a write up on the nuances of YouTube gaming and Streaming gaming (like those done via Twitch, another outlet specifically geared around streaming video of people playing games). 

These channels are everywhere and increasing rapidly. In fact, they are growing so much that I could no longer ignore it and had to at least make an attempt to take part. With that, It is my hope to learn more about the intricacies of a thing like YouTube, while also creating content that I would also want to watch.  

Micro Review: IT FOLLOWS and EX MACHINA

The power of IT FOLLOWS lies in how well it uses every element of itself. The blocking, music, lighting, acting, camera movements, and editing work in a way many films don't, making everything in it all the better as a result. Maika Monroe stars as Jay Height, a girl who, after having sex with her sort-of boyfriend Hugh (Jake Weary) becomes haunted by a creeping specter that can take the form of anyone. Only she can see it, and the only way to get rid of it is to have sex with someone else and pass it on. The catch is, if that new victim gets killed by it, the specter will come back to Jay, then to Hugh, then on and on to the very first person.

We are put right into the seat of the tension of the characters from the very first moments of the film. A camera sees a house in the distance and we sit in the street. A girl exits the home and begins running to the right, as Disasterpiece's dark, synth-heavy score purrs in the background. The camera follows her in one slow, deliberate movment, turning as if on a carosel. She stops in the middle of the street and stares back at the home, fear obvious on her face. She then runs further to the right and back around to the house and then inside. The carosel the camera is on continues. She exits the house again with keys, jumps into what can only be her father's car, and speeds off, the camera pursuing slowly. Disasterpiece's score goes from a purr to a roar. Next, we see her sitting on a beach, back to the water, and illuminated by the headlights of the car. She's talking to her father on the phone, appologising for making various mistakes. We cut to her P.O.V. and we can see the woods near the beach illuminated with red light by the break lights on the car. The score begins to pound and knock, growing in volume until near bursting. Just before it becomes too much, we cut to the same girl in the daytime on the same beach, but she is pale and very dead. She lies upon her back, legs snapped so severely that the bone is exposed. 

This sets us up for the rest of the film. The camera serves to put us in the seat of the specter as well as the characters, while also functioning to provide tension. Slow pans to suggest the specter is moving, showing the specter just out of sight of the characters but completely in sight of the audience, and providing just enough information at any given moment to open the audience up to wild speculation of what will happen next. IT FOLLOWS serves as a master class in modern suspense and horror. 

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EX MACHINA is a film comprised of questions, and it isn't entirely keen on answering them.   

Domhnall Gleeson plays Caleb, an employee of the world's largest tech company, who is chosen to fly to the island of the company's CEO. While he thinks he is merely there as a sort of vacation, the CEO, Nathan (Oscar Issac) reveals that Caleb is actually there to perform a modified Turing Test on an A.I. he's been working on. That A.I. is given the name Ava, and her performance by Alicia Vikander is the focal point of this film. 

Vikander finds a way to imbue Ava with so much: joy, sensuality, fear, power, and some combination of them all. It's this very performance which fuels the main questions it asks of the viewer, namely "Who is the 'good person' in this film?" Since Caleb is the protagonist, wer're inclined to empathaize with him and his perspective, but there is a strong reading that suggest that he may not as pure as he seems. Often we see full-body reflections of the characters upon glass surfaces, and that happens enough that I think there is thematic meaning to it. 

Every character has a duality to them. Nathan claims to want to create the latest form of A.I. but, by doing so, reveals his toxic view of women, as he makes every model of the A.I. as a conventionally attractive woman that he deactiviates when they deviate from what he wants and he turns them into objects of his pleasure. Caleb, our protagonist, seems to be a "good person" who takes issue with many of the things Nathan does...but remains somwhat neutral (which is totally a form of action) except in the case of Ava. Through a dream sequence, we see that he sees himself and Ava together romantically, even though he has only known her for less than a week, and has spoken to her less than five times. Even more, Ava is a composite of his internet search history, so she's literally a projection of his desires. In his desire to save her, he strokes his ego, especially since he doesn't have the same desire to save the other A.I. that also exists. Finally, with Ava, we have a wholly different perspective. While Nathan and Caleb had their own projections they put upon Ava, she has one desire: freedom. Nathan keeps her in a litteral box, and Caleb only sees her personhood within the context of a romantic relationship, so her rebellion and the means through which she does it makes complete sense to me. 

Is what she does at the end totally warranted? Does Caleb deserve what happened? Were there an abundance of similarities between Caleb and Nathan that Caleb subtly accepts? The film doesn't make any of it too clear, and I'm inclined to think that your answer to these questions says more about yourself than the film. 

Level Grinding, Grinding Gears

I can say with certainty that I have a deeply rooted love/hate relationship with "level grinding" in RPGs (Role playing games). On the one hand, I can see the intent. It seems to be an extension of tabletop games, like "Dungeons and Dragons", what with all the the numbers representing different attributes of your character. Those very numbers can be increased through myriad activities within the game. In the case of many RPGs, it's through combat and the use of those abilities that does this.

Then, there's the aspect of it being the means through which the player interacts with the content of said game. Interactivity is the way we engage with a game (moving characters around, going through menus, etc..) and, in the case of RPGs, represents the growth in skill. For example, let's take the game "Final Fantasy VII." In it your characters move around the larger part of the game world viabin what's called and Overworld (or at least, I call it that), and within each town or cave there are smaller areas as well. On the Overworld and some of these smaller areas, moving the character around the screen can trigger random moments of combat from unseen opponents.

Each battle uses menus and statistics (the amount of health characters have, any negative effects that may have come upon them, when it's their turn to attack) to allow the player to have an easily observable means of keeping up with what's happening. From here, it can even be argued that the random encounters serve to metaphorically refer to the journey the characters are going on as an almost short hand. Grinding then is the focused effort to use all of these means to increase the combat viability of the characters you control.

On the flipside (because you know there was going to be one), there is a distance between this and the story within the game. It almost feels as though I'm engaging in two wholely different activities: I'm engaging in a game similar to older tabletop games, and I'm viewing this story being told. Obviously, the gameplay and story relate to each other, as I'm playing as characters from the story, but for characters to not even mention all the progress they're making in their abilities and physicality only seems to alienate the two. I can fight a boss, almost lose, escape, level grind, come back, then beat them. After all that, not one character will mention the near death and act of focused training. The player has to engage with and disengage from the story to interact with the menu based portions, then vice versa.

Now, that isn't to say I'm wholey against any of this (as FF9 is one of my favorite RPGs of all time, and it has some of the same issues as FF7), but more to say that I have some frustrations with the way it's done. There have been games that have attempted to find a unity between the story aspects and the menus. "Infamous: Second Son" comes to mind as a more recent example. The main character in it can upgrade his different abilities, and the player ineracts with this aspects via a series of menus. The thing is, the character actively acknowledges that they can upgrade their abilities and even mirrors the player's desire for more strength and capability. It's a small thing, but it has a huge impact.

At the end of the day, I will engage in level grinding if I enjoy the overall experience of the game. At the same time, I can hope that more efficient means of combining gameplay and the more straightforward storytelling are found in addition into what we already have.

A Look Back: The Fast and the Furious

I'm more than a little inclined to think that the "Fast and Furious" franchise is fairly remarkable. Somehow, an entire mythos and complex chronology was created out of, what essentially was, a "Point Break" remake. I found this so interesting that I decided to rewatch every film in the series (excluding Furious 7) in an attempt to better understand what makes it what it is. It should be noted that I am a person who is very much so into these films, but I had never sat down and watched them all in an attempt to see what they are and how they all work. So, I start this trip with the first film, "The Fast and the Furious."

"The Fast and the Furious" serves as an interesting psuedo-remake of "Point Break." An undercover police officer infiltrates a group of people engaged in some sort of extreme activity (in the film's case, underground street racing) that are also suspected of some sort of illegal activity. The officer then begins to, sincerely, become close to them emotionally. From here, he is faced with a dilemma: turn them in, or let them go? What's interesting isn't its nature as an almost remake, but in the way it plays itself out. By no means is it stellar, for flatness in acting and characterization are everywhere, but it plays itself very well in a few areas.

The most articulated characters are Vin Diesel's Dom Toretto, Paul Walker's Brian O'Connor, and Jordana Brewster's Mia Toretto. These three stand out the most because, well, they're the only ones with any real development. Every other character is basically the same throughout the entire film and only vaguely defined. Even so, this film excels on a number of other levels. I should say that it's important to note the film's place within the Fast and Furious franchise. I would dare say that the impetus of many of the car-based stunts in later films are built off of the truck heists within this one.

This is its greatest accomplishment, for what it lacks in quality of dialogue it more than makes up with well choreographed stunt work. The largest of these is on of those said truck heists towards the end of the film. It's one that happens multiple times throughout the film, but at this point we see it in daylight, with all the identities of the players revealed. Dom and the rest of the members of the heist encircle an 18-wheeler with their cars in an attempt to highjack it and its cargo to sell to a fence. We are given clear geography of the scene; at any given moment we know were each person is. It's pure cinema, with each action leading to the next, telling small stories that are mostly visual. This is the case for the majority of the film.

One important aspect of this movie that was echoed throughout a few of the other films is the theme of family. Dom serves as the patriarch (resonating even to his prized possession, a car he and his departed father built) and the sincerity of his concern for those in his family (read: gang or crew) is palpable. Dom, and many of the other characters work much like Rocky. Particularly, from the first "Rocky", that is to say they are dopey but emotionally sincere. For me, Dom's strongest moment with dialogue comes when he is giving Brian the history of the car he and his father built. He describes the tragic death of his father in said car, which he renovated in the years after, his nearly beating the driver responsible for the car wreck to death, and all of the subsequent trouble from that. Dom concludes by describing how his worldview has changed since the accident, saying that he lives life "a quarter-mile at a time" and that "during the ten seconds in that car, in a race...I'm free."

The entire movie thematically stems from that line. The people who race in the movies are not merely people who drive cars very quickly, but people whose cars are an extension of who they are. When they race, they feel alive, much like an athlete would when performing in their sport of choice. It is a blend of practical movement with artistry, each driver learning the ins and outs of their vehicle to better perform. A very likely reading is that each car represents some aspect of each character driving it. Perhaps, it wasn't intended and just happened to be there. Either way, it elevates the film from a mere film about racing to a film more about why they race, though only slightly.

The Tyranny of The Spoiler

Dear America,


At this point, all of us of have encountered the dreaded specter of The Spoiler. So frightening is this beast that it forces us to preface numerous articles and comments with the tag "spoiler warning", as though revealing such information will traumatize the reader beyond repair. It seems to have the power to ruin entire television series and movies, books, and even video games. It tempts us with desires to wander over to Wikipedia and peak ahead in a series. It even frames how we conduct ourselves in conversations, making whole chunks of information unmentionable. Well, folks, I'm here to tell you that we don't have to fear being haunted by this vision anymore. The reason for that, quite simply, is because spoilers don't matter.

I've put a lot of thought into why we care so much about spoilers, and I've settled onto a few things. For one, we may worry so much about spoilers concerning a certain character due to our  attachment to said character. Knowing that they die, or that some other unfortunate circumstance finds them, may lead us to not consume said media anymore. Folks, I'm here to say that we're mistaken in doing so. We've put our emphasis on the wrong thing, for when we place all our emphasis on the one character, we neglect to acknowledge the whole of the narrative. This is crucial, for to do so is to neglect the extent of the story being told. We must place that character in the context of the story, for the character is a part of the story. We may then see that the series or movie was quite different than we originally thought.

Another reason we may hold so dearly to spoilers is our elevation of the freshness of our experience with a piece of media. This one, I think, is the easiest to see as misplaced. The truest and deepest sort of spoiler is the first time we consume the media, for all context is gained then. All of the nooks and crannies of the story unfold themselves in the immediate viewing and upon our time looking back at it. We can clearly see character motivations, and the little details of each moment, and we are armed with this knowledge the subsequent times after. The obsession with the sanctity of the First Time holds us back from, again, taking in the whole of the narrative. We focus upon the possibilities of what may happen within the story, and not the story itself.

So, what would it look like to put this greater vision of the narrative into play? The best place to start may be a very well-known film: The Empire Strike Back. One of the most famous moments from this film was the line, "Luke, I am your father." At this point, I hardly think we would consider this to be a spoiler since this line has permeated so much of our culture. Yet, I don't doubt that some of us would feel inclined to offer some sort of protest as to not spoil the moment. Well, I can tell you that we should not worry, and we should not protest this piece of information. For, this piece of information is not the most important part, on its own. Its power is granted by the context gained by observing what came before, and reflecting back upon it by seeing what came after.

Luke, a farm boy on a desert planet, learns that he the latest in a line of intergalactic warriors known as the Jedi. He also learns that one of the leaders of the Empire, the oppressive force dominating the galaxy, is also a Jedi, though an evil one. Luke develops as a warrior over the course of the first film, even going so far as to destroy the Death Star, a massive space station that the Empire uses to destroy planets. The second film, The Empire Strikes Back, finds Luke continuing to assist the Rebel forces in their battle against the Empire. He continues his training with the Jedi Master Yoda on the planet of Dagobah, where he learns to confront his own fears and learns of an element of this dark Jedi, Darth Vader. While training, he learns that Vader has his friends held hostage, so he rushes to Cloud City to rescue them, all the while Yoda tells him he is not prepared.

He arrives, attempts to fight, and is promptly defeated. One of his hands is cut off by Vader's lightsaber, and he is dangling for dear life upon a spire. Vader looks down at him and asks him if he knows of his father. Luke says that he knows enough; that Vader killed his father. Vader then says "I AM YOUR FATHER!" Luke is distraught, crushed, and dumbfounded. He screams out in rage and pain. This man, his actual father, is responsible for the death of millions and the death of Luke's adoptive parents, his uncle and aunt. All of Luke's search for purpose and meaning contained an element of the search for where he came from, and now he knows: he comes from the darkest source of all.

Now, it should be clear that the importance of the moment wasn't in the moment itself, but in what lead up to it. The important part wasn't the iconic line by Vader, but what that line meant for Luke. Knowing that Vader is his father means nothing in the first film since we haven't had the context of both films. The line is a culmination of moments that requires the moments before for meaning.

So, good people, we need not bow to the Sacred Cow any longer. It has chained us down, and held us back. The only reason spoilers have any power is because we give them such. Stories are made of many parts that work in conjunction with each other that lead us to feel something and to say something to us. Disproportionately elevating one part of this Whole only serves to, in the long run, cheapen the experience. Due to the interplay of our consumption of stories and the artists that create them, embracing stories based only on shock or stories based on their ability to trend (the kinds of things that seem to really fuel the idolatry of the spoiler) can suggest to the artist and the patrons of the artists that this is what works. We deserve better. We can have stories that resonate with us, while being tightly plotted, while also being fun. We can learn more about the language of storytelling so that we may be more educated consumers, thus being more open to the whole of a narrative. It may be a hard road, America, but I think that it's possible. I've come to melt down this Golden Calf, Spoilers, and remold it into a throne. Upon this throne, we shall place Elevated Narrative Appreciation. It certainly makes for a much more worthy idol.


          Sincerely,
               Your Baby Boy,
    Fredrick Maxwell