The more we come to accept our inner selves as the greatest quality of beauty that we have, the greater our ability will be to accept one another as equals. And the easier it will be for everyone to find a reason to smile.

Boys will be boys?

Boys are boys - anything else is a product of their upbringing.

Irresponsible Child [Demo]

Baby I was born to be a
runner...
Baby I was born to be a
disaster...

And maybe I was meant to leave a
trail of empty lies,
Running around like an
irresponsible child.

Baby I was born to be a
runner on the wrong side of love,
Baby I was born to be a
disaster of broken hearts.
And maybe I was meant to leave her
to seek happiness out on her own,
I could only run around like an
irresponsible child.

And maybe I was meant to leave her
to seek happiness on her own,
I could only get in her way
putting up walls to break down,
And maybe I was meant to leave her
cause I could only get in her way,
Acting out just like an
irresponsible child.

• 21/05/14, Gisborne

What they didn't see...

Everyone was posting this youtube video about a message that gen-y needed to hear, about how their heads were stuck in their screens, about how they were missing the real world, how they were oblivious to the people next to them, how they were lost in their devices, how they couldn't truly experience the world alone with no one there to share it with: "Smart phones, dumb people" one of them posted with the video.

Meanwhile, I was glued to my laptop screen trying to help a friend deal with her alcoholic partner; on my phone encouraging another friend to stay strong in the face of being belittled by her partner; discussing with a friend in Australia about the civil upheaval in Ukraine; discussing the new Mastodon track with someone from Sweden when there was absolutely no one next to me or around me who I could discuss that with; joking with an online friend in America about me not liking anything (including the new Mastodon track); telling my best friend who I haven't seen in over a year that I was really proud of him for doing such a great job raising his son, and at another time letting him know that I couldn't wait to hear the lyrics that he was writing for my latest piece of music; getting to know someone in Canada, Scotland, Norway, England, South Africa - getting to know the world that I lived in and it's people, places I may never visit, people I may never meet. Why would I want to lift my head up from all that if all I have to face is the same old relationships that don't relate to me - never have, never will? Why would I want to lift my head up to see more examples of bad role models?

I know that there are people that that message needs to be heard by, that it has relevance to, and that maybe because I'm not Generation Y, I shouldn't be affected by it. But I am just as human, just as ensconced in this new media as anyone, and like anyone, I desire people I can relate to, joke with, have conversations with that are meaningful, supportive and helpful. Why should Generation Y lift their heads up if the world around them isn't the world they connect with; if the war and bitter exploitation of idealism portrayed by mass media isn't something they can relate to; if politics and the vote is just another way for governments to take control (why vote at all if governments are all the same?); if peace can be achieved through learning about each other and the humanity that lies beyond races, colour and belief systems at just the click of a button or the swipe of a screen; if involving yourself in a multiplayer online videogame is your way of connecting with many different people from around the world and having lots of fun while doing it; if true love can be found with text exchanges on a digital background? Is Generation X losing touch with the society that they themselves have created?

Yes you are right: "Smart phones, dumb people"

This Day's Lease

Down in the hollow what was this meant to be?
          It was meant to be an escape where dreams are leased for free.
Down in the hollow what was this meant to be?
          It was meant to be chastity without recourse for agreeing.

Down in the dreary what was sleep meant to be?
          It was meant to be an island where dreams wash the salty seas.
Down in the dreary what was sleep meant to be?
          It was meant to be a chase scene living the cost of fantasy.

Down in the morrow what was this meant to be?
          It was meant to be a rising where eyes search the scene.
Down in the morrow what was this meant to be?
          It was meant to be a shadow without remorse for seeing.

Down in the merry have you heard what’s to be?
          It was meant to be coming like a penniless thief in retreat.
Down in the merry have you heard what’s to be?
          It was meant to be sorted long ago without the struggle for peace.

Up on the landing where guides the bitter breeze,
          Were you not a loner asking for more than what you teased?
Up on the landing where guides the bitter breeze,
          Were you not a sinner in praise of the faintest river reed?

Up on the fairway where sleeps the bitter breeze,
          Were you not awaiting the longest day to pilfer from the grief?
Up on the fairway where sleeps the bitter breeze,
          Were you not a scholar immersed in his own incomplete screeds?

Up on the standing where guides the bitter breeze,
          Were you not a merchant on the harbour affixed with treaties?
Up on the standing where guides the bitter breeze,
          Were you not a sailor hands on rope in his time of need?

Up on the staircase where creeps the fetching breeze,
          Are you not hounded for the past mistakes you try to appease?
Up on the staircase where creeps the fetching breeze,
          Are you not astounded for the disaster that was this day’s lease?

• Gisborne, 2014

I Choke

“Drifting body, soul in search of…”

Part One

All I wanted to do was hold her; to feel the curves of her body flow into mine. Have her knowing that comfort could be found in my arms. Or simply to feel something…

Something other than hate.

So beautiful she looked and full of grace as she stood above me, stacking spare stock on the top shelf. Blonde hair curling down to the nape of her neck, the back: statuesque and carved out slightly to hips that rested on thighs, giving the perfect suggestion of feminine strength.

To reach out and touch those thighs and have her crumble at my touch, to feel her sinking into my arms and giving in to

Whatever.

I handed her a small pile of books and she smiled at me. I nearly crumbled.

I want you, I say. But she doesn’t hear because I’m too scared to open my mouth and voice the words – to give meaning to what I feel.

I feel weak.

Once I was strong (I think), but now I face a wall ten years thick.

And the wall is untouchable.

* * *

“Oh no,” Susan said with a roll of her eyes. “Kristian’s working today.”

From beside her Jane groaned. “So the creep comes back.”

They shared the joke with a giggle as Kristian walked up to the counter, eyes darting here and there before his gaze rested firmly on the floor. “Hi.”

Susan backed off, obviously inconspicuously. Jane turned a straight-faced glare at her that pleaded desperately, don’t go! Don’t leave me alone with him, I’ll do anything if you stay, and finally, I’ll get you back for this! But Susan was gone, behind shelves tidying.

Jane tried to ignore his presence. Perhaps he would eventually go away, get bored and look for something else to do. Unlikely, considering the message that was drummed into every new staff member’s head, as well as those who forgot: “Always have two people at the counter.” The boss’s irritating voice pounded the message into everybody’s head whether they wanted it or not.

So here she was, stuck with a dark and greasy, heavy breathing freak, who seemed to be inching closer and closer – like a virus invading her body. Jane thought she might be sick. If he got any closer, she surely would be.

Just ignore him.

But she couldn’t.

Look at the way he served customers. Was a grunt a “yes” or a “no”? And what does a smirk mean? Didn’t he know how to smile? Jane wondered if any of the customers would come back. Ever! His feeble attempts at kindness only seemed to scare them. “No, I don’t know where the c-cooking books are.”

The lady looked displeased. “Why not?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Because I don’t.” He turned to Jane with a disgusted look on his face.

How could somebody like this get a job in the first place?

“I’m sorry, he’s new.” She pointed to the left, past Kristian’s furrowed brow. “Over by the gardening books, two rows down from here.”

The lady thanked Jane and walked off.

He served some more, just purchasing items, but with little recognition to any one who came to the counter. Jane knew that learning could be difficult, but this was ridiculous. All he had to do was smile and say “thank you”, or at least just smile.

After serving the last customer he stepped back from the counter seemingly downcast.

Great! Am I supposed to feel sorry for him now?

This quiet moment seemed to go on too long, especially with Kristian fidgeting like an insect beside her. She decided to break the silence, say something nice. Maybe he just needed to be spoken to, helped or encouraged to try a little harder.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. You’ll soon pick it up.”

He glanced at her. “Pick what up?”

“How to do everything, y’ know, learn where everything is.”

He didn’t say anything, just looked away again. Jane didn’t know if anything more should be said, so she thought back to her first day on the job. Hadn’t the other staff members encouraged her to learn where everything was? “When you can, just take a walk around the shop, find out where everything stays. For example, the book section over there; to your left, the stationary…” But Jane had been willing to learn; Kristian on the other hand was barely even making the effort to smile. She felt obliged to say something, but how? Casually: “Hey Kristian, just try to make the customers feel welcome, y’ know, smile a bit more.”

“Oh, is that all I have to do?” He looked really annoyed.

“Well, yeah.”

He turned away. Maybe she was being too forceful. Encourage him, say something nice.

But it came out wrong… “Y’ know, kindness doesn’t come without a smile.”

He turned to face her, a gaze that hid itself under that low furrowed brow, and said: “who taught you to smile – a hyena?”

No, don’t say anything. But Jane wasn’t sure she could say anything, so she turned her head away from him. Turned her whole body too. Now he wasn’t worth noticing or paying any attention to, because he was just a joke – nothing more.

“How could you do that to me? No, don’t laugh. It’s not funny damn it.”

“Yes it is.” Susan slapped her thigh as Jane sat shaking her head slowly.

They were on their break, seated on the other side of the complex, away from the mid-week customers mingling about looking for bargains; unafraid to talk out loud now they were both away from that creepy freak.

“Oh poor me. Do you know I was nearly sick when he looked at me.”

This comment caused more laughter to burst from Susan but Jane continued on.

“Why do we have to be stuck with this creep?”

“Evil creep,” Susan insisted.

“Urgh. I hate the way he looks at you, like he’s imagining all the gross things he would do to you if he had the chance.”

“Oh and I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“What!?”

“When you turned away from him today, guess where his eyes turned down to.”

Sound travels. And Jane’s scream bounced off almost every wall that existed in the complex. She slapped a hand across her mouth, but Susan wasn’t finished torturing her yet.

“I think it’s obvious he likes you.” She cocked her head to one side and asked brightly, “are y’ gonna ask him out?”

“Don’t do this to me.” Jane’s hand covered her whole face, trying desperately to cope with the pressure.

Susan suddenly grabbed her arm. “He’s probably got a shed at home where he keeps his corpses, people he’s hacked to pieces and stored away so that every night he can go in and look at them and gloat.” This idea plunged her into a deep thought and she started biting a thumbnail. “And falling in love with each one like some sick psycho.”

“Now I know I’m going to be sick.”

But this just caused Susan to burst into even more laughter.

As the days went by, it seemed as though Susan was on a mission to perfect the art of ‘backing off’. The amount of times she had actually stood next to Kristian for more than five seconds could be counted on one hand. More and more it was Jane who was left at the counter watching over his sad attempts at serving while Susan wandered the shop pretending to look busy.

If having to stand next to him wasn’t enough, she also had to put up with him looking at her – very suspiciously. Whenever she turned towards him he would suddenly look away or let his gaze fall to the ground in a show of embarrassment. But occasionally she would catch him viewing her like she was just some object, and Jane became more and more uncomfortable with it. To the point of letting the assistant manager know, even – only she felt this option to be a little extreme and would probably end up feeling guilty about ‘dobbing’ someone in anyway. Besides, the assistant manager was so hard to approach sometimes. Always walking the shop in a rush, like she had important business to do, eyeing her workers to make sure they were actually working and not slacking off – that was almost as bad as Kristian, but not quite.

So what was she to do?

Tell him. Be strong and let him know that you feel uncomfortable and that it is your right to not feel uncomfortable while at work.

Again she was stuck at the counter with him and again he was looking sideways at her – ‘checking her out’ (which was okay in itself once or twice, if he appreciated how she looked, but when it didn’t stop and went on day after day, it became very distressing).

She waited for him to finish serving, turned to him and spoke. “Kristian, I’ve noticed you have been constantly looking at me and I don’t want to sound mean but I’m starting to feel uncomfortable.”

She waited for him to say something. He just stood there looking directly into her eyes. Waiting.

“Well, so, I would sort of like it if you stopped looking at me like that. Okay?” She felt her insides curl. What else could she say?

He turned and said, “Fine. I’m sorry.”

But he didn’t look sorry. He looked annoyed and put off.

And now Jane felt even more uncomfortable, like she had found a place within Kristian, a place he believed in, and squashed it.

The clock read 10:30. Half an hour before she would be released from this torture.

Oh where was Susan when she needed her? Giggling from behind a shelf, not in the least bit sympathetic – just a work mate who pretended to be a friend, but when the friendship was asked for she would run at the first chance she had.

Poor me.

* * *

Her name is Ryoline. Part Scottish, the other half lost somewhere in the Afrikaner.

Assistant Manager.

Eyes that shine, a smile that warms.

I feel strength when I’m near her, a great comforting glow that leaves me thinking how great life could be if only I could reach out and touch her.

But I can’t.

I feel the glow leave my body, strength dissipating and I start choking on the emptiness again. Drowning me.

Like love,

But harsher.

Ryoline drifting about

Like a dream,

Kristian watching himself

Fall on knees.

I kick and scream

Falling again and again,

Make me blind, I must not see!

* * *

Healing, Injury and Death in Video Games

There is/was an interesting discussion at AWTR¹ about the healing mechanic in games and their ability to break verisimilitude in games “in a way that magic, dragons and sword-fighting don’t.” Personally, I find just dying breaks verisimilitude in games. Every death reminds me that I am just playing a game after all, and not living through an immersive experience along with the character I am controlling.

The discussion focuses intensely on RPGs because the author is “less interested in [FPS-type games] in general” but I would like to look at two games outside of RPGs as ways of exploring the idea of realistic healing, or injury, mechanics.

The first is Dead Space. One of the aspects of losing health in Dead Space is that Isaac Clarke’s body slows down and at it’s lowest starts staggering with heavy breaths. It’s a great mechanic that adds intensity to the game when you are also low on ammo and you know that the last batch of necromorphs were a struggle to dispatch and if you don’t find health soon, those next lot of necromorphs down that dingy looking corridor are going to be the ones dispatching you. It’s intense and at least semi-realistic. That is, until Isaac finds health and all of a sudden he’s back to his old boot-stomping, leg and arm decapitating self again. It’s amazing what Med-Packs can do in the future!² Could Med-Packs actually work that quickly in the future? Well, I guess it’s possible. With a little adrenalin mixed into the concoction, I’m sure a standard Med-Pack could get you back into tip-top condition almost immediately.

I would like to propose a way of getting around that in a more contemporary scenario without the mechanic causing frustration for the player. Imagine being injured; you struggle, you limp, but you can still shoot – that’s important of course, and no programmer would be daft enough to take that away from the player. But what about after finding your health pack? Do you just spring back into action like you have just been injected directly with heroin? Perhaps. If the health pack had heroin in it … So let’s assume that it doesn’t. Maybe it takes time to heal properly. Not an overly long period of time, but just enough for the player to still be cautious about what they do with themselves, where they tread, how often they recklessly poke their heads out from behind cover, knowing full well that they need to nurse that wound like their life depended on it. Because after all, that’s exactly what an in-game injury should simulate.

There is also the scenario of being able to mix different concoctions. Say a Med-Pack is slow working but heals you fully when the healing is complete, and an adrenalin pack gives you that much needed stamina boost. Mixing those two together would literally cause you to spring back into action allowing the healing pack to still do it’s work in the background³.

I like the idea of healing having a real-time consequence, especially in games like Dead Space, where your injury causes tension in high-strung scenarios. It seems to have a lot less consequence in Fantasy-based RPGs when magic is flying all over the place and healing happens as quickly as inflicting damage. In fact I want a game where being injured is a huge factor, and where injuring an NPC is just as consequential for them – they stagger, they limp, you get an easier target, but at the risk of being hit by the stray bullets that the NPC is now recklessly firing at you to try to keep themselves covered. Although I may not be a huge stealth game fanatic, Dark Souls definitely tested my patience (I passed!), while Deus Ex: Human Revolution gave me the enjoyment of choosing stealth if I desired it. Maybe it’s a case of programming, where the logistics of dividing pixel bodies up into parts that are affected accordingly might end up taking up all your programming resources. However, if Fallout 3 could do a minor simulation of it in an open-world, I don’t see why a linear shooter couldn’t do it to an even greater extent.

“The healing mechanic is perhaps small fry in relation to the overall issue of integrating storytelling and gameplay. […] But when I look at such actions from a distance, they do affect the degree to which I'm immersed in the story, and looking ways to increase immersion is never a bad thing.”(sic)

I would argue that the healing mechanic is only ‘small fry’ because no one has found a way to integrate it with a story that continues to move forward. This is where every environmental object has weight and is able to be used as cover, something to lean up against, something to rest and inject yourself with a health pack, or drink water and allow for the time to heal; a chance also to check directions, clues and inventory items. Like in Dark Souls and Dead Space where inventory checking does not pause the game, it would seem logical not to be doing this out in the open but in a secluded or safe area – the bonfires as an example in Dark Souls. Waiting for your leg to heal might be a good time to check some details with that sidekick of yours that hangs around also. I just like the idea of an injury that takes real-time to heal, creating a cautionary play-style for the player. It’s something that could do wonders for the stealth game, or the tactical horror game.

Down on page 3 of the fifteen (!) pages of comments, CultureGeekGirl says:

“I feel that the idea of death and respawning in a video game is more immersion-breaking to me than any other mechanic possibly could be. The death mechanic is deeply engrained in the way games have worked from the very start, so you have to have that to some extent, but dying always kind of jolts me out of any reality I may have invested myself in - even in really game-y games”

But no mention was made of that much maligned game Prince of Persia (2008) where death was skipped altogether and whenever you screwed up you were saved by the comforting hand of Elika. While many saw this as making the game too easy by not dying therefore not learning a lesson, few realised that it was the gameplay that didn’t make the game challenging enough, i.e. ‘teach the player anything’. Dark Souls has one of the most integrated versions of respawning to story and setting that I know of,⁴ but despite the ‘YOU DIED’ in red fading into my screen, I never actually felt like I died in Dark Souls. Sure, my humanity was stolen from me, but respawning is respawning; it’s still not dying and the game loading to a previous checkpoint as though nothing happened. Instead, it’s like being killed figuratively but still being able to keep all your memories and inventory of collectibles and losing only your souls (‘money’) and humanity (‘human spirit’), and then restarting from a previous checkpoint.

With Prince of Persia (2008) I had finally found a game that made internal sense in relation to the story that it was telling. If the character is going to win, because that’s the role of the hero in the story, then he literally can’t die. In Prince of Persia (2008) the Prince doesn’t die, he is saved each time by the hand of Elika. “Where is the fear of dying to create the challenge for the player?” asks the detractors. Admittedly, in this game, there was little challenge. But that had nothing to do with the ‘no-death’ mechanic I would argue. That had everything to do with the environmental challenges, the boss battles and the general fighting mechanics themselves being too one-button easy to traverse.

What the ‘no-death’ mechanic did was not only eliminate the loading screen, but also keep the player’s story immersion intact. Very rarely did I ever feel like I wasn’t a part of the game.⁵ Also, just as a minor note, PoP (2008) had an injury mechanic, though very basic and pretty ignorable. If the Prince was hit while in battle, he would clutch at one arm.

“The death mechanic is deeply engrained in the way games have worked from the very start.” We know, as discussed in a number of other online critiques, that win states are a simple part of gaming that drives player accomplishments, and dying seems to be tied up in the failure state. But that certainly doesn’t mean it has to be. It’s just there because so many games are combat based and death seems the logical failure of playing these games - “you’re supposed to stay alive, idiot!!” But why can’t it be “You’re supposed to traverse that area without the walls collapsing around you and setting you back at the start and needing to find a new way, idiot!!” Sounds like too much thinking would be involved. But I do like the idea of being injured setting you back as a failure because now you have to work harder to achieve the goal that you could have achieved easier if you weren’t injured. See, now that’s an injury that makes sense and would become a challenge to overcome: “Don’t get shot! No, you’re not going to die, but you are going to have to work a whole lot bloody harder at this section now that your injury is slowing you down, idiot!”