Adaptations fail in the majority of cases because a story is usually engineered specifically for its original medium. As mediocre as Half-Life the game is, it would be way worse as a movie. So, they really can’t do an adaptation. It would have to be some other story in the Half-Life universe. But the Half-Life universe is, honestly, pretty mediocre itself.
I frankly don’t see any way this could turn out well, unless they get Ross Scott to play Gordon Freeman. I’m sorry, but Freeman’s Mind is the best thing to come out of that franchise, and hopefully at some point the contractual imbroglio will be resolved and Scott can resume making it.
As for Valve’s Portal series, which Abrams might also adapt, it is a much better game, but again it seems like a waste of time to adapt it. This is precisely because it is so well-suited to game form. The gameplay is an integral part of what makes it fun. It would still be amusing, I guess, to hear the humorous lines, but the game lets you do that and enjoy the gameplay. You can have your cake and eat it too.
Now, there are cases where the original medium is not the best, and there are some games that might have been better as something else. Metal Gear Solid is probably better as a movie, at least from Sons of Liberty onward. Neverwinter Nights 2 probably would be better as a book. Duke Nukem would have been better if it had never existed at all. But in general, stories are designed for the medium they were originally created in.
I have to be honest, though: I could see almost anything happening in this game. Both teams are very unpredictable. That might make it exciting, except that I’m almost completely indifferent to who wins. I plan to root for San Francisco, solely because I like their colors.
I get uneasy when I read academic literary analysis that focuses heavily on what elements of a story are supposed to symbolize. Symbolism is definitely a device that artists use, and to some extent all art is trying to say something about “life, the universe, and everything” by using its own elements as representative of some larger idea.
So, we know symbolism is used. What we don’t always know is what the author was symbolizing or why, and unless they explicitly say so somewhere, the only way to figure it out is through educated guesswork. And sometimes, we don’t even know if s/he was trying to symbolize anything.
This being so, it’s awfully easy to make up almost any symbolism you like and call it an analysis. Let me give you an example of what I mean, with a faux-analysis I just made up of Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Grand Duke:
The Grand Duke is an allegory about the failure of democracy. It shows the rightful ruler of the state of Pfennig-Halbpfennig deposed by the rabble (actors–commonly considered a “low” occupation then.) The actors, on taking over the government promptly seek to “revive the classic memories of Athens at its best”. The ancient Greek theme is chosen to represent Democracy because it was in ancient Greece that Democracy was created.
The ultimate theme of the story is how Democracy–a.k.a. mob rule–ruins the Aristocracy. The fake aristocrats hired by the Prince of Monte Carlo are the most obvious example of this. In the end, order can only be restored when the rightful ruler is placed back in charge.
This interpretation does rely on actual evidence from the play–the actors who take over really do dress as ancient Greeks, the commoners who attempt to impersonate aristocrats are portrayed as buffoons, and the opera ends on a happy note only when the original Duke resumes his reign. So, I think this is a theoretically possible interpretation.
Is it actually likely that this is what W.S. Gilbert had in mind when he wrote it, though? Highly doubtful. It seems much more likely that he had the characters remake the government in the image of ancient Athens because he had worked up a clever song about it, and he made the Prince of Monte Carlo’s entourage an uncouth band because he thought it was funny. Anyone familiar with the piece will have a hard time believing it was trying to make any major statement about forms of government.
People say authorial intent doesn’t matter, and to an extent they’re right–I can believe that people would insert certain ideas in stories without being conscious of it. But when you have symbolism that, however “logical” it seems, takes you so far away from the obvious character of the work in question that it gives you pause.
I remember reading about the theory that L. Frank Baum’s novel The Wonderful Wizard of Oz was an allegory about the Populist movement. There is a lot of detail in this theory, and it is pretty thorough, but there’s no evidence that Baum intended it. According to Wikipedia “it is not taken seriously by literary historians”. I wonder why. They take flimsier theories seriously.
As you know from this post, I enjoy alternate interpretations that run contrary to the creator’s ideas. but still, no matter how plausible you make the case, at a certain point you have to acknowledge it when your interpretation takes you far from what the author originally meant.
I started thinking about the new “Sherlock” series and wondering how they could adapt the story to the modern day if they wanted to. In the age of word processing software and copiers, there’s no need for clerks to sit around copying lengthy documents for hours. Conan Doyle’s story simply could not occur in the present day.
Then, a few nights later, I saw an episode of the show Bewitched. In it, the witch puts a spell on household objects to make them respond to voice commands, e.g. windows opening and closing by simply saying a command. When they made that show in the ’60s, that must have seemed fantastic; now it’s eminently doable.
I’ve often seen Cold War spy thrillers where a big problem is finding a phone quickly, before something serious happens. Again, nowadays that’s obsolete–cell phones eliminate that problem.
It’s funny to think of how people in those days wrote these stories, probably never thinking that there would be technology that would one day make the whole scenario they had constructed obsolete. It doesn’t make the story any less enjoyable, of course, but it just gives you an idea of how much technology has changed. Makes you wonder what people will look at in our modern films and television programs and think “if they just had…”
He’s a good coach, sure, but it’s not like he’s in a class by himself. He hasn’t even won a championship. Seems to me that most of his team’s success is built on their superior speed, which is not going to work at the pro level, where there is less difference between players’ abilities.
Here’s how I see it: Kelly knows the probabilities better than most coaches, and in most games, has the talent to execute plays flawlessly against less gifted opponents. Against equal opposition, it may still provide a slight advantage, but there is no special reason for thinking that Kelly’s pro players will necessarily be able to out-perform their opponents.
In other words, Kelly has made following the probabilities look like more of magic formula than it is by defeating second-tier college teams. Am I wrong?
I’ve been mulling over it since I finished the game, and I have to say that I think I like the ending where Shepard chooses to control the Reapers the best. Commenter xmenxpert disagrees, favoring the “Destroy” ending. I can definitely understand why one would feel that way; indeed, I had been planning to destroy the Reapers, but the final talk with the Catalyst changed my mind.
Let me explain how I arrived at my ending. For all of ME2, my Shepard was pretty loyal to the Illusive Man, since he did save his life and no one else seemed to take the Reaper issue seriously. I preserved the Collector base at the end, because I figured having it gave us options, whereas destroying it was irreversible. I liked it the idea of controlling the Reapers and their technology for humanity’s benefit. To quote another BioWare game: “What greater weapon is there than to turn an enemy to your cause?”
I was planning to go along with whatever the Illusive Man wanted to do in ME 3, right up until the scene on Thessia when the Prothean V.I. states that at the end of the last Reaper cycle, the Protheans’ efforts to thwart the harvest were ruined by a rogue group that wanted to control, not destroy the Reapers. Later, it turned out that the Protheans in this group had been indoctrinated by the Reapers to sabotage their efforts.
This meant that Cerberus was nothing new, and siding with them would be playing right into the Reaper’s plans, and would cause the cycle to continue. So, I reconsidered, and resolved not to do what Cerberus wanted after all.
This was my plan right up to the last scene when Shepard meets the Catalyst, at which point the following exchange takes place:
Catalyst: Or do you think you can control us?
Shepard: Huh… so the Illusive Man was right after all.
Catalyst: Yes, but he could never have taken control, because we already controlled him.
Control of the Reapers was possible, the Illusive Man had just screwed it up. But Shepard hadn’t made the same mistakes, and so he could take control. I think this was the significance of the blue (Paragon) color being used for the control ending and red (Renegade) being used for the destroy ending. It was a plot twist of sorts: the Illusive Man had wanted to do the right thing, but out of evil motivations, and Anderson had wanted the wrong thing, but out of pure motivations. So I chose Control.
Now, you may object that this decision rests solely on trusting that the Catalyst is telling the truth, which is a gigantic leap of faith given that (a) you just met it 5 minutes before, (b) most of what it says to explain the choice is vague nonsense, and (c) its original plan and reason for creating the Reapers is a patchwork solution at best and utterly insane at worst.
All of these are valid objections, and in a really good ending, you wouldn‘t have to trust the Catalyst. But, with the choices the game gives you, you have to take Its word for it or else let the cycle continue. Consequently, I would argue that the Control ending is the best of the available choices.
[NOTE: If you plan to play the Mass Effectseries, know that this post contains massive spoilers. And if you haven’t played any of the Mass Effect games and don’t plan to, this post will probably make no sense whatsoever.]
I think I got the “control/bad ending”, although it’s hard to tell for sure. Personally, I didn’t hate it as much as most people did, but I do think the ME3 endings should forever exonerate the vastly-superior Knights of the Old Republic II from charges of having an “incomplete” or “unsatisfying” ending.
So… where to begin… I guess first of all I should say that I don’t know what to make of the “Renegade” or Paragon” interrupt options. The first time it really struck me as odd was when Kai Leng (who I kept wanting to ask “did you escape from Jade Empire or what?”) was sneaking up behind Shepard with his sword drawn, and you have a renegade interrupt button. I pressed it, on the logic that doing something is better than doing nothing. I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t.
Then, during the climactic end scene with Shepard and the Illusive Man pointing their pistols at each other, I got another Renegade interrupt. Again, I took it; figuring that the sooner I could end the Illusive Man’s career, the better. I read later that if you don’t do this, Illusive Man will shoot Shepard, and the game will end. If this is true, it’s kind of a weird game mechanic.
So, having done this, I proceeded to the controversial endgame sequence, where Shepard meets the Catalyst. The Catalyst is an artificial (I think, as opposed to “virtual”) intelligence that governs pretty much everything, including the Reapers. It presents Shepard with three choices to end the game, none of them very pleasant. This parody video sums them up fairly well:
I can’t imagine that others haven’t pointed this out, but the Catalyst is literally “God from the machine”, or, as they say, deus ex machina.Deus ex machina is, as Wikipedia describes:
a plot device whereby a seemingly unsolvable problem is suddenly and abruptly solved with the contrived and unexpected intervention of some new event, character, ability, or object.
All fit the Catalyst, except for the part about solving things. The Catalyst solves nothing, but it does end things.
Having said that, it’s not such a bad ending. You could argue that all Shepard’s thousands of choices amounting to only a minor difference makes a grand philosophical point about the Universe. Or you could argue that the writers were lazy. Your choice.
Looking back, the Mass Effect series is surprisingly uneven. The mechanics of the first one feel very different from the sequels. It kind of morphed from an action, sci-fi RPG into a third-person FPS with dialogue. Which is okay with me, although the fighting did grow tiresome after a time.
The characters and plot likewise are uneven. There are some deep philosophical concepts in the story–the Prothean V.I’s dialogue with Shepard on Thessia reminded me a little of Oswald Spengler’s writings–but there are also quite a few space-cowboy movie cliches.
The characters are sometimes believable and emotionally compelling. I liked the scene where Shepard and Garrus go to the top of the Presidium, for instance. The Illusive Man himself is a fairly complex and interesting character. But then again, you have Shepard and Ashley’s messed up relationship, which felt like artificially-created drama, especially in ME2. And don’t get me started on the forced relationship with Liara. I liked both Ashley and Miranda better.
The voice acting was all pretty good, though much of the dialogue was corny. I lost track of how many times people said “This is it,” during the final hour or so. Most of the Big Inspirational Speeches in all three games were pretty hackneyed, I thought. But the actors did their part; and frankly, I’d listen to Jennifer Hale or Yvonne Strahovski read the phonebook. Or Codex, as it were.
Mass Effect is not a great series, it’s just a good one. I think it got a little too “franchisified” too early, and tried to be all things to all players, and of course it could not be. But it’s still a very enjoyable sci-fi adventure series. It’s not the best series of games ever, but I’m still glad I got to play it.
Finally got it this Christmas, and have been playing it this weekend. It’s good, but the missions are kind of repetitive: go to base held by Geth/Cerberus forces, choose who you want to either activate or deactivate the Anti-Aircraft gun, defend them, wash, rinse, repeat. Anti-Aircraft guns are the new rogue V.I.s, it seems.
Also, the whole idea that “well, yes, the Reapers are destroying the Galaxy, but we refuse to ally with [whatever other species of alien] because we’ve been at war with them forever” is a little unbelievable. I think intelligent beings could put aside their differences long enough to fight the attack of the Metal Cthulhus. As Ronald Reagan–yes, that Ronald Reagan–once said:
“In our obsession with antagonisms of the moment, we often forget how much unites all the members of humanity. Perhaps we need some outside, universal threat to make us recognize this common bond. I occasionally think how quickly our differences worldwide would vanish if we were facing an alien threat from outside this world. “
Same principle here, except it would be all the members of the galaxy uniting to stop the threat from outside the galaxy, not just the planet. It seems kind of unbelievable they could be so petty.
I’m sure there will be more plot developments, of course, and maybe it will be explained. It’s still a fun adventure game. I’m sure I’ll post a lot more when I finish it.
I’ve been watching the show Downton Abbey on PBS. As with all soap operas, I can’t figure out where I’ve picked up the plot, as it seems to be an endless saga of romance, death and bickering. I don’t know if I’m watching the first season or what; but I suspect it doesn’t really matter.
I know I’m not the program’s target demographic, and I kind of like that. I bet there are very few people who have watched more than five minutes of Downtonand also know the trick to beating the last level of Quake. Not that either is anything to be proud of, but still…
It’s a tough show to keep up with. On the installment I watched last night, Lord Grantham or whatever his name is didn’t want his daughter to marry the chauffeur for some reason, and half the cast came down with influenza. Also, I think World War I is ending or just ended, but it seems to have been a secondary concern. In a previous episode I saw, the two major problems were (1)something to do with the number of footmen in the household and (2)the war. In that order, to judge by the amount of attention given to each.
The acting is pretty good, but it somehow feels all pointless. There does not seem to be any central problem for all the characters to deal with; they’re just all… there, and as a result all the drama feels very contrived and artificial. I’m not sure how anyone could stay with it for very long, but apparently it’s quite popular.
I was too busy to address this when the news broke; but let me just say that I think the Star Wars/Disney thing is terrific news. I am an avid, if somewhat unorthodox, Star Wars fan. I like the prequels more than the originals. I think most of the “Special Edition” changes were good. I think the end of KotOR II is perfect, and that the game as a whole is the best thing ever set in the Star Wars universe.
Many fans are worried about it; they’re scared it will “ruin” Star Wars. Star Wars fans are, I have come to realize, about the most fragile bunch of pessimistic nervous Nellies I’ve ever seen. Honestly, they’re worse than Democrats when it comes to having no confidence in their own side.
I’m not saying it’s a sure thing that the new movie will be good. Maybe it will be worse than the “Holiday Special”. But Star Wars isn’t going to continue at all unless somebody is willing to take some risks. It all goes back to what I said here, during the most recent existential threat to Star Wars.
Sure, it won’t be exactly like A New Hope all over again, but so what? As a melancholy Vrook remarks to Zez-Kai Ell in KotOR II when they return to the destroyed Jedi Enclave: “It is not as it was…” And as Zez-Kai Ell thoughtfully responds: “But, perhaps, that is for the best.”