2019 Was A Good Year For Movies

2019 was by no means immune to having bad movies – Disney live action remakes continue to exist, in defiance of even the basest standard of human decency – but we also got several really good films in the last year. Joker and 1917 stand out as movies that have worked their way into my top five, reminding me in a good way of Inception and Gravity, two films which have (evidently) stuck in my head for 7+ years. Avengers: Endgame is more of a popcorn film, but it was a satisfying finale to a decade-spanning cinematic megaproject, ambitious for its sheer scale even if not for the specific notes it tried to hit. Knives Out proves once and for all that Rian Johnson isn’t bad at making movies, he just hates Star Wars, JJ Abrams, or both.

Movies like Detective Pikachu, Spider-Man: Far From Home, the Lego Movie 2, and Toy Story 4, which could’ve been solid contenders for second best film of the year in most other years, are instead fighting each other to even make it into my top five of 2019. This checks out for 2017, where they’d be fighting Wonder Woman, Spider-Man: Homecoming, Lego Batman, and Guardians of the Galaxy 2 for second place behind Logan, 2016, where they’d be fighting Rogue One, Captain America: Civil War, and Zootopia for first (although I never did see Hacksaw Ridge), and 2015, where Inside Out and Mad Max: Fury Road are fighting for first, the Martian has third locked down, but any of the 2019 also-rans could’ve  pretty solidly beat the fourth-place contenders out of the top five, like Age of Ultron and Ant Man. Funny enough, 2018 was also more crowded with good top five contenders, giving us all of Black Panther, Into the Spider-Verse, and Infinity War, but while these can all soundly trounce 2019’s also-rans, they compare less well against 2019’s own best movies. Particularly, the Infinity War vs. Endgame comparison isn’t kind to Infinity War.

This isn’t changing the world of cinema forever or anything. Film historians aren’t going to look back at 2019 and say “we’ll never have another year like that again.” If you could find a way to chart movie good-ness by year, 2019 would probably show up as noticeably above the trendline, but probably not as some massive, unprecedented spike. For starters, I already mentioned that 2018 holds up a pretty tough fight, and I only checked back to 2015. I’d be very surprised if you didn’t get a year about as good as 2019 once every decade-ish. But still, 2019 is the best year we’ve had for movies in a while.

Of course, about half the legs on this thesis can be knocked out if 1917 is actually a 2020 release. I’m counting it as a 2019 movie because both its worldwide premier and its American release were December, but there were other nations that got it in 2020, so you could list it as a 2020 film and that wouldn’t be inaccurate either. Joker is still a stand-out movie, but lots of years have stand-out movies. I still think 2019 is above par even without the one-two punch of both Joker and 1917, but it’s definitely less decisive if it has to ride more on Endgame (which is itself riding on every Marvel movie that came before it) and a slightly bigger crop of good second-place contenders to fill out its top five.

You’ve also probably noticed that I don’t watch all movies, or even all good movies, and there’s some good 2019 movies that I haven’t listed. But, like, there’s also movies from the other years that I’ve heard good things about but did not actually see, and that a good deal of my thesis rests on two absolutely fantastic movies coming out in the same year, so I’m reasonably confident my thesis is going to hold even on closer examination.

Conan the Indomitable: Wizards Get Conan’d

Chapter Nineteen

One of the gems taken from Chuntha has some kind of clearly magical hum to it. Conan’s usual magic-sensing powers have apparently failed to alert him, though. Maybe he lost his Barbarian class features when he used the Warp in the last book, and now he can’t rage or repel magic until he has an atonement spell cast on him.

Chuntha has a cloak that can turn her into a quetzalcoatlus (that’s the dinosaur – the Aztec god is just quetzalcoatl without the -us), and also knows feather fall. Like, seriously, it’s a “complex conjuration that would lighten her body to featherweight,” so in terms of casting time and effect it is basically exactly the same as the D&D spell. She plans on using her quetzalcoatlus form to fly home, and since the length of the transportation is extremely swingy, on attempting to use the feather fall spell to save herself if the transformation gives out mid-air. You might think that attempting to fly home in the ‘Neath is going to be difficult, seeing as how everything past the Sunless Sea (and even large portions of the Sunless Sea) seems to be pretty tight tunnels with maybe a dozen yards of head room at most, but apparently this is so little a concern that it doesn’t even need to be addressed. Maybe she’s just using this form to cross the Sea? Either way, the chapter also says that quetzalcoatlus is only nearly extinct, so there’s still dinosaurs stomping around somewhere in the far south of Hyboria. I feel like there’s other Conan stories that have had dinosaurs in them, but I can’t put my finger on an actual name or plot or anything, so maybe it’s just that they go together so well that my mind has associated them without any actual source material to draw on. Certainly I liked the idea enough to write up about half an RPG about it the one time.

Continue reading “Conan the Indomitable: Wizards Get Conan’d”

Conan the Indomitable: The Subterranean United Nations

We’re all just gonna pretend it’s Saturday.

Chapter Fifteen

Conan and company flee the wizard they’ve just escaped, and learn that Lalo wasn’t, like, planning on saving them or anything, and it was pure stupid luck that the floor happened to cave in underneath him while he was wandering through the wilderness after finally getting kicked out of the inn. The four decide that now is the best time to rob Chuntha and/or Katamay Rey blind, since they’re both out hunting Conan (it’s still not clear why Katamay cares, nor if Chuntha has any motivation besides lust). There was definitely some kind of divination from Katamay Rey, but it’s not really clear to me what Conan is actually prophesied to do. Katamay and Chuntha must have a pretty solid idea that Conan is a threat, though, to go to such lengths chasing him.

Wikkell and Deek are making their way back to their respective homelands in hopes of stirring up revolution while the rulers are away. They discuss both the difficulty in convincing them to act and the potential for the future if the wizards can be deposed.

“We must convince our brothers and sisters to take the long view, Deek. Why, we might even create some kind of joint council, your folk and mine, with input from the plants and perhaps even the bats and Whites. Bring prosperity to the caves, instead of the boots of Rey and Chuntha upon our throats.”

Vote Wikkell 2020.

Chapter Sixteen

It’s not really clear how Conan and company get back across the Sunless Sea, but they do, arriving back in Tull’s hideout. Chuntha and Katamay Rey’s domains are both reasonably close, but in different directions, so they have to pick one or the other to raid. Katamay prefers gold, while Chuntha prefers gems, specifically rubies, emeralds, and firestones are named, and apparently we’re meant to take these as equally tempting treasures, but the real answer here is clearly Chuntha, because rubies and emeralds are worth more pound for pound than gold. If Chuntha has similar volume as Katamay, hers is the more valuable hoard. If she has similar value to Chuntha, hers is the more portable hoard. But I guess rubies and gold are supposed to be equally valuable, or else a lot more of Chuntha’s treasure is made up of less valuable gemstones than Tull implied.

Conan says the witch, but not for economic reasons.

Elashi raised one eyebrow at Conan. “Why so?”

It lay upon the top of Conan’s tongue to answer that he thought dealing with a witch – a woman – would be easier than dealing with a wizard – a man – should anything go wrong. Recalling his travels with Elashi so far, however, he realized that to speak such reasoning aloud would only irritate her and bring forth an undammed flow of invective. For some reason, Elashi seemed convinced that women were the equal of men in practically all things, and Conan had no desire to listen to another of her tirades. Perhaps, he thought, he was learning to deal with women after all.

I can’t tell if Steve Perry is trying to paint Conan as dumb and conceited or if the audience is meant to agree that Elashi is unreasonable. Certainly Elashi is unreasonable, not in this particular case but just in general, which suggests probably the latter.

But then it turns out that Steve Perry does know the value of rubies:

“Well?” she said.

Conan thought quickly. “Well-cut jewels are more valuable than gold, and much lighter. We can carry more gems than coin.”

Well, you can carry more value in gems. Individual gems will probably be bigger and harder to transport than individual coins. I’m nitpicking, but seeing as how 1) Conan was the only one smart enough to realize this very obvious fact and 2) even Conan only got here because announcing “because sexism!” is a faux pas and Conan cares about social propriety now for some reason.

Also, the general trend of both wizards having effectively identical solutions to all problems is only getting stronger. They’re both scouting the Sunless Sea for Conan, and the magical bird-size hornets they’re using are seriously just palette swaps of one another. There’s a backstory for how these near-identical magic items wound up in their possession, but while that might’ve been kinda funny on its own, being as it is the third or fourth time two nominally distinct wizards have turned out to be palette swaps of one another, it’s mostly just dull. Anyway, they’re still searching the Sunless Sea, so no chance of finding Conan any time soon. On the other hand, we’ve only got about eighty pages to burn before the climax, when the wizards are scheduled to be killed by Conan, their own rebellious minions, or both, so presumably they’re getting back home sooner rather than later.

That rebellion isn’t going so great, though. Deek and Wikkell are unable to prompt a rebellion just by asking for one, so they resolve to try and find some crack in their respective evil overlords’ armor with which to inspire their fellows.

Continue reading “Conan the Indomitable: The Subterranean United Nations”

Multiplayer Team Sizes

What’s the ideal number of players to have online in the same instantiation of the game world at the same time in a multiplayer game? Obviously, this depends on what kind of multiplayer it is, but the spectrum of answers doesn’t really go from 2 to 10,000 the way you’d expect. Fundamentally, there are four different sizes a multiplayer game can be, and while I think the smallest size could possibly benefit from being split up into two or three different chunks, I also think the larger size might actually be a bad idea that was only adopted because it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Militaries across the world and history have had widely varying unit sizes, but once formation fighting began to decline and the number of guys you needed to stand in a row in order to block a mountain pass was no longer a deciding factor, everyone pretty quickly settled on a very similar optimum setup. Not only that, but you can see this optimum setup come up in ancient and medieval militaries whenever the concerns of formation fighting didn’t present a larger concern. This is because humans are hard-wired to work in groups of a certain size, which means the squad, the platoon, and the company show up over and over again throughout history (larger units have less to do with the fundamental psychology common to nearly all humanity and more to do with how the bureaucracy of your specific organization happens to be structured – in the case of translating this to MMOs, the bureaucracy is non-existent, so we don’t care). The squad of eight-ish, the platoon of forty-ish, and the company of 200-ish show up again and again, because eight-ish is the number of people who can stand around and have a conversation with each other, forty-ish is the number of people who can all work on the same thing without needing any layers of bureaucracy to stay coordinated, and 200-ish is the number of people who can maintain social bonds with one another.

Military organization gives us the most striking and easily observed example of this, because military organization explicitly splits people up into different groups of a specific size, which makes it easy to track how many people were in what units even thousands of years later, whereas it’s much harder to know after the fact what the size of cliques and parties was in the 18th century court of the Qing Dynasty or whatever. I use the military units as a shorthand, but this isn’t unique to military-themed games or even to games that involve combat. The basic pattern is a result of how humans socialized with one another and repeats everywhere.

You can have squad, platoon, or company-level games, and then you can also have games that are bigger than that, at which point automatic human socialization can no longer scale up to your total player population and you either have to impose a bureaucracy or just accept that the game is going to be a chaos of people not in any real communication with each other taking action with basically no concern for how anyone else will be impacted. Also, the company level can’t really be 200 people because your players have families and workplaces and stuff taking up some of the number of people they’re keeping track of. You can’t actually do a thing like real militaries do where you pluck someone out of society, put them in a barracks, and now the only people they interact with on a day to day or even month to month basis are other people in that barracks.

In a squad-level game, with 2-8 people in communication (whether that’s two squads of eight on opposing teams or an eight-way free-for-all with a voice chat or an eight-person co-op or what), everyone can always talk to everyone else, and once everyone knows each other’s voices, you can keep track of what everyone is saying to everyone else without any real organization. Every now and again there will be a multilogue where people are talking over each other, but people will automatically realize this is happening, stop, and you’ll even commonly hear statements like “Alice was saying something but I couldn’t hear it, what were you saying?” Even when people can’t hear over the multilogue, they can still hear and keep track of who’s talking, and you can untangle the knot in the aftermath. And we’re all so used to doing this kind of thing that we do it automatically.

I mentioned earlier that squad-level multiplayer games might be able to be broken down further, because I think there’s some visible gameplay differences between having two, four, or eight people on the same team. Not only does a one-on-one versus match feel very different to a four-way brawl, even a two-player and four-player co-op begin to take on very different feelings. As you get up to eight, it becomes much easier for a generally competent team to carry one or even two new players who don’t really know what they’re doing. Any number between two and eight-ish is enough to comfortably hold a conversation, but differentiating class roles and designing interesting levels seems to be much easier for four people than for eight, and it’s also a lot harder to wallflower when you’re one of only four people in a conversation as opposed to eight. You can have a conversation with eight people, but at that point the group has gotten big enough that usually you start having to fight for space a bit, speaking as soon as there’s a pause to get an idea out, and the conversation knots where multiple people are talking over each other and we have to untangle things afterwards start to become more common. We do sort of get a similar dynamic with higher levels of organization as well: 40-ish and 200-ish aren’t averages, but rather upper limits for the gameplay mood they deliver, and there will be a noticeable strain on the game as we reach them. Notably, D&D parties typically include 3-6 people plus a GM, which means they start at having four people in the conversation and stop one shy of having eight.

At the platoon level, the distinction between ten, twenty, or thirty people becomes less important, as what matters is that there are now too many people involved for everyone to be in the same conversation at the same time, but still few enough that everyone can keep track vaguely of what everyone else is doing right now and how they all feel about each other. You can’t have a forty-man raid team in the same voice chat without imposing some rules on who talks and when, but you can totally have a server with forty people on it wherein each person has a basic understanding of who does and doesn’t get along with who else in the server, and where you can usually find Alice or Bob when they’re in the game, and what those people are working on. Forty is really pushing it, and 20-30 is more ideal, but essentially this is the number of people who would get together and hunt a mammoth in the ancestral environment. It’s the size that classrooms gravitate towards.

You can use platoon-level as just upscaled squad-level, with lots of squads pursuing lots of objectives as in the MMO raid example, but I don’t think this is a good idea. Sure, it feels very epic the first time you do it, but it wears off quickly and pretty soon it’s just a bunch of admin for squad-level gameplay. Where platoon-level shines is in a group’s ability to engage in organic, long-term planning by splitting off into different squad-level groups trying to achieve different things. This is the MineCraft or the multiplayer survival game model (although MineCraft can scale both up and down from this level), where there’s about twenty to forty people on the server, and they tend to split up into groups of two to four or so, each focusing on their own goal but either helping other groups or antagonizing other groups or both, depending on what the game mechanics make possible or encourage. In most MineCraft servers, everyone splits off to build different mega-projects, but will come by to visit and swap and/or gift building materials to one another. In Ark: Survival Evolved, people will split up into little groups and murder people from other groups to try and seize materials or establish dominance. Either way, there’s a platoon-level community that organically breaks into smaller groups, which then interact with one another in a way that’s very comprehensible to everyone involved in each group. If you’re in group A and you don’t know how groups B and C feel about each other, it’s not because it’s too much to keep track of, it’s because you don’t care.

Company-level is dictated by the total number of other human beings that the average person can keep track of at once. In a company level game, there are way too many people for you to keep track of their individual relationships with every other individual on the server, but still few enough that after you’ve spent a few months getting to know everyone, you can recognize every other individual on the server. In small high schools, people commonly know most or all of the people in higher or lower grades. In larger high schools, they only know people from other grade levels who are specifically their friends or who share some kind of extracurricular activity with them, and otherwise only know people in their own grade. This is why.

In theory, company-level can be up to 200 people. In practice, all of your players have other social groups already taking up space in their head, which means you can’t have more than maybe 100 people in a company-level game. We don’t see a whole lot of games using the 100-ish person level, except for battle royale games, which are really a series of squad-level encounters being organically strung together. I think the ideal scenario for a company-level server size is actually an MMORPG, though. Your standard theme park deal where you run around completing quests and gathering loot and such. We’re past the point where people can easily keep track of one another’s goals and relationships with everyone else, but still at the point where everyone can recognize everyone else. This is ideal for a video game that is more like a place you can visit than a match you can win or a world you can alter. With this many people running around, it’s difficult to keep track of who might aid or interfere with your long-term goals, but in an MMORPG you don’t really have to care so much. You have a checklist of (hopefully) cool stuff to do, you do as much stuff on that checklist as you like, and along the way you meet other people who are also doing cool stuff and become part of a community. It’s hard to keep track of how everyone feels about everyone else, but you aren’t trying to do anything complex or map-altering, so it’s not as important to keep track of whose toes you might be stepping on with your project.

That brings us to massively multiplayer level, where you have over a hundred people online on any given server at any given time, often thousands, forming a server community of tens of thousands of active players. And I’m not convinced this should even be a thing. The most common result seems to be that most people just check out and play like it was single-player. When communities do form, they tend to be of a couple dozen people anyway. Whenever a group organizing 100+ people does cohere, it’s usually by creating some kind of bureaucracy to help manage it, and, really, is that a good thing?

Now, there are occasionally things done in MMOs that require very large numbers of people, and which can’t be replicated by just having a very large number of people in a Discord or lobby who then split off into smaller servers to play together. Like, City of Heroes has costume contests that couldn’t plausibly attract the number of contestants they do if there were only 100-200 people per server. Guild Wars 2 has spontaneous world events triggered by lots of people just happening to be in the same place at the same time, which can only happen on servers large enough that you occasionally just get like forty people in the same area of the game without anyone planning it in advance. I really don’t think it’s worth it, though, especially since things like the CoH costume contest example can easily be replicated by just having a special server for costume contests. People sign up, import their costume, attend the contest, then go back to their regular server when it’s done. Most people do this already, just importing their character to whatever server the contest is being held on, the only difference would be having a dedicated contest server instead of picking one of the regular ones.

The last time I speculated on the optimal way to run an MMO, I pointed out that it was kind of moot, because MMOs have very large up front development costs and are no longer very popular. Existing MMOs can keep the lights on with a very small player count sustaining them, but making new ones is basically out of the question. So, talking about how MMOs would be better off with a hundred times as many servers a hundredth of the usual size rather than the current setup of a dozen-ish servers each capable of hosting like ten thousand players, that’s all of mainly academic interest anyway.

But for the record, I’d really like a 100-person MMO server, and if we could get that four-hour day/night cycle I was talking about earlier while we’re at it, that’d be great. And could it also have a good terrain traversal mechanic, where you have to climb and swim and glide and stuff? Y’know, since MMOs are really good at being a place that you go to, having the terrain itself be more interactable would be really nice. Oh, and do the Guild Wars 2 thing where quests give rise to other quests in a way that non-permanently affects the map in a cycle, so winning quest A leads to quest B, losing it leads to quest C, and it all eventually loops back in on itself. And have the more action-oriented combat, too, like, with dodge rolls and stuff, and where the angle you hit an enemy from makes a difference. And a system whereby mob factions will fight with each other and with town NPCs, spreading out across the map and capturing towns until players drive them out, which could integrate into those quest cycle things I mentioned earlier, so, like, if the NPC orcs go unchecked for too long they’ll eventually invade the local quest hub and take over, and then the only quests available in the region have to do with driving them back out until the quest hub is liberated and things go back to normal. And there should be a vampire-themed class, too, just ’cause vampires are the best, with minion mastery gameplay, like, maybe a vampire with undead minions, or who can summon demons or something. And actually, can we have, like, a really broad set of potential powers like City of Heroes has, where each class has a primary and a secondary power selection and there are like fifteen options for each, allowing you to create nearly any power combination you can think of? And pair that with a really good character creator, too, one with lots of different options. Oh, and let the player decrease their own level if they want, so that they can face challenges they passed by on their way to the cap at the level they were intended for. And also could a percentage of the game’s gross income just get mailed to me as a check, without me having to worry about profits or put up any money for development or anything? Awesome, thanks.

Conan the Indomitable: Apparently What This Book Really Needed Was To Reintroduce Its Worst Character

Chapter Twelve

The dead fish raft is becoming unusable because apparently things have been feeding on it from below, but conveniently in such very small chunks and so infrequently that it didn’t just, y’know, be devoured entirely within a few hours. Conan and company ditch the boat, confident that they’ve eluded pursuit, because they could’ve taken any of the myriad passages leading away from the Sunless Sea. It apparently does not occur to them that someone might notice their boat and drastically narrow the number of possible exits to those in the boat’s immediate vicinity. Granted, the boat is made from a fish, which means it’s possible that pursuers won’t realize it was converted into a boat, but it’s also possible that they will, and this possibility is one that Conan, Elashi, and Tull all completely ignore. And while it takes him a bit, Deek does eventually realize that a fish is about the only thing that Conan could’ve made his boat from, and that the dead fish with he odd wounds they passed was probably carved up by a blade and used as a raft. Being cunning enough to understand things like “pursuers might recognize these cuts were artificial and continue their chase, we should not let our guard down” was actually pretty critical to Conan’s character once upon a time, but apparently not anymore.

And once the plot needs him to be clever, he suddenly is. Far more clever than the original stories posited, in fact. In Frost Giant’s Daughter, we establish that Conan is easily baited into a trap by pretty women. In some chronologies, this happens when Conan is like fifteen or sixteen years old, and makes a good deal of sense, but in the Tor chronology that this book operates off of, Conan is like twenty-something when that encounter happens, but he’s still fifteen or sixteen here, in Conan the Indomitable. Logically speaking, Conan should be pretty much helpless before the charms of the siren voice of the Webspinner Plants. So, y’know, maybe Elashi or Tull have to snap him out of it, like, maybe give Elashi any reason at all to even be in this story besides making it a direct sequel to Conan the Defiant and also letting Steve Perry hit his sexism quotas. But, no, Conan is suddenly good at resisting seduction, because if there’s one thing that’s characterized Conan in this story so far, it’s restraining himself from sexual interludes in situations where they might be dangerous.

Continue reading “Conan the Indomitable: Apparently What This Book Really Needed Was To Reintroduce Its Worst Character”

Conan the Indomitable: Twin Wizards

Chapter Eight

Katamay Rey and Chuntha are proving to be almost interchangeable. They’ll probably turn out to have different powers or something once they get more involved in the plot – or at least, I hope they do – but right now they send out their minions at about the same time, make contact with their minions demanding results at the exact same time, and lose patience and take matters into their own hands at the exact same time. That last one is what initiates this chapter, as the cyclops and the worm have both moved beyond the range of their respective masters’ ability to make contact with them. Even though they’re different means of magical communication that work slightly differently, they nevertheless both get out of range at the exact same time leading to both wizards to lose patience within a page of each other. The only real difference is this:

The man – the big, strong, handsome, virile man – might be escaping her cluthces even as she lay upon her bed dreading the very thought.

And also Chuntha is naked, for some reason. So, yeah. That’s the singular difference between Chuntha and Katamay Rey: Chuntha is a hot naked chick who really wants to bang the audience insert character. It’s 80s Conan, so it’s not like this kind of thing is unexpected, but still.

Also, Harskell, having retreated from the cavern with one of the bats, is now interrogating a Blind White. I guess Steve Perry just forgot which kind of creature they’d captured on the way out? I double-checked the end of chapter seven, it was definitely a wounded bat they collected on their way out.

Conan and company are sailing on the Sunless Sea, and Conan muses that anyone who tries to swim after them would likely end up devoured by some massive sea monster like the one whose corpse they converted into a raft. But why don’t the sea monsters come after them? They’re paddling a fresh corpse around! It’s still perfectly edible to sea monsters, and so are the passengers. It’s disturbing the water about as much as a swimming creature would. The raft behaves exactly like a wooden boat, though, including deterring predators from attacking because it magically doesn’t smell like meat.

The cyclops and the worm are starting to grow on one another as they continue to pursue Conan and company, finding some detritus of the raft construction and setting out for the Webspinner Plants’ lair in order to get a web boat to chase them with. At the same time, the two wizards are setting out in pursuit with small armies of their minions, so apparently Conan and Elashi have leveled up and the GM is now deploying higher CR opposition.

Continue reading “Conan the Indomitable: Twin Wizards”

Maquis

Maquis is a solitaire worker placement game about resisting Nazi occupation of a French village in WW2. It was on Kickstarter recently for its new and improved second edition (the differences in art are stark, but the side by side comparison shots are less informative about what mechanical differences, if any, there are), and I backed it, and then ended up playing it over Christmas break a couple of times. It’s quite a bit of fun, although as with nearly all solitaire (and fully cooperative) games, you will eventually solve the game, at which point you can tweak difficulty options up to the point where sheer dumb luck is absolutely required to win, keeping your win/loss ratio even but at the cost of reducing your game to all the complexity of Chutes and Ladders. Sure, there’s lots of suboptimal moves you could be making, but when you know what’s appropriate to every situation, you just do that and hope the cards don’t put Nazis on the locations you’d really like to place a worker right now.

I don’t know how a solitaire game can avoid this, though, and I really like how Maquis gives the feeling of being a resistance group. You have to keep clear routes open to your safehouse, because any worker who can’t get from where they’re placed to a safehouse at the end of the round is arrested and removed from the game, limiting the number of actions you can take in future rounds (and in some cases this causes their action not to complete). The Nazi deck can’t place a worker on a spot you’ve already occupied (except sometimes they can, but that’s an edge case I won’t get into), so you can build routes leading from your safehouse to where you need a worker, but then you might end up with a Nazi camping out on your destination. You could place a worker directly on the destination and hope to be able to build a safe route afterwards, which allows you to build that route based on where the Nazis don’t go, because there’s just about always at least two routes through, so if the Nazis cut one off, you can place workers on the other to keep it safe. In that case, however, you’re going all-in on your ability to keep at least one route safe, because you’ve already placed a worker at the destination, and if they get surrounded, you’re out of luck.

I keep saying “Nazis” but the normal police are actually Milice, French collaborators, and they can be shot dead if you’ve got a firearm to expend, clearing a route home. When that happens, though, the Nazis send in Wehrmacht to replace them, and these soldiers aren’t vulnerable to resistance guns (the manual explains that they’re too good at shooting back). So if you go out of your way to get yourself a gun, you can use it to clear out Milice in a pinch, but you really don’t want to, because the Milice numbers are determined in part by your own – if the resistance gets smaller, the Milice do, too. Not so for the Wehrmacht, though. Once they get put on the board, they’ll be there every additional round. Losing a resistance agent on a board full of nothing but Milice is something you can bounce back from most of the time, but losing a resistance agent on a board full of Wehrmacht can be the tipping point that sends you into a death spiral.

The game also has a diversity in both mechanics and theme for its objectives, ranging from easy objectives like distributing an underground newspaper to counter Nazi propaganda and painting anti-fascist graffiti around town, all the way on up to killing the Milice en masse and stockpiling a huge number of weapons for an uprising. Some of these require stockpiling a certain type of resource, others require visiting certain map locations (often risky ones with only one escape route), some require stockpiling a certain type of resource and then sending a guy with that resource to a certain map location, and of course there’s the one where you just kill every Milice.

As with all solitaire games, Maquis wears out its welcome faster than an equally well designed board game you’d play with other people, but it can be played without the effort of putting a group together and I was able to get through four or five games of it before getting bored, and that was in just a couple of days over Christmas vacation. Writing now from not quite a month later, I feel like playing it again.

Office Space

I’m super short on time lately. Not, like, “I don’t even have ten minutes spare,” but definitely to the point where getting an hour or two spare is getting very difficult. So I wanted to watch Office Space, a classic movie that came out when I was seven and which I still haven’t seen, realized that this was going to occupy the time I usually have for reading Conan the Indomitable for a blog post, and decided hey, I could write a blog post about Office Space instead, Conan will still be there tomorrow.

So Office Space is a 1999 movie about a guy who works at a generic 90s tech company and they’re bringing in some consultants to figure out who to fire. Our protagonist hates his job because his job is mired in pointless bureaucracy. He has eight bosses (the movie does not, unfortunately, then require him to traverse the grass world, desert world, ocean world, ice world, lava world circuit to kill them all), and they only ever talk to him about getting the right cover on TPS reports. The plot starts when Jimmy Protagonist’s girlfriend brings him to a hypnotherapist, who hypnotizes him into forgetting all his worries, and then has a heart attack before he can break the trance, putting Jimmy in a completely relaxed state permanently (hypnosis doesn’t actually work this way, incidentally, the trance wears off in like an hour if it’s not maintained, but it’s the premise of the movie, so we’ll roll with it). As a result, he barely comes into work, does basically nothing while he’s there, but the consultants absolutely love him and convince one of his bosses to give him a promotion while firing his two friends, who have actually been showing up to work. This snaps him out of the trance and leads to a scheme to steal money from the company. Hilarity ensues when the scheme goes wrong and the three risk getting caught, until an entirely unrelated disgruntled employee burns the building down, destroying all the evidence that a crime ever occurred and, through an unlikely coincidence, ends up with all the stolen money. The weird thing is the smoothness of the switch from a movie about a guy hypnotized out of all his work worries to a movie about a guy stealing hundreds of thousands of dollars from his abusive workplace.

Despite being the origin of the “that’d be real great” meme and the two Bobs brought in to consult being parodied in multiple places across the internet, Office Space is weirdly lacking in real laugh out loud moments or quotable lines. What it has is a really good sense of atmosphere. Just like the drudgery of the terrible workplace it’s making fun of, the comedy of Office Space accumulates over time, coming together to form an experience far stronger than any of its individual moments. No one moment of the abuse heaped up on the eventual arsonist is particularly hilarious, but as a running gag spaced across the entire movie, it’s great. The whole “that’d be real great” line from the movie isn’t really funny and I don’t know how it turned into a meme, but as one part of the terrible boss performance that stretches across the whole movie, it works.

I ended up liking Office Space better than movies which actually made me laugh, even though it didn’t. Funny thing is, I don’t think Office Space is really that much better of a movie than the rest, I just think it’s different enough that I’d rather have one Office Space than one more Groundhog Day or Anchorman or whatever. It kind of reminds me of how Simpsons jokes were, back in the days when they were actually good, structured such that it was impossible to stick a laugh track on, because the joke had multi-layered punchlines where one punchline serves as the setup for the next, chained together three or four times. Office Space is that, but with each joke spaced out over a 90 minute movie, all running in parallel.

Conan the Indomitable: Steve Perry May Actually Be Getting Good At This

Chapter Four

The length of their fall was nearly five spans; fortunately, the bottom of the descent was watery.

What’s the point of giving a numeric distance if it’s in a unit that no one knows? And I mean literally no one, because the “span” used here cannot possibly be the historical span, which was the span of your hand from thumb to pinkie. That’s like half a foot, so even with generous rounding we’re talking about a fall of like three feet, here. Clearly this “span” refers to something else. I’m guessing approximately one yard? Just because the author is American, will probably use American units, and five yards is about the distance that seems to have been fallen here. But American units of distance are already pretty old timey and archaic, you can seriously just use them and it makes perfect sense. A foot is roughly the length of a guy’s actual foot, a yard is roughly the length of a man’s stride, a mile was originally 2,000 yards (while marching, your left foot would hit the ground 1,000 times exactly in a mile) but due to conversion issues between Roman and British units wound up being 1,760 yards instead, and the league is about how far you can get walking in an hour. Almost no one uses leagues outside of fantasy context anymore, but they’re at least a sensible unit of distance for iron age peasants walking places. Inches are the only weird one, a length whose definition is three lengths of barleycorn because fuck you, that’s why, but once you’re using all the other units, you may as well use inches, too.

The water isn’t super deep, but Conan and Elashi soon encounter a White. A Blind White, which I think is just their full name, not a specific sub-type. In addition to being a white ape, these things also have oversized ears and no eyes at all, just smooth flesh and bone where the eyes would go on a normal primate. Likewise, we learn that the full name of the bats are “Bloodbats.” I guess that makes sense alongside “fruit bats.” We also learn the full name of the Webspinners is “the Webspinner Plants,” so not actually spiders. This isn’t a masterclass in worldbuilding or anything, but this underground world does get a little bit more interesting every time we learn more about it.

Conan and Elashi fight their way past the Blind Whites, and a three-way chase soon ensues. Katamay Rey’s cyclops minion has the Blind Whites on his side, while Chuntha’s giant worm has the Bloodbats and Webspinner Plants on his. Both of them want to catch Conan, although why isn’t clear. Steve Perry is really consistently good at these build-up scenes, where problems stack up behind our heroes, but he also consistently has them arrive one at a time and fail to do any lasting damage. They neither compound on one another by showing up all at once nor risk wearing our heroes down by noticeably fatiguing them, injuring them, or depleting any kind of limited resource from them. Instead of danger escalating to a moment of cathartic climax during which lots of tension is released and then begins building up again, the story follows roughly a bell curve, with dangers being introduced one by one and then resolved one by one. Of course, that all happened back in 1987. It’s not impossible that he’s shaken that habit here in 1989. We’ll see.

Oh, also, the two wizards are both making plans for what to do with Conan once they catch him, and it’s not clear why they care so much about him yet, but Katamay Rey plans on chopping up his parts for use as ritual components, while Chuntha plans of using him for sex magic. Because of course the female wizard draws her power from sex magic.

Continue reading “Conan the Indomitable: Steve Perry May Actually Be Getting Good At This”

Just Let Me Buy Your Fucking Video Game

Every now and again I end up playing a bunch of mobile games, usually because I’m traveling for a couple of days and have to rely on my phone for entertainment for hours at a time, and then I keep playing whatever games actually ended up engaging me for a couple weeks more. There’s a lot of mobile games that remind me in a good way of the days I spent on Kongregate back around 2006-2010 or so, playing through games that had strong basic gameplay and which were an absolute blast for the one to three hours they lasted.

Of course, mobile games aren’t made for the sheer joy of creation the way old flash games were. They’re made for profit. Fair enough, I’m not a broke high school student anymore, I can jolly well pay three dollars for a game that I like. If I find the thirty second ad between each level to be aggravating, that’s a good litmus test: Do I want to pay three dollars to have this game without ads, or do I want to uninstall it and look for something else?

But here’s the absolutely bizarre thing: Most games won’t even give me the option. Johnny Trigger is a game where the eponymous gunman sprints through a level and you have to tap to fire at the right time to shoot enemies on the way, otherwise they’ll shoot you. It’s fun, and I wouldn’t mind paying two or three bucks for an experience without ads, but there’s no option for one. Golf Hit reminds me of Learn To Fly, in that it’s one of those games where you launch a thing a certain distance, get money based on the distance, and use that to upgrade the thing and the launcher in order to send it further. Its pace slows down abysmally once you get about halfway through its unlockable costumes, but I only figured that out because its ads stopped loading about twenty minutes into my tooling around with it, and I then spent something like three or four hours playing the game until it reached the boring part where progress dropped off. And there’s no option to buy your way into faster progress with microtransactions, let alone an option to just buy the non-ad version of the game.

I could get behind the spammed-with-ads-version-as-free-demo model, but the option to buy off the ads is bizarrely absent from a lot of these games.