How Much Star Wars Is There?

If you wanted to consume all Star Wars content, could you do that? How much of your life would be dedicated to this project?

You may be surprised to learn that the answer is “yes” and “less than a decade.” I’m assuming that this is a primary hobby but not a job, so you can dump about an hour a day on workdays and two and a half on the weekends for 10 hours a week and 500 hours a year. You can get way higher than this if your life exists to facilitate consumption of Star Wars content, even if you have to work a normal day job to feed that, and even so, while this will be a massive part of your life for several years, it’s surprisingly doable.

I am making a few assumptions about what counts as “all Star Wars content,” however. First, I’m assuming you have streaming access to all content already, so the question of “how do you watch every episode of Ewoks” is presumed to be “in sequential order” without bothering with how easy it is to actually get access to a show from the 80s that got ignored by canon even before Disney took over. Second, I’m assuming you don’t really care about special editions, HD rereleases, ports and adaptations, and so on. Once you’ve watched A New Hope, you’re good, you don’t need to read the novelization and play Super Star Wars, too. You’re in it for the complete story of Star Wars, but you don’t feel the need to watch the theatrical cut, special edition, and HD remaster of the Original Trilogy, any more than you feel the need to acquire every DVD copy of Return of the Jedi and watch the contents of each disc separately just in case there are minute differences.

I also assume you don’t care about action figures or other collectibles where acquiring them is the experience. At that point, it’s not a matter of scheduling, it’s a matter of your means.

Movies

Dead simple. Fifteen movies (three trilogies, Clone Wars, Rogue One, Solo, two Ewok movies from the 80s, and the Holiday Special, although even someone who is asking for all of the Star Wars might draw the line at that last one), so that’s going to be fifteen weekend viewings, or a little under two months’ worth without touching the weekdays or doing a single weekend marathon for something like an entire trilogy.

TV Shows

This isn’t just doable for someone who sets out to consume all Star Wars content as a significant life goal. This is a thing anyone who really likes Star Wars will get 80% of the way towards on accident. Almost every Star Wars TV show and movie is something you’ve actually heard of and you might have already seen over half of them. You know about Clone Wars, Rebels, Resistance, the Bad Batch, the Mandalorian, Andor, etc. etc., and depending on when you grew up, odds are decent you’ve already seen large chunks of at least one or two of those series’. The only Star Wars shows that you might not have heard of are Droids, Ewoks, Visions, and Tales, and maybe some of the live action ones have slipped past you like The Acolyte, since Disney really is starting to machine gun them out so fast that you might need an actual list in front of you to keep track of them all.

And since these shows gravitate towards being either 22 minute episodes for a half-hour TV bloc (with commercials) or 44 minutes for an hour long bloc (with commercials), that means you can watch one or two per weekday with space left over for other small content like comics. There’s a total of 260-ish weekdays per year and less than 520 episodes of Star Wars content across all series’ (even counting shorts), so after two years you will run out even without ever touching your weekends, let alone doing a six-hour weekend marathon for something like Andor or the first season of the Mandalorian.

Comics

There are over a thousand Star Wars comics, but believe it or not, provided you don’t have to worry about collecting physical issues, this is one of the easiest mediums to get caught up on for Star Wars. A single comic only takes about 15-20 minutes to read, which means the entire 1200-ish comics in all of Star Wars, Legends and Canon, can fit into a single year. Realistically, you probably want to read one issue a day over the course of about 5 years, combining it with 40-45 minutes of other content on weekdays and slipping some into the margins on weekends when the movie (or whatever) only takes up 130 of the 150 minutes you have.

Books

There are something like 400 Star Wars books across both Legends and Canon. A few dozen of these are novelizations of movies or TV shows, but most of the books released under the brand of a TV show are original stories with the same characters, era, and tone as the TV show. A lot of them are young adult or middle grade novels that can be read in a single weekend (the average adult reads about 30,000 words in two and a half hours, for 60,000 words across two days of the weekend), but the X-Wing novels tend to be two weekends’ worth of reading individually and there’s ten of them. If we try to leave these to the weekends, then even granting that half of them will take only one weekend, that’s still 600 weekends or over ten years’ worth.

But we do have spare time on the weekdays in years 3-5 when TV shows give out but the comic a day is still only taking up 20 minutes of the hour of time set aside, and novels are going to be read in multiple sessions anyway, so we can treat them as a bit more of a liquid to be poured into glasses than we do the comics, movies, or TV shows where we want each film/episode to be finished in a single day.

Doing some quick calculations on 400-ish books each taking an average of 4-ish hours (averaging between young adult and adult novels), there’s 1600 hours of content here, and 40 minutes of spare time in each weekday in which we are reading a comic issue but have no more Star Wars TV to watch. That comes out to 10 hours of reading time for every 3 weeks, across the three remaining years we’re reading comics for, that is 520 hours, plus 780 hours from the weekends of those years and we have 1300 hours, but we also have the weekends from after we ran out of movies but before we ran out of TV shows, which give us another 480 hours for 1780 hours total.

This means that if you start reading books on the weekends once you run out of movies, and then start reading books on the weekdays in addition to your one issue of a comic book once you run out of TV shows, you will run out all existing Star Wars books about five months before you’ve run out of comic books. The only reason the comics have lasted so long is because we’re so lackadaisical about them – one issue per weekday, usually only twenty minutes, as opposed to books, which are 40 minutes a weekday plus 150 minutes each on Saturday and Sunday. But we will finally run out of them once we get into our last category.

Video Games

There’s about 50 video games, with wildly varying play times. Some of these fit within 10 hours (Republic Commando) and others represent hundreds of hours by themselves (the Old Republic). Discounting the MMORPGs, 20 hours is a fairly reasonable average, which means the 180 hours of time left over from the books isn’t even getting us a fifth of the way through, but it will take less than 2 years to get through the remaining 80%+.

You’d probably want to intermix novels and video games on the weekends rather than doing several years of intermixed comics, novels, and TV shows followed by several years of pure comics and novels followed by a few months of video games and comics followed by a year and a half of pure video games, but in terms of “how long does this take” the answer is 7 years. Rounding up to a decade should comfortably account for any slop in the calculations.

Achilles and the Franchise

What about the additional content released during that decade, though? Will you ever catch up?

Well, they release about one Star Wars movie, 2-3 seasons of Star Wars TV, and less than one Star Wars video game per year (seriously, Jedi Survivor was the only 2023 game, Squadrons was 2020, Fallen Order was 2019, the release pace is glacial). All those put together represent less than a month’s worth of content. Estimating comics and novels is slightly harder because there’s more of them, but it seems like there’s a few dozen comics per year which accounts for 1-2 weeks’ worth of content and roughly 5-10 novels per year, which represents about 2 months’ worth of content. Totaled up, Star Wars content comes out about 25% as fast as it can be consumed, which means at the end of the seven year project there will be an additional 1.75 years of content, and at the end of that there will be another four-ish months’ of content, and at the end of that another month-ish of content, and then a week, and then two weekdays’, and then a single twenty minute comic issue, and then we round down to zero, and you total that all up and you will need about two years on top of the initial seven years to consume all the content that came out during those seven years.

If we take the ten year estimate, it takes about three and a half years before you catch up on what came out during that decade, so the total time to catch up is about thirteen and a half years.

There is a lot of Star Wars, but it is surprisingly doable to become “the Star Wars guy” who knows all of the Star Wars. It requires sustained effort over a very long period of time, but not at an intensity that would be impractical to sustain for such a long time.

It’s Not Always The Fans’ Fault

Fans are prone to certain annoying behaviors regarding unreasonable expectations of hyper-consistency from media, to the point where it’s detrimental to the media itself. I say that, but I’m honestly not certain how true it is, because I know examples where the fans were not to blame for settings hemming themselves in with lore, but I can’t actually think of examples where this problem actually did happen in response to fan demand. Star Trek is the stereotypical example of fans having a higher demand for lore consistency than creators, but I haven’t actually checked. Is that true?

The most egregious example of people blindly assuming that a lore tumor was the result of creators giving into fans is the Zelda timeline. It’s not an uncommon opinion that the Zelda games are meant to be retellings of the same basic story with new twists, a legend with no specific continuity, and that the fan efforts to impose a timeline on them are to the detriment of the games, especially when the games feel pressured to play along with things like the Hyrule Historia releasing official timelines and cramming in games that clearly want to be their own thing into the timeline.

That sounds like a thing fans would do, but it is a matter of historical fact that this is not the case. Every problem with the Zelda timeline, including the existence of a Zelda timeline at all, is Nintendo’s fault. The “the games are just legends with no specific timeline and which frequently retell the same story in different ways” interpretation is a fanon retcon that ignores the lore of the games. Not supplemental material like the Hyrule Historia book, but the games themselves.

The first game in the series is the Legend of Zelda. The Adventure of Link is a direct sequel. A Link to the Past is declared a prequel by its title and the back of the box – this is only true in English, the Japanese title and marketing is different, so it does seem like the developers intended Link to the Past to be a Super Nintendo remake of the NES original similar to Super Castlevania IV, but the fans are not to blame for taking Nintendo of America at their word. Ocarina of Time is a direct prequel to Link to the Past, depicting the events of Link to the Past’s opening cut scene. Majora’s Mask is a direct sequel to Ocarina of Time. Wind Waker is also a direct sequel to Ocarina of Time. Twilight Princess is also also a direct sequel to Ocarina of Time. Every one of these three games makes explicit references back to Ocarina of Time without referencing one another, in addition to Ocarina having been a prequel to Link to the Past in the first place – this is where most of the trouble comes from. And then Phantom Hourglass is a direct sequel to Wind Waker, and Spirit Tracks is a direct sequel to Phantom Hourglass. Skyward Sword is not a direct prequel to any specific title (it makes no reference to the plot of any game besides itself), but it is very explicitly the first game on the timeline.

By the time the Hyrule Historia was released in 2011, the only Zelda games that did not have explicit placements on the timeline were the handheld games Link’s Awakening, Oracle of Ages/Seasons, and Minish Cap, plus the Four Swords multiplayer mode for the Link to the Past Gameboy Advance port and the Four Swords multiplayer game made for Gamecube based on that mode.

Even if we count the original Legend of Zelda and Link to the Past as retellings of the same story and thus not on the same timeline as one another, and remove Adventure of Link as being lore-incompatible with Link to the Past’s version and therefore also count it as incompatible with the timeline, that still means eight games are in some kind of timeline with each other (Link to the Past, Ocarina of Time, Majora’s Mask, Wind Waker, Twilight Princess, Phantom Hourglass, Spirit Tracks, Skyward Sword), while another eight are free floating with no connection to the main timeline (Legend of Zelda, Adventure of Link, Link’s Awakening, Oracle of Ages, Oracle of Seasons, Minish Cap, Four Swords, Four Swords Adventure). And those eight games include the Oracle pair in continuity with one another and the first two games in continuity with one another, and also includes Four Swords mode as a game unto itself rather than a prototype for Four Swords Adventure. And also most of these games weren’t made by the main Zelda team, and exactly zero of them are incompatible with the main timeline – most of them can be dropped in wherever and it’s fine. The timeline snarl comes from games in the main timeline, because they are mutually incompatible sequels to Ocarina of Time.

By the time Hyrule Historia came out, the point when Nintendo allegedly gave in to fan demand and cranked out a half-assed timeline because the fans were desperate for all the games to be in continuity with one another, fully half of all Zelda games were in a timeline with each other, including all the ones that made the timeline hard to keep straight.

Think that having a contrived three-way timeline split is the fans’ fault? Nope, Hyrule Historia invented that. The idea that there is a timeline where Link died and that’s why Hyrule is in decline in the original Legend of Zelda game and its sequel was not really something any fans were talking about before Hyrule Historia had a three-way timeline split.

Think that having multiple timelines at all is the fans’ fault? Still no, this was not a fan invention while trying to reconcile the mutually incompatible Wind Waker and Majora’s Mask, this was something Nintendo devs said in interviews before Wind Waker came out.

Twilight Princess isn’t hard to place on a timeline because it wasn’t intended to be part of a timeline in the first place. Twilight Princess is hard to place on a timeline because it was intended to be part of a timeline, and it turns out the timeline was bad.

Star Wars Needs Fewer Planets

I’ve been watching Generation Tech lately, a YouTube channel that covers Star Wars lore, usually revolving around the space tech and tactical doctrine or logistical efforts of the wars in the stars, i.e. what is an AT-AT’s purpose on the battlefield and why is it designed the way it is (answer: It’s a platoon-size IFV designed to be level with the skyline in most cities so that rebels can’t get above it, which makes it more intimidating, as per the Tarkin Doctrine).

One thing that keeps coming up in an annoying way is that the Star Wars galaxy has a million or more habitable planets. This leads to things like the Imperial Navy having 25,000 star destroyers at its height, and that’s for a navy that’s stretched thin, only able to directly occupy 2.5% of the planets they nominally govern. While it makes sense that they can’t mobilize the whole navy to go to Endor because they need some for patrol duty and occupation of trouble spots, it makes the battle seem pointlessly small if the entire Rebel Navy is there (Palpatine expects the Rebellion to be pretty much finished if they lose), is badly outmatched by the Death Squadron of star destroyers, and Death Squadron is struggling to reach 0.1% of the size of the total Imperial Navy.

Star Wars generally uses planets as though they were small countries: They have a single important city on them surrounded by lots of sparsely populated rural or frontier countryside. There’s clearly lots of small towns and countryside on Naboo, but the only major city we ever hear about is Theed, which is a pretty mid-size city. There’s probably other cities on the planet, but not many, and no megalopolises like Tokyo or New York City that we have here in our one-planet civilization. The Organa family might live in the countryside apart from major cities (medieval and Renaissance aristocrats did this, and they’ve kind of got that vibe), but certainly what we see of Alderaan (a core world!) suggests that there are like twelve cities total on this planet and they’re all pretty small, with forests for child princesses to impulsively wander off into within easy walking distance. Kashyyyk doesn’t seem to have any major cities at all, just small towns and villages peppered across the planet. Coruscant leaps to mind as an exception, where the parts we see are a small country centered on the Senate and Jedi Temple but there’s definitely a very densely populated entire planet beyond that, but there’s not many planets like that.

And if planets are like small countries, there’s only 200-ish countries on Earth, and even accounting for the fact that some of those countries are big countries that would be represented by multiple planets in Star Wars (space California and space Texas could be smushed together into one planet, but you wouldn’t expect it to be), 1,000 habitable planets is more than enough to cover everything Star Wars needs to. Yes, this means only a puny fraction of planets are habitable, but that was already the case. The Star Wars galaxy is about the same size and shape as the Milky Way, which means there are hundreds of billions if not trillions of planets in it, which means even the highest numbers given for the habitable number (“millions”) is well under 0.01% of the total. Since habitable planets are super rare no matter what, let’s cut them down to a number that’s both big enough that we’ll never plausibly outrun it when making up new planets yet also small enough that it’s believable that a battle for one planet matters.

The only reason Star Wars media is anywhere near exceeding a thousand named planets is because people keep inventing new planets unnecessarily. The mainline movies, TV shows, and video games do not do this, and while I’m less familiar with them, I can’t imagine the novels or comics are doing it that much. There’s like a thousand issues of Star Wars comics total, across all of time, so in order to run out of planets they would have to be introducing about one new planet per issue, which they don’t, and there’s only about 400 novels. Novels are more likely to introduce a new planet or even several than comics because they’re longer stories, but also a lot of the “novels” are actually YA books which visit fewer planets because they aren’t that much longer than a single issue of a comic. Plus, most of these stories reuse some of the 100+ planets already established rather than make new ones up.

And at this point an emphasis on reusing planets instead of making new ones up would serve Star Wars pretty well. It’s pretty telling of JJ Abrams’ flaws as a Star Wars creator that he felt like he needed to invent new planets, but the best he could come up with was Jakku, which was Tattooine with a “welcome to Jakku” sign slapped on. The only reason Jakku needs to be a separate planet from Tattooine is because of its backstory, which was not referenced by the movies in any way. Jakku is a mid-rim planet between Endor and Coruscant and the site of a battle between the Rebellion and the Empire in the aftermath of Endor, which is why there’s all these defeated Imperial wrecks lying around.

As far as I can tell this backstory was created by people trying to contrive reasons why this place that is clearly identical to Tattooine could justifiably be a new planet, and all they could come up with is that it is located in a different part of the galaxy. Sometimes that’s justified. Hoth and Rhen Var are both ice planets, Rhen Var has mountains but so what? Hoth could’ve had some mountains on it far away from Echo Base. But Rhen Var also has Sith ruins on it, which means it’s in ancient Sith space, like Yavin 4. If they put those ruins on Hoth instead of making a new planet, that means ancient Sith space covered most of the galaxy. If they moved Hoth to be closer to Yavin 4, that means the Rebels’ secret backup base was pretty close to their original secret base which makes them look like a regional nuisance, not one side of a Galactic Civil War. Rhen Var legit needs to be a new place even though it’s an uninhabited ice planet just like Hoth, purely because of the astrographic implications of Hoth having a Sith ruin on it.

Jakku, though? Sure, if the Battle of Jakku happened between the Battle of Endor and the Rebellion capturing Coruscant then it needs to be in the Mid Rim. But there’s no reason for the timeline to be like that, and Jakku has really strong Outer Rim vibes and is also clearly just Tattooine with a crashed star destroyer on it. So here’s a better backstory for Rey on Tattooine: The Battle of Endor is in the year 4 ABY. Rey was born in 15 ABY. The Battle of Starkiller Base is exactly 30 years later, 34 ABY, when Rey was about nineteen (about the same age as Luke at the Battle of Yavin). This is all from the existing canon, so how can we fit a Battle of Tattooine in to leave a star destroyer lying around for Rey to scavenge there by 34 ABY?

In the immediate aftermath of the Galactic Civil War, the New Republic fought on-and-off regional wars with Imperial remnants, especially in the Outer Rim. The Outer Rim had always been mostly de jure independent and after consolidating the Core and some key Rebel planets like Mon Cala, the New Republic was mostly willing to play nice with Imperial remnants in other parts of the galaxy, especially the Outer Rim, but sometimes those Imperial remnants poked the New Republic, resulting in a small war. In 14 ABY, ten years after the Battle of Endor, an Imperial remnant fleet caught up in one of these regional wars had fled to Tattooine and made their last stand against New Republic forces there. Because of the remote location of the battle, the New Republic never bothered salvaging the Imperial wrecks. They didn’t want Tattooine, they just wanted to make sure this specific fleet would not make incursions into Republic space again, so job done, they leave.

Scavengers descend on the planet to salvage advanced, military-grade Imperial technology like turbolasers and AT-AT cannons and twin-ion engines. Rey’s parents meet during this gold rush and have a kid in 15 ABY. Two or three years later, the really valuable stuff is gone, and Rey’s parents leave the planet. Unable to afford a kid now that the gold rush years are over (and having squandered all the money they made during the gold rush on living large), they leave her as well. The Imperial wrecks are still full of lighting fixtures and regular old power conduits like the kind they sell for twenty credits at Space Target, because the gold rush scavengers walked right past all of those to get to stuff that cost tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, or millions of credits to build, which could be salvaged for a year’s worth of pay even at pennies on the dollar. What’s left is still enough to make a respectable living on if your standard for “respectable” is moisture farmers and cantina rats, but it requires spending all day scavenging half-functional parts worth just one or two credits each. Nobody wants to live on Tattooine and the people who already live there mostly already have jobs that are less dangerous or more profitable (in the latter case, because of crimes), so even fifteen years later there’s still some salvage left if you know where to look (star destroyers are big), but the last few scraps are finally starting to get picked clean. Open the curtain on Rey in 34 ABY.

I think Star Wars creators are in the habit of adding in one-off planets because this helped make the galaxy feel very big and believable for a long time. Han Solo makes a one-off comment about a bounty hunter on Ord Mantell and it helps make the galaxy feel like there’s more to it than just what was purpose-built for our protagonists. But we’re long past the point where adding in more and more planets makes the galaxy feel believably large and have reached the point where new planets make the galaxy feel unbelievably large, so large that it’s difficult to see how our protagonists could possibly be having an impact on it. The Galactic Senate chamber is not big enough for a million worlds, the Rebel fleet at Endor is not big enough to stand a ghost of a chance against 25,000 star destroyers even given a descent into chaos following the death of the Emperor, the Battle of Christophsis can’t possibly be significant for a war between factions that each control hundreds of thousands of planets.

Back in Empire Strikes Back, Star Wars had already established the significance of individual planets (roughly equivalent to a small country), but had only named Tattooine, Alderaan, Dantooine, Yavin IV, Hoth, Bespin, and Dagobah. So when Han Solo needs a throwaway line about an encounter with a bounty hunter shaking him up, it’s a good idea to drop a one-off reference to Ord Mantell, some planet we’ve never heard of before and which there are currently no plans to use in any movie or spin-off material. There’s at least a few hundred and probably about a thousand planets out in the galaxy, when we’ve named a grand total of seven of them, the odds that any random planet referred to would be one of those seven is struggling to reach 1% even before considering how remote and backwater most of those planets are. But that was a long time ago. We have hundreds of Star Wars planets now, so it’s not weird that when one comes up, it tends to be one we’ve already heard of.

You Could Make A Measurement System Based On The Speed Of Light

Idle sci-fi worldbuilding idea: A measurement system based on the speed of light would make a reasonable amount of sense. It would still be nailed to Earth units of time, but if we assume that a healthy human sleep/wake cycle is 24 hours long regardless of what the lighting situation is (has anyone actually studied this?), then we’ll carry that length of day in our biology even as we leave behind the planet that evolved it into us. And light distances mostly conform really well to easily managed 1-100 scales for most human use cases.

A light nanosecond is almost the length of one foot. That means it’s a good length for measuring the size of things that are close to human scale. Human height is measured in a single digit number of light nanoseconds. It is slightly annoying to express small lengths like we usually use inches or centimeters for as hundreds of light picoseconds, but people who use meters have the reverse problem where you have to use decimal points all the time because most humans are between one and two meters tall and there’s never any riots demanding a return to imperial measurements.

A light microsecond is a really good unit of distance for overland travel. The average human can walk a light microsecond in a couple of minutes, and can walk about sixteen light microseconds per hour, so human walkable distances largely go from a scale of one (for something that can just barely be described as going for a walk rather than going down the street) to one hundred (for something that will require several hours, approaching the limit of what a reasonably fit but untrained human can walk if they set aside the day for it).

Car speeds largely go from 100 microseconds/hour for residential distances to 500 microseconds/hour (US speed limits usually cap out around 430 microseconds/hour, but most people end up going ~450 anyway, and it’s easy to imagine a society built around this measurement system using 100-500 as “car speed”). This isn’t quite as snug as nanoseconds to microseconds because now instead of a 1-100 scale that keeps commonly used distances to double-digits. If you’re in any kind of hurry, you’ll take the car for anything that would take more than 5-10 light microseconds, and the upper limit of a day trip in a car is well over a light millisecond. A light millisecond is about 186 miles, which is far past the limit of being a quick car ride but well under the limit of how far a car can take you in a day.

On the other hand, light milliseconds do lend themselves really well to measuring the distances for flights. A distance of less than one millisecond is generally too short to be worth going to the airport for, an NYC to Singapore flight is about fifty milliseconds, and the circumference of Earth is about 134 milliseconds. It’s hard to doublecheck the shortest commercial flight distance because the low end of that scale is taken up by trips that are well within driving distance but there’s water in the way and trips are infrequent enough that it’s not worth it to build a bridge. London to Paris is slightly more than one light millisecond and they built a tunnel under the English Channel because people were getting annoyed at having to take a plane for that distance. It’s definitely rare for any single-trip distance on Earth to be anywhere near the 100 milliseconds at the top of a 1-100 scale, on account of the Earth is a sphere so if you’re going 80 milliseconds it’s basically guaranteed that you could go the other way around and get there in 60 or less.

One full light second is about the distance of the Earth to the moon, and intrasolar distances are frequently measured in light minutes in the inner solar system and light hours in the outer solar system because those are already the most convenient units to use. The inner solar system keeps to 1-100 light minute scale while the entire solar system is about 22 light hours across, so even in the outer solar system where the distance from one object to another might be, depending on orbits, hundreds or even low thousands of light minutes away, distances in light hours are always manageably low numbers.

As you get into sci-fi intergalactic distances, you quickly run into the problem that the galaxy is a heccin chonker 100,000 light years across, and that’s not unusably large the way trying to measure galactic distances in miles or kilometers is (although metric has the advantage of being able to scale up to petameters and exameters), but it does massively exceed the 1-100 scale I’ve been trying to keep to. Of course, to actually use that space you must necessarily be using FTL travel of some kind, at which point you are making up how fast things go and may as well invent some hypertech excuse why light speed travel is measured in kiloyears on major trade spines but goes down to lightyears per hour (or per day or per week, depending on how isolated you want solar systems to be) outside of the main hyperspace routes.

Fractions of the speed of light are a futuristic, science-y kind of measurement tied to a fundamental law of physics and a unit of time that, while arbitrary, is probably pretty deeply tied to human biology, and it works really well for measuring the size of things at roughly human scale in light nanoseconds, walking distances in light microseconds, flight distances in light milliseconds, distances within solar systems in light seconds, minutes, and hours depending on the exact region, and distances between solar systems in light years (although that last one’s a freebie because the propulsion systems and frequency of landmarks worth caring about is up to the author anyway).

It’s annoying how car distances straddle the microsecond/millisecond line, but it’s otherwise very usable and fairly easy for readers to translate, easy enough that it might not be frustrating in use – provided that your plot doesn’t deal with the ugly car distance microsecond/millisecond overlap, because while I think people can quickly grok “walking distance is measured in microseconds, in-atmosphere flights are measured in milliseconds, and they both go on a scale of 1-100,” the hundreds of microseconds to whole milliseconds scale of car travel means they’ll start trying to convert to miles or kilometers in their head or treat the distances as white noise. And while you can make atmospheric flights stretch up to 100 milliseconds by making planes faster (while the bottom of the scale remains the same because it’s controlled by the point at which a car is slow enough to justify a plane, not the point at which the plane is too fast) and just not use the top 50 points of the scale because Earthlike planets aren’t that big and it’ll still work, you can’t do the same for cars because humans aren’t getting any faster so you cannot make a 300 microsecond trip reasonable walking distance, but cars are already too fast to reasonably be capped at sub-millisecond distances. Getting around that would require significant worldbuilding oriented around making this distance system reader-friendly enough to be usable.

I’m not really going anywhere with this, I have no plans for this measurement system and am not working on anything remotely Star Trek-ish enough to bother using it. So this is one of the random research project posts.

Far Cry 6 Is Phoning It In

I can now confirm that the rumors are true: Far Cry 6 is another Far Cry game. One of the games of all time. A game that was released in 2021 and continues to exist.

I said that Watch_Dogs was a 2014 game not just in the sense that it was literally released in 2014 and takes place roughly then, but in the sense that 2014 was the sub-genre. It was a game about how people thought the world worked in 2014. Like, obviously no one thought that Chicago literally had a city-wide surveillance network being manipulated by dueling hacker outlaws at the time, nor did anyone believe that exact course of events would occur or that the hacker battles envisioned by Watch_Dogs wouldn’t end up being far more spectacular and fun to play compared to real hacker battles. But people absolutely expected that a growing surveillance state would end up being a battleground for hacker groups and lone wolves. The fears and anxieties of 2014 were written deep into that game’s DNA.

And in the same way, Far Cry 6 is a 2020 game. While some lip service to the Far Cry series’ running thesis of “your player character skills of personal violence will only make things worse, you should just leave” is given, for the most part the revolutionaries are just the good guys. Anton Castillo does Far Cry’s charismatic villain thing, but his ideology is pretty vague. The rebels are left-coded, but it’s United States left-coding and this is pseudo-Cuba, which means Castillo’s entire regime is vaguely left-coded because of its anti-Americanism (something which aged especially poorly as the Republican Party doubled down on being the party of treason and surrender and the Democrats picked up the “vanguard of global democracy” position after the Republicans dropped it – a pivot that happened so fast I felt the need to throw in this parenthetical to remind current readers that in 2021, while a careful observer could see the tide had clearly shifted on this, the general consensus was still that the American right was more overtly patriotic than the American left).

Castillo gets called a fascist by the rebels, and his reserved, presidential demeanor prevents him from fighting against that accusation directly, but in interviews with the American media he criticizes the United States for its history of slavery, and while it’s a very valid criticism to say that the US media being unable to effectively grapple with assertions that having been a slave-owning terror state 160 years ago means America isn’t allowed to oppose slave-owning terror states in operation right now, the game frames this as Castillo being a villain with a point rather than getting away with remarkably stupid defenses because he’s taking advantage of a historically inept journalist industry. Castillo’s relationship to America frames him as Fidel Castro, but his backstory with the nation’s Communist rebels in 1967 frame him as Fulgencio Batista, and to the extent Anton Castillo defends himself from the association with Batista, it is to position himself as being more like Castro, rather than any attempt to suggest that Batista was better – they were both dictators, after all.

There’s even a Just Leave option near the end, but there’s no reason to believe that it’s a better option. Protagonist Dani seems to do better in it, but Castillo reasserts control over pseudo-Cuba and that sure seems to be bad. The rebels don’t seem to believe in anything besides Castillo being bad, but at minimum they’re probably going to do less slave labor and the only person who might’ve been seeking to become a new dictator gets killed in the final battle anyway, which results in Dani being offered the job of supreme leader and turning it down. This sure doesn’t seem like the foundation of a principled democracy, but as with most Far Cry games, the level of authoritarian torture horror that the current regime gets up to is high enough that installing a corrupt hybrid-regime will still be a noticeable improvement. You can ask questions about whether it was worth the war, but the war was ongoing when you got here, so the choice presented to the player character in the narrative and the player in mechanics is not whether you should have a war, but rather that, given there is a war ongoing, which side deserves to win. And the answer is just straightforwardly the rebels.

Anton’s princeling who he’s grooming for succession gets killed in the true ending where you actually finish the game and defeat Anton, but Anton is the one who killed him. Rebels sometimes do chaotic and unhinged things, but no one who didn’t have it coming ever seems to get hurt by it. So while you can Just Leave, it seems like your protagonist skills of incredible violence actually are totally helpful here, because the rebels are better than Anton (probably? It’s all vibes-based, so it’s hard to say for certain, but Anton has lots of very specific crimes and the worst thing the rebels ever do is kill a few specific prisoners of war – bearing in mind they are a revolutionary army with zero ability to hold them, so while the psychological precedent this sets in the minds of the revolutionaries is very bad, they don’t actually have better options, but also the game doesn’t even notice this) and the only thing keeping them out of power is insufficient violence.

Far Cry 5 had a problem where it acted liked it had a Just Leave theme but the problem is that you were playing as a character who was both native to and employed by the legitimate democratic government of the nation the game took place in. The way you get introduced to most (though not all) of the resistance members suggests you’re probably not local local, but you are not crashing into a foreign country to solve their problems with violence, you are defending your own country from an authoritarian theocracy attempting a coup.

In Far Cry 6, things seem to have gone full cargo cult, with a few elements of the Just Leave theme, like the charismatic villain and the shady allies, are retained because those are Far Cry-y, but the developers either forgot, never knew due to employee turnover, or have stopped caring that this is supposed to add up to a theme about the futility of violence to solve certain problems. In fairness, there’s not a whole lot of pro-regime change sentiment left in the audience these days, so the Far Cry series has kind of reached the point where its thesis gets a “yeah, no shit” reaction, but Far Cry 6 doesn’t have a new thesis to push, it just staggers forward, an undead game series that still has the trappings of a point about the regime change sandbox genre it’s a part of but no longer has a point to make about it – probably because the only other surviving series in that genre is Just Cause, who were taking the piss since at least Just Cause 2.

The other long-running theme of the Far Cry series is the Murder Vacation, and Far Cry 6 doesn’t fail this one as badly as it did Just Leave, but mostly because doing Far Cry-y things gets you surprisingly far. Even here, though, the focus seems less purposeful. You still have a wingsuit and little one-person helicopters like the ones you can rent for (relatively) cheap to fly around on vacation, but you also have proper military helicopters and tanks, so the wingsuit and puny vacation helicopters are no longer a consistently effective means of getting around. You still do lots of murder and the vacation-y mechanics are still around, but they’re so de-emphasized in favor of the new revolutionary tone that they can no longer meaningfully be called a theme of the game, so much as the theme of, like, two side quests.

Far Cry 6 kind of gropes its way towards a new theme, a theme of gritty, bloody revolution, of revolutionaries who have legitimate grievances but also show the scars of trauma inflicted by those grievances. And while it would be kind of disappointing to see them move onto a new theme when they never really nailed the Just Leave theme, and kind of garbles their new message that there’s still vestigial Just Leave and Murder Vacation mechanics, it is fundamentally okay and indeed, a good thing, for a series to evolve thematically over different installments. But the problem is that this theme feels totally insincere, feels like people are scared of criticizing the 2020-era zeitgeist and also think they could profit from uncritically parroting its most rote talking points.

It wants to continue Far Cry’s edgy, bloodsoaked tradition of stories where war and revolution come with a terrible human cost, which means they cannot appeal to the Marvel core demographic of people who weren’t very political but they saw a man murdered by the police on camera and they were at least political enough to know that murder should definitely not be allowed. And yet, they lack the unhinged, though, to its credit, very human madness of the most lunatic fringe leftists of the era raving about how they’ll replace prisons with “empathy ceremonies” where criminals are publicly drowned. It wants, or at the very least feels it must be, part of that zeitgeist, but that zeitgeist is an alliance between 40-year old suburbanites that the Far Cry series wishes it was too cool for and actual crazy people that the Far Cry series might want to namecheck but whose actual policy proposals would be embarrassing to actually portray sympathetically.

Kinda makes me think that maybe it’s time for UbiSoft to admit that they are a giant corporation with no beliefs and should maybe resign themselves to making bland, Marvel-style, vaguely pro-status quo media.

Why Is Anime So Bad At Translating Titles?

I’ve been watching Delicious in Dungeon lately. Ten out of ten, no notes, except that name. It doesn’t roll off the tongue very well in English. The anime is generally very well translated overall (I’m watching on Netflix, and if it has a subs option, I couldn’t find it at a glance, and I don’t care enough about subs vs. dubs to spend more than five seconds looking, so fuck it, dubbed it is), and even does a good job of using current English slang and idioms in a way that feels fairly natural, though I worry that as early as the 2030s people saying “cringe” is going to make this feel like a period piece.

But for some reason they went with “Delicious in Dungeon” instead of something nearly identical but with better flow, like “Delicious Dungeon” or “Dungeon Delicious.” “Delicious in Dungeon” doesn’t come up directly in the story except that the narrator will sometimes say the title at the end of an episode as a bookend, which works with any title that has the word “dungeon” and “delicious” in it (and if you called it “Dungeon Cooking” instead, all you’d have to do is slightly rework the narration to fix the segues). I wonder if it’s supposed to have the same cadence as “Dungeons and Dragons?” But if so, it doesn’t, the syllables are wrong and using the “in” instead of the “and” throws off the usual “it’s like D&D but” title where you do two alliterative nouns separated by an “and.” Starships and Sorcerers doesn’t have the cadence, but the [noun] and [noun] format makes it recognizable and the nouns used signal some kind of space fantasy setting. If you really want the D&D reference, go with Dumplings and Dragons.

And it reminds me of K-On! The title itself is untranslated (I don’t know if K-On! even means anything in Japanese? It doesn’t sound like a full Japanese word), but the name of the rock band that the main characters are in is named “After School Tea Time,” after the fact that they meet as a club after school and spent a lot of the early episodes using their club as basically an excuse to fuck around having tea and snacks after school. But whereas “After School Tea Time” sounds like an anime with an overly literal translation, “Tea After School” is a good name for a band.

Both of these shows have perfectly good English translations but for some reason they fall apart on proper nouns.

Also this blog updates on Fridays now because my Patreon updates on Wednesdays and I want a Discord bot to be able to post both of them to the same channel without doubling up on two posts the same day. And also if you want to read my thoughts on TTRPGs and game design, those are on Patreon these days. I am now a professional game designer, so I don’t mind charging roughly $0.25 per post for my thoughts on that subject, whereas this blog is mostly my dumping ground for video games and anime and other stuff where I am just a guy.

Citizen Sleeper

In Citizen Sleeper, you are a “sleeper,” an emulated human consciousness uploaded to a robot body that mimics the regular human body in various ways to prevent the copy/pasted brain from going insane. So, you have to breathe because if you don’t your emulated subconcious thinks you’re drowning, and you have to eat or else the hunger will drive you mad even though the amount of energy provided to your bio-mechanical body by the food is puny (and it’s not clear how diegetic the hunger mechanics are, but you certainly don’t seem to have to eat very often). Unfortunately, the only point of making emulated humans like this is to exploit some kind of legal loophole regarding AI – as long as the artificial intelligence is created by copy/pasting a human brain wholesale, then the resulting being doesn’t legally count as human and doesn’t have rights, but also doesn’t count as enough of an AI for nebulous other laws to apply. Some kind of AI safety laws, I think? It’s not clear, but the game’s not a legal drama, so that’s fine. Making emulated consciousnesses allows the corporations to circumvent some kind of legal problem, and that’s why you are a robot with a wifi connection in your brain and robot legal status and yet you think, feel, and act exactly like a human.

The inciting incident of the game is that you are pulled out of a freighter that you’d stowed away on after escaping your corporate masters on some pit of despair floating out in space, and you’ve arrived on a decaying ring station taken over by the workers in a string of riots after corporate control fell apart. Now your goal is to make good your escape, which you can do in one of three ways: Upload into the cloud, hop on a ship to a distant planet (you have two different ships to choose from, but the details don’t matter to the broad objective of escape), or break the corporation’s ability to track you down and decline either of the other two options so you can just hang out on the station forever.

It’s not clear why the corporation’s grip on the station was slipping to begin with, but the Collapse was triggered by large chunks of the station being physically destroyed, so the corporation bailed out and left their station-level executives to fend for themselves. A few decades later, the Havenage is a ruling body that evolved out of a union, vaguely social democratic although it’s not clear how many residents are in the union. Certainly you are not in the union, and the political details mostly don’t matter. The Havenage is in charge of the main sections of the station, but they don’t really tell you what to do or provide for your needs. They are doing an okay job of running things but you’re pretty much on your own for getting food and shelter, and they don’t have total control of the station.

The Yatagans are a street gang that controls some of the more dense residential areas, and the Hypha Commune are a bunch of botanist hippies living under communism out in the biosphere sections of the station, which have grown completely wild since the Collapse. The Havenage are the ones that outside polities contact to do business with the station and the Yatagans in particular seem to exist like a regular (if firmly established) gang, in the cracks between the limits of the Havenage’s resources rather than acting openly as a rival state. It’s hard to tell exactly what the relation is between the three because all three of them are pretty chill with each other during the plot – the Havenage will not help you with your Yatagan problems and the Yatagans will not help you with your Havenage problems, so whatever the exact situation between them is, there is a stable balance of power and you aren’t upsetting it.

So that’s where you are. What do you do? Every day you roll some number of six-sided dice based on the condition of your body. At full health, you roll five dice. At the minimum, you roll just one. You can assign the dice to various tasks, and each task results in another die roll for a negative, neutral, or positive result, with the odds based on the face of the die assigned to it. The “neutral” results are actually marginal successes while the “positive” results are more like critical hits, i.e. if you assign a die to work a shift at a dangerous job, a “neutral” result gives you money and avoids harm, a “positive” result gives you extra money, and only a “negative” result damages you. Once you’ve used all your dice, you can sleep to get them back.

Continue reading “Citizen Sleeper”

Far Cry 6: Appointingly Armored

I’m not thrilled with Far Cry 6 overall. I’m mainly only playing it because I want closure on various Ubisoft open-world sandbox series that I was too broke to play when they got big, forcing me to watch from the sidelines as people loved them, then got bored with them, then eventually started rolling their eyes at the very mention of them. Assassin’s Creed and Watch_Dogs I played through until fairly obvious stopping points. For Assassin’s Creed, it was after Syndicate, before Origins, an intentional break that Ubisoft took to try and retool the series. For Watch_Dogs, it was after the second one, before Legion, because Legion’s “play as anyone” gameplay gimmick was such a radical departure as to feel like a different series altogether.

Far Cry lacks any particular breaks like that (well, except the break between 1 and 2), so I’m trying to play up to the current installment in the series and then I can say that I have completed the series, I have experienced the games that I had initially missed. And I’m trying to do that soon-ish because Far Cry 7 is supposedly coming out in 2025 and this series has gotten really shaky. Obviously I can just decide “fuck it, the series is over for me because it is bad,” and if I end up playing Far Cry 6 so little that I can’t even finish a main story blitz before 2025, then that’s probably a good sign that the series has become unplayably bad and I should not try to play it anymore. But I’d like to at least try to get through Far Cry 6, especially since the only outright bad game the series has had so far is Far Cry 5, and even that was fun to play, it just had a miserable and stupid main plot.

Far Cry 6 is better about this so far, but this wouldn’t be the first time Ubisoft has put crowd-pleasing fanfare up front where the early reviewers working to deadline will see it and hidden all of the terminally stupid shit near the end, where only dedicated fans or people with a neurotic obsession with completing things will find it, so we’ll see if Far Cry 6 is actually better.

But one thing I can say for the game already is that it finally has tanks. The absence of tanks made sense in Far Cry 3 and 5, and it was mostly sensible and forgivable in Far Cry 2, since that game was breaking new ground in enough other ways that I didn’t mind if they ran out of time and money before getting to specific features like tanks and IFVs. It really stuck out in Far Cry 4, though. The tinpot dictatorships you fight in Far Cry games might not have state-of-the-art weaponry, but at this point the T-62 is over 60 years old and was specifically intended to be a cheap tank for mass export to anyone on the red side of the Cold War. Stir in half a century of regime change, equipment capture, and imitation models, and these things (or tanks like them) can show up absolutely anywhere. And indeed, they are in Yara! These tanks are some fictional model from 1944, but whatever, what’s important is that I can drive around in a tank and fire the cannon and run over things.

Humble Choice August 2024

It’s the first Tuesday of August as I write this. What’s in the box?

Sifu is a kung fu game where you seek revenge for your dead family by decking a very large number of people in the schnozz. The three selling points I can identify are 1) You can pick a male or female character (they don’t spend a lot of time on this one, but it is the first thing they tell you about the game for some reason), 2) you have a magic amulet that brings you back to life every time you die, but ages you each time, and 3) the combat system doesn’t have any HUD indicators when something’s about to go wrong nor do enemies take turns attacking. Presumably, then, you have to pay attention to tells in their animations and crowd management is very important, although it doesn’t actually say that. The Humble Choice description definitely leans into the last part the most, with several paragraphs dedicated to how challenging the kung fu gameplay is. How Long To Beat says 8 hours, which is 3 hours longer than I’m willing to give this one, the risk that it’s not good enough to sustain its gameplay is too high.

High On Life is that one game written by one of the Rick and Morty guys where your gun talks to you. I’ve never thought Rick and Morty was particularly funny, and while I do like its exploration of sci-fi concepts, I like that because each individual episode is very short and often explores different concepts in its A-plot and its B-plot. High On Life is probably not staying glued to its single sci-fi concept of aliens trying to get high on humans somehow for its entire nine and a half hour run, but video games still tend to dwell on concepts much longer than TV shows do, and even concepts I like are going to get boring if they spend even 45 minutes on them. The fear hole was a pretty good episode, but it would be much worse if it were ninety minutes instead of twenty, even if two-thirds of those ninety minutes were combat.

Two or three times a year, Humble Choice includes a game that gives the whole bundle the flavor of one of those diabolic bargains or “would you rather” games. This bundle’s hidden poison is Gotham Knights, and neither of the two headliners are even pick-ups, let alone overshadowing the threat that I might accidentally install Gotham Knights on my computer. I’m assuming that Sifu is supposed to be a headliner since normally those are listed first, but it’s more obscure than usual, so my headcanon here is that the Humble Choice headliners are set up as far in advance as release day, like, Gotham Knights locked in their position in the August 2024 Choice clear back in September or October of 2022 when it was coming out, and by the time August 2024 was rolling around, Humble was having second thoughts about Gotham Knights being a headliner so they promoted Sifu to the #1 spot instead.

In Blacktail, you play as Yaga, a Slavic archer-witch who gets exiled from your village and can choose to either become a guardian of the wilderness or to go the route that name implies and become a nightmare horror. I’m not sure why they went with the relatively generic “Blacktail” over just calling the game “Baba Yaga,” especially since, while looking up some of her legends to see if maybe the phrase “black tail” comes up in them (nothing after a quick Google search, but bear in mind my background research for these posts tends to be pretty sloppy), I found that Wikipedia claims that Baba Yaga is an ambiguous figure who is sometimes helpful, so the guardian-of-woods route in this game is actually also following the legends, not defying them. Gameplay wise, this game is promising to be a witch game with an emphasis on archery, and so far witch games have capped out at some survival-crafting games being decent witch games by accident, but at less than 10 hours, I’m willing to give Blacktail a chance to break the curse.

Astral Ascent is a Roguelite game and even kind of leans into the slow pace at which the story unfolds. They are attempting to be more deliberate with their Roguelite mechanics, so my outside guess is that Astral Ascent is probably one of the better B-tier Roguelites for people who really like that genre. I don’t really like that genre, though (I don’t dislike it, but I don’t like it so much that I want to play its middlingly-high entries), so for me, this game is going to be 20-30 hours of being a worse version of Hades.

Diluvian Ultra has managed the first half of a miracle: I am going to add a Doom-style shooter to the backlog. How Long To Beat has exactly one record of how long this game is, and that record says 5 hours, so if that’s even close to accurate then I will give this game a chance based purely on its cool aesthetic and ideas: You are a grimdark space fantasy prince, not a 40k rip-off but a guy who’d fit in in that universe, and you have been awakened from your slumber on your tombship by unknown attackers. It remains to be seen if Diluvian Ultra can manage the second half of this miracle, getting me to actually like a Doom-style shooter. This is episode 1 with promises of more as paid DLC, and I’m not committing to any of the DLCs even though the story is apparently incomplete without them, but honestly, if it can even get me through the first episode then that should be considered a win, given I very nearly rejected this game on its genre alone and only read the ad out of a sense of obligation towards being reasonably open-minded.

Universe For Sale is about a woman living in a colony in the clouds of Jupiter who can create universes in the palm of her hand. No sign of gameplay or what kind of actual conflict this leads to, since the images and video heavily emphasize the woman and the people she talks to, not the universes themselves. As near as I can tell, this is an adventure game that heavily emphasizes its strange, novel worldbuilding. Fair enough, but if I wanted a story told to me, I’d read a book or watch a movie. If you expect me to go to the hassle of clicking to advance the conversation every thirty seconds, I expect there to be a game to play.

This Means Warp is a sci-fi game where you fly a spaceship around to different asteroids and, uh, interact with them somehow. The game’s advertisement is focused relentlessly on how it’s playable with 1-4 players which, I get why that’s a primary selling point, but do you, uh, have other selling points? Well, okay, it also says it randomizes your adventures each time. There’s good reasons to do that, it means you have to master broad systems rather than memorizing specific maps in a more deterministic way, but it also means that the maps lack the handcrafted human touch and you can really tell the difference. This tradeoff alone is definitely not sinking the game, but it’s not a major selling point the way the devs seem to think it is, and the other major selling point is that I, the solo player, am kind of an afterthought to this multiplayer focused game. When the game lists its features as bulletpoints, it does have a third, and the third is “deep, strategic combat,” but it doesn’t say, like, how. Just that it has combat, which is hard. Optimistically, this might be a somewhat FTL-esque game, perhaps with more emphasis on crew combat over ship combat, and with a more light-hearted tone. How Long To Beat says it’s 12 hours long and also has only one rating, so I’m going to pass it by because that’s already longer than the 10 hours I might be willing to chance on this game plus there’s a possibility that the one rating left was an outlier and the real average time is 15 or even 20 hours.

These two pickups put me up to 156, which is still slightly disappointing since I was recently below 150 and then I decided I should play Deep Rock Galactic for three months. Still, the new pickups are short and I still have a few short games in the backlog (I’m playing Hi-Fi Rush right now and it’s not especially long). Plus, I like the look of both of the new pickups, even if Diluvian Ultra makes me nervous with its genre. Not sure if either of them deliver on their promises, but I like what they’re promising.

Figment 2

Figment 2 is about a figment of the mind of some guy. The figment is Dusty, the man’s courage, and his job is to defeat nightmares, which the mind fears. He is accompanied by Piper, a Navi-esque bird sidekick and what exactly she’s supposed to represent psychologically is not clear to me. I could take some guesses based on her personality, but I don’t think anything is ever nailed down in dialogue. She’s also pretty new around here. Both of these characters were also in the first game, according to Google, and that game was set in a teenage girl’s mind, with Dusty fighting against fear and depression. We’re clearly in a completely different person’s mind here, so I guess everyone has a Dusty and Piper floating around.

The game opens with Dusty fighting a giant evil pig representing fear of the dark, but the main plot is about fighting the Jester, the man’s lost sense of fun, who’s been crushed under adult responsibilities and is now going rogue and attempting to tear the Moral Compass apart in order to be heard again. Brief illustrated cut scenes of the outside world make it pretty clear the strain that all the extra work is putting on the relationships of the unnamed man Dusty and Piper are knocking around in, but it’s never clear what dangerously irresponsible things he’s considering doing under the Jester’s influence. The game’s ultimate message is that the Jester is good and the man should listen, but there’s also an implication that the Jester will wreck the man’s life if they keep taking desperate action, so the character arc for Dusty is about learning to trust and work with the Jester rather than fighting to the death, so it makes sense to focus on the damage done by the Jester’s absence over what they’ll do if they win by defeating Dusty. Still would’ve been nice to see, though.

The game is a hack-y slash-y roll-y around-y sort of game with frequent but only mildly challenging puzzles. We aren’t at full Lego Star Wars mindless puzzle levels, but it’s, like, one notch up from that. The game’s major selling point is its emphasis on music. Certain enemies attack in time with the combat music, although most do not, and bosses will sing songs at you while you fight them. This is a neat idea, but it suffers from the problem that all the songs are really forgettable. On the one hand, if you want a musical action-adventure game, you aren’t getting one anywhere else, and Figment 2 (and, I assume, the first Figment) are musical action-adventure games. I’ve given Assassin’s Creed games passing marks for historical tourism to eras I otherwise don’t get to interact with much in other video games, like the French Revolution, even when they’re mediocre in basically every other way, and objectively that’s the category Figment 2 falls into: Flawed, but it does deliver on its core premise.

But Figment 2 is flawed. Its story is that of the overworked husband and father who needs to spend more time with his family. Serviceable but rote, not a bad thing, but not a redeeming quality either. The gameplay is the same, a half-dozen different enemies and your standard roll-and-attack third person melee gameplay that’s been the norm for something like a decade now. It’s hard enough you can’t sleep through it but easy enough that I don’t get stuck on it, which is good, because it’s pretty forgettable so drawing attention to itself would be bad. The thing where the music is diegetic and enemies attack you in rhythm with it is new, but the music itself is the same serviceable-but-not-a-selling-point tier as everything else.

If you love the idea of this game’s core premise, then nothing about is bad enough to be disqualifying. Unfortunately, I’m not super into its core premise. I was willing to give it a chance because it was under 5 hours (about 3 hours and 20 minutes for my playthrough), but having tried it out, yeah, this series is not aimed nearly directly at me enough to overshadow its flaws.