‘Nioh 2’ takes the hardcore action RPG to new heights
(05/16/20 7:44pm)
by Ben Sapet
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by Ben Sapet
On Sept. 14, 2009, Kid Cudi gave the world a vibrant, psychedelic tour of his mind and his lifelong struggle with mental illness. Now, ten years and several albums later, Cudi’s breakout concept album Man on the Moon: End of the Day remains as essential, fresh, and moving as ever.
by Ben Sapet
by Ben Sapet After four years of real development and three E3s, Days Gone has finally arrived to mixed reviews. With its release so fresh, it’s hard to tell where public opinion will settle on the Sony’s latest exclusive. Some found it a buggy trainwreck; some found it lacking compared original promise; still others decided to band together in comment threads and defend Sony from tepid reviews. Days Gone is a fine game but it belongs in back in 2016, where it first made a splash at E3. Promising parts Days Gone feels like a mash-up of the last few years in gaming. I find the recipe goes something like this: The Last of Us style combat and crafting A Mad Max type dedicated vehicle A big, sparse open world like Far Cry 5 A story composed of constant errand-boy quests, like Ghost Recon: Wildlands Slow, methodical preparation like State of Decay Your list might differ, but these are the influences I felt playing Days Gone and, on paper, this combination seems pretty cool. Brutal violence, scrounging survivalism and a trusty motorcycle are perfect fits in a nihilistic world where nature and other humans are equally hostile. The fact that these gameplay elements work so well together is a surprise and a delight. It was exhilarating to see the game’s systems interact and create some incredible moments. At one point, my bike broke down in the middle of the Oregon wilderness and I didn’t have the resources to repair it. The next twenty minutes were as tense as any horror game. I set out, on foot, with a baseball bat and a few pistol rounds, looking for an unsalvaged car to scrap. The sun was setting and the zombies — sorry, “Freakers” — were coming out for their nightly roam. I made it to the road and the mother lode, a six car pile-up, but there was a problem; one of the game’s roving hordes of about fifty… Freakers… was between me and my precious scrap. I scuttled around the outskirts of the horde, grabbed my scrap and ran back into the woods. https://youtu.be/p9XlSvnRk3E The video above shows glimpses of the wild “oh s**t” moments of the gameplay. These, where scarcity or carelessness force unprepared players into the dangers of the world, make Days Gone shine. Old at heart Unlike its version of zombies, Days Gone takes a slow and plodding pace. The story — which is long, bland, and unremarkable enough that its details warrant little attention here — takes about six hours to actually reach. Even when the story starts in earnest, it rarely ever digs its heels in to craft big moments and raise the stakes. The kind of sprawling slow-burn journey through a game can work, like it does in Red Dead Redemption 2, but Days Gone is not Red Dead Redemption 2. At times, Days Gone seems to know that you aren’t there for the characters and you don’t care about the story. After every one of the overlong cutscenes, a brief radio conversation will almost always summarize it for you —like the developers know how often you’ll be tempted to skip cutscenes and get back to the loop of the gameplay. While the story does have its moments, it takes a whole lot of patience to actually see them. In Days Gone, slowness is not just confined to the narrative, but it seems thoroughly ingrained in the progression system. With a max level of 45 and a peanuts worth of experience for each zombie kill, each skill point takes several in-game days to earn. Upgrades for your bike come just as slowly, requiring you to earn dozens of chores worth of settlement trust points. This pervasive slowness speaks to a disappearing design philosophy. Days Gone wants you to take your time and feel like a citizen of its world. It doesn’t use a steady drip of unlocks, loot, and level-ups to fight for your attention, it just assumes it has your attention. This wouldn’t be a problem if missions served any purpose other than giving your character a little more information each time. Even the excellent gameplay, which sets it apart, doesn’t tread new ground — it simply combines and refines elements of games released during its dev cycle. Again, this is not a problem, it just feels dated. Days Gone, however, does have a problem with its dated approach to representation. The problem is that Days Gone makes little to no effort to represent women and people of color, which feels as 2015 as the rest of the game. Janky through and through Much has been made of the game’s bugginess, but the bugs usually range from harmless to funny. Issues like texture pop-ins and weird physics have been somewhat irritating, but the game performs quite well for the feats it’s able to pull off. Facing off against over a hundred-strong, fast-moving horde, the game doesn’t lose more than a few frames. I have encountered one particularly heinous glitch in which a chunk of the world never loaded quite right and I needed to reinstall the game to actually get the objective to spawn. I said earlier that Days Gone struggles with keeping the player’s attention and that it feels dated. This is never more true than with its load times and its transitions in and out of cutscenes. Every time you arrive at a cutscene, the game goes something like this: fade to black, quick loading screen, first part of the cutscene, fade to black, next part of the cutscene, fade to black, loading screen, back to the game. I can’t think of an uglier, less immersive approach to transitioning between story and gameplay. As with so many other aspects of the game, this would have been normal a few years ago, but for a game released in 2019, it’s a grating problem — especially since God of War (2018), another first-party PlayStation game, managed to present a 40 hour game as a single tracking shot. Images: Captured from Days Gone Featured Images: Bend Studio
There were no duds at Frog Baby Film Festival 2018. From top to bottom, the lineup of short films was full of clever and enjoyable submissions in a wide range of genres and styles. The cowboy westerns, action and horror films, and dystopian comedies made it impossible to know what to expect next, and that’s not even to mention the categories for documentaries and music videos. The only thing these films had in common was that they all showcased the undeniable talent of Ball State’s own home-brewed filmmaking community.
By Ben Sapet On March 25th, 2008, Panic at the Disco (at that point sans exclamation point) released their delightfully strange sophomore album, Pretty. Odd. Despite radically departing from the taut angst of their first album, Panic asserts that they’re “still the same band” on the opening track. Maybe that’s true, but their tone and sound as they say it seem to indicate otherwise. Pretty. Odd. makes room to discuss what constitutes the essence of the band: whether it’s their sonic identity or the musicians themselves. The Pretty. Odd. stage of Panic! at the Disco’s discography (when the punctuation shifted from their name to their album title) drastically stands out from the similar drama and breathy sexuality of their previous and next albums—A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out and Vices & Virtues respectively. If A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out set its stage in a smoky burlesque club doubling as a brothel, Pretty. Odd. takes place in the morning when the debauchers have trudged out and the windows have been opened and the sun’s been let in for the building to breathe. After they brought the shutters back down for Vices & Virtues, Panic! has never returned to the sun-drenched parlor where it’s always nine in the afternoon. That’s the magic of Pretty. Odd. It sits on its grassy hill distant from the Panic!’s cabinet of symbols and motifs, far from the taut moments of conflict that define their discography. Gone are the tense exchanges and trial-by-fire moments of A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out. Instead, Pretty. Odd. finds meaning in vibrant personifications of nature and small doses of reality crouched in fantasy. A psychedelic naturalism and lively effervescence spills from its 15 eclectic tracks. The album begins with an exuberant breaking of the fourth wall, thanking fans for their patience before seamlessly transitioning into the now-iconic piano opening of “Nine In the Afternoon”— the song that sets the stage for the eternal sunlit moment in which the album takes place. Then, on “She’s a Handsome Woman,” the band takes on an orchestra-backed, chugging Rolling Stones sound before promptly switching gears again. “Do You Know What I’m Seeing” juxtaposes a very Panic! at the Disco moment of tumultuous ultimatum with thoughts of wind, weather, and a life with priorities run astray. Over an orchestral ebb and flow of harmonica, acoustic guitar, prominent strings, and distant squawking crows, this is the point at which the album begins to reveal that, as another fourth wall-breaking transition indicates, “things have changed.” Then, with a faint static crackle and an earnest singular acoustic guitar, all the layers are stripped away and Urie’s smooth measured tone seems to melt into its place alongside the music; “Northern Downpour” exhales and, six tracks in, we arrive at the clearing where Panic! finds the mellow mysticism that defines the album. At this point, Pretty. Odd. transcends the '60s rock influences that shape the album’s first half. The lyrics become beautiful abstractions that weave human love and nature into one and relish the sound and emotion of the words rather than the meaning (this lyrical style would go on to become one of the band’s staples—especially on Death of a Bachelor). The instrumentation changes as well, finding mystery and magic in its blend of baroque orchestra and tinges of folk—this made all the richer by production that begs for, if not necessitates, listening with a good pair of headphones. Pretty. Odd. filters thoughts of lost love through a deeply romanticized, often psychedelic connection with nature. Songs like “When the Day Met the Night” feel like a floating daydream in which those memories of lost loves turn into a story of the golden moment “when the moon fell in love with the sun” and the moon’s plea for the sun not to break her heart. Several tracks later, on “She Had the World,” softly callous verses and a tender harpsichord tell the story of the girl (the moon) who “spun the stars on her fingernails,” but “couldn’t ever win me / Because she couldn’t catch me.” As gentle and reassuring as the song may try to be, it doesn’t hide the heartbreak at the end of the idyllic relationship formed in “When the Day Met the Night.” As the album ends and the fantasy begins to dissipate, you’re left with two options: to move on into a world that feels much more like that of A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out and Vices & Virtues or to delve back into the mellow beauty of the place where it's nine in the afternoon and reality only comes in waves. After ten years and a handful of new Panic! albums, Pretty. Odd. still basks in its distant, timeless moment seeing memories form in the clouds. Images: Pinterest, Amazon, YouTube
On March 25th, 2008, Panic at the Disco (at that point sans exclamation point) released their delightfully strange sophomore album, Pretty. Odd. Despite radically departing from the taut angst of their first album, Panic asserts that they’re “still the same band” on the opening track. Maybe that’s true, but their tone and sound as they say it seem to indicate otherwise. Pretty. Odd. makes room to discuss what constitutes the essence of the band: whether it’s their sonic identity or the musicians themselves.
by Ben Sapet In the late 1970s going into 1980s, horror movies changed dramatically as genres shifted from psychological thrillers to slashers, and the piercing string-heavy scores gave way to tense, swirling synthesizers. This change was due in no small part to the now-legendary writer, director, and composer John Carpenter (most famous for Halloween and The Thing) who effectively changed the sound and atmosphere of horror movies. At the same time, theatrically macabre metal acts like Alice Cooper and KISS gave way to the pop-infused glam metal made famous by Mötley Crüe, Poison, and Quiet Riot. The intersection of these movements in film and music inspires Carpenter Brut’s latest album, Leather Teeth. The French synthwave/darkwave artist has not been quiet about the inspiration he’s taken from John Carpenter (his namesake) and metal. The album manages to combine these inspirations to great effect. Leather Teeth is framed as the soundtrack to an imagined 80s coming of age slasher movie of the same name. The release trailer introduces the movie/album’s concept. A freak lab accident transforms a nerdy high-schooler who’s been scorned by the cheerleader he likes and bullied by the football team into a Jekyll and Hyde-esque character. His Jekyll is Leather Teeth, the front man for the ghoulish glam rock band, Leather Patrol. His Hyde is known only as the Beast, a gruesome slasher who, in typical slasher movie fashion, hunts and kills the band’s groupies. (CONTENT WARNING: Gore and sexual content) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CVqlEwHJrk When the soundtrack is the movie From the cold open title track “Leather Teeth” to the final track “End Titles” and the movie poster-inspired album art, this album is overtly cinematic. Leather Teeth makes masterful use of the genre conventions of '80s slasher movies to create a detail-rich, expressive story arc without relying on visuals. You can almost feel the directorial presence in the music, shaping images in your imagination and moving the camera along with what we expect from the '80s horror genre. In the title track, for example, you can hear the moment where omen turns to terror as the slasher bursts out to hunt down his teenaged victim in a dogged chase—or the moment where Brut cuts away from the chase for a jarringly tranquil establishing shot and then turns his focus back to the chase. This album is not, like many scores and soundtracks, treated as secondary to the visuals. Instead, as a soundtrack with only a trailer, Leather Teeth evokes a nearly fully-realized movie in the listener’s mind using only eight tracks of shredding guitar riffs, pounding drums, and gritty, emotive synths. A wild half hour worth repeating At only 32 minutes, it’s fortunate that none of Leather Teeth’s eight tracks limp. The consistency and tight structure ultimately pay off as the Beast’s fierce, heavy darkwave instrumentals can alternately contrast or combine with Leather Patrol’s glam rock. Delving back into Leather Teeth for repeat listens is exhilarating because every time, the images your mind sets to the soundtrack become clearer and the story develops in your imagination. While it is certainly brief, the album bursts with exciting and compelling details. If anything, Leather Teeth’s biggest shortcoming is that we can’t sink our teeth into more of Carpenter Brut’s rich, cinematic vision. Carpenter Brut captures the essence of '80s horror using the genre’s auditory motifs and impressive instrumental storytelling—but only the essence. While he excels at communicating his vision in his music, the album’s breakneck pace separates it from the likes of Friday the 13th and A Nightmare on Elm Street. These movies relish in the gleeful build-up before the fake blood starts to pour, but Leather Teeth’s urgency makes its moments of anticipation an exception rather than the rule. Perhaps the problem is that Carpenter Brut over-distills the genre and filters out the breathing room audiences need to gasp at what comes next. “Monday Hunt” and “Inferno Galore,” for example, buzz back-to-back with a feverish intensity. On film, the looming baseline and shredding guitars on “Monday Hunt” might be intercut with the fast, gritty dance floor synths of “Inferno Galore” to create a single thriving sequence. This, however, is not an option for a story told only by soundtrack. Instead, the two tracks detract from one another because of their forced proximity on an album so compact. Leather Teeth’s brevity makes it more of an outline than a complete story, but that plays into the album’s greatest strength: Carpenter Brut’s ability to paint a picture in the listener’s imagination with his synths and Leather Patrol’s ghoulish glam metal backing. The album makes you do the work, with Brut pointing the camera and your mind deciding what’s on the other end. Top tracks: “Leather Teeth” “Cheerleader Effect (feat. Kristoffer Rygg)” “Hairspray Hurricane” Recommended if you like: Mötley Crüe Perturbator John Carpenter Featured image from Metal Sucks
One day after Valentine’s Day we were graced with a gift better than any bouquet of flowers or box of chocolates: a new single from Frank Ocean. Ocean’s late-night Valentine’s gift to the world was not a new album, as some had hoped, but a striking cover of “Moon River.”
By Ben Sapet One day after Valentine’s Day we were graced with a gift better than any bouquet of flowers or box of chocolates: a new single from Frank Ocean. Ocean’s late-night Valentine’s gift to the world was not a new album, as some had hoped, but a striking cover of “Moon River.” Where the original Audrey Hepburn recording relies on her breathy whispers tinted with wistful longing to give the ballad its simple, dreamlike beauty, Ocean’s layered vocals and swelling, synth-infused instrumentals lend his version a poignant sense of heartsick contentment. Ocean’s “Moon River” speaks, like much of his discography, to the bittersweet aches of life and love. As usual, Frank Ocean gives us more than we deserve. Our holiday dedicated to love seems mired in the hackney consumerism from online flower deliveries to poorly chosen jewelry and the obligatory chorus of groans from singles everywhere. This year, as the pink candy was discounted and the little red hearts went back in storage, the clouds parted and Frank Ocean descended with a rich, moody song to balm hearts overwhelmed by love found, love lost, and love never reciprocated. As an artist, Frank Ocean continues to evolve and grow without ever letting his new work unravel the old. Every piece seems to pick up where the last left off, changing stylistically but without Ocean ever deviating from his role as the nuanced storyteller and gifted musician at the center of it all. Frank Ocean moved from the sample and reference-heavy memories etched into each song on nostalgia,ULTRA to the vivid imagery, elaborate production, and anthological storytelling of Channel Orange. Four years later, the layers were stripped back with Blonde. Its comparatively minimalist production, inward focus, and aching melancholy made Blonde a startlingly intimate, emotional experience that feels more like connecting to Ocean himself than observing his art. Now, Ocean’s “Moon River” follows the scattered exhaustion at the end of Blonde’s hour-long odyssey of unrequited love with a gentle croon that finally finds a tender satisfaction in remembering the love he felt. We’re lucky to have Frank Ocean as he is: a sensitive recluse who pours his life almost solely into his art. Ocean’s near complete absence from social media and the celebrity news cycle makes the intensely personal nature of his recent art all the more influential. Eschewing the gossip and oversharing that characterizes modern stardom, Ocean’s life exists not in headlines, but in his music. His music isn’t a celebrity confessional that sparks gossip and stokes feuds to light social media ablaze. Frank Ocean uses his talents as a storyteller to share his own story by carefully reconstructing the emotions, moods, and moments that color his life. The jokes about Ocean taking his time and the pleas for more new music from him speak to more than just a restless fan base—we want to share another intimate moment with him in the world his music creates. We haven’t done anything to deserve the intricate beauty Frank Ocean brings into this world, yet Ocean continues to use humanness, with all its raw spots and vulnerabilities, as his muse. As we wait impatiently for his next album, we should be thankful that Frank Ocean has decided to invite us into his life and his music. Sources: YouTube Images: Wikimedia, YouTube
You've probably celebrated the spooky season this month by binging the best of what horror has to offer. Sometimes the best is of the campiest sort like the Scream franchise or the nostalgic like Nightmare Before Christmas or Hocus Pocus. No matter what you watch, chances are it's not your first time seeing it. Behind all the familiar names, we found some hidden gems of horror, suspense, and thrills that you probably have never heard of. Here's one of our hipster picks of Halloween:
Most social issue films follow a similar, well-trodden formula. When a narrative is centered around an issue there are certain “musts” involved: it must demonstrate the damage of the issue, create empathy for those effected by the issue and ultimately justify the relevance of the issue. In fulfilling these (and many other) check boxes, social issue films become formulaic almost out of a sense of duty to the subject matter.
As a platform, the internet offers an incredible degree of creative freedom and accessibility for anyone with a camera, internet access and an idea. This openness and low-barrier to entry has given creators a remarkable opportunity to pursue traditionally “unmarketable” ideas, reach audiences and make a living doing so. Why, then, is the winners list from this year’s Streamy Awards peppered with celebrities and productions backed by media-giants?
