Having a BLAST playing 'Splosion Man

I'm really glad to see such good things come from the current BOOM of indie developers!

...but seriously, folks. I meant that. To me, one of the most exciting aspects about this generation of video games is small-team development, and 'Splosion Man is a perfect example of why an indie resurgence is definitely a good thing. People talk a lot about how, without the oppression of corporate overlords, small development companies are free to take risky, artsy moves in their games. Citing titles like Braid and Flower, critics and consumers are more ready than ever to admit, or even celebrate, the increasingly obvious artistic merit of our video medium. And while 'Splosion Man succeeds in style and personality, particularly with its sense of humor, its true victory lies in that other, more universally acknowledged merit of video games: that of sport, skill and expertise.
In this way, Twisted Pixel's second effort is admittedly one of an old pedigree, but I'd like to resist terms such as throwback or retro. 'Splosion Man is simply a game that knows exactly what it is, and thrives in just that way. Its focus is on FUN, and the real artistry here is the great achievements made in puzzle development and fast-paced, zany gameplay. At times, the action is so fast, yet also rather intricate in execution, that I'm reminded of sort of a thinking man's Sonic the Hedgehog. That may sound strange, but 'Splosion Man is nothing if not unusual. The scrappy developers behind Twisted Pixel are making games for love of the medium, and in 'Splosion Man, they have published an extraordinary title. It is easily worthy of an impulse buy, and with its lenghty and challenging campaign, brings plenty of BANG for the buck. Heh heh.

Admiral Ackbar Jokes

Sir! I was climbing a tree and now my hands are all sticky!
IT'S THE SAP!

Sir! I didn't sleep enough last night and I'm kinda punchy!
TAKE A NAP!

Sir! Who's the superintendent of the Lewiston School District?
IT'S JOY RAPP!

Sir! My crotch is all itchy and painful!
IT'S THE CLAP!

Sir! What's the worst place you've ever spilled hot coffee?
IN MY LAP!

Sir! Where did you get that lovely sweater?
AT THE GAP!

Sir! I've got this little useless piece of paper!
IT'S A SCRAP!

Sir! Who's your favorite band from the early 80's?
SPINAL TAP!

Pentagram plays Satyricon, I get bruises

There is no qualifier for what shows I do or do not write about on the dusty virtual pages of World Breaker. Maybe I should write about concerts I attend more often. Given the relative frequency of my showgoing, there would be a lot more posts. Anyway, I'm getting off track.
Last night I squeezed into the beyond-sold-out Satyricon to see the legendary Pentagram play music. Nachtmystium, Danava and Witch Mountain also played. Another act, Jim Beam and the Chasers, played a more exclusive show. In my stomach.
It was with some apprehension that I even went to this show. Though I had been looking forward to it for some time, I must admit that I was intimidated by the teeming mass of familiar faces crammed into the hundred-degree show space. I was also unsure of Pentagram's ability to shred. These dudes are pushing 60, and have had a long and tumultuous history of lineup changes, breakups, and whatever physically taxing debauchery being a member of Pentagram would entail.
Soon, however, this anxiety and pessimism was washed away in a brisk rain of whiskey. After missing Danava and enjoying the better-than-expected black melody of Nachtmystium, I was standing in one of the more densely populated show floors I've seen. Pentagram's set was long, loud, and simply put, kind of amazing. Whatever lineup they have these days is more than capable, and retain an energy and enthusiasm matched equally by the gruesome mosh pit they inspired. This was a pit of unbridled reception: hundreds of rabid fans thrashing around not because Pentagram's music necessarily calls for such activity, but because everyone was simply so effing stoked to see this band.
Figuring I'd rather be bruised and entertained than smushed and stationary, I spent the entirety of their extended set fighting off the mutual glee of my brothers and sisters of metal. Pentagram played the classics, they played some new stuff, but the pace and accomplishment of their songs did not relent. After a fake finish and two encores, everyone was ready to call it a night. Limping out of Satyricon's makeshift sweat lodge, the feeling was mutual that we were all lucky to engage in the unholy revelry of a really good metal show. Though I am now injured and creaky, I was truly blessed to be a part of Pentagram's stinky sacrament. Hail.

Party Down - Thank God that's over

Writing about TV. Oh well.
Anyway, when I first got into this new show on Starz, I thought it was a pleasant, if kinda derivative "sociological" sort of comedy. The kind of stuff that floats around in a post-Curb-Your-Enthusiasm comedic landscape. You know, the shaky camera, the awkward conversations. The grimace-inducing situations.
Despite the notion of having seen this stuff before, I was happy to see this great cast in a pretty well-written comedy series. The State's Ken Marino is at his best here as the pitifully ambitious Ron Donald, "team leader" of the Party Down catering crew the show is centered around. Said crew is equally strong, playing ne'er-do-well artists "doomed" to a life of the service industry. This damning notion of failure is basically Party Down's thesis. It's the classic slacker story retold with a great cast and a flexible premise. Sounds pretty samey, right? Keep watching.
As the 10-episode season unfolds and finally wraps, Party Down reveals that it does, in fact, have a distinct flavor of its own. While it was at once easy to compare this show to The Office or Reno 911!, consecutive episodes show a certain flair that is oddly unique. Thing is, it happened so gradually, that I didn't even notice until the 9th episode. Party Down had become its own show, with a brand of bitterness approaching Alexander Payne levels of saddiness. Perhaps it was only after a certain level of character development, which is handled quite well (including a workplace romance vein), that I empathized enough with these miserable characters for the cringe-comedy to take its desired effect. In any case, the loyal viewer is rewarded with an excellent last few episodes that make the beginning of the season better on subsequent re-watchings.
This scrappy cast and crew ended up with a perfectly successful first season, already warranting the greenlighting of least a second one. And while I thoroughly enjoyed Party Down in all its cynicism and gloom, in a way I'm relieved to just be done with it for now. Cause it can be pretty brutal. Of course I'm looking forward to season two, but having this one over with is kinda like ditching some of your less wholesome friends. As if to say, "yeah, I was in a bad scene for a while. I got out of it, though. It's cool now."
For a taste of what I'm talking about, here is a scene from episode 9, where Ron Donald caters his own high school reunion. If you do plan on watching this series, be warned that this is a pretty spoilerific scene. Enjoy.

TENNIS! For the NES. That is good Tennis!

It's been a long time. Video games have come a long way. You're a better player than you were twenty years ago. Ancient Age games seem disappointingly simple these days. So. You plunk in a dusty sports title, expecting only a slight upgrade from some Pong formula. Surely, this game, TENNIS, will be barely discernible from the myriad generic sports games from a generation before. Blip. Bloop. Atari gameplay, NES graphics. Instead, this NES launch title is amazingly deep, funnily accurate and surprisingly engaging. Not to mention challenging. Get a bro and play some doubles against the merciless computer bros. Have 12 cans of Coors while you do so. That is good Tennis.

I May or May not post in the month of May

I didn't.

The Knockout Artist - Harry Crews

So last week I finished the very engrossing Knockout Artist. My coworker was reading it and I picked it up when he wasn't around, putting away the first few chapters at my noisy workplace, until I finally got my own copy.
It's important I think, when discussing this book, to keep it spoiler-free for those who haven't read it. There are some really unique elements that make this book so great, but I really hope you read it - so I'm not going to reveal anything.
But I'll say what I can about Crews and this book. His characters and settings are rendered in a perfectly effortless language that is never uncomfortable for even a second. The first chapter of The Knockout Artist is positively arresting. To finish that first one is to pretty much sign a contract with Crews and the rest of the book; you will not be looking away from this gross roadside accident of a story. I can say that it might not necessarily be for everyone. If it were a film, it would have to fight the MPAA to even get an NC-17 rating. Some of the subject matter here can live only on the page or one's twisted imagination. It's not a trash novel by any means, but it can certainly get pretty rough. Crews doesn't relish in the nasty here, though. While at times eye-popping in its debauchery, the story is always coherent, always human and never malevolent. So many books are ready to give up on their readers, leaving one depressed and with a sense of gloom. (I'm looking at you, Brett Ellis.) Crews instead assumes the best of his reader, taking us down a dark path but not a dreadful experience. The book is also deceptively simple. The plain-English story will sometimes throw the reader a bizarre poetic curveball revealing the author's glaring enthusiasm for putting words on paper. Crews is supposed to be writing novels, and he's written this one well.
This, apparently, is one of Crews' minor works. I had to do a little research on the guy after I read The Knockout Artist. I guess his big one is another novel called A Feast of Snakes.
Anyway, I obviously recommend this one. C'mon. What are you reading now? You're just re-reading Lord of the Rings. And this blog. I bet Powell's has this no-name book for like six bucks. Just go get it instead of your usual issue of fucking Adbusters or whatever. Anyway.