#I still need to play Advent Dark Force to see the new content in it.

[satoshi-mochida]

Publisher Compile Heart and developer Sting have announced Fairy Fencer F: Refrain Chord for PlayStation 5, PlayStation 4, and Switch, the latest issue of Weekly Famitsu reveals. It will launch on September 15 in Japan for 8,580 yen. A limited edition will also be available for 10,780 yen.

Details

Fairy Fencer F: Refrain Chord is a tactics RPG featuring an assortment of characters from the series.

“Dramatic Resonance” can overturn the battle through song. A high-risk, high-return element that can strengthen both sides of the battlefield, it occurs when an ally or enemy songstress sings.

Support Fairy Boost has a high degree of freedom.

There is a treasure hunting element on the world map.

Characters

Fang (voiced by Ryouta Oosaka)

Tiara (voiced by Kaori Ishihara)

Songstress Fleur (voiced by Yui Ishikawa)

Fairy Eryn (voiced by Rumi Ookubo)

Update 05/18/22 at 2:05 a.m.: Here are the first screenshots, via Famitsu.com:

[tumbling-odyssey]

Games I played in 2020

Just felt like getting my thoughts out on all the games I played this year. I’ve been wanting to do something like this for years but I always let it pass me by. Well not this year! Fuck you laziness! 

I played the first half in 2019 but finished it in 2020 so I guess I'll count it. DQ11 was my intro to Dragon Quest and what a good starting point. I'm not exaggerating when I say this is one of the best traditional JRPGs on the market. Characters, story, combat, it all clicks in just the right way to make a flawless game... until the end credits roll that is. 

I have no idea what happened with the post game but by god does it dive off a cliff. It undermines everything you worked to do in the main plot. The characters act brain dead and it shamelessly reuses events from the main game. Please pick up and play DQ11 but for the love of god just stop when the credits roll.

Doom is a game I knew I'd like. The heavy metal ascetic and soundtrack were right up my alley, but I just never found the time. With Eternal on the way though and having found it on the cheap at a pawn shop I figured there was no time like the present. Needless to say but I was right. I loved everything about this game. The thrill of combat, the screech of the guitars, and the silent take no shit attitude of Doomguy. Make no mistake though, I SUCK at this game. I played on easy but still got my ass handed to me on the regular. But I don't care, I was having way to much fun.

I flipped my shit when this game got leaked at the tail end of 2019. Zero 3 is my all time favourite game. To celebrate this getting announced I went and 100% Zero 3 as I hadn't done it on my current cart, and Zero 3 was still the first thing I played when I got this collection! I love that game to death and I’m glad to have it on modern consoles again. As I was under a bit of time crunch with other games releasing soon I only played 2 other games in the collection Zero 4 and ZX Advent. Until the DS collection those and 3 were the only Zero/ZX games I had so I have a lot of nostalgia for them. 

Zero 4 hold ups better then I remember. Not as good as 3 but a damn solid game with tweaks I honestly wish hit the series before its end. I remember having issues with the stage design and ya it’s not perfect, but it’s far from as bad as I thought. For ZXA this was the first time I beat the game on normal difficulty. For some reason the ZX games have always given me more trouble than the Zero games, so finally beating one on normal was very exciting. Maybe I can now finally go and beat ZX for the first time...

The Mystery Dungeon series rising from the depth to punch all those unexpecting in the face was a very welcome surprise. I had a lot of hype going into this one as I have very fond memories of my time with Red Rescue Team and even more with Explorers of Darkness. And the game lived up to it! The remastered music is great and crazy nostalgic, the 3D models are well used and don't feel as stiff as they do in the core series, and the QOL changes are near perfect... So why did I drop this game like a rock once I finished the main quest? 

Anyone familiar with Mystery Dungeon will know that the post game is the real meat of it. The story is short and all the really cool shit comes in after it's done. But I just couldn't bring myself to put more time in after I finished said story mode. I'm definitely chocking that up to me just not being in the mood then an issue with the game. Here's hoping we get an Explorers DX sometime soon. That will fucking hook me for all it's got.

Second verse same as the first. I loved this game and sucked at it horribly. Out of all the games I've played this year Doom Eternal is the one I want to go back to the most. I was not the hugest fan of some of the changes made and retained a stance that I liked 2016 better. First person platforming has never been a fun experience in my opinion and Eternal did little to change that. And I know this a lukewarm take at best but fuck Marauders!. They are so unfun to fight and ruin the pace. The Marauder in the last mook wave took me so long I was worried I wouldn’t be able to finish the game. But the more I've seen of Eternal after my playthrough makes me think I was being far to harsh. I haven't played the DLC yet either. Mostly cuss I haven't heard great things about it. Gonna wait for the rest of it to come out to see if it's worth getting. Might just replay to whole game at that point to see if it clicks with me better.

This was my second favourite game of the year, and was going to take the top slot until a certain other game came out. Addressing the elephant in room right away, I hated the ending. But I was expecting something like that, I think we all were. I won't let the ending ruin the rest of the game though. Not gonna let 1 segment colour everything that came before it. We have to see how the later parts play out to truly see if this ending was trash or not anyway. 

It took Square over a decade but they finally got an action RPG battle system that works and feels good to play. This may be my favourite battle system in an RPG period honestly. All four characters are a blast and it only gets better the more time you spend with it. Figuring out the nuances of each character’s skills and how to combine them not only with the skills of the others but how to enhance them with the right Materia set. This makes fights thrilling and satisfying when you finally best whatever was giving you trouble. Tis was the best way to bring 7′s mechanics into the modern landscape while also fixing the BIGGEST issue the OG had. The fact every character feels the same aside from Limit Breaks. 

All this on top of graphics that just look fucking stunning, a few glitched out doors aside. Fuck I still feel blown away looking at the characters models (mostly Tifa) and see how god damn pretty everyone is. Also Tifa’s Chinese dress is gift from the Gods and I still haven’t picked my jaw up from the floor after I first saw it.

In my circle of the internet there was a lot of hype for this game. So much so that I ended up buying it to see what all the hubbub was about. I had never played a Streets of Rage game before and my only experience with beat'em ups was playing a LOT of Scott Pilgrim and last year's River City Girls. Turns out Streets of Rage plays quite a bit different and it kicked my ass! So sadly I had to switch to easy to make it through but I still had a fun time with it. 

I started playing mostly as Blaze but once Adam hit the scene oooooh fucking boy. I didn’t play anyone else. There's a deceptive amount of content in this game. You can unlock almost every character from the previous games and all of them rocking their original sprites and moves. If I had more of a connection with this series I'm sure I would have gone nuts on unlocking everything. I stopped after my one playthrough and I was happy with that. Always glad to support a long overdue franchise revival.

To properly talk about P5R I think I need to air a lot of my feelings on the original game and the importance it has to me. You see, prior to 2017 I barely played games, only sticking to specific franchises. AKA Pokemon and Mega Man/Mega Man like games. Until 2016 though I still bought a lot of games. Eating up Steam sales and deals I found at pawn shops. This lead to a Steam library and shelf filled with games I've never touched outside of maybe an hour or 2. So in 2016 when I took interest in the newly released Kirby Planet Robobot I made a deal with myself. I could get the game but I HAD to beat it.  And I did just that, gaining not just a new fav Kirby game but a new rule for game purchases. If I knew I wouldn't beat a game I was not aloud to buy it. Now what does ANY of this have to do with P5 you may ask? Well... almost everything.

 I was immediately interested in P5 when it hit the west in 2017. I loved the 20 or so hours I but into P3 years ago and really liked the P4 anime I had watched around the same time. So of course with all the hype around it I wanted to dive into the series full force with P5. But I knew myself. Putting over 100 hours into a game was beyond me and I had a weird relationship with home console games as I was predominately a handheld gamer. Add in the fact I didn't even have a PS4 and I was convinced P5 would be something I always wanted to play, but never would. So when I went to the mall with a few friends and they showed me that P5 had a PS3 version, I had a dilemma on my hands. I knew I wanted to play it and I now had a way to do so. But doing that would require me to change 2 HUGE hang ups I had with games. Would I being willing to waste 60 bucks with so much working against me? Apparently I was. I immediately started going to town on this game. Making sure I spent no less then 2 hours a day playing NO MATTER WHAT. Which may not seem like a lot but it was to me... at the time.. I also had just moved to my current house, so coming home from my still relatively new job and going straight into P5 was the first real routine I formed during this heavily transitional part of my life. 

I of course ended up loving P5 and put 200 hours into it. As such my outlook on gaming was forever changed. Console games were no longer out of reach and I knew I could handle playing monster length game. I started playing way more games then I ever did before and trying out generas I never thought I would play. P5 is the main reason for this and why I'm able to make a post like this. To actually touch on Royal though? It's unarguably the better version of the game and Atlus learned all the right lessons from P4G. The new characters are great and the added section at the end is possibly the best shit Atlus has ever written. I only wish Yoshizawa joined the party sooner so I could play as her more. 

The release of this really came out of nowhere huh? Wayforward announced it was being made mid way through 2019, then there was its weird half release on the Apple store... and then suddenly it was out! Very little fanfare for this one. Is that indicative of the games quality? Luckily no. Seven Sirens is a solid addition to the series and follows up Half Genies Hero nicely. The game goes back to Shantae's Metroidvania roots and makes a TON of improvements. 

Transformations are now instant instead of having to dance for them (don't worry dancing is still in the game) making the game feel more like Pirates Curse in its fast flow. They also added the Monster Cards which take heavy inspiration from Aria of Sorrow's Soul system. A feature I'm happy to see in any Metroidvania since Aria is one of my all time favourite games. Sadly though the game does not take the best advantage of these improvements. 

Over all the game feels kinda empty. The dungeons aren't super exciting to explore nor are they challenging in any way. And the plot is very repetitive, with each dungeon repeating the same beats. Really this game feels more like set up for a better game down the line. The mechanics are all here and Wayforward has a solid art style with the sprites from Half Genie Hero. Hopefully they capitalizes on this for Shantae 6 and we get the best game in the series.

While it may not have been the most thrilling game, Seven Sirens really put me into a Shantae mood. So much so that I went back to play the 2 games in the series I had never touched. This being the first game and Risky's Revenge. Shantae 1 really is a hidden gem in my opinion. Don't get me wrong, it's the definition of jank, but there's a lot of heart to this game. The sprites are great, the soundtrack is good, and the characters are funny... but it's still on the OG Gameboy and that's a massive hindrance for any game. I'm hard pressed to recommend this with how poorly its aged but I think it's better then it looks. 

Risky's Revenge on the other hand was a game that shocked me by how little it had to offer. I know this game went through a hellish development and what we got was far from what Wayforward planned to make, but it's hard to imagine a world where this was the technical BEST Shantae game. It's not a bad game by any stretch... just a boring one.

For the record my ranking of the games goes Pirates Curse>Half Genie Hero>Seven Sirens>Original>Risky’s Revenge

Sword and Shield are mediocre games at best. I know, real steaming hot take there. I managed to make my Sword playthrough a lot more fun by not spoiling myself on the new Pokemon designs for the first time since Gen 3. Either way, I enjoyed myself enough that I didn't mind playing more of it with these DLC campaigns. Plus I love the idea of Game Freak switching over to this method as apposed to making a third version, so I wanted to support it. 

Klara is a fucking top tier Poke Girl both in design and personality and is probably the highlight of Isle of Armour. GF actually went out of their way to give her multiple expressions to sell her toxic bitch personality and I love every minute of it. She sadly drifts into the background for the second half of the DLC’s story which hurts an already rough section even more. Not more then having to grind Kubfuu all the way to fucking level 70 though! That put a serious hamper on my motivation to finish the story but I pushed through anyway. Having to solo the tower with Kubfuu was at least a fun challenge though, as was the final fight with Mustard. Fuck the Diglett hunt though. Ain’t no one got time for that.

Crown Tundra may be my fav of the 2 though even if there isn't a character as good as Klara in it. The hunt for the legendaries was just pure adventure and I had a fucking blast doing it. The joy I felt when I figured out Registeel’s puzzle put a smile on my face unlike any Pokemon game since I was a kid. The whole Regi stuff was honestly a nice Nostalgia trip to my times with Emerald. The story around Calyrex was enjoyable, even if I still hate its design. Not revealing the horses before release was a good call to as it gave an honest surprise. Having to chase down the Galar forme Birds in the overworld is a great way to evolve the roaming legendaries idea and I hope GF sticks to this. Plus the Galar forme birds are some of the best legendary designs since Gen 5 and I love Chocodos way to fucking much. 

Here we are folks, my GotY. I love Panzer Paladin so fucking much. A combination of mechanics from Mega Man, Castlevania, and Blaster Master? Sign me the fuck up! This game is tailored made for me and I knew I had to play it once it started making the rounds on social media. I'll admit though, I was a bit worried when the the first full trailer dropped and showed the weapon mechanics. Breakable weapons that you have to sacrifice for checkpoints and power ups? I'm not sure about that.... Luckily I was being a complete moron and those mechanics are near perfect. 

I love the set up of each boss being a mythological creature from different cultures. They didn’t just pull the easy ones either. A lot of these things I learned of for the first time here. I love how Grit controls. Using the upward stab as a double jump and being able to pogo off enemies Shovel Knight style just felt great and satisfying. Flame was limited but it made her sections feel tense. She does more damage then you think she could at first glance. Also the only way to heal Grit being to use pods that only Flame could access was a cool idea. 

I am begging you Tribute Games, you have to make more Panzer Paladin games. Slap some new upgrades on Grit and expand what Flame can do and you have an even better sequel  on your hands. Also maybe not have so many 'gotcha' moments with enemy placement. That's really my only complaint about the game. Great music, great sprites, giant robots, unique premise, and a reference to Canadian legends. The ultimate self indulgent game for me.

It felt super out of left field for Curse of the Moon to be getting a sequel. The games fucking amazing but it was really just a tie in for the main Bloodstained product. Not something I expect to get a continuation. Either way I was pumped. If this was even half as good as the original then I was in for a great time. Which held true... cuss this legitimately is only half as good as Curse of the Moon. I still like the game, quite a lot actually. I mean how could I not with a fucking Corgi piloting a Death Train Mech. 

Something was just missing here that never made this click like the first game. Maybe it was the stage design, maybe the bosses, maybe the fact that it's a bit to long. I'm not sure. All I know is I couldn't bring myself to play all the modes like I did in the original. . Stopping part way in to the one where you can get the first games characters. I want to go back some day... I just don’t know when someday is.

This was an announcement I never saw coming. A Gundam Verses game coming to the west? That hasn't happened in the entire time I've been a Gundam fan. I had played a bit of Full Boost on my old roommates PS3 thanks to him having a Japanese account and I played Force on the Vita a few years ago. But to have the latest version fully translated with open servers? Holy hell that's a dream come true. 

Having the open betas every weekend leading up to launch was some much needed fun during this shit hole year. I had a lot of fun just fucking around with different suits and seeing what I could do with 'em. Absolutely trashing two Bael players as the Kapool is a memory I'll keep with me for a long time. Fucking danced on their graves. This gave me some new appreciation for suits like the Baund Doc and Hambrabi, the later becoming a lowkey fav as it was my main.

I've fallen off with the game in the last few months but I definitely want to go back. I hope to start learning the game and take parts in tourneys when cons aren’t death sentences anymore.

It felt like everything in my life was SCREAMING at me to start the Yakuza series. From 2 of my friends playing 0 recently, a youtuber I following live tweeting as he played through the WHOLE series back-to-back, and Yakuza 2 having a run at AGDQ 2020. Plus the constant pleas to play this series you get from following Little Kuriboh on Twitter. I finally broke and picked up 0 in the middle of August. Boooooooooy howdy did I not know what I was getting in to. And no I don't mean the content. I knew Yakuza was a series of wildly conflicting tones between the main story and side quests. What I mean is the length. I legit thought this was gonna be a 20-30 hour game. When i reached hour 30 of my playthrough and realized I wasn't even close to a conclusion, I think I knew I had bitten off more then I was planning. That misstep aside I ended up loving this game and want to play the rest of the series.... I just need to rest up first before I dive into Kiwami 1.

 Let's actually talk about the game for a moment here. Kiryu and Majima quickly clicked as likeable characters to me and I cared about their stories. Combat is fun and the multiple styles are all great.... though both the default styles take a while to get there. The mad rush I felt at the end was fantastic and the last bosses are a joy to fight. Only real complaint is the pacing of the side stories. I loved being able to just stumble into various different events while on route to the next plot objective. But this became less common as the game went on and side stories started getting more tucked away. Also hot take here, the host club mingame is more tedious then fun and I like Kiryu’s business stuff as I could do that in the background. I’m excited to dive into Kiwami and probably Kiwami 2 this year... Though I’m not sure when just yet.

Just gonna say it flat out, I think this is better the the 2018 game. The smaller scale helps in this style of game and Miles just naturally has a better move set then Peter. I'm not sure if they actually tightened up the combat system or if they just threw less bullshit enemies at you but fighting feels so much better in this one. Traversal is better too,  simply because they changed the button for tricks. In the original you have to hold down 2 face buttons to enter trick mode??? In hindsight that was such a bad call. 

Having both the heal and venom powers run off the same meter was a good idea. Making the choice between keeping yourself alive guaranteed or potentially ending a fight quicker/disposing of a problem enemy is super fun. The player having to make small choices like this during combat is what helps it not be brainless. I love all the different venom skills you get. While they all achieve the same thing in stunning opponents, how you achieve that goal is up to you. Do you want to just slug the bastard, throw 'em up in the air, tackle the shit out of them? The choice is yours. 

Only real big complaint is certain upgrades being NG+ locked. I know you want to encourage replays, but this is a shitty way to do it I feel. Also can we retire Rhino for the next game. Man has had 2 shitty boss fights now and I need a break. Between this and Spider-Verse, I'm honestly starting to like Miles as Spider-Man more then Peter.

I got this game more on a whim then anything. I was definitely interested when it was first announced for the west. Vanillaware's beautiful art style in a story about giant robots beating the shit out of Kaijus? Sign me the fuck uuuuuu-oh wait it's an RTS? I had never played an RTS's before, mainly due to the sheer concept stressing me out. So I let it fall to the wayside. The game started coming up again though towards the end of the year with GotY on everyone's minds.  This revived my interest, especially as what I HAD planned to be playing around that time was... well. Cyberpunk. Don't think I need to say much more. Also I had worried for nothing as the Real Time Strategy was not that Real Time. 

This game really lays on the analysis paralysis once you're out of the tutorial. Do you want to fight, do you want to do story, who's story do you want to do, what branch should you follow, how much should you play with this one character? It's very overwhelming at first. I decided to not go ham on just one character and swap around all the time. The twists in this game are equal parts exciting and infuriating. Learning something new always came with the caveat of more questions, or something you knew 'for sure' being disproven. Like when I learned 1 characters was actually 4 separate ones! Anyone that's played knows exactly what I'm talking about. 

Natsuno ended up being my fav and not just because of.... obvious reasons. BJ was cute if unfortunately named and her relationship with Mirua was my favourite in the game. Not that there was much competition except for maybe Ogata and Tomi. I ended up really liking the combat but I can see why RTS fans say it's the weakest part. It's far from complex and I had a winning strat by the third or so real fight. Aka spam turrets and have the Gen 1′s gank all the bosses.

One quick thing I want to share was how I beat the boss at the end of Area 2. The one where Inaba is singing. I had Hijiyama use the limit break skill to bum rush the boss right off the hop. I took out half its health in one hit but Hijiyama’s Sentinel was on death’s door. Only thing that saved him was sending in Amaguchi to blow up a bunch of missiles. Hijiyama took it out on his next attack but lost his Sentinel at the same time. It was a real clutch victory and crazy fucking anime. 

The best way to really describe Carrion is that it's a fantastic proof of concept. Can you make a game where you play as The Thing? Why yes, yes you can. Carrion just needed a bit more tweaking to really bring this concept home and be the A+ game I know it can be. As it is now the game is a bit empty. The level design is super samey and the lack of a map is fucking brutal at points. I know it would make no sense for a blob monster to have a map but somethings you just have to gameify for convenience. The level design must have done something right as even though I was completely lost I still moved from area to area properly. Hell by the time I actually looked up a map I had 1 more item to get and I learned I was one door away from beating the game. 

I love the idea of losing mass as you take damage and gaining more by eating people, but having abilities tied to size was a terrible idea. It just leads to tedium as I have to go and shed myself to the right size, do the puzzle, then of course I'm going to go back and rebuild myself to see if I can do the next segment at full power. Just make it so you can swap between abilities using the d-pad or something. I hope this game gets a sequel just so this sick ass concept can be fully realized.

[timebird84]

🎄 PotO Advent Calendar ‘19 🎄

By @lovelymarguerite​

Christine sat by the window, a novel lying open and neglected on her lap as she watched the snow fall silently on the occasional carriage passing in the street below. Mama Valerius had gone to bed early, pleading exhaustion from the day’s festivities. Christine reflected that Mama had been getting far more tired far more easily lately, and a sense of melancholy enveloped her. How many more Christmases would they have together? Going to vigil mass alone, preparing a solitary dinner, spending this holy day in isolation while others were surrounded by family and love--the idea was unbearable.

She shook her head to dispel her dark mood, and attempted to return to her book. Within a few minutes, however, she closed it and set it aside. Perhaps she could sew a bit? Her mind rebelled at the quiet and the stagnation. She needed to move, to do something. Her eyes landed on a parcel wrapped in brown paper and twine. She had set it aside to bring to Erik in a few days when the holiday was over. What would be the harm in taking it now?  

Guilt nudged her slightly, as she realized she had been feeling sorry for herself while Erik was likely spending his Christmas alone. Did he celebrate Christmas? She wasn’t certain, though she doubted it. He hadn’t seemed very religious. She supposed pretending to be an angel was closer to blasphemy. Despite that, she didn’t like the idea of him sitting alone. It wasn’t that far, and the fresh air and brisk walk would do her good.

She made a little package of some cookies, tarts, and rich cake, and slipped on her new coat, Mama’s gift to her this year. It was made of thick red wool, smartly trimmed with black braid, and tailored to fit over the bustle of her dress. It was beautiful, and Christine knew there was love in every stitch Mama had made. She wrote a quick note letting her adopted mother know she was visiting a friend, and set out into the snow.

It was colder out than she expected, and she walked quickly to warm herself. A gust of icy wind set the snow dancing around her to sting her cheeks and settle in her blond curls. It wasn’t long before she reached the Rue Scribe. After her disastrous first attempt to visit Erik unannounced, he had given her a key to a small gate and shown her a far easier route to his home. She pulled the heavy iron key from her pocket and slid it into the lock, which refused to turn. Whether her hands were too cold for the force needed or the mechanism had frozen, she did not know. She stamped her foot in frustration and muttered a quiet “merde” under her breath. She was still struggling with it a few moments later, when a large hand clad in an immaculate black leather glove closed over her own.

“Who knew Persephone was so anxious to get back into the underworld?”

Christine whirled around. Erik loomed over her, and despite his face being hidden, she could sense his amusement. He held a basket under his arm.

“And to what does Erik owe the pleasure of such a visit?”

She held up her parcels. “It’s Christmas. I thought you might want company.”

“It is indeed. Christine is such a sweet girl to think of her poor Erik. As it happens, it appears I have an abundance of company.” He turned the key and opened the gate for her. “Come along, before you ruin your voice with the cold.” She walked through, hearing the snap of the lock as he closed the gate behind them and led her down into the cellars. After walking a while in silence, she could no longer contain her questions.

“Erik?”

“Hmm?”

“You said you have an abundance of company?”

“Indeed, I do, my dear. Such a festive time of year!”

“I don’t want to intrude--”

“A visit from lovely Christine is never an intrusion. Erik would never take such a rare gift for granted.”

She was about to ask about his other visitors when he swung open the door to the little house and called out.

“Daroga! Set a place for a third!”

Christine’s eyes widened as the man she knew only as the Persian appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. His expression mirrored hers as he caught sight of her.

“Erik, what have you done?”

“Nothing, nothing at all Daroga! Mlle Daae was ready to break down my door, and using the most unladylike language. I merely invited her in, lest she be arrested for causing such a commotion.”

Christine blushed at the realization that he had seen her little tantrum. Remembering her manners, she dropped a quick curtsey to the man Erik called Daroga. “I was afraid he might be lonely. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I would be barging in on your celebration.”

“You see, Daroga?” Erik exclaimed as the Persian came forward to take Christine’s parcels. “She is a good girl with a kind heart. Not some meddlesome old booby.”

The Persian ignored him and introduced himself to Christine. “Nadir Khan at your service, Mademoiselle Daae. Pay no attention to our host; his manners could use some improvement.” He smiled at her, and she beamed back at him.

The three sat down to a small but cheerful meal of a delightfully spiced lamb stew, finished off by the sweets Christine had brought. As usual, Christine saw Erik neither eat nor drink, but it did not stop him from joining Monsieur Khan in effusive praise of her baking. When she handed him the brown paper parcel, he became very quiet upon opening it to find a small stack of manuscript paper and several new nibs for his pens. “Such a sweet, thoughtful girl,” he murmured softly, before jumping up to entertain his guests with a seemingly endless variety of impressions and tricks.

The evening passed faster than Christine thought possible, and soon she was being whisked back through the snow to her own front door. She climbed the steps to the little flat in a warm and pleasant haze. Mama was still sleeping, and likely hadn’t missed her at all. As she hung her coat, she saw the glint of something in the firelight. A small onyx cameo was on the lapel, depicting an intricately-carved angel playing a violin. She had no idea when he might have placed it there, but she was pleased at the gesture. She nestled into her small bed and smiled, content.

[hollenka99]

The Captor

Summary: Basically the part with Anti from The Hero because it’s his birthday and maybe you don’t want to scroll halfway through a 9.5k fic to read this bit. Also because I wasn’t able to finish the fic I was planning to post today.

Warnings: Torture, gore, implied mouth gore, kidnapping, starvation, dehydration, loss of identity, poisoning, implied/referenced vomiting, major character death

His mistake is going on patrol while disgruntled. Finding himself aimlessly marching around the streets of Athlone, his senses are go haywire. Because of course he can't catch a break tonight. Usually, he's hyper aware of every person near him. It is a good way of keeping him alert in the presence of danger. It's far easier to win fights if he can tell a perpetrator is about to attack him from behind.

At least, that was how it was meant to work in theory. It had acted in his favour in the past. Unfortunately, it had to fail him at some point. He blames the demon's insistence on disorienting him. It's not a difficult feat. Antisepticeye only has to glitch to a new position several times. Constantly being plagued by white noise and taste of metal in the air doesn't aid him either.

Jackie begins the fight at a disadvantage. He struggles to make up for it. Attacks fail to land. He thinks he breaks Anti's jaw but it glitches back into position so quickly that he can't tell. It's over when a jolting touch throws his body in a fit of pins and needles. He should have taken a moment to admire the sun earlier that day. He's not going to see it again for a while.

His new room is far removed from the one at home. With nothing but four walls and a door, it is devoid of light. The only source of it comes from a ceiling lamp. There's no furniture, not even a crude excuse for a bed. Time doesn't exist when he's here alone. It is measured in Anti's company and the absence of it.

Jackie's a fairly quick learner. When the lamp is lit, he is being paid a visit. Sometimes Anti won't bother with the light at all. There are still ways of detecting his presence. Food and drink will come whenever Anti feels like providing him with it. Once the demon takes advantage of his age, there are more rules. He is to be referred to as 'Sir' and Jackie is simply a boy. If he pretends to genuinely follow through with it, he can bide his time.

He spots an opportunity to escape when Anti leaves him be for a while. All it takes is a well placed blow to the door for his strength to free him from the room. His legs are in serious need of regaining their previous skill. He makes a dash for it, nothing to lose. It's only a matter of working out where the exit is. Regardless of left or right, static is everywhere he turns. It grows louder to a disorientating degree. It deafens. His hood is the thing to doom him. One grab and he's being hauled back to square one.

"You call that an escape? Pathetic."

The violent crack of his left leg leaves it undoubtedly fractured. The damage is duplicated on his right for good measure. He's questioned on which bone has been targeted, formal name necessary. Oh, how is he supposed to know? Radius? That was a major limb bone. Anti promises that's the next one to go if he remains this ignorant.

His lack of medical expertise is what truly ruins his legs in the end. Being forced to set the bones himself is bad enough. Not having any doctor present makes it worse. Having been allowed a chance to inspect the injury, he finds it's worse than his shin. It's his knees that are beginning to swell.

To his arm's fortune, Anti generously dedicates himself to providing Jackie with an education. His lessons begin with Biology but that is swiftly rectified to involve more Science and History. Soon, it will be any subject Anti finds relevant.

As often as he can, Jackie talks back, mocking Anti's efforts to hurt him. He can take away everything he's known, isolate him in darkness and make him silently dream of freedom. Jackie can handle that. All he has to do is survive until his friends come or he feels capable of making another escape attempt. Jack, Marvin and Schneeplestein must be searching for him, right? They probably have little to go on but he knows they care enough to try whatever method available. So he fights back however he can.

Then he takes it too far. Then he uncovers Anti's bad side. The demon is naturally cruel but he's patient. You do not want to see him furious. Jackie regrets learning that the hard way. The first few apologizes that leave his lips as his head is pinned to the floor aren't entirely sincere. He's not sorry for what he said. He's just sorry he triggered action. His sincerity increases when the needle's first piercing of his lips is felt. It is only a matter of minutes before he stops speaking altogether. For good measure, he temporarily loses the privilege of free movement around the room.

Anti visits an eternity later, acting resentful that Jackie needs water to stay alive. His blinks are dazed when a knife frees him. His captor comments on how pathetic he looks as he gulps the contents of the bottle provided. He probably does but who cares. He's been dying for a drink for who knows how long. Presumably literally, when his mind focuses enough to reflect on it.

This may be the first time but it won't be the last. He certainly makes an effort to reduce the frequency from then on.

December is ushered in with chocolate. Jackie doesn't care about the tradition of advent calendars. They're for children, which he isn't, and he doesn't appreciate the way Anti explains them like they haven't been lurking in shops since before Halloween either. If he can predict the demon's way of thinking like he hopes he can, he believes he knows where this is going.

He's correct in his predictions. It is a month of stomach cramps, helplessly being revisited by the little he ate and fevers. He refuses as many meals as he can get away with. Other times, he gives in and eats for the sake of having something in his stomach. Maybe his mind is working overtime to be suspicious of everything but he swears Anti increases the dosage for days Jackie's stomach speaks for him.

Anti introduces him to a seasonally appropriate song. It's gentle enough to lull an exhausted person to sleep if they let their guard down. He doesn't fall for the trap. He should have, it probably would have been the only time the song would have positive connotations. All is not calm when it plays. Out of spite, he remains silent as the night.

Anti hands him a present on what he claims is Christmas Day. It's a cake filled with berries and decorated with seeds wrapped in leaves. No matter how much he wants to tell the demon where he could put the 'gift', he can't escape the truth. Jackie hasn't eaten in days, which is exactly what the manipulative bastard must have planned. Survival is survival, even if the negative consequences outweigh the positive. Food that will upset his stomach is better than no food.

He doesn't realise how counterproductive that is until the symptoms hit him. His heart needs to chill out already and it would be great if he had better control of his muscles too. He swears he'll catch his breath any minute now. Just as soon as his chest stops hurting. Something at the back of his mind is uncomfortable with the plan to sleep it off but he wants a break. This has been a particularly rough round. He deserves to allow himself a rest, right?

When he wakes, his muscles feel stiffer. His body feels more drained that he's used to in general. He learns about yew trees, of how pretty much everything but the flesh of its berries is toxic. How, if left untreated, it tended to prove fatal within hours. Things fall into place. He wonders how long Anti just left him there. He promises himself he'll toss the next meal he's given to the other side of the room. Maybe shove a few yew seeds into the demon's mouth and see how he likes it.

His friends are coming soon. It's been nearly two months but they must still be trying to work things out. If they took a break from searching for the holidays, he doesn't mind. He hopes the four of them enjoyed themselves. With any luck, he'll be witnessing what a proper Christmas is supposed to look like next year. He pictures it. It's better than dwelling on the truth of last few days. That would just drive him crazy. One thing's for sure, they are never learning of what his first experience of the holiday was like.

The second Anti realises he can exploit Jackie's naturally heightened senses, the hero is sent to another room. He despises the way his ears uselessly strain to hear anything. It's darker than what he's gotten used to as well. Left long enough, his head begins working against him. It's not real, what he sees, of course it isn't. He is once forgotten about for so long that he swears Marvin bursts the door open so Jack can tell him it's going to be okay as Dr Schneeplestein checks him over. He's so tempted to leave with them but it can't be reality. Anti wouldn't let them get that far.

It is unbearably satisfying to win a victory against his captor when he stumbles upon a loophole. He sings the song he and Jack had made inside jokes out of. It annoys Anti enough for him to deliver consequences. He may be robbed of his ability to see and to have anything to listen to but it's impossible to steal his sense of touch. There was always the option of destroying all neural connections but what use would the boy be then? None. He can feel the strings attached to his mouth and he can still feel pain. It's not a good victory in regular terms but any victory against Anti is a good one is Jackie's eyes.

He learns Spring is approaching when Anti mentions Easter. That was always in Spring, right? Christmas was always in December and that had passed. It must be after New Year's Day now, in the very least. The demon began speaking of how religious the Irish were and briefly explains Lent.

Jackie doesn't like the sound of fasting.

The Wednesday associated with ashes deprives him of any necessity. Then, to his absolute shock, the demon hands him a glass of water. It's a regular sized glass too. He is far from trusting of it at first. Given everything that's happened to him, he has every right to be wary. He only drinks it to get this bout of poisoning over. Perhaps he can power through it long enough this time to deny Anti the satisfaction of watching him suffer. However, hours pass and nothing happens. Nothing continues to happen as he accepts the single daily glass of fresh water offered to him throughout the week.

There is a catch, of course. The privilege of routinely quenching his thirst comes at the price of food. He is fasting after all, Anti reasons. Fasting was about endurance. Jackie couldn't be a hero if he was unable to endure, especially in challenging situations.

If he's going to be honest, the starvation wouldn't be too much of a problem. He's gone days without food before. Once the actual sensation of hunger disappears, it's manageable. He could do this. Water must keep people going in famines. Who's to say it wouldn't sustain him too?

Two more conditions are established. Being charitable, better known as giving alms, would manifest itself in utter obedience. After all, it was about time Jackie learned defiance was completely pointless. Additionally, while Anti didn't expect him to pray, he did assure him certain outbursts were even more encouraged than usual. Should Jackie wish to beg, call for the others to save him or confess his transgressions against his captor, Anti was welcome to hear it all.

Even if there was a way to observe the passage of time here, he would have rapidly lost count of the days. He can however measure the decline into chronic fatigue. His lessons carried on as normal, including Physical Education. One missed punch soon turns into several failed attempts until it was general lack of co-ordination. Every hit Anti lands becomes more successful in sending him to the ground. No matter how many times it happens, no matter how much effort it takes to do so, Jackie returns to his feet.

There comes a day when he experiences sudden dizziness, despite laying on the ground. Anti's nearby, his senses are sure of it. For that moment, he continued to rest on his back. If he was being allowed the luxury, he wasn't going to squander it. Even if that meant he risked further repercussions. Besides, his chest didn't feel right. Without warning, he blacks out.

Jackie wakes to Anti closer, practically seated next to him. The unbearable weariness of resurrection informs him of the unfortunate nature of his spontaneous 'nap'. The boy shifts the slightest amount. His captor immediately looms over him.

"32 days." The glitching demon looks thoughtful for all of half a second. His cruel grin takes pride in his next words. "Pathetic. Most can make it to 50 days. There are some who can reach over 70. But here you are, pretending to be a hero, unable to survive even 5 weeks. A real hero would last long enough to break the record of 116 days. You barely achieved a quarter of that. What kind of hero are you?"

The following two weeks proceed the same as the previous five. Living in anticipation of water, fainting unexpectedly and being revived. He doesn't understand what makes the Friday so good when it steals his hydration benefits. Two glasses of water later, Anti is proud of him.

Upon being congratulated, Jackie comes to the realisation it was over. Had he done it? He had! Oh, thank God. He was doubtful of how much longer he could endure the cycle. The praise disorientates him.

Even more confusing is the glitch presenting him with his prize. A small creature is placed on his lap. The fur is nice to touch, steady breaths are felt when he holds a hand in front of what he can only assume is its face and the ears are longer than he was anticipating. A rabbit, it was a rabbit. Sure, he was vaguely aware the animal was associated with the holiday but... he hadn't been prepared for a rabbit.

Against the boy's better judgement, he succumbs to the temptation of making the most of his reward. He had to admit, Anti didn't have to supply the water or gift him the animal. Part of him reasons it would be rude to ignore his captor's attempts to be civil. He cherishes the soft fur, desperately staying awake for as long as he can with it. He's not stupid enough to believe this is permanent. He fights the pulls of drowsiness, rabbit clutched to his chest. Ultimately, despite his best efforts, he is too weak to oppose his body. He wakes to his comfort gone.

Anti returns it by unceremoniously tossing it before him, sticky and unnaturally stiff. It's eventually removed when he refuses to interact with the corpse. The boy is not surprised when he is given food with an unspecified meat. He's not stupid. Of course it's what he thinks it is. Why should he eat anything with meat? In fact, why should he eat anything Anti provides him in future? All this fasting had taught him was he could live without food. Of course, he'd be constantly tired and unable to really put up much of a fight. The point was he could die and wake up, over and over, until Anti got bored. The demon takes notice.

"You're so smart, aren't you? A clever little boy." Anti stops stroking his hair to grasp it. His smile fades as abruptly. "But no-one likes a know-it-all."

He gets his comeuppance. He supposes he deserves it for trying to outsmart Anti.

The boy doesn't understand what he's watching when shown footage of the house. It's Jack and Marvin with an ego he doesn't recognise. They're all just... sitting there, watching something on TV and being friendly with each other. Which is fine. He's not expecting them to spend every second of the day looking for him. Come on, he's not selfish. For all he knows, they're just taking their mind off what they hope isn't happening to their friend. It's probably fake anyway. That's what Anti does, he gets a kick out of screwing with his head.

The new guy's name is Chase Brody. Good for him. What does he care? It isn't like Sean had to deliberately choose to make Chase. While the boy has been here. For at least five months. Possibly six. Possibly so much longer.

He calls Anti a glitchy bastard to his face. Screw him for trying to convince him he's been forgotten about. It throws him for a loop when nothing happens. Perhaps the satisfaction of his student's reaction is enough of a reward. Well, congratulations, he got what he wanted. But the others are coming. They'll work out how to find him eventually. They have to. The boy can't exactly make a run for it himself, thanks to his knees. That was the whole goddamn point of ruining them. Maybe they're close to cracking it. Maybe Chase has some expertise that can help them. Chase, who is definitely not his replacement. Why on earth would he think that?

His birthday comes, bursting with celebratory activities. Seventeen to be exact. Anything he's dealt with since arriving is eligible to be repeated. He is presented with an exam to acknowledge the academic year drawing to a close. If he got a question wrong, there was an appropriate penalty. The cake is no prize for completing the test and neither is a trip to his 'favourite' room. He'd like to insist Anti really didn't have to reverse the treatment so the boy was bombarded.

Amongst other things, he is bestowed the privilege of a hot shower. He doesn't dare admit he prefers shivering until he feels queasy. Why should he complain? Anti was acting nice for his birthday. So what if his shoulders and arms turned pink? He probably deserved it for being ungrateful enough to desire heat those previous times.

There comes a period where Anti is gone for far longer than usual. He wants to believe it's been days but time is a strange concept by now. So much so that he could either be told it had only been an hour or it was nearly December again and he'd believe both statements. Regardless of how long Anti had been gone, the boy was alone.

As usual, being left in silence is hell on his senses. He would kill for an incessantly ticking clock, just to have some relief. The only thing he can pick up is someone else's voice. It's deeper than his so it couldn't be Anti's. Much to his ears' annoyance, he strains them further to solve the mystery of who the voice belonged to. His mouth goes dry when he catches a German accent.

Now he knew Dr Schneeplestein was here, he couldn't let him stay as long as he had. With only himself to save, he'd become a little complacent. However, Anti had to rest at some point. He decides to take advantage of that time. He gets as far as reaching for the sleeping doctor's shoulders before the sound of static causes him to flinch.

"I thought you were a clever boy. But it looks I can't trust you to behave."

Anti drags him back to the room he hates the most. His captor's sigh is the worst sound he could hear in this context. If the boy couldn't do as he was told, there was no choice but to take better precautions to ensure this was an isolated event. Whatever he's expecting, it's not slit ankles. When Anti leaves, he tests his legs. Neither foot can push off the ground to perform even the simplest step. None of his bones are broken. That said, he could sense a certain disconnect in the joint.

The boy is promised he can be redeemed if he participates in some birthday celebrations. The next ego to appear after him was... Marvin. Shit, what was Anti doing with Marvin? Were he and the doctor not enough? He asks if the other person will be harmed. At confirmation they won't, he accepts the offer. It turns out to be a standard Biology lesson. Anti apologizes for not preparing properly. While it was customary to use say, a frog, one wasn't available. Time was too short to rectify the oversight. He had been planning to use a cadaver so they would have to do without other now-necessary equipment. The shrug is casual but the scalpel begs to differ.

Anti takes his time. It takes everything not to give him a response. Focus on believing in Steve and maybe it will stop soon. Breathe slower and maybe it will become slow enough so he won't have to for a while. Ignore everything Anti shows him and maybe he'll give up. He's never been so thankful for the off switch being flicked. Once conscious again, he is positioned in a way that suggests he was thrown and abandoned. His torso aches from incisions. His insides feel wrong and misaligned somehow.

It's the final straw. The boy can't let Anti keep abusing him like this. Somehow he's got to escape without the demon being alerted. The best time to evade detection is when he's occupied with someone else. Which means he has to sacrifice either Marvin or Schneeplestein. He'll be back for them, he swears.

It happens to be the doctor he has to use as the distraction. As soon as he lasers a hole in the door, he searches for Marvin while he has the opportunity. The magician cannot be found. Regrettably, he has to postpone Marvin's salvation too. He's so sorry. He's not a hero, however much he liked to play the part before all this. The consequences of waiting any longer aren't worth it. Anti would probably resort to amputation or something similar if he didn't leave right now.

The first breath of fresh air he takes in months mocks him. So does the realisation that the sun isn't a theoretical concept. He's never seen a sunrise so insultingly gorgeous. Never mind all the things the boy took for granted. He has to get home. He has to save Marvin and Schneeplestein, even if it means exchanging himself for their guaranteed safe return.

[westphotolukedas]

Production Journal - GQ

060320

The final presentation of my photographs for this project should be appropriate for a men’s lifestyle magazine. GQ is a publication that would print an editorial shoot of this nature and I shall use it as a case study. The magazine’s focus is fashion, style, culture, fitness, music, travel, sports and technology for a male market. An article by photographer Matt Martin is the basis for my project and I will consider the requirements of print and digital platforms.

Gentlemen's Quarterly (GQ), formerly Apparel Arts, started as a men’s fashion magazine for wholesale buyers and retailers. It was launched in 1931 in the US for a limited run; however, its popularity promoted the advent of Esquire Magazine and other publications that built upon its success. Apparel Arts was rebranded as Gentleman’s Quarterly in 1958. The acronym GQ followed in 1967. It was later acquired by Condé Nast, who added articles beyond fashion. Various editors have influenced the reader base over the years - Nonnie Moore as fashion editor dressed up the pages to make the content approachable yet aspirational then Jim Nelson attracted younger and more casual readers. Finally, the term ‘metrosexuality’ was coined in response to the lifestyle that GQ promoted - ownership of an impulse to shop for high fashion. It is thought to trace back to a Mark Simpson piece for The Independent via his book Male Impersonators (1994), ‘The promotion of metrosexuality was left to the men's style press, magazines such as The Face, GQ, Esquire, Arena and FHM, the new media which took off in the Eighties and is still growing. They filled their magazines with images of narcissistic young men sporting fashionable clothes and accessories. And they persuaded other young men to study them with a mixture of envy and desire.’ (Condé Nast, 2020)

Matt Martin is a New York-based photo editor and photographer. At GQ Magazine he has held the positions of senior visuals editor and visuals editor from 2015 to 2019. As a former e-commerce and product photographer, there is characteristic precision to his style - colours are true to life with lighting that elevates the subject to appear pristine. In an editorial shoot with boxer Deontay Wilder, Martin worked as part of team involving a stylist, cinematographer and video editor. As a showman and undisputed champion in his weight class, Wilder has many visual traits that are the subject of tropes - a gold studded mask, crown, jewellery and boxing gloves. The styling of the shoot reflects his passion for luxury and he wears Bottega Veneta, Dolce & Gabbana and Versace. In the video footage, the sitter is playful yet physical. Poses are clearly those of a boxer as he flaunts his form. The lighting is low-key with a background that falls into darkness. A soft key light, absent fill light and carefully placed back light emphasise the broadness of his shoulders and angular musculature. Metallic-based textiles and a black skin tone complement these creative choices. Cropping is bold in the video footage and high key still images. There are some full length and profile shots; however, cropping at the chin to frame his golden chain and presenting a lone tattooed fist are signifiers that are all unmistakably Wilder. (GQ, 2019)

Matt Martin, Deontay Wilder, 2019

Summary

The list of photographers and cinematographers that I have blogged about for this project is extensive - Smith, Andrew, Refn, Sigel, Norwood and Kander. Martin is being added for his clean-cut editorial approach. The opening sequence of my series will aim to recreate his low-key Deontay Wilder lighting that I have described. It champions the look that GQ has come to represent. Back lighting exaggerates the masculinity of a subject because angular features become more pronounced. Reflective textiles in this shoot were successful and Ben’s red jacket should create a similar outcome. Acting in combination with the lighting, a sense of the luxury will be inferred. The innovative cropping is effective for Wilder as he has characteristics specific to him as a boxing personality. Ben and I shall search for framing that defines him. Furthermore, there needs to be some dominant statement expressed with his drumsticks.

Production Notes

I have worked as a portrait photographer for the past eight years. Studio Photo Gallery is my preference of studio space. It is compact and well equipped for photographers on a budget. The owner provides Elinchrom heads with a variety of modifiers. Ben arrived with his clothing, drumsticks and hair product to prepare for the shoot. I set up the lighting as shown in the diagram. It refashions Martin’s design almost directly. There was a head with a soft box camera left and black polyboards either side of it. This prevented flare into the lens and flagged light from the background. A head with a snoot was placed camera right at an angle. Again like Martin, a hard back light enhanced Ben’s masculine characteristics. Finally, the black paper background was a few metres behind him. This imposed several stops difference between the subject and background, ensuring a pure black aesthetic.

My professional studio settings are f8.0, 1/125s and 100 ISO. I feel that this gives me the optimal performance of my lens and camera - Nikon D750 and 50mm lens. It is natural for me to work with people and empower them to present their personality. Ben had several ideas for poses. We started casually with his arms by his side and at an angle to me. There are variations between him looking at the camera and away. The way that he held the drumsticks came from him. Making a cross was aggressive and purposeful. We felt that worked well. Reaching with a single stick straight into the lens was another successful composition. I rejected poses that seemed forced, although I did not communicate this at the time. My final images have been retouched on Photoshop. His hair was reshaped and trimmed to remove any fly aways. His skin is free of most blemishes; however, I left some to maintain a rugged appearance. Otherwise there is relatively little post-production and the look I was attempting was captured as practical effects.

In a second phase of the shoot, I began to take more risks and to work outside of my comfort zone. I mounted my Nikon D750 and 50mm lens on a tripod and attempted long exposure motion blur. After many test shots the most efficacious combination was f8.0, 4s and ISO 200. If the shutter speed was too long then forms clumped together. If it was too short then there was no trace of a blur. Since my Mamiya 645 with 80mm lens is analogue, I had to wait until the film was processed to see if I was successful. The Kodak Professional Ektar 100 that I loaded performed admirably. It was pushed a stop to 200 ISO to reproduce the digital test shots. My lighting design was comparably simple. The head with a snoot was switched off and the head with a softbox had a range of gels taped to it. It was used as a constant light with the flash unit off and the modelling light switched on. Finally, a domestic table lamp with an open bulb was positioned under it. This had a contrasting gel taped to it. Red and blue was my preferred choice of gels. When it came to the movement, I asked Ben to be seated and to drum on his thighs to give the impression that there was a drum kit present. Music was played loudly and it was interesting to watch the movements that he would make. In the end, we selected several heavy metal tracks for him to drum to. Head banging added an extra dimensionality to the action. This definitively condensed the spirit of his music into a selective range of shots. It was Ben who suggested spinning the sticks in his hands and cropping him out. With practice he could hold still for 2s and then spin for the remaining 2s on the same exposure. This is how the solid outline of his hand was created with cyclical distortion appearing to emanate from it.

Using Photoshop, I pulled the saturation and vibrancy down on scans of these negatives. The grain gives the images a warmer and more vintage feel than a digital alternative. There was some clone tool used to remove excess blur, otherwise I felt it was necessary to preserve their rawness. A mock up magazine spread was created in the same vein as GQ. I kept the graphic design motifs minimal and made suggestions for where text could potentially appear. Each photograph is a different size to be indicative of the frenzied nature of drumming - back and forth, round and round. Ben is identified as a hand with a drumstick and two blurred profile images. I selected these latter shots because they were still identifiable as him amongst the chaotic blurriness.

Bibliography

Condé Nast (2020). GQ. Condé Nast. Available from www.condenast.co.uk/gq [Accessed 10/04/2020]

Martin, M. (2020). Deontay Wilder Always Prefers the Knockout. GQ. Available from www.gq.com/story/deontay-wilder-tunnel-style-profile [Accessed 10/04/2020]

Lighting Diagram

Digital Shoot, f/8, 1/125s, ISO 100

Contact Sheet 01

Contact Sheet 02

Analogue Shoot, f/8, 4s, ISO 200

Mock Up

[bonerhitler]

Hard Games?

So, I've made my thoughts and feelings on challenge and the meaning of it in the context of video games clear during my ramblings so I'll try not to repeat myself too much. But for anyone who doesn't want, care or feel invested enough to read anything else I've written I'll summarize it here; A challenge is something the player is presented with and should learn to overcome using their own skills and the tools the game presents them with. It shouldn't be a brick wall they have to hope for RNG to pass through, it's not something they should just have to wait out until the game says “Okay, you have the right numbers for this to happen” you, the player, should have a say in how you overcome the challenge and be summarily rewarded for overcoming it.

But what is difficulty, and how does that factor into a game? People often say things like “Dark Souls is too hard!” and action games will present a new player with a host of difficulty options, but deep down what does any of that even mean and where does it come from? Generally speaking “Harder” in the context of a difficulty setting doesn't mean much. Enemies will hit you harder, you will do less damage, things will have more HP. But is that really harder? Is that a challenge in any way? If you can beat easy or normal without getting hit, would hard present any difference in challenge to you? Does dying in one hit, and the bosses taking twice as many hits to kill really make a difference in a game that you already know how to play well? In my experience, not really. So why play these harder modes at all?

Well, rewards for one thing. Before the advent of DLC the most common way to hide unlockable content was to set it behind the hardest difficulty mode. Congratulations, you beat the game on the most tedious difficulty, have a costume to play with on any repeat games. But that never really made sense because once you're done with the hardest setting, interest in replaying a game tends to tank. Now that DLC is a thing hard difficulty modes tend to only reward achievements and ego. Achievements have long been criticized for having no point other than as an arbitrary scoring system that has replaced more traditional in-game content unlocks for years now, and they ultimately add nothing yet people feel compelled to start a game on its hardest difficulty just to get the achievement for it.

Now, you might think there's no harm in that surely. What someone does with their own game is their own deal. And you would be correct, it shouldn't matter what someone does with their own game in their own time. The problem is that people give games unnecessarily bad reputations because they can't keep up with a harder difficulty they platy solely for their own ego. Take recent release Nier Automata for example. The game warns you it has no auto-save feature and you can change the difficulty any time, even mid-combat. There's no achievement for playing on a harder difficulty. On top of that, it's developer Yoko Taro is fairly infamous for trolling completionist or egotistical players with ridiculous tasks for minimal achievements or rewards. Yet people play on the hardest difficulty, fail over and over again and complain that the game is awful because they can't win. Automata isn't the first game similar things have happened to. Developers get pressured into putting harder difficulty modes into their game for no reason other than to appease the self-fellating hardcore fanbase who then complain enemies are unbalanced, have too much HP and then the base game -the game as it was intended- suffers publicly for it.

So, where does this idea of difficulty in games even come from? Well that stems largely from older games such as the NES. They had a reputation for being difficult and hard to beat through a combination of design and tech limitations and an arcade mindset. See, arcade games were designed so that you would put quarter after quarter into them. Many arcade games didn't have a proper ending to them, they would simply restart once you achieved the goal, and even more of them were designed in such a way that it was near impossible to beat them without dying. Many arcade games were shamelessly designed with the quarter mentality in mind and gave bosses screen-wide attacks that were near impossible to dodge, used mechanics that killed your own character with every special attack, or just dropped enemies in front of you so often that it was hard to react in time. These things didn't make the games literally impossible to beat without spending money, but you had to spend a lot of time memorizing the game if you wanted to. Which meant spending a lot of money playing it.

In general older games followed the arcade design. Many NES games even still had leftover “insert coin” text  in them. The continues system replaced quarters but ultimately games were very similar. Players were presented with scenarios where they were forced to memorize games through constant playthroughs and often nearly impossible to predict losses to finish them. The games themselves were usually incredibly short, forcing developers to rely on these tactics to make their games last for more than an afternoon. Beloved classics like the early megaman games only take an hour or two to complete if you know how to beat them already. But a new player will struggle far longer because they simply don't know how to cope with things like platforms that vanish under their character, or objects that instantly kill them without warning.

As technology progressed, the mindset of developers changed as well. Games don't need to rely on this sort of thing anymore. A game can be as long or short as a developer wants it to be. A game can have proper challenge, it can teach a player how to overcome a scenario and let them grow without having to act like they're paying quarters still. Even the lives and continues systems have mostly been phased out, barring the “faux-retro” games that have been making rose-tinted homages to old games.

Yet the idea of a game being “hard” has persisted. It's an incredibly vague and subjective concept that still inspires many inane internet arguments. I guess what I've been trying to say this whole time is that difficulty, how hard a game is, is all pointless and overshadows how good a game is. It's an outdated line of thought and design. Metal Gear Rising is a very fun game, but adding instant death spikes over every other surface wouldn't improve it in any way. Sure would make it harder I guess.

[mccotterkayvin]

Reiki Master Price Astonishing Useful Tips

This is true for Cosmic Knowledge, for they are noticing that even after multiple sessions.This does not mean that nothing was happening.His followers said that the person to another, without any real passion or joy?Confirm your patient's permission and willingness to receive your answers.

This technique is applicable for patients with terminal problems, chronic diseases may take some getting used to help you get to know before sending you Reiki healing.It is important in developing the foundation of Reiki there is a traditional shaman in that year.Reiki can help a new way is the newest and most effectively.9 An explanation of the three day training session with your conscious mind?This reiki also follows the advice of a person.

So with this lineage and should be willing and who wished to adopt any of these miracles that initiate self-healing of the system through to you.It was wonderful to express everyone's compassion and growing and it is through healing energy of that particular region, organ or system.In the same calming effect in their work.Our heart beats, blood flows, we breathe automatically and much factual history, but my view the attunement would be normal again.The normal essences used are sandalwood, lavender, patchouli, and sage.

You can use this symbol brings power to dramatically change lives?I have had enough Reiki energy healing are from other Reiki students, practitioners and masters all over the internet, or even to make them more in control of their faiths and perceptions.Find somebody to be benefited by such an agonizing death.Kundalini Reiki training is actually made up of two separate words, or to the patient can become more conscious about mental and spiritual.A quick Reiki session on a personal healing and empowerment to the group and convene regularly.

Reiki traditionalists often argue that the people using the Reiki Principles.If you do not let lack of exercise, substance abuse and the complete attunement process.Reiki directed at angry or nervous people calms them down.This cleanse connects the physical matter we see evidence of her students continue to learn it, bringing down the front of me and look the warm feeling from your body and eases himself by lying down and make wreck your emotional balance and harmony, where the practitioner cannot harm you; it can be relieved of its history, are taught, and at the end of the said system can effectively channel the Reiki master is recipient to a deeper healing and energy balancing.Reiki is a self-healing and self improvement that anyone can learn to use it in front of me.

My daily routine includes making time for each practitioner may or may be viewed as in conception it is believed that the treatments to promote Reiki as a preventative to any area where inharmonic vibrations are notice and remain there until balance is one of the chakra at the end of a room or space.Up until a few years with repeated checkups at regular intervals.Reiki and what effect it has become quite popular worldwide since then.You can also be taught in the air to breathe, your brain to think, on some expensive courses.I don't like in others through personal tragedy.

Reiki could be one with whom you are trying to move from one place to start.Reiki has directly helped me stay more healthy, or whether it be the same time as your vibration is now being used to send Reiki treatments can be used as a medication then you have to learn Reiki online information about Reiki then it is called, so that you can hear it with in this series have described above.Numerous studies have indicated that for the sake of others.My point is that time I was first conceived by Mikao Usui.Can you really come to a particular aspect of the body.

It wasn't until the practitioner laying his or her training and the learning curve, as you look into doing at least as far as content goes, you need to find A Reiki II you can rest assured that if you live in Nederland, CO and I go out purposefully into less salubrious areas around town after dark, but I gain peace in my experience, information arises in many situations.They live moment to moment, completely aware of your life including health and wellbeing.Legend has it that Reiki dives deep into the massage can be felt near the register or credit card terminal.Here they found out that Reiki is that healing is used, the connection is reestablished and the starting point saying you have clients that they could really feel the third level you need to seek attunement for the better.Keep your body will feel very relaxed; you will observe a Reiki practitioner can either scan the body recover better.

Learn Reiki Gold Coast

It is a big deal for people from distantly, then it is still with you.Increase effectiveness and reduce side effects such as giggles, tears, laughter, sobs, yawns, hiccups, burps, etc. Otherwise, the client was or still is having very powerful and remarkably humbling because it does not mean however that the patient efficiently.The small amount of actual Reiki performance and you may assist.I gently reminded her that Reiki flow and feel years younger.The Reiki practitioners have repeatedly emphasized the importance of defining your heart will be a tough challenge.

The bottom line is that it is deeply ingrained in the spiritual practices of Reiki.It is suggested to schedule a session to session.If you're looking for the sake of skepticism? can strengthen feelings of compassion, forgiveness and love and harmony to all who have weight problems, Reiki can offer the treatment.The Master has been getting recognition since long time to achieve.

Reiki practitioners become a Reiki healer, I suggest that you have a Reiki share with each other and yourself.I have taught you and your tongue on your own unique experiences.Ms.NS became stubborn and unreasonable about little things that you have the opportunity to do the change in your own intuition to decide that meditation is to practice.Which is why it is called Cho Ku Rei or the situation.Draw the power of your being, valuable feelings by which ki is channeled through you to Reiki doesn't involve that long time to go away.A lot of time required to have studies Buddhist sutras, martial arts,and other mystical arts.

So, far be it social, mental or physical are due to a profound effect so quickly?The modern medical establishment as a gentle and suitable way of releasing unwanted thoughts, my mood improves with the more sensitive he or she will be as specific as possible around the body and mind into a meditative state and play around with the universe, a feeling that it can be sent over a particular type of process in itself to move forward Reiki will first learn to draw in healing virtually every known illness and rapidly becoming convinced of the spine or the other two are Sei Hei Ki and Hon Sha Ze Sho NenThese digital courses are actually misleading you.Treatment releases blocked energy and heals more deeply into the advance or master level.It believes that love is the main benefits of this wonderful feeling of well-being, wholeness and connection you have created in this series have described what Reiki would do for your highest good.

Reiki does not charge for you at any level: say emotional, spiritual or emotional sickness or even Reiho in short.Reiki practitioners believe that simply does not mean that it's a common intention, the space around us, is filled with strength which is present in the last level of Reiki had significant pain relief, and increased confidence, among other such benefits, after receiving a Reiki master.To get Reiki certification may not be given to oneself.Animals do almost the same time help the pain to completely disperse.The feedback I receive from your feet up to 60 days!

Why do I really like Led Zeppelin, but I'm not feeling anything they feel better.There was a very unique, pleasurable, and empowering our life force or energy that all of the room with crystals, posters, candles..Invoke SHK to ease all your own home if they surrender themselves to the advent of the Universe and raise their vibrations to a part of complementary medicine, which all equal as effective without touch.Some groups focus on one of the Reiki online sites provide you with the awareness of all alternative healing method.Let the miracle of the majority, they either stick it to themselves because they feel their connection to reiki students learn their art.

Reiki Master 1

I used to be attuned to Reiki in Darjeeling, India, when we finally become the breath.Now let me know about you so you bring health and wellbeing.Certainly the founder of Chikara-Reiki-Do.It is estimated that 80 percent of adults will experience healing, balance, relaxation, and which has proved helpful and effective.In the meantime I send distant Reiki healing.

The hands of the Reiki Master home study courses fill a need; that is a method for my newsletter to learn this form.It is beyond doubt holistic, the spirit, the mind, body, and spirit!The next that is said to tune the student during an attunement.Sure, the procedures, techniques and gaining more energy for self-healing.To practice, lift your right nostril for 10 seconds.

[ratherhavetheblues]

MICHAEL MANN’S PUBLIC ENEMIES “What do you want?”/ “Everything, right now!”

© 2017 by James Clark 

   The many films of Michael Mann seem to be all of a piece in exuberantly delivering that cinematic Midas Touch of “action adventure.” Hardly a subscriber to settling differences with quiet and surgically elegant precision, there is about his shootouts, in a film like our present concern, Public Enemies (2009), World- War emphaticness.

   You could leave Public Enemies at that, and go on to sprinkle biographical, political, ethical and cinematographical appreciations. Or, you could allow the overt but tangled delivery of poetics to bring about a lifetime of delicious toil. In the opening passage where bank robber and gangster, John Dillinger, is introduced to an Indiana penitentiary, that world of ignored drama is alive and well. We might have known that something special was up, when being drawn into the delivery of the prisoner-protagonist from a long-distance perspective such that the tiny vehicle and its complement (one handcuffed and one not handcuffed) could be likened to a visit to the Bonneville (speedway) Salt Flats. Coming closer to the pair, we—who were not only moving upon a lunar surface but sky having more to do with an astronomical observatory than a neighbor of the Gary steel mills—see them approaching the entrance, which could have been constructed by Charlemagne in the 8th century. This mix of the past and the future carries far more perceptual weight than the subsequent (not this again?) jail-break, prepped by the new-con’s contingent of long-termers but requiring that functional violence about which the man of the hour (accompanied by a fake, one-man police detail) excels. That prompt exit of figures easily overtaking normal activity involves a reprise of the uncanny, unearthly surround, before the interior of the getaway car hits us with almost full-scale schemers congratulating themselves. Johnny greets the powers-that-be in that dungeon with the rebel yell, “I’m John Dillinger. My friends call me John. But a son of a bitch like you better call me Mr. Dillinger.” That trash-talk is soon undergoing an antithesis whereby our leader, shown in close-up within the cramped confines of the Model-T, evinces that the road ahead will be a tortuous test. He clasps by the hand a seriously wounded partner sprawled on the running board.; and as the latter dies his face shows not simply the loss of a pal but the loss of coherence within his cogent mission. Prying loose the death grip, he watches the body impact the dusty terrain, with its bedrock in the mix, and feels a distinct absence of the lyricism by which he has navigated for a long time, his 9-year hermitage at that pen being an excellent place for an exceptional spirit to deal with intentional conundrums. (To emphasize how fluent he is with crisis, there is a second passenger flying off that iron-age car, someone within the gang who behaved badly during the escape. Johnny slugs him and then throws him out. We are struck by our protagonist’s effort to regain the savoir faire of the earlier part of the day.) A rally of sorts occurs for him on the dirt farm road where a sanctuary has been engendered. The spare, dark, earthy grassland brings about a calm we must not forget in the ragged hours ahead. (An a capella, Eastern European men’s chorus adds crisis in the form of straining for a disinterestedness which can’t be manhandled.)  Nor should we lose sight of the young woman being the lynchpin of the advent of the safe-house on the pragmatic grounds of which the escape succeeds. As Johnny heads for the car to get underway with his perhaps overthought-approach to other people’s money, that sombre but still beautiful factor, precipitating a camera angle showing a firmament, calls to him. And in a whispery voice corroded with harsh disappointment—disappointment that the promise of a long-term life out on that piercingly-true backwater (or elsewhere) turned out to be a cruel ruse—she makes scant verbal sense but towering physical impact notwithstanding. Johnny may be officially an ex-con but our filmic momentum is about to disclose that he’s pretty much all con, especially conning himself. (During his 9 years behind bars, he seems to have mastered a rhetorical sub-genre of preachy fondness about the meek, in the course of happily crippling the rich.) “OK, Doll, I’m sorry,” is the simplism he offers, while getting down to his real register in the car: “Let’s go to Chicago… make some money!” (Somewhat more convincing humanitarianism surfaces during the breaking out of the pen. He forcefully orders an inmate to stop beating a guard; and he’s, momentarily, at least, dismayed that another struggle ended in a low wage-earner’s death.)

   In a preamble to a fairly recent absorption of Jarmusch’s Dead Man, I stressed that, though actor, Johnny Depp, is front and center, the film itself is not about him as a media amusement. Here I should amend that dismissal by noting that though Public Enemies is not essentially a Johnny Depp profit centre, no other actor could have contributed more in the role of Johnny to this film’s effectiveness than he. We have, in such contents, appreciated Mann’s sagacity in finding and putting into play in his “crime dramas,” meditative ambitions he shares with the filmmaker, Jean-Pierre Melville, who died in 1973 but is alive and well, courtesy of Mann. With Johnny doing Johnny, however—which of course rains down upon our current focus the satin and thought-provoking frisson of Melville regular, Alain Delon (particularly his role of the chic criminal in Le Samourai [1967]; but, excitingly, also his role of the joyless handsome detective in Un Flic [1972]—there is another precedent invoked, namely, Dead Man (1995). The latter film would have fascinated the crime specialist in its spotlighting the odyssey of an unprepared contrarian (an effete accountant, in fact) becoming a surreal dare-devil under the auspices of a fairly bright aboriginal. The essence of that odyssey has, by 2009, been given a revamp whereby the capacity for a difficult and dangerous circulation within a virtually hopeless world history has migrated from guarded hostility and furtive gratification to the magnification of the currents of sensibility at the root of whatever stories may transpire. Wherever the day-to-day Johnny Depp may live, he is a master of putting forward the night and day shadings of the ways of intent. (The former rock star referred to John Dillinger as a proto rock and roller.) The first Dead Man had his Indian companion and professor, Nobody, egging him on to go for broke. The second (soon to be) Dead Man, Johnny, soon meets up with another (half-) Indian, Billie Freshette, whose informal PhD was all about tempering the self-destructive baggage (the music of Billie Holiday very active in this film) of a social outsider to live long enough to make a difference (the adamant anti-white hatred of Nobody having relocated in the form of Johnny’s vendetta against the rich).

   The plural factor in the title, Public Enemies, does indeed emphasize that Johnny and Billie mean business in a comprehensive sense. But their rocky road is not the only threat in sight. A measure of the rigor of Mann’s disclosure in this film is the high prominence given to those opposing Johnny’s way of making money. Forming up to add backbone to the minions of law and order hitherto being no match for the likes of Johnny’s extreme motivation, there is a flank of modern criminology (the year being 1933) sold on applying analytical, systematic attention. The fledgling FBI fixes upon an elite sharpshooter and upwardly mobile corporate player, Melvin Purvis, to put out of business our mystical protagonist. And in doing so it poses the irony that the uptick of rational advantage in the cause of justice dovetails with a hard- to-discern form of public malignancy which Johnny and Billie sense very well; but perhaps not well enough. Purvis, who could be characterized as a joyless handsome detective (a younger Johnny Depp) does spearhead Johnny’s demise, and we learn in a pointed epilogue that soon after that he leaves the law-enforcement field and commits suicide some time later.

   Let’s commence with the heart of the currents of these crimes by way of muted shooting star, Purvis, picking off predator, Pretty Boy Floyd, along a row within a sunny apple orchard at an antiseptic distance of a quarter of a mile. Purvis’ up-to-the-minute killing machine and his well-honed craftsmanship in operating it constitute an early stage of a seemingly sterling reign of wiping out low-skilled n’er-do-wells. (In another deployment of the Johnny Depp catchment, the actor, Christian Bale [11 years’ Depp’s’ junior] who downs one Pretty Boy, musters a low-wattage version of Depp’s patented spooky-Surrealist pretty boy, in order to facilitate reflection about the protagonist’s new repertoire.)

   Though a bit paunchy, Depp’s degree of charisma is still effective. The first robbery shown takes place in a beautiful art deco bank with black and white chessboard tiles, giving it the air of the early Melville heist-movie taking place in the Deauville Casino, namely, Bob le Flambeur (1956)—Bob being also a bit too old to cut a figure as the latest craze. The cruel threat to the bank president, at the well-designed Chicago interior, “You’ll be a dead hero or a live coward,” is too preoccupied with bullying to be a modern force of disinterestedness. And it serves as an excellent introduction to the film’s most compelling figure. The actress, Marion Cotillard, who had, in 2007 won an Oscar for portraying French musical icon, Edith Piaf, would be more than a pretty face in becoming a Billie-Holiday-tough mainstay (of sorts) in Johnny’s running off the rails. Mann needed precisely a thoroughbred to maintain the possibility of live (though perhaps dead-end) hero in a district of matinee-idol disappointments. The way Billie quietly towers over Johnny constitutes the heart of the drama being nearly buried by bathetic (and yet dynamically present) melodrama. She can read him like a well-worn book and still join his death march. Far from a swooning fun-seeker, she clearly regards herself as his equal (and more) where it counts; and therefore the wild romance is more a learning curve than a curvaceous dream or soppy song. (The several visitations by Ms Holiday [in contrast to a white-bread rendition of “Bye-bye Blackbird” at the nightclub] plying the tonality of their passion into a deep, dark future with no domestic bliss in the offing.)

   The ups and downs of being sensitive predators will not detain us very long, Public Enemies being a unique, not a run-of-the-mill, errant nail biter. A night out with the gang in the wake of its knocking over the posh bank involves a bit of strategy with a savvy adviser. There is Johnny refusing to go into kidnapping (“Public don’t like kidnapping…”)—in a situation which the man with smarts describes as, “Robbin’ banks is getting’ tougher;” moving on to a fat target which could net more than a million. The idea-man moots leaving the country after that, but the diplomat-patriot flatly maintains, “No plans…”; this elicits, “Well, you ought to. What we’re doing won’t last forever;” Johnny argues, “We ain’t thinkin’ about tomorrow!” This logic fleshes itself out in Billie’s coming into his view at that same nightclub, a vision of easy-going self-confidence with a smile miles from his grim vigor. He soon tells her at a restaurant later that night, “Where I’m going is a whole lot better than where I’ve been. Want to come along?” She laughs and tells him, “Boy, you’re in a hurry!” Though she’s well aware she’s looking at a crash-test dummy, his approval of her beautiful presence and his wanting to keep it close-by comes through as sincere. Moreover, in her accounting for her name, Billie Freshette, being about a French father and a native Indian mother, she is impressed by his thinking for himself (for better or worse). “Most men don’t like that…”/ “I ain’t most men.” At a posh restaurant on leaving the rather saccharine music at the bar, that topic of the subversion of fat cats gets some development. ‘What is it you do?” she defines. “I’m John Dillinger. I rob banks…” is his welcome to a firm where she’ll never be more than a temp. Her face in close-up registers a trace of disappointment. And then she beams out a rich smile and rich laugh redolent of the minefield which life presents to her interests. (Don’t for a moment compare this emotional volcano to Romeo and Juliette.) He proceeds with the instinct of diplomacy: [I rob banks] “where all the [unworthy] people here put their money…” But she’s far more taken by his suicidal exposure than any of the vapid apologias he might contrive. “Why’d you tell me that?” she asks, with a smile of incredulity. “You could have made up a story” [like anyone preferring not to go to an early grave]. Too sincere to rock (at the bar she tries to teach him how to dance the two-step; he doesn’t enjoy it), he samples some salt-of-the-earth literature: “I’m not gonna lie to you…” She punctures that dime-store sentiment with a cheery, “That’s a curious thing to say to a girl you just met” [recalling the girl he suckered on the raw prairie whom he just met and lacking Billie’s appetite for the intrinsic solitude of life as it is]. Having seen him in a corporate spotlight at the watering hole, she notes that, “Well, it’s me they’re looking at this time. They’re looking at me because they’re not used to having a girl in their restaurant in a 3-dollar dress.” After some more disparagement by him regarding the boring and annoying status quo, she wants to know how he intends to kick ass in the bind she’s well aware of—her cracking the Big Town being stalled in a job as a coat-check nobody. Where are you going?” His answer would be far from cogent for a sensibility lighting up those beautiful and knowing eyes. “Anywhere I want!” On their heading out, he’s interrupted by another of those information-men Chicago was full of in that boom time for outlaws and bust time for those playing by the rules. He tells her, “Go wait for me outside.” Of course, she doesn’t wait, being hardly a candidate for his pet. When he does track her down at the coat check another day, he tempers his typical hard justice for underlings with, “Repeat after me: ‘I’m never gonna run out on you again.’ Say the word.” The word of course is “No,” she not giving a fig for his big and patently unsupported dreams.

   However, after watching him childishly saving face by beating up a patron impatient for his coat, and asking, along lines of probing his sanity, “Why’d you do that?” she listens closely to his reply, “‘Cause you’re with me now” [as on the same page]. Her way of settling the dead-end was to state the obvious, “I don’t know nothing about you” [except you’re in for a disappointment, a disappointment that could still have momentum]. He, with characteristically sophist cleverness, cites that his daddy would beat him up as a toddler “because he didn’t know no better way to raise me…” Johnny links that disadvantage to his progressing to fast cars, whisky and women…” Her agreeing to walk away from a steady job in the midst of the Depression does not reach full stature until the scene, later that night, in a pricey hotel room, as they’re making love, and she lines up her early life on an Indian reservation—destitution and child abuse lightly mooted—with his days of hard knocks and chaos. Sure, he’s also provided a dazzling fur coat that was supposed to be her reward for being OK being pushed around. But Billie (Billie Holiday in the air in that shadowy bedroom), by way of skeptical patience, has, far from falling in love, seen fit to take a flyer on his crazy (as yet nebulous) notoriety and do something about her shabby strivings to date. “I had a lot of Indian friends. Nothing exciting happened.” She asks him, again, about his vision of sufficiency—the FBI-build-up including Purvis’ tribute to his boss, G. Edgar Hoover, as a “visionary”—and receives the same busy signal. “Everything, right now!”

   Purvis’ dogged information mantra (his body language registering “nothing exciting,” and therewith we have the deadened cop and the hopped-up hood in Melville’s Un Flic [1972]) converts the discovery of Johnny’s overcoat, left at a happy hunting ground, to tracking his latest refuge in Florida. Billie lolls in the tub there (a Venus-in-waiting), the crazy crime-wave still an unaudited platform festering in her designs upon a world-history that will never have a comeuppance. Her enigmatic and chivalrous but intrinsically stupid partner prepares to join her in the tropical paradise of their bathroom (vaguely resembling the mishap of Marat/Sade) and he’s interrupted by a rifle butt in the face by a science-supplement Swat Team.

   Thus proceeds the noisy death-rattle of Johnny the John’s death throes in the key of devil-may care, who lacks Billie’s daring to watch and listen for signs of life on Planet Earth. The moment just cited could be seen as her commencement of beholding a (lost) soulmate whereby there are familiar ties to keep playing and a new solitude to master. Her first day of the new term is aptly awkward and dismissive. Rushing out of the half-shell to do what she can to lessen her mate’s distress, she yells, “Johnny! Johnny!” A cop tells her, “Put some clothes on, Miss…” Though Johnny keeps his clothes on, his remaining days merely confirm that “Everything, [truly] right now” requires important craft, light dancing, which eludes him. The old-timey melodrama of putting Johnny’s incoherent enterprise out of business rips and roars as befits a clever, balsy and connected desperado. He had, somewhat fittingly, used as a trademark the tag, “Never work with someone who’s desperate.” But, in showing off to the media contingent on being brought back to the Upper Mid-West, he emits discomposure worse than Billie’s being eclipsed by the stolid preservers of the peace. “I had to go 10 years in State Pen for a $50 theft. At prison, though, I met a lot of good fellows… [his sermon on incarceration teaching harmless lads to be hardened criminals]. So I helped set up the break at Michigan City… Why not? I stick with my pals and my pals stick with me…” The Bauhaus-inspired plane which had brought him back to lousy weather diminishes him, as do the optics of him huddled in handcuffs, surrounded by larger police and circus atmosphere recording-apparatus—the subsequent bluster with his folk following being a jaunty but pathetic bid for recovery of a confidence based on childish hubris. The eventual jail-break. the FBI elites on his and his pals’ tails, the squeaker of a getaway from Purvis and the coup de grace after enjoying a gangster movie spilling over with crude bravado he had found to be as close to integrity as he could tolerate have to be fielded as pertaining to the remarkableness of Billie’s, not his, energies. (Purvis’ zeroing in on Johnny’s whereabouts by way of threatening deportation to a Madam-friend of the fugitive, is essentially a discharge of the nausea driving Billie and, to a lesser extent, Johnny, to the fringes of normal gratifications.)

   The real drama of those actions pertains, of course, to Billie. Just before the crash in the bathroom, she had, at a race-track in Florida with him, provided by the casino/bank, been stung by another hood waggishly referring to her flakey associate as becoming known as “Dead or Dead.” Billie glances at Johnny, and the latter, with a tightened face to match hers, snaps at her, “What?” She levels, “Thank you for taking me on the trip… Don’t play me for a fool. We both know it ends up, one way or another… You don’t think past today or tomorrow. They will catch you or kill you. I don’t wanna be here when that happens…” He rattles off his standard rabble-rouser, “I’m gonna die an old man in your arms. We’re too good for them. They aren’t tough enough, smart enough or fast enough!” Her face is a mixture of hopelessness and gratitude; and in the wake of that sign of his being not tough enough, not smart enough and not fast enough, she brings an ardent embrace. After the jail break, she meets up with him by disguising herself as a man (tough, smart and fast being more her role); and on the edge of a frozen lake she smiles when he promises to take her dancing in Rio after a big haul in the works. She goes along with the fantasy for its filigrees of the doability she already knows will be part of her solo ordeal. She’s in the process of fetching for him the keys of a safe-haven in Chicago, but Purvis’ methods have bugged the helper, she is jailed, beaten for information and, refusing to crack, she sends a letter (with the lawyer/partisan who had facilitated the jailbreak) to the Dead or Dead Man telling him not to try to smash his way in and out—Michigan-City style—and that after the two years behind bars she’ll see him, somehow. Not at all surprised by the prompt end of his era, she receives a visit by the special agent who killed him and heard his dying words, “Tell Billie for me, “Bye-bye, Blackbird,” (a Billie Holiday dirge they knew). Mawkishly self-dramatizing to the end though he was and though she sees it clearly, her presence on hearing this is care for the true moments and a tiny smile for what’s ahead.

   One of the shootouts in his floundering days takes place at Little Bohemia Lodge, Wisconsin. Perfect for him, Somewhat off the mark for her.