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battlestar-royco · 5 years ago

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here is part 2 of my sci fi recs masterlist! again, i could’ve gone on with even more recs but i decided to draw the line here. this set for the most part errs on the darker side, thematically, visually, conceptually etc. i personally find it super thought-provoking and intriguing but that’s just me. i highly recommend reading the tw under the cut if you’re thinking of watching, especially the matrix and space gothic slides. please view at your discretion <3

part 1/2

If you like WLW (um idk why I only made this slide based on identity; it just kinda happened lmao but I think it works):

Siren: (tw: parent loss, grief, thalassophobia) a mermaid surfaces in a cove town looking for her lost sister. Polyamorous relationship between a man, a black/indigenous woman, and the mermaid!!!! Environmentalism! As a person who has thalassophobia, I didn’t find this too hard to watch. There aren’t that many underwater scenes, thankfully.

Black Mirror: San Junipero: (tw: grief, but otherwise none that I recall; it’s pretty lighthearted) two women meet in a beach resort in the 80s and fall in love. Interracial wlw!

Orphan Black: (tw: suicide, infertility, rape implication, VB, language, drug use) a woman realizes she is one of several clones and uncovers an elaborate corporate conspiracy. This is one of my personal favorites with great rep of complex women of all ages and bodily autonomy. Several central queer characters and a black male secondary character!

Starfish: (tw: grief, a few jump scares and brief monstrous imagery, blood) after the death of her best friend, a young woman breaks into the deceased’s apartment and discovers a chain of music tapes that could save the world. Weird, subtle, and experimental. Not to sound like a surfer but you kinda have to allow yourself to be in the vibe. The main character and her friend were definitely a thing imo.

Annihilation: (tw: body horror, VB, disturbing imagery) a team of women scientists explore an anomaly that rapidly mutates genes. There are canonical and coded wlw and multiple (light-skinned) POC in this but the rep is short-lived. I put it on because although it should’ve been more ambitious with the casting, I think it breaks *some* ground for Hollywood sci fi with the all-woman team and more than one WOC. Wack ending though.

Mad Max: Fury Road: (tw: rape implication, violence) I think everyone knows about this one but: in the apocalypse, a woman breaks 4 younger women out of a harem. A badass car chase across the desert ensues. A bit light on plot/worldbuilding, but sooooo cool-looking and very thematic!!!!

If you liked STRANGER THINGS:

It: (tw: VB) don’t actually watch this lmao I’m serious. It’s really stupid, and not in a funny way. But I do think Stranger Things was inspired by this story overall. The modern It films are better but they’re also really kjslsklskls stupid? Stephen King in general is obsolete imo.

The Thing: (tw: VB) an alien that can take the form of others wreaks havoc on a scientific facility in Antarctica. It’s dark and vibey, but I feel like it’s just Alien in Antarctica with truly terrible special effects tbh?? Others feel differently. It’s also classified as sci fi/horror, so stay away if you’re easily scared! Not too good on representation.

Super 8: (tw: some language) a group of preteens witnesses an alien-caused train crash as they’re filming a home movie. Not diverse but I definitely think it inspired a lot of sci fi for the 2010s, ESPECIALLY Stranger Things. Not too scary either!

ET: (tw: it’s been a really long time since I watched so I don’t remember but it’s rated PG) I think everyone knows what this is about!

Alien: (tw: VB) truckers in space discover a deadly evolving alien. One of my favorite movies of all time! I love the aesthetic and the mood and worldbuilding so much. Ellen Ripley is one of the first Final Girls in the horror genre. I personally found this more of a sci fi than a horror movie but I’d say stay away if you’re nervous!!

Terminator: (tw: VB) a deadly android is sent to kill a woman who’s destined to birth the man who saves the world. Terminator 2 is way better imo because it centers on Sarah rather than the dudes saving her and trying to kill her. But it’s still worth a watch, you know, for the culture.

If you liked CONTAGION:

War of the Worlds: (tw: blood) pretty straightforward aliens come to Earth to take over. Sorry to rec another T*m Cruise movie but I really like the alien design and the apocalypsey feel of this one. Baby Dakota Fanning is in it too!

Falling Skies: (tw: VB, body horror, rape) alien invasion yada yada but the alien lore gets more interesting as it goes on. It’s kind of cheesy and yeah maybe I did discover it by looking up the iCarly boyfriend (and what about it??) but it’s nice to have on in the downtime. An Asian woman co-stars.

Knowing: (tw: blood) school students unearth a time capsule that contains a sheet from a girl who predicted all the tragic world events between 1959-2009. This is NOT a good movie but it’s SO hilarious to me because of the acting and contrivances. Fun to group-watch!!!!

10 Cloverfield Lane: (tw: VB, emotional abuse) a woman wakes up in a bunker to a captor who tells her that the world has fallen to alien apocalypse. I think this movie elevates the original Cloverfield in pretty much every way. Again, super tense and moody. The conflict revolves around whether or not the captor is being truthful.

Train to Busan: (tw: extreme VB and disturbing imagery) a man and his daughter are on a train when a zombie hops on at the last minute. It’s Korean with an all-Asian cast; Choi Woo-shik co-stars. I definitely wouldn’t watch if you’re scared of blood and gore. It’s very gross and violent.

12 Monkeys: (tw: ableism, violence) a man from the 2030s is sent back to the 1990s to prevent the plague that will end the world. I think the aesthetics of this are really cool but otherwise it’s not a favorite. But I think it appeals to people who like apocalypse and time travel stuff!

If you liked THE MATRIX:

Strange Days: (tw: rape, sex, nudity, VB, racism, police brutality) memories can be saved to hard-drives and sold on the black market for exorbitant prices. Very problematic and triggering presentation of rape, but young Angela Basset stars and there’s a condemnation of police brutality that’s still relevant 20+ years after its release.

Upgrade: (tw: ableism, VB, fridging) a disabled man installs an AI in his spine to help him move and investigate the murder of his wife. The premise is glaringly ableist and I feel weird even recommending it tbh but it’s got great visuals and a few good twists.

Altered Carbon: (tw: VB, weird interracial body switching, uhhh I haven’t finished this one IDK) in a society where human bodies are interchangeable, a man wakes up in a new body after 300 years of his mind being dormant. A Latina woman co-stars, two Asian characters in a subplot, a few other POC here and there as well. I think season 2 stars a black man.

eXistenZ: (tw: VB, anti-Asian racism, general weirdness? IDK it’s hard to describe. There are guns made out of bones and weirdly sexual visuals.) after someone tries to assassinate her, a video game designer and her bodyguard must play through her virtual reality game in order to save the only copy of the game.

Minority Report: (tw: VB, eye removal/insertion) all crimes are predicted and criminals reported before they are committed. The main character is preemptively accused of murder. This one is really white but it was one of the first movies that got me into sci fi. Early 2000s Colin Farrell <3.

If you liked WESTWORLD:

Humans: (tw: uncanny valley, objectification) androids are household helpers and public assistants throughout Britain until one day they start developing consciences. It hits a lot of the themes of Westworld without all the unnecessary pretentiousness, “edginess,” and “grittiness,” and it stars Gemma Chan and Colin Morgan!!

Blade Runner 2049: (^) an android is ordered to find and kill a human/android hybrid. It’s not without its issues but it’s one of my favorite movies of all time, right up there with Alien. So beautiful, so thematic, so thought-provoking (to me, anyway. I know a lot of people thought it was way too slow).

Ex Machina: (^) a man is invited to a private estate to help test the intelligence of an android. It’s kind of predictable imo but you know Oscar Isaac and Sonoya Mizuno are in it so we have to stan, and so is Domhnall Gleeson, for the SW fans! I like how isolated and quiet it feels.

I Am Mother: (tw: blood, gaslighting) after an extinction event, a young woman is raised by a lone android in a human repopulation facility until one day a woman knocks. It starts off slow and a bit generic, but I’m obsessed with the 2nd and 3rd acts of this movie---good acting, dialogue, and fantastic visuals. It has that same isolated feel as Ex Machina with only three characters, all of which are women/woman-coded!!!

If you liked ALIEN (space gothic):

Battlestar Galactica (2004-2008 reboot): (tw: genocide, war, colonization, VB, uncanny valley, rape, infidelity) space opera that follows humanity as it fights the ever-evolving and powerful enemy of their own creation: androids named Cylons. Um? I L O V E THIS SHOW SO MUCH and I truly do think it’s everything sci fi should be. There is a really unfortunate Miss Saigon-esque romance plot in season 1 and a lazily-written love triangle involving a black woman in season 3, but otherwise it’s one of my all-time favorites and I highly recommend. It’ll spin your mind and tug your heartstrings for years.

Black Mirror: Men Against Fire: (tw: genocide, war, nudity) soldiers in the near future protect citizens from mutant zombies, but one soldier starts experiencing strange hallucinations in the field. This is such an underrated Black Mirror episode starring a black man. There’s brief objectification of a black woman but it’s very anti-military and it has an interesting sterile aesthetic that reminds me of Alien.

High Life: (tw: rape, black holes/space anxiety, very disturbing) prisoners are given the option to join a space expedition and serve as experimental subjects en route to a black hole. Please please stay away if you are triggered by sexual violence of any kind. There’s almost no physical violence in this movie but it’s psychologically haunting imo.

The Faculty: (tw; VB, drug use) high schoolers discover their teachers are being possessed by an invading alien race. I LOVE THIS MOVIE LMFAOOOO. The cast is SO wild---Elijah Wood, John Oliver, Usher, Salma Hayek, Josh Hartnett??? And I’m probably forgetting more. The combination of the cast, the terrible dialogue, and shitty special effects is PEAK comedy imo. But bear in mind it’s bloody!!

Prometheus: (tw: body horror, VB, uncanny valley) a crew of scientists heads on a deep space mission to find the aliens who created the human race. A prequel to Alien, but I kind of view it as its own thing. Despite the plot holes, I love this movie too! It was one of my sci fi gateways and the visuals are stunning. It’s pretty gory though so if that’s not your thing stay away.

Life: (tw: extreme VB) a lesser Alien, but it provides all the space gothic tropes (jokey crew, shots of space, really pretty spaceship, everyone dies, creepy alien) with a well-known cast---Gyllenhaal, Reynolds, etc.

The X Files: (tw: a few episodes contain 90s racism, sexism, queerphobia etc but you can skip them) a lot of people have watched this so I barely have to explain, but it’s one of my favorites. Two FBI agents investigate multiple aliens and get involved in government conspiracies along the way. A good gateway!

A Quiet Place: (tw: child loss, VB, tension) I think most people know what this is about too. Alien apocalypse with aliens that hunt by sound. The daughter in the family is deaf, and so is the actress who portrays her. The representation of deafness was critically acclaimed.

#maxine talks sci fi #movie recs #maxine did you read/watch

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an-incurable-affection-blog · 5 years ago

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Wieland, or The Transformation. An American Tale.

Charles Brockden Brown. 1798. “Romanticism and Gothic” list.

Pro forma for early novels, Wieland opens with the obligatory justification for its existence on the grounds of its salutary moral lesson. The next thing we learn from the first-person narrator, à la its predecessor Caleb Williams, is that the story will have an unhappy ending. But many pages will have to be turned before we learn the specifics.

Wieland creates suspense, not with immediate action that makes us want to know what happens next, but by stating an outcome up front (total devastation of the narrator’s life) and making us read not for the what but the how. It triggers the same impulse as not being able to look away from a car crash. The narrator’s long interjections bemoaning events further delay the gratification of learning what happens next.

It features countless themes and tropes of (especially the early) gothic, and early novels more broadly, but I’ll start counting them anyway⁠—terror and horror; the hypnotic, irresistible power of the horrifying; curiosity; madness; the somatic roots of emotion; melancholy and imagination; Burkean principles of sublimity; closets; corpses; perfect heroines; interplay of interior emotions and the external environment; naturalistic explanations of seemingly supernatural events; dreams. Characters place themselves at windows to ruminate. They understand the paradoxical pleasures of pain and the solace of weeping. Their emotional traumas lead, inevitably, to physical illness. Women understand “the remediless and unpardonable outrage on the dignity of the sex” involved in being the first to disclose one’s romantic feelings; they preserve their chastity at all costs. (This invariably involves sequestering oneself in one’s room against the external threat of rape.)

Each of the above, in its own way, testifies to the Gothic preoccupation with human psychology. Wieland is particularly invested in phenomenology, and thus, its literary project is what Dorrit Cohn calls “narrative modes for presenting consciousness.” (As the 1822 preface to Brown’s unfinished sequel Memoirs of Carwin, the Biloquist, perceptively notes, “[u]nlike most other writers, [Brown’s] modes of thinking, the systems of ratiocination with which he invests his characters…” are “more the objects of our admiration or attention than the incidents or themes of his fictions.”) To this end, Wieland is far from alone among 18th-century novels in its appropriation of the language and concerns of Enlightenment philosophy (association of ideas, errors of the senses, reason vs. emotion, etc.).

The vehicle of the book’s detailed rendering of consciousness is a main character as first-person narrator⁠—not quite typical, as only one-third of the 18 novels on my Gothic list use this. It is, then, our narrator Clara Wieland’s—and not just the implied author’s—tacit foregrounding of her thoughts and feelings over events. In one example among many of Clara’s long internal monologues, it takes two pages between one concrete action (sitting down) and the next (going to her closet). In between, she wonders why her love interest failed to show up at a prearranged social engagement; invents two different possible reasons, one that causes her delight and the other, despair; accounts for why she seized upon those reasons; acknowledges her obsessive thinking as an unfortunate recent development in her character; meditates on the human condition, generally, and then her father’s fate, in particular; resolves to peruse a manuscript written by her father; and plans how to execute the resolution: which should come first, fetching the manuscript or preparing the lamp? (She goes for the book first, in the dark—spoiler alert, bad decision!).

Supplying these details draws out the scenes, serving a purpose of suspense. More importantly, it goes beyond merely narrating consciousness (achievable through third-person narration) in demonstrating how many people habitually narrativize our own lives and selves, often without realizing it. Clara recalls and retells events by retracing her thoughts and feelings about them, just as she filtered them through her thoughts and feelings when they were happening. She can’t escape this reflexive self-narrativization: “at such a crisis my thoughts might be supposed at no liberty to range; yet vague images rushed into my mind…”

Wieland advances psychological theories both through Clara’s stated beliefs and narrative demonstration. It seems to come down on the side of Hume, that reason serves the passions, as Clara repeatedly suffers unwise impulses and supplies the bad reasoning to talk herself into following them. At one point she expresses the belief that we can never understand the motives of others; yet, she seems almost as ignorant of her own motivations, listing various alternatives as she tries to assign them post hoc. She walks straight into closets containing probable murderers. She cannot even acknowledge that she is drawn to darkness and danger, much less explain why.

A gothic novel is not complete without a villain, but Wieland’s Carwin is more rounded than most. He confesses to bad things, but is not responsible—or at least, not fully nor intentionally responsible—for the dark climax, the hero Wieland’s murder of his own wife and children. Mischievous rather than evil, Carwin uses his talents for ventriloquism and mimicry to perplex people with unembodied, often seemingly supernatural voices. On almost every occasion when someone hears a voice of warning or command, or when the overheard voice of a friend sows misunderstanding and anger, it’s Carwin. But he did not, it seems, order Wieland to kill his family in order to prove his devotion to God (the story of Abraham and Isaac should come to mind). The voice of God was all in Wieland’s head. No one was ever in actual danger until Wieland’s descent into madness. The real villain is the human mind and its vulnerabilities.

Carwin’s role is more complex than villain, as he seems to embody the gothic tale writ large. Albeit minimally involved in its defining tragic event, he is the inadvertent engine of most of the plot. His gift is the easy solution to all mysteries. He confesses to “a rooted passion for scattering around me amazement and fear”; it is “for the sake of creating a mysterious dread,” he says, that “I have made myself a villain.” What could be more fundamental to the Gothic project than the scattering of amazement, fear, and a mysterious dread? Like Clara’s, Carwin’s motives are perplexing. He seems to enjoy arousing gothic emotions just to see how it affects people, and so, it seems, does the novel. We could see it was the ventriloquist, just because he felt like it as a lazy, anticlimactic, and improbable explanation of events, or as an insight into the genre and the human psychology.

In a shorter piece written three years after the close of these events, Clara reveals that she did not, as she predicted, die with the completion of her written account, but lived to find happiness again. She traveled for a change of scene and became curious about the world again (a central motivating force of the novel). She married the object of her affections, who, in a reversal of the traditional gender dynamic, has moved from admiration to reciprocating her love. Surprise, it’s actually a happy ending after all. Clara transcends generic expectations on two levels, existing outside the Gothic story and changing the ending.

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peppermint-studign · 6 years ago

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Hey Andrew, it’s your secret Santa again! 🎅🏻🎄 Thank you so much for asking, I am doing okay 💖 My semester ends in 3 weeks and I am sure that you know how hectic end of the semesters can be! And congrats to your brother!!! Let’s talk about you now 🎄 What kind of music do you like? And what are your interests other than school, what is your favorite book, tv series, movie, food, etc? Are you an extrovert or an introvert? I’d love to get to know you better! ☃️

First of all??? Your emoji’s are so Cute??? But yes, I hope you can power through the rest of your semester, you got this!!

To start off, I’m a big ol’ introvert. I like to Stay home and Recharge after school mostly, and I love to write. I’m pretty much writing like 24/7? And anything too, fiction, fanfiction, any genre I don’t really care, my mind is just always kinda going with ideas. I’m not too particular about my music, I like all kinds of stuff, am I partial to indie bands and 80s music? Yes. I also like Southern Gothic kind of songs. Y’know the songs that are all about women beating up cheating boyfriends, or getting guitar lessons from the devil at midnight. My music selection is a mess tho. One second it’ll be Radio Ga Ga by Queen, the next it’s The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie by Colter Wall, then its Lemon Boy by Cavetown. I’m A Mess when it comes to music.

My favorite book is boring bc it’s a non-fiction book that took me like,,,,three months to get through bc it’s depressing and full of medical terms, but it’s How To Survive a Plague by David France. My favorite TV series right now I would have to say is,,,,uh,,,,,man there are so many. I recently got into American Horror Story, and since I’m on break, and I’m on a binge watch of Law and Order SVU. I made it through the first season in under a week, I’m not even kidding. My favorite video game (bc that’s what I do to relax during school times :x) would have to be Far Cry 5. Or Detroit Become Human. Or Assassins Creed Odyssey. I have a lot of Thoughts on all of those games.

I hate deciding on my favorite food tho bc I feel like I’m betraying all the other good foods out there y’know? Like if I say, I love mashed potatoes, then what about spaghetti. Or what about shawarma. Or what about Portillo’s hot dogs?? WHO IS GOING TO DEFEND OMELETS AND TOAST!?!?

I’m passionate about food if you can’t tell.

Anyway, thanks secret santa!! I hope you are having a wonderful day! Tell me about about yourself too! Well, without giving yourself away I guess :p

#studyblrsecretsanta #a treasured frond #this turned into a long post #but y'all i guess this is a get to know me kinda day #Anonymous

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onewomancitadel · 3 years ago

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The term people are probably looking for is 'hate-to-love' in the context of general enemies to lovers misuse. That's not Darcy and Elizabeth, but it was something I was thinking about. (It's a simplification of Darcy and Elizabeth).

Even then I don't think the real key to 'hate-to-love' has been identified, which is that it's an easy reason for why they can't be together yet (the question you need to keep asking when you're writing a romance) and is easy to deliver upon dramatically.

This is where sometimes a real issue in media criticism is attributing something like hate to love to social issues, social commentary, expectations of women and men etc. etc. when at the heart of it what makes it so successful and easy to replicate in the worst romcom (and I'll expand on romcoms in a bit) is because it's just dramatically more interesting than friends-to-lovers and easier to deliver upon. The conflict is set. The character is set. The stage is set. Friends-to-lovers as a trope needs more work. It's not because women should set the bar low for men, or because women are conditioned to accept bad behaviour from men (when a story involves character reform anyway that's the fantasy, not the mean behaviour as such).

Romcoms are really a misrepresentation of what makes romance novels appealing though, and are kind of themselves somewhat of a different entity - I'm not as well-versed on this issue though, but I do know romcoms are somewhat of an artificial genre designed to cater to an invented demographic, but they are the usual suspect for the hate-to-love trope problems.

In fact, the way I sort of mentally think of most romcoms is just imitation of what the perceived romance genre is versus what it actually offers. I'm not wholly 'with' the romance genre, but I definitely understand it, and appreciate its conventions and expectations, and a critical issue in a lot of storytelling is just not understanding how to write romance... so the craft of it really interests me. But it says a lot about me that my favourite romance novel is also sort of a Gothic horror romance, and self-published at that.

Romcoms hit the familiar milestones of romance but often lack the soul. There are certainly exceptions, because I'm talking about a very wide genre which continued to evolve. 10 Things I Hate About You is very good; Bridget Jones' Diary misses everything good about Pride & Prejudice, and I wish Bridget ended up with the Mr. Wickham instead, because they would've been terrible and wonderful together.

Although my issue with the romance genre is often that the development of the relationship just happens too quickly for my tastes, and so that's why I tend to lean towards the hate-to-love spectrum of things, just because you get that protracted development and discovery. On the other hand, sometimes you get the hate-to-instantaneous love, which is something I equally dislike. I love romance, I'm just very picky.

The broader point I was working towards is that sometimes identifying why something is compelling doesn't need a social approach but a technical approach. This is why people are so mistaken about enemies to lovers. It's fun. It's ironic. It's dramatic. It's fantastic; I'm not sure why romance is so scrutinised compared to other consistently ridiculous things which happen in fiction, but compassion is boring and women are stupid, I guess.

Actually, I was remarking to Best Mate about the idea of characters 'deserving' redemption arcs (which I have gone on record of mocking and finding extremely stupid, because redemption is an active act, not passive) and she said that on the topic of what they deserve, the idea that everybody is deserving of something like compassion is ideal but it's also extremely difficult in practice to the point of being emotionally impossible to extend to everybody as well as uncomfortable for most people to contemplate. I said that's exactly why it feels like a superpower in the context of enemies to lovers, because it's that enormous philosophical demand.

I think I may have figured out one of the major reasons Elizabeth and Darcy's dynamic gets compared to or conflated with the enemies-to-lovers trope: because it involves the (poor) preconceptions of the other -> expectation reversal, in addition to intertwined character and moral development.

Beat for beat, that's what a lot of 'true' (bear with me here) ETL fans enjoy about the trope. The structural enmity is there to keep two fundamentally similar people apart but also they are two people who grow in response to the other. In the Elizabeth and Darcy dynamic, the barriers to their interactions are not enemy- or allegiance-based.

But you can see how that crosses over. Obviously I do think there's the element of people wanting the watered down ETL trope and just generally a misunderstanding of tropes contributing to things but I think this is the most interesting part, because I don't think the ETL trope is often articulated the way I'm describing it here (and where it mirrors Darcy/Elizabeth). The hatred is really accessory.

#nodding and agreeing with my reflection in the mirror #enemies to lovers

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ciathyzareposts · 5 years ago

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Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers

Fair warning: spoilers for Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers are to be found herein!

In 1989, a twenty-something professional computer programmer and frustrated horror novelist named Jane Jensen had a close encounter with King’s Quest IV that changed her life. She was so inspired by the experience of playing her first adventure game that she decided to apply for a job with Sierra Online, the company that had made it. In fact, she badgered them relentlessly until they finally hired her as a jack-of-all-trades writer in 1990.

Two and a half years later, after working her way up from writing manuals and incidental in-game dialog to co-designing the first EcoQuest game with Gano Haine and the sixth King’s Quest game with Roberta Williams, she had proved herself sufficiently in the eyes of her managers to be given a glorious opportunity: the chance to make her very own game on her own terms. It really was a once-in-a-lifetime proposition; she was to be given carte blanche by the biggest adventure developer in the industry at the height of the genre’s popularity to make exactly the game she wanted to make. Small wonder that she would so often look back upon it wistfully in later years, after the glory days of adventures games had become a distant memory.

For her big chance, Jensen proposed making a Gothic horror game unlike anything Sierra had attempted before, with a brooding and psychologically complex hero, a detailed real-world setting, and a complicated plot dripping with the lore of the occult. Interestingly, Jensen remembers her superiors being less than thrilled with the new direction. She says that Ken Williams in particular was highly skeptical of the project’s commercial viability: “Okay, I’ll let you do it, but I wish you’d come up with something happier!”

But even if Jensen’s recollections are correct, we can safely say that Sierra’s opinion changed over the year it took to make Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers. By the time it shipped on November 24, 1993, it fit in very well with a new direction being trumpeted by Ken Williams in his editorials for the company’s newsletter: a concerted focus on more “adult,” sophisticated fictions, as exemplified not only by Sins of the Fathers but by a “gritty” new Police Quest game and another, more lurid horror game which Roberta Williams had in the works. Although the older, more lighthearted and ramshackle [this, that, and the other] Quest series which had made Sierra’s name in adventure games would continue to appear for a while longer, Williams clearly saw these newer concepts as the key to a mass market he was desperately trying to unlock. Games like these were, theoretically anyway, able to appeal to demographics outside the industry’s traditional customers — to appeal to the sort of people who had hitherto preferred an evening in front of a television to one spent in front of a monitor.

Thus Sierra put a lot of resources into Sins of the Fathers‘s presentation and promotion. For example, the box became one of the last standout packages in an industry moving inexorably toward standardization on that front; in lieu of anything so dull as a rectangle, it took the shape of two mismatched but somehow conjoined triangles. Sierra even went so far as to hire Tim Curry of Rocky Horror Picture Show fame, Mark Hamill of Star Wars, and Michael Dorn of Star Trek: The Next Generation for the CD-ROM version’s voice-acting cast.

Jane Jensen with the first Gabriel Knight project’s producer and soundtrack composer Bob Holmes, who would later become her husband, and the actor Tim Curry, who provided the voice of Gabriel using a thick faux-New Orleans accent which some players judge hammy, others charming.

In the long run, the much-discussed union of Silicon Valley and Hollywood that led studios like Sierra to cast such high-profile names at considerable expense would never come to pass. In the meantime, though, the game arrived at a more modestly propitious cultural moment. Anne Rice’s Gothic vampire novels, whose tonal similarities to Sins of the Fathers were hard to miss even before Jensen began to cite them as an inspiration in interviews, were all over the bestseller lists, and Tom Cruise was soon to star in a major motion picture drawn from the first of them. Even in the broader world of games around Sierra, the influence of Rice and Gothic horror more generally was starting to make itself felt. On the tabletop, White Wolf’s Vampire: The Masquerade was exploding in popularity just as Dungeons & Dragons was falling on comparatively hard times; the early 1990s would go down in tabletop history as the only time when a rival system seriously challenged Dungeons & Dragons‘s absolute supremacy. And then there was the world of music, where dark and slinky albums from bands like the Cure and Massive Attack were selling in the millions.

Suffice to say, then, that “goth” culture in general was having a moment, and Sins of the Fathers was perfectly poised to capitalize on it. The times were certainly a far cry from just half a decade before, when Amy Briggs had proposed an Anne Rice-like horror game to her bosses at Infocom, only to be greeted with complete incomprehension.

Catching the zeitgeist paid off: Sins of the Fathers proved, if not quite the bridge to the Hollywood mainstream Ken Williams might have been longing for, one of Sierra’s most popular adventures games of its time. An unusual number of its fans were female, a demographic oddity it had in common with all of the other Gothic pop culture I’ve just mentioned. These female fans in particular seemed to get something from the game’s brooding bad-boy hero that they perhaps hadn’t realized they’d been missing. While games that used sex as a selling point were hardly unheard of in 1993, Sins of the Fathers stood out in a sea of Leisure Suit Larry and Spellcasting games for its orientation toward the female rather than the male gaze. In this respect as well, its arrival was perfectly timed, coming just as relatively more women and girls were beginning to use computers, thanks to the hype over multimedia computing that was fueling a boom in their sales.

But there was more to Sins of the Father‘s success than its arrival at an opportune moment. On the contrary: the game’s popularity has proved remarkably enduring over the decades since its release. It spawned two sequels later in the 1990s that are almost as adored as the first game, and still places regularly at or near the top of lists of “best adventure games of all time.” Then, too, it’s received an unusual amount of academic attention for a point-and-click graphic adventure in the traditional style (a genre which, lacking both the literary bona fides of textual interactive fiction and the innate ludological interest of more process-intensive genres, normally tends to get short shrift in such circles). You don’t have to search long in the academic literature to find painfully earnest grad-student essays contrasting the “numinous woman” Roberta Williams with the “millennium woman” Jane Jensen, or “exploring Gabriel as a particular instance of the Hero archetype.”

So, as a hit in its day and a hit still today with both the fans and the academics, Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers must be a pretty amazing game, right? Well… sure, in the eyes of some. For my own part, I see a lot of incongruities, not only in the game itself but in the ways it’s been received over the years. It strikes me as having been given the benefit of an awful lot of doubts, perhaps simply because there have been so very few games like it. Sins of the Fathers unquestionably represents a noble effort to stretch its medium. But is it truly a great game? And does its story really, as Sierra’s breathless press release put it back in the day, “rival the best film scripts?” Those are more complicated questions.

But before I begin to address them, we should have a look at what the game is all about, for those of you who haven’t yet had the pleasure of Gabriel Knights’s acquaintance.

Our titular hero, then, is a love-em-and-leave-em bachelor who looks a bit like James Dean and comes complete with a motorcycle, a leather jacket, and the requisite sensitive side concealed underneath his rough exterior. He lives in the backroom of the bookshop he owns in New Orleans, from which he churns out pulpy horror novels to supplement his paltry income. Grace Nakamura, a pert university student on her summer holidays, works at the bookshop as well, and also serves as Gabriel’s research assistant and verbal sparring partner, a role which comes complete with oodles of sexual tension.

Gabriel’s bedroom. What woman wouldn’t be excited to be brought back here?

Over the course of the game, Gabriel stumbles unto a centuries-old voodoo cult which has a special motivation to make him their latest human sacrifice. While he’s at it, he also falls into bed with the comely Malia, the somewhat reluctant leader of the cult. He learns amidst it all that not just voodoo spirits but many other things that go bump in the night — werewolves, vampires, etc. — are in fact real. And he learns that he’s inherited the mantle of Schattenjäger — “Shadow Hunter” — from his forefathers, and that his family’s legacy as battlers of evil stretches back to Medieval Germany. (The symbolism of his name is, as Jensen herself admits, not terribly subtle: “Gabriel” was the angel who battled Lucifer in Paradise Lost, while “Knight” means that he’s, well, a knight, at least in the metaphorical sense.) After ten days jam-packed with activity, which take him not only all around New Orleans but to Germany and Benin as well — Sins of the Fathers is a very generous game indeed in terms of length — Gabriel must choose between his love for Malia and his new role of Schattenjäger. Grace is around throughout: to serve as the good-girl contrast to the sultry Malia (again, the symbolism of her name isn’t subtle), to provide banter and research, and to pull Gabriel’s ass bodily out of the fire at least once. If Gabriel makes the right choice at the end of the game, the two forge a tentative partnership to continue the struggle against darkness even as they also continue to deny their true feelings for one another.

As we delve into what the game does well and poorly amidst all this, it strikes me as useful to break the whole edifice down along the classic divide of its interactivity versus its fiction. (If you’re feeling academic, you can refer to this dichotomy as its ludological versus its narratological components; if you’re feeling folksy, you can call it its crossword versus its narrative.) Even many of the game’s biggest fans will admit that the first item in the pairing has its problematic aspects. So, perhaps we should start there rather than diving straight into some really controversial areas. That said, be warned that the two things are hard to entirely separate from one another; Sins of the Fathers works best when the two are in harmony, while many of its problems come to the fore when the two begin to clash.

Let’s begin, though, with the things Sins of the Fathers gets right in terms of design. While I don’t know that it is, strictly speaking, impossible to lock yourself out of victory while still being able to play on, you certainly would have to be either quite negligent or quite determined to manage it at any stage before the endgame. This alone shows welcome progress for Sierra — shows that the design revolution wrought by LucasArts’s The Secret of Monkey Island was finally penetrating even this most stalwart redoubt of the old, bad way of making adventure games.

Snarking aside, we shouldn’t dismiss Jensen’s achievement here; it’s not easy to make such an intricately plot-driven game so forgiving. The best weapon in her arsenal is the use of an event-driven rather than a clock-driven timetable for advancing the plot. Each of the ten days has a set of tasks you must accomplish before the day ends, although you aren’t explicitly told what they are. You have an infinite amount of clock time to accomplish these things at your own pace. When you eventually do so — and even sometimes when you accomplish intermediate things inside each day — the plot machinery lurches forward another step or two via an expository cut scene and the interactive world around you changes to reflect it. Sins of the Fathers was by no means the first game to employ such a system; as far as I know, that honor should go to Infocom’s 1986 text adventure Ballyhoo. Yet this game uses it to better effect than just about any game that came before it. In fact, the game as a whole is really made tenable only by this technique of making the plot respond to the player’s actions rather than forcing the player to race along at the plot’s pace; the latter would be an unimaginable nightmare to grapple with in a story with this many moving parts. When it works well, which is a fair amount of the time, the plot progression feels natural and organic, like you truly are in the grip of a naturally unfolding story.

The individual puzzles that live within this framework work best when they’re in harmony with the plot and free of typical adventure-game goofiness. A good example is the multi-layered puzzle involving the Haitian rada drummers whom you keep seeing around New Orleans. Eventually, a victim of the voodoo cult tells you just before he breathes his last that the drummers are the cult’s means of communicating with one another across the city. So, you ask Grace to research the topic of rada drums. Next day, she produces a book on the subject filled with sequences encoding various words and phrases. When you “use” this book on one of the drummers, it brings up a sort of worksheet which you can use to figure out what he’s transmitting. Get it right, and you learn that a conclave is to be held that very night in a swamp outside the city.

Working out a rada-drum message.

This is an ideal puzzle: complicated but not insurmountable, immensely satisfying to solve. Best of all, solving it really does make you feel like Gabriel Knight, on the trail of a mystery which you must unravel using your own wits and whatever information you can dig up from the resources at your disposal.

Unfortunately, not all or even most of the puzzles live up to that standard. A handful are simply bad puzzles, full stop, testimonies both to the fact that every puzzle is always harder than its designer thinks it is and to Sierra’s disinterest in seeking substantive feedback on its games from actual players before releasing them. For instance, there’s the clock/lock that expects you to intuit the correct combination of rotating face and hands from a few scattered, tangential references elsewhere in the game to the number three and to dragons.

Even the rather brilliant rada-drums bit goes badly off the rails at the end of the game, when you’re suddenly expected to use a handy set of the drums to send a message of your own. This requires that you first read Jane Jensen’s mind to figure out what general message out of the dozens of possibilities she wants you to send, then read her mind again to figure out the exact grammar she wants you to use. When you get it wrong, as you inevitably will many times, the game gives you no feedback whatsoever. Are you doing the wrong thing entirely? Do you have the right idea but are sending the wrong message? Or do you just need to change up your grammar a bit? The game isn’t telling; it’s too busy killing you on every third failed attempt.

Other annoyances are the product not so much of poor puzzle as poor interface design. In contrast to contemporaneous efforts from competitors like LucasArts and Legend Entertainment, Sierra games made during this period still don’t show hot spots ripe for interaction when you mouse over a scene. So, you’re forced to click on everything indiscriminately, which most of the time leads only to the narrator intoning the same general room description over and over in her languid Caribbean patois. The scenes themselves are well-drawn, but their muted colors, combined with their relatively low resolution and the lack of a hot-spot finder, constitute something of a perfect storm for that greatest bane of the graphic adventure, the pixel hunt. One particularly egregious example of the syndrome, a snake scale you need to find at a crime scene on a beach next to Lake Pontchartrain, has become notorious as an impediment that stops absolutely every player in her tracks. It reveals the dark flip side of the game’s approach to plot chronology: that sinking feeling when the day just won’t end and you don’t know why. In this case, it’s because you missed a handful of slightly discolored pixels surrounded by a mass of similar hues — or, even if you did notice them, because you failed to click on them exactly.

You have to click right where the cursor is to learn from the narrator that “the grass has a matted appearance there.” Break out the magnifying glass!

But failings like these aren’t ultimately the most interesting to talk about, just because they were so typical and so correctable, had Sierra just instituted a set of commonsense practices that would have allowed them to make better games. Much more interesting are the places that the interactivity of Sins of the Fathers clashes jarringly with the premise of its fiction. For it’s here, we might speculate, that the game is running into more intractable problems — perhaps even running headlong into the formal limitation of the traditional graphic adventure as a storytelling medium.

Take, for example, the point early in the game when Gabriel wants to pay a visit to Malia at her palatial mansion, but, as a mere civilian, can’t get past the butler. Luckily, he happens to have a pal at the police department — in fact, his best friend in the whole world, an old college buddy named Mosley. Does he explain his dilemma to Mosley and ask for help? Of course not! This is, after all, an adventure game. He decides instead to steal Mosley’s badge. When he pays the poor fellow a visit at his office, he sees that Mosley’s badge is pinned, as usual, to his jacket. So, Gabriel sneaks over to turn up the thermostat in the office, which causes Mosley to remove the jacket and hang it over the back of his chair. Then Gabriel asks him to fetch a cup of coffee, and completes the theft while he’s out of the room. With friends like that…

Gabriel is turned away from Malia’s door…

…but no worries, he can just figure out how to steal a badge from his best friend and get inside that way.

In strictly mechanical terms, this is actually a clever puzzle, but it illustrates the tonal and thematic inconsistencies that dog the game as a whole. Sadly, puzzles like the one involving the rada drums are the exception rather than the rule. Most of the time, you’re dealing instead with arbitrary roadblocks like this one that have nothing whatsoever to do with the mystery you’re trying to solve. It becomes painfully obvious that Jensen wrote out a static story outline suitable for a movie or novel, then went back to devise the disconnected puzzles that would make a game out of it.

But puzzles like this are not only irrelevant: they’re deeply, comprehensively silly, and this silliness flies in the face of Sins of the Fathers‘s billing as a more serious, character-driven sort of experience than anything Sierra had done to date. Really, how can anyone take a character who goes around doing stuff like this seriously? You can do so, I would submit, only by mentally bifurcating the Gabriel you control in the interactive sequences from the Gabriel of the cut scenes and conversations. That may work for some — it must, given the love that’s lavished on this game by so many adventure fans — but the end result nevertheless remains creatively compromised, two halves of a work of art actively pulling against one another.

Gabriel sneaks into the backroom of a church and starts stealing from the priests. That’s normal behavior for any moodily romantic protagonist, right? Right?

It’s at points of tension like these that Sins of the Fathers raises the most interesting and perhaps troubling questions about the graphic adventure as a genre. Many of its puzzles are, as I already noted, not bad puzzles in themselves; they’re only problematic when placed in this fictional context. If Sins of the Fathers was a comedy, they’d be a perfectly natural fit. This is what I mean when I say, as I have repeatedly in the past, that comedy exerts a strong centrifugal pull on any traditional puzzle-solving adventure game. And this is why most of Sierra’s games prior to Sins of the Fathers were more or less interactive cartoons, why LucasArts strayed afield from that comfortable approach even less often than Sierra, and, indeed, why comedies have been so dominant in the annals of adventure games in general.

The question must be, then, whether the pull of comedy can be resisted — whether compromised hybrids like this one are the necessary end result of trying to make a serious graphic adventure. In short, is the path of least resistance the only viable path for an adventure designer?

For my part, I believe the genre’s tendency to collapse into comedy can be resisted, if the designer is both knowing and careful. The Lost Files of Sherlock Holmes, released the year before Sins of the Fathers, is a less heralded game than the one I write about today, but one which works better as a whole in my opinion, largely because it sticks to its guns and remains the type of fiction it advertises itself to be, eschewing goofy roadblock puzzles in favor of letting you solve the mystery at its heart. By contrast, you don’t really solve the mystery for yourself at all in Sins of the Fathers; it solves the mystery for you while you’re jumping Gabriel through all the irrelevant hoops it sets in his path.

But let’s try to set those issues aside now and engage with Sins of the Fathers strictly in terms of the fiction that lives outside the lines of its interactivity. As many of you doubtless know, I’m normally somewhat loathe to do that; it verges on a tautology to say that interactivity is the defining feature of games, and thus it seems to me that any given game’s interactivity has to work, without any qualifiers, as a necessary precondition to its being a good game. Still, if any game might be able to sneak around that rule, it ought to be this one, so often heralded as a foremost exemplar of sophisticated storytelling in a ludic context. And, indeed, it does fare better on this front in my eyes — not quite as well as some of its biggest fans claim, but better.

The first real scene of Sins of the Fathers tells us we’re in for an unusual adventure-game experience, with unusual ambitions in terms of character and plot development alike. We meet Gabriel and Grace in medias res, as the former stumbles out of his backroom bedroom to meet the latter already at her post behind the cash register in the bookstore. Over the next couple of minutes, we learn much about them as people through their banter — and, tellingly, pretty much nothing about what the real plot of the game will come to entail. This is Bilbo holding his long-expected party, Wart going out to make hay; Jane Jensen is settling in to work the long game.

https://www.filfre.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/GK.mp4

As Jensen slowly pulls back the curtain on what the game is really all about over the hours that follow, she takes Gabriel through that greatest rarity in interactive storytelling, a genuine internal character arc. The Gabriel at the end of the game, in other words, is not the one we met at the beginning, and for once the difference isn’t down to his hit points or armor class. If we can complain that we’re mostly relegated to solving goofy puzzles while said character arc plays out in the cut scenes, we can also acknowledge how remarkable it is for existing at all.

Jensen is a talented writer with a particular affinity for just the sort of snappy but revealing dialog that marks that first scene of the game. If anything, she’s better at writing these sorts of low-key “hang-out” moments than the scenes of epic confrontation. It’s refreshing to see a game with such a sense of ease about its smaller moments, given that the talents and interests of most game writers tend to run in just the opposite direction.

Then, too, Jensen has an intuitive understanding of the rhythm of effective horror. As any master of the form from Stephen King to the Duffer Brothers will happily tell you if you ask them, you can’t assault your audience with wall-to-wall terror. Good horror is rather about tension and release — the horrific crescendos fading into moments of calm and even levity, during which the audience has a chance to catch its collective breath and the knots in their stomachs have a chance to un-clench. Certainly we have to learn to know and like a story’s characters before we can feel vicarious horror at their being placed in harm’s way. Jensen understands all these things, as do the people working with her.

Indeed, the production values of Sins of the Fathers are uniformly excellent in the context of its times. The moody art perfectly complements the story Jensen has scripted, and the voice-acting cast — both the big names who head it and the smaller ones who fill out the rest of the roles — are, with only one or two exceptions, solid. The music, which was provided by the project’s producer Robert Holmes — he began dating Jensen while the game was in production, and later became her husband and constant creative partner — is catchy, memorable, and very good at setting the mood, if perhaps not hugely New Orleans in flavor. (More on that issue momentarily.)

Still, there are some significant issues with Sins of the Fathers even when it’s being judged purely as we might a work of static fiction. Many of these become apparent only gradually over time — this is definitely a game that puts its best foot forward first — but at least one of them is front and center from the very first scene. To say that much of Gabriel’s treatment of Grace hasn’t aged well hardly begins to state the case. Their scenes together often play like a public-service video from the #MeToo movement, as Gabriel sexually harasses his employee like Donald Trump with a fresh bottle of Viagra in his back pocket. Of course, Jensen really intends for Gabriel to be another instance of the archetypal charming rogue — see Solo, Han, and Jones, Indiana — and sometimes she manages to pull it off. At far too many others, though, the writing gets a little sideways, and the charming rogue veers into straight-up jerk territory. The fact that Grace is written as a smart, tough-minded young woman who can give as good as she gets doesn’t make him seem like any less of a sleazy creep, more Leisure Suit Larry than James Dean.

I’m puzzled and just a little bemused that so many academic writers who’ve taken it upon themselves to analyze the game from an explicitly feminist perspective can ignore this aspect of it entirely. I can’t help but suspect that, were Sins of the Fathers the product of a male designer, the critical dialog that surrounds it would be markedly different in some respects. I’ll leave it to you to decide whether this double standard is justified or not in light of our culture’s long history of gender inequality.

As the game continues, the writing starts to wear thin in other ways. Gabriel’s supposed torrid love affair with Malia is, to say the least, unconvincing, with none of the naturalism that marks the best of his interactions with Grace. Instead it’s in the lazy mold of too many formulaic mass-media fictions, where two attractive people fall madly in love for no discernible reason that we can identify. The writer simply tells us that they do so, by way of justifying an obligatory sex scene or two. Here, though, we don’t even get the sex scene.

Pacing also starts to become a significant problem as the game wears on. Admittedly, this is not always so much because the writer in Jane Jensen isn’t aware of its importance to effective horror as because pacing in general is just so darn difficult to control in any interactive work, especially one filled with road-blocking puzzles like this one. Even if we cut Jensen some slack on this front, however, sequences like Gabriel’s visit to Tulane University, where he’s subjected to a long non-interactive lecture that might as well be entitled “Everything Jane Jensen Learned about Voodoo but Can’t Shoehorn in Anywhere Else,” are evidence of a still fairly inexperienced writer who doesn’t have a complete handle on this essential element of storytelling and doesn’t have anyone looking over her shoulder to edit her work. She’s done her research, but hasn’t mastered the Zen-like art of letting it subtly inform her story and setting. Instead she infodumps it all over us in about the most unimaginative way you can conceive: in the form of a literal classroom lecture.

Gabriel with Professor Infodump.

The game’s depiction of New Orleans itself reveals some of the same weaknesses. Yes, Jensen gets the landmarks and the basic geography right. But I have to say, speaking as someone who loves the city dearly and has spent a fair amount of time there over the years, that the setting of the game never really feels like New Orleans. What’s missing most of all, I think, is any affinity for the music that so informs daily life in the city, giving the streets a (literal) rhythm unlike anywhere else on earth. (Robert Holmes’s soundtrack is fine and evocative in its own right; it’s just not a New Orleans soundtrack.) I was thus unsurprised to learn that Jensen never actually visited New Orleans before writing and publishing a game set there. Tellingly, her depiction has more to do with the idiosyncratic, Gothic New Orleans found in Anne Rice novels than it does with the city I know.

The plotting too gets more wobbly as time goes on. A linchpin moment comes right at the mid-point of the ten days, when Gabriel makes an ill-advised visit to one of the cult’s conclaves — in fact, the one he located via the afore-described rada-drums puzzle — and nearly gets himself killed. Somehow Grace, of all people, swoops in to rescue him; I still have no idea precisely what is supposed to have happened here, and neither, judging at least from the fan sites I’ve consulted, does anyone else. I suspect that something got cut here out of budget concerns, so perhaps it’s unfair to place this massive non sequitur at the heart of the game squarely on Jensen’s shoulders.

But other problems with the plotting aren’t as easy to find excuses for. There is, for example, the way that Gabriel can fly from New Orleans to Munich and still have hours of daylight at his disposal when he arrives on the same day. (I could dismiss this as a mere hole in Jensen’s research, the product of an American designer unfamiliar with international travel, if she hadn’t spent almost a year living in Germany prior to coming to Sierra.) In fact, the entirety of Gabriel’s whirlwind trip from the United States to Germany to Benin and back home again feels incomplete and a little half-baked, from its cartoonish German castle, which resembles a piece of discarded art from a King’s Quest game, to its tedious maze inside an uninteresting African burial mound that likewise could have been found in any of a thousand other adventure games. Jensen would have done better to keep the action in New Orleans rather than suddenly trying to turn the game into a globetrotting adventure at the eleventh hour, destroying its narrative cohesion in the process.

Suddenly we’re in… Africa? How the hell did that happen?

As in a lot of fictions of this nature, the mysteries at the heart of Sins of the Fathers are also most enticing in the game’s earlier stages than they have become by its end. To her credit, Jensen knows exactly what truths lie behind all of the mysteries and deceptions, and she’s willing to show them to us; Sins of the Fathers does have a payoff. Nevertheless, it’s all starting to feel a little banal by the time we arrive at the big climax inside the voodoo cult’s antiseptic high-tech headquarters. It’s easier to be scared of shadowy spirits of evil from the distant past than it is of voodoo bureaucrats flashing their key cards in a complex that smacks of a Bond villain’s secret hideaway.

The tribal art on the wall lets you know this is a voodoo cult’s headquarters. Somehow I never expected elevators and florescent lighting in such a place…

Many of you — especially those of you who count yourselves big fans of Sins of the Fathers — are doubtless saying by now that I’m being much, much too hard on it. And you have a point; I am holding this game’s fiction to a higher standard than I do that of most adventure games. In a sense, though, the game’s very conception of itself makes it hard for a critic to avoid doing so. It so clearly wants to be a more subtle, more narratively and thematically rich, more “adult” adventure game that I feel forced to take it at its word and hold it to that higher standard. One could say, then, that the game becomes a victim of its own towering ambitions. Certainly all my niggling criticisms shouldn’t obscure the fact that, for all that its reach does often exceed its grasp, it’s brave of the game to stretch itself so far at all.

That said, I can’t help but continue to see Sins of the Fathers more as a noble failure than a masterpiece, and I can’t keep myself from placing much of the blame at the feet of Sierra rather than Jane Jensen per se. I played it most recently with my wife, as I do many of the games I write about here. She brings a valuable perspective because she’s much, much smarter than I am but couldn’t care less about where, when, or whom the games we play came from; they’re strictly entertainments for her. At some point in the midst of playing Sins of the Fathers, she turned to me and remarked, “This would probably have been a really good game if it had been made by that other company.”

I could tell I was going to have to dig a bit to ferret out her meaning: “What other company?”

“You know, the one that made that time-travel game we played with the really nerdy guy and that twitchy girl, and the one about the dog and the bunny. I think they would have made sure everything just… worked better. You know, fixed all of the really irritating stuff, and made sure we didn’t have to look at a walkthrough all the time.”

That “other company” was, of course, LucasArts.

One part of Sins of the Fathers in particular reminds me of the differences between the two companies. There comes a point where Gabriel has to disguise himself as a priest, using a frock stolen from St. Louis Cathedral and some hair gel from his own boudoir, in order to bilk an old woman out of her knowledge of voodoo. This is, needless to say, another example of the dissonance between the game’s serious plot and goofy puzzles, but we’ve covered that ground already. What’s more relevant right now is the game’s implementation of the sequence. Every time you visit the old woman — which will likely be several times if you aren’t playing from a walkthrough — you have to laboriously prepare Gabriel’s disguise all over again. It’s tedium that exists for no good reason; you’ve solved the puzzle once, and the game ought to know you’ve solved it, so why can’t you just get on with things? I can’t imagine a LucasArts game subjecting me to this. In fact, I know it wouldn’t: there’s a similar situation in Day of the Tentacle, where, sure enough, the game whips through the necessary steps for you every time after the first.

Father Gabriel. (Sins of the fathers indeed, eh?)

This may seem a small, perhaps even petty example, but, multiplied by a hundred or a thousand, it describes why Sierra adventures — even their better, more thoughtful efforts like this one — so often wound up more grating than fun. Sins of the Fathers isn’t a bad adventure game, but it could have been so much better if Jensen had had a team around her armed with the development methodologies and testing processes that could have eliminated its pixel hunts, cleaned up its unfair and/or ill-fitting puzzles, told her when Gabriel was starting to sound more like a sexual predator than a laid-back lady’s man, and smoothed out the rough patches in its plot. None of the criticisms I’ve made of the game should be taken as a slam against Jensen, a writer with special gifts in exactly those areas where other games tend to disappoint. She just didn’t get the support she needed to reach her full potential here.

The bitter irony of it all is that LucasArts, a company that could have made Sins of the Fathers truly great, lacked the ambition to try anything like it in lieu of the cartoon comedies which they knew worked for them; meanwhile Sierra, a company with ambition in spades, lacked the necessary commitment to detail and quality. I really don’t believe, in other words, that Sins of the Father represents some limit case for the point-and-click adventure as a storytelling medium. I think merely that it represents, like all games, a grab bag of design choices, some of them more felicitous than others.

Still, if what we ended up with is the very definition of a mixed bag, it’s nevertheless one of the most interesting and important such in the history of adventure games, a game whose influence on what came later, both inside and outside of its genre, has been undeniable. I know that when I made The King of Shreds and Patches, my own attempt at a lengthy horror adventure with a serious plot, Sins of the Fathers was my most important single ludic influence, providing a bevy of useful examples both of what to do and what not to do. (For instance, I copied its trigger-driven approach to plot chronology — but I made sure to include a journal to tell the player what issues she should be working on at any given time, thereby to keep her from wandering endlessly looking for the random whatsit that would advance the time.) I know that many other designers of much more prominent games than mine have also taken much away from Sins of the Fathers.

So, should you play Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers? Absolutely. It’s a fascinating example of storytelling ambition in games, and, both in where it works and where it fails, an instructive study in design as well. A recent remake helmed by Jane Jensen herself even fixes some of the worst design flaws, although not without considerable trade-offs: the all-star cast of the original game has been replaced with less distinctive voice acting, and the new graphics, while cleaner and sharper, don’t have quite the same moody character as the old. Plague or cholera; that does seem to be the way with adventure games much of the time, doesn’t it? With this game, one might say, even more so than most of them.

The big climax. Yes, it does look a little ridiculous — but hey, they were trying.

(Sources: the book Influential Game Designers: Jane Jensen by Anastasia Salter; Sierra’s newsletter InterAction of Spring 1992, Summer 1993, and Holiday 1993; Computer Gaming World of November 1993 and March 1994. Online sources include “The Making of… The Gabriel Knight Trilogy” from Edge Online; an interview with Jane Jensen done by the old webzine The Inventory, now archived at The Gabriel Knight Pages; “Happy Birthday, Gabriel Knight“ from USgamer; Jane Jensen’s “Ask Me Anything” on Reddit. Academic pieces include “Revisiting Gabriel Knight” by Connie Veugen from The Heidelberg Journal of Religions on the Internet Volume 7; Jane Jensen’s Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers: The Numinous Woman and the Millennium Woman” by Roberta Sabbath from The Journal of Popular Culture Volume 31 Issue 1. And, last but not least, press releases, annual reports, and other internal and external documents from the Sierra archive at the Strong Museum of Play.

Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers is available for purchase both in its original version and as an enhanced modern remake.)

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/gabriel-knight-sins-of-the-fathers/

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greyelven · 8 years ago

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Fandom 5k Letter

Dear Writer,

To begin with, thank you for writing for me! I really appreciate the time and effort, especially for this exchange, and I want to emphasise that I’m going to love whatever you come up with, so write what you want to write and don’t stress about it. All I ever really want from exchanges is more fic about my favourite characters so I’m very easy to please. The genre tags I’ve picked are probably bordering on the excessive but that’s just me liking a lot of different things. As always, prompts are just there if you need a little inspiration, if you already have your own idea then go for it. My previous letters can be found here; I’ve recycled a lot of old prompts in this letter but you’re welcome to draw on any I haven’t as well.

Likes – AU settings (modern, steampunk, sci-fi etc, go wild!), canon divergence AUs, grey morality, gothic vibes, fantasy elements (creepy fairies, enchantments etc), character studies, backstory, banter, road trips, found family, femslash, ladies working together, ladies kicking ass (literally or figuratively)

Dislikes – torture, depictions of rape/dubcon/sexual assault (implied/discussed is fine), pregnancy, homophobia

Ghostbusters

Erin/Holtzmann, Abby & Erin & Holtzmann & Patty

This movie was such an unexpected delight and I just want more of these ladies, kicking spectral ass and being friends and not giving a damn about what anyone else thinks of them. I loved the light tone of the movie but I also love creepy ghost stories so feel free to take these prompts in any direction.

-what’s one of their most memorable busts? Are there any particularly scary or irritating ghosts? Do they ever go beyond New York? Perhaps to investigate a ghost town, or abandoned buildings in the middle of nowhere…

-how does their ghost research progress after the events of the movie? Any big scientific breakthroughs? Do they find out more about the world through the portal? Any big mishaps that lead to more ghosts rather than less? I wouldn’t be surprised if Holtz’s unstable equipment malfunctioned somehow

-the team hanging out in their downtime (movie nights, celebrating each other’s birthdays, Patty taking them to interesting historical sites around the city…)

-there are a lot of genre AUs I’d love to see for this fandom but the first ones that spring to mind are Victorian gothic (ghost hunting would fit so perfectly) and cosmic horror (what creatures live on the other side of the portal?)

All of those could have an Erin/Holtz bent but for some more specifically shippy prompts:

-everyday moments between the two of them, slowly getting closer the longer they work together - cleaning off slime after a tough bust, late nights at the lab, long uneventful stakeouts of ghosts that may or may not be there

-established relationship moments - lazy mornings, date nights (bound to be some odd ones with Holtzmann around), culinary adventures, trips away together

-I’m dying for a San Junipero au of these two, if you’ve seen it (if you haven’t, it’s a standalone piece and a really lovely story - Black Mirror season 3, episode 4)

HTGAWM

Annalise/Bonnie

I’m not caught up on the second half of season 3 but I will be soon, though tbh I’m here for character dynamics - there are so many freaking plot twists I’ve forgotten much of what happened earlier in the show anyway. What I love about this pairing is how complicated and co-dependent it is; their personal relationship and working relationship bleed into one another, it’s messy as hell and it’s never not going to be like that.

In the meantime, shameless copying and pasting of prompts from the last exchange I did, with a few new ideas:

- they finally kissed and then the freaking house burned down, so maybe a quiet moment between those things happening when Annalise is wide awake and sober (seriously that whole situation was so ficcy, with Bonnie taking care of her – might as well mine it to its full potential)

- I like how effective a team they are as lawyers and the contrast with their complex messy personal relationship, so like, maybe casefic with a side of dysfunction

- backstory! all the backstory! good moments, bad moments, just anything exploring how their relationship came to be as it is

-assuming Bonnie gets Annalise out of jail, how does their relationship change going forward?

-in terms of genre shift, I would love a political au - Annalise runs for office, or maybe she’s a career politician, with Bonnie as her right-hand woman (of course), and they take a similar approach as they do to law - occasional good intentions, regularly dirty methods, a string of bodies in their wake

Rogue One

Jyn/Leia, Jyn & Leia

All I want from Star Wars is a proper relationship between two women and it has yet to materialise. So give me Jyn and Leia as friends, girlfriends, reluctant allies, whatever, as long as they’re interacting. They’re from very different backgrounds - polished princess and petty criminal - but they’ve both been trained for rebellion from a young age, and if they met around the time of A New Hope, they’d both be grappling with loss; there’s a lot of potential to mine.

-they’re sent on a mission together at some point during the war - how well do they function as a team? Who’s in charge? How does the other deal with that?

-Jyn surviving Scarif and standing beside Leia when the Death Star gets destroyed - what does it mean for each of them? What would Jyn’s involvement in the rebellion be like going forward?

-building on that, what would Jyn do if she were still alive during the Force Awakens? Would Leia turn to an old friend/old flame for support after losing Han?

-college au, where they’re both involved in student activism but have very different methods of getting shit done (Leia working from within the institution, getting elected to various student offices and delivering impassioned speeches at committee meetings, while Jyn goes for more subversive tactics)

Wolf 359

Lovelace, Minkowski, Lovelace/Minkowski, Eiffel & Minkowski

My new favourite thing! I started listening about a month ago and was immediately hooked. I love the show’s effortless switching between humour and much darker material, the insular character dynamics set against the big empty galaxy, and the bleak underlying scenario of being stuck on a spaceship that’s falling apart while nobody on Earth really seems to care.

I requested my favourite characters and combinations of characters but I like Hera and Hilbert too and most of the prompts could apply to the Hephaestus crew as a whole, so if you want to take more of a group approach that’s totally cool. What I’m really interested in is how the characters function and develop meaningful relationships under the circumstances.

(I’m less a fan of the SI-5 team; the angle I’m interested in there is the disruption they present for the original crew , so if you want to include them in that capacity, go ahead. Also, feel free to ignore the whole Lovelace = alien thing cos that’s mostly what I’ve been doing.)

Prompts!

-if the crew do make it back to Earth, what then? Do they stay in touch or drift apart? Is it difficult to re-adjust to ‘normal’ life? Or for a lighter approach, the crew indulging in all the things they’ve missed most about Earth

-wacky space shenanigans! The first time Minkowski brought out the jetpack and Eiffel got excited, an experiment of Hilbert’s going wrong and everyone helping with damage control, ways Eiffel has attempted to alleviate his boredom...

-exploring pre-canon - the characters’ first weeks of life in space and how it was the same/different from what they thought it would be, moments where characters realised their first impressions of each other weren’t quite accurate, etc

The X-Files

-what I’m really after here is casefic, weird happenings with a side of Mulder & Scully banter. One of my favourite things about the show is how many genres it managed to incorporate so effortlessly, sci-fi/horror/thriller etc, and I love the monster of the week episodes that their own distinctive feel - the claustrophobia of Ice or the melancholy of the Field Where I Died. Some of my favourite X-Files tropes are small creepy towns, isolated mountain forests and strange lights in the sky, if that helps :)

-I’m not a huge fan of the revival - I think it was a missed opportunity, because it was a) a mess and b) didn’t really use aspects of the 2010s that make the show still relevant today - government spying, distrust of authority, etc. So a modern au done right would be really nice.

-the show’s pretty noir-ish already but I would love a full-blown noir au, Scully as the straight-laced detective who gets reluctantly entangled in her partner’s wild goose chase

-or complete opposite direction, take out the aliens and have Mulder & Scully as office co-workers

#fic exchange

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