#but as a child all the comedy elements were a lot harder to catch

[superfamiblog]

Hi there, I like your blog. What is the scariest/creepiest cutscene you've ever seen in an 8/16-bit video game?

There's no objective answer to this sort of question, but for 7-year-old me, there was no scene scarier than the one where the zombies kidnap you in Earthbound.

[blastoisemonster]

Kodomo No Omocha’s Sticker Album Highlights (Merlin, 2001, Italian)

Let's keep talking about retro japanese cartoons, shall we? I've done some posts lately in which I reviewed Game Boy games based on comics or animations from Japan, with the intention of covering series that I either used to watch as a kid or recall being popular during the GB and GBC eras. A lot of these games have never been released outside Japan, so it's also an occasion to gather up some imports and see what Italy has missed on. There's actually a particular cartoon I wanted to talk about since the start of this research, but unfortunately it seems it has never recieved any videogame adaptation. But hey, this is my blog, and I can talk about whatever I want! >:C Also I suddenly remembered my Fandom tag has been created purposely for non-gaming objects. >.> So, let's look at some stickers while I tell you the tale of Rossana.

Rossana can be best described as the soap opera that spawned a second wave of nipponic hysteria among every single italian person under 20 during the very last period of the 90s. It's like The Bold And The Beautiful looked at Pokèmon and said "yeah, I want something like that.". Its popularity hit even harder my personal view of the world as the plot starts with the protagonists attending the last year of elementary school... which is exactly what me and my friends were doing, multiplying the relatable factor tenfold. This cartoon took everyone by their necks since its first episode: it was broadcasted on what was, at the time, the best and most popular italian channel for children entertainment, and heavily advertised before starting, so we knew exactly when to tune in to catch it. The day after the first episode, school looked like a different place. Everyone in class was chanting the opening at the top of their lungs; boys were acting like the male protagonists, all girls mimicked the main role Rossana, the more artisticly inclined ones started doodling the characters anywhere possible, including textbooks and homework. Teachers were in tears. I had watched the first episode and found it amusing enough to keep me entertained, so for some period I fully partecipated in the general enjoyment of the cartoon. Then, I started missing episodes (when you missed something on TV during the 90s... it was gone!) and upon returning to it, I found the plot had become much more complex and centered on sentimental intrigues, of which I never gave a toss about, so I jumped off the hype train while others still followed it until the end.

As it is usual for these productions, Rossana was another anime based on a manga series; the original work is titled "Kodomo No Omocha" (which literally means "Children's Plaything"... yeah, I too find it a tad creepy), drawn by mangaka Miho Obana and serialized by Ribon from 1994 to 1998. It tells the story of Rossana Kurata, a child actress (an idol in the original story) trying to balance her career with a normal kid's life by going to school and having normal friends: however, her class is anything but normal and she finds herself often fighting against the biggest bully of the school group, Hayama (translated as Heric in italian). As the story progresses, though, Sana understands Heric's complex and at times completely inappropriate attitude is a result of a troubled childhood, having lost his mother at birth and being bullied by his older sister and completely ignored by his father. Willing to help him out, Sana befriends him and starts to develop even deeper feelings, also sharing her own troubled past: she had been actually abandoned as a newborn and adopted by Misako, a famous writer. New characters are introduced along the way, among which the child actor Charles, Sana's schoolmate but also colleague which the girl will work alongside during a trip to the States, and Funny, an extremely extroverted kid that will at first become close friends with Sana, but that will, at some point, steal Heric's heart, leaving Sana to deal with heartbreak and jealousy. Despite the story being drawn in an energetic shojo style and the episodes showing many hysterical/demential jokes along the way, Kodomo No Omocha is a dramatic story centered on overcoming past secrets, venomous feelings, and describing the difficult shift from childhood to adolescence.

The original 10 manga volumes got adapted for animation in 102 episodes, which broadcasted on TV Tokyo from 1996 to 1998. In Italy, the anime got imported first with the direct title "Rossana": it was aired in its entirety during all of the year 2000, and yes, all the 102 episodes got translated! Unfortunately, the channel wanted to make Rossana completely targetable to little kids, which meant that many plot elements had to undergo heavy censorship. The result was a comedy/demential series that at times showed a sentimental route, and for the rest felt very cut, like it was hiding something. This was no Chou Gals!-styled localizaion effort: scenes were edited or completely deleted, names and terms translated losing all context, graphics and objects concerning japanese culture got zoomed out, some episodes even aired randomly without following the original order, and finally the ending got cut, leaving it as an open cliffhanger. Kodomo No Omocha is, originally, marketed towards an adolescent audience, but kids are a much more profitable target, so a lot of the original plot points went away: Sana no longer thinks of Rei (her adult manager, called Robby in italian) as his boyfriend; it's never mentioned that her actual mother abandoned her in a park after giving birth at only 14 years old; and many instances in which some kids (Heric, but also Komori in later eps) practice self-harm or have suicidal thoughts are cut in their entirety. And yet, despite this general mangling, the story managed to become popular anyway, gaining three reruns, some video distribution on VHS and DVD (both cut, for unknown reasons, after the 20th episode), and an opening with lyrics that will never leave the minds of an entire generation. The manga got translated only after 2002, getting marketed instead for its actual audience and going for a literal translation of its original title: "Il giocattolo dei bambini - Rossana" got published by Dynit in its entirety, however I'm not sure wether it underwent the same censorship measures of the cartoon or it was left to a more faithful state.

The hype about Rossana was interestingly lacking of any substantial, original merchandise imported from their origin country; instead, every gadget we had about the anime was produced by italian companies and it consisted in the usual cheapish stuff sold in order to cash a quick buck on popular media. We had school supplies such as bags, pencil cases and diaries, decorated stationary, and the never-missing sticker album. This last merchandise, aptly featured in this post, is what I remember most since everyone was trading doubles at school; the blindingly hot pink package has also burned a permanent image in my mind. Published by Merlin in 2001, Rossana's abundantly pink album could contain 204 stickers; be them glossy, holographic, single or combined, it adds up as quite a large selection considering that all images shown were nothing more than screenshots of the cartoon, with album pages filling up a description of episodes shown, or giving a little more insight on the general plot. At least my previously reviewed Pokèmon album showed interesting action poses by Sugimori and doubled up as a Pokèdex, but I do recognize the latter can count on a much more substantial franchise. What Rossana's album excels in, though, is its value; remember when I said a completed Pokèmon album was only worth a few bucks? Well, a completed Rossana album goes instead for nothing less than a hundred euros on secondhand markets. Even the single stickers, if sold in lots, can become a pretty penny, and still sealed booster packs can range from 30 to 70 euros depending on how many you're selling. I can already picture italian readers going through their cupboards to see if they still have this relic intact! As for me, I was too focused on Pokèmon during that period to care about filling up another sticker album, so I had completely skipped that. And no, I'm not gonna spend 100+ euros on an album just to make a Fandom post: what you're seeing here are all images collectors have shown to the net.

It's interesting to notice that Merlin tried to cash in on the anime's popularity even beyond the sticker album itself, by advertising even among the album pages an upcoming periodical (monthly I suppose?) magazine almost all centered on the cartoon, but trying to double up as a typical girls' magazine with pictures of boybands, various articles, and the always present and equally emberassing mail section. For some reason I have very vivid flashbacks of me going through the pages of the first volume: probably some friend brought it at school, they had it lying about at their house, or I may have bought it along with other girls then left it to them. This mag was nothing particular and doomed to be shortlived: you can't keep a single anime series relevant forever, and it was apparent that arguments tried to always pull Rossana into context when in reality it had nothing to do with the articles. It seemingly disappeared after its second issue, and got buried under the sheer abundance of more relevant girly mags, among which the legendary Cioè.

All in all, Rossana’s shout of livelyhood was probably short, but loud enough to have shook the heart and soul of many of us, especially in this country. It’s apparent that companies wanted to keep the profit margin as high as possible by not importing any substantial japanese gadget about Sana and opting instead for printed publications or cheapy stationery; however, apart from dolls, plushes and general toys, even Japan didn’t seem too keen on releasing actually peculiar stuff dedicated to the franchise. The most technological gimmick I found is a toy audio recorder, of which I can only find a few images online and not even one single listing so I can get and review it. Maybe I’m just sour no one ever thought about doing a Game Boy adaptation, because I’m sure it would’ve been a major hit among girls here. Oh well, can’t change the past... but surely you can remember it. :)

[renaroo]

Double Time (6/24)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typical violence Pairings: Tuckington, Chex Rating: T Synopsis: [Hero Time Sequel] After the events of Hero Time, the city and Blood Gulch are prepared for the true return of superheroes in a big way. But while Washington is attempting to adjust to a new relationship and a new living arrangement, the call of new heroes and a new mayor mean major changes for his professional life as well as his personal one. How will the balance of values fare when his new partners come to test everything he’s made of.

A/N: WHOO I kept on schedule and posted on Monday! Just like I wanted! WHOO. Anyway, this was a SUPREMELY fun chapter to write and I hope that transfers over to your guys’ enjoyment <3 Because it’s time for some shenanigans in this supposed comedy of errors. 

Special thanks to @analiarvb, @secretlystephaniebrown, @freshzombiewriter, @washingtonstub, @icefrozenover, @ashleystlawrence, @fuckyeahroosterteethproductions, @thepheonixqueen, @cobaltqueen, @justsmilesome, Yin, @notatroll7, @a-taller-tale, @orestes-swimming, and orangecookiekay on AO3 and tumblr for the wonderful feed back! I truly appreciate it more than you know.

Power Team

Tucker sat back against the hood of his car, right by a dent that would have probably been enough to make a regular car owner take the vehicle immediately to the shop. Of course, it was the least distracting part of the vehicle in Wash’s assessment so Tucker, of course, did nothing to signify embarrassment. 

No, he simply leaned back with his arms folded and a significant pout on his face for completely unrelated reasons to the moment at hand. 

“I look so dumb,” Tucker groaned. 

Washington was wearing spandex and kevlar that fit his every curve so he found little pity within himself to offer Tucker for having to wear sunglasses and a hoodie. “You’re fine.”

Tucker lowered his glasses enough to raise a brow and smirk slightly. “What kind of fine?”

“Not now,” Washington warned, holding up his hand. “The teenagers will be here soon and I don’t think all of them are aware of my identity. Which is why you’re dressed like that. And why I’m dressed like this.”

“Like a tool?” Tucker asked. 

“What is up with you lately?” Wash finally asked, turning enough to leer at Tucker. “You’re just so... aggressive.”

“By who’s standards?” Tucker replied snappishly.

“You just did it again,” Washington said pointing at him. “And now you’re about to change the subject--”

“Did you call Tex like I asked?” Tucker changed subjects, expectedly. 

“Goddammit, Tucker,” Wash groaned before rubbing his face. “Yes. Yes, I called Tex to ask her and she spent about ten minutes laughing at me before hanging up. So her not being here has nothing to do with me not coming up on my end.”

“Bow chicka bow wow.”

Letting out a sharp breath, Washington turned toward Tucker and put his hands on his hips. “That has to be the most passive aggressive innuendo I’ve heard in my life,” he announced.

“Heard a lot of them?” Tucker asked, tilting his head.

“Mostly from you,” Wash admitted, looking to his wrist for the time. “Everyone should be arriving soon. You know, you don’t have to be here. I’ll keep Junior by my side. You being here is kind of like... I don’t know. Parents who stay and watch basketball practice.”

Tucker, if possible, got tenser. “Right. Because I’m just an overprotective, single parent.”

Wash looked at Tucker, sensing that barely suppressed upset again. “I didn’t mean it that way--”

“What way?” Tucker asked sharply. “I swear to fucking god, you are so dense. You don’t even know what I’m upset about.”

“No, I don’t, so why don’t you tell me later after we get through here?” Wash offered in what he hoped wasn’t a dismissive tone, though he had his doubts given Tucker’s continuing, building upset. “Tucker--”

“Don’t give my name out in public or anything,” Tucker said, throwing his wrist fully into a dismissive hand wave. “I mean, fuck, hate to have anyone know you’re together with someone when they already seem to know about every other aspect of your life.”

Opening his mouth, Washington tried desperately, and failed, to find an adequate response. But even if he had had more than a few seconds he probably would not have been able to think of anything.

Even so, the moment was thankfully upended by the loud THUD of Junior leaping onto the top of the car and throwing up his arms in an excited honk.

He was wearing his usual playtime ‘superhero suit’ -- blanket cape, rubber rain boots, and all. Wash didn’t miss how it was a Texas merch shirt rather than a Washington one. 

It was very difficult to not take it immediately into offense. 

When neither Tucker nor Wash had responded appropriately toward Junior’s arrival, he clapped his jaws together in warning and glared at them both before performing a little jump and honking again. 

Catching on immediately, both Tucker and Washington began clapping for the child’s arrival which led to excitable cooing from Junior. 

“You look very heroic, Junior,” Wash commended him while Tucker lifted the little hybrid off the car and onto the street. “You’re going to make all the other heroes very jealous after I introduce you today.”

Tucker gave Wash a look. “Really? He’s wearing rubber boots.”

“Which are insulated from electrocution,” Washington said without pause.

Slowly, Tucker picked Junior back up and held onto him defensively. “What the hell are you planning on doing to the children, Wash?”

“What? Nothing! I didn’t mean it like--” Wash stopped himself and shook his head. “Nevermind. I was just being hyperbolic.”

“Is that a superhero term?” Tucker asked, holding onto Junior despite his son’s struggling to get free.

“No,” Wash said deadpanned just before there was the sound of multiple feet running in their direction. Wash turned and looked as the four teenagers from the courthouse made it to them breathlessly. “Good! You’ve come, and five minutes early. Not to mention you had the foresight to hide your identities by not bringing your personal vehicles with you and hiding them off sight. Very forward thinking.”

The four were catching their breaths. 

“Actually,” the one who was scantily clad save for the outrageous cape all but gulped down with his air. “None of us have cars. So we had to catch a bus here. Didn’t even know buses run to this part of town.”

“Oh,” Wash said, rubbing at his neck. “Okay, I’ll be sure to clarify transport with the four of you for next time. But it does show initiative that you changed and hid your clothes in the area. That’s also smart. Did you change in one of the alleys or abandoned buildings?”

Again, a silence fell over the group awkwardly and Jensen rubbed at her arm. “Aw, geesh,” she slurred through her braces. “We kinda rode here in costume.”

Tucker began laughing behind him as Wash stared at the group in disbelief.

“On... the public bus?” Wash asked critically.

“Were we not supposed to do that, Washington, Sir?” the tallest one asked worriedly.

“I told you it was stupid,” the one in orange accents snapped at the group.

“I was just suggesting to be practical!” the scantily clad one cried out.

“Palomo, you just want to show off your tight bod!” Jensen seethed. 

“Which is not built,” the yellow one snapped with a shake of his head.

“I’m built! I do cross fit!” Palomo defended. 

“Okay, enough!” Washington ordered, getting everyone’s attention back on him. “I’m partially to blame for this, I didn’t go over the basics when we initially met with the mayors. I’m aiming to correct that mistake starting today. So let’s start with an introduction. My name is Washington. I am a senior hero, used to be with the superhero team known as the Freelancers--”

“I used to have all your comics!!!” Jensen exploded with excitement. “On the fan forums I used to multiship you with almost all the other Freelancers! My OTP was definitely you and Maine!”

Wash glanced toward her. “Which... of course is not disconcerting or creepy to me at all.” He then continued, “Before Freelancer I went through the sidekick program as Epsilon. And since Freelancer’s disbandment after the Invasion I have taken up residence here in Blood Gulch to become something of a nighttime vigilante.”

The group watched him in awe. 

“Now, I’m going to teach the four of you what I know and, hopefully, help you to become the heroes this city needs,” Wash said further.

“But are they the ones it deserves?” Tucker all but sniggered in the background.

Wash gave him a look before seeing the way Junior was hiding behind his father’s legs, only peaking out to look at the new heroes with caution from time to time. 

“Which reminds me,” Wash said, turning to the group. “Introductions are in order. I need names and I need the kind of powers we’re dealing with.”

“Sir, yessir!” the tall one in blue said with a salute. “My name is John Elizabeth Andersmith!” He then flexed, each part of his body that showed skin suddenly morphed before their eyes to a shiny, metallic color. “I can turn my skin into an organic metal.”

“That’s astounding,” Wash said, blinking. He then thought harder about it and tilted his head. “What do you mean by organic metal?” 

“Sir?” Andersmith asked back curiously. 

“Organic elements and metallic ones aren’t... usually the same,” Wash tried to explain. “So when you say organic metal do you mean like a metal that’s in your body components naturally? Like copper or iron or zinc? Or...”

“I’m... not sure,” Andersmith said. “Isn’t all metal the same?”

“They have different strengths, different melting points,” Wash continued before shaking his head. “You know what? It’s really something we can figure out later. And we will figure it out later. I need to know if you can walk through lava or not without melting.”

“Lava?” the kids repeated in alarm.

“Again, Wash, I ask just what the hell you’re doing in these training sessions,” Tucker called from beside him. 

Giving his boyfriend an expectant stare, Wash expected for Tucker to back off but he merely crossed his arms and looked expectantly back. Sighing and giving in, Wash looked back to the teenagers. 

Katie Jensen, the secretary Wash remembered readily, stepped forward. She was so excited she was verging on hyperventilating. 

“Are you alright?” Wash asked. 

“I-I’m g-great!” she wheezed. “Just. Wow. Excited. Oh! I’m also Katie Jensen and-and-and... Powers! Right. Okay, I’m magnetic! Not, like, personality or anything. Heh. I mean. Wow, it’s super awkward to be around someone in person. That you didn’t treat like a person. And shipped with other real-people. Wow. Okay. Hi.”

Washington rubbed his shoulder. “Right. Let’s just... not discuss that part.”

“Oh! Yeah. Okay. That makes sense,” she said, voice getting more slurred and blubbery as her cheeks lit up. “Stupid, Jensen, stupid. Get it together, girl.”

“Taking sympathy on the young woman, Wash tried to edge her in the right direction. “You were telling us that you’re magnetic. You mind expanding on that a bit?”

“Of course!” she half-shouted, throwing up her arms in excitement. Sure enough, as she did so, an explosive burst came out from her -- moving Tucker’s car back onto the curb, knocking most of her teammates over, and causing the knives at Wash’s utility belt to be thrown backward.

Fortunately, Wash moved fast, flipping back and grabbing each of the throwing knives before they hit Tucker’s car, or, more importantly, Tucker and Junior. 

“Holy shit! My car!” Tucker bemoaned.

Curious, Wash glanced toward the vehicle. It literally looked no different than it had beforehand, but that didn’t mean anything. 

“Right, magnetism,” Wash finally said, looking back to Jensen. “Thank you for the display.”

Jensen, however, was not as excited and was sitting, hugging her knees and berating herself under her breath. 

“Guess that means I’m next!” the scantily clad one said, stepping out ahead of everyone.

Wash pressed his lips to a thin line. “Oh, good,” he said at least seventy-five percent sarcastic. Fortunately, it went right over the enthusiastic teenager’s head as he stretched and flexed and then grabbed onto the edges of his cape for dramatic effect as he swung his hips.

“Please turn invisible,” Wash said to himself, forcing himself to not look away.

"My name is Charles Palomo,” he announced with a swish of his hips.

“Oh gawd,” Tucker said, aghast.

“And my massively impressive, incredibly sexy power is...” He released his cape and waved his hands in front of him, skin shining and sparks igniting from his fingertips. “I... sparkle!”

Blinking a few times, Washington tried desperately to process the moment. Then he turned his head almost on its side. “You... sparkle?” he clarified. 

“I sparkle!” Palomo replied enthusiastically. 

“Oh my gawd,” the remaining teenager groaned. 

“Right. Okay,” Washington said, not even sure what to do with the information.

“Hey, I don’t know about being a superhero, but I can direct him to the nearest strip club. They’d love to give the fog machine a rest while maintaining their kitsch aesthetic,” Tucker laughed.

“You know, that’s not the most helpful input you could be giving me right now,” Washington told him.

“Who said I was here to be helpful? I relish in being a civilian compared to all you assholes in tights,” Tucker laughed. “I mean, you ever saw Church’s full getup?”

“No, and I can’t even imagine it,” Wash said with a wave of his hand. “Okay we only have one more -- what’s your name?”

The last stood his ground and gave a halfhearted shrug. “I’m Bitters. I do stuff with fire. I don’t feel the need to show off.”

Wash frowned. “This isn’t a show and tell, this is your first training session. It would help us all tremendously if we all knew what we were working with, Bitters.”

“Yeah, I don’t feel like it,” Bitters replied.

Wash pinched his nose and took a heralding breath. “It’s fine, it’s fine, we’ll work with this,” he muttered to himself before clapping his hands together. “Okay! Well, we have a good variety of meta powers here. And hopefully through training we’ll be able to learn how to work off of one another’s powers and strengths. It’s going to take a lot of training and evaluation.” He glanced toward Palomo again and then to the others. “And training. And more training. I cannot emphasize enough that we’re going to need a hell of a lot of training. But fortunately the variety here is--”

Without warning, there was a loud “HONK!” from behind Washington which caused him to turn on his heels to face the familiar sound.

“What the hell is that?” Bitters asked.

Tucker grabbed his hair in horror, words trying to escape his throat and failing to come out as more than strangled noise.

But Wash, Wash just found himself filled with a strange pride and genuinely being impressed. 

Junior stood underneath the family car, lifting it over his tiny head before he threw it a bit forward with a BLARGH and getting it off the curb after Jensen’s little explosion. 

“That,” Washington answered as Tucker raced over to Junior’s side and checked him out, “is your new teammate and my current trainee -- the Extraterrestrial Kid.”

Tucker shot Washington a dirty look but the rest of the superheroes all clapped and nodded happily in agreement with the choice of teammate. 

“We’ll work on codenames for all of you eventually,” Wash said, turning back toward the teenagers. “But until then, we work on your teamwork, your perserverance, and your general aptitude for the job ahead of you. I’m not going to be going easy on any of you, because the villains and monsters you’ll run into on a daily basis as superheroes have no interest in going easy on you. And my job is to make sure you all stay alive and well despite that.”

The teenagers immediately looked like they almost regretted the opportunity that had been offered to the.

Wash rubbed his neck. “Uh... then we’ll go to a nearby diner I really love and get milkshakes.”

“Yes!” “Alright!” “Fuck yeah!” “At least we’re getting something out of this.”

Breathing with relief at the show of approval, Wash then watched as Junior fought to get away from Tucker’s overly concerned nursing and protectiveness and took off to go stand by his new teammates, not at all deterred by either the quality of his costume, his height or lack thereof, or the fact that he, of course, was non-human. 

It accented for Wash what a ragtag group he had before him. 

This was going to be a challenge.

Jensen raised her hand patiently like she was in a lecture hall. 

“Um, Washington, Sir?” she asked timidly. “Not that we’re not super excited and that anyone would doubt a veteran of so many cool things like you... but why are we in the worst part of the city for this training instead of the training room the mayors have built for us?”

Tucker puffed out his bottom lip. “Worst part of town? Seriously?”

“You’re here because no matter what skills you were born with, or what rules you’re told on the first day, nothing is going to show you just where your powers and skill levels are at or give you a clue as to how to work together as a team like a real-life trial,” Washington explained. “Which is why I called in a favor from some friends.”

The kids looked perplexed just before an echo of polka music could be heard echoing around the street corner. 

Washington looked back down to his wrist and then to Tucker. “Right on time.”

“How’d you manage that?” Tucker asked. “That’s almost more impressive than the fact you kept a straight face through most of that bullcrap you were talking to these kids. The Reds haven’t been right on time for anything in their entire lives. Combined.”

Wash shrugged and gave a small smirk Tucker’s way. “I gave them the same time as the kids to be here and then just assumed it’d be about fifteen to twenty minutes later.”

“Smart,” Tucker replied, unable to stop the small smirk he had in response. 

Without any further ado, the Reds pulled up their jeep right beside Tucker’s car and revealed to be in full costume, looking curiously at the kids.

“Whoo!” Donut said, giving a thumbs up to Palomo. “Nice sparkles!”

“Thanks!” Palomo responded.

“What’d you want us here for, Wash? Is there some kinda freak costume parade in Blood Gulch no one warned us about?” Grif asked dully. 

“I want you guys here to... have some fun,” Wash explained cryptically before turning back to the teenagers and Junior. “Everyone, this is the Red Dead Blood Gulch Gang. They’re a group of vandals and anarchists that are on the mend.”

“Yeah, unwillingly,” Grif countered.

“They like to paint stoplights, steal gasoline from gas stations that are overcharging, and break windows of buildings to make a point,” Wash continued. 

“We do?” Simmons asked.

“Is that why we brought all these paint cans?” Donut asked.

“They also like to run over superheroes that try to stop them,” Wash said with a slight glare their way which was enough to silence the majority of the Reds and make Sarge chuckle deviously. “So I suppose you could call them armed and dangerous.”

Grif tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “Dude, what the actual fuck. I thought you were rehabilitating us and all that shit?”

"Oh, I am,” Wash assured them. “And there’s nothing better to teach you a lesson about the downsides of rampant crime than to be hounded by a bunch of super powered teenagers.”

“You’re going to let them chase us around Blood Gulch!?” Simmons cried out.

“You are!?” the kids said excitedly.

“Yes,” Wash answered. “And I want you, Reds, to show these kids what the price of their inactions, failures, or mistakes in the field are by vandalizing any uninhabited property between here and the junkyard,” Wash explained. “All of which they have to clean up if they lose you, and you have to clean up if they catch you.”

The Reds stared at him before leaning in toward each other and loudly whispering between each other. Then they sat back up. 

“Challenge accepted, dirtbag!” Sarge announced. “By the way, hate your new costume. Blue and yellow is disgusting!” 

Without any further warning, Grif stomped down on the gas pedal and took off down the street to the whooping scream of an excited Donut.

“Wait!” Jensen cried out. “How’re we supposed to catch them?” she asked. 

Wash leaned back and shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s what you’re going to show me. I’d hurry if I were you, though. I can guarantee their first crimes are going to be ignoring stoplights and stop signs.”

The kids all looked at each other and then took off with a scream. 

Just as Wash had worried they would, they immediately split up without any game plan. “Well,” he sighed as Tucker walked up to his side. “This is going to take a long time.”

“The fact that you’re a bad coach might be at least partially to blame for that, Wash,” Tucker replied with a raised brow. “You’ve not given them any instruction! Any ideas!”

“I know,” Wash said. “Today isn’t about that. Today is about showing them everything they don’t know. Break them in. Make that over confidence they have from having super powers disappear.”

Tucker stared at him. “That’s fucked up.”

“That’s what my mentor did to me,” Wash said with a shrug. “She was the best influence I ever had.”

“Aw, now that just hurts my feelings, Wash,” Tex’s voice called from behind them. 

Surprised, both Wash and Tucker turned and were faced with Tex as she casually reappeared from her invisibility. 

"Tex!” Tucker said enthusiastically before they fist bumped each other. 

“Nice, Wash,” she said, eyes flicking up to him. “You got started without me, asshole.”

“You laughed at me on the phone, you said no,” Washington reminded her.

“I laughed, that wasn’t a no,” she shrugged. 

“Well, I’ll introduce you after this practice run ends,” Wash said, looking back toward the streets the teams had ran down, hearing some screeching and yells as well as a light show of sparks in the air. “It... might end quicker than expected. One way or the other.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” Tex said with a wave of her hand. “I don’t... do the kid thing. Or the responsibility thing, or the revealing I’m alive to most people thing. It’s for the best that way. Keeping to the shadows.”

Wash pointed at his chest. “That’s what I wanted to do--”

“But now the government knows everything about you. Congrats,” Tex reminded him. “Which is another reason I’m late,” she said, glancing toward the rooftops. “Tell me, Wash, how long have you been tailed by someone?”

Confused, Washington crossed his arms. “Tailed? I’ve not been tailed. I would have noticed--”

“You are tailed,” she said. “Guy was here even before I was, watching you all. Didn’t get a great look at him and he noticed me and took off before I could get closer and take them out. Somehow they noticed me with my invisibility.” 

“That’s... not great,” Tucker lamp shaded. 

“What did they want?” Wash demanded, more than a little worried. 

“I didn’t catch them, Wash,” she reminded him. “But they were very interested in your little pow wow here. And if I had to take a guess... they’re going to continue to be.”

She began to disappear again at the second sound of an explosion a few blocks over. “Watch out for yourselves, guys. I’m not always going to pop up and save your asses at the last minute.”

Washington watched her disappear before rolling his eyes nearly back into his skull. “Most unhelpful partner ever. Of all time.”

“Wash, this sounds pretty serious,” Tucker said worriedly.

“Almost as serious as your crankiness factor lately,” Wash said, glancing toward him. “You ready to talk about that while we--”

There was a huge crashing noise and Wash sighed. 

“Later, Superhero,” Tucker said, waving Wash off. “Go clean up your extremely bad idea. Let me worry about my family. Alone. Again.”

Wash raised a brow at him before doing as instructed. 

It was something they could talk about later, obviously.

[ddrkirbyisq]

Well, okay, I guess we can catch up on actual happenings too.  It's hard to know what to write though, for a multitude of reasons.  But I know I have had thoughts, so we'll just start with whatever I end up remembering. She is gone.  The "Kagome" person, she is gone.  Of course, I always knew she would be, she was destined to leave my life, as another had once before.  I told her as much, too.  I knew.  And it seems now that that time has clearly passed.  Thinking about that person's name, I'm not 100% sure how to feel.  Being with this person reminded me so strongly, of the one that I've never forgotten.  I guess I miss them both.  But it is hard to imagine that I would ever choose to hold onto this thread tightly.  For not only did I know from the beginning that things would end, but I knew also, that she was only a reminder of whom I really wanted to see.  That person, whose absence seems...unfair, even. And yet it always astonishes me, how "the girl of the four winds" is still in my life, even when those two are not.  And yet, even if I stop reaching backwards, I must never stop remembering. itch.io has a massive charity bundle on sale now and even if you care nothing about supporting the NAACP and community bail funds, you should still get it because the amount of value there is insane, like....insane, like, what??? I've been making my way through some of the games this weekend, since....well, playing games is apparently what I needed to do.  I played through all of Fortune-499, an interesting little card-based game which I enjoyed.  While I think there were aspects that felt slightly (and I mean slightly) not as "elegant" as I would have liked, that's really a minor complaint, and overall I found that it managed to simply.....stay interesting.  I think it was a great mix of game mechanics and narrative and each chapter tries to throw something new at you.  I feel like the pacing of the game (if that's the right term) felt really nice because of that.  The aesthetic is well-done too, these little details like the transition that happens every day really help put a nice bow on the whole package.  Very nice. I played through the hilarious Astrologaster as well, a narrative-based comedy choose-your-own-adventure game that involves you playing as a "doctor" who reads the stars (read: "bullshits everything") to diagnose his patients.  I'd recommend really sitting down and playing through this in one sitting if you're going to, simply because I feel like it would be really awkward to come back to it after getting halfway through and having forgotten all of the context that informs your decisions through the game.  I found it difficult to keep everything straight in my head towards the later part of the game, but somehow managed to squeak by with a license at the end -- huzzah!  It did a really good job of giving you some interesting challenges in terms of trying to figure out what choices would lead to a "good" outcome, often having you balance honesty with people-pleasing as well as external concerns and future consequences. I tried out Interstellaria briefly, but it seems a bit more intimidating (and unfortunately not as user-friendly) than I had hoped.  I'm willing to try giving it another chance (the soundtrack!), but I'm tempering my expectations for that one, as I know it's supposed to not be the most polished game in existence. In the meantime, I've finished Illusion of Gaia!  Crazily, I also managed to find this really long critical analysis/writeup of Illusion of Gaia, which was certainly interesting even if not super groundbreaking.  IoG (or "Illusion of Time" as it is also known) is an interesting game, as I've said before.  I think it does a few things right, and some other things fairly mediocre.  But as with Secret of Mana (perhaps the prime example), sometimes bundling together some mediocrity with vibrant visuals, GREAT music, and a world that "looks and feels great" is really enough to get a game through all of its flaws.  I never knew this before, but it turns out that you can fight every single boss as Will (not freedan or shadow), though doing this for some of the later bosses is just plain tedious (pharaoh queen would just take forever....), and doing it for the hardest boss in the game (the vampires) is a very legitimate challenge, perhaps even harder than beating the "secret boss" Solid Arm.  I'd have to say Illusion of Gaia starts to kind of fall flat near all of the final sections of the game.  For most of the game, once you finish a dungeon, you simply move onto the next area, but for some reason once you get to Ankor Wat and the Mountain Temple, you have to backtrack through the whole dungeon in order to exit.....couple that with the sequence in Rivermia where you need to wait for the lily pad, plus the Pyramid which has you switching forms over and over again...not to mention waiting in like in Euro, as well as fetching the girl 3 apples.....there's suddenly a LOT of tedium that gets introduced and none of it is particularly good.  At least combat is more interesting, as you know have some additional abilities to play around with (read: "mess around with and take more damage than if you had just done the simple thing").  The boss rush at the end isn't super engaging either, as all of the bosses are easier this time around (due to being Shadow), though the vampires are still challenging as ever.  The final boss is more or less a pushover, so yeah.  What really drags IoG down at the end, though is the slllllooooooowwwwww dialogue throughout all of the ending sequences.  Thank goodness I had a fast-forward function available to me there. Anyways, this now clears me to try Terranigma again, if I so choose...I have heard good things about this game, and apparently it has a bittersweet ending of some sort, but I'll try not to get my hopes TOO high. Oh, I should also mention that I finished the entire alternate puzzle mode of Panel de Pon, yay! Also randomly started playing through Full Throttle.......but I mean, I guess this ought to not be a surprise to anybody anymore, that yet again I've taken a game from....*checks*....1995, and randomly decided to go and play through it. I've been continuing to read through Animorphs here and there (got through book 6...ok, I'm not very far yet, I admit)...also came across a random thread on twitter praising KA Applegate for being super supportive of the BLM movement, as well as...you know, writing a so-called children's book series that talks about slavery, war, xenophobia, child soldiers, morality, humanity, ... I haven't gotten to all of the more heavy stuff (that all comes later on in the war...) but we're getting there.  Yeah...just thinking about it, I still recall reading book 48.  It was late at night and I was using the desk lamp in my bedroom at my parents' place, listening to Sixpence None the Richer.  Hearing the song "Tonight", at the ending of that book, when Rachel is supposed to figure out what to do, and she just...doesn't know.  It's left unsaid what happens, and I think that's actually really good writing.  Because the impact of that moment would be gone, if Rachel just decides what to do.  You'd have the answer.  But you don't.  You don't know what happens.  You don't know what Rachel should do, or should have done.  Just like her.  And all the while, Leigh Nash was singing, "Tonight it's time....choose a direction...if you fail...you can make a correction...." I love meowmie. Randomly watching some more of HealthyGamerGG, and such, actually feels.....great.  There's this element of human contact and conversation that I think I couldn't really identify as a missing block in isolated life, and I think hearing supportive voices and seeing people help each other, even if not directed at myself, is invigorating.  And I think =past= even that, I think just hearing someone break down problems and emotions in such a rational and relatable way is quite useful.  I think it's like.....I don't know if this happens to other people, but when you hear or watch or even read someone's speaking or writing a lot, I think sometimes you begin to formulate an internal monologue or rationalization in their words, in their style of thinking.  And I think that's actually really helpful, in a lot of different situations. Speaking of people helping each other out...last but certainly not least (the opposite, really), I've been trying to embark on this journey that several others have been.  There are some things to do, many things to do, really.  But for now, the first thing to do is simply....to do my homework.  Abstract plans are hard to act on, but if there is anything I am good at, it is taking what seems like a giant boulder and chunking it up into bite-sized pieces such that I can make progress, and then make progress, and then make progress again.  And I hope that someday, =we= will make progress....make progress....and continue to walk forward.  What is overwhelming, hopeless, and impossible all at once becomes something easier to digest when it becomes a tangible thing.  HealthyGamerGG talked about that too, actually, as a form of Operational Procrastination. So yes.  We will try, and try, and keep trying.  And we each have our own small part to play in this thing.  I already know what I hope mine to be.  For now, I'm just making my way there. I donno, I mean....I guess I could write these blog posts with a bit more context and explanation.  But sometimes blogs are ok too, without explanation.  When you don't really know exactly what I'm talking about, but you can read that there's a sentiment behind it.  Does every art piece need its "point" to be explained in order to be appreciated?

[thegloober]

NYFF 2018: The Slows, In My Room, Sorry Angel, Too Late to Die Young

by Scout Tafoya

October 1, 2018   |  

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It’s funny to think about the way festivals evolve, their many changing faces. I’ve never wanted to go to the Toronto International Film Festival because there are just too many movies. I’d drive myself crazy trying to see everything they’ve basically engineered it so that I can’t. You can get very close at NYFF, despite the occasionally inconvenient screening times, or the fact that the special presentations and shorts aren’t screened for the press. Which means that if you only saw the documentaries, which seem to always be about dictators and artists, you’d see the tension between the subjects as essential to the film festival’s persona. This year there are documentaries about Roger Ailes, Richard Nixon and Steve Bannon playing side by side with films about Orson Welles and Ingmar Bergman. That last film (“Searching for Ingmar Bergman”) is co-directed by the legendary Margarethe von Trotta and it’s a marvel, incidentally, a can’t-miss ambling through the Swedish director’s legacy. 

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If, on the other hand, you were to catch something like Nicole Perlman’s sci-fi short “The Slows,” you’d think you were about to enter a very different sort of space. Perlman’s a screenwriter from a place that doesn’t much care about screenwriters: she wrote “Guardians of the Galaxy” and “Captain Marvel” and has a bunch of other gargantuan budget comic movies on the horizon. But “The Slows” is a much simpler film, about a colony of people who live outside a homogenized society in the distant future. It’s calm, quiet and earthy but still more overtly a genre piece. And NYFF doesn’t typically deal in genre, which makes it stand out. The identity of the main slate is much harder to pin to one type of movie, but then again, maybe it’s the indescribability of the likes of these movies that binds them. 

The closest thing you’ll find to a genre film in the main slate is something like Ulrich Köhler’s “In My Room,” which tiptoes around sci-fi and horror but in the end stays resolutely free of their trappings. It starts with one of the best gags any film in the fest has this year as we watch footage from a political event. The camera man and anchor keep walking up to politicians, asking them if they’d like to comment on camera, and then the camera shuts off and turns back on when they’re done talking. We see this happen three or four times before a hilarious cut reveals the annoyed faces of the editor and anchorman reviewing the footage in the news station. The cameraman responsible for the screw-up is Armin (Hans Löw) and this technical snafu is just one more piece of bad luck in a horrible week. On top of a host of small personal problems, his grandmother is dying. After saying goodbye to her he goes off to get drunk, passes out and wakes up to find the world a very different place. 

There are myriad pleasures in Köhler’s film, not least the guessing game he makes the audience play about what kind of movie they’re watching. Sci-fi? Comedy? Horror? Drama? The smattering of all of the above slowly gives way to an deliberate purgatorial holding pattern. There’s joy and misery, promise and disappointment. His camera has to consistently remain open and surprised but confident in order for the sustained effect of his dramatic scheme to hold. Each cut brings us further away from what we thought we were watching and into delectable surprise. This is precisely the sort of movie I expect to see at NYFF, a film that’s almost a lot of things and blissfully itself. It reminded me of a title from last year’s festival, Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s “Before We Vanish,” which on its face could have just been a sort of poker-faced ’80s sci-fi homage, but wound up in a heartrending generic netherworld. “In My Room” is a deadpan delight, a thoughtful treatise on human priorities and how much we can change without really changing. 

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That same idea, of being unable to meaningfully change, animates Christophe Honoré’s “Sorry Angel” as well. A middle-aged writer (Pierre Deladonchamps) sees a handsome young man (Vincent Lacoste) at a screening of “The Piano” in 1993 and the two strike up a relationship. Jacques is divorced, has a son, and one of his old boyfriends is dying of AIDS. Arthur is just figuring his sexuality out and has to leave his girlfriend in order to get serious about his relationships with men. Honoré films the men during the long-distance portion of their courtship—the ways in which they grow and change, their pining for one another, their destructive impulses—with his usual musicality and verve. 

It routinely astonishes me that Honoré isn’t thought of as one of the most vital directors in the world, before I realize that we don’t tend to give hosannas for someone’s ability to authentically describe happiness and romance with a camera. Whether in his erotic thrillers or his musicals, Honoré’s framing is always luscious, displaying his understanding and translation of lust and love into cinematic devices (the best one here might be a phone call where the two men are suddenly in the same room talking and caressing each other). Arthur visits Paris for the day to see Jacques and has a symbolic visit to a cemetery and walks by François Truffaut’s grave. It may be heretical to even think this but Truffaut never found a romantic cinematic language to rival Honoré’s. Every dolly and pan oozes a very French emotional openness. Every bed sheet and wall shines a brilliant blue to communicate the coming tragedy, the wall Jacques and Arthur’s love must hit, while every frame emphasizes the many ways humans can touch. 

The inevitable end of desire standing in for the end of youth is a recurring theme in a lot of this year’s selections at the festival. Dominga Sotomayor Castillo’s “Too Late To Die Young” weaves that into its thematic tapestry, and it’s even set in the early ’90s like “Sorry Angel.” And where the French film poignantly spins Ride and Pet Shop Boys, Castillo has her young heroine (Demian Hernández) sing a Mazzy Star tune at a talent show to place the film in time. 

Democracy has lately returned to Chile, and Castillo’s mise-en-scene celebrates by showing a community of hill-dwelling outsiders in wide open frames. Their beautifully ornate homes, their richly textured lives, their various craft-based professions, their creativity celebrated and rewarded, all of it comes across as richly varied as the many weathered faces on the mountain. They live outside of society and their few forays into it usually lead to trouble: a beer run ends in violence, a woman trying to reclaim her daughter’s dog ends in tears, a mother never arrives to rescue her child from life with her father. Out there it’s a big messy mystery. In the hills at least they know who and where everybody is. 

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The primary influence seems to be Robert Altman’s “Short Cuts” (made in 1993, when this would have to be set in order for that Mazzy Star cover to make sense), with its collection of stories like the roots of a tree, its climactic natural disaster, and its Raymond Carver-style attention to domestic and natural detail gently clashing. The film has a number of images that might stay with you longer than the contours of its varied stories: a variety of realistic musical performances, a dog running in slow-motion in the dusty wake of a car, a tiny car causing a little traffic jam, children happily swimming in a concrete pool, a chicken in a tree house. The little things stay with you. Like the festival housing these varied works, you remember the small bits that shake you as the overall shape begins to fade. 

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