#every character in the original cast was so wonderfully designed ESPECIALLY the five

[eosofspades]

oh my god i figured out what's bothering me about zhen its that she has the elsa face

apologies for the bad quality i got these from a youtube video but like literally why is she so PLAIN. would it have killed them to give her some narrower eyes?? some starker color separation?? ANY markings at all?????

[buzzdixonwriter]

Hoo Noo Shmoo?

Never let it be said that this blog is flagging in its enthusiasm for flogging horses so dead they’re found in the glue bin at Office Max.

To whit, the Scorsese vs MCU brouhaha.

Bottom line: Scorsese is right.  As well made as MCU movies are, they ain’t cinema, they’re glorified commercials to sell MCU product.

Full disclosure: I should know, since I wrote for G.I. Joe, Transformers, and a host of other toy-based syndicated animation shows.  I’m happy with the work I did, I can point proudly to specific episodes I wrote that aspire to be more than mere half-hour commercials…

…but they ain’t art.

They ain’t art, despite our aspirations to do the best job we could, because ultimately we creators were not allowed to create what we felt best for our stories, but what Hasbro deemed vital to their sales.

(The closest we got to art was when Hasbro cancelled The Inhumanoids toy line in mid-production of the TV series, and said we could finish our broadcast commitment however we saw fit so long as it didn’t result in an FCC complaint.  As a result, we went nuts.)

My Hasbro / Sunbow experience remains a highpoint of my creative life, so I’m not denigrating the talent, skill, ability, spirit, and enthusiasm of those making MCU movies.

…but they ain’t art.

Now, those who love MCU movies think Scorsese’s comments are a slam against them.

Welllll…no, not directly.

But they do underscore how popularity -- especially of media designed to push product -- is a faulty measuring stick for artistic merit.

Case in point: The Shmoo.

Wuzza shmoo, you ask (and thus proving my point)?

Shmoos were extremely popular in the late 1940s.  Part of the wonderfully wacky world cartoonist Al Capp created for his hit Li’l Abner comic strip, shmoos represented a parable on American consumerism, modern day geese laying not mere golden eggs but birthday cakes with candles a’blazin’.

As Capp described them:

They reproduce asexually and are incredibly prolific, multiplying faster than rabbits. They require no sustenance other than air.

Shmoos are delicious to eat, and are eager to be eaten. If a human looks at one hungrily, it will happily immolate itself -- either by jumping into a frying pan, after which they taste like chicken, or into a broiling pan, after which they taste like steak. When roasted they taste like pork, and when baked they taste like catfish. Raw, they taste like oysters on the half-shell.

They also produce eggs (neatly packaged), milk (bottled, grade-A), and butter -- no churning required. Their pelts make perfect boot leather or house timbers, depending on how thick one slices them.

They have no bones, so there's absolutely no waste. Their eyes make the best suspender buttons, and their whiskers make perfect toothpicks. In short, they are simply the perfect ideal of a subsistence agricultural herd animal.

Naturally gentle, they require minimal care and are ideal playmates for young children. The frolicking of shmoos is so entertaining (such as their staged "shmoosical comedies") that people no longer feel the need to watch television or go to the movies.

Some of the more tasty varieties of shmoo are more difficult to catch, however. Usually shmoo hunters, now a sport in some parts of the country, use a paper bag, flashlight, and stick to capture their shmoos. At night the light stuns them, then they may be whacked in the head with the stick and put in the bag for frying up later on.

Of course, in the original strip continuity, the shmoos were quickly eradicated, driven to extinction by food packagers who feared bankruptcy.

It was a sharp, biting message, and one that looked critically at both insatiable consumerism and capitalism’s claims of superiority.

Capp, of course, was too savvy a marketeer himself to eliminate the shmoos entirely, and so he provided for one breeding pair to survive…and for the shmoos to make repeated appearances for the rest of Li’l Abner’s run.

Shmoo mania ran rampant with shmoo dolls, shmoo clocks, shmoo games, shmoo candy, shmoo snacks, and shmoo apparel.  

The money truck basically backed up to Capp’s front door and dumped its load on his porch.  Shmoos proved insanely popular and it seemed the mania would never end…

…except it did.

To mangle metaphors, you can only take so many trips to the same well before your audience starts asking “What?  Beans again?”

And then, in a fickle flash, it’s over.

I’d be hard pressed today to find anyone younger than the boomer cohort who ever heard of Al Capp or Li’l Abner unless their school or community theatre presented the Broadway musical adaptation of the strip (the show remains popular with amateur theatrical troupes such as high schools and colleges because the huge cast of Dogpatch citizens guarantees everybody who tries out for the show will land some part in it).

For all their popularity and merchandise and media impact -- songs on the radio, big spreads in weekly news magazines -- the shmoos left virtually no cultural footprint.

(Full disclosure yet again: I wrote for a Scooby-doo knock-off by Hanna-Barbera called The New Shmoo and it was a piece of crap, abandoning the whole consumerism point of the original shmoos and making them -- or just “it” in our case -- a pseudo-funny dog sidekick for a squad of mystery solving kids.  And it wasn’t a piece of crap because we didn’t try our best, it was a piece of crap because the shmoo was treated as ubiquitous “product” under the misconception that of course everybody younger than Joe Barbera would recognize the name and love the character so deeply that they’d simultaneously develop amnesia about what made the original character so appealing.)

Product.

That’s what one of the most brilliant, most poignant, most spot-on commentaries on rampant consumerism and ruthless capitalism ironically reduced down to.  Product.

There’s a line in Jurassic Park that resonates here:  ”Life will find a way.”

Let’s paraphrase that to “Art will find a way” because like life, art is an expression of the creative urge.

Right now, by and large, it’s trapped in the giant all encompassing condom of corporate consumerism, providing fun and pleasure and excitement, but not really creating anything new, to be wadded up and thrown away when the suits are done screwing us.

But every now and then there’s a tiny pinprick in the sheath, and when that happens there’s the chance of something wonderful, something meaningful, something of lasting value emerging.

It is possible for art to emerge from a corporate context, but only if the corporate intent is to produce a work of art for its own purposes.   Michelangelo carved David as a work for hire, the local doge commissioning the sculpture because he wanted to impress peers and peasants by donating the biggest statue ever made by the hottest artist of the era (and even then Michelangelo needed to resort to subterfuge to keep the doge from “improving” on his work with “suggestions” [read “commands”].)

The very first Rocky movie was a work of art because the producers focused on telling a simple, singular story about a loser who could only win by going the distance, not by defeating his opponent but by refusing to be beaten by him.

It’s a great cinematic moment that rings true and it’s going to last forever…unlike sequels Rocky II - V where Rocky fights supervillains like Mr. T and a robot (hey, that was the movie playing in my head when I watched Rocky IV and it was a helluva lot more entertaining than what I actually saw onscreen).

The suits castrated Rocky, reducing him from a unique universal cultural touchstone down to…well…product.

The MCU movies are product; rather, they are two-hour+ commercials to sell product in the form of videogames, action figures, T-shirts, and Underoos.

The real art occurred almost 60 years ago when Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko knocked out page after page as fast as they could, drawing deep from the wellsprings of their own interests, experiences, and passions.

(“What about Stan?” I hear you ask.  Look, we all love Stan, but truth be told his great contribution to the MCU came in his service as drum major for the Merry Marvel marching Society.  God bless him for firing up the fan base’s enthusiasm for the Marvel bullpen’s work, but compare what his artists did before and after their collaboration with him to what he did before and after his editorial tenure at Marvel and it’s clear upon whose shoulders the muses rested.)

As much fun as MCU movies are (I’ve seen about 1/3 of ‘em and enjoyed most of what I saw), I also recognize in them the harm they do.

They are promoted heavily to sell product to raise the fortunes of one of the biggest corporations on the planet, a corporation that holds control over five of the largest, most popular entertainment brands on the market.

To protect their cash cows, Disney chokes potential rivals in their cribs.

Think there’s going to be another Alien or Predator movie now that Disney owns them and Star Wars?  Why create rivals to a mega-successful property you already own?  (I will be genuinely surprised if we see another Guardians Of The Galaxy movie in light of the faltering popularity of Star Wars in Disney’s eyes; they’re going to want to shore up their billion dollar investment rather than call it a day and let some upstart -- even an upstart they own 100% -- rob them of revenue.)

Disney’s battle plan to choke out all potential rivals leaves no room in the DEU (Disney Expanded Universe) for independent minded creators.

They want competent hired pens who can churn out the product they desire in order to bolster sales of other products derived from those.

(Even more full disclosure:  I wrote for Chip ‘n’ Dale’s Rescue Rangers as well as some Aladdin and Scrooge McDuck comic book stories.)

Disney’s MCU, for all its expertly executed whiz-bang, is a bloated, soulless zombie, a giant gaudy inflated parade balloon blocking the vision of others.

There’s a scene in the movie The Founder -- a genuine cinematic work of art that comments ironically on the selling of a product --  that applies here.

Ray Kroc (Michael Keaton) relentlessly browbeats the McDonald brothers (Nick Offerman and John Carroll Lynch) into letting him replace their real milkshakes with what will come to be known as the McShake, an ersatz product that at best reminds one of what a real milkshake should taste like.

The McDonald Brothers are horrified.  Not only does it not taste like a real milkshake, but it goes against the very grain of what they desire as restauranteurs:  To provide quality food quickly for their customers, trading value for value.

Kroc will have none of this.  To him the customers are simply one more obstacle between him and their money.

He doesn’t see them as the source of his revenue, but as impediments to same.

What benefits them, what nurtures their diets, what gives them pleasure, what trades value for value is completely unimportant to him.

They exist only to make him rich and powerful.

By the end of the film, Kroc has effectively declared war on his own partners, his own employees, his own customers.  He recognizes he is not in the business his customers and employees and partners think he’s in (i.e., fast food) but rather in the real estate business, buying land that McDonald’s franchises must lease from him in order to operate.

By the end, he’s not concerned with how well his customers eat, or how well his employees are treated, or how financially secure his franchise managers feel.

By the end, all he wants is the money, and he doesn’t care how his franchises make it so long as they pass it along to him.

As a result, McDonald’s contributes heavily to America’s obesity and diabetes epidemics, advising their employees to take second jobs so they can afford to continue working for them at substandard wages.

Disney’s MCU is a super-sized Happy Meal™ that’s ruining the cultural health of its consumers.

   © Buzz Dixon

[meeedeee]

The Great Wall: Review RSS FEED OF POST WRITTEN BY FOZMEADOWS

Warning: all the spoilers for The Great Wall.

When I first heard about The Great Wall, I rolled my eyes and dismissed it as yet another exploitative tale of Western exceptionalism where the white guy comes in, either insults or co-opts the local culture, saves the day and gets the girl, all while taking a role originally intended for or grossly better suited to a person of colour. It wasn’t until later that I learned the film was directed by Zhang Yimou, filmed on location in Qingdao, China,  and featuring a predominantly Chinese cast, with Matt Damon – emphasised in Western marketing to attract a Western audience – starring as one of several leads, in a role that was always intended for a Western actor. The film was released in China at the end of 2016 – and is, in fact, the most expensive film ever shot entirely in China – and was meant to be an international release, designed to appeal to both Chinese and Western audiences, from the outset.

Which left me feeling rather more curious and charitable than I had been; enough so that, today, I went out and saw it. Historically, I’m not an enormous fan of Matt Damon, who always strikes me as having two on-screen modes – All-American Hero and Not-Quite-Character Actor, the former being generally more plausible than the latter at the expense of being less interesting – but I’ve always enjoyed Zhang Yimou’s cinematography, especially his flair for colour and battle sequences. The fact that The Great Wall is ultimately an historical action fantasy film – a genre I am predisposed to love – is also a point in its favour; I’ve watched a great deal of Hollywood trash over the years in service to my SFFnal heart, and even with Damon’s involvement, The Great Wall already started out on better footing than most of it by virtue of Zhang’s involvement.

Even so, I was wary about the execution overall, and so went in expecting something along the lines of a more highly polished but still likely disjointed Chinese equivalent to the abysmal 47 Ronin, an American production that floundered thanks to a combination of studio meddling, language issues with the predominantly Japanese-speaking cast being instructed to deliver their lines in English, last-minute changes and a script that couldn’t decide who was writing it. But of course, 47 Ronin’s biggest offence – aside from constituting a criminal waste of Rinko Kikuchi’s talents – was doing what I initially, falsely assumed The Great Wall was doing: unnecessarily centering a white actor playing a non-white role in an Asian setting whose authenticity was systematically bastardised by the Western producers.

Instead, I found myself watching one of the most enjoyable SFF action films I’ve seen since Pacific Rim. (Which did not waste Rinko Kikuchi.)

The premise: William (Matt Damon) and his companion Tovar (Pedro Pascal) are part of a Western trade mission sent to China to find black powder – gunpowder – for their armies at home. While fleeing Kitan bandits in the mountains, they encounter an unknown monster and, in seeking its origins, are soon taken in by the Nameless Order, an army manning the Great Wall against an expected incursion of the monsters, called Taotie. In charge are General Shao (Hanyu Zhang) and his offsider, Commander Lin Mae (Tian Jing), advised by Strategist Wang (Andy Lau). Every sixty years, the Taotie attack from a nearby mountain, and the next attack is just starting; as such, the Nameless Order and the Great Wall are all that stand between the hoards, controlled by a single Queen, and the nearby capital, Bianliang. While attempting to win Commander Lin’s trust, William makes two alliances: one with Sir Ballard (Willem Dafoe), a Westerner who initially came to China in search of black powder twenty-five years ago; and another with Peng Yong (Lu Han), a young soldier whose life he saves. While Tovar and Ballard are eager to steal the black powder and leave, Commander Lin, General Shao and Strategist Wang are working to counter the evolving strategies of the Taotie: if the Wall is breeched and Bianliang falls, the Taotie will have enough sustenance to overrun the world, a fact which forces William to choose between loyalty to his friends and to a higher cause.

From the outset, I was impressed by the scriptwriting in The Great Wall, which manages the trick of being both deft and playful, fast-paced without any stilted infodumping or obvious plot-holes, aside from a very slight and seemingly genre-requisite degree of handwaving around what the Taotie do when they’re not attacking. The fact that at least half the film is subtitled was another pleasant surprise: of the Chinese characters, both Lin and Wang speak English – their fluency is explained by years of Ballard’s tutelage – and who act as translators for the rest; even so, they still get to deliver plenty of lines in Chinese, and there are numerous scenes where none of the Western characters are present. A clever use is also made of the difference between literal and thematic translations: while the audience sees the literal English translation of the Chinese dialogue in subtitles, there are multiple occasions when, in translating out loud for the benefit of the English-speaking characters, Lin and Wang make subtle adjustments, either politely smoothing over private jokes or tweaking their words for best effect.The scene where Commander Lin’s ability to speak English is revealed made me laugh out loud in a good way: I hadn’t expected the film to be funny, either, but it frequently is, thanks in no small part to the wonderful Pedro Pascal, who plays Tovar so beautifully that he has a tendency to steal every scene he’s in.

Tovar is dry, witty and pragmatic, given to some dark moments, but also loyal, while his establishment as a Spanish character adds another historical dimension to the setting. Aside from calling William amigo, he only gets one real instance of subtitled Spanish dialogue, but the context in which he does this – using it as a private language in Lin’s presence, once her ability to speak English is known – makes for a pleasing gracenote in their collective characterisation. The brief details we’re given of William’s mercenary history, fighting the Danes and Franks and Spaniards, are likewise compelling, a quick acknowledgement of the wider world’s events. It reminded me, in an odd but favourable way, of The 13th Warrior, a film which made the strange decision to cast Antonio Banderas as an Arab protagonist, but whose premise evoked a similar sense of historical intersections not often explored by the action genre.

I also appreciated Tian Jing’s subtle performance as Commander Lin, not only because her leadership of the all-female Crane Corps is objectively awesome – in the opening battle, the women stand on extended platforms beyond the Wall, bungee down on harnesses and spear monsters in the face – but because, refreshingly, not a single person in the film questions either the capabilities or the presence of the female warriors. When General Shao is mortally wounded in battle, it’s Lin he chooses to succeed him, a decision his male Commanders accept absolutely. While there’s a certain inevitable hetero tension between William and Lin, I was pleased beyond measure that this never devolves into forced romance or random kissing: by the film’s end, the Emperor has confirmed Lin as a General, William is on his way back to Europe, and while they’re both enriched by the trust they found in each other, William is not her saviour and Lin is always treated respectfully – both by William, and by the narrative itself.

(Also, The Great Wall passes the Bechdel test, because the female warriors of the Crane Corps talk to each other about something other than men, although they do still, somewhat delightfully, talk shit about William at one point. This is such a low bar to pass that it shouldn’t even merit a mention. And yet.)

Though the action slows a little at the midway point, it remains engaging throughout, while the overall film is structurally solid. As a genre, fantasy action films tend to be overly subject to fridge logic, but the plotting in The Great Wall is consistently… well, consistent. Even small details, like the role of the Kitan raiders, William’s magnet and the arc of Peng Yong’s involvement are consistently shown to be meaningful, lending the film a pleasing all-over symmetry. And visually, it’s spectacular: the Taotie are as convincing as they are terrifying (and boast a refreshingly original monster design), while the real Chinese landscapes are genuinely breathtaking. Zhang Yimou’s trademark use of colour is in full effect with the costuming and direction, lending a visual richness to a concept and setting which, in Western hands, would likely have been rendered in that same flat, drearily gritty sepia palette of greys, browns and blacks that we’ve all come to associate with White Dudes Expressing The Horror Of War, Occasionally Ft. Aliens. Instead of that, we have the Crane Corps resplendent in gorgeous blue lamellar armour, the footsoldiers in black and the archers in red, with other divisions in yellow and purple. Though the ultimate explanation for the Taotie is satisfyingly science fictional rather than magical – which, again, evokes a comparison to another historical SFF film I enjoyed, 2008’s flawed but underrated Outlander – the visual presentation remains wonderfully fantastical.

While I can understand the baseline reluctance of many viewers to engage with a film set in ancient China that nonetheless has Matt Damon as a protagonist – and while I won’t fault anyone who wants to avoid it on those grounds, or just because they dislike Damon himself – the fact that it’s a predominantly Chinese production, and that William’s character isn’t an instance of whitewashing, is very much worth highlighting. While William certainly plays a pivotal role in vanquishing the enemy, the final battle is a cooperative effort, one he achieves on absolute equal terms and through equal participation with Lin. Nor do I want to downplay the significance of Pascal’s Tovar, who represents a three-dimensional, non-stereotyped Latinx character at a point in time when that’s something we badly need more of. Indeed, given the enthusiastic response to Diego Luna’s portrayal of Cassian Andor in Rogue One, particularly the fact that he kept his accent, I feel a great disservice has been done by everyone who’s failed to mention Pascal’s front-and-centre involvement in the project.

I went into The Great Wall expecting to be mildly entertained by an ambitious muddle, and came out feeling engaged, satisfied and happy. As a film, it’s infinitely better than the structural trainwreck that was the recent Assassin’s Creed adaptation, and not just because the latter stars Michael Fassbender, the world’s most smugly punchable man. The Great Wall is colourful, visually spectacular, well-scripted, neatly characterised, engagingly paced and consistently plotted, and while I might’ve wanted to see a little more of General Shao and his offsiders or learn more about the women of the Crane Corps, that wanting is a product of the success of what I did see: the chosen focus didn’t feel narrow by construction, but rather like a glimpse into a wider, more fully-fleshed setting that was carrying on in the background. For Western audiences, William and Tovar are the outsider characters who introduce us to the Chinese setting, but for Chinese audiences, I suspect, the balance of the film feels very different.

The Great Wall is the kind of production I want to see more of: ambitious, coherent, international and fantastical. If we have to sit through the inclusion of Matt Damon this one time to cement the viability of such collaborations, then so be it. With films like La La Land and Fantastic Beasts actively whitewashing their portrayals of America’s Jazz Age, those wanting to support historical diversity could do much worse than see something which represents a seemingly intelligent, respectful collaboration between Western and Chinese storytellers. Maybe the end result won’t be for everyone, but I thoroughly enjoyed myself – and really, what more can you ask?

from shattersnipe: malcontent & rainbows http://ift.tt/2lkPiGZ via IFTTT

[entergamingxp]

King of Cards Review — Long Live the King!

December 17, 2019 2:30 PM EST

Yacht Club Games proves that their final Shovel Knight expansion, King of Cards, is no fool’s gold by making their best game to date.

It is no real secret that I love Shovel Knight. I’ve bought five copies just for myself and three more as gifts. I’ve got each soundtrack on vinyl, I’ve bought magazines with special interviews with studio, Yacht Club Games. Heck, I even did my own interview with some of the developers back in 2017 and covered the game for DualShockers at PAX East 2019.

Something that has been a secret was how I was not too hot on King Knight winning one of the Kickstarter backer polls to become one of the playable campaigns. Frankly, he seemed like the most boring choice when compared to the other knights in the Order of No Quarter. I have always had a hesitation to the decadent dandy having his own campaign, despite having the utmost faith in the overachievers that make up Yacht Club Games.

That hesitation has been replaced with enthusiasm. Shovel Knight: King of Cards is the best game in Shovel Knight: Treasure Trove. The character of King Knight soars in his jaunty tale alongside my favorite 8-bit knight gameplay to date. King of Cards is more of a sequel to the 2014 indie delight than some simple stretch goal checkbox. Yacht Club Games has outdone themselves in every single way for the grand finale.

“King of Cards is the best game in Shovel Knight: Treasure Trove.”

Set as another prequel in the Shovel Knight video game universe, King Knight is on a quest to defeat the Joustus Judges, three regal representatives of an increasingly popular card game that is sweeping all the lands. The winner will be showered in riches and could even become a king of their own. It is a simple and silly premise that aptly fits the persona of King Knight. Yacht Club Games’ pun-packed writing shines as you explore three worlds in search of treasure and glory.

The meat of the story comes from its colorful cast of characters. Traveling across the world maps lands King Knight on board of an airship that steadily fills up with tons of characters; both old and new. King Knight’s interactions with the cast, especially those with his mother, are a comedic delight. The plot is a foil to 2017’s Shovel Knight: Specter of Torment and its dark, tragic backstory. I frequently chuckled throughout the King of Cards plot as King Knight did a quest all his own way. There are plenty of delightful references throughout the game for fans that made me smile, too.

Unlike Specter of Torment, King of Cards brings back an overworld map. This is not some cut and paste with a map like that in Shovel Knight: Shovel of Hope or Shovel Knight: Plague of Shadows. This time around, Yacht Club Games took inspiration from Super Mario World. Instead of one map that reveals more of itself the more you play, there are three entire maps: Two of which are brand new two the series. Each world map is slammed with alternate paths that can only be unlocked by finding hidden alternate routes within the levels themselves. Red paths indicate that an alternate route can be found within the level. Never mandatory to advance, these hidden paths encourage you to replay levels and fully explore each dense world map. Replaying a level is equally enticing due to them being so much shorter than the previous games’ levels.

Almost every level in King of Cards contains only one checkpoint. These levels are snappy with a tight focus. Death never feels like a major setback, even if you shatter the checkpoint for the loot inside. While not as quick as respawning in platformers like Celeste or Super Meat Boy, King of Cards benefits from having the entire level be shorter. I found myself far more willing to stick with a tough challenge or to hop right back in a level to find all three Merit Medals or to hunt down a secret red path.

This short design also is far more adaptable to the numerous platforms that the game is available on. Out of the nine platforms King of Cards is available on, three of them can be played portably (3DS, Vita, and Switch). It is far more convenient to pop in and play one level or two than it has ever been for Shovel Knight. It also does not hamper the home console and PC platforms, giving players a sense of great accomplishment to complete and explore a bunch of levels in a single sitting.

“I truly love playing Joustus.”

The traditional start-to-finish levels are not the only level types packed into King of Cards. Items (dubbed heirlooms in the Shovel Knight universe) get their own short levels. They force you to use the item to complete them with an endless supply of vigor, the game’s version of mana or magic. I prefer this design rather than buying items from chests or at the hub world. It taught me practical use cases for each item I picked up. Each of these item levels also ends with a character joining your motley crew aboard the airship. I love meeting the wider cast this way. I learn about each character while accomplishing something I was setting out to do.

These heirloom levels alongside the traditional levels give players an active choice in how they want to spend their time. It keeps the game fresh over long periods of play, while giving the portable crowd a quick hit of gameplay before they have to put their console down. There is one more level type that gives folks a choice in how they want to spend their time. Actually, it’s quite more than a level type. It’s a whole other game, entirely optional, but a surprising delight worth every player’s time: Joustus.

Joustus is a grid-based, board possession focused card game. The cards have arrows that indicate which way they push other cards. Your goal is to have your card placed on the most green gem tiles by the time all the main squares have been occupied. The closest game I could relate it to is those sliding block puzzles that when arranged correctly make a picture. Joustus is more a positional puzzle than an attack/defense card game.

Each players’ deck can only have 16 cards and three are revealed to both you and the CPU at all times. This limited deck keeps Joustus from feeling overwhelming like Gwent or Pokémon TCG. The board can have a center of 2×2, 3×3, and plenty of other combinations. There is a border of “graveyard” squares where cards get pushed out to and can no longer be manipulated by players, unless a card with a special perk is used. The loser has to forfeit a card of the winner’s choosing from any card out on the board. If you happen to lose a card you wish you hadn’t, the salesman, Chester, can sell you back any card you lost, which is a nice option for completionists. Chester will also sell you cheat cards that can make the games easier, something that seems perfectly in character with King Knight. I did not use a cheat card, in part because I wanted to challenge myself, but also because there is an achievement for not using them.

I truly love playing Joustus. It triggers that puzzle solving part of my brain without having to memorize too many rules and abilities for cards with attacks and whatnot. It is simple in just the right ways, while allowing for mentally engaging rounds against the CPU. I wish there was some way to play Joustus against another person, but the Joustus houses and numerous characters on the airship offer plenty of opportunities to deck it out against foes.

“King Knight’s moves feel like an evolution of Shovel Knight’s slash and down thrust.”

As for the knight in shining armor himself, King Knight’s move set is platforming design gold. He has two main abilities that are intricately intertwined. Pressing attack will trigger a shoulder bash that dashes King Knight a set distance to either the left or the right. When King Knight makes contact with an enemy or a wall, he triggers his second move; bouncing into the air like a spinning top. This spin has the same bouncy properties of Shovel Knight’s down thrust letting players hop all around the screen. If you manage to spin off the top of an enemy or object, the shoulder bash recharges allowing you to keep the chain going.

What I love about this move pairing is the versatility of it. They work wonderfully against baddies while providing both horizontal and vertical platforming movement. If you fall into a pit and should bash into the wall, you can pop back up with the spin. Bouncing around feels incredibly precise, especially on the 8Bitdo SNES-inspired controller I was playing with. King Knight’s moves feel like an evolution of Shovel Knight’s slash and down thrust. This evolution has turned the gilded goof into my favorite knight to use.

Back with the original release of Shovel Knight back in 2014, Yacht Club Games established themselves as pixel wizards with their 8-bit vistas and iconic characters. Shovel Knight has always been a looker. King of Cards is pixelated eye candy, no matter what type of screen you are playing on. The visual design of each level is engaging. They are all connected, too. You can see a clear geographical story that is told through the visual design. You can clearly tell where one level leads into the next and where on the overworld map the level is located. It is a subtle touch that ties each level and the world-at-large together.

Yacht Club Games also got to stretch their art team to new lengths. With the inclusion of two brand new worlds, we get to see places never-before-seen in the Shovel Knight kingdom. It’s refreshing and exciting to experience, especially as a long time fan of the series.

The graphical achievement rings even louder when considering all the types of screens that King of Cards can be played on. Nine different platforms had to have become a daunting visual task. Consider the franchise’s origins on the Wii U and 3DS. The stereoscopic 3D is killer for King of Cards! It is a shame to think fewer people will get to see this effect in action the further away from the 3DS the market gets, but the 3D shines. The multiple planes bring new life to the NES aesthetic. On my New 3DS XL’s larger screen, I got a diorama feel from the 3D on full blast. It also helps separate the action by literally placing it front and center, which is a nice perk.

What about the Wii U? I mention the Wii U selfishly, because of one particular picture setting the system has—component video. You know, those green, blue, and red video cables? Because I am a mad man and my wife lets me keep a 24-inch CRT in the living room of our apartment, I decided to try playing Shovel Knight on a screen from the era that inspired it. The results filled me with a warm, fuzzy feeling of imagining a world where Shovel Knight did launch on the NES. King of Cards simply looks fantastic; no matter what screen you play it on.

“King of Cards is the crowning achievement in the long and rich history of Shovel Knight.”

Perfectly paired with the 8-bit art is composer Jake Kaufman’s chiptune soundtrack. Three expansions in, I was excited to see just how Jake would mix up his iconic Shovel Knight themes once again. Previous games expanded and built upon the themes, giving them a new edge to strike out with against your ears. For King of Cards, the themes you know and love are almost all the same. For the grand Shovel Knight finale, Jake opted to make brand new music for all the new content in King of Cards.

There are tons of new songs just for Joustus. They perfectly blend into the scene of the card game and may cause you to bob your head along while dealing out the cards. All-new themes were also made for new level themes like Troupple Pond. One classic that received a new spin was Pridemoor Keep, King Knight’s stage in the previous games. It has inspired the world map theme for the whole land of Pridemoor. Jake’s soundtrack is an exuberant delight that is a wonderful finale for Treasure Trove as a whole.

King of Cards has reinforced that age-old saying of not judging a shiny knight by his armor, even a Joustus Judge. Years of development, five total games, and countless hours of work shine through every pixel. Yacht Club Games has taken what could have been a palette swap far beyond what anyone imagined. King of Cards may be a narrative prequel to Shovel Knight, but it is truly a sequel in every way. Yacht Club Games has raised the bar for what Kickstarter stretch goals mean to their communities and the video game industry at large. King of Cards is the crowning achievement in the long and rich history of Shovel Knight. The decadent dandy proves to have more beneath that gold exterior than I ever thought could be possible. I haven’t been this happy to be proven wrong in a long time.

December 17, 2019 2:30 PM EST

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2019/12/king-of-cards-review-long-live-the-king/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=king-of-cards-review-long-live-the-king