#its nice to remember that if all else fails i at least am actively employed right now as we speak

[yo9urt]

everyone pour one out for the high paying job i talked about yesterday...their availability is very tight and does not match mine :(

[hanalwayssolo]

Somewhere Between The Music and Lyrics: Ch. 2 - End

A/N: Songs featured for this last half are: Jordan Rakei’s Eye to Eye, Justin Timberlake’s Say Something, Tori Kelly’s I Was Made For Loving You.

Tagging pals! @blindedstarlight @raspberryandechinacea @gowithme @valkyrieofardyn @emmydots @hanatsuki89 @noboomoon @lazarustrashpit @animakupo @mp938368 @boo-dangy @bleucommelhiver

(Links in AO3) Alternate Universes in Which You and I Belong Together: Noctis | Gladio | Prompto | Ignis | Nyx | Cor | Ravus | Ardyn

The primly cultivated front garden and the violet bougainvillea that crept up the walls of the house before you looks nothing like a recording studio. At least, that’s what you have assumed from all the films you’ve watched, anyway. You reread the address on your phone: 1130 Citadel Road. As far as your adequate knowledge of Downtown Insomnia is concerned—plus the guidance of Moogle Maps—you’re certainly in the right street. The numbers 1130 plastered by the metal railing clearly says you’re in the right lot, too. The only thing keeping you now from ringing the doorbell is the anxiety churning in your stomach like a raging sea. Overhead, a security camera is watching your every awkward move.

Maybe it’s not yet too late to turn back, you think.

And as soon as the thought leaves you, you hear the sound of your own voice belting out from a passing car, its windows rolled down and its speakers all the way up for the entire neighbourhood to hear.

Your fingers tighten around your phone. This is the fourth time you’ve heard yourself on someone else’s radio, and it is bloody jarring to say the least.

A part of you is still reeling in from everything that has happened ever since that video got out. Who would’ve thought that the band you admired from the comfort of your earphones would suddenly appear right outside your doorstep? And have you lost your mind that you agreed to collaborate on a song with a band as popular as The Lost Boys? You still wonder how on earth they can consider someone like you after one fucking cover when, in fact, you have no formal training in music in the first place. Besides, you have already been perfectly honest with them—with Prompto, most especially, since he had been the one most eager to know more about you—regarding your background and what you do for a living. Which, frankly, had been a tricky discussion since you’re not that fond of talking about yourself without the hint of self-deprecation. But you did manage. As succinctly as you could, you told the boys that you’re simply a bumbling corporate slave by day and a struggling songwriter by night, with hopes of consistently paying your share on rent and amenities with your pesky Internet-famous friends.

Maybe this is all a mistake, you think this time.

You glance at your phone again to check the time. Or rather, you’re hoping to see a message that they have cancelled the deal. But there’s nothing on your lock screen from any of The Lost Boys except the time that beams four-thirty p.m., a couple of unopened messages from Nyx (“u go blow their minds away but call me as soon as they fuck shit up” the initial sentence says, then followed by three eggplant emojis), Libertus (“drop by @ ostium’s tonight & we’ll celebrate!”) and a missed call from Pelna. Even with your friends’ show of support, you feel like you’re still dreaming. But what if this is really just a dream? What if right now, you’re actually still—

A low voice sneaks up behind you. “Can I help you?”

Startled out of your wits, you turn around and you find a tall man in a gray coat, eyeing you with great concern. He’s carrying a bag of groceries on one arm and a handful of books on the other. There’s something awfully familiar about his stern face, his silver-shaved head and magnetic blue eyes, that you cannot quite put a finger on it yet.

“I, uh—” you hesitate for a moment, scratching your cheek— “I don’t know if I’m in the right place, but would you know if there’s a recording studio nearby?”

“You’re actually standing in front of one.” The man flashes you an amiable smile. Your cheeks begin to burn red. Then, he says, “Wait, are you here for Prompto and the boys? I heard they’re expecting someone coming over.”

You nod. “Well… yes.”

“Perfect.” He jerks his head towards the gate. “I was just about to head inside myself. Please, come in.”

The man ushers you along the gravelly path, up the staircase, and into the blue door. Inside, you are welcomed by the sight of a lovely foyer, its pristine white walls tastefully decorated with framed photos and vinyl albums. A sharp aroma of black coffee wafts through the air. It is impossibly cold.

As the man carefully unloads his things on the center table, he tells you, “They should be in the booth right now. Follow me.”

You trail behind the man down the narrow carpeted hallway. You look around and you see more framed records hanging on the wall. You recognize some of it, and it’s like taking a stroll along an impressive hall of legends: The Beatles, Jackson 5, Joy Division, Nirvana, James Brown, Jimi Hendrix, and a few other names that you’re certain have made it in the Billboard charts. But you notice that most of the photos on a couple of shelves are that of the five-man band The Regalia, and you remember how your mother used to play their songs on the your old stereo, all because she could not get enough of Clarus’s vocals and...

The realization hits you like a speeding freight train.

“Holy fuck.”

The crispness of your words echoes throughout the corridor that the man turns around to look at you with a confused smile on his face. “Is something the matter?”

“I’m sorry. I, um… you’re...” You sigh, trying to quell your utter disbelief. Gods, how could you have been so blind? “You’re… Clarus Amicitia.”

His smile turns into an amused grin. “I am, indeed. At your humble service.” He regards you with a brief nod. “And you’re the fellow with the lovely voice.”

Your heart leaps into your throat. Gods. Did the Clarus Amicitia—living legend of the Insomnian local music scene—just call your voice lovely?

This is too much for you to handle in one day.

“Uh, well, I—um, thank you. Sir.” You smile at him, but you lower your eyes on your shoes, realizing that your words of gratitude came out in a torment. If Clarus had noticed it, he was kind enough to pretend that he didn’t.

“No need to call me sir—Clarus is fine.” He smiles again right back at you. You’re quite certain that your mother would fucking flip if she finds out about this.

As Clarus leads you to the last door at the far end of the corridor, you can already hear an indistinct melody and the swell of the bass vibrating from the room.

“Here we are,” he says, opening the door. “After you.”

Entering the studio oddly feels like stepping into a different dimension. From the homely elegance of the hallways, the whole room is an air-conditioned sanctuary of hardwood floors and neatly-arranged equipment: massive speakers, rack systems, audio mixers and soundboards, and a bunch of other controls you can hardly name. A pair of acoustic guitars are tidily displayed beside a black couch. Here, strangely enough, the air is thicker with the scent of coffee.

And here, behind the glass panel and amidst all the polish is The Lost Boys, oozing a velvety riff and a soulful tune, steered by a flawless voice that belongs to none other than Prompto.

It’s the birth of a star Earlier than sunset It’s the galaxy’s water Flowing like a riverbed

You hold your breath, immediately drawn to Prompto’s honeyed melodies and the guilt of poetry in the lyrics. Of all the times you have listened to their music, you immediately notice how the rhythm departs from their signature sound. Then again, they have been known to take risks, may it be in their own songs or otherwise.

This, you realize, is their true magic. The minutes seem to have stopped ticking. Behind you, even Clarus has fallen silent.

Yes they shine bright like a million Let them bleed twice for a minute Pleasure to have met you You’re my star tonight—

The music stutters into a halt when Prompto’s gaze falls on you, his eyes meeting yours. A bright grin spreads all over his face, and he waves a hand at you, beckoning you to join them.

Clarus waves back at the boys, and rests a hand on your shoulder. “Make yourself at home. Don’t be afraid to let me know if these grown ass men cause any trouble for you. My son, most especially,” he says cheekily. “And might I just say—“ he folds his arms over his chest, his voice now employing a pensive tone— “I’ve had the pleasure of listening to your rendition of Prompto’s song. All these years, and my ears have not failed me. I know a good singer when I hear one.”

A rush of heat rises to your cheeks. “You’re far too kind to me,” you say, unable to help the smile that tugs the corners of your mouth. You spare one look and nod at Clarus as he leaves, while you awkwardly make your way inside the booth.

As soon as you step inside, Prompto greets you with a warm hug.

“Glad you made it!” he says as he pulls away. You actively ignore how good his cologne smells, or whatever scent he is wearing. “I was starting to think you changed your mind.”

“No. Actually… well, I thought about not coming here,” you admit sheepishly. “I got really nervous.”

“Hey, don’t be!” Prompto says brightly in reassurance, looping an arm around you. Okay, he really does smell nice that you can actually forgive his lack of consideration for personal space.

“And you have nothing to be nervous about,” Noctis adds, fiddling with the strap of his bass guitar.

“Did my old man scare you on your way here?” Gladio asks from behind the drums.

“Oh, no. Not at all.” A lie, kind of. But Gladio looks like he’s buying it. To be fair, Clarus didn’t exactly scare you, though scare is synonymous to intimidate—because who wouldn’t be intimidated in the presence of Clarus fucking Amicitia? “Though he did say I should be careful of you,” you say truthfully.

Prompto and Noctis erupt in a gale of laughter. Even Ignis is amused. Gladio shakes his head and with an apologetic smile, he tells you, “Please don’t mind my dad. I promise, I’m completely harmless—”

“I think your father is less concerned with your inclination to violence and more on your inclination to romancing… well, anything that moves,” Ignis chides as he returns his electric guitar on a stand, taking a seat next to the speakers.

Prompto unloops his arm around you and rests it on your shoulder as he says, “Don’t worry about this monster—I got you." At that, you feel like your heart skipped a beat. You could only wish that you're not blushing like a fool. "Though best believe he’d flirt with a lamp post if you dress it right.”

Gladio quickly shoots Prompto a threatening glare, and then he smiles at you. “Please don’t believe them.”

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try, I guess?” You laugh, and they do, too. It’s bizarre how being around them reminds you of being around your circle of friends. You shift on your feet a little, hesitant to the comfort of their company. Then, turning to Prompto, you gingerly ask, “Um, by the way. Were you guys recording a new song earlier?”

“Oh, that?” Prompto gives you a sheepish smile. “Not really—we’re just experimenting on some of the lyrics I wrote.” His eyes widen. “Speaking of, not to put you on the spot but—” Prompto dashes to take a mic stand and sets in front of you— “I was thinking this might help you ease into… all of this.”

You glance at Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis, all three of them looking at you expectantly. You narrow your eyes at Prompto. “Are you… trying to make me sing?”

He tilts his head. “Um, yeah. What else?”

“Really? Like right now?”

“Yes, like right now.” Prompto is grinning at you. First, he smells nice and now he’s being painfully charming. “Name any song. We’d play it with you.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Any song? Seriously?”

“Yup.” Prompto laughs. “Why, you doubt we can’t play something mainstream like Rihanna? Or Queen Bey, even?”

“No, it’s not that—alright, then.” You chew on your bottom lip, and heave a long, shuddery sigh. Static rings from the microphone. You look around and out of the corner of your eye, you spot a spare guitar—in an instant you know it’s a Les Paul, gods bless your poor ass soul—sitting beside a Steinway piano. To Prompto, you say, “Can I borrow that guitar?”

He nods. “Yeah, sure.”

You take the blessed thing, equipping it as carefully as you can. You’re finding it hard to concentrate when all eyes are glued on you. Prompto, most especially. You draw a deep breath, and release your inhibitions in a loud exhale.

Then comes the crisp strum of your fingertips against the chords. The steady pace and pulse. You catch a glimpse of Prompto smiling at you, and that unmistakeable glint of recognition in his eyes. He knows the song. The rest of the boys know it, too. And as if by some form of telepathy, Gladio prepares the percussions. Ignis tunes his guitar, Noctis readies his bass. Prompto picks up another guitar to accompany you as you sing.

Everyone knows All about my direction And in my heart somewhere I wanna go there

It’s almost frightening how easily you slip into their dynamic, as if you have been a part of them for as long as can remember. You can feel yourself slowly relax, the nerves leaving your body and aptly replaced by the swelling notes. The cadence intensifies. It is when Prompto sings along with you that a jolt of electricity runs down your spine.

Everyone knows all about my transgressions Still in my heart somewhere There’s melody and harmony For you and me tonight

This, you realize, is a different kind of sorcery. His voice blends with yours so perfectly that you see Noctis and Gladio exchange wide-eyed glances. Prompto’s eyes locks on yours, and he flashes you that charming smile of his.

And all you can think to yourself is: Where have you been all my life?

Prompto knows that this was supposed to be a temporary arrangement. Still, he finds himself stealing away most of your days.

Not in a bad way, of course. After your first session with the band, he had insisted to accompany you home—quite a long walk, sure, but you said you were fond of walking and he wanted to spend more time with you—which somehow ended up with the both of you hanging out in your couch, exchanging playlists and punch lines and feasting on your Kenny Crow’s leftovers. Thankfully, your roommates didn’t seem to mind him being around the apartment, though he could not help but notice how they would purposely stay longer by the kitchen counter across the living room just to keep a watchful eye on you. Prompto found it equal parts endearing and frightening, but he really could not blame them. If he had someone like you, he would probably do the same thing.

Every second with you, he'd always find himself wanting another. So he treasures each day with you as it drifts onto the next, and all the nights that come along with it. With the limited time you spend with him in the studio writing and making music, he would make it a point to always walk you back to your place, if this is what it takes to be with you a little while longer. If he had to admit, apart from your insane talent, he adores your smile, and how it crinkles the corner of your eyes whenever you talk about your friends or any of your favourite things. He adores it even more when you do it on occasions he tells you a corny joke or two. He adores how your eyes brighten whenever your beautiful mind works its wonders into music. But he adores your laughter the most, how it's like a soothing melody he wants to listen to on repeat, so he tries to crack you up with an abundance of his silliness just to hear that bubbling laugh.

But he has seen you at your worst, too. If he could, he would trade all of his good days just for you to overcome your bad days. He’d write all the songs for you until his hands bleed, if need be.

Such a constellation are you to him. Who would have thought that his own song would lead him straight to you? But still, Prompto wishes he had the courage to say all these things. But as his adoration for you blossoms into something else, he lets his feelings known the only way he knows how: by letting the words leak into the page, letting it dry into a song.

Even though we may be hopeless hearts Just passing through Every bone screaming I don’t know what we should do All I know is, darling, I was made for loving you

You are startled to find Prompto alone in the studio, tuning his guitar.

“Where are the others?” you ask, as if by way of greeting. You drop your things by the couch, taking a seat beside him.

“Um, they’re—they went out to buy some food! Or something,” Prompto says nervously. He avoids your eyes. Weirdly, his nervousness is making you nervous, too. “I, uh—” he takes a piece of paper from his jacket and hands it to you— “I wrote down a couple of lines to complete the chorus. You wanna give it another go?”

You unfold the piece of paper and read the lyrics.

Shit. It’s beautiful. It’s too beautiful that you cannot help but wonder to whom he wrote it for. In the weeks you have known him, you’re aware that he isn’t exactly seeing anyone. The thought of the song has been written for another person makes your heart wince.

“Wow, this is… really good, Prom,” you say as evenly as you can. “I guess whoever’s on your mind when you wrote this must be a lucky person.”

Prompto looks up at you. “Well, yeah. But I think I’m luckier ‘cause I have them by my side right now.”

A strange silence settles between the two of you. The only sound you can hear is your own heart racing in what seems to be a hundred miles per hour. You want to say something, but the words are locked somewhere down your throat.

Prompto sighs. “Look, I’d totally understand if you don’t feel the same way. I just want you to know what I feel—”

“Actually, I do feel the same way,” you say. You bite your lip to stop the smile trying to escape your lips, only to fail miserably.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Are you serious—”

“Prom, if you don’t stop talking and if you don’t start kissing me right now, I’ll hate you forever.”

In that moment, he crosses the space between the two of you, cupping your face in his hands. This time, the silence sings. Its music dances at the beat of your own heart. Prompto takes his sweet time as he presses a kiss on your forehead, traveling down to the tip of your nose, and slowly but surely, his lips finally finding yours.

[lacquerware]

2017 Recap Part 1: LTTPs

::UPDATE:: Added DARIUSBURST: Chronicle Saviours! 

It’s time we acknowledged there are too damned many games, and too many of them are spectacular. If nuclear war breaks out tomorrow and all video game production ceases permanently, I’ve still got a mountain of unplayed masterpieces high enough to keep me entertained until death, even if I manage to immigrate to an underground survival vault and only die of natural causes many decades later.

Unless that happens, I fear I’ll never even come close to playing ‘em all. I certainly didn’t play all of 2017’s must-plays in 2017. I did, however, catch up on a few greats from years past. Here are my favorite non-2017 games I played in 2017. 

The Last Guardian

Despite spending the better part of a decade acting like an absentee father, The Last Guardian so splendidly averted disappointing me—and on the heels of a year whose running theme was disappointment—that it almost mended some deep, long-broken thing inside my soul—the part that is always whispering, “Expect the worst.” My 2016 sure could’ve used TLG at the end of it, but as it stands, it made for a strong start to 2017. I could follow that sentence with a lot of cynical things about how 2017 turned out, but as far as gaming is concerned, 2017 was one of the most triumphant years in recorded history.

I already wrote at length about my experience with The Last Guardian, but I’ll just reiterate the main takeaway: the game made me feel a personal connection with an in-game character. This is something almost all modern games attempt and fail at (for me). In TLG, connecting with Trico is the game. You achieve the connection through doing and experiencing—not through watching conversations unfold or making superficial dialogue selections. In this way, it demonstrates a base understanding of the merits of the video game medium that I feel many modern games miss. Fumito Ueda’s oft-noted influence from Another World is clear to see here; the action is the story, and Trico and the Boy’s evolving relationship is almost a wholesale recreation of that between Another World’s protagonist and alien buddy (Ico of course did this as well, right down to the hanging cage escape). The Last Guardian and Another World should both be required playing for aspiring designers or anyone who wants to better understand the medium.

 --------------------------

Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag

Ubisoft, to me, is the headquarters of Western game design. I can’t believe how big and feature-rich and user-friendly their games are. They are less “games,” more comprehensive simulations of specific identity fantasies, like “assassin” or ��hacker” or “Italian.” They want to let you do everything. 

But also, they want to be the user’s best friend. They will betray their own painstakingly achieved immersion if it means letting the player cram a little more fun into the two hours a week they have to dedicate to gaming between work, parenting, studying, and such. 

That is why in Ghost Recon: Wildlands—ostensibly a game about US grunts gittin’ ‘er done and surviving the Bolivian wilderness—still lets you teleport anywhere at will, or change your loadout or upgrade your arsenal at any time, from anywhere, with no explanation. The explanation is understood: “It’s supposed to be fun.” I respect these decisions. Games are fun when they’re fun.

The problem is that many of their games are peppered with shallow activities which employ the cheap but powerful thrill of checklist psychology, and after awhile all their different franchises start to feel like one ongoing subscription to Highlights Magazine. How many Ubi games are going to challenge me to climb a tower that was designed only to be climbed? Is this any more a challenge than connecting a series of numbered dots in the order they’re numbered?

And yet, part of me still loves climbing those damn towers.

Assassin’s Creed: Black Flag is very much a Ubisoft Highlights Magazine game, but it’s also gaming’s quintessential pirate simulator and as such, one of gaming’s most distinct and necessary sandboxes. Pirates, like cowboys and ninjas and sneaker hedgehogs, were just meant to be a video game premise, and just as Red Dead Redemption did for cowboys, Black Flag lets you live out just about any pirate fantasy Hollywood might have planted in your childhood brain. Until Ubi makes a sequel, that makes Black Flag THE pirate game, as well as Assassin’s Creed’s most deviant installment (full disclosure: it’s the only one I’ve spent significant time with, but I am pretty sure I’m right). Your being an assassin feels like merely a convenient side effect of being a bloodthirsty pirate, leaving you free to focus on more thrilling pursuits like sieging island fortresses and rope-swinging onto enemy ships to singlehandedly thin out their crew to the point of surrender. What a joyous fantasy they have created here.

  --------------------------

Yakuza 5 (and 4)

I bought Yakuza 5 in Japan in 2014 after hearing part of the game takes place in my beloved Nagoya. (Go Dragons!) Well, I sat on that copy of Yakuza 5 until PlayStation Plus subscribers received both Yakuza 4 and 5 for free, and then I sat on it some more. At the start of 2017, as Yakuza 0 released and the series finally started to get the praise it probably deserved in the West, I suddenly remembered that these games were supposed to be good, and that part of 5 takes place in Nagoya, and finally I vowed to play through 5 before the end of 2017. 2017 is ending now, and I still haven’t done that. If I were a yakuza, I guess I’d have to like, lose a pinky joint or something.

I did try. But I figured I should start with Yakuza 4 to minimize my knowledge gap, and then it turned out that these games are tremendously long. Yakuza 4 was pretty fun sometimes, and also malevolently tedious at others. I found myself annoyed with the things I expected to like and quite taken with the things I expected to find insipid. Though the combat had its charms, it also had lots of annoying shit that made it feel bad. Lots of things knock you down, and getting up takes one thousand real-life years. Grappling is almost completely useless after the first couple hours. Critical elements which shouldn’t be locked behind an upgrade wall, are.

On the other hand, the hostess club minigame, which I fully expected to be an embarrassing blemish on the experience which ensured I would never be able to play the game with my wife in the room, turned out to be weirdly tasteful and compelling. I started the tutorial mission with my eyes rolling, and five minutes later my wife and I were having an earnest, spirited discussion about how we should do so-and-so’s makeup.  

Unfortunately, Yakuza 4 suffers from some pretty severe obtuseness. By the time I took control of the third protagonist, I was more interested in pursuing the hostess club subplot than the main storyline (which was surprisingly engaging but simply too long and twisty). But early on in the hostess club questline, a colleague sends you to the streets to hustle for new customers, giving you only the vaguest hints about where to go and what to do. After a full hour of fruitlessly patrolling points A, B, and C in search of anything worthwhile, I just gave up on the whole thing and ended up rushing through the rest of the game. When I finished, I was bewildered to learn that I had only completed “2%” of the game. Two percent?! Welllll fuck it.

Anyway, I did start Yakuza 5 and was delighted at how immediately better it looked and felt than its predecessor. I’m still in the first area with the first protagonist (of freaking FIVE), but the fighting is already more fun, and the dumb side stuff more readily accessible. And above all else, it does something I’ve never seen in a video game: it gives you a car, but demands that you follow the rules of the road. I don’t understand the science or the psychology here--but it’s fun.

Maybe in 2018 I’ll see Nagoya.

--------------------------

(Image courtesy of Mobygames)

Castlevania Chronicles

I distinctly remember this game reviewing kind of poorly in certain publications, for the crimes of being too hard and too old-fashioned. The reviews also mentioned it was a port and a reworking of a remake of the original Castlevania which had first appeared on something called the X68000, and that was all convoluted enough to scare me away for the next sixteen years, despite very good box art.

I finally checked it out this year after grabbing it on a PSN sale for between one and two bucks, and now it seems to me that the “Arrange Mode” version of the game is actually one of the more fair and visually attractive moments in Classic Castlevania. A nice way to fill the ongoing Castlevania void (though I’m pretty sure that void is permanent).

 --------------------------

DARIUSBURST: Chronicle Saviours

Shoot-‘em-ups are the jazz of video game genres. Without ‘em, none of the other stuff that followed would’ve happened, but you still sound like a boring old dinosaur when you start name-dropping the old hits, and to be any good at them you have to be some kind of crazed savant with a mechanical brain and clockwork fingers. Or at least that’s the image.

Like jazz, shoot-‘em-ups still occupy a tiny, neglected corner of the party like obligatory chaperones. Most of the time they cost too much to convert anyone who isn’t already a fan of the genre, or even secure a sale from anyone with less than a hardcore personal investment in saving them from extinction. At least jazz has public-funded radio to work with. Shmups come out about once per decade per franchise, but the new ones still slip onto shelves at a full $59.99 price point as though they’re just like any other modern gaming franchise. To borrow a jazz lyric, something’s gotta give something’s gotta give something’s gotta give.

DARIUSBURST first came out on PSP, where I guess it was just a standard Darius, meaning you were a spaceship that shot exclusively at flying robot sea creatures. The Vita/PS4/PC upgrade, Chronicle Saviours, is by far the most justified shmup I’ve played of the last couple generations. It is fun, visually slick, digestible, and brimming with fan service for your shmuploving grampa.

I’ve only bothered with the Chronicle Saviours version of the game, which divides everything into little bite-sized branching missions on a progression tree, and every attempt you make awards points which can be used to buy ships, each of which changes the core gameplay mechanics in some way.

I like that the missions are so tiny and boss-centric. Many of them are just bosses, and although you repeat the same bosses over and over, they are such awesome sights to behold and so challenging to master that I am game for the repetition. The bosses also all seem to have variant types similar to Monster Hunter, and come to think of it, this is sort of the Monster Hunter of shmups. Lots of games are now the Monster Hunter of something.

Chronicle Saviours also introduces the “Burst Counter,” a risk-reward mechanic which challenges you to time a beam shot in sync with the enemy’s beam shot. When you succeed, your reward is a clash of beams that makes you feel like a ninja dueling atop a tightrope.

The thing that first sold me on the game—and I’ve never said this before ever—was the DLC. What Taito has done is just released a bunch of content packs which pay homage to beloved shmups of old, divided by publisher. There’s a Sega pack, a Capcom pack—even a Taito pack. Each one gives you access to old ships inspired by all the games that made me a shmuploving dinosaur in the first place—Layer Section, Space Harrier, Section Z, and on and on. And when I say “inspired,” I mean they use the actual names of the games and ships and stick those other games’ shooting mechanics into DARIUSBURST. It’s an unexpectedly explicit and thorough ode to some decades-old classics. Something about seeing a Layer Section logo in HD in 2017 (though Chronicle Saviours came out in 2015) feels like a triumph over the odds, like hearing your favorite unknown band on the soundtrack to a summer blockbuster or hit TV series.

--------------------------

Earth’s Dawn

In a year in which I failed to play several of the most lauded games which released, including several that I already owned, it is downright silly that I made any time for Earth’s Dawn, which is an indie Japanese niche action title, but on second thought, I’m exactly the person who should’ve made time for Earth’s Dawn. That said, I only played it for a single session. Still, it’s weird and cool enough to deserve mention here, especially since it has been completely invisible since its release to PSN in 2016.

Earth’s Dawn is a 2D action game with bite-sized, quest-based progression and a loot and crafting system, all of which echo games like Monster Hunter. I keep seeing it compared to Metroidvanias, but this is a superficial comparison based solely on its being 2D and having a map. Metroidvanias are about exploration of unknown terrain. Earth’s Dawn is about fighting different enemy types and formations on a series of quickly learnable, compact boards, and getting resources for your trouble. It’s Monster Hunter. More accurately still, it's Mercenary Kings. It's really not Metroid at all. 

The combat feels like many of the recent wave of 2D “jugglers” like Odin Sphere or Shank or The Dishwasher. Honestly, I don’t ask for much more than that, but the game also has some pretty slick, colorful art, and a compelling cherry-on-top twist on its familiar structure: a countdown timer sits at the top of your mission and upgrade hub (just a set of menus), clicking down as you attempt to upgrade your character through missions and crafting. Once the timer expires, you must attempt a “Counter-Offensive” mission, which is a little meatier than your standard missions and culminates with a boss fight. So the game becomes a race to strengthen yourself enough to take on the boss before the timer runs out. This is reminiscent of one of my all-time favorites, Valkyrie Profile, and a clever way to give the entire experience a greater sense of importance and purpose, and also help prevent endless grinding.

Earth’s Dawn is just pretty enough, slick enough, and weird enough. Decidedly Lacquerware.

-------------------------- 

Mitsurugi Kamui Hikae

Two things are true of all my favorite combat-driven action games: 1) they give me an actual, literal adrenaline boost, and 2) they would be just as fun in a blank chamber with no such thing as level design.

MKH tests and supports this claim. It makes me wonder if games like Devil May Cry are actually any better for all their exposition and exploration and platforming. MKH is much like other "stylish action" or "character action" games, but dispenses entirely with the levels. All you do is cut suckas on a flat circle of terrain. But the combat is so fun and satisfying, the minimalism just means a faster track to that adrenaline kick. I played through MKH in one sitting and immediately began another. 

2017 was a great comeback year for flashy melee action, but MKH may well have been the only respectable installment in the genre in 2016 (PS4 release). Any fans of the genre would be remiss not to play it.

-------------------------- 

Lost Planet 2

I’ve been a vocal LP2 fan since shortly after its release in 2010, so I'm technically not late to this party at all, but I need to toot its horn again. It is one of Capcom’s more misunderstood titles and came right at the brink of Capcom’s several-year-long identity crisis, which caused shit like Operation Raccoon City and DmC to happen (for the record: I love DmC). But I maintain an assertion that much of the game’s criticism was the result of misplaced expectations; people thought they were getting a space marine shooter—instead they got Monster Hunter with rad future shit, but in 2010 everybody here still hated Monster Hunter. I suspect the world is a lot more ready for LP2’s wild ride now than they were then, and the about-to-be-massive-success of Monster Hunter: World is all the proof you need.

I replayed LP2 in its entirety this year. Twice. I’m still unlocking new stuff, and most of it is cool: most recently, I got some grenades that let you open portals where you throw them (kind of like the portal gun in Portal), a shotgun that shoots confetti (and does more damage than any other shotgun), and a whole bunch of goofy dance emotes. I could (and eventually will) gush at great length about LP2, but for now I’ll just say that, yet again, it was one of the most enjoyable gaming experiences of the year. The Lost Planet games are the only internally-developed Capcom games of the previous generation that haven’t been rereleased, so, uh, we can probably expect an eventual rerelease. Yay! If I'm right, this time don’t miss it.

Next up: Bests of 2017!

[damaless]

Instead Of Getting Hit, Don’t

Chapter Fourteen: A Step Toward Restoration

The Hydra is laughably easy to defeat when its numbers advantage is taken away. After Shouto gives a quick explanation of how to tell which heads have what capabilities — A red-horned one got you that time, did it? Izuku’s voice echoes in his mind as he relays the information to the group (he hadn’t even noticed they had distinct horn colors, at that point) — they pair off and handle each of its heads independently, and it doesn’t stand a chance.

“Well fought, everyone,” he says, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. Maybe they can actually do this.

Hanta grins. “It’s almost too easy, with how well you know the strengths and weaknesses of everything we could possibly face down here.”

Hitoshi rolls his eyes. “Would you rather he leave us in the dark so we can figure it out for ourselves? Make it a little more interesting for you?”

Hanta raises his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m just saying, it’s nice having someone around with practically encyclopedic knowledge.”

Shouto smiles faintly. There’s really only one person to thank for that, and it’s not him. If they appreciate this level of detail, they’ll really enjoy talking to Izuku.

Their progress through Asphodel is going smoothly, with his mother’s power allowing him to lower the temperature from nigh-unbearable to downright comfortable. According to his books of lore, it had been a fairly nice place before the River Phlegathon had overflowed and flooded it with lava.

Maybe cooling it down is a step towards restoring the place to a semblance of its former self. Perhaps he’s managed to do something productive in this, even if he ends up failing miserably at his overall quest. No guarantee the effect will last if he’s gone, though.

“Thanks for this, Shouto,” Tsu says, combing ash out of her hair with her fingers. “I wouldn’t have lasted long in that horrible dry heat.”

Ugh, right. He is an asshole — or, at least, an inconsiderate person — despite what Denki might believe. With all the wonderful abilities Tsu gains from the creatures of her Domain, some weaknesses apply. He should have remembered her sensitivity to extreme temperatures and insisted she stay back at Olympus, no matter how invaluable an asset she’s been.

He grimaces. “Maybe you should go back. Endeavor won’t hesitate to target you with his flames.”

She just blinks her large eyes at him. “What would going back home now accomplish? If he kills me, I’ll just end up there anyway. I’m going to see this through with you.”

He frowns. He’s been through ‘just dying and waking up at home’ enough times to know he doesn’t want anyone he cares about to go through it unnecessarily. He doesn’t want to watch anyone he cares about go through it.

Tsu sighs. “I’ll be careful, okay?” She taps him under the chin. “Cheer up, Shouto. We’re doing well!”

He echoes her sigh, and shakes himself. She’s right. He needs to be grateful for everything that has gone favorably so far, needs to keep his morale up.

It’s almost… enjoyable, watching Iida charge at targets other than him for once. With the lava cooled to rock form, the Witches and Gorgon Heads have nowhere safe to retreat to, and Iida easily overtakes them.

Even Aoyama manages to make himself moderately useful when they reach an enclosed area — he spins his spear reaching most of the enemies without even needing to step away from his position in the center of the room.

Shouto doesn’t ask for it, but Mezou, Tsu, and Ochako take up the area immediately around him, preventing anything from getting anywhere near him. In close quarters, he’s embarrassingly vulnerable.

Having friends actively protecting him is such a stark contrast to the thousands of hours he’d spent with everything and everyone around him trying to kill him — it’s dizzying. Can this really be his life, now?

“You good, Shouto?” Ochako says, over her shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, faintly. “I’m okay.”

***

They reach Tartarus faster than he could have imagined — the House itself is so close, now. His body seems to be struggling to decide between the impulse to flee, knowing his father will be there waiting, and quivering in anticipation of reaching his goal.

Either way, he’s shaking as they approach the threshold. Will he have to kill Momo again? Will she resent him for making her face him one more time?

Torchlight flickers between the stonework pillars lining the walls, casting shifting shadows across the floor. It’s an unsettling effect; more so because it makes it even harder to make out where it’s safe to step. A misplaced foot in Tartarus often means spike through the leg or an arrow through the side from a hidden opening in a nearby statue.

At the moment, that seems to be the only worry. Momo is nowhere to be seen, along with her abrasive comrade.

“Iida,” Shouto says, carefully picking his way forward across the treacherous ground. “What are the chances they’re waiting for us at the far end of Tartarus, just outside the House itself? Like you were waiting at the border of Asphodel and Elysium?”

Iida hums thoughtfully. “Yuuga and I chose to face you there in order to maximize the opportunity for you to be weakened in prior combat. It’s certainly possible that Momo would employ the same line of reasoning.”

Shouto nods. It makes sense. But it won’t make a difference. Momo and Katsuki had managed to kill him their share of times, but now? With all of his allies here with him? They won’t stand a chance. He’d feel guilty, but it’s past time for someone else to be on the less favorable side of an unfair fight.

“However,” Iida continues, and Shouto looks at him. “By now, your father will most likely have received word that you are on your way back to the House, and if that carried with it information about the forces you have brought with you…” He trails off.

“You think he might have called in reinforcements,” Shouto finishes the thought.

Iida nods. “The responsibilities of the Lord of the Underworld are far-reaching, as you know. Momo and Katsuki are just two of the Furies serving your father in the capacity of administering punishments to the damned. There are several others, or so I am told.”

Shouto sighs. Maybe it will be a fair fight after all.

***

A familiar-looking boulder looms large up ahead, and Shouto allows himself to smile.

“Bouldy, I’ve missed you!” he calls, picking up his pace. As much as he might dread the fight they are inevitably marching towards, the weight on his shoulders is a little lighter at the prospect of seeing Kirishima again and receiving a dose of his endless optimism.

He hears a few instances of ‘Bouldy?’ being muttered behind him.

Kirishima is perched on a step, chin resting in his hands.

“It’s good to see you,” Shouto starts, but his grin fades when Kirishima turns his face, revealing wide, strained eyes.

“Shouto,” Kirishima says, blinking. “So, that’s what that was about.”

“What’s what what was about?” Shouto frowns. In all the time they’ve known each other, Kirishima has never looked so serious.

Kirishima raises his eyebrows. “You must have really pissed him off this time.”

“Yeah?” That’s nothing new. Of course his father is angry that he’s disobeying him again. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, just the twenty or so Furies that passed through here earlier heading towards the House,” Kirishima replies, faintly, absently fidgeting with the chain leading from his ankle to the boulder.

Twenty? He’d anticipated a handful more, in addition to Momo and Katsuki, but twenty? How could he have never come across any of them before? Why wouldn’t his father have used them to help prevent him from escaping? Arrogance, thinking that Shouto would never manage to defeat him?

“Did they hurt you?” Shouto asks, frowning.

“No.” Kirishima shakes his head. “But if you’re planning to get into the House, I’m worried about what you’ll be facing — though it looks like you won’t be alone, at least.”

Introductions are made, and Kirishima is looking a little more himself by the end of it, cheerful smile back on his face.

“I wish I could help, but I’m a little tied down at the moment.” Kirishima grins ruefully, nudging Bouldy with his foot.

Ochako taps a finger against her mouth, conspicuously eyeing the boulder. She smiles wide, a hint of viciousness in the glint of her teeth. “I may be able to do something about that for you.”

Read this chapter on Ao3

Read from the beginning

[jeroldlockettus]

Extra: Richard Branson Full Interview

Richard Branson left school at 15 and founded what would grow to become the multinational Virgin Group. (Photo: Gilberto Cardenas/flickr)

What follows is a conversation with Richard Branson, founder of the international conglomerate the Virgin Group. Stephen J. Dubner spoke with Branson in November for our special series, “The Secret Life of a C.E.O.” We will be releasing full interviews from that series as bonus episodes — one a week for the next six weeks. You’ll hear our lightly edited conversations with Mark Zuckerberg of Facebook, Satya Nadella of Microsoft, and others. Hope you enjoy.

Stephen DUBNER: Hello this is Stephen Dubner. Is that Richard Branson?

Richard BRANSON: I am. I’m Richard Branson. Yeah. Nice to talk to you.

DUBNER: It’s nice to talk to you, too. Thank you so much for making the time. How’s things?

BRANSON: Everything’s very good, thank you. I’m sitting here with a cup of tea in my hand and I wish we were talking in person. But anyway, nice to talk to you.

DUBNER: All right, so let’s begin. If you would just literally say your name and what you do.

BRANSON: Yeah. My name is Richard Branson and what do I do? I do everything Virgin.

DUBNER: Now, I’m sure most of our listeners are quite familiar with you, but just pretend there’s someone out there who lives in a cave who’s never heard of Richard Branson. How would you describe yourself to them — at least your professional self?

BRANSON: Well, I am an entrepreneur, I suppose you would also categorize me as an adventurer, and, hopefully, a philanthropist. So those are sort of my three main areas of occupation these days.

DUBNER: A tangential and very small question but one that I am curious to know. The Virgin logo is one of the most recognizable in the world, and I would argue one of the most elegant, as well. I’ve read a little bit about its history — I know it came from Virgin Records, and Roger Dean was the original designer, and then it morphed over the years. But can you just talk for a moment about the logo itself, and what it means to you, I guess?

BRANSON: Yes. I mean, I was 16 when I started off in business. So I was a virgin at business. And we were either going to call the company Slipped Disc records or Virgin Records. And fortunately we went Virgin, because Slipped Disc Airlines would not have been a great success, I think. And we started with a fairly, sort of hippie-based looking logo by Roger Dean. And then when we signed the Sex Pistols, we felt the logo was not going to be appropriate. And so we got somebody into the office, and we talked at great lengths about what we wanted. And I stood up to go to the loo, and I walked past him and he just scribbled on a napkin the Virgin logo. He just signed the word “Virgin,” and I said, “You don’t have to do anything more. We have our logo.” And it became the iconic logo of the last 50 years.

DUBNER: Was it in red originally?

BRANSON: I think the original scribble — I can’t remember whether he scribbled it in — with a red biro or a black biro. But anyway, it became red from day one. And we were fortunate to get that bold, bold, bold, color and the bold logo. Just very simple. I mean, it can be used tiny. It can be used large. You know, we’re just building three enormous cruise ships. And I’ve just seen the logo on the side. And it works, really, whatever size.

DUBNER: You know, obviously it’s not your last name. It doesn’t say Branson. But Virgin has come to mean almost Branson. I’m just curious, what is it — what does it feel like for you to see that logo on all these different things, whether small or you know, cruise ship size?

BRANSON: Well, I still pinch myself. I mean, I still get enormous satisfaction if somebody comes up to me and, say, they’ve just flown on a Virgin Atlantic or a Virgin America plane, and had a wonderful experience, or you know, worked out in about a Virgin Active club or being on a Virgin train, or booked a ticket on Virgin Galactic. And you know, I must admit, I sometimes think I’m going to wake up one day and just realize I’ve just had the most incredible dream. And I’ll be — you know, well, hopefully back as a poor student again one day. And starting all over again. But, yes, I’ve been very fortunate. I’ve had a extraordinary life. Just finished publishing my second autobiography, so that’s — I suppose — says it’s been pretty full. And yeah, it’s been an incredible ride, so yes. But — I appreciate every minute of it.

DUBNER: Now, your title — your official title, as far as I can tell, is “Founder, Virgin Group.” In addition to that, are you the C.E.O. of anything?

BRANSON: I used to be. But I’ve delegated pretty well all the C.E.O. roles. And I actually believe that people should delegate early on in their businesses, so they can start thinking about the bigger picture. If I’m ever giving a talk to a group of young businesspeople, I will tell them you know, go and take a week out to find somebody as good or better than yourself. Put yourself out of business, and let them get on and run your business day to day, and then you can start dealing with the bigger issues, and you can take the company forward into bigger areas, and you can — maybe if you’re an entrepreneur, you can start your second business or your third business. And so I think too many young entrepreneurs want to cling on to everything, and they’re not good delegators.

DUBNER: But it’s true also — at least I would argue, I’m curious to hear your take — that, you know, I think in the public perception, there’s sometimes not that much difference between the entrepreneur and the C.E.O. But in fact, the energy and the ideas and even the personality of the person who creates the firm is often very different from the energy and so on of the person to be executing and running the firm daily. Do you see that split in that way? Or do you think that’s a little bit of a misperception?

BRANSON: I think it’s more often than not that you’re correct. There are exceptions to the rule. I mean for instance, when we had a record company in Germany many years ago, the person who actually ran the record company was a true C.E.O. He was not an entrepreneur. He was great with people. He didn’t want to stray from his job of running the record company. And he did a fine job. Whereas in France, we had a guy called Patrick Zelnik, who was a C.E.O. but he was also an entrepreneur and he took the record company into Virgin Megastores, into all sorts of different businesses, a bit like myself. And he pulled it off. But you know, once he’d become a true entrepreneur, you know, the two of us sat down, and he then just found other people to be the C.E.O.’s who were perhaps less entrepreneurial, who would stick to their onions and do the day to day running well. Because it’s difficult to concentrate on looking after your people and also be, being an entrepreneur.

DUBNER: I know that once, when you were asked how involved you are in the mechanics of your businesses, you said, “I don’t understand these things completely,” and you said, “I’ve never been able to know the difference between net and gross.” I’m guessing you were exaggerating at least a little bit, or no?

BRANSON: Well, I’m quite badly dyslexic. And really bizarrely, it was on my 50th birthday that I was having a meeting with a group of executives. And I asked the question, “Is that good news or bad news?” when some figures were given to me. And one of the executives took me outside of the room and he had already prepared himself for this: he had a — some coloring pencils and he had a blank sheet of paper. He colored in this piece of paper blue, and then he put a net — a fishing net amongst it. And he put little fish in the fishing net. And he said, “Richard, I don’t think you know the difference between net and gross, and let me simplify it for you. The fish in the net are your profit. And the — all the fish that are not on the net are your gross turnover.” And hey, presto, I got it. And ever since then, I’ve been very swankily saying, “net profit and gross turnover.” As if nobody else knew it before. But the bizarre thing is that by then we had the biggest group of private companies in Europe. And I’d managed to build all these companies without knowing it. And I think that should be reassuring for all those kids who are failing their maths exams. It actually doesn’t matter a damn. What matters is, you know, have you created the best company, the best airline, or the best record company? And the best train company. And if you have created the best, your figures will add up at the end of the year, and you’ll have more money coming in than going out, and you can employ some accountants to work out the difference between net and gross.

DUBNER: Now, maybe it’s — maybe you’re a fluke, or maybe it’s a bit of a generational thing, maybe the world has just changed a lot. But you know, management has obviously become very, very professionalized in the last 20 or 30 years. And you know, M.B.A. programs are just exploding everywhere, there’s so — and so now, to be the C.E.O. of even a very small company, one is expected to be extremely well drilled in all the things that it sounds like you’ve really never had to be very good at. Do you think that that professionalization of leadership is in some ways a mistake, that someone like you had a lot of instinct and energy and appreciation for what you are trying to do with the company, and that some of that gets killed off by this professionalization of the leadership class?

BRANSON: I think it can be. I think if you feel a little bit lost in a company because of that should spur you on just to get out and run your own company. I mean, I’ve never had to report to anybody since I was — well, since I left school at 15. And that’s a luxury. And you know, I can do foolish things like, “Let’s start a spaceship company.” Which, you know, if I was working for a public company or a normal company, I would never have got it through. And so the great thing about being an entrepreneur — I think entrepreneurs are a class unto themselves. You know, they do not need that professionalism. They need a passion, absolute passion for what they’re doing. They need an absolute belief in what they’re doing. They need to be wonderful motivators of people. Inspirational leaders. And you know, those are sort of the key things that they need.

DUBNER: Can you talk a little bit more about being a wonderful motivator of people? By all reports, everything I read about you, it sounds as though most of the people who work with you and for you really like you. And that you — I don’t know about, go out of your way to treat your co-workers well, but you have a lot of policies that are very employee-friendly and so on. I think a lot of people out there, bosses — whether they’re C.E.O.’s or down — they’d like to be like that, and they’d like to motivate people. But it’s hard. Do you have any secret advice?

BRANSON: Well I mean, I think, I find that some American companies are anything but good at motivating people.  And I find that hard to understand, because if you’ve got a happy, motivated group of people you’re working with, you can achieve anything. And you know, you can ride the good times together, you can ride the bad times together. If you treat your people badly, they’re not going to go that extra mile when things get tough. I just think you should treat your people in the same way that you treat your family. I mean, however you would treat your brothers and sisters or your children, the same should apply exactly to the people you work with. And it’s so much more pleasant. I mean you know, I mean a lot of our time we spend at work, and work should be fun. It should be enjoyable. And you should also have policies that follow through with that, so you know, if people want to work from home, let them work from home. If people want to work from home on Fridays and Mondays, let them work from home Fridays and Mondays. If people want to take a month off and go around the world, let them take a month off and go around the world. I mean, people will give everything back if you give them the flexibility and treat them like adults.

DUBNER: I hear you and I so want to believe that that’s the way to be. But the sceptic in me just thinks well, if every company let everybody work from home Fridays and Mondays and let them take a week off and go take balloon trips or climb a mountain that, you know, productivity would plummet and economy would fall apart. Why do people not exploit that, at your firm, at least?

BRANSON: Because they feel trusted.  And also, look — let’s just look at this business of forcing people to come to an office. First of all, you’ve got maybe an hour or an hour and a half of travel time in the morning, another hour and a half of travel time in the evening. And, you know, when you’re at the office, it’s important that you say hello to everybody and that you’re friendly with everybody, so you use up another hour or two, you know, socializing with people. Then, because you’re not at home, you need to communicate with your family. So you spend another bit of time communicating with your family. And so the day carries on and you might get a couple hours of work done. If you’re at home, you know, you wake up. You can spend a bit of time with your family. And be a proper father, which is perhaps the most important — or mother — most important things that we can do in our life. But you can also find the time to get whatever your job is done, because you’ve got another four or five hours free to do it. And you know, we’ve never been let down by people that we’ve given that trust to. I think treating people as adults, giving people trust, is so important. And I mean — I’ll just give you one other example — slightly different. But I mean, we have a policy of giving ex-prisoners a second chance, and taking on as many people who’ve been imprisoned as possible into our Virgin companies. Because we give them that trust, not one of them have ever re-offended. And, we’re talking, you know like in Virgin Trains, I think we have 35 people. Well, the person who is head of our security at Virgin Trains, she comes out of prison on a Monday morning, works until Friday night, goes back to prison for the weekend, comes out. But she’s absolutely brilliant at her job. And somebody who will do everything they can for the company because the company has given them that second chance.

DUBNER: You have started and sold and shut down and grown many, many, many companies. Can you talk just for a moment about your overall win/loss record? I’m curious to know if you actually have ever tallied up the successes versus failures.

BRANSON: I haven’t. I mean we’ve never had a company go bankrupt. Because our reputation is everything. And we believe that if you can afford to, if a company is not working out, you must settle all your debts. And so you know, we’ve never had a bankruptcy, and that’s in 50 years, so we’re proud of that. And I think that’s really helped keep the reputation of Virgin. But obviously over 50 years things change. So you know, give you a very good example. We started off with record shops. And we built maybe 300 record shops around the world, Virgin Megastores. And then iTunes came along, and the internet came along, and people, sadly, didn’t see the need to go into record shops anymore. And so, we either sold or closed down most of those 300 record shops. There’s still a few left in the Middle East but that’s about it now. But, you know, that spurred us on to move into mobile phones and into new technology that was evolving. So rather — if mobile phones was going to put us out of business, cause — and games — people — a lot of kids were spending more time on games than music, then it was up to us to embrace it, and so we embraced that instead. And I think, you know, fortunately we’ve been ahead of the game over the last 50 years. So by and large, we’ve had many more successes than we’ve had things which we’ve had to say goodbye to.

DUBNER: Now, a lot of the businesses you’ve been in, including some of the ones you just mentioned there, are not businesses that you build from scratch, or even really necessarily run from the ground up, but they’re more partnerships. And the way you do business — and the Virgin Group is a little bit different than many other firms — you call it branded venture capital. Talk to me just about how that works and whether it was a happy accident or is that something that you decided strategically to pursue a long time ago?

BRANSON: Well, I think just to be slightly more accurate, we’ve generally speaking started by owning pretty well every company. So we start with 100 percent ownership in the companies. And then over the years, in order to then invest in new entrepreneurial ventures that I may have come up with, we’ll sell shares in the companies that we started. And sometimes we’ve sold 100 percent. But we keep a brand royalty in everything. So — and we keep in touch with the Virgin brand, we monitor the Virgin brand. We have a team of people who monitor it to make absolutely certain that anybody who’s running a Virgin company respects the fact that our reputation, for all of us, is all we’ve got. So generally speaking we’ll start with 100 percent ownership and then maybe over the years we’ll settle down and then put that money into new ventures.

DUBNER: Thank you for that clarification. Was that the case with Virgin Mobile? Was that a little bit different or no?

BRANSON: So Virgin Mobile, we own 50 percent of the company. So with Virgin Mobile, we didn’t have the resources to build out a network, and we also didn’t think that would be our strength. What our strength was, was marketing to the public, and the brand, and the whole proposition. So we did a deal with a company called T-Mobile and they took 50 percent of the company. They gave their infrastructure — their masks. And then we ran it on a day-to-day basis. We put the team in. And yeah, we built a pretty formidably successful company. And then we merged it with the biggest cable company in the U.K. And it became Virgin Media. So that’s how that worked out. And I actually — my new book, Finding My Virginity, I tell the story of how our partners in that one actually were, in our opinion, naughty boys and tried to steal the company from us. But anyway, we fortunately won quite a big court case on that.

*      *      *

DUBNER: Talk about your strategy for choosing the right C.E.O. for a Virgin firm.

BRANSON: Oh, Helen? Could I have another cup of tea? Thank you. Sorry, just being British, order some tea. Say that again?

DUBNER: No, take your time. I’d like to know your strategy for choosing the C.E.O. of a Virgin firm. What do you — what do you look for? How do you — how does the process work, and so on?

BRANSON: Well, we — first of all, ideally, we’d like to promote from within, because I think there’s nothing more discouraging for, say, a thousand people who work in a company for a so-called expert to be brought in from outside. And generally if you can’t find a good C.E.O. within a thousand people in a company, there’s something wrong in the first place. You should have deputies who are quite capable of stepping into the C.E.O.’s position. You know, I look for people who are fantastic motivators of people, people who praise people, who genuinely care about people, people who, you know, are not apt to criticize people. And — obviously they have got to be good at what they do. And then, you know, we let them get on with it. And we try not to second-guess them. And we accept that, you know, some things they’ll do differently than us. Some things they’ll do better than us. But you know, by finding somebody, that frees me up to have a life and move on to other adventures or other entrepreneurial things. And so I think we’ve managed to get a great team. Now, the other advantage of promoting from within is, you know what you’re getting. You know, quite often people bring in outside C.E.O.’s into a company and it can destroy the whole atmosphere of a company, and you know, the damage can be enormous. And the other thing is, we try to promote our C.E.O.’s, — if I give you two examples. There was a recording studio division and we had. And there was a excellent lady that cleaned the floors. Anyway, she ended up, a girl called Barbara Jeffries, running the whole recording studio division. And in Canada, we had an excellent receptionist who ended up being C.E.O. of our foundation in Canada. And so I think again, you mustn’t always put people in boxes based on their job. You’ve got to think that people are often capable of far more than meets the eye. And if you promote people above what they’d expect, they will give everything back.

DUBNER: You’ve been quite outspoken about supporting women in business leadership. A lot of Virgin companies have or have had female C.E.O.’s or managing directors. But as I’m sure you know well, overall —especially in the States — there’s relatively very few female C.E.O.’s, especially of big companies. What do you think is the issue there? And — obviously it’s not an easy problem to address. But what do you think is the issue and what you think are some smart steps to begin to address it?

BRANSON: I think that when you have a company dominated by men, they’re apt to think of their fellow men as the next potential C.E.O., rather than a woman. I mean it — and therefore, my own instinct is that the only way of actually solving this, you know, in a relatively short term, is to force things upon companies. So, in Scandinavia their government has said that companies have to have 40 percent, 40 to 50 percent, females as board directors of companies. And you know, initially that was difficult, because there just weren’t enough obvious candidates to fill all the places. And a lot of women had a lot of different roles on a lot of different companies, the same women. But in time, people have realized how much better those companies are run. I mean, women, you know, let’s say a supermarket chain, women have an awful lot more knowledge than men on supermarket chains. And maybe they shouldn’t. But they do. And so on. I mean, you know, women are a breath of fresh air actually, in most most areas. So I think we need to kick start it, it needs to be forced on companies. I’m not sure that a lot of women agree with me on that. I’ve asked women and they say, you know, “We’ve got to fight our own corner.” But you know, personally, I’m not sure they’re right, because I think there’s a danger that men will continue to appoint men. At Virgin our bank in Britain is run by a wonderful woman called Jayne-Anne Gadhia who has actually taken on a big sort of campaigning stance for women in Britain. The chairman of the bank is also a woman. And you know, I think we’re doing better and better. And you know, the people we’ve got are the best for the job. They’re not there just because they’re a woman. They’re there because they’re really, really good at what they do.

DUBNER: But there are many others. You have Mary Wittenberg. You have Lisa Thomas. There are many others. And I’m curious — you kind of are in a, if not unique, unusual, position to oversee a firm with a lot of female leadership, and therefore you can kind of compare female leadership to male leadership. I’m curious — it’s always hard to generalize, but do you see significant differences in female versus male leadership, at your firms at least?

BRANSON: I wouldn’t say significant. I would say that, you know, a good female leader is just as good as a good male leader and vice versa. And you get the occasional women trait, you know, arguably slightly more emotional, maybe. I mean, in the same way that, you know, oh actually hang on there, maybe I’m getting on dangerous ground here. But — but I think I’m seeing — saying it as a positive. I think you know, they express themselves in a female way sometimes. And that can sometimes rub men up the wrong way. And — but you know, it’s in my opinion, it’s a positive thing. It’s great. Great to see people express themselves fully.

DUBNER: So we’ve been speaking with quite a few C.E.O.’s lately for our show from companies like PepsiCo, Indra Nooyi, Microsoft, Satya Nadella, and Facebook. Mark Zuckerberg and quite a few others. And obviously every person is unique, in how they, you know, think about their job, how they spend their time. But it strikes me that even the most public-facing of those C.E.O.’s is much less public facing than you. In other words, in many ways the Virgin brand is really Richard Branson. That, at least, is my assessment. I’d love to hear your assessment and how you see yourself as a representative of your firm.

BRANSON: I think, you know, if you go back to when I was 15, 16, I didn’t have any money and I was starting a company without financial resources. And therefore, you know, if you’re going to take on British Airways, or you’re going to take on the big record companies, I had to use myself to promote what I believed in. And so I was creating artists, or I was creating an airline that I believed in. I didn’t have the money to market it. So you know, so in order to get on the front pages rather than the back pages of the newspapers and get the brand out there, I would do anything I could to get Virgin on the map, even if it meant jumping in boats or balloons, and trying to break world records, etcetera. I think that worked. And now, I think the Virgin brand stands on its own two feet and I’m not needed in the way that I was. We can also afford to take advertising and things. But I can still maybe put a little bit of icing on the cake. And you know, if we build a spaceship, I’m certainly not letting the chairman of British Airways jump in on the first flight. I’m jumping in myself. And so yes, still the two maybe intertwined. But I think the Virgin brand is here to stay. And hopefully will outlast me, and that was the original plan.

DUBNER: You know, that’s what I wanted to ask you next. I’m glad you brought that up, because I didn’t want it to appear to be a morbid or overly-probing question. But what would Virgin look like beyond Richard Branson? And I’m curious if you think about succession.

BRANSON: Well, I would be irresponsible not to. And I am fortunate — first of all, we’re — all the companies are run by great, wonderful people. We have a chairman and chief executive who run the group on a day to day basis.  And I’ve got two wonderful children who do their own thing, but they dive in and out. And I’m very proud of them and proud of the help that they give me and the contributions they make. And they love people. My daughter runs our foundation and does a really good job. My son makes documentary films on subjects, all of which, actually, we see eye to eye on. So you know, drug reform and the death penalty in America, gun reform and other things like that. And they’re really great — they’re really good films. He just did a film about my ballooning exploits which Netflix just picked up called Don’t Look Down. And so they’re both very capable and I think it helps for a company like Virgin to have a face, and I think they can be the younger faces going forward. But I’m not — I’m still enjoying myself. So for the next 10 or 20 years, I’m still going to be very much involved, I hope.

DUBNER: I know you’re not much of a fan of Donald Trump. There is a bit of history there. But of all the C.E.O.’s we’ve spoken with, it strikes me, you have more in common with him as a businessman than anyone else, in that you’ve built a brand whose name alone is so recognizable but it’s valuable, and that the name can get attached to a multitude of businesses. Do you dislike that parallel as much as I suspect you do? Or maybe you don’t even see it as the parallel I suggest it is.

BRANSON: The — yeah. I mean obviously, he’s used his own name as his brand. And you know, and obviously we’ve used Virgin as our brand. But — yes, but there’s certainly some truth in what you say. I mean before he became president, there was a certain kind of building that wanted the Trump name on it. And he did well out of that in the end. And I’m not sure how successful he was at stretching the brand. But you know, because I mean obviously he went into airline business, and that failed, and you know, the casino business I don’t think was great. And so on.

DUBNER: The golf courses seem to be doing — that seems to be an exception.

BRANSON: Yes, the golf and the luxury side of it did well. But anyway, I mean, do I like the comparison? Yeah. He’s the president of the United States of America. But you know, there are aspects about the way that — what he has to say, about people in particular, that I find uncomfortable. And you know, I would love him if he could change his approach and embrace people more than he has done in the past and is doing.

DUBNER: Again I know — it’s obvious that you see yourself as a very different kind of human then him, and also as a different kind of communicator and leader and so on. Again, I don’t mean to harp on the parallel, but one thing I will say is true, if I look at the two of you as businesspeople. You certainly stray a lot from the beaten path. You’re kind of both, in different ways, the very opposite of the modern corporate leader. So I guess what I’m asking is — you both been very, very successful — what I’m asking is, does that success indicate perhaps that too many modern corporate leaders are too timid or risk averse? Because neither of you or that.

BRANSON: I’ve just literally five minutes ago saw Michael Bloomberg. Now, he’s somebody that I have enormous respect for. As a businessman, he’s created, you know, he hasn’t been bankrupt three or four times. You know, he’s built extraordinary businesses. And he’s done it, I mean he’s not your normal corporate type of businessman. And I think there is a lot of extremely good businesspeople in America and around the world that fit into that category, who I would have enormous respect for. And most businesspeople, most entrepreneurs, I have enormous respect for. I think entrepreneurs are the people who employ people, who create most of the new jobs, and who make the world a better place, who shake up the bigger, more complacent fat-bellied companies, and who innovate. And I think without all these wonderful young and old thrusting entrepreneurs the world would not move forward. There is a big difference, I think, between entrepreneurs and then the sort of rather staid business leaders of big companies, who often are anything but entrepreneurial. But fortunately there are the young, thrusting entrepreneurs that are taking them on and coming up with new innovations. And these big companies are having to try to find managers who are slightly more entrepreneurial.

DUBNER: I’m curious — so, your career, as I understand it, obviously began — you were very young, and you created your own path and just kept going and kept having ideas, kept trying, failed, didn’t let it bother you, and so on. But from the original — the magazine, student magazine, which was a culture magazine, to record stores, record label, airlines, trains, mobile phone company, etc, etc, etc. It’s not a model — I don’t know who you might have looked to as a model for that, because I think of people who had done what you had done. I’m just curious, what kind of — either, mentorship did you have along the way? Or maybe it wasn’t actually mentorship, but just someone you saw whose ideas and vigor you admired, and patterned yourself after? Or was it really Richard Branson just kind of figuring out Richard Branson along the way?

BRANSON: It was more the latter. I think, first of all, I never thought of myself as a businessperson or an entrepreneur. I just initially thought of myself as an editor and wanted to have a magazine to campaign against the Vietnamese War. But in order for the magazine to survive, I had to worry about printing and paper manufacturing and distribution and so on. And I sort of became an entrepreneur, just in order that I could fulfill my dream of being an editor of a magazine. And my education was, you know, being in the real world and learning the art of survival away from school, away from learning, and just being thrown in the deep end. And that’s exactly the same way I learnt to swim, was going into a fast-flowing river and having to learn not to drown.

DUBNER: It’s kind of amazing you’re still alive, I have to say, with all the things you’ve done.

BRANSON: No. I am a very, very, very, very lucky man. I tell 75 stories of near-death experiences in my new book. But anyway.

DUBNER: You must be part cat.

BRANSON: But there was one man, a man called Sir Freddie Laker, who ran a — he was the sort of pioneer of discount airlines, really. And he came to my house boat one day and he had gone bankrupt. He’d been pushed out of business by British Airways. And he just gave me a couple of bits of advice. He said, “Three words you got to remember: sue the bastards.” And he said that British Airways will do everything they can to put you out of business. You have to take them to court before you go out of business, rather than afterwards. And I took his advice. We took British Airways to court for a dirty tricks campaign they waged against us. We won the largest libel damages in history. And we distributed — it was Christmas time — we distributed it to all our staff. And it became known as the British Airways Christmas bonus. So we were very popular that Christmas.

DUBNER: Unfortunately you can’t repeat that every year, can you? Well, maybe you could.

BRANSON: Well, if they want to, we’ll —

DUBNER: It’s up to them, I guess. Let me ask you this. You’ve admitted that Virgin Galactic may not be the best bang for the buck when it comes to maximizing profits. You also admit that the Virgin board has not been thrilled with the endeavor. Why is this so important to you?

BRANSON: You only live once. And there is no space line on Earth. There are millions of people who would love to become astronauts, who would love to go to space. Me included. And I want to fulfill a dream for myself, for those millions of people, for my children, and build a Virgin Galactic space line that is safe and, in time, affordable. And it’s taken 12 years to get this far. And I think we are three months or so away from our dream. But space — rocket science is tough. And space is tough. And we’ve had tears along the way. We’ve had many high moments along the way. But I think we’re almost there. And it’s not just putting people into space, it’s putting, like, there’s four billion people who are not connected in the world. Virgin Orbit, which is another Virgin company, will be putting small satellites into space and creating big arrays of satellites around the earth. There’s point-to-point air travel, which we will get involved in at tremendous speeds. I go to Australia a lot, and I’d love to be able to get there in three or four hours rather than in 18 hours. But anyway, I love a challenge. I can’t resist a challenge, whether it’s Virgin Hyperloop, which is another exciting thing we’ve just got involved in, or whether it’s space travel or whatever it is. You know, we love to get in there and learn and hopefully experience.

DUBNER: Once again, you’re atypical for the kind of people we’ve been speaking with for this show lately. You’re not the C.E.O. of a firm with a big structure reporting up to you. You’re the founder and therefore you roam across projects and so on. That said, I’m curious to ask you something I’ve asked some of these other folks. Which is, I hear often that being at the top of a firm, especially if you’ve ascended from internally, it’s very lonely — that you get there and all of a sudden you don’t have any peers. You’re alone at the top. I’m curious whether for you that’s the case, whether you get lonely at the top?

BRANSON: No, I don’t get lonely. I think — I mean, I love people. And I think if you really love people and you see the people who you work with as you know, brothers and sisters, or children, depending on their age, and you’re a good listener of people, and you enjoy the company of people, it’s anything but lonely. And so maybe I’m lucky — I don’t know. But there are occasions, because I’m a recognizable face around the world, that you can maybe get just a little bit too many selfies in a day.

DUBNER: Is that why you want to go to space? To avoid all that?

BRANSON: Well, maybe that’s why I live on an island, anyway. But I mean, I love people, but sometimes it’s good to retreat occasionally. I think, you know, the Virgin company is an unusual company, it’s true. I mean we’re a sort of way of life company, which I don’t think really exists in the world. So you know, we look after you when you are young. We look after you as you get into your 20’s, and then you know, like with health clubs and music companies and games companies. And then we maybe move into trains and planes, and then spaceship companies, and then cruise ship companies, banking, insurance. So we look after most of your needs. And we have stretched the brand into lots of different areas. And most companies — like you mentioned people like Facebook, or others — they’ll specialize in one area and they’ll do an incredible job, and most likely they’re worth an awful lot more as companies than Virgin. But all I can say is, we’ve had a lot more fun, I suspect, because you know, we’ve learned a lot more. And enjoyed every minute of it.

DUBNER: Thanks so much for your time today.

BRANSON: Cheers. Thanks a lot.

In the next bonus episode, our interview with Carlyle Group founder David Rubenstein.

David RUBENSTEIN: You know, money doesn’t necessarily make you happy. Some of the saddest people I know are the wealthiest people I know. And some of the poorest people I know are some of the happiest people I know. You know, Thomas Jefferson said, “Life is about the pursuit of happiness.” But he didn’t tell us how to actually get happiness. And it’s the most elusive thing in life, is personal happiness. But you know, I think I was happy before I was wealthy, so you know, I don’t know that the wealth has made me happier.

Freakonomics Radio is produced by WNYC Studios and Dubner Productions. Our staff includes Alison Hockenberry, Merritt Jacob, Greg Rosalsky, Stephanie Tam, Max Miller, Vera Carothers, Harry Huggins and Brian Gutierrez. For this series, the sound design is by David Herman, with help from Dan Dzula. The music throughout the episode was composed by Luis Guerra. You can subscribe to Freakonomics Radio on Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. You can also find us on Twitter, Facebook, or via email at radio@freakonomics.com.

The post Extra: Richard Branson Full Interview appeared first on Freakonomics.

from Dental Care Tips http://freakonomics.com/podcast/richard-branson/

[lessonsinkindness-blog]

valley of the empaths.

I know, or at least hope, I will not be alone in confessing that my propensity for empathy has  at times, come at significant cost to my own happiness, and left me with a misplaced guilt complex. 

I wouldn't change being an empath for anything, and have historically viewed its consequences as worthwhile "occupational hazards", but sometimes I have to ask myself how different my life might have been by now if I had dared to take a few more risks, and listened to my instincts sooner. 

I look at all the years that have been wasted on trying to make square pegs fit round holes, and punishing myself for what were actually quite sound decisions, and can't help wondering how much further down the road I'd be. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, and after it all, I can say that I really tried with many people and many situations before finally giving up, but sometimes I wince at the time it's taken me to move from A to B.

I've always hated conflict and confrontation. In fact, I'll do almost anything to avoid it most of the time. I'll keep giving out second chances, I'll make excuses and justifications for behaviour for way too long, and I'll always try to see the situation from the other person's point of view. Because my natural default is to excuse poor behaviour by finding some mitigating circumstance  to reason it away, it takes me a really long time to throw in the towel. Most people's experience of me won't be one of someone who is argumentative or unforgiving, and that's set a precedent, like it does for all of us, as to what people expect from me day to day. 

So it comes as no surprise that on the rare occasions I have chosen to cut someone out of my life, or confront them about unacceptable behaviour, that it has been met with shock and indignation. I think if people were honest, this is because they perceive me as quite a passive or weak-minded person, and assume that I don't have it in me. Quite often I find myself in situations where people are obviously not expecting me to call them out, and quite often, they would be correct in this assumption. So when I do take a stand, the backlash I receive for it tends to be greater. If I am angry enough, and have had enough time to prove beyond any reasonable doubt to myself, and any second chances I may have bestowed, that this person needs to be challenged, I will do so, when the time is right. I always hope in these situations that people would reflect on the fact that a) I am not normally a confrontational person, b) I am a recognised empath by almost everyone in my life and c) I generally have no issues being able to get on with people, and therefore conclude that perhaps in this situation, there may be some merit to my point of view. But denial is a powerful thing, and as my brother will often say, people have an underlying instinct to be the "hero of their own stories". And some truths are bitter pills to swallow. 

The knock-on effect of this is that it plays into a sense of guilt in me which is already in overdrive. By the point I have actively entered into conflict, I will already have had to override huge waves of anxiety to stick my neck out, and it doesn't take much of a leap for me to start convincing myself I've made a terrible mistake. 

I'm no longer ashamed or embarrassed to admit that I have had a lot of counselling throughout my life, from the age of about 15. This has been for various reasons that I will go into separately in other blogs, but what I will say is that it's taken me a long time, and lots of therapy, for me to even begin to recognise that not all negative implications of conflicts in my life are my fault. Nor am I the driver of any of them. I have gradually, over time, gained clarity enough to trust myself that some of the most difficult decisions I've made in life have been some of the best, and were frankly, entirely justified. 

Making these kinds of decisions is even harder when society tells you they don't make sense, that "blood is thicker than water". That mentality can get under your skin so much, that it's the easiest thing in the world to wake up one day, and think, "what have I done?", "was I too harsh?", "am I going to regret this when I/they are grey and old and on my/their deathbed?". 

But what is regret?

 Regret is "a feeling of sadness, repentance, or disappointment over an occurrence or something that one has done or failed to do".

 Whose failing is it? Who has done to?

 I may have cut the threads, but the failings were not mine, and I am not guilty of "doing to". 

I had a defining moment some time ago, and at the risk of this blog being longer than intended, I'd like to explain the resonance it's had on me since. If it seems a little disjointed, this is because this is an edited segment from a chapter I've been writing for my book. I didn't want to share it all, but I thought the below would offer an insight into what I'm getting at here. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I used to believe, perhaps naively, that  whatever stories people manage to spin to others in their life to justify their unkind, cruel, or abusive behaviour, and whatever distraction tactics they employ to keep the white noise of life preventing them from seeing evidence of the truth: that when they are in a room, by themselves, with nothing but their own thoughts for company, people recognise on some level that they have been bad, unkind, cruel to another human being – even if they never admit that outside of those four walls. 

Through time, I’ve realised that those same people are also very good at buying into, and convincing themselves, of their external lies. And that more often than not, that conversation with themselves never happens. For me, this is the cruellest lesson in life – that someone can treat someone else so badly, and never really pay any significant price for it.  

 When we’re wronged in some way, we like to imagine all sorts of scenarios in our head. That the other person will feel guilty later, that they will suffer in some way as karma dishes out “punishment”, that they will have regrets later in life.

What about if that never happens? What about if that person just doesn’t care enough about you to spend much of their time thinking about it? What about if your life is an imprint of the devastation they’ve left behind…and they’re sitting in some other corner of the world, your town, the same street…perfectly happy? What then?

 I’ll always remember a poignant moment in my life that cemented this realisation for me.

I haven’t seen my Dad since 2014. Throughout my childhood, my Dad was a tyrant. Those that know me well know a little of what he was like, but until now I've never really said much about him. I may choose to write about him in other blogs in a little more detail if it feels right, but for now, suffice to say that if it wasn’t for my Mum, I think things could have turned out very differently for my brother and I. My Dad is a deeply insecure, angry, and bitter man, who has made it his life’s work to abuse anybody in a close relationship with him. I hold him accountable for the sheer misery he has inflicted on so many lives around him. And I have never once known him to apologise to any of us for a single incidence of the bile he has spewed in our direction for years. After a period of reconciliation where I tried desperately to give him a chance to prove himself capable of being a decent, honest person, yet again I found myself back at square one – my Dad is not capable of loving anybody, and I truly believe he is devoid of the capacity for genuine emotion. 

In the Summer of 2016, I met a friend for dinner. We were chatting and laughing away, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw that my Dad was having dinner by himself at the next restaurant, on the other side of the glass pane, outside. Luckily, my Dad was facing away from us, and didn’t appear to have seen me.  Nevertheless, I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me, and I immediately felt too sick to eat the rest of my dinner. My friend is a good one who knows quite a bit about my family history, and I was able to tell her what was happening. We decided to order the bill and as soon as we’d paid up, we’d leave.

While I was waiting for the bill, and my friend visited the bathroom, my eyes flitted over to where he sat. And there it was. The absolute reality check I needed. The final blow that snuffed out the tiny flame of “but I still miss him sometimes” once and for all. There he was, in the sunshine, drinking a glass of wine, having a nice steak dinner, and laughing – I mean that kind of laughing when you’re in public, and you’re trying to control yourself but you can’t help it – at his mobile phone. It hit me: he’s happy.

 The moment I realised this, my focus and perspective on him changed. My Dad was not living a lonely, miserable existence. He was not sitting there fretting about what he had lost. He wasn’t distracted by anxiety or depression over what his life had become. 

He was happy. He wasn’t losing time thinking about any of us. 

Is my interpretation of this event subjective? Of course. Can I actually get inside my Dad’s head and have unequivocal knowledge of his thoughts? No. Was I making an assumption based on that snapshot of time? Perhaps. Who knows. I will never know. But – it mattered enough that he was still able to have one of those moments to me. He didn’t deserve it. Somehow he’d landed on his feet again and I could almost guarantee he was still parading around in his smug, narcissistic bubble. He undoubtedly would have found some new, vulnerable woman (perhaps a timid divorcee with young children or a younger secretary at his latest law firm). He was probably working, and earning a decent wage, despite the fact he had a criminal record. He’d probably wormed his way into her house and her family. 

And he probably didn’t think about me all that much. Just another blip on the radar.

 The Empath's arch nemesis: The Narcissist.

 So what justice is there? How do those people sleep at night? Why is it that people like us end up living an examined life, while they coast along, unflinchingly sailing through?

 I don’t know. I wish I did, but I don’t. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

So when I'm talking about regret, about misplaced guilt, about the internal conflict it provokes in us to cut someone out of our lives, I feel an awareness that there is a prism certain relationships in our lives are viewed through. A friend who treats you like shit? Move on.

 On the other hand, society tells me that if this person is my parent, I am supposed to forgive them all sins and pop my rose-tinted glasses on. Nurse them into old age. Be there for them and be the better person, despite their flaws and transgressions. Because "at the end of the day, they're flesh and blood". 

These are the messages we receive in our day to day lives. It's no wonder us empaths are left choked by hesitation and regret. We lose years and years of our lives to absorbing dysfunctional transmissions about the people we have a duty to be, when everyone else is enabled to fall short. 

To make empaths feel better, there are often narratives of “killing people with kindness”, "being the bigger person", or “the best revenge is success”. Guilt is a powerful glue in disempowering us from taking back control of our lives and dictating who is allowed in on our own terms, according to our belief systems. 

Sometimes that pressure comes from ourselves. We can buy into our moral sanctity by sticking to the plot line of "empath forgives and sets an example". I wrote about the guru complex. The guru complex befits our friend the Narcissist. The Empath's equivalent is martyrdom. 

It makes us feel smug to think that we are sticking the knife in by living a fabulous life full of sunshine and rainbows while these people are caked in secret misery. Or that we have proven ourselves worthy by being unconditional in our love. That feeds into a need we have to cast ourselves as the hero. 

The hard truth is, this is as much a fairy story as the tales Narcissists tell themselves about what went on all those years ago. They don’t have a magic telescope. They don’t know (and in honesty, probably don’t care) about how happy we are, what we are doing with our lives, or what success we’ve found. Narcissists all have one thing in common – their self-interest. 

But what we can do is live our life, be happy, be successful, in the objective knowledge that the news may never reach them, that they will never provide the apology we so desperately crave, and they may not even live to regret it. But we can live on in spite of that. Because of it. Our audience can be ourselves. Our applause can be our own sense of pride and achievement. 

I've squandered too much time raking myself over the coals for decisions I had every right to take. And I want to stop that now. If we're talking about forgiveness, sometimes we have to forgive ourselves. Forgive ourselves for not being stronger, earlier. Forgive ourselves for moving on. Forgive ourselves for bidding guilt goodbye.