In a similar vein to last week, I decided to explore another fairy tale from Andrew Lang’s The Blue Fairy Book: “Prince Hyacinth and the Dear Little Princess.” While the message of not being able to recognize your own flaws is very obvious within the tale, there were some peculiarities in the story that I felt were worth exploring. As per usual, remember the following interpretation is my own. You’re welcome to your own opinions, and I make no claim my opinions are anymore correct than anybody else’s.
One of the hardest genres I find to do a literary analysis for is fairy tales. Unlike other older writings, fairy tales most definitely have a deeper meaning behind them. After all, at their heart they are allegories to spread messages, usually warnings about leading moral lives. In order to achieve this, though, fairy tales go to some odd places. One minute it can be a regular love story and then poof, all the princesses are swans because of an evil witch testing the prince’s humility. Symbolism runs deep in these stories, and today’s story, “The Bronze Ring,” is no exception. As per usual, remember the following interpretation is my own opinion, and you’re welcome to research and come to your own conclusion.
Revisiting H.G. Wells again, this week I read the short story “The Star.” While like most sci-fi it expresses a common fear we have about objects colliding with Earth, what is truly intriguing about the story is how it juxtaposes scale to express an even worse fear we have: insignificance. As per usual, remember the following analysis is simply my own opinion, and you’re welcome to have your own interpretation to the piece.
WARNING: SUPER MEGA SPOILERS AHEAD FOR RICK AND MORTY!
Any fan of Rick and Morty is fairly familiar with one of the show’s main philosophies: nihilism. Throughout the series there are numerous mentions of how nothing means anything and nothing exists on purpose. Sometimes it helps the characters, such as when Morty deters Summer from leaving, and sometimes it hurts them, such as basically Rick’s entire character. Either way, no character is really particularly happy with this philosophy and bounce back and forth between apathetic acceptance and depression.
Numerous modern sci-fi stories tend to focus on epic space adventures, or, at the very least, amazing technology we can’t even come close to creating yet. However, older sci-fi touches at something much deeper: the inherent fear that technology and knowledge brings. This is the subject matter tackled in “The Crystal Egg,” a short story written by H.G. Wells. Within this story, I found three particular topics of interest that I would like to discuss today: the choice of narrator, themes of escapism, and why the ending was what it was. Remember, the views within are my own, and you’re welcome to interpret the piece in your own way.
Written by Edgar Allan Poe, “The Island of the Fay” is a short story that is hard to sum up as to what it’s about. As for plot, it is mostly about the narrator’s musings about science and the divine. Then, the narrator finds an island and watches a Fay circle around an island in a boat, until the Fay ultimately disappears into the shadows. However, amid this short narrative, we can interpret the themes in two ways, which I will endeavor to do so. Before I begin, I do feel I should note that literary interpretation is fairly individual, so I encourage you to read the piece for yourself and take my personal analysis of the piece with a grain of salt.
WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD FOR UNDERTALE!
One of the stranger polarizing issues I’ve come across in the game community is silent protagonists. Some people love them and think they add to the immersion. The player is not forced into a character’s dialogue choices, and they can feel more like they are the character due to the silence. Other people hate them. They often view it as a developer being lazy, and they also believe that it makes a character very flat since they have no real personality without dialogue to convey it.
This being the case, indie devs and homebrew devs may find themselves in an odd situation. Should they risk people’s ire and make a silent protagonist, or should they risk a different people’s ire and have their character have spoken dialogue? This can be a crucial decision when handling the writing of a game. However, it is my opinion that what matters more is the protagonist is written and executed well, regardless of whether or not they’re silent. Thus, today I would like to bring to you three questions you can ask yourself before you decide to make your protagonist silent or not. These will prioritize the quality of the story versus other factors.
Twice before on this blog I have discussed having transparent mechanics in games being a good thing. The first time I addressed GUIs and how they functioned in Subnautica. In the second post, I addressed the use of enemy waves in Dragon Age II. Today, I would like to revisit this topic with a different series and specific topic nuance: leveling in Tales of Xillia and Tales of Xillia 2.
SPOILER WARNING: This article contains extreme spoilers for the entirety of Telltale’s The Walking Dead series. Read at your own caution.
Welcome to Part 2 of my complaints in regards to The Walking Dead: A New Frontier. Last week, I discussed how the character writing was subpar and also how numerous parts in the story were plot deviced to suit the twists. Today we’re going to discuss three more shortfalls of the writing: namely the flashbacks, the predictability, and the pacing. Please be sure to check out Part 1 if you want to catch up.