It was bound to happen sometime, but I skipped sketchbook 84 last week thanks to a bunch of personal commitments and generally being too busy. The up side is that part of the distraction was related to a big art project, so I figure it all balances out in the end. I'm still not keen on skipping weeks, so here's hoping it's a rare occurrence either way.
The name David Cage comes with a fair amount of baggage these days, as he's cultivated quite a reputation for himself. Perhaps notably as the creator of some of the most divisive games in recent memory. Whether you love Quantic Dream's take on narrative cinematic video game story-telling or not, it's hard to deny the impact these games have made.
Every now and then a game comes along that does exactly what it sets out to do, but it's not the biggest or best game in the world, it's just very well made. I'd be lying if I said that I expect nothing less from Platinum Games, so as good as Transformers: Devastation is, I'm not surprised for a second.
There are times when it's easy to forget how relevant the cost of a game can be when thinking about quality and enjoyment. After all, my experience with the original Destiny was quite mediocre, so I never expected to be playing the sequel anytime soon. That is until Bungie and Activision decided to discount the game heavily not long after release.
Normally I wouldn't bother talking about a visual novel, as most of them follow the same kind of format. The only things that generally matter for me in the genre, are whether the story is interesting enough, and if the art is any good. In fact, I think the latter might be all it takes to get me interested.
Sometimes it's easy to forget that the world is a constant mass of writhing organisms, constantly changing and evolving into different forms. I suppose it's what people mean when they say "back in my day", as their 'day' felt a lot different to the now. Of course there are tangible changes being made at all times, but I had the pleasure this week of experiencing a more ethereal form of nostalgia.
This week I spent a bit more time on a digital sketch, so it's not really a doodle per se, but I've included it on purpose. In comparison to the limitations of pen on paper, I was reminded that digital sketching offers a lot of nuance and detail. I was also reminded that I don't suck as much as I thought I did.
I normally wouldn't bother writing another post about a game that I've already written about, but No Man's Sky continue to be an anomaly. The free update labelled "NEXT" has changed the game in many significant ways that will change the landscape forever. Although, it's not as simple as just adding more stuff if you want to keep players happy.
This may be the only Halo game I ever play, which might seem a little strange to some, but obvious to others. To this day I've never played another Halo game, because I've never owned an Xbox of any kind. This could have been any other twin-stick shooter and I still would have given it a go, but it just so happens that it's a spin-off from one of the biggest Xbox franchises in history.
There has to be a point in life when you realise that interacting with art can be an experience without form, or end. When I studied philosophy, I quickly learned that a lot of people really hate wrestling with questions that have no immediate answer. It seemed that no matter how compelling the discourse was, some of us can't handle a lack of definition.
The monstrous offspring of Pasiphae and the white bull, the Minotaur was sentenced to by Minos to the gigantic Labyrinth near Knossos. Later, Theseus would venture through the labyrinth with the aid of Ariadne's thread. The journey would see Theseus battle the Minotaur, and ultimately slay it with the sword of Aegeus, before abandoning Ariadne on the island of Noxos.
Lately it's been a bit hard to find the words to put to these posts, but that's just the rolling nature of life. It's bound to happen in a long term cross section of experience, as we can't make them all winners. I suppose the best we can ever do is implicit in the doing, thanks to all the aspects intrinsically linked to one's ability to do.