#I originally bought the Colors of the World sets for my nieces and nephew when they visit but the trip's been canceled sadly

[raeloganthesonic06fangirl]

I found some Neon and Pastel Crayolas yesterday in the Back-to-School section of Walmart ((a good place to find some cheap art supplies)), and safe to say I have a decent section of Crayola Crayons right now for my more larger illustrated coloring books

[jodellejournals]

little mermaid days

an hour away from my hometown city, a municipality called san joaquin peacefully exists and humbly thrives. it is located at the southern tip of iloilo and it was way back 2005 when we spontaneously walked on its shores until we found an empty lot. it was love at first sight at the scenery that struck us so my tita bought that piece of land. a year later, it became our family beach house. long weekends, summer breaks, birthdays, and anniversaries started to be spent and celebrated there and so it became a home away from the city where i lived my little mermaid dreams. as some of you know, i have always been fascinated by mermaids and their happy-go-lucky life — just swimming, brushing their hair with forks, being friends with crabs and almost all sea creatures, and away from the harsh and cruel human world. i’m such an escapist, i know, but that’s who i am. i have mentioned in one of my previous entries that my favorite disney princess is ariel from the little mermaid so living in a beach house during weekends made me feel like one. thankfully, no ursula was there but only eels. and sometimes, they come for free. a family friend of ours who does business in the area gives us free seafood and we all know it tastes better when it’s free! but i don’t eat eels! they’re not my thing. i only enjoy fresh fishes and prawns. they’re good although i am allergic to the latter one. i am scared of how oysters look like, on the other hand, so i just pass them around. that’s too much food already so let me share to you instead how life was like in the sea side.

usually, we’d leave our ancestral house in the city by 8am although we have originally planned to depart at 7am. filipino time, you know. if there will be plenty of us (cousins from first to third degrees, extended aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews who were tagged along, and some househelp), we’d go in three batches. if we’re a small bunch, one or two batches would be enough. i always pick the car where cousins my age were at and i’d be lounging in the backseat with my pillow, a bag of cheetos or chippy, bottled water, and earphones. life is good. and i’m all set for a cozy hour of car ride. bye-bye, city! whilst on the road, i’d always (and i mean always), look in the window as if i’m in a summer adventure movie like aquamarine. the usual sights were centuries-old churches, spanish colonnial houses, pastry shops, local malls and resorts. all of which were very familiar to me since i grew up passing by them but they still seemed anew each time i laid my eyes. i marveled at my city. it is such beauty. there is really no place like home. then thirty to forty minutes later, my eyes were greeted by palm trees, zigzag roads, little nipa restaurants, and just a bit further, the glittering sea under the piercing rays of sun came into our perfect view. san joaquin, being a southern municipality, is abundant in natural resources. so the closer you get there, the closer you are to mother nature. it’s like a secret hiding place for me — almost like narnia — where i can unwind with birds, fishes, cows, and dogs to name a few. some cows were literally on the road so we make sure that we don’t go way too fast even if there’s no traffic. cows have their agendas, too, so let’s not get in their way. then if we’d get a bit hungry because breakfast was usually prepared upon arriving at the beach house, we’d stop over at a famous bakery shop called nang palang’s pies. a trip to san joaquin is usually never completed without buying boxes of their signature buko pie. delicious, warm, and well-suited for the tropical weather. i’d take half-bites so as to not be full when real breakfast arrives. then after attempts of dozing into a nap and avoiding cows and their agendas, we’d finally arrive at our vacation home.

upon opening the car door, the crashing sound of the waves welcomed us warmly and the buzzing of the crickets, too! i can already feel my tan slowly coming out of my skin. i don’t know why but beaches make everything seem glisten and glitter. the air smelled of fresh leaves and trees mixed with saltiness from the sea. i love that earth smell! by that time, i’d instinctively hear the sea calling my name. it’s shining there few steps away from me, after all. no worries mr. sea, me and my cousins were already in our swimsuits. we were that excited and ready. we have learned from previous visits to be always prepared with the right attire because the sea calling exempts nobody. and the bangka at the shore (that is usually a property of our caretaker) only tempted us more to go for a sunny boat ride. the adults could no longer do anything if we jumped in and rowed that boat! forget the sunscreen, the little children in us back then used to not care much about our skin. playtime was more important and twice the fun at the beach. so one time, my mother called us for breakfast but we were already dipped in the not-so-deep blue sea and basked under the yellow san joaquin sun. too late, chocolate!

but if she triumphed in stopping us, me and my cousins would have an afternoon swim instead. by 3:30pm, usually refreshed from our nap, we were in the perfect mood to be little mermaids. folding chairs in happy colors perched at the shore and tall beach umbrellas stood firmly. now we have sandy toes that made us forget our childish woes. we’d create sand castles or write our names in the sand using sticks. it would stay there for the sky to look upon until a giant wave would wash them all away. gone was any trace of our masterpiece but that’s okay, we always love the sea. then some children at our age would pass by us. they hold with them crystal bottles that looked like one of those that ursula had with potion, weirdly-shaped but pretty-colored stones, kites, and biscuits or chips. i guess it’s their playtime, too. no, they’re not lost wandering anywhere the wind takes them but local residents just roaming around their village. yes, our beach house was at the sea side where many houses of the locals stood firm. when we talked to those children about the place, they knew every twist and turn, how long it would take to get to the next island or village, or how much the goods there cost. these children, small they may be, but mighty is their knowledge. i could not even commute properly until now without asking for some guides and directions! but them, they are like dora’s map that memorized each corner by heart. how wonderful are the lives of these people? living by the sea, breathing fresh air, and swimming in the waters anytime they want. they do fishing for a living and it’s not even a nine-to-six job. clearly, there is work-life balance. the best things in life are indeed, free. so why do we even picture a life in the city? a simple life calls for a simple way of living. but jodelle, you know deep down inside, that each parent wants their children to live a life with the best things that this world has to offer. how? by getting a good education, earning money, investing on insurance, building your own place, exploring countries, and meeting new faces to name a few. that’s how it’s always been painted to us. but what if, once in a while, we just retreat to nature and immerse in a homemade and handmade kind of life? i’d gladly consider that option.

anyway, going back to my story, me and my cousins would start swimming by 4pm right after our encounter with the locals. for me, it’s the ideal swimming time because there was no more blazing heat but only breezing winds. and it would not also be long enough until it’s sunset o’clock! so one afternoon, i laid down by the shore wearing my navy blue swimsuit with yellow flowers on it and my back felt the soft sand and each time the waves kissed the shore. relaxing, soothing, calming. i can just stay here forever, i remember thinking. and while laying there, my only view was the clear sky. it was not blue that time but clear white with some fading yellows on the sides from the noon that has passed. how vast is this celestial body? does it ever end? the world is so big and i felt so small — but free as well. then a flock of chirping birds came into my view and i didn’t mind. i enjoyed them, in fact. they seemed so happy and at peace. isn’t it beautiful how bodies of water, vast skies, and living creatures just harmoniously coexist together? god really created everything perfectly. i stayed laying there a bit longer and saw the sky changed to a different shade in its own pace. just like us humans. another thought came across my mind but it was a bit silly. wild guess? i pretended the sand was snow and created a sand angel! it was not that bad upon checking the outcome. shortly, i called my cousin, dianne, and told her my blissful and happy experience. i can’t be selfish and enjoy the wonders of the shores all to myself, right? so she also laid beside me, created her own sand angel, and we looked up to the sky above, enjoying our moment of peace and quiet. we closed our eyes for a bit and meditated. just two pisces girls being spiritual. but not too long though, because strong waves took us back to our reality.

by that time, the sun was already setting and hues of oranges, pinks, and purples painted the sky. i’m not a swimmer so i just sat at a huge rock in the waters, pretended i had a tail, and parted my wet hair into half just like how mermaids do it. i’d look at the horizon, check ships from afar, observe small boats nearby, and when i look down on my toes, little nemos were there happily swimming. being in nature really makes me feel alive. then as we came out of the waters, the fishermen were also docking their bangkas and pulling their fishing nets. they had a bountiful catch which was enough to feed their family. that signaled me and my cousins that it was time to wash up in the bathroom for dinner will soon be served. expectedly, our viand would be grilled fish to be dipped in soy sauce, calamansi, and chilli peppers and we’d pair it with warm sticky rice. when we were full, we’d leave the ground floor for the adults to play mahjong and climb our way to the second floor to share stories. sometimes, we’d play cards or read books through our iphones. The television did not appeal much to us when we were there. and when midnight came, we’d munch on a bag of doritos for snacks and drink leftover red wine that was usually from our previous visit. all while the airconditioner was on full blast. i miss that kind of comfortable. a little bit later, we’d turn off some of the lights but it wasn’t completely dark. the moon that shone above was enough to give us light and it seeped through our room that was guarded by a sliding glass door. it overlooked the sea 24/7 and we never got tired of that view. when daylight came, there was no need for an alarm clock because the sound of the ocean waves that sweetly lulled us to sleep last night would gently wake us up in the morning sun, too. coming with the terms of nature and its cycles enabled me to be aware of what part of the day it already was. so that’s when i knew it’s time for brunch because the sun was way too high up in the sky. we’d then go on with the day just like how we spent yesterday until we were due to be back in the city.

oh, happy times. it was simpler back then. it used to even feel like days would always be like that forever but look at me now. i’m miles away from where i consider home and “living” a so-called adult life “the way it should be” — working at the office, paying insurance, constructing emails. all those stuff. when did life become like this? did i forget how to have a heart and eyes of a child? i hope not. but being in your twenties can easily get you in a trap especially if there is no time to take a pause and reflect. sometimes, it’s easier to be just a child — forgiving, carefree, light-hearted, full of wonder, and pure in every way. all would be well again after a good cry. but then i have always known that i can forever remain a kid at heart no matter how old i age. i just have to make sure that she’s within me safely guarded at all costs so the world would never harden her. i am glad she still remains soft when i look at her closely. she still has those eyes full of wonder with a carefree heart that carries happy childhood memories from her little mermaid days.

[achronologyofbits]

GOTY 2019

I wanted to write a personal Game of the Year list, but I realized I really didn’t play that many games that were new in 2019. So I’m ranking them, but it’s less a “top 10” and more a “10 games I played and how I felt about them.”  

10. Kingdom Hearts III

Kingdom Hearts III plays like a game from 2005.

I’m not sure I can fully articulate what I mean by that. Maybe I mean its combat is largely simplistic and button-mashy. Maybe I mean its rhythms of level traversal and cutscene exposition dumps are archaic and outdated. Maybe feeling like this game is a relic from another time is unavoidable, given how many years have passed since its first series entry.  

But there’s also something joyful and celebratory about it all — something kind of refreshing about a work that knows only a tiny portion of its players will understand all its references and lore and world-building, and just doesn’t care.

Despite all the mockery and memery surrounding its fiction, Kingdom Hearts’ strongest storytelling moments are actually pretty simple. They’re about the struggle to exist, to belong, and to define what those things mean for yourself. I think that’s why the series reaches the people it does.

Those moments make Kingdom Hearts III worth defending, if not worth recommending.

9. Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice

Admittedly, I only played about 10-15 hours of this in 2019. Perhaps fittingly, that’s about the amount of time I originally spent on Dark Souls when it released in 2011. I bounced off, hard, because I didn’t understand what it was asking of me. Once I did — though, it has to be said, I needed other people to explain those expectations to me, because the game sure as hell didn’t — Dark Souls became an all-time favorite. And I’ve played every FromSoft game since then, and enjoyed them all. Until Sekiro.

Part of it is, again, down to expectation. Dark Souls trained its players on a certain style of combat: cautious movements, careful attention to spacing, committing to weighty attacks, waiting for counterattacks. In every game since then, FromSoft have iterated on those expectations in the same direction in an attempt to encourage players to be less cautious and more aggressive. The series moved from tank-heavy play in Dark Souls, to dual-wielding in DS2, to weapon arts and reworking poise in DS3, to the system of regaining health by attacking in Bloodborne.

In some ways, Sekiro is a natural continuation of this trend toward aggression, but in others, it’s a complete U-turn. Bloodborne eschewed blocking and prioritized dodging as the quickest, most effective defensive option. Sekiro does exactly the opposite. Blocking is always your first choice, parrying is essential instead of largely optional, and dodging is near useless except in special cases. FromSoft spent five games teaching me my habits, and it was just too hard for me to break them for Sekiro.

I have other issues, too — health/damage upgrades are gated behind boss fights, so grinding is pointless; the setting and story lack some of the creativity of the game’s predecessors; there’s no variety of builds or playstyles — but the FromSoft magic is still there, too. Nothing can match the feeling of beating a Souls-series boss. And the addition of a grappling hook makes the verticality of Sekiro’s level design fascinating.

I dunno. I feel like there’s more here I’d enjoy, if I ever manage to push through the barriers. Maybe — as I finally did with the first Dark Souls, over a year after its release — someday I will.

8. Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order

In December, my wife and I traveled to Newport Beach for a family wedding, and we stayed an extra day to visit Disneyland. As an early birthday present, Aubrey bought me the experience of building a lightsaber in Galaxy’s Edge. And the experience is definitely what you’re paying for; the lightsaber itself is cool, but it’s cool because it’s made from parts I selected, with a blade color I chose, and I got to riff and banter with in-character park employees while doing it. (“Can you actually read those?” one asked me in an awed voice, when I selected a lightsaber hilt portion adorned with ancient Jedi runes. “Not yet,” I told her. “We’ll see if the Force can teach me.”)

Maybe it’s because I just had that experience, but by far my favorite moment in Jedi: Fallen Order is when main character Cal Kestis overcomes his own fears and memories to forge his own lightsaber, using a kyber crystal that calls to him personally. It’s maybe the only part of the game that made me feel like a Jedi, in a way the hours of Souls-inspired lightsaber slashing didn’t.

I think that’s telling. And I think it’s because so much of Fallen Order is derivative of other works, both in the current canon of gaming and of Star Wars. That’s not to say it’s bad — the mélange of Uncharted/Tomb Raider traversal, combat that evokes Souls and God of War, and vaguely Metroid-y power acquisition and exploration mostly works — but it’s just a titch less than the sum of those parts.

Similarly, as a Star Wars story, it feels under-baked. There’s potential in exploring the period immediately after Order 66 and the Jedi purge, but you only see glimpses of that. And I understand the difficulty of telling a story where the characters succeed but in a way that doesn’t affect established canon, but it still seemed like there were a couple of missed opportunities at touching base with the larger Star Wars universe. (And the one big reference that does pop up at the end feels forced and unrealistic.)

When I got home from California, I took my lightsaber apart just to see how it all worked. Outside of the hushed tones and glowing lights of Savi’s Workshop, it seems a little less special. It’s still really cool…but I sort of wish I had had a wider variety of parts to choose from. And that I had bought some of the other crystal colors. Just in case.

That’s how I feel about Jedi: Fallen Order. I had fun with it. But it’s easier now to see the parts for what they are.

7. Untitled Goose Game

Aubrey and I first saw this game at PAX, at a booth which charmingly recreated the garden of the game’s first level. We were instantly smitten, and as I’ve introduced it to family and friends, they’ve all had the same reaction. When we visited my brother’s family in Florida over the holidays, my eight-year-old niece and nephew peppered me with questions about some of the more complex puzzles. Even my father, whose gaming experience basically topped out at NES Open Tournament Golf in 1991, gave it a shot.

I’m not sure I have a lot more to say here, other than a few bullet points:

1) I love that Untitled Goose Game is completely nonviolent. It would’ve been easy to add a “peck” option as another gameplay verb, another means of mischief. (And, from what I understand, it would be entirely appropriate, given the aggression of actual geese.) That the developers resisted this is refreshing.

2) I’m glad a game this size can have such a wide reach, and that it doesn’t have to be a platform exclusive.

3) Honk.

6. Tetris 99

Despite the number of hours I’ve spent playing games, and the variety of genres that time has spanned, I’m not much for competitive gaming. This is partially because the competitive aspect of my personality has waned with age, and partially because I am extremely bad at most multiplayer games.

The one exception to this is Tetris.

I am a Tetris GOD.

Of course, that’s an incredible overstatement. Now that I’ve seen real Ecstasy of Order, Grandmaster-level Tetris players, I realize how mediocre I am. But in my real, actual life, I have never found anyone near my skill level. In high school, I would bring two Game Boys, two copies of Tetris, and a link cable on long bus rides to marching band competitions, hoping to find willing challengers. The Game Boys themselves became very popular. Playing me did not.

Prior to Tetris 99, the only version of the game that gave me any shred of humility in a competitive sense was Tetris DS, where Japanese players I found online routinely handed me my ass. I held my own, too, but that was the first time in my life when I wasn’t light-years beyond any opponent.

As time passed and internet gaming and culture became more accessible, I soon realized I was nowhere near the true best Tetris players in the world. Which was okay by me. I’m happy to be a big fish in a small pond, in pretty much all aspects of my life.

Tetris 99 has given me a perfectly sized pond. I feel like I’m a favorite to win every round I play, and I usually finish in the top 10 or higher. But it’s also always a challenge, because there’s just enough metagame to navigate. Have I targeted the right enemies? Do I have enough badges to make my Tetrises hit harder? Can I stay below the radar for long enough? These aspects go beyond and combine with the fundamental piece-dropping in a way I absolutely love.

The one thing I haven’t done yet is win an Invictus match (a mode reserved only for those who have won a standard 99-player match). But it’s only a matter of time.  

5. Pokemon Sword/Shield

I don’t think I’ve played a Pokemon game through to completion since the originals. I always buy them, but I always seem to lose steam halfway through. But I finished Shield over the holidays, and I had a blast doing it.

Because I’m a mostly casual Pokeplayer, the decision to not include every ‘mon in series history didn’t bother me at all. I really enjoyed learning about new Pokemon and forcing myself to try moving away from my usual standards. (Although I did still use a Gyarados in my final team.)

As a fan of English soccer, the stadium-centric, British-flavored setting also contributed to my desire to see the game through. Changing into my uniform and walking onto a huge, grassy pitch, with tens of thousands of cheering fans looking on, really did give me a different feeling than battles in past games, which always seemed to be in weird, isolated settings.

I’m not sure I’ll push too far into the postgame; I’ve never felt the need to catch ‘em all. But I had a great time with the ones I caught.

4. The Legend of Zelda: Link’s Awakening

I have a strange relationship with the Zelda series, especially now. They are my wife’s favorite games of all time. But I don’t know if I’ve ever actually sat down and beaten one since the original Link’s Awakening. Even with Breath of the Wild, which I adore, I was content to watch Aubrey do the heavy lifting. I know the series well, I’ve played bits of all of them, but most haven’t stuck with me.

Link’s Awakening has. I wrote a piece once about its existential storytelling and how it affected me as a child. I love the way the graphics in this remake preserve that dreamlike quality. It’s pretty much a re-skin of the original game, but the cutesy, toy-set aesthetic pairs well with the heavy material. If this is all a dream, whose dream is it? And when we wake up, what happens to it?

Truthfully, some of the puzzles and design decisions haven’t held up super well. Despite the fresh coat of paint, it definitely feels like a 25-year-old game. But I’m so glad this version exists.

Oh, and that solo clarinet in the Mabe Village theme? *Chef’s kiss*

3. Control

I actually haven’t seen a lot of the influences Control wears on its sleeve. I’ve never gone completely through all the episodes of the X-Files, Fringe, and Twin Peaks; I’m only vaguely familiar with the series of “creepypasta” fiction called SCP Foundation; and I have never endeavored to sit through a broadcast of Coast to Coast AM. I’m also unfamiliar with Remedy’s best-known work in the genre, Alan Wake. But I know enough about all those works to be able to identify their inspiration on the Federal Bureau of Control, Jesse Faden, and the Oldest House.

Control is an interesting game to recommend (which I do), because I’m not sure how much I really enjoyed its combat. For most of the game, it’s a pretty standard third-person shooter. You can’t snap to cover, which indicates you’re intended to stay on the move. This becomes even more obvious when you gain the ability to air dash and fly. But you do need to use cover, because Jesse doesn’t have much health even at the end of the game. So combat encounters can get out of hand quickly, and there’s little incentive to keep fighting enemies in the late game. Yet they respawn at a frustratingly frequent rate. The game’s checkpointing system compounds this — you only respawn at “control points,” which act like Souls-style bonfires. This leads to some unfortunately tedious runbacks after boss fights.

On the other hand, Jesse’s telekinesis power always feels fantastic, and varying your attacks between gunshots, thrown objects, melee, and mind controlling enemies can be frenetic fun. That all comes to a head in the game’s combat (and perhaps aesthetic?) high point, the Ashtray Maze. To say more would be doing a disservice. It’s awesome.

The rest of the gameplay is awesome, too — and I do call it “gameplay,” though unfortunately you don’t have many options for affecting the world beyond violence. The act of exploring the Oldest House and scouring it for bureaucratic case files, audio recordings, and those unbelievably creepy “Threshold Kids” videos is pure joy. The way the case files are redacted leaves just enough to the imagination, and the idea of a federal facility being built on top of and absorbed into a sort of nexus of interdimensional weirdness is perfectly executed. And what’s up with that motel? And the alien, all-seeing, vaguely sinister Board? So cool.

With such great worldbuilding, I did wish for a little more player agency. There are no real dialogue choices — no way to imbue Jesse with any character traits beyond what’s pre-written for her — and only one ending. This kind of unchecked weird science is the perfect environment for forcing the player into difficult decisions (what do we study? How far is too far? How do we keep it all secret?), and that just isn’t part of the game at all. Which is fine — Control isn’t quite an immersive sim like Prey, and it’s not trying to be. I just see some similarities and potential, and I wish they had been explored a little.

But Control’s still a fantastic experience, and in any other year, it probably would’ve been my number one pick. That’s how good these next two games are.

2. Outer Wilds

Honestly, this is the best game of 2019. But I’m not listing it as number one because I didn’t play most of it — Aubrey did. Usually we play everything together; even if we’re not passing a controller back and forth, one of us will watch while the other one plays. And that definitely happened for a large chunk of Outer Wilds. But Aubrey did make some key discoveries while I was otherwise occupied, so while I think it’s probably the best game, it’s not the one I personally spent the most time with.

The time I did spend, though? Wow. From the moment you wake up at the campfire and set off in search of your spaceship launch codes, it’s clear that this is a game that revels in discovery. Discovery for its own sake, for the furthering of knowledge, for the protection of others, for the sheer fun of it. Some games actively discourage players from asking the question, “Hey, what’s that over there?” Outer Wilds begs you to ask it, and then rewards you not with treasure or statistical growth, but with the opportunity to ask again, about something even more wondrous and significant.

There are so many memorable moments of discovery in this game. The discovery that, hey, does that sun look redder to you than it used to? The discovery that, whoa, why did I wake up where I started after seemingly dying in space? Your first trip through a black hole. Your first trip to the quantum moon. Your first trip to the weird, bigger-on-the-inside fog-filled heart of a certain dark, brambly place. (Aubrey won’t forget that any time soon.)

They take effort, those moments. They do have to be earned, and it isn’t easy. Your spaceship flies like it looks: sketchy, taped together, powered by ingenuity and, like, marshmallows, probably. Some of the leaps you have to make — both of intuition and of jetpack — are a little too far. (We weren’t too proud to look up a couple hints when we were truly stuck.) But in the tradition of the best adventure games (which is what this is, at heart), you have everything you need right from the beginning. All you have to do is gather the knowledge to understand it and put it into action.

And beyond those moments of logical and graphical discovery, there’s real emotion and pathos, too. As you explore the remnants of the lost civilization that preceded yours, your only method of communication is reading their writing. And as you do, you start to get a picture of them not just as individuals (who fight, flirt, and work together to help each other), but as a species whose boundless thirst for discovery was their greatest asset, highest priority, undoing, and salvation, all at once.

I don’t think I can say much more without delving into spoilers, or retreading ground others have covered. (Go read Austin Walker’s beautiful and insightful review for more.) It’s an incredible game, and one everyone with even a passing interest in the medium should try.

(Last thing: Yes, I manually flew to the Sun Station and got inside. No, I don’t recommend it.)

1. Fire Emblem: Three Houses

If I hadn’t just started a replay of this game, I don’t think I’d be listing it in the number one slot. I started a replay because I showed it to my brother when we visited him in Florida last month, and immediately, all the old feelings came flooding back. I needed another hit.

No game this year has been as compelling for me. That’s an overused word in entertainment criticism, but I mean it literally: There have been nights where I absolutely HAVE to keep playing (much to Aubrey’s dismay). One more week of in-game time. One more study session to raise a skill rank. One more meal together so I can recruit another student. One more battle. Just a little longer.

I’m not sure I can put my finger on the source of that compulsion. Part of it is the excellence of craftsmanship on display; if any technical or creative aspect of Three Houses was less polished than it is, I probably wouldn’t feel so drawn to it. But the two big answers, I think, are the characters and their growth, both mechanically and narratively.

At the start of the game, you pick one of the titular three houses to oversee as professor. While this choice defines who you’ll have in your starting party, that can be mitigated later, as almost every other student from the other two houses can be recruited to join yours. What you’re really choosing is which perspective you’ll see the events of the story from, and through whose eyes: Edelgard of the Black Eagles, Dimitri of the Blue Lions, or Claude of the Golden Deer. (This is also why the game almost demands at least three playthroughs.)

These three narratives are deftly written so you simultaneously feel like you made the only possible canonical choice, while also sowing questions into your decision-making. Edelgard’s furious desire for change is just but perhaps not justifiable; Dimitri hides an obsession with revenge behind a façade of noblesse oblige; Claude is more conniving and pragmatic than he lets on. No matter who you side with, you’ll eventually have to face the others. And everyone can make a case that they, not you, are on the right side.

This is especially effective because almost every character in Three Houses is dealing with a legacy of war and violence. A big theme of the game’s story is how those experiences inform and influence the actions of the victims. What steps are justified to counteract such suffering? How do you break the cycle if you can’t break the power structures that perpetuate it? How do good people end up fighting for bad causes?

While you and your child soldiers (yeah, you do kind of have to just skip over that part; they’re in their late teens, at least? Still not good enough, but could be worse?) are grappling with these questions, they’re also growing in combat strength, at your direction. This is the part that really grabbed me and my lizard brain — watching those numbers get bigger was unbelievably gratifying. Each character class has certain skill requirement prerequisites, and as professor, you get to define how your students meet those requirements, and which they focus on. Each student has certain innate skills, but they also have hidden interests that only come to the surface with guidance. A character who seems a shoo-in to serve as a white mage might secretly make an incredibly effective knight; someone who seems destined for a life as a swordsman suddenly shows a talent for black magic. You can lean into their predilections, or go against them, with almost equal efficacy.

For me, this was the best part of Three Houses, and the part that kept me up long after my wife had gone to bed. Planning a student’s final battle role takes far-seeing planning and preparation, and each step along the way felt thrilling. How can you not forge a connection with characters you’ve taken such pains to help along the way? How can you not explode with joy when they reach their goals?

That’s the real draw of Fire Emblem: Three Houses, I think: the joy of seeing people you care about grow, while simultaneously confronting those you once cared about, but who followed another path. No wonder I wanted to start another playthrough. I think I’ll be starting them all over again for a long time.

[the-other-swan-arch]

Becoming a Father

@anotherlostswan

Wyatt sat in an uncomfortable chair in the NICU ( Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) wing of Boston Children’s Hospital, his knees bounced up and down while his hands rubbed high jean clad thighs. What the hell had he been thinking? Could he really do this? Self-doubt filled his mind, seconding guessing his decision. 

~~~

Ever since Emma had told him she was pregnant, Wyatt had been doing everything he could to make his life more stable...more reliable...make it so a social worker and the state would approve of him fostering Emma’s child while she was in jail. He had gotten a job, provided a plan for where the child would be while he worked, applied to online college’s so he could get a degree, and actually rented out a small apartment. It had taken him almost seven months to get everything ready and approved by the state, and start the foundation for a savings account. Wyatt would become the legal guardian of his niece or nephew when they were born until Emma was released, she would then become the child’s mother. 

That plan thought had gone down the drain a few weeks ago. Emma had called him as he was getting off work...her words stopping him in his tracks; she was putting the baby up for adoption...closed adoption. After all he had done, the plans he had made...he would have been able to give the kid some kind of life for the next three years...taken away in an instant. The blonde had tried to plead with her not to do this. That there was no guarantee the baby would be adopted, it could end up in the system just like they had, it could have a life just like they had and this time it wouldn’t have a sibling to protect it. But Emma wouldn’t listen. She had already filled out the paperwork, it was done.

He had never been so mad at his twin in his whole life. After that phone call they hadn’t talked. Not until the hospital, in the middle of the night, called telling him Emma was in labor. The young man had rushed to get there. Boy had he been surprised when Emma had twins, it was just supposed to be a little boy...but not, it was a beautiful baby boy and gorgeous little girl. But there were problems.The boy was healthy, perfectly fine. But the little girl? The color of her skin was tinted blue slightly, she could barely breath on her own and when she did breath she made a strained grunting sound. She was rushed from the room and down to NICU. Wyatt had asked what was wrong with her almost panicked, Emma laid her head back on the pillows eyes closed tightly as she tried to block it all out...she wasn’t their mother, she had already signed over rights to the state.

When the nurses in the room would only tell him that the baby girl had been taken down to NICU a growl had left the blonde’s lips, he glanced over at Emma. She opened her eyes, locking with his. She knew what he was thinking in one look, knew what was going through his mind. “Go...” She said in a weak whisper. That was all he needed, he left the room and started a jog down the hall trying to find where they had taken her.

~~~

The doctors had run blood tests, done x-rays of her chest to discover the little girl had what is known as RDS. They explained to Wyatt what it was, what caused it, and what they would need to do treat her. She was placed on an Endotracheal tube, was given pain medication and also received Surfactant replacement therapy. Wyatt stayed by her side the whole time, talking to her and gently rubbing her small chest or playing with her fingers. He was attached, more than he ever thought possible. This little girl became his world. He’d dropped out of college to stay with her as much as he could...he couldn’t give up his job, though he had thought about it, but he needed the money to keep the apartment, have insurance on his car, and pay for whatever this little girl was going to need. That’s right...Wyatt was going to keep her. Her case worker knew Wyatt, had been there through all of this since the beginning. She saw how Wyatt cared for this little one, how he had gotten his life together so he could originally become her legal guardian. So when Wyatt approached her about flat out adopting the little girl, the case worker had done all she could to help make that happen.

~~~

The memories of the last few months played in his mind and his determination kicked back in. He was Olivia’s father, he would be the best he could be for her and give her the world, he would be the parent he never had. The door to the nursery finally opened and Doctor Gillham stepped out with the little girl in her arms, a smile on her face. Wyatt stood up, rubbing his hands on his jeans one more time before putting the diaper bag he’d brought with him over his shoulder and picking up the infant baby carrier/car seat. “Hey,” His voice was shaky but hide most of his nerves.

“Hello, Wyatt.” Dr.Gillam said meeting him half way. “This little one is all ready to go home.”

He set the car seat down at his feet, taking Olivia into his arms, holding her close to his chest--protectively. “There’s my little monkey,” His voice much calmer and collected, he took one hand to stroke her cheek lovingly. “You ready to get out of here? I know I can’t wait to get you home...”

Dr.Gillham’s smile grew watching the two, “Oh she is definitely ready. She’s been fussy all morning, waiting on you.”

Wyatt looked up, “I tried to get here as soon as I could. But where I’m taking time off my boss kept me a little longer.” He explained.

“Wyatt, it’s okay.” She reassured him, “It gave me time to run a few last minute tests to make sure she’s all set to go. Which she is,” She told him. “I have a few prescriptions that you need to get filled. It’s the Bronchodilators and Diuretics, just follow the instructions on the pill bottles. You also bought the nebulizer we talked about?”

“Yes. I bought it the night you mentioned it. It’s already set up in my room ready to use.” Wyatt nodded, bouncing Olivia as she cooed. He took the prescriptions in one hand, still keeping a tight hold on the infant.

“And you set up an appointment with a pediatrician?” She just wanted to double check.

“Yeah, we are going in later this afternoon for her first appointment.”

“Then you are all set,” She placed a hand on his arm lightly, “You’ve got this. I have seen a lot of fathers in my time being here, but you? You are one of the most dedicated, attentive ones I have ever seen. That little girl is in wonderful hands. If you have any questions you are always welcome to call me. Have a great day Wyatt.” With that she turned and walked away.

Wyatt looked down at Olivia, “You hear that? We’ve got this. Everything is going to be okay. We might have our rough times but I promise you that we will get through it. I promise you that you’ll never be without me,” He leaned down to kiss her forehead, “I love you Olivia.” He moved down, placing the prescriptions on the floor next to the carrier before carefully placing her in it and strapping her in securely--he would never admit to anyone he had spent time practicing with a stuffed animal so he could do it smoothly with Olivia. He placed over her, tucking it around her. “There we go, all snug. It’s a little cold out there today.” Wyatt placed one more kiss on her forehead before pulling a pink little beanie from his pocket placing it on her head, making sure to keep her warm. Her immune system was already weak, he wouldn’t chance anything else happening. “Let’s go home.”

Three Years Later

Wyatt groaned as his alarm went off, he reached blindly for his phone with one hand while the other was wrapped around the little blonde curled up into his side. It was his day off, but they needed to get up early because Olivia had a doctors appointment around ten o’clock. Once the phone was in his hand, he opened his eyes turning it off. He let the phone fall to his side, turning to look down at his little girl--his little monkey--a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. She was tucked into his side, one arm over his chest and a leg curled over his stomach while her head rested on near his heart. She had her favorite stuffed animal pinned between them.

Wyatt leaned down, pressing kisses to her temple and forehead, “Liv...baby...it’s time to wake up.”

[brido]

Mike and Vicky Go to Ecuador (Day 1)

I didn’t think I’d ever make it to Quito. That might sound like I’m stating the obvious, but if I didn’t go to Quito, that would end my self-important streak of visiting my sister in every city she’s lived in during her tenure in the foreign service. That streak has not only a weirdly competitive source of pride for me over the years, but also a weirdly consistent source of my stand-up material, from bullfights in Lima to ordering pizza in an Irish pub in Montevideo. These trips to see Susan have been a really special and surprising thing for me in my life. I mean, I pretty much had to go to Quito.    

So as my wife and I nervously dropped off our giant seven-month-old Bernese ‘puppy’ at an extended daycare, we headed out of L.A.( just as the Dodgers were hosting the World Series for the first time in 29 years) and we spent a travel day going L.A. to Houston and from Houston to Quito. I was unsure what to expect from a city and a country that was, to an embarrassing degree, a mystery to me. All I really knew was that we wouldn’t have time for the Galapagos, I should be scared shitless of the altitude and we’d be getting up early the next morning to pile into a van with my sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew for a full day of sight seeing curated by the fam. And so that’s what we did. 

Here was Day 1.  

Our first stop was Hacienda La Compania de Jesus in Cayambe. And as we were greeted by women in traditional indigenous Kayambi garb offering bizcochos and blackberry juice, as well as a young tour guide in a faded Jack Skellington t-shirt, I realized I had no idea what the hell was going on.

The Hacienda isn’t mentioned in the Ecuadorian travel book I bought and skimmed before the trip, but for the past 15 years, the Jarrin family has apparently been giving tours of their old estate. That includes a big, hundred-year-old French neoclassic home with all original everything, an old barn that now functions as a showroom and a 300-year-old Jesuit chapel - all of the above ornamented in an amount of cut roses that I’d have to classify as ‘an overflowing fuckload’ of cut roses.

There were hundreds of rose pedals in the fountain out front. You couldn’t go anywhere inside the big old house without seeing at least one giant bouquet of roses. And the aforementioned showroom was where the Hacienda really flexed its rose-having muscles. They weren’t even pretending you were supposed to be impressed with old furniture or other antiques. That was just them going, “We run Rosadex, a massive rose greenhouse/plantation and export roses to about 50 countries. Look at it. It’s an overflowing fuckload of roses!” Fair enough.

On your standard FTD delivery website, you can get a bouquet of two dozen roses with a vase for about $75. In Ecuador, you can buy about a billion roses for a dollar. Really. Because of the direct, year-round sunlight on the equator and the high altitude (about 9600 feet), the roses grow perfectly straight and the setting is basically perfect. So in a pretty short amount time, these Ecuadorian roses have become one of the biggest exports of the entire country (along with oil, bananas and shrimp in case you’re some kind of nerd). They have long stem roses for the Russians, the dyed circus colors for the Chinese and even a deep blue option that I was told is popular at gang funerals in Los Angeles. I’m not kidding. The place is just lousy with the roses.

We saw the greenhouses. We saw the ‘post-harvest room’. The latter was so colorful and impressive that I almost forgot the part when our tour guide told us that the hacienda had been in his wife’s family for five generations -  ever since King Charles III of Spain kicked all the Jesuits out of Spain and its colonies in 1767. I immediately thought, “Wait. What?” And that thought kind of followed me around the rest of the tour. What type of Game of Thrones shit happened with King Charles and the Jesuits in 1767??? But I’d have to get back to that later.

I did manage to Google the Jarrin family later on and noticed that Jaime Jarrin, the Spanish Vin Scully, was born in Cayambe. So I’m thinking he has to be a member of the hacienda family. But before I could ask more questions, the tour was over and I was back in the van with my family headed off to another sight in the Ecuadorian highlands. But what the fuck happened with King Chuck and the Jesuits?   

Next, the van made a brief pitstop at a place called Mira Lago in San Pablo Del Lago, which was a souvenir shop overlooking the Imbabura volcano and (obviously) a lake. Because of Mira Lago’s name similarity to our current president’s favorite West Palm Beach cake restaurant or whatever, I thought standing by the sign with a confused look on my face would make for an amusing photo. But that’s before I saw the view… and the llamas.

Inside the gift shop, a traditional Andean band, which appeared to be a family, played charangos, guitars, seed shakers, a siku panpipe and sang in either Quechua or Aymara. I’m not sure. I don’t speak indigenous Andean. But I did fucking love them. I’ve tried to find them Online and I think their name is Ayllu Pura and they’re like the Incan version of the Staples Singers. This video doesn’t really do them justice, but whatever. It’s there and I think it’s pretty sweet. Anyway, Victoria bought some cool-looking scarves there and we left.    

Our destination lunch was at Hacienda Cusin, also in San Pablo Del Lago. The estate itself is said to date back to 1602. But the hacienda is a restored 19th Century country home that gradually added garden cottages to become a cobblestone-pathed, terra-cotta-lined, magical rustic hotel with a magical rustic ambience. Do you like Spanish tiles? Do you like more antiques? What about ancient trees? And what about more llamas? You do? Well, they got you. And it’s so dope.

All of that said, the actual food at lunch was the least impressive part of the visit. I mean, I didn’t think so at the time. It’s just that my mind would be blown on multiple lunches on this trip and I can’t honestly say I remember what I ate at Hacienda Cusin as much as I just remember being introduced to the tree tomato (a mango-ish/apricot-ish/passion-fruit-flavored tomato) and the naranjilla (an orange that tastes like a combination of rhubarb and lime) for the first time. The rest of the food was a shrug.  But that’s fine with me. I got to go to an old hacienda (the non-Jesuit kind, mind you) that made me feel like I was living in a Spanish-tiled version of the Led Zeppelin IV ZOSO cover.

The final van trip of the day was to the small village of Peguche, which is known for incredibly talented indigenous weavers and for a picturesque 60-foot ceremonial waterfall in a protected forrest.  

The weaving stores in the village were pretty incredible. So was the waterfall, but you kinda just walk up to it, get your picture taken, stand there and take in how neat it is and leave. Maybe you chicken out on climbing some rocks to get a better photo. Maybe you decide you’re too fat to try to get a photo on a llama.  Maybe all of that happened and it’s best we move on to the weavers.  

In Jose Cotacachi, the workers, all in traditional clothing, demonstrated how they made their wall hangings, shawls, scarves and ponchos from the looms all the way down to the production of the dyes they still make by hand. At one point, a woman who worked there took cochineal eggs from a cactus and smashed them in her palm, using the pigment the insects use to repel predators and added lemon juice and paprika and other stuff to create all sorts of different colors. And it was almost badass how cocky she was about it too. Like, Yeah, I just did that shit. Buy something. 

In another store, Artesania El Gran Condor, Victoria bought a beautiful multicolored table cloth and placemats, while I turned down an offer from my sister to buy me a poncho. These are the types of attire, when worn back in Los Angeles, that can get someone accused of cultural appropriation by the Woke Police. Even though, like, the entire purpose and income of these indigenous markets (especially in the surrounding market of Otavalo) is to sell their fucking wares to dipshit tourists like me.

Anyway, after our first big day of exploring, the fam, including my exhausted niece and nephew, headed back to Quito in the van. My niece, who is 7, got roaring mad at me for some reason or another along the way (I think I ate a piece of her candy), until I sang a song I made up on the spot that went, “I’m so sorry in the van. Won’t you ever shake my hand,” that became such a hit with the kids that it was requested randomly and enthusiastically throughout the rest of the trip. What can I say? Much like the real “Weird” Al Yankovic, my target audience is probably elementary school children.  

Back in Quito, the adults stayed up a bit longer, ordered specialty sushi rolls from a place called Noe and watched Game 7 of the ALCS. The Astros won and were headed to the World Series to face the Dodgers. And I was headed to bed. Thus concluded Day 1.