Thursday, January 9, 2020

Top 33 of 2019: The Writeups

33. Untitled Goose Game

I deeply dislike puzzle games. I also did the equivalent of platinuming this game, completing not just the base but all extra objectives (including speeding through each section, which feels deeply antithetical to the joy I understand others to get from this game). I also have a weird personal relationship with the publisher because of Playdate Pop Up, the videogame arcade I helped found and continue to organize once a year. It seems like that part is working out.

I played through all of it not because I like it. I really don't. That helped, in fact. I can't remember what I was doing at the time - some kind of writing or job searching or something - and I needed to have a thing to go to that I wasn't in danger of losing big chunks of time to. Not liking this game meant I rarely spent more than, say, half an hour at a time on it. So I beat it that way and kept poking at it because I needed to decompress. It was reproductive labor. The anarchic goose who obsequiously performs actions presented from a notebook on high was a Clif Bar to me.

32. The Cactus Blossoms - Easy Way

Back in 2016 I called out The Cactus Blossoms as particularly Lynchian. The next year they showed up on Twin Peaks season 3. That felt fun. What's my big prediction for this year?

I have none. This is a boring record.

31. Stalker: Solstice

Season 3 of Stalker is the show that Channel Zero was always threatening to be; unbelievably boring and without even loose, speculative threads to grab. It's woke (in the pejorative sense) Channel Zero. It sucks. There's a scene where the vlog lady recreates Leave Britney Alone.

Stalker is an anthology series, and this season is about a killer called the Druid stalking a particular apartment building over a 24 hour period on the solstice. A year prior the Druid killed a dude named Kit who was fucking everyone in the building. On the anniversary he hunts a bunch of other people down. Among the players are a middle aged white nationalist and his slutty popular daughter, a lady who vlogs, her closeted husband, his secret lover, a gentrifier who owns a coffee shop and his ace partner who does QA on VR games, a horny teacher, and two families. The two focal characters are high school-aged daughters of these families; one is a refugee from Afghanistan, the other the daughter of a biracial lesbian couple (one of whom set herself on fire the same(?) night as the killing the year prior). Each episode covers about three hours, with plenty of time for flashbacks, over the course of 45 minutes.

For the most part it's one of those slashers where the focus is on the "inventive" kills. This is among the least interesting choices you can make in terms of making me give a shit. The formula is almost always: establish a character as having a single trait then use a physical implement of that trait in the murder. The lady who vlogs, for instance, is sure to have vlogging pop up in her death sequence.

It's a show about sweet deaths that signals aggressively that it has a moral high ground. It is tedious!

Somehow, though, despite playing just about everything wrong the final episode turns out interesting. The reveals are not particularly interesting. But it does lead to a situation where the two focal characters get to play off each other. Which really ends up working. Prior they have the sort of chemistry that makes sense - two high school besties who will probably drift apart over the next five years. In the final episode they really go at it in some interesting ways, though.

Also the ultimate moral of the story is "don't quote retweet no-follower accounts to dunk on them," which is pretty funny.

30. Apex Legends

I played like a half dozen rounds of Apex Legends with randos around when it came out. At least I'm pretty sure I did? As I write this I am genuinely questioning if that was a thing that actually happened. Did I play this game? Well shit.

29. Us

As best I can tell, Us is the only movie I saw in theaters in 2019. Which is a bummer because I didn't like it very much at all, and it didn't really linger with me. A far cry from the me who did 2012 in Film, 2013 in Shit, 2014 in Shit, or the me who gave Get Out my #1 film of 2017. Us kind of just didn't work for me. No especially gripping images, one pretty good performance (Heidecker). It felt a lot more like a work that belongs in the Message Horror genre than Get Out ever did, despite being much less obviously allegorical. I trust that the people who love it did so for good reasons, but yeah.

28. Sayonara Wild Hearts

When I first lived in the place I currently live, two housemates had a kid together. I spent some time around a baby for the first time in my life. Around a year later, I moved out of the house and the area. I spent two years elsewhere, then moved back into the area. After a year, I moved back into the house. Those housemates had moved out. Their kid turned five this year (I'm sorry if I got that wrong). All three of them still regularly come through for Family Dinner, a monthly dinner I help run (I think that's fair to say?), which is really nice. A regular staple of these dinners is the young one's insistence we play Lovers in a Dangerous Spacetime. It's fun.

For the last Family Dinner of the year I seriously over-brined a goose. I didn't quite ruin it, but it was probably ruined for anyone with a more delicate palate than mine (most people). It was shifted off the regular day and it was a hard one for a lot of individual reasons. I made the executive decision, once we'd eaten, that we'd see how they liked Sayonara Wild Hearts, since I certainly didn't feel up to Lovers. They aren't quite fully comfortable with a controller (which is fair), but I figured it might be a good fit.

We ended up making it about 2/3rds of the way through the game, with me or a parent controlling the movement while they hit the QTEs. It became a participatory thing, where people who weren't playing yelled out "HIT!" whenever they needed to press the A button. It was a cute, close moment in a sea of difficult personal shit and changing lives and a lot else.

I think the music in Sayonara Wild Hearts is unremarkable at best, the controls don't feel particularly great (especially in 3D), and the visual aesthetic is very hit or miss. Yeah.

27. No More Heroes: Travis Strikes Back

I played Travis Strikes Back exclusively in co-op, and enjoyed all of it that I played. The gameplay was a solid Marvel Ultimate Alliance-style thing with plenty of interesting variation. The story stuff I remember being compelled by in the moment.

I remember jack shit about any of the story stuff, though, and for whatever particular mess of reasons (have I mentioned how unbelievably shitty my 2019 was, at least in certain personal aspects? That didn't help) I never felt compelled to go back to it enough to bridge those gaps in my memory. Which is a bummer.

26. Pretty Little Liars: The Perfectionists

There are precisely two joyous moments in this show. Both end an episode, and both are primarily defined by one of the Pretty Little Liars alumni using the word bitch. It is otherwise pretty dour and rote.

Other random notes: it's better than Ravenswood, but not by that much. If this had taken the direction of Ravenswood - a sort of weird gothic horror that explicitly flirted with the supernatural - but kept Alison and Mona as the leads, I think it might have been something genuinely interesting. As a more-or-less straightforward reboot of PLL with a mostly-new cast in a new setting that kept the worst part of the show (teacher-student affair), though, it's kind of nothing.

The stakes are basically invisible until they're the subject of twenty minute conversations and the actors have so little chemistry with each other. The second episode literally opens with a vaseline montage of the series' mean dead girl (who is a boy this time around, and really dead) composed entirely of clips from the first episode. The most compelling characterization happens in the last fifteen minutes of the series finale, and it basically reads like the writers room finally got together to ask themselves what any of these people's motivations are.

That said I did watch all 7 hours of it in a single sitting on Christmas Day, so the threads pulled me through. The biggest weakness is that it's Pretty Little Liars and has to be compared to that. It's also the only reason I watched it. Pretty Little Liars is fucking excellent.

25. The Highwomen - The Highwomen

I really, really want to like this record. I don't think I do much at all though. It feels like something best suited for a specific mood, or in a specific context that I haven't quite found yet. If I do I think my tone would change, but as is after a second listen I went from "high on it in the abstract" to "I may never bother with this again," which is a bummer.

24. Super Mario Maker 2

My relationship with Mario Maker 2 was kind of the opposite of its predecessor. In the first Mario Maker I only played Automatic Mario levels and created my own, peppering them with quotes from the Situationist International. It was a pretty magical, dumbass thing to spend my time with.

All told I probably put a similar amount of time into Mario Maker 2, but almost exclusively in the endless Mario mode. I got pretty deep into the Normal and Easy modes. The problem, of course, is that I don't have any particular affinity for the 2D Mario games, so I didn't particularly enjoy any of that time.

I did still love having little moments of narrativizing the design decisions made by internet randos; telling myself little stories, immediately forgotten, of how this choice was clearly made for the creator's kid or that one to troll a friend, how a specific joy was probably had by the maker in recreating a memetically popular mechanic with a twist. It provided a version of the fun I had with the first game, a sort of inbuilt critical lens that was itself the gameplay.

If there's a reason to praise the Mario Maker series, that's precisely it. Both games turn on critical engagement as fun, a mode that Nintendo rarely occupies. And I think that's worth holding up, even if the game itself ended up being wildly disappointing to me personally.

23. Scream (Season 3)

Season 3 of MTV's Scream was something I was both incredibly wary of and wanted to be excited about. The first two seasons revolved around the town of Lakewood and a core group of (mostly white) teens, and felt very of the Kevin Williamson-style of slasher films. It paid homage to Craven's Scream films well and built up compelling interpersonal relationships without falling into the trap of escalating too obsessively. The third season did away with all that, completely recasting the show and breaking continuity. It went through a clearly troubled development and release process, including hiring on Queen Latifah as an executive producer and featuring a nearly all Black cast. As much as I was bummed to lose Audrey, Emma, and Brooke, but I do love messy things. Especially when they get Tony Todd (Candyman) and Roger Jackson (the voice of Ghostface) to appear in the same thing.

That said, they don't do particularly well by Scream, they don't really let the interpersonal stuff that worked in the first two seasons of the show develop, and they ultimately write a story that felt kind of inane. This Ghostface is obsessed with detailing hypocrisy, which is about as rote a motivation a slasher villain can have. Let no one say criticism is ineffectual; if a bunch of dweebs hadn't decided that Halloween and Friday the 13th were about punishing the sins of teens, Scream would never have existed and we wouldn't have a million horror villains whose goal is to enact or undermine those readings.

They do try for more than just straightforward hypocrisy is bad, especially when they hit the (in narrative terms, shitty) reveal that Deion is actually Marcus, his much more personable and athletic twin, and that he's been living with his dead brother's name and the dreams others projected on Deion for a decade. There's something there about the construction of identity by perception and action and speech (it's the Big Other I guess), and perhaps something about the construction of young black masculinity around athletics and opportunity that I'm not really qualified to speak on. Maybe. I don't know. I might go back and watch the first two seasons of Scream again.

22. Baba Is You

I don't think Baba Is You is that compelling conceptually, visually, or in practice. I do hate puzzle games though, so that explains some of it. I also did not enjoy picking up a controller and playing this game.

I did get some enjoyment out of playing it collaboratively. Offering potential solutions and seeing others puzzle things out was significantly more interesting than doing it myself.

If I was to hazard an ideological guess at my tendency toward dislike of puzzle games (as opposed to a personal one, which would be that I'm bad at them which makes me find them frustrating which is uninteresting) it would be that puzzle games are nearly purely competitive, even when they're played alone. They're a distillation of the ways that videogames can tend to be boiled down to an antagonism between the designer(s) and the player(s).

I don't watch competition cooking shows or sports (except sports entertainment, where the performers collaborate to pretend competition) or do much of anything that boils down to "who's better?" because they're boring. Sometimes I play Super Smash Bros against people and the moment I win my brain seizes up to make me worse. One of my more memorable panic attacks happened when I was playing poker with friends at a cabin. It got triggered because I was winning and someone noticed and made a joke about it. I ended up having to excuse myself from hanging out with people who I dearly love for an evening because I got competitive.

The truth of it is that from a skill test perspective I'd probably be better at puzzle games than a theoretical average - because I've played a lot of them and other things and have a general literacy in games' formal language, not because I'm "smart" or what the fuck ever - but I only ever reinforce how bad I am at them. Because they end up being little more, to me, than ways to test whether you can find out which particular dialect a handful of anonymized game designers decided to work in, and best them at it.

Pulling back from that and turning it into a loosely collaborative experience means I can abstract that competition away a little. So I ended up enjoying this a little more.

21. Outer Wilds

I really, really wish I liked Outer Wilds, a game about piloting a thrown-together spaceship in a 22-minute loop and discovering what is happening to your solar system, enough to enjoy playing it.

20. Hanna

I probably didn't do myself any favors by watching the first six episodes of Hanna in like, April, and then episodes seven and eight in uh... January. The time away didn't so much dull my memory of the show as confirm that it more or less just is that 2011 film stretched out over six and a half hours. Which is, like, a substantively different thing and one I don't like nearly as much.

For example: it has been damn near a decade since I saw the film, but I can't imagine that its dialogue writing was nearly as leaden as the writing at least in the last two episodes of the show. Not because it was ill considered or poorly delivered even, but because there was so much of it and it was so functional. Every moment someone had to be asking someone else what they were doing or where they were going because the show couldn't let the action speak for itself because then you would have a movie and not a television show.

The leaden writing wasn't helped by doubling down on the themes of fatherhood and obligation, which are inherently boring.

On the other hand, the elements of the film that you might leave wanting more are generally done a decent amount of justice. I'm thinking specifically of the relationship between Hanna and Sophie, which I remember being among the most interesting parts of the show.

19. Death Stranding

The amount of times I have caught myself saying that I don't dislike Death Stranding is probably telling. I should also say that I'm only in chapter 5 I believe, so maybe less than halfway through the game. And definitely short of the narrative elements I've heard about that would probably end up selling me on the game way harder because of how often I have heard them described as bad writing.

I've also done the game (and myself) a disservice, I think, by trying to run through it as quickly as possible. I haven't really given it time to sink in, to feel like I am actually inhabiting the world. Which is what all of the systems seem explicitly designed to be asking you to do. It's kind of a pain in the ass to do that, though, given how close I have to sit to the television to see literally any of the text. I probably need new glasses (I definitely need new glasses) and I usually tune out whenever anyone talks about text size in a videogame, but jesus.

I do think that Death Stranding's most interesting aspect - the way it pulls in other players creations into your world - is also its most successful. The "walking simulator" aspects are impressive on their own but really only explosive when you take into account that they are there to force you toward reliance on others. The same goes for what of the story I've seen. Every aspect of that game is fine-tuned to push you into connections with others and underscore those connections, and I think that's pretty neat.

Also, before I leave this: I keep seeing hot takes about how "auteur theory" can't apply to videogames, a medium defined by the sheer number of workers required to ship a big (or even medium) budget project. What the fuck are y'all talking about. Have you ever heard of what a film requires. Crews are huge and unionized. Auteur theory is a hermeneutic for critics based on observable phenomena. These phenomena are replicated (with difference (shout out to differance, Derrida)) pretty clearly in videogames. Play a Kojima game, or a Kenji Eno game, or a Kazutoshi Iida game, or a Miyamoto game, or a Tetsuya Nomura game. The people who coordinate those workers are in a position to dictate aspects that can become their signature (shout out to Signature Event Context, Derrida). You can also see the hermeneutic that Auteur Theory largely replaced active in videogames; the studio. Back before those nerds at Cahiers du Cinema made a big deal about Hitchcock everyone was talking about MGM and shit the same way we talk about Ubisoft open worlds. Anyway.

I'm looking forward to messing around with this weird, particular thing some more in the coming year.

18. The Good Place (seasons 3 & 4)

I remember quite liking latest seasons of The Good Place when I was watching them, but, like the rest of the series, it faded from memory fairly fast. High praise comes easy, I think; it's the best sitcom I've ever seen (because I have negative interest in sitcoms), the best straightforward comedy (I don't like comedy as a genre even a little bit), a show that is very solid at balancing its high concept with good character development. The humor allows the character arcs to progress at an uneven pace without feeling unearned and the acting is all exactly where it needs to be.

D'Arcy Carden continues to put in work as Janet, a character that should be truly terrible but ends up as the highlight of the show, as does Kristen Bell as Eleanor. Jameela Jamil as Tahani is probably the slowest-burn arc of the series but it seems like she is growing significantly, and William Jackson Harper's Chidi Anagonye is narratively the least propulsed character but he still makes it work.

The thing, I think, for me is that in the moment of watching it feels like the show is constantly making good on its concept. Which, if it wasn't I would've stopped watching immediately (aforementioned distaste for comedy and sitcoms is relevant here). But in retrospect I have a hard time recalling why it feels that way. Nearly all the stuff with Michael and Shawn is like, nothing. Everything I can remember about Maya Rudolph's Judge is basically goofs and tossed-off stakes (which is exactly who that character is and not a bad way to deal with things in and of itself). The good place committee introduced in the fourth season is kind of nothing.

I don't know! It's weird. Maybe it's that the stakes seem empty but the concept seems rich, which if I'm being honest I am 100% in favor of. So yeah, that's why I like the show.

17. Maren Morris - Girl

Girl feels like the kind of album that I could sit with and slowly fall in love with without realizing what was happening. Unfortunately that hasn't happened yet. On one listen it mostly feels like an incredibly competent pop country record. Which there isn't anything wrong with, as far as I'm concerned.

If I'm being honest with myself it reminds me of pre-Golden Hour Kacey Musgraves, who I was not a particularly big fan of. But there are certainly worse things to be. Especially since Morris has certified country bangers like "All My Favorite People," making her harder to pin with the "country for people who don't like country" label that I semi-arbitrarily assign then get all fussy about.

Update: after a second listen I am somehow simultaneously higher on it and lower? I don't really see myself coming back to it a ton but I do like it for what it is quite a bit.

16. Ceschi - Sans Soleil

Sans Soleil, as I understand it, was meant to be the middle chapter in a trilogy of Ceschi releases in 2019. The third one still hasn't come out (I think?), but it was meant to also be the end of the name "Ceschi." I suspect that's still going to be the case.

I don't really know what people expect out of middle chapters, now that I think about it. For Ceschi, it appears to be a wild, raucous mixture of self-reference - fleshing out ideas and repurposing lines - with heavy community commitments - Sole, Yoni, Knuck Feast, Open Mike Eagle, Mestizo, and POS are on this; so are nearly a dozen others. It's also being less precious about structure. Short songs pile up between a posse cut and a remix of a song from Sad, Fat Luck. One of those short songs is a cover of just the chorus (minus the titular line) of "Hit Me Baby One More Time."

"Old Graves" is good enough that I genuinely assumed it was a cover of an old folk song. Which rules. The work Ceschi does of rewriting "Electrocardiographs" from Sad, Fat Luck into "Yoni's Electrocardiographs" on Sans Soleil, alongside Yoni's new instrumentation, is so smart. The opening to "My Bad" does a great job of letting Ceschi rap in a style he doesn't really indulge that often before launching into The One Man Band Broke Up-era flow that still gets me. "Capsize" is straight out of Twin Peaks season 3, which is such a weird thing to say about a Ceschi song.

As a companion to Sad, Fat Luck, Sans Soleil works way better in the moment. It's always interesting, always willing to strike out in new directions as you're listening to it. Even with the major thread (friends giving eulogies), it ends up less coherent and weighs lighter on the memory. And I guess since these are objective rankings of media that means weighing heavier is objectively more important than in the moment enjoyment.

15. The Ascent to Godhood (JY Yang)

I think I read the whole of JY Yang's Tensorate series in 2019, but the first three were at the very beginning and the final was at the very end. That long gap included reading a bunch of other speculative fiction, which meant getting around to this book was a bit confusing. One of the best things is that, even though I couldn't remember good chunks of the Tensorate world, this did enough reminding and enough new to genuinely enjoy it.

The Ascent to Godhood is told with an in-fiction second person in the form of a long story told at a bar. The conceit works pretty well. Like the rest of the series, I tended to find the writing really enjoyable to read but also slippery in hindsight. I might try to do a full reread at some point because each book in this "silkpunk" series is short and breezy and I feel like I wish I remembered anything that happened in them better.

14. Sole & DJ Pain 1 - No God Nor Country

It's been damn near a decade since I wrote about Sole's Lil B-inspired shift toward anarchism, and in that time he's become a bona fide propaganda machine. His music has continually privileged clarity and political messaging over obfuscation, his podcast has become more and more central to his work, and he has moved from street-level activism during Occupy to more infrastructure- and permaculture-inspired movement work. The only thing I dislike about this shift (theoretical quibbles aside) is that it means he plays way fewer shows out in my neck of the woods, but I respect that that life sucks. Plus I was so broke this last year (and the one before) that I wouldn't have been able to make it to them anyway.

The biggest shift in this period, musically speaking, has been his collaboration with DJ Pain 1. Starting in 2014 with Death Drive, Pain 1's a producer who emphasizes clean drums that knock, a far cry from his old anticon. style. That clarity reinforces Sole's move toward direct political interventions and toned-down style, which, like most things, has positive and negative effects, as far as my personal listening experience is concerned.

For instance: in many ways, No God Nor Country is Sole's most incisive, righteously angry album yet. But his delivery belies that, verging on laid back. That makes it more clear what he's saying (and I half-imagine it's to do with the fact that he's recording in a home studio with a kid around? and also probably the mix, which sounds very professional but not in an inspiring way) but also lacks an emotive punch that would not just clarify things sonically but create some much-needed variance.

Ironically it's on "Godless" - the song that has the lyric "I'm not shaking my fist or clenching my teeth / or having a heart attack at the age of 33" - that he breaks with the vocal style that dominates the rest of the album, and for that reason I think it's the best song on the record. On the other hand, I think "FTL" and "D.T.A." are two incredibly written tracks that I think suffer greatly from feeling like they need a little more juice.

With a little distance and a few more opportunities to listen, I think I'll come to find these problems are minimized. I'm not positive about that yet, though.

13. Wolfenstein: Youngbloods

If there are two videogame genres I'm most inclined to dislike, it's puzzle games and first person games. There was a period this year when I played four games in succession: The Missing: JJ Macfield and the Island of Memories, this, Untitled Goose Game, and Destiny 2: Shadowkeep. My dislike of puzzle games held fast (The Missing was neat but not really all that compelling to me; Goose Game is at the bottom of this list). Weirdly, two of my favorite games of this year turned out to be first person (shooters no less).

Wolfenstein: Youngbloods took a lot of shit for being slight and for "poorly" incorporating RPG mechanics that meant enemies needed to be shot a lot to die. I didn't play it until after the patch meant to address those issues, so maybe I played an entirely different game than most reviewers. I suspect, contrarily, that I just like those aspects, found the story bits really compelling, and am correct. Kidding about the last part.

I don't know, a few months removed, that I have a ton to say about the game. The twins' characterization all felt solid to me, the shooting properly pacifying in that I Play Games To Dissociate In A Controlled Environment sort of way. And honestly I think I'm comfortable leaving it at that.

12. The Bedroom Witch - Diaspora

nb: I used to live with The Bedroom Witch and consider her a close friend.

Diaspora is an album I had the benefit of being around to talk to its creator about long before it was in the world. I also got to see the album premiere show, where I had the misfortune of dissociating the worst I have in a very long time and so, despite being physically present, I wasn't able to internalize anything. Partially due to that experience I haven't come back to this record as much as I meant to, even though The Bedroom Witch had nothing to do with my brain.

As I understand it, Diaspora expands a set of key metaphors - the "shadow self," worlds (like "Sea of Insects"), fountains, gates - into a narrative that exists behind both the sonic and lyrical aspects of the songs. The story told in the songs themselves then brings back into focus the metaphorical imagery to talk feeling split between worlds by way of nationality, gender, desire, grief, and life. Don't quote me on any of that.

What I can say confidently is that Diaspora is almost certainly The Bedroom Witch's best sounding album yet. Her capabilities as a pop songwriter have been obvious since her debut Moon Bathing, but over the last half decade she has both refined her songwriting and her sense for the texture of her sounds. If there's a problem I've had with her music in the past, it's that when listening to full albums, it's easy to end up in a sort of fugue. Songs slip past. It's not a purely negative thing - that is a mood worth capturing, or an effect worth building around - but it can end up being less impactful. The only reason I call it a problem is because her live show is so kinetic.

Diaspora totally does away with that problem. Each song feels distinctly of the whole. It's a showcase of her growth and her increasing comfort with her sonic tools, especially as she has started releasing work like Triptych and (the video for) Grieving Spell, where she can channel narrative ideas. That distribution of narrative leaves the songs more space to breathe.

11. The Forest of Love

Even more surprising than Us being the only film I saw in theaters in 2019: The Forest of Love appears to be the only 2019 film I watched outside of theaters in 2019. I knew I ended up watching a lot of older stuff - mostly Westerns, Astaire films, and giallo - but I didn't realize I did that bad. TV takes up a lot of time, I guess. Especially when you march through Pretty Little Liars and Good Eats, front to back (more or less). And then especially if you add Bon Appetit and Giant Bomb's YouTube channels. I had a bizarre media diet in the last year of this decade. Which makes sense, given how wretched of a year it was in many ways.

Am I stalling? No! Why would I stall before talking about this film about the sexual allure of serial killers, the trauma of being a high school lesbian, and how all filmmakers are assholes? Why would I stall when talking about Sion Sono, director of Suicide Club and Why Don't We Play In Hell?, both excellent films? Why?

It couldn't possibly be because I am simultaneously deeply unsure of how to talk about this and because I watched it long enough ago (and in certain conditions) that I don't remember everything about it.

How many books have you read where writing is the most painful and transcendent practice imaginable? Poems that luxuriate in the minutiae of word choice? Films that make the struggle of the director appear as ecstatic and profound a thing that since Paul became Saul or whatever? How many have you seen that find filmmakers insufferable nerds, hyperfixated on their own bullshit, with basically no redeemable qualities?

If Why Don't We Play in Hell? couldn't help but valorize its guerrilla, Dogme '95-ass protagonists, Forest of Love takes that failing and pushes it further along the road to being a film about a truly contemptible filmmaker. Which is something I don't know that I've seen successfully done if we're excluding pitiable, misunderstood, or ultimately redeemed from purely contemptible.

It manages this, in part, by weaving together themes of traumatic high school lesbianism (and the concomitant trouble of the sudden death of a (first) lover with the social fascination for serial killers and hucksters. It also does this by being not just a little problematic, hamfisted, and shaggy. It's neat.

10. Ceschi - Sad, Fat Luck

I've been saying (mostly privately, I think?) for a while that I think Ceschi might be our best poet of solidarity. Sad, Fat Luck is an album about bones, processing grief, feeling old, loss, and pushing through - whether to more or to an end. It's personal. The politics are a little lost, a little angry, a little self-aware uncertainty. I'm not close kin with grief or feeling old or broken bones and I'm terrible at pushing through. So much of it still lands for me.

I think "Take It All Back, Pt. 1-4" might be Ceschi's best mission statement yet, a freewheeling set of raps and hardcore chorus callbacks that balances rage at systemic and personal disappointments with joy at the act of creation. It also has a verse that just goes -
Children burst into flames
On a battlefield somewhere
But my insides are numb
And I'm struggling to care
- which might be the corniest thing Ceschi's ever written, and not in a particularly good way. But in that same song he says "Never wanted to be anything better than anybody / Only want to think up possibilities for everybody" in his inimitable fast rap style and it's the quintessential Ceschi line.

Dude can chew through syllables better than almost anyone else, is on top of that an exceptional guitar player and singer, is clearly dealing with particular kinds of depression and PTSD (these are named, so I'm only armchair diagnosing in the sense of repeating), and still doesn't succumb to braggadocio. He calls for solidarity instead.

"Jobs," "Say No More," and "Any War" are each complex meditations on the state of the world, on friendships and loss and real resistance. It's also just so weird to hear Astronautalis threading the needle through his old survivalist attitudes to come out in favor of toppling confederate statues and knocking out Nazis. What a weird dude.

Sad, Fat Luck ends up reinforcing my thesis, I think. Not because it has any songs like "Bite Through Stone" that explicitly talk about toppling power together. Because it doesn't. But there is more than one way to talk about coming together, and part of that is doing the work of self-reflection and lashing out in productive ways without losing focus (for too long). This record, at least to my ears, does just that.

9. Riverdale (seasons 3 & 4)

If we're being specific to 2019, we're talking Riverdale season 3, episode 9 through Riverdale season 4, episode 9. That's post-quarantine through to where the show currently is. I don't think that's going to matter all that much.

As much as I enjoyed the third season while I was watching it, neither the Griffins & Gargoyles nor the Farm plots did a lot for me. They both gave Mädchen Amick plenty to do, which was nice. Cheryl Blossom stayed incredible.

I'm genuinely more excited for season 4 than I have been since watching season 1. The framing narrative is excellent; Archie, Betty, and Veronica are implicated in the death of Jughead. It's so transparently inconsequential that having it happen more or less exclusively in flash-forward shots for the last minute or so every episode is nice. It means that the interpersonal work that drew me to the show in the first place gets to be foregrounded again in a way that it sometimes felt lost through seasons 2 and 3. As an example: the A-plot being reduced to a couple minutes per episode opened up space for what might be one of my all time favorite acting choices/moments of lowkey characterization. It's literally just Betty saying "yes" twice and slapping a bed. It fucking rules.

8. Miranda Lambert - Wildcard

Wildcard is a very different thing from Weight of These Wings (my #7 album of 2016, which is criminally low even though I did review nearly 400 country records that year), which isn't a bad thing. It's much cleaner, more audience-oriented. Which I can respect. It doesn't hit me quite as hard, but it does have more singles and, y'know, a runtime shorter than a feature film. It's a tequila record with a handful of glasses of wine, rather than Weight's smoky whiskeys with a sidecar.

If that sounds like I'm saying Wildcard isn't good, I apologize. I'm saying I don't think it's one of the best records of the decade. I like Weight of These Wings a lot.

The singles are really where Wildcard shines. "It All Comes Out in the Wash" is a joyous Lambert song about allowing yourself to fuck up. "Way Too Pretty For Prison" is a classic boyfriend-murder bop with a twist and really great work by Maren Morris. "White Trash" is a mission statement, that old "I'm rich now but I promise I still culturally identify with the working class" joint that Lambert, with all her ample ability, makes fresh. "Bluebird" takes moody lap steel and turns it into a song about how the heat death of the universe couldn't darken her soul (or kill the bluebird in her heart(???)). That might be a little interpretive work on my part.

It's hard to describe what makes Miranda Lambert my favorite working country artist. She has a strong voice that she knows how to use, obviously, and a bunch of songs about murdering abusive men. There's a healthy mix of humor and seriousness, a genuine-feeling joy in the art, a respect for the form that doesn't disappear into sycophancy. She's a crucial component of The Pistol Annies, who are unbelievably good. And she doesn't tend to do wack shit (at least that I'm aware of), which is rad.

But it's also her specificity. She doesn't just do songs about murdering cheating men or murdering abusive men. She does songs like "The House That Built Me," about going home again. Except the narrator never actually leaves the front porch. She sings beautifully about growing up in this house, about her dead dog buried in the yard, but all textual evidence points to her singing this, face to face with a total stranger who never gets a word in. In a song full of sharply drawn images it's the sharpest to me, even if it is only an image by omission.

7. Good Eats (season 15)

I started with season 8 of Good Eats this year. I watched through season 14. I then went back to season 1, and have watched through season 3. I am almost certainly going to watch seasons 4-7 at some point in the next couple months. If you want to give Good Eats a chance (and a large chunk of your time), I would recommend not bothering with anything before season 9. That's just me though. There's a version of this where I talk about how 2019 was my freshman year of the Autodidact's Culinary School. I think that's going to be on my cooking blog Always Bee Cooking though, so I'll hold off.

As a television show, I think season 15 of Good Eats slots in fairly well with the rest of the show (despite the very long hiatus). Everything feels less playful, though. The camerawork especially, which is the most undersung aspect of Good Eats. The bizarrely framed shots (especially after Brown moved from the producer's house to a set) set a baseline that allowed the show to dive deep into scientific minutiae or historical sketches (many of which were, well, let's say racially insensitive) or sock puppet asides or even just interesting recipes. That playful camera isn't gone in season 15, but it feels way more reigned in. Which is fitting in certain ways, as all those other parts do as well - the new season feels to me much more "about" the recipes than just about any season that came before.

In many ways it feels more like season 1 than season 14, which is interesting. The long stroll-and-monologue through New York City's Little Italy, discussing the origins of Italian food, seems closer to the awkward introduction to "Steak Your Claim" (s01e01) than the frenetic "Porterhouse Rules" (s14e01). Both older episodes are about a specific cut of beef and how to cook it. Both spend time on describing the cow, the cut, and the cookware needed. Both dig into history. Where "American Classics X: Chicken Parm" (s15e01) and "Steak Your Claim" converge is the pace. There is a bit of languor, a bit of getting to know this guy. "Porterhouse Rules" fires off like a rocket and never comes down. Plus it's shot way better.

All of which is important to me, but I doubt most people. The big thing about season 15 is it does a pretty good job of presenting the kinds of information that Good Eats is good at presenting: a joyful attitude toward cooking, an interest in flavor, and enough basic principles that you can think through even if you don't intend on making what the episode is about. Which is pretty neat.

6. Destiny 2: Shadowkeep

According to Steam, I've played around 250 hours of Destiny 2. I didn't start it until maybe a week after it launched for free on that service, which happened on October 1st. The vast bulk of that playtime was in October and November. If you give me a couple days off for idle time, that means I spent about 8½ days over two months playing Destiny 2: Shadowkeep. That honestly doesn't seem untrue. It's also the title of a great Fellini film, so bonus.

Prior to October I had never played a second of Destiny or Destiny 2. It seemed very uninteresting. Then it became free and I needed things to pacify my bad brain. So I started shooting aliens and robots with anonymous other real people, collecting gear, playing through a story with glazed eyes and finding beautiful little pieces of level design, of combat design, of play. Early on I wrote a short Twitter thread about a bit of "no interaction socialization" that struck me as really kind of wonderful. I also described Mars as "the perfect MMO zone" which I tend to continue to agree with.

Here's the pitch: The folks who brought you Halo made one of those, but it's a massively multiplayer online game with about four years of history and now it's free. I bought it. Well, I mean, I didn't buy anything. I did get the free battle pass up to like, level 80 in that season though. I've been hovering around 950 power level since late October. The only way to really advance past that is by doing activities that, practically speaking, require coordinating with other human players. I haven't really done that.

But there's so much smart stuff in Destiny 2: Shadowkeep. It's the way the world has these little hideaways (called Lost Sectors) where you run through a tunnel to instance out of the area and do a little dungeon. Or the way public events produce emergent no interaction social play. Or how Mars' two big areas each have triggerable public events ("Escalation Protocol") that inspire those little events to get bigger and bigger as people come through with powers you've never seen before to wipe out waves of enemies. Or moments where you click "interact" on a random object you've never seen before (despite spending dozens of hours on Nessus) to be transported to a defamiliarized Lost Sector where you try to run a deprecated raid solo ¾ of a dozen times on a time limit before admitting defeat.

On a smaller level, it's the way areas are laid out to keep you from getting turned around without feeling like funnels and the way that enemies stagger when shot and the way that little incentives keep you running around, exploring. It's how they give the player vs. player content its own specific little garden that lets me engage with competitive stuff (see the Baba is You review for context) when I'm up to it and never otherwise. It's so many things that I could list for another thousand words but I don't think that's particularly compelling reading (or writing, if I'm being honest about how many people I expect to read this).

You know what is compelling reading though? Me saying: I dunno, it's real neat, like I do at the end of half these reviews. Deal with it! And add me on Steam I want to try a raid sometime.

5. Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice

In late 2018 I got the platinum trophy for Bloodborne after having never managed to finish a Dark Souls game (despite quite liking the first). In early 2019 I got the platinum trophy for Sekiro. I think I would actually like the Dark Souls games more than Bloodborne or Sekiro if I had actually played them. I am in the camp that says that the Dark Souls series is probably the most important thing in videogames over the course of the last decade. It's inarguable that they've totally upended the way action games are made, both in terms of mechanics and in their surrounding systems and storytelling. Who knows how long that lasts or what aspects ultimately filter out, but so many of them already have that I don't feel premature saying that.

Despite the importance I don't know that I give the remotest shit about the storytelling style of Tetsuya Mizuguchi (another clear auteur!). I found nothing particularly affective about Bloodborne or Sekiro as stories. They do both have pretty excellent showstopping moments, which is itself a consequence of storytelling and especially pacing. Which is what I think is the strongest suit of these games. From mechanics to story to post-game content, I don't think they flag in pacing once. Which is pretty fucking incredible, honestly, for games where you are constantly dying and reviving and frustrated and hacking through the same enemies for twenty minutes to get vials or spirit levels or whatever.

I also don't particularly get those moments of elation and triumph from these games, which seems to be a big part for most people. The final (optional) Owl fight was a motherfucker, and the bit with the Snake was excellent spectacle, and taking out Genichiro and Isshin was always hard won. But it always felt more like a sigh and a nod than a leap and a fist pump. And I honestly like that better. But maybe I release tension differently than others for reasons of personal history. I also don't find the stories particularly complex (but then I say that about Kingdom Hearts as well)? What they are is full of detail, some of which is compelling, some of which is not, and none of which should muddy the fact that the narrative arc is from disgrace to obligation fulfilled to making a choice with broad political implications and pretty narrow personal ones.

I guess what I'm saying is that the discourse around these games is all just fucking baffling to me, even as I get it on some level. Or rather, I get why they inspire arguments; I don't get why the understandings that seem to have been reached are the ones that have been reached. It's probably just me. I'm glad that thing about Sekiro being a secret rhythm game seems to have died though, because what the fuck, y'all. The argument you're looking for is that Guitar Hero and Rock Band were actually action games, not that Sekiro is a rhythm game.

You know what fucking ruled about this game? There was this one spot at the top of Mibu Village where you could enter a crevice that the stream had carved out. A purple ninja was right there. I farmed that dude for hours. I barely remember why. I would run down, kill him, run up, reset, run down, repeat. I must have fought him a hundred times. Maybe a dozen of those fights were identical, and those were only the ones I got perfect. I had all of his moves down within a few runs. I was still dropping one resurrection point by the end. Those five or so moves, coupled with the environment and just enough reactive action brought together so many possibilities. Parrying the multi-part strikes never got old. What a good game.

4. 100 Gecs - 1000 Gecs

This review was commissioned by BW! You can find out how to commission me by going to my Patreon. Sorry it's late BW.

You can see my initial reactions to 1000 gecs here.

In those reactions I dropped some names: satanicpornocultshop, DJ Sharpnel, BrokeNcyde, Lil Peep. I'm not super familiar with Peep's work, but I've listened to the rest a lot. I also brought up brostep, a genre I personally still love. I find nothing so compelling as the work Hyperdub and Kode9 pioneered being filtered through mass culture, typifying the latent, transformative aggression into masculine resonances (or menace? I'm not at all opposed to the critique of brostep culture and not unaware that it is repugnant). It hits a certain expression of frenzy and anger that I find difficult to access in my daily life - even when it is called for. The kind of transformative rage that powers (and sometimes overpowers) organizers is locked away for me for reasons of biography, temperament, historical social positioning, and more.

DJ Sharpnel's music actually hits me in a similar way. Nerdcore (not the white rapper one) fka J-core (or Japanese Happy Hardcore) takes that simmering aggression and filters it through a more ostensibly joyous aesthetic. It's high BPMs and anime samples. It's punchy in a positive way. Especially Sharpnel. If I'm being honest I end up preferring artists like hardcore tano*c and RoughSketch for being stronger examples of that aggression, but that's just personal shit. What Sharpnel offers to the comparison to 100 gecs (as I'm constructing it now, on the fly, in relation to myself) is the sampling. The particular vocal effects that the singer of 100 gecs employs are reminiscent of plenty of things - "chipmunks" versions of songs on YouTube are probably the most immediate association - but, for me, they fall in the sonic/associational realm of sampling.

(a quick aside, and we're back in the previous paragraph: I have sort unintentionally learned nothing about 100 gecs. I have a vague idea it's two people. I literally dunno shit tho.)

If we're talking sonic similarities though 1000 gecs is way closer to satanicpornocultshop. The vibe is way off, which is why DJ Sharpnel came to mind. BrokeNcyde is the opposite, and adds a crucial component that is also true of brostep: whiteness. And another step that is true of nothing else here, I don't think: teenness. Maybe Lil Peep, but again, I'm not super familiar.

Comparisons aside: Every song on this record goes. I love the way musical ideas are picked up and tossed aside. I love some of the drums (the thickest ones, specifically) so much. The way they manage to keep a specific sonic throughline while discarding ideas left and right is inspirational and enjoyable.

I think if this record has a three song run (go read QRoCC if you want to see me lay out the theory, I don't remember where) it's, shockingly, the last three. "gecgecgec" takes the joy of discarding and wraps it all the way around to points where continuing a particular musical thread itself becomes funny. "hand crushed by mallet" strikes a bizarre treaty between goofy and angry to produce joyously uncanny pop music. And "gec 2 Ü" closes out a cute song about texting "u up" with stadium rock drums that go full nerdcore over Cascada synths. It's a delight.

3. Kingdom Hearts III

Kingdom Hearts III is an itch in the back of your brain. It's a sense that things must have come to a close, even knowing they certainly haven't. It's nothing that means everything.

It's the perfect end to the 10-game trilogy that is Kingdom Hearts. I would love to have more of this weird thing. I would also love if it disappeared from everything but our collective memories forever.

This year I wrote about how Kingdom Hearts is a series about threes. In that essay, I also talked about how it is a series about making friends without having a self. And how it's a storytelling reflection of the director's prior work (as a character designer). And about the enclosure of the commons in 15th century Britain. And stories.

Go read that essay, if you want to know my thoughts on this fucking series, because I am incapable of having thoughts on this particular game outside of them. Aside from one: I'm going to buy my first DLC ever when Re:Mind comes out.

2. Hexarchate Stories (Yoon Ha Lee)

The more I've been able to sit with Hexarchate Stories the more I've really appreciated what it does, both as a collection of short stories and a sideways view into the Machineries of Empire trilogy. I wrote a full review of it for Strange Horizons, which I somehow hadn't written for in like two and a half years.

I don't have much to add to that review at this point (I'm only like a month away from having written it), so I'll reiterate what I said there: Machineries of Empire is the best of the speculative fiction trilogies of the 2010s. It shits on the Ancillary books (I talk about why I don't love them a bit somewhere in this 2 hour podcast), and I even prefer it to the Broken Earth trilogy. You should read it if you haven't, and if you enjoyed it you should consider picking this book up.

1. Taylor Swift - Lover

I was not a big fan of Reputation. I think "Getaway Car" is great and "Delicate" ended up worming its way into my heart. The most indicative thing about that album is how incredible the prechorus on "Look What You Made Me Do" is, and the atrocious chorus that follows. I did get to see her live on that tour though which was nice.

Lover is kind of a hard pivot. It's still goofy and awkward in ways that initially put me off, but the album as a whole grew on me immensely even from the second listen. Specifically the title track. I found it insufferable the first time through. It may now be my favorite song of 2019. That "Ladies and gentlemen will you please stand / with every guitar-string scar on my hand / I take this magnetic force of a man to be my / Lover" fucking melts. I regularly wake up with "The Man" stuck in my head, as much as the basis of that song feels like middle school feminism (note: that's not really fair, even if it's kinda true. It's specifically because of Reputation and Swift's public feud with Kanye West, and how this song holds space for a reading that it is still subliminally about him, and how that middle school feminism butts up against a wild ignorance of anti-black racism (at best) that actually grates). "Paper Rings" bops along so joyously. "Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince" and "Cornelia Street" are perfect Taylor Swift album cuts. I kind of fuck with this record really hard.

"I Forgot That You Existed" is a good song that is also the worst possible album opener. I get that it's meant to signal a move away from the celebrity-drama of Reputation, but as far as I'm concerned even reminding the listener of that shit is a net negative. It's lucky that it's immediately followed by "Cruel Summer," which hits Swift's best aspects so well. The pop songwriting with impeccable phrasing, the buoyant chorus, the reprise that works so well -
I'm drunk in the back of the car
And I cried like a baby coming home from the bar
Said "I'm fine," but it wasn't true
I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you
And I snuck in through the garden gate
Every night that summer just to seal my fate
And I screamed, "For whatever it's worth
I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?"
I was trying to talk about the negatives. So. "ME!" is pretty embarrassing. Sometimes I think it's goofy fun, other times I think it's unbearable. "You Need to Calm Down" has a lot of the same problems as "I Forgot That You Existed" - Taylor Swift is not a savvy wielder of slang. I can't imagine a less convincing phrasing of "say it in the streets it's a knockout / but you say in a tweet, that's a cop out." I also become less and less convinced that I have any idea what she means when she says "shade never made anybody less gay," but I guess that's a shirt now or whatever. Also "London Boy" is not great.

All of which ends up paling in comparison, for me at least, to just how fucking good so much of this record is. "Paper Rings" and "Cruel Summer" fucking bang. "Lover" is so charming. "Soon You'll Get Better" and "Cornelia Street" are so good at wistfulness while being joyous to listen to. The fucking "Go! Fight! Win!" cheers in "Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince?" Come on. Come on!

I said on Twitter a while back that if Lover ended up being my favorite record of the year there might be a bit of a pattern - Kesha, Kacey, Taylor - that, just maybe, might have more to do with who I've been and who I'm becoming over the course of the last few years. That being a white girl who sings country. I don't disagree with that joke. But then that was also kind of the whole thing with the Valentine's Day EPs (pre-compilations) so I've been on this trajectory for a minute. If I'm honest with myself, I don't think Lover is going to have the same staying power as Rainbow or Golden Hour, but goddamn if it didn't somehow end up being my favorite thing I heard (or played or watched or read) that came out in 2019 that I experienced.

Have I mentioned how good "Paper Rings" is? I love the hell out of that song.

Wednesday, December 11, 2019

Always Bee Cooking #6: Seared Sourdough Pikelets

 (Quick note: I'm still working on longer critical pieces on the pedagogy & politics of cooking media. The going is harder than expected, so instead of defaulting on it again I'm going to use December's Always Bee Cooking to talk about a recipe I've been developing.)

The Story

At the top of this month I got a care package from one of the loveliest people I know. It included two major things. First is the chef's knife pictured below. It's 1) incredible 2) the only piece of cookware I own other than a mortar & pestle (also a gift) and 3) engraved with the name of this series, which is overwhelming.

The other major thing was a cutting of sourdough starter named Reginald. I was convinced Reginald hadn't made it; at some point in transit the jar he was in broke and he leaked out. 90% was pooled up in a corner of a cardboard box. I've never really saved anything's life before, though, so I figured now might be a good time to start.

Per instructions, I put him in a covered container and fed him warm water and flour once every twelve hours. By the time of the third or fourth feeding I started seeing some genuine signs of life. A week and change later (having missed only one or two feedings), I'm still not seeing as much of a rise as I think you're supposed to, but he's getting closer.

If you're unfamiliar with sourdough starter (as I was only a couple weeks ago) here's how you feed it: you take out one part of the starter (say 1/2 cup) then add to that part one part flour (1 cup; it's by weight, not volume) and one part warm water (1/2 cup), stir to fully incorporate, and store. The rest is the Discard.

Two parts about this freaked me out. One is that I have to have flour on hand at all times (I am confident I can figure this out). The other is the implied action. I'm the kind of person who dries celery leaves in the oven to add to spice rubs. Throwing away two (or more) cups of starter a day seems intolerable. I don't particularly recommend being this kind of person.

Those two anxieties lead me to repeatedly turn to King Arthur Flour's recipe for Sourdough Crumpets. With it I don't have to discard and I don't have to use extra flour. I've kept the ingredients and proportions more or less the same, but after a good number of variations I've locked in a technique that I quite like.

The quick version is you cook them like a thick steak: a sear sets them and creates flavor and texture, then a quick bake cooks them through. The texture is almost closer to a crusty bread or English Muffin, with a crisp snap on the outside that gives way to a fluffy, doughy consistency. And the flavor, at least with Reginald, is kind of extraordinary. Tangy, buttery, and just a little bit sweet and salty. Even when you don't use butter anywhere.

My latest discovery? This recipe works, if not quite as well, with leftover Discard. I put the Discard in a bowl in the fridge (covered with plastic wrap) for three feedings, then on the fourth made this. The results weren't as robust as using fresh discard, but they were still quite good.

The Recipe

Seared Sourdough Pikelets

  • 1 cup Sourdough Discard (roughly; I just use whatever was produced)
  • 1/2 tsp Baking Soda
  • 1 tsp Sugar
  • 1/2 tsp Salt (I'll go up to a heaping 1/2 tsp, depending on my mood; there's definitely a line you can cross though)
  • Butter/Neutral Oil
Yield: 3 hefty lil cakes in about 15-20 minutes; recipe adapted from King Arthur Flour's 


Preheat oven to 350F. Put a pan on the stove over medium. Add baking soda, sugar and salt to Discard and stir to incorporate. You now have Discard Mixture.

Add a very thin slice of butter (or a splash of oil) to the pan. If using butter, it should melt rapidly but not immediately blacken and begin to smoke - in my pan I have to cook on medium-low, because it gets really hot really fast. Dollop in enough of the Discard Mixture to stand about 1/2-inch tall.

Let cook until one or two bubbles appear on the interior, anywhere from :15 to 1:00. Flip carefully. Remember that you are not trying to cook the interior, just sear the outside. Repeat for the other side with roughly the same amount of time.

Remove to a baking sheet. Re-up on butter or oil when the pan is dry. In the same fashion, cook until you are out of Discard Mixture. From a single feeding I usually get three or four pikelets.

Once they're all done and the oven is preheated, place the sheet in the center of the oven and start a timer for five minutes. If the formerly-uncooked dough in the center looks fully set once the timer goes off, test the biggest one with a knife in the center. If it comes out clean, they're done. If not let them bake for another 2-3 minutes, then check again.

I personally tend to eat them with my hands. They carry a little jam or even a simple syrup (reduced just a minute or two past cocktail consistency) well. They also freeze well and are ideal for popping in a toaster.

Further Notes

I'm trying out this new section! This time, I'd like to suggest some possible toppings that I think might work with the recipe (with the note that I have tried none of them!):

  • Whipped Cream & Mint Chiffonade: ribbons of mint with a dollop of sweet whip cream would present beautifully and, I suspect, add a nice heady quality.
  • Butter: It's already there, and teasing it out would be nice. I might go for a heaping half teaspoon of salt on this one, especially if you're using unsalted butter.
  • Blueberries & Chorizo: I can imagine a version of this where drop some blueberries into each dollop as you're searing, then top it with some cooked, crumbly chorizo. The longer I think about it the more I'm convinced this would either be sublime or truly wretched.

Monday, September 23, 2019

Always Bee Cooking #5: The Herb Butter Pasta Photoessay

 The way I tend to blather on in these posts is definitely a product of my own insecurity. My cooking is fairly recent, my history of taste nonexistent. I've covered that before. Plus, I plan on blathering at length next month when I talk about the things I've found useful (and not so) in the learning process, specifically around shows and books. So this month I'm just going to do one recipe, accompanied by a photoessay.

This herb butter pasta is maybe the only recipe I feel like I really deserve to share. I've been tinkering with it for well over a year, evolving it as my understanding does and eating the results the whole time. I hope you enjoy.

I should note: this isn't dinner party food. It's "I couldn't be fucked to do more but I need to be full" food, and it's good at that.

What You Need:

  • 1 packet spaghetti
  • Dried Herbs (Sage, Thyme, Black Peppercorn, Basil)
  • Butter (~¾ of a stick or ~4 spoonfuls Earth Balance)
  • Salt
  • Mortar & Pestle (optional)

Bring a decent-sized pot to a boil, salting the water liberally. Seriously, it's all the salt we're going to use and a good amount of it is going to get dumped with the water. Don't skimp.

While the water is coming to a boil, grind up thyme, peppercorns, and basil in the mortar and pestle. You're going to want 12-15 full black peppercorns, and roughly a 2.5:1 ratio of thyme to basil. Be generous. If you're using fresh sage, pulverize it at the same time; if dried, add it to the mortar & pestle after grinding. Roughly 1:1 with the thyme - maybe as much as 1.5:1.

If you don't have a mortar and pestle, that's fine. It's just a slightly different texture. You might want to leave the butter on medium-low a little longer to let the unmuddled herbs incorporate. Likely just 3-4 minutes rather than 2-3.

Once the water is boiling, add the spaghetti. Cook according to package instructions (probably around 10 minutes, stirring occasionally).

Put a pan over medium-low heat. Once it has heated up (probably when you have about 5-7 minutes left on the spaghetti) add the butter/Earth Balance. When the butter is mostly melted, add the herbs. Stir to incorporate. When the butter is entirely melted and the herbs have had a couple minutes to infuse, turn the burner to low to keep everything melted.

Reserve about a half-bowl (the one you're going to eat out of works) worth of the spaghetti water and drain the rest. Add the drained spaghetti back to the pot and pour in the herb butter and reserved water. Stir to combine. Serve. You'll have roughly 6 bowls worth.

Refrigerate any leftovers in tupperware; I suspect they'll stay good for some time, but I've never had them last more than a week or so. Reheating in a pan (with just barely enough butter to coat the bottom) over medium heat is nice.

Alternatives:

Grate some parmesan on it.

Boil some frozen peas while cooking and throw them in. It's not fancy, but I've done it a lot and it works (and at least feels healthier). Maybe go lighter on the sage with this version, since the peas are already earthy.

If you do want fancy (and more filling), toss sticked-carrots and broccoli florets in a little bit of oil, salt, pepper, garlic-, onion-, & celery leaf-powder, then roast at 400 degrees on a baking sheet. Halved brussel sprouts work well here too, as do cauliflower florets. Most veggies you can roast will, I think.

Check after about ten minutes, then every five until they reach desired doneness. I like to pull them when the carrots are just starting to lose their crunch, usually around minute 15-20. Add after the herb butter. The juice of half a lemon can really brighten everything up as well.

Photoessay:

Photos of some of the alternatives (from a while back) (my phone camera sucks and always has sorry)

Wednesday, August 28, 2019

Always Bee Cooking #4: Making Weird, Making Useful

 This month, I’ve been experiencing a ton of new things. I baked (first Cloud Eggs, then three different attempts at bread, all of which turned out interesting in their ways, some even good) for the first time, after being terrified of the precision. I made a soup out of horseradish, because why not? I made homemade cheese and then put it on a spinach & pearled barley salad. I had never whipped anything to stiff peaks, separated curds from whey, kneaded something or waited for it to rise before August of 2019. Pretty presumptuous of me to start a cooking blog, right?

That previous sentence is a joke, but it’s also probably pretty sincere. Especially if I keep focusing on recipes. Because it feels a bit weird to say: I’ve baked bread thrice, here, you should do it this way. There really aren’t that many dishes I can say I’ve made enough times to know that I’m doing them about as right as I can.

I’ve also harped on my own lack of taste, for historical and other reasons. Which, if nothing else, leads to a tremendous amount of anxiety around food. Knowing that I’d be content eating 7-11 pizza six days out of seven (it’s not that long since I was doing just that) contributes. Which lead to me thinking through some of that, and what I value out of cooking, in this short Twitter thread.

The rundown is that I noticed that there were two heads of garlic that were actively rotting in our house, so I pulled them apart, discarded the rotten cloves, minced the ones that weren’t bad, and dehydrated them in the oven at 170°F (that might technically be toasting them, I guess?) to turn into garlic powder. I added this to the powders of celery leaves, carrot leaves, lemon zest, and onion (from freeze-dried) that I keep in little Tupperware containers alongside my store-bought spices. I tweeted about it because I realized doing that was about as gratifying to me as was baking my first genuinely good loaf of bread and managing to make a really excellent rub for pork tenderloin out of garlic, celery leaf, salt, pepper, cumin, thyme, and coriander in a mortar & pestle the same day.

It feels like, as a cook (or a chef or whatever), you’re supposed to be way into using good ingredients to make a distinct, filling, flavorful meal to share with others. At least more than you are about mincing some garlic and checking on it every forty-five minutes in a low oven. I’m not? Not more than, at least.

I think it was around 2006 that I released my first song. As I recall it was a short repetition of a few chords, played on my dorm roommate’s guitar, recorded into a laptop speaker. I made it because I was part of a crew that thought it would be fun to make bad (or weird or unpalatable) stuff and seed it onto last.fm to hopefully foul up their “tag radio” (radio stations that selected random songs from user-generated tags). We evolved from there.

I remember telling that crew that I wanted to create material more than songs. Weird, annoying shit that was also potentially useful. When I released my first album, An Emotional Guitar, sometime early in the next year, I think it was five songs long with a remix of each. That first song became this (featured in the video); I remixed this one and another friend made this. I’m not sure what happened with the rest.

You could boil me down to: Make weird shit. Make useful shit. Those are still the dual, often competing drives that define the things I make, most of the time.

Wait a second, I just realized I lied on accident at the top of this. I’m going to go make the video that appears at the top of this post.

I had baked before, and fairly often. Just potatoes. I also can’t believe I didn’t include a baked potato on the initial post on this blog, Potatoes and Transitions. Seems like an oversight that’s fairly easy to correct. Especially now that I have a bunch of homemade spices that I can use to great effect here. Make useful shit, you know?

Recipe:

What you need:

  • Oil (Olive probably preferred, I use Canola)
  • Salt, Pepper, other spices
  • A Potato

What to do:

  • Preheat your oven to 425°F.
  • Wash your potato. Stab it with a fork 2-3 times per side, around four sides. Place in a bowl or over a plate. Pour some oil on it and rub it in. Wash your hands.
  • Add spices – at least salt and pepper, though some garlic powder, onion powder, and dehydrated celery leaf/carrot leaf powder can also be excellent. Lightly coat evenly.
  • Put your potato in the preheated oven. Check after 20 minutes, rotating if desired. It should take about 40-60 minutes, depending on your oven and the size of the potato.
  • Dress as desired – for the video I split it in half lengthwise using a fork and some pressure and used a mixture of sour cream, cream horseradish, and a drop of ghost pepper hot sauce. Sorry it ends up looking like shit by the way, it’s for eating though.



Credits:

Camera Operator: ijkanada

The Rest Of The Stuff: Bee

Monday, August 26, 2019

Hieron and its Consequences

This essay was made possible by my Patreon supporters. Join and get access to early criticism, a cooking blog, or even commission me!

I should also note that there are things that might be considered spoilers for
Twilight Mirage and aspects of Hieron and Marielda. I’m a bad judge of what people think of as spoilers, though. It’s mostly in broad terms. Skip the sections that begin "Much later in the show we'll find out," "One example of consequences," and "An example: there is a moment in" (and the 3 following paragraphs) if you don't want later-season specifics; in general if you're very sensitive to that kind of thing, maybe come back to this.

Ignorance and Consequences

In episode 12 of Autumn in Hieron, the first season of Friends at the Table, a player does something I’m still in love with. In the decade and a half I’ve been playing tabletop roleplaying games it stands out as my favorite moment of tabletop roleplay of all time.

There are plenty of contenders. It’s hard not to give that to the time a Bard in the game I was running performed a song (in real life) for a potlatch festival for her character’s Sweet 16. Or when a player incapacitated another and then died falling off a building (three times) while trying to break back into the room to add their ear to a necklace. It’s hard to place it above inventing a gym bro to date a football bro in the middle of the tragic horror apocalypse game Ten Candles, or another Ten Candles game where Cathy (like, Ack! Cathy) rolled a half-dozen successes (and kept narrative control) on the last roll, or any moment when a player I’m GMing for lights up for the first time, suddenly understanding the appeal of what we’re doing.

There are even moments in other Actual Play podcasts, like Adventure.exe or The Adventure Zone or The Film Reroll or Interstitial, when character and world meet to bring about a decision that is inspired, surprising, and inevitable.

None of those, though, had the same impact on me as the decision to feed a Word Eater "ignorance."

*****


Friends at the Table is an Actual Play podcast about critical worldbuilding, smart characterization, and fun interactions between good friends (at least that's what they say at the top of most episodes). It started in September of 2014, with episode 12 happening in December of that year.

At this point they've run three seasons (plus one mini-season) of Hieron, a post-post-apocalyptic, post-Fantasy world where orcs are archivists obsessed with patterns, the world is a palimpsest of the gods' failed experiments, and the cancerous nothing known as the Heat and the Dark looms.

Between those seasons they've also explored a science fiction universe inspired by cyberpunk, mecha anime, and labor called the Divine Universe. They create all of this fiction by playing tabletop roleplaying games like Dungeon World, Blades in the Dark, Follow, and a number of other systems where they "play to find out what happens" live in front of microphones, then edit and release it on a weekly basis.

I started listening sometime late in 2014 and have continued to since. Just as they are approaching their fifth anniversary, they are also wrapping up the world of Hieron. For both sentimental and topical reasons, then, I'm focusing on the Hieron seasons of the show for this essay. To that end, I've relistened to all of those seasons in the last month or so. It's all still incredibly compelling.

*****


So: Word Eaters turn out to be what made goblins into what they are. You know goblins, probably. Little green humanoids, barely capable of language, fodder for adventurers, obsessed with trinkets. Loose anti-Semitic stereotypes, in the case of most Fantasy fiction. In Hieron, they howl in the distance. They also invite the players into a cozy home and let them read books, drink tea, and rest. They are people, some more dispossessed than others.

While resting with one of the friendlier goblins, the adventurers find out about Kindrali (also known as "He Who Remembers the Day," which becomes relevant two years later). They seek out Kindrali. They find him. He is a little off. Quick to resort to sarcasm and smirks. They find him again. Kindrali is a decayed corpse, who happens to be in the same room as the false Kindrali they are talking to. They put two and two together.

In a typical session of a tabletop roleplaying game, this is a very well put together fight. The GM has established an NPC that can give some color to the world while remaining unreliable. The players find him on good information, and then have something to go on after. A battle is had and won despite seemingly insurmountable odds.

Instead of that action, a single word is said.

*****


My latest relisten helped me realize that there are two things that Friends at the Table does particularly well, especially when it comes to Seasons of Hieron. One of those I won't get into until after I finish the story of the Word Eater. The other, which I'll develop alongside that story, is what I think the GM and the players do best. They build critical worlds with aplomb, characterize themselves impeccably, and have genuinely funny social banter. One of the other things they focus on, though, is dramatic irony.

Regularly, the players will know things their characters don't. They play through this. The characters make choices that are against their own best interests, because the characters don't know any better (even though the players do).

Based on what they've produced, this seems to be an internal guideline - play into dramatic irony. But I appreciate it mostly as one aspect of a broader commitment. The stories they tell are deeply committed to consequences.

*****


Much later in the show we'll find out that Word Eaters are something like incipient gods. Or, at least, that the gods were made in the same fashion. "Nothing flinched" and then there was Samol, or Hieron, the world and its avatar, one and the same. Samol’s desire to see the world full of life birthed Severea, and his desire to provide for people birthed Samothes.

The pantheon of five are rounded out by Galenica, who was birthed of the desires of people, and Samot, husband to Samothes, who stole Severea’s name when he was a Word Eater (emissaries or avatars of that same Nothing that flinched) and then apologized. Samothes and Samot then had a son, Maelgwyn, who became Samothes by murdering his father in attempt to birth a new god out of the experience of regret.

Whether Word Eater, desire, or absence of nothing, each of these gods are the speech act made material. Instead of simply doing by saying – as in an officiator declaring "I now pronounce you man and wife" effecting matrimony on two individuals – they are by saying. At the beginning of Spring in Hieron, the final season in this world, one of the players spends a few (in game) years hanging out with Samol. They develop an inside joke about how boring it was to be the first thing in the world. The refrain of that joke is simple: "There was no one to talk to."

Samol never says, to the best of my recollection, that he spoke Severea and Samothes into existence. But this is a podcast, where nothing happens unless it is said aloud. And it’s a tabletop roleplaying game, where the Lumpley Principle rules: "nothing happens, in the fiction of role-playing, unless someone says it and it's heard by others," to quote the gloss from The Big Model wiki. Hieron can’t be anything other than a speech act, because it’s a recorded conversation. And Samol is Hieron, and Samol made gods of his desires and of a Word Eater.

Whether a Word Eater or a God birthed of another’s desire, speech acts (“speech ontos” seems a little pretentious even for me) are fickle. They eat "regret" and become tyrants, obsessed only with reshaping a world-eating cancer into a productive force. They focus on the concept of a storm and blanket the world in ice. They steal the names of cities, causing civil war.

This Kindrali that the adventurers encounter is in some ways the most fickle of all. He stole the city’s name and was unsatisfied, consuming more and more words. Which is another reason it is poetic that he ends up being dispatched by just one word.

*****


I wrote a very long version of the following argument about a half-decade ago. I present it in a truncated form here for two reasons. The first is that I want to make it clear what my convictions are when it comes to these sorts of games. The second comes at the end of this minor section.

Tabletop roleplaying games are at their best when there is a dialectical tension between the GM and the players. The GM rules the world. She sets up situations, guides the players through them, plays the people they encounter, and enforces the rules. The players take control of one person within the world, embodying them to the best of their abilities. When they press hard enough, the world breaks.

When they push even harder, though, there is a synthesis. The players take over the vestigial roles of the GM. This is a relic of the history of these games that I don't need to get into. But they become, rather than co-authors in the creation of a story, its cooperative owners. The person who runs the game - usually the one with access to the books (the capital, so to speak) - is dispossessed of their control, becoming nothing more than someone who can adapt to the new norm, get reeducated according to it, or wither away. The stakes are a little lower than real life, so the players probably don’t have to literally take The Coup’s advice.

These games start in social interactions: friends come together to hang out and have an activity to participate in while doing so. They become commodified by way of rulebooks, social capital, and the simple fact of organizing time outside of wage labor. When they really work, though, the commodity is overthrown. People go from loose hangouts to structured, commodified hangouts, to hangouts they are truly equal in. And they hopefully learn to better relate to each other because of the game played.

That second thing? It’s the thing that Friends at the Table does so well – focusing on, embracing, and exploring consequences. That’s the way to play games into their own little revolutions.

*****


Here's the story: after visiting the friendly goblin Mee Kosh, The Great Fantasmo (the Wizard, played by Nick Scratch), Throndir (the Ranger, played by Andrew Lee Swan), and Hadrian (the Paladin, played by Art Martinez-Tebbel) scout out some caves to find Kindrali. They do. He talks to them. They discover the corpse of Kindrali in the same room. The impostor Kindrali, a Word Eater, prepares to devour them. The Great Fantasmo leans into this false Kindrali and summons up his memories. He says one word.

In play and as a podcast, this involves Nick Scratch describing things his character is feeling, remembering, and projecting. Things like being a young academic, full of fear at his new surroundings and the impostor syndrome that develops from it. Worry at how people think of him. Misery at the prospect of failure. Horror at how he used to feel all these things.

In this same moment, Nick Scratch is actively characterizing The Great Fantasmo. The Wizard is cocky and self-assured to the point of absurdity, a miserable traveling partner. He is bookish in the most infuriating way possible, obsessed with learning what is right without doing anything. He is a small-minded man operating with all the tools to pretend he is as open-minded as they come. He is insufferable, and his player knows this. So his player calls upon all his small-mindedness, his pettiness, his jealousy, his insecurity, and banishes a potential god from existence.

*****


An example of consequences being a driving principle of play in Friends at the Table is the situation being described. The GM set up an encounter. It’s a big fight that caps off a portion of the adventure. The GM almost certainly spent time drawing up a sheet full of hit points, moves, character motivations, and an imagined scenario in which the players eke out victory. This disappears once it becomes clear what The Great Fantasmo is doing.

The play is too compelling, the fiction too interesting, to revert to what was prepared. It is to Austin’s credit that he recognizes this; many GMs would not. The consequences are entirely too cool to dissolve back into a discussion of how much damage one person does, regardless of the lost hours spent preparing those hit points.

Other examples abound throughout the show. In the first season of the Divine Universe, COUNTER/Weight, a player gets a girlfriend by failing a bunch of rolls in a row, only to succeed at the one that matters. It’s important because she flirts through it. Autumn in Hieron also has a moment where a character dies in combat and can only come back to life if she promises to kill Death’s son, one of her only friends. She does. Three times – he is, after all, Death’s son.

There is also the way that Austin sometimes handles failed rolls, like the one Keith (who plays Fero, the Druid, and the character who hangs out with Samol during Spring) managed in Winter in Hieron when trying to convince Uklan Tel, an orc who might be the most accomplished academic in Hieron, to make a difference. The failure leads to Uklan Tel agreeing and throwing himself into field research. Two (real life) years down the line, that field research (in Spring, which is set over ten years later) ends up with him semi-inadvertently providing materials to help an apocalyptic cult give body to an undead god-dragon in order to hasten the end of the world.

Twilight Mirage, the second season in the Divine Universe, has as many examples as the rest (though I’m boiling each down to one apiece). One that might not seem like a consequence is the last fifteen (or so) minutes of the final episode of the season. The player characters check in with Gig Kephart (also played by Keith), a livestreamer in the post-Utopian titular universe. They answer a handful of canned interview questions in ways that are wholesome, humorous, and tear-inducing.

It’s not like the consequence of mechanical failure that lead to Uklan Tel, or the strength of roleplaying(/flirting) in mechanical failure that lead to a girlfriend, or the consequence of figuring out character alignment that lead to the death of Death’s Son. It’s more about how roleplaying can lead to a compelling world with fascinating people in it and how, left alone to do their thing, they can become consequential.

*****


The moment The Great Fantasmo banishes the Word Eater comes out of two specific moves in Dungeon World. The first is Art Tebbel's. He asks "what here is Evil?" He has a quest, established in a much earlier episode; he cannot suffer an evil thing to live. The GM confirms that this Word Eater is evil. Because of that, he can't leave. His fellow adventurers must make a choice: split the party and leave, or support him. This move is used effectively throughout much of the rest of the Hieron seasons, especially in developing a complicated and beautiful relationship with another player's character.

The second is a Spout Lore roll by Nick Scratch, where he attempts to learn about the Word Eater. Scratch rolls a "mixed success," which means he learns something "interesting but not useful." The interesting fact is that the Word Eater is very old, the eater of the word that lead to the goblins becoming what they are. Before they became "goblins" they were citizens, co-creators of the city that Throndir is from. They were people, not monsters. And this Word Eater was one who ate that knowledge and continued to eat more and more.

Nick Scratch, the player of The Great Fantasmo, takes this "interesting but not useful" knowledge and runs with it. This specific Word Eater isn't content to consume regret and live forever instrumentalizing cancer. It wants more. So he gives it a new word, wrapped up in the context of himself, the character. In so doing, he establishes The Great Fantasmo. He turns subtext into text; the insufferable academic turns into a rounded-out human being (elf), with all the pettiness that involves. And he wins a fight in a tabletop roleplaying game without having to indulge in hours of rolling to hit, rolling damage, rolling to avoid damage, rolling to figure out how to do damage, and on and on.

*****


If you’ve never played in or run a tabletop roleplaying game, the importance of establishing consequences might sound like a truism. Even if you have, it probably does. What I appreciate about Friends at the Table – among many other things – is how it clarifies that it isn’t something that just happens automatically. Like gender, it’s a choice you regularly make and perform.

Consequences are hard. They can be about rewarding good play, thinking beyond what the players are doing, punishing failure in interesting ways, or making the stakes of the world clear. All of these things help shape an interesting fiction. They can also be about how we relate to each other.

Because the most regular consequence, when playing roleplaying games, is alienating your friends. Things go great until they don’t, and then the group dissolves.

It might be in a moment that upsets or triggers another player and doesn’t get worked through, and so ends up contributing to a toxic environment. Or it might be the consequence of failing to properly organize the game in the first place, leading to its slow and (seemingly) inevitable dissolution. Which leads to lost friendships, which leads to lost opportunities to think through things or to collaborate on projects. Or, at a basic level, to enjoy the company of others.

Turning the reality of consequences into themes, as Friends at the Table does, is a helpful way of imagining (or remembering) what consequences actually are. They’re failed rolls, in the sense of fucking up a social situation. They’re roleplaying too well, in the sense of being who you are at that particular moment too insistently, for good or ill. They’re moments of social beauty, when you’ve set up social situations to include people who make you want to cry because they are so good at making and doing things in this terrible world.

Fictionalizing the broad reality of consequences won’t suddenly make a listener understand something that they refuse to. Especially if they have material reasons not to, which are too easy to imagine under white supremacist patriarchal capitalism. But sometimes fiction pushes you in new directions, whether you want it to or not.

*****


The resolution to The Great Fantasmo whispering "ignorance" into the Word Eater's ear is both immediate and long-term. Immediately, the players and the GM have a moment of shock and appreciation. Long-term, Kindrali becomes a character in the mini-season of Marielda, the Word Eaters are recast as potential gods, and the whole religious structure is changed.

Around the same time as this is happening, the other group of players is on a boat. One jokes about undead pirates. A whole ontology is birthed out of that joke. Play is respected, whether it is in character (like Fantasmo's) or out of character (like the joke about zombie pirates). The whole point of an Actual Play podcast is that it isn't a story. It's a storytelling exercise that gets modified by randomization.

Which brings us to the end of this story and this analysis. Which means it’s time to talk about the other thing Friends at the Table does especially well.

**********


Fiction, Produced by Deconstruction


Here are two questions: why should you listen to people playing tabletop roleplaying games, week by week? What is it about this method of telling stories that works?

For the first, I can’t exactly say that I do. I tend to take long breaks and then catch up. Following an Actual Play podcast week to week ends up being a chore for me, as I try to remember things over the play. I end up listening in big chunks – whole seasons or arcs, ideally – sporadically. I’m also not spoiler-averse and don’t have a tendency (or material requirement) to keep up with the conversation, which helps. (Thus this behemoth of an essay, primarily about something that happened on Friends at the Table five years ago.) The release schedule has more to do with the "podcast" element than it does the "actual play," given that podcasts are business as well as art.

To the question of why do it at all, there’s a fairly obvious answer. It’s fiction. Friends at the Table is very good fiction. Themes of labor and organization co-exist with a deep sadness and frustration with the world, are shot through with joy in victory and play, and shine through in a genuinely felt world full to brimming with people. Most of whom have very good names. Perhaps you enjoy fiction? This is one way to do so.

But then, despite a number of attempts, I’ve never been able to stick with fiction podcasts. I’ve listened to a hundred or so episodes of Welcome to Night Vale (it was a weird week), a dozen or two of Strange Horizons, a handful of episodes from various Escape Artists properties, and even some of The Writer's Voice from The New Yorker. Each had their merits (some more than others), but they ultimately ended up reminding me that my brain simply doesn’t work in that way. In a very specific environment I can enjoy audiobooks. There’s something about listening to someone clearly read something off a page that immediately blanks my mind.

It even happens in Actual Play podcasts, if I’m being honest. Friends at the Table will occasionally have intro speeches – generally by Austin, playing one of the NPCs – for instance. Or The Adventure Zone will have extended descriptive sequences that are pre-written. I have to struggle to pay attention when that happens, which is very unlike the rest of the listening experience for those podcasts.

Which leads us to the second question. What works, here? There are the specific answers we’ve already addressed: strong play that leads to compelling situations with interesting resonance; structural choices that emphasize the strengths of the genre. There are also the things we’ve touched lightly on, like critical worldbuilding that uses existing tropes in new ways that undermine their racist origins, enjoyable banter among friends, and more.

All of these are procedural. They’re points about the process of the fiction, rather than the content or its themes. This is important, because what Actual Play does – and what Friends at the Table does particularly well – is to collapse form into process. It is deconstructive, even deconstructionist. The creation is the act of creating.

So what works about this method of telling stories? It’s that they don’t just tell. They show. And not like the CIA-approved maxim. They show how the decisions are come to, what is left to chance or whim, what is painstakingly crafted ahead of time or after the fact. They tell a compelling story while showing how it is made compelling.

An example: there is a moment in Spring in Hieron when Hella Varal, Lem King, and Adaire Ducarte fight a bone dragon. It’s a bravura sequence. Adaire, the Thief (played by Janine Hawkins), comes with a plan to hogtie this animated dragon corpse. Lem, the Bard (played by Jack de Quidt), makes a beautiful mess of everything while still being helpful. Hella, the Dark Knight (fka the Fighter, played by Alicia Acampora), carries the combat. Until she dies. Almost.

Near the end of combat, there is another moment. The players have succeeded so many times, only to fail. They’re fighting a dragon. That failure has to mean something. Hella is given a choice: keep a ring and get killed, or let it go and live. The dragon has been fighting for this ring the whole sequence. It’s clearly important. Plus, Hella’s girlfriend is literally the god of Death. She’s come a long way since she killed the previous god of death’s son. And the rules say you roll when you get killed. You have, roughly, a 15% chance of being totally fine; a 40% chance of getting a bargain to stay alive; and a 40% chance that your character truly, irrevocably dies. There have been a handful of these rolls across the years, and no one has failed.

The act of listening to how that gets decided is very constructive. Alicia acts in seven different ways, despite only having two options – to roll or not to, to grab the ring or not to. She works through narrative framing (obviously the hero grabs the ring to spite the dragon), character framing (Hella has been carrying this ring on her person for over a decade without thinking about it), social framing (if the GM declares this ring important, the player should obviously protect it), fictional framing (Hella’s dating Death, getting stomped on can’t possibly be that bad!), more fictional framing (the cancerous nothing they know as the Heat and the Dark is almost certainly at play and far more powerful than the Queen of Death), and more. The rest of the people on the podcast talk her through these moments, offering their opinions, providing context where they can. It’s fraught.

As I recall, Austin Walker suggests the possibility of a break, Jack de Quidt reinforces it, and Austin ultimately enforces it. They break (for five minutes, according to the published audio; who knows what that means) and come back. Alicia makes the decision she makes, and it helps clarify who Hella is at this moment, what her priorities are, what the world will continue to look like, and what the endgame of this final season in Hieron is going to look like.

I feel like it is important to reiterate here: this is all part of the text. I’m not recounting what I think must have happened based on the fictional events that transpired. I’m recounting what I’ve listened to a couple of times now. This is the fiction.

The fiction is also the history of Samol, Samot, Samothese, Severea, and Galenica, and the adventures of The Great Fantasmo and Throndir and Hadrian and Hella and Adaire and Lem and Ephrim and Fero, and the lives of Red Jack and The Lardwulf and Uklan Tel and Lenny Lenova and the Sage of the Sands and Emmanuel and Walligan Upchurch and Hedy Braum and many more. It’s the reconfiguring of Marielda and the updating maps of the world as the apocalypses come and go, and it’s the story of the development of community in the Last University and Velas and Rosemerrow and The New Archives.

It’s a Fantasy world (post-Fantasy, post-post-apocalyptic), in other words. There are a profusion of proper nouns that gain resonance only once you’ve experienced the world in which they’re set. But unlike Tolkien or Martin or Brooks or Kingdom Hearts, the way this world is told isn’t as set in stone. Or more accurately, the way the world is told includes all the deliberation, the consequences, the ignorance of people figuring it out in real time.

There are things that are supposed to grab you in a narrative. The flow, the pacing, the excitement. Crafted things. Big fights. Consequential moments. And there are the things that tend to grab me: strange choices, awkward characterizations, moments of resistance. Actual Play podcasts at their best manage a synthesis of these two kinds of taste.

What happens at the end of that (alleged) five minute break is incidental. No matter how Alicia chooses, the fact of getting to hear the choice being proposed and then made is fascinating.

What’s important is how the discussion around that break, the break itself, and the consequences of it are all part of the recording. It’s all part of the text. Remember: playing into dramatic irony – things the players know that the characters don’t – is, as far as I (a fairly avid listener) can tell, a principle of the show. The actors are alienated from their characters. The listener is alienated, because of that, from the fiction. It’s all very Brechtian. Except that it ends up producing tear-jerking, laugh-inducing, cathartic moments, just like the best bourgeois fiction.

This is what it comes down to. Friends at the Table manages to straddle that line between being deeply critical of the stories we tell because they make us feel good under the particular, deeply immiserating, iteration of capitalism we currently live under, and telling those same stories very well. It does this by actively deconstructing the stories as it tells them. Other Actual Play podcasts engage in the same deconstruction, by the fact of their form, but don’t engage with consequence the same way.

So, to ask again: why should you listen to people playing tabletop roleplaying games, week by week? What is it about this method of telling stories that works?

For the first: you shouldn’t; as a recent Variety article makes clear, the podcasting business is currently being gentrified. A platform-capitalist takeover is happening, the same way it did the web a decade and change ago. Unless you’re committed to engaging with the fringes and opposing that gentrification.

And for the second: if you’re interested in good fiction, and you’re interested in one process by which it’s made at the same time, you have something to look forward to. If you have a familiarity with tabletop roleplaying games, even better. Hearing a story be actively deconstructed as it is produced continues to be a thrill. Even five years after I started listening.





PS: Lord Ephrim, the Baron (fka the Immolator, played by Sylvi) is also an incredible character and I regret not having space for him in this. So I just want to shout out Sylvi: like everyone else on this podcast she is an inspiring roleplayer, and if there’s one episode of Friends at the Table to listen to it’s episode 9 of COUNTER/Weight, where she drives some incredible scenes.

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