The Last of Us

I finished The Last of Us the other day on the PS3.

It is a very, very good game, one of the best I’ve ever encountered, but kinda rough on the emotions. It’s going to take some processing before I’m ready to play anything like it again. It is probably the most violent game I have ever played, and I use the word ‘violent’ in the emotional sense as well as the physical. Playing it for a few hours sends you on a bit of roller-coaster of fear and apprehension. My jaw hurt after each session, because I’d been unconsciously clenching my teeth while playing. That is immersion.

Saying even a little about the game here will easily spill over into spoiler-territory. H, watching me play, was less apprehensive¬† simply by virtue of reading the Wikipedia page and thus revealing the important plot points. I did not and experienced it directly. I can’t say if some advance warning for certain parts of the game might have helped with the mental bruising. I doubt it; it’s a very visceral experience.

So brief spoilers for those having played follow.

Obviously the opening sequence is particularly brutal and sets the tone of the entire game – bad things are going to happen. That said, the sequence below the hotel where you have to start up the generator was pretty scary, but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t felt before. The death of the little kid and his brother was horrific, but I saw it coming.

What really disturbed me, though, was the entire sequence in the abandoned restaurant, with David stalking Ellie. Now Ellie had more than taken care of herself up until that point – and continued to do so – but for god’s sake, she’s still 14. The real tragedy of that particular version of a zombie apocalypse is not humans killing other humans – that’s always going to happen – but 14-year-olds having to kill, and do it alone, as she does with David. Not to say that anything Joel does – murder, torture, etc – is automatically somehow more acceptable – he’s older, is all.

The ending, I thought, was particularly effective. There’s no big boss fight, no Ellie-kills-Joel or Joel-kills-Ellie. Just a quiet moment of realization about how complicated their relationship has become, to the point that Joel lies to her and she lies – at least in my mind – about believing it.

Saga

What’s in a word? Quite a bit of money. I’ve written about Candy Crush Saga here before. Now King has gone and done something with the boatloads of money it has earned from its titles that deserves major opprobrium: try to push around a indie PC studio whose game has nothing to do with clicking on candy. Stoic’s game, The Banner Saga, isn’t an iOS game. It’s an epic Viking narrative that I’ve played that actually knows what the word ‘saga’ means. Completely different market, type, platform, you name it. No way anyone’s ever going to confuse the two things – save a lawyer.

Oddly enough, giving someone a taste of power – in this particular example, a Scrooge McDuck level of money – transforms what should be the relatively ethical enterprise of making games into “defending trademark,” which is, I argue, an essentially odious activity that has zero to do with being human. Now King does face a real problem in that they are facing copycat titles that attempt to associate themselves with their brand. What do I have to say to that? Tough cookies.¬† It must be difficult to swim in that vault full of cash. So sad!

Temping and unions

This story reminds me of a union drive when I was a temp.

Right before I starting teaching as a TA in graduate school in Memphis, 2003-2004, I spent some time as a temp at a company called Solectron that repaired laptops, printers, and Xboxes. I made about $10.50 an hour doing warranty repair on a variety of IBM Thinkpads and some Gateway laptops. With a BA and experience as a technical editor and writer, I was taking a pretty big hit to the paycheck, but jobs were hard to find and I had retreated back to Memphis, ready to accept anything that came along.

It was a bit like I would imagine working in an medieval guild; in the middle of a huge warehouse, we sat closely together at long work benches and had the laptops delivered to us on wheeled racks throughout the day. I usually worked the 7-4 shift. The job was very fast-paced. We were trained to fix a laptop in less than an hour; we practiced by taking apart and putting back together various models over and over until the motions became second nature. To this day I could take apart a T or X series in seconds. And we needed that speed, because while I was there, we went from 8 laptops fixed in a day to 10 and sometimes 12. Older workers told me it had used to be 6. There was constant pressure to increase productivity, because as I understood it through rumors that swept across the warehouse floor from bench to bench, as well as official pronouncements, that Solectron wasn’t doing well and had mishandled its contract negotiations with IBM and Compaq and HP and Microsoft, leaving scant money for temps, especially hiring them full-time. So I figured out that speed and accuracy would help me keep my job, but the chance of a raise or advancement was zero. At one point I was the fastest repairer in the IBM section, but I deliberately slowed down, realizing (too slowly for my taste, looking back) that I was getting nothing out of it.

Anyway, at one point while I was there, a union drive started. It was limited to the full-timers; the many temps would not get a vote. In any case, FTers and temps were steered into rooms where we watched some really bad anti-union videos and were lectured on the evils of unions, including the reality that the plant would close if the union was let in – what the article above calls a “captive audience meeting.” I said nothing; I needed my job a little longer until I had 18 graduate hours and could teach, and as a temp,¬† I couldn’t vote anyway. In any case, the union drive failed by a huge margin.

I took another pay cut when I left; teaching as a TA at the UofM, while a lot of fun, paid perhaps half that of temping, and provided no summer employment, which I always had to scramble for.

I’m not saying my time as a temp was bad – it filled a space when I really needed work, allowed me to maintain an apartment and a car, and mostly worked with a night graduate school schedule – but I was well underpaid, as I’m sure that Amazon pickers and other warehouse employees are.

Happy holidays

It’s a pretty lazy holidays for me so far. I’m sitting here with the dogs at my feet, doing some ancillary reading for a spring project. Tomorrow we go see my mother and stepfather and grandmother, which is good.

Some other good news recently – another accepted article, this time at Rhetorica (see the About page) – though I don’t know when it will appear. This one is particularly important as it’s the first time a chapter from my dissertation has made it to print. Previously I had a big idea from a chapter appear (the article on Origen) but not a whole rewritten chapter. So I’m pleased.