I thought I’d do a little post that’s more personal than some of the other stuff I’ve written lately. So here are some things that have been going on in my life over the past few months, with plenty of photos included!
BrickUniverse LEGO Convention
At the end of January, I went to the BrickUniverse LEGO Convention in Chattanooga, Tennessee. My partner and I went with my cousin for his birthday. It was fascinating to see all of the pieces of art that people made using LEGOs, often in ways you wouldn’t expect. The amount of detail on each piece was impressive, some of them taking hours, days, weeks, and months to complete.
We had a great time viewing everything at the convention, but my favorite part was definitely the construction pictured above. If you look closely, you can see runes on the building and a cipher at the bottom. We used the cipher to translate the runes, and we ended up winning a robot dog to build ourselves as a prize for being the ones who were able to decipher the most before the time ran out.
This is the first installment of a new series I’m beginning on this blog called “GOTY Contender.” I’m planning on playing a lot of new releases this year, and this will hopefully help me keep track of my favorites. At the end of the year, I’ll pick my top game of the year from this list and do a special post on it.
It’s not often that upon finishing a game I turn around and immediately start playing it again from the beginning, especially if it’s a narrative game. Season: A Letter to the Future is a notable exception and already a contender for my personal game of the year. I wasn’t ready to let it go. I still had some unfinished scrapbook pages, more of the world to explore, and ultimately, I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.
In Season, you play as Estelle, a young woman who’s leaving her home village for the first time. In the world of the game, prophetic dreams hold weight and meaning, and Estelle’s best friend has experienced such a dream. This leads Estelle on a journey to document the end of a season, or era of time, and take her findings to a museum archive in a faraway city. She’s equipped with a bicycle, a scrapbook, a Polaroid camera, and an audio recorder. She uses the latter three to document everything she finds as she explores Tieng Valley, a culturally significant place that will soon be flooded and lost to time.
Season is a meditative game, as you spend most of it riding your bike around, exploring, and listening to Estelle’s thoughts on the world around her. You meet a few people along the way, those who are clinging on to the last vestiges of the Valley before they must evacuate. It excels at environmental storytelling, relying on your exploration to learn about the world and its seasons instead of spoon-feeding you exposition.
Most of all, Season feels deliberate. There’s a moment toward the beginning of the game when Estelle says she’s going to think about what kind of visitor she wants to be, and the game seems to have a message about tourism and what it means to enter another place and adhere to its customs, to remain an observer and chronicler without altering or ogling. And Tieng Valley is especially important for visitors at this moment because it will soon be no more. Its last residents open their arms to Estelle, giving her permission to capture their home as it is, as they have always known it, and as they hope to remember it.
The game also has quite a lot to say about memory and remembrance. There are three gods of Tieng Valley: Din, Void, and Tide. They are the gods of memory, forgetting, and sleep, respectively. People pray to these gods in hopes of remembering things they’ve lost, forgetting painful memories, and experiencing restful sleep or good dreams. Estelle is documenting the world around her in hopes that it will be remembered and preserved for future seasons, and she discovers other people’s memories during her journey in the form of magical flowers that capture memories and replay them over and over again. The game hints at diseases that can cause people to lose their memories or become trapped in time. This theme about what kind of things we’re desperate to hold on to, and what we want to forget, is woven throughout the experience of Season, making the game feel almost nostalgic for something I’d never known, and that feeling is largely why I went back to it so soon after finishing it.
The scrapbooking aspect of Season feels deliberate as well, giving you reason to pause and spend time with each place you visit as well as Estelle’s thoughts. I had so much fun placing the photos and drawings and stickers, and it was even more fun on my second playthrough to see what I could do differently on each page. Scrapbooking made me slow down and reflect on everything I had just taken in, giving me a real sense of place and appreciation for Tieng Valley as a whole. I loved flipping back through my scrapbook at the end of the game, seeing all of the beautiful, colorful pieces I had created and reflecting on the journey I had taken, realizing that my own mind was now full of memories of this incredible game.
I highly recommend Season if you like narrative exploration and you’re looking for a rich world in which to lose yourself for a while. It kept me captivated enough to play it twice, back to back, and I still can’t stop thinking about it.
It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these! Today, I want to share a bit about one of my favorite bands: progressive metal/rock group VOLA.
I’m honestly not sure where I first discovered VOLA. I do know that the first album I heard was Applause of a Distant Crowd, which means I must have discovered them in or after 2018, so I would wager I’ve been listening to them for about five years.
VOLA is a four-piece originally from Denmark, with their latest drummer, Adam Janzi, hailing from Sweden. The other members are vocalist/guitarist Asger Mygind, keyboardist Martin Werner, and bassist Nicolai Mogensen. They’ve gone through a few lineup changes over the years, but their sound has remained mostly consistent, although it’s become gradually more melodic and experimental as they’ve progressed.
They’re notable for the fact that they feature a keyboardist in Martin, which is something that’s fairly uncommon in metal, at least enough to comment on. Bands like Dream Theater, Dimmu Borgir, and Nightwish come to mind, but it’s personally always nice when I discover a metal band with a keyboardist, like an extra little treat hidden in the keys and synth lines.
Just this past year, in November of 2022, VOLA came to the US for the first time and I was lucky enough to see them live. It was an intimate venue, and my boyfriend and I snagged two spots right in front of the stage. We got to headbang with Asger and everything. It was a fantastic, unforgettable experience.
Favorite Song
As VOLA are one of my favorite bands, it’s unsurprisingly difficult for me to choose a favorite song from them. There are so many that I love off of their previous albums, but their latest album, Witness, stuck out to me so much that I have to choose a song from it, and that song is “24 Light-Years.”
It’s one of the more mellow songs on the album, but with Asger’s ethereal vocals and the bright musical tones, it’s just too gorgeous not to choose. There are some wonderful synths running through the back of it and some downright beautiful guitar riffs. But one of my favorite things about the song is that Martin, the aforementioned keyboardist, released a classical piano composition of it to go alongside the full band release, and it emphasizes just how beautiful the musicality of the track is.
I’ve watched this video way more times than I care to admit at this point.
Favorite Album
I spoiled this in the previous section, but my favorite VOLA album is their latest release, Witness. Don’t get me wrong, I love Inmazes and Applause of a Distant Crowd as well as their EPs, but Witness just really does it for me because it’s really where they elevated their sound, and with an album as exciting as it, I can’t wait to hear what they’ll do in the future.
Witness not only focuses on the things that already made the band great on previous albums — Asger’s soaring vocals, djenty riffs contrasted with bright synths, and Adam Janzi’s ever-interesting drumming — but it also experiments with those things to truly incredible results. The most evident example of this is the song “These Black Claws,” which features a hip-hop backbeat and rapper Shahmen, whose words combine with the band’s heavy riffs to beautifully intense effect.
I lost my mind the first time I heard this.
Getting to meet Martin at their show in Columbus, OH, was a highlight of my life, especially after listening to his piano rendition of “24 Light-Years” so much that I would’ve worn it out if it wasn’t in digital form. They’re one of the first bands that I turn to when I’m having a bad day, knowing that the smooth beauty of their music will lift me up without fail. This is my tribute to VOLA, and I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
It’s been a while since I’ve paid attention to this website or this blog, and this year I want to change that. Regardless of the audience, I want to start blogging again, for me. Previous updates have been sporadic, only once or twice a year or so, and many of the older posts have been reverted to draft form because I simply don’t care for them anymore. It’s hard to believe I’ve had this site for over a decade, but here we are! This post will just be a simple overview of things I want to do with this blog moving forward, along with the general goals I’ve set for myself this year.
Book Reviews and Music Spotlights
I want both of these features to remain. One of my goals this year is to read 24 books. That may not seem like much, but I’m a lapsed reader. I used to read voraciously, but for the past several years I’ve hardly picked up a book at all, instead turning to narrative video games for stories or reading articles for non-fiction and to keep up to date with things going on in the world.
This year, I want to take steps to change that, but as is usually best with these things, I’m taking small steps to begin with. I’m allowing graphic novels as well as novels, and I’m starting with shorter books, around 200 pages or less. So far, I’ve stayed on top of my goal as I’ve finished three books in January, and you can see them at my Storygraph, which I’m using to track my progress through the year.
All that said, I want to keep writing my small book reviews here, in part because it’s a fun writing exercise and also because it’s just a nice way to talk about my experiences with reading this year. My first review is up, of Tokyo Ueno Station by Miri Yū. I won’t review every book I read this year, but I do want to try to review as many as I can, particularly if it stands out to me in some way.
Another type of post I’d like to continue with here are the music spotlights, of which I only have one posted thus far. This was an older post, but I really enjoyed spending time with one of my favorite bands through writing it, and I hope to do more of those in the future, so look for that coming up soon!
Other Personal Goals
Honestly, there isn’t much else that I’d like to do on this blog, aside from just writing more personal posts and maybe covering my favorite pieces of media that I enjoy throughout the year. I do have a small list of personal things I’d like to accomplish this year, and I’ll share that below:
Learn to crochet amigurumi
Learn to embroider
Write a short story
Bake once a month
Get into an exercise routine (preferably biking)
Perhaps at the end of the year, I can revisit those goals and see how I’ve done with them. For now, I’ll end this before it gets too long. Here’s to 2023 and hoping, like the rabbit, it will be high-spirited.
Just for fun, here’s a photo of me now, and at the end of the year I’ll add another to show how/if I’ve changed:
This is very much one of those books that I feel a person should experience for themselves, so it’s difficult to write a coherent review for it. It’s a book that should be felt firsthand.
Tokyo Ueno Station follows the story of Kazu, a Japanese migrant from Fukushima who spends most of his life working away from home in Tokyo. He typically works as a physical laborer, laying ground for new projects like the Olympics sports fields, and sending the money he earns back home to his family, who he rarely sees in person. The book is divided into two types of narrative: one, Kazu’s present observations as he drifts through Tokyo’s Ueno Station and Park, and two, ruminations on his past and his life before he ended up where he is now.
And where is Kazu now? Well, according to the back of the book, he’s a ghost, but before he became a ghost, or perhaps still, he was homeless. There is a distinct parallel between being homeless and being a ghost that the book does a good job of illustrating through the fact that you’re never quite sure which Kazu really is while he reflects on the people and things he witnesses throughout Ueno. The book also has a lot to say about society and homelessness in Japan, as it juxtaposes Kazu’s life of hardship with the seemingly easy life of the Japanese imperial family, who Kazu encounters on multiple occasions.
Tokyo Ueno Station is not an easy read. It’s short, but it’s contemplative and disjointed and tragic. As Kazu explains the circumstances that led him to homelessness, he also recounts a conversation between women in an art museum viewing paintings of roses, or he reiterates the Japanese history lessons that his friend Shige gave him about the shrines and statues throughout Ueno Park. Sadness is interspersed with mundanity. Kazu’s life history is interspersed with the history of Japan. And through it all, we learn not just about Japanese society and history, but about what it is to be a human ghost in Tokyo.
Bottom line: Evocative and wholly touching, this is one of those books that’s nearly impossible to explain and therefore which I can only say to read, read, read and experience for yourself.
In the Woods is not a murder mystery. It was marketed as one, and it’s hailed as a preeminent example of crime fiction. But if you read this book expecting to solve both of its core mysteries or feel good about yourself for picking out all the baddies within the first few chapters, then you’re going to be disappointed.
What Tana French has done here is create a psychological character study disguised as a crime novel, and it’s one of the most brilliant books I’ve ever read. I’m already reading her latest, The Witch Elm, and I’ve picked up two more of her books.
In the Woods is the first of the Dublin Murder Squad series, each of which has a different protagonist. In this book, we’re thrown into the mind of Detective Rob Ryan, who’s the definition of an unreliable narrator. He even admits as much upfront. He’s a skilled liar, and his life has been irrevocably affected by an incident he experienced as a child. In the ’80s, he went into the woods in his hometown of Knocknaree, Ireland, with his two best friends. Several hours later, he walked back out with his shoes soaked in blood and his friends missing. In an attempt to perhaps protect him from breaking down completely, his brain has eradicated all memory of what happened in the woods, but when a new case forces him to revisit Knocknaree, things begin to crack open in much the way you would expect.
Except that nothing is really what you would expect. I can’t say too much without going into spoiler territory, but Rob is not a particularly likable protagonist. He lets his preconceived notions take over, and they’re often unjustified and unfair. He slips up on the job and devalues his relationships with people. His partner, Cassie Maddox, begins to wonder what’s going on in his head. I spent most of the book wanting to yell at him for being an idiot, but in the end, I realized that Tana French had spent over 400 pages expertly making me understand him, and that’s so much more complicated and ultimately satisfying than simply disliking him.
I love music, and I have this intrinsic need to share the music I love, so I thought I’d do a series of posts to highlight some bands and musicians who may be lesser known but feature prominently in my music collection. The hope is that whoever comes across this blog might be introduced to a new band or musician they like, and I can spread the love far and wide. Or at least as far and wide as this little blog goes, which is not much due to lack of self-promotion and an affinity for solitude, but I digress.
First up are the gods of Nordic rock, Poets of the Fall.
I discovered Poets of the Fall back in 2010 when the video game Alan Wake was released. The band members are good friends with the game’s creator, Sam Lake, who tapped them to record a couple of songs for it under the pseudonym Old Gods of Asgard.
Alan’s encounter with members of the in-game band Old Gods of Asgard
Old Gods of Asgard also feature as memorable side characters in the game. They’re an aging metal band whose music plays a pivotal part in helping the protagonist and player move forward, and there’s one scene in particular that easily places in my top ten favorite gaming moments. If you want to watch the scene, this is a really good YouTube video of it, but I highly recommend playing the game if you haven’t and experiencing it for yourself. One of the best things about the scene is that it’s surprising, organic, and enjoyable in the moment. It’s fun to watch someone else play it, but it’s even more fun to experience it for yourself.
On October 27-31, The Long Dark held an in-game Halloween event titled 4 Days of Night. I was excited to see my favorite game do an event for my favorite holiday, so I made time on each of the four days to settle in with a cup of hot cider and bask in the spooky nighttime atmosphere of 4DoN, and I’m beyond glad I did. It exceeded my expectations. I took a ton of screenshots, which I may post at a later time, but for now, this post is about baking.
On the 31st, players were treated to pumpkin pies that had the affect of keeping us warm to help combat the intense blizzard that also descended upon that fateful day. Being a baking enthusiast, I loved the look and idea of the pies, so I decided to whip up a real one on Halloween night.
I’m shocked Circe is only 385 pages long. It feels like a vast and sprawling epic, as though it could be five or six books in one. The majority of it takes place in a single location, the island of Aiaia where Circe is exiled, yet her story spans countries, centuries, viewpoints, and emotions.
Expanding upon the Greek myth, this book casts the Titan goddess in a new light — one that is both feminist and humanist. Circe gains a deeper respect for humans than her fellow gods, who fail to see them as more than pawns. Her unique viewpoint among divinity is informed by her own treatment by her family, who revile her as much as any mortal when they’re not being actively worshiped by them.
Circe offers explanations for its protagonist’s habit of turning sailors into pigs and her desperate act of transforming the nymph Scylla into a monster. It adds depth to a common narrative surrounding powerful women — that they must be ill-tempered, ugly, and generally unlikable, luring men into their capricious traps. It allows Circe her flaws and mistakes (she’s still jealous of Scylla) but gives her agency and remorse. She gets to tell her own story rather than seeing it told by a man as a thinly-veiled allegory that furthers the stories of other men (namely Odysseus and Jason).
Circe reads much like a coming-of-age story. At its core, it’s about a woman who comes into her own, transforming from an idealistic young Titan into a self-determined sorceress who learns, to her detriment, how complex humans can be. All the while, she’s dealing with the familial difficulties that arise from being part of a pantheon of gods in a world that’s defined by things like status and beauty.
Miller’s prose is exquisite. It moved me to tears, particularly during one part which I wouldn’t dare spoil because it should be discovered the way things once were, by witnessing it in its rawest form. I can’t wait to read Song of Achilles, Miller’s other published novel about heroic yet ill-fated Achilles and his lover Patroclus.
Bottom line: Miller’s epic is a sympathetic retelling of Circe, whose sweeping insight had me reeling as I experienced her pain, love, and solitude through the author’s clear-flowing prose.
Oxenfree is as good as they say, “they” being practically everyone who’s reviewed it so far, but it frustrated the hell out of me. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. I’m here to argue that my frustration played a huge part in making my experience with the game enjoyable, an integral part of it, even.
See, I’m a perfectionist, a one-hundred percenter, if you will. I finished Dragon Age: Inquisition‘s campaign months ago, but I’m still going back to it to find those last few stray mosaic pieces and venture through the labyrinthine Deep Roads. I stopped at nothing until I found and shot down every damn dangly skull necklace in 2013’s Tomb Raider. I don’t know why I have this quirk. Perfectionists are usually equated with adjectives like “neat” or “tidy” or “anal retentive,” but in most areas of my life I can more accurately be described as “scatterbrained.” My desk is cluttered with books and probably important neglected documents that should be filed away somewhere. My bed hasn’t been made since I moved out of my parents house and forsook all expectations of my adulthood.
My frustration with Oxenfree didn’t lie in its collectibles, though, all of which I found easily, with minimal excess time spent happily scouring the island while listening to the trippy soundtrack. As I picked up Maggie Adler’s letters and tuned my radio to anomalies at rock piles, I contentedly thought to myself that this extra bit of effort was allowing Alex and Jonas to spend more time together, perhaps bonding in that way people bond when they don’t always have to talk, when simply being in each other’s presence is enough. Therein lies my frustration with Oxenfree—in Alex’s relationships, particularly with Jonas, and the way they culminate in the end. After everything I thought I had been building toward, the ending completely caught me off guard.
Alyssa M. Hatmaker 