On top of everything, that hack Robert Wintermute killed Venser…
A quick note before we begin: the movie I’ve been asked to review isn’t available yet. It should be later in the day, but for now we’re going to swap the review with Tabletalk for this week. Okay? Okay.
Magic… it’s time we talked.
I’ve been playing you for years. Decades, even. And there is a lot that I like about you. Your planes are rich with game and story potential. You show interesting design choices at every turn. Memories of tournaments, drafts, and throwdowns with family are evocative of good or even excellent times, and I will never forget them.
But, to be honest, I’ve been seeing other card games.
I don’t want you to feel like you’ve done anything wrong. I don’t think it’s your fault. I am, in all honesty, just a little tired of some of the things that throw me off when it comes to you. I certainly don’t agree with all of your design choices, and I know that no cycle of cards lasts forever outside of Legacy. You may see me coming back to a local gaming store in the future. The big problem, though, is the irritation I have with variance.
I like games that are different every time you play them. They add variety and make me want to play more. The thing is, though, that a deck of Magic has a level of variance that tends to be rather high. While this can be mitigated with good deck construction choices, the bottom line is that the resources you need to play the game – your land – are dispensed to you entirely at random. You could have everything necessary in your hand to make a clutch play or escape a tight situation, but you can’t do anything because your land has not deigned to show up yet. It sucks for me when it happens, and it sucks for my opponent, too. When my opponent gets screwed on their mana, I feel bad on their behalf, since it doesn’t feel like we’re playing the game on equal terms, and that’s not fun for anybody who wants to have fun playing. I mean, if you care only about winning, then yes, you want your opponent to have every disadvantage possible, but that to me is not very sporting. Call me old-fashioned.
Some people like this. They like the extra challenge it presents, and the fact that games are not predictable. That’s fine. I can understand that. I personally feel, however, that games like Hearthstone and Netrunner are spoiling me, since my resources are not tied to random chance.
We’ll talk more about that next week. For now… I don’t hate you, Magic, but to be honest, I don’t think you’re my favorite anymore. It’s not you, it’s me.
Weeks after seeing it twice, I find myself still thinking about Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Not just because of how its events will change future Marvel movies and TV shows, but also because its writing is so rock-solid. I’ve examined it from multiple angles, like a tourist circling a free-standing work of art in a museum, and while it’s not completely flawless, it’s so good that other comic book movie franchises that will remain nameless should be ashamed of themselves.
One thing that Marvel movies do with surprising adroitness and consistency is deliver characters with depth, nuance, and multiple dimensions. No single member of the Avengers cast feels flat or one-note. The only character who comes close to falling into that trap is Thor, and yet despite his Asgardian gravitas and hyperbole, there’s quite a bit to him. He loves his brother (even if he is adopted), he still revels in fighting, and he has a great deal of compassion for someone who’s primary means of interaction is hitting stuff with a magic hammer. This is even more evident in Thor: The Dark World, where he and Loki are the real highlights of the film and demonstrate that they have both grown as characters. But that’s a horse I’ve ridden before.
Getting back to Cap, I’ve written at length about the character before, and Winter Soldier delivers on a lot of the character’s promise. He is a man out of time, and out of his element, without a concrete villain to fight and ultimately betrayed by those he trusted. While he is learning and adapting to modern life, he is also holding onto his principles and his world-view, which he may personally admit is old-fashioned and even a little hokey. Yet those things are him, part of who he is, and part of what make his character so compelling.
Even more interesting is the character of Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow. Here is someone used to keeping people at arm’s length, lest she add more red to her ledger. We’ve seen her work undercover and in conjunction with a team of super-heroes, but Winter Soldier expands greatly on the other dimensions of her character. We see her expertise in action. We come to understand just how far ahead of the curve she operates. She’s a character who thinks on her feet, takes action in spite of her fear, and gets caught off-guard when people genuinely trust her. The fact that Scarlett Johansson pulls this off through facial expressions and posture as much as she does with dialog and action is just icing on the cake.
Marvel has always had a strong emphasis on interesting characters who are just as much human as they are super-human. Their Cinematic Universe is no different. With Agents of SHIELD going strong, and Guardians of the Galaxy coming this summer, I expect this trend to continue. It’s a very, very good time to be a fan. It’s also quite satisfying to tell people, when asked about good character-building and dialog, to say “You know that movie about the guy wearing the American flag who tosses a shield around? Yeah, watch that, and you’ll see what I mean.”
For the Terribleminds Flash Fiction Challenge, “Fifty Characters“. RNG results below.
Hollywood. Tinseltown. It has a lot of names, and so do the people that live here. Actors have screen names. Musicians have stage names. And if that woman on the corner was actually named “Champagne” by her mom and dad back in Pleasant Corners, Bread Bowl USA, I will eat my own hat.
I don’t even use my own real name. I don’t think the guy riding shotgun with me does, either. What kind of name is “Nick Vegas”, anyway? Sure, it looks bully on a business card, but he’s not really in a line of work where you just hand those out. You don’t want to leave a paper trail when you traffic in narcotics.
I’m waiting in the car while Nick talks to Mel. That, at least, is a short version of the kid’s name. Kids don’t normally go in for serious pseudonyms until they get a bit older than Mel’s twelve years. And, honestly, if my parents had saddled me with “Melvin”, I’d be looking for a change, too.
“Good kid, but lazy,” Vegas says to me as he climbs back into my car. Mel heads off down the street, slingshot in his back pocket. I wonder idly if he’s going to egg someone’s house after he does Nick’s errands.
“Let’s not talk about it.”
“Hey, my cousin asked me to get the kid a job, and I needed some packages delivered. What’s the issue?”
“He’s a twelve year old kid, Nick. That’s a little young to be making deliveries for us.”
“First of all, there’s no ‘us’. We’ve been over this, I got the contacts so I run the operation. You just drive the car and keep it warm if any John Q Laws start snooping around. Secondly, how old were you when you started?”
“My mother didn’t let me get into any of this business until I was sixteen, no matter how much I asked her.”
“Oh yeah? Didn’t know you were such a mamma’s boy, Sally boy.” Nick leans towards me as I pull the car away from the curb. I know where this is going. “Are you still a mamma’s boy? Do you call her at night when you get home so she knows her baby is all safe and sound?”
“Shut up, Nick.”
He laughs. It’s the laugh of a schoolyard bully. I remind myself that I have car to drive and a job to do. Our next stop is down by the RKO studios. I grease the night watchman’s palm and we pull around to where the trailers are set up, stopping outside of a smaller one. Nick gets out, and a plain-looking gent meets him at the trailer’s door. I don’t know many actors by sight, and this isn’t one of them. He probably got cast in some bit role due to his ability rather than his looks. Good for him, I guess. I light a cigarette while they do business.
Nick’s back in the car and we’re driving up Sunset Boulevard. Our last two stops are up on Mulholland Drive. I’m pulling us through traffic when Nick starts talking again.
“We’re making good time tonight. You’ll probably be in home in time for dinner.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t want to engage him. I can feel him leering at me.
“With your momma.”
“You really ought to shut up, Nick.”
Before he can respond, I turn on the radio. If the drive is going to be long, I don’t want it filled just with his jibes and jabs.
“Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men…”
I lean back and drive. The Shadow calms me down. We listen for a bit but then Nick speaks up again.
“I’m more of a Lone Ranger kinda guy.”
“Get outta town. The Shadow is definitely better than the Lone Ranger.”
“Are you trying to tell me the Shadow wouldn’t get put down by a silver bullet or something?”
“The Lone Ranger would have to find him, first.”
“That’s why the Ranger has Tonto, dummy.”
“Has Tonto ever been in a big city? Between the food carts and the pipes backing up, it’s a bit harder to track someone’s scent, kemo sabe.”
“I’ll give you a kemo sabe if you don’t drive the car.”
“You mean like I have been this whole time?”
“Quietly, damn it.”
I smile and keep quiet. It’s good to know his skin isn’t that thick.
A while later, we’re up on Mulholland. There are some really nice houses up here. The first one we stop at is owned by a diplomat. I’ve run packages in there before, when Nick hasn’t been feeling well. The guy likes to throw big parties, with celebrities and girls and live music. He might not be American, but he’s certainly living the American Dream, as big and loud as he can, and I for one can’t fault him for it.
Our last stop is the furthest one out. The house is one of those ‘modern’ jobs, all harsh angles and round windows and weird lighting. Nick told me that the guy living here designed it himself. He also told me that the architect’s wife hates it. I catch sight of her briefly through the windows on the top floor – curvy, long hair, dressed in a bathrobe, on the phone with someone, not happy at all. The architect meets Nick at the door. He’s a sliver of a man, shorter than Nick (who’s a few inches under me), with a pretty browbeaten expression on his face. You don’t need a scriptwriter to see how these two got together, or how it’s likely to end.
Nick climbs back into the car, looking mighty pleased with himself.
“Want to grab a drink? It’s on me.”
I shrug. “Sure.”
We start driving back towards Los Angeles proper, and Nick finds, of all things, The Lone Ranger. I wait until the big chase sequence begins and the familiar horns of the William Tell Overture are heard before I pull the car over.
Nick turns to me to ask why we’re stopping and he gets a blackjack in the face for his trouble.
He’s not out. He’s dizzy and seeing stars. I reach past him, open his door, and shove him out into the dirt. I climb over the gearshift, grab my gloves from the glove compartment, and step out after him. He’s trying to get to his feet. I reach under the wheel well, finding the gun taped there, and I give Nick a crack on the head with it.
“Talk.”
He’s holding his head. “What? What the hell is-?”
“I said talk.”
I wallop him again for good measure. He cries out.
“What? What do you want? I don’t understand.”
I cock the revolver, a little snub-nosed .38, and aim it at him. “Say ‘what’ again.”
“Okay! Okay. You got me. My name isn’t Nick Vegas. It’s Greg.”
“How much longer were you planning on ratting us out, Greg?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. One of my brothers is on the Vice Squad. They didn’t want to put a cop in the car. They knew you’d smell it.”
“Why is that, Greg? Do you know who I am?”
He shook his head. “All I know is your name is Tony and you work for one of the families. That’s it.”
“If you’re not a cop, how in the hell did your brother talk you into doing this?”
“We want to make the world better. Cleaner. More educated.” He fiddles with the ring on his finger, and shows it to me. “I’m a Freemason.”
I examine the ring with a scowl. “And your ‘brother’ is a Mason too?”
He nods. “Yeah. Called it a ‘moral obligation’.”
“Well, let me tell you something, Greg. Your ‘moral obligation’ is gonna get you killed. Where I come from, we don’t tolerate rats. Tell me how much your cop buddies know and I may let you walk home.”
“I told you. They know your name and who you work for.”
“Do they know what I look like?”
“They never asked for a description.”
“Dumb cops, then. The thing about Hollywood, Greg, is nobody uses their real name. My name isn’t Tony. It’s Nick.”
He blinked at me. “What…?”
I shot him. He went down, grabbing his leg. I walked closer as he squealed, drawing the hammer back again.
“Bye, Greg.”
“Wait! Wait! You said you’d let me walk!”
“I said I’d think about it. And I did. Besides, you think you’re walking far on that leg now? Ciao.”
I fire two rounds into his chest. I’m turning away, and I hear him gasping for air. I make a face, turn, and shoot him once in the head for good measure. I then toss the gun into the brush and kick the body into the ditch.
It’s a long drive back to the city, but I’ll be home in time for dinner.
It’s lasagna night, and I never miss my momma’s lasagna.
18 – The shiftless rascal.
42 – The puerile, aloof smuggler who belongs to a secret organization.
40 – The plain actor.
34 – The tactless ambassador with big dreams.
22 – The weak, tolerant architect.
The Friday 500 returns next week, when I’m not quite so wiped out. In the meantime, let’s talk again about character death in fiction!
When I watch a good television program or film, one with a narrative that builds its characters and takes the plot in ways one might not expect, I feel the dichotomy in me between watcher and writer. In the moment the story is happening, the emotional connections I feel with the characters, if they are written and acted well enough, feel vital and affecting. Afterward, in retrospect, I can observe the direction and outcome of those moments, and fully understand the foundation behind the decisions the writers made as well as postulate where they might be headed.
It’s important to remember that any character in a story can die. It’s all in the manner of how, when, and why. I think ‘why’ might be the most important piece of the puzzle, and I don’t mean the motivations of their in-story killer. The writer, callous and unfeeling as they might seem, should have good reason for offing one of their creations, especially if that creation is well-liked. Knowing this, I think, actually helps in reading stories as well as watching them. Chuck Wendig could easily kill Miriam Black. Jim Butcher’s under no obligation to keep Harry Dresden alive. And we all know how George R.R. Martin feels about the immunity of popular characters to the flashing scythe that is his pen. Character death is one of those writerly decisions that can hang on the fringes of the story, either making the whole thing more tense or dragging the whole thing down.
I have been well and truly hooked by Android: Netrunner for a variety of reasons. The game is steeped in atmosphere and flavor, from the names of each player’s decks and hands to some truly stunning artwork. The second-hand market for individual cards is practically non-existent, making it a slightly more economical choice, even if the up-front investment can seem a touch daunting. And much like Hearthstone, it’s possible to build a deck just using the Core Set of the game that has a fighting chance, or will at least yield a good time.
The asymmetrical nature of the gameplay, however, can be off-putting for new players. I thought I would take a bit of time before diving into the nuances of the game’s different Corp and Runner factions to talk about how the two sides play, and give some tips to newer players, or players who have tried to play Netrunner before and for one reason or another ran into obstacles not generated by the board state.
Both the Corp and the Runner are trying to score Agenda Points. Only the Corp player has Agenda cards in their deck. The Runner must steal Agenda cards from the Corp before they can be installed and advanced. The Corp advances Agendas by installing them in remote servers, areas of the playing area to the side of their identity card (which represents their hand, or HQ), then spends credits one at a time to match the Agenda card’s advancement requirement. The Runner can run on any server, be it one of the remotes created by the Corp, the Corp’s HQ, their R&D (or deck), or Archives (discard pile). The Corp can protect any of their servers with ICE, specialized software cards that are installed perpendicular and face down in front of the servers they protect. The Runner has means to break or circumvent this ICE, but it buys the Corp precious time to score their Agendas.
That’s the basic rundown; let’s get into some specifics.
If you are the Corp, you control all of the information.
The Runner has to keep their cards face-up on the table. From their Hardware to their Resources, you will always have a good idea of what could be coming at you. When you install a piece of ICE, it’s face-down, as are your Agendas, Assets, and Upgrades. The Runner has no idea how, when, or even if you’ll be paying the cost to rez (turn face-up) those cards. Knowing what you know, you can either push to beat the Runner before they get up to speed, or sit back and play a shell game, luring the Runner into traps or watching them bounce off of your ICE. Some of that comes from the choice you make in faction, but the confidence to follow through on your strategy comes from the fact that you know a lot more than the Runner does, at least in terms of board state information. Use that.
If you are the Runner, you should be running.
Running is the crux of the game and it should be done as much as is reasonable – and maybe some times when it isn’t. It’s how the Runner learns information, from the ICE the Corp has installed to the assets they’re trying to protect. It keeps the Corp player engaged and can lead to them interacting more, be it choosing different ICE or exploiting the Runner’s action in order to tag them or otherwise make the Runner pay. But it’s also the only way the Runner can possibly win the game. The more the Runner runs, the better their chances of stealing an Agenda, and every run also has the potential to throw the Corp off-balance and derail their well-laid plans. Sure, you might end up getting tagged or taking some damage, but Netrunner is all about risk management.
This is true on both sides. The Corp asks, “is it safe to install this Agenda? Can I convince the Runner that it’s a trap? Should I stockpile credits instead?” The Runner asks, “can the Corp flatline me if I make another run and take more damage? Will I have enough time before he scores that Agenda? Is than an Agenda in the first place?”
The game is rife with player choices, informed decision-making, potential for storytelling, and great moments of interplay. If you tried it before but found the asymmetry daunting or a particular player uncooperative, I hope after reading these tips you’d consider trying again. I’m going to be talking about the factions in the weeks to come; you might find something you like in one of them that’ll convince you to give Netrunner a shot. The card catalog is growing, and player bases are becoming more established; now is a great time to get started.
