Rant at people ranting at ME3 ending

Ok, if it wasn't obvious to those reading my G+ post, I'm a little peeved about this whole "Let's bitch at Bioware for the ending they put into the game that I love!" rant that seemingly everyone with the Internet as decided to get behind.  it's absolutely ridiculous on many, many levels.

I'm not going to cross post it, so if you want to read my original rant, go here.

Let me put a warning here: I'm going to be spoilerific.  The reason why I'm posting this on my blog is so that I CAN be spoilerific.  For the most part, I don't think people are going to come read this unless they expect this, so if somehow, you've gotten this far and don't want to read on about the endings of Mass Effect 3, STOP READING NOW.  Thank you.

Now, I've done a little more research, having a few more in-depth conversations with people, read a few blogs, looked up some rants on Youtube, checked out a few more of the endings myself, etc.   I get it a bit more.  I can sort of see why a lot of people are angry.

It's still REALLY DUMB.  But I get it.  If I made a bunch of stupid assumptions about what was going on without examining anything for myself, or decided to make enormous jumps in my conclusions as to what things mean, sure, I'd be pissed too.  I'd be stupid, but I'd be pissed (but then, those two tend to go hand in hand pretty often).

There are a few, specific issues that have been brought up multiple times in multiple ways that I simply feel are inaccurate at best, and presumptive at worse.  I'm going to start with the simpler ones.

There's been a lot of complaints that Shepherd's team somehow "miraculously" made it back to Normandy.  Despite a clearing of the hot-zone you performed not too long ago, the fact that there are multiple Makos and other vehicles in the area, and the fact that the team all left you in the damn ship when it last exploded, seemingly everyone is SHOCKED that somehow, for some reason, your surviving team left for and made it to the Normandy while you died.  Not sure how this is surprising, nor why people had to make up stories about teleporters.  

Many people complained about the emotional connection, that they wouldn't have left it in that situation.  Well, I'm sorry, but it came down to two things.  Your team either saw you dead, or they saw you limp your way into the lift.  The lift that took you to the Citadel, where you most likely weren't going to be returning to Earth unless the Citadel crashed.  You limped through that damn place for the better part of an hour. It's not suprising that, when someone gave the order to retreat, your damn team beat feet.

The next issue I had is with people wanting to tell the little robot-child-thing off, shoot it or otherwise do something else than submit to the choices in that situation.  My question is: what the fuck do you want Shepherd to do??  Bleed on it?  It's a hologram!  It's a program!  It's NOT THERE!!  You want to kill it?  Well, low and behold, that's one of the GORRAM CHOICES!!  Destroying the Repears destroys it too (and if you think about it, you're actually doing it the other way around: destory IT is what destroys the Reapers)!  This isn't hard, people.

Seriously, what the hell else would Shepherd do in that situation?? Bleed out? The longer you wait, the more people die.  Decisions are made.  And when you're stuck in a room, dying, with a few decisions in front of you, not making a decision, or telling the child to fuck off without doing anything, is dying, and condemning everyone else to dying.  Seriously, what else do you want?  Getting three options (assuming you came fully prepared) was a bit shocking, in my opinion.

Ok, now to get all pseudo-gaming-science all up in this bitch.

First of all: This whole "People are stranded here" thing.

They have said MULTIPLE TIMES throughout the games--twice in ME3 alone!!--that FTL travel between systems is entirely possible.  it just takes years, instead of seconds. The relays were a convenience more than anything else...  In fact, some times when you escape a system from the Reapers, Evi says, "Faster than light jump successful."  

So, they're not fucking stranded. If the ships they are using can use the stupid relays, they can use FTL.  Granted, it's just gonna take the better part of a decade (for some, like the Quarians and the Geth, it's could take almost half a century, but they're the best equipped to handle it anyway).   Seriously, if you think they're stranded their, either (a) you haven't been paying attention the entire game, or (b) you're stupid, and you're not thinking about it.

Ok, second: Joker running away.

First of all, if I saw a giant wave of destructive energy shooting out at me, and Shepherd was confirmed dead... HELL YEAH I'D RUN!!  His loyalty is to the friggin' ship. That was made obvious at the beginning. 
My only problem is that he was smiling when he got off the crashed ship. He should have been pissed, and definitely shouldn't be the first one off the ship. 

Setting that aside...

The reviews and rants I have read lead me to believe that everyone assumes Joker went to a Mass Effect relay and jumped.  Assuming he did so, yeah, this entire ending would be ridiculous.  With this assumption, you also had to be assuming that Joker pretty much had to start running almost as soon as Shepherd got hit with the laser-blast-thing.  

Ok, let's just assume this is wrong because it's stupid.  Why would anyone write an ending where that kind of simple physics issue is overlooked?  Heck, they even mentioned something in game about on-board sound-synthesizers that make it sound like an explosion happens in space when there isn't one (although, scientifically, that's still in question).  If you take away that assumption, and just assume that Joker hit the ship's FTL when crazy-ray-of-WTF-ness started happening, it doesn't seem that illogical anymore, right?  Why did anyone even jump to this conclusion?

To make it worse, the ending pretty much takes us by the hand, doing its best to try to show us that this didn't happen in a Mass Relay jump.

Three considerations: One, he's making adjustments and piloting. This means he is NOT traveling via the Relays, as that is near-instantaneous, and he's said before that he makes all adjustments for jumps before he touches the relay.  Two: the beam *caught him*. No way it could do that in near-instantaneous travel.  Three: The beam that caught him was a wave, not the destructive-looking-lazer-thing shot out by the relays, but the wave that came of the Crucible.  That means he's not on the relay's path.

The only logical thing was that, as crazy shit started to go down, he hit FTL tried to escape with the fleet, and got caught in the blast from the Crucible.  Regardless of which ending you choose, the subsequent change to Edi would mess with the ship, pull it out of FTL, and cause the ship to crash. 

Ok, that is done.

So this pretty much reduces the complaints the fact that they haven't wrapped up everyone elses' stories (which I hope they do in comics and books, and not in this game, because I loved the other media), the lack of more variation in the endings (ok, seriously, I don't know what you were expecting here, high quality CG is expensive especially in design, and what they pulled off was great-looking, and IMO it all had to end somewhat the same way anyway), and the fact that the endings were color-coded.
I do have to admit, I am kind of irritated by the color-coded-morality endings (although I don't think they correspond entirely).  Still, I understand why they did it: Because they took us by the fucking hand while trying to still do a decent, somewhat artistic ending, and we still didn't get it.  

So shut up.  However much I don't like including myself in this, it's our fault this crap is happening, and our bitching and whining just means we're going to have more Navis in our future.

Hope

Man, I fucking hate that word.

Hope has this connotation, this idea in mainstream that it's actually a good thing.  Where this came from, I have no idea, but it's used constantly to invoke some sort of positive response in people.  In this time when our language is being redefined on a daily basis, when people are getting to the reality of what it means to "have faith" or what have you, why is "hope" taboo?

Dictionaries break down the word to even make sure that there's this idea persists.  For instance, the definition: a "person or thing in which expectations are centered" seems like a valid, non-connotation-based definition until the example sentence afterwards: The medicine was her last hope.  Seriously, how did this become the example?  The last of the sick dying of the black plague was man's only hope for survival.  There.  An example that is much more "gray" than disturbingly positive.


You know what?  I'm gonna redefine the word here.  Screw the 40 different definitions for the word, I'm going to give one (ok, two, because you gotta verb it as well) that fits them all.


hope [hohp] 1. Noun. A desire that has no basis in reality to come true, but we wish for it to be so regardless.  2. Verb. The act of having hope.


Seriously, that's it.  Let me break it down for you.  Hoping is simply wanting something, but not having any idea whether or not you're really going to get it.  Sure, you can work at it, do what you can to make it happen, but if any action you take would assuredly make it happen, then it's no long hope.  It's simply an action (or for you physicists out there who probably aren't reading this, a reaction).


So in truth, it's just a baseless desire.  Now THERE'S a word that has changed meaning in the last few decades. Used to be you could wake up in the morning and desire toast for breakfast.  Now if desire is one of the first words out of your mouth in the morning, someone is bound to have a snarky giggle before you even finish the sentence.


What's to stop hope from having the same connotation?  After all, most likely as your reading this, that guy nearby is hoping to have sex with you anyway.  He's got no basis for this; he doesn't know who you are, what sexuality you may be, and probably doesn't even know how to start up a conversation.  Hell, he's probably trying to get a look at what you're reading in hopes he can use it as an icebreaker.  Won't he feel awkward when he sees the title and starts yammering about starving kids in Africa, or how his parents died, or 9/11.  


We've taken the time to redefine Belief and Faith as modern-day consumers.  Since Hope is really their relative, we really should not still be blindly considering it to be a positive thing.  Hope is the waiting room attendee's hope that something will cure someone's cancer before they die as much as it it is the psychotic's hope that the next kill can stop the voices in his head.  Neither has much basis in reality, neither knows for certain whether or not the actions taken can truly make a difference, but they both hope it's true.


Seriously, the only line between Hope and its ugly cousins is sacrifice.  Hope can still maintain some sort of innocence only in the fact that it can be completely internal; one doesn't have to act on one's hopes, and in fact acting on it often defines it as something else, although it still remains a hope.  The willingness to sacrifice someone else or someone else's hope turns it into a belief, whereas the willingness to sacrifice yourself or something you believe turns it into faith.  One can fervently hope that the heathens will come to realize their ways are destroying the core of humanity; the believers gather followers and launch wars against their enemies with hopes of converting them through martial prowess; the faithful strap bombs to their chests in hopes that their sacrifice will teach others the evils of their ways.


Seriously, fuck that word.  Every time I see it now, it just makes me angry.  It's constantly used as a trap to elicit feelings of guilt for things that, in truth, we hold no real responsibility.  Fuck sending money in some sort of hope that it'll do some good.  If you really feel that guilty about starving kids in Africa, pack up your own bag of money and catch a plane.  See how much good that bag of money will do out there.  Or get a job working for the cause, and make sure the donations are going somewhere good.  Then tell those you trust that you know this is going to make a difference, not simply hoping it is.  Take away the hope and just it into a want.  Make it something you can actually do something about, instead of hoping that your random donation is going to a good cause.


I hope you didn't read this hoping for some sort of positive twist at the end; but then, neither of us have any basis in reality for that, so screw it.

There was a door inside my head.

I've gone on trips inside my own mind on many occasions.  Some are more successful than others.  Sometimes it feels like a simple exercise in imagination, but other times I can put myself into a state I cant only describe as a waking dream.  I see people I don't recognize, places I've never seen, sometimes even creatures that are beyond even what I would believe I could imagine.  I consider it a trip to my subconscious, a way for me to explore my dreams from the outside in a way.  I don't have control; these aren't the "lucid dreams," I've had before.  These are more of a viewing, a playback of something.  At least, that's how it feels.

This was unlike either of those.

My eyes were closed, but I was still awake.  I was in a meditative state of sorts, a technique for concentration that I've gotten better at assuming over the last few years.  I'll be honest: I first learned it merely as a means to help me get rid of hiccups.  Now it's useful in all sorts of situations, from work to normally uncontrollable anxieties.  It also helps me get into a mindset that I can normally go on these little trips.

I blacked my mind.  It's one of three ways I normally do this: blacking it out, filling it with light, or (if I've got a bit more time) picturing my thoughts being thrown into a fire.  For stronger meditative states, the ones that tend to affect my physical body as well as my head, I use numbers and imagine them being created in fire and steel.  This particular time, as I only thought to do so quickly, was a blacking.

When I first saw the door in my head, I was very confused.  Blacking doesn't normally leave anything, especially not something quite as specific as this.  Sometimes there are distractions and sounds that get through, but a large, wooden, double-door and frame, floating in the darkness?  This was strange.

I pictured myself walking to the door.  I'm still not sure how this worked, to be honest.  I was aware in my mind that I was still standing at the door, but somehow I imagined what would happen should I choose to open it.  This second me, the fiction inside of fiction, came to the and cracked it.  All this me could see on the other side an orange dancing light like a fire, and eyes that stared back at me, through me.  I gasped within my head, and the image was lost.  I found myself once again outside the door.

I was unsure what to do.  The door hid something.  It felt like a necessity; I felt that behind that door, there was something important, a part of me that I didn't understand or accept or something.  I went through my head, recognizing some of the strange and dangerous thoughts I've had in the past, but I did not move from in front of the door.  Did I construct it?  Did my subconscious construct it for me?  I've done and planned terrible things in my past.  What is behind that door that frightens me so?

Emotion started to make my concentration waver.  I knew I didn't have much time, and it felt dangerous to throw open the doors when I could not spend the time to deal with what I might discovered.  I turned, or, perhaps, it moved to the side.  I cannot say for certain.  All I know is I made movement to distance myself from it for now.

I opened my eyes.  A face appeared surrounding my vision, as suddenly as the door appeared behind my eyelids.  It was white and hollow, almost more of a skull than a face but it stretched and moved like skin.  It wailed, silently, before fading into my peripheral vision.  I closed my eyes, and I could see it again.  I shuddered, wondering if this is a sign of a good decision, or a bad one.

I don't suppose I will know, until the time I open the door, and see which truth lies behind.

Projects in the Works

So, just as an FYI: Yes, I am working on things.  Big things.  Things made of awesome and win.  I think they are, anyway.  I'm not dead, I'm not not-writing, etc., etc.  I'm currently working on a long-ass post about a sort of origin-story on the Precipitous Bar and the Edge.  Two different stories, one of which I've already started before.  Not sure how I feel on it, though; I may hold off on that until I'm more comfortable on where it's going.

I'm also starting a new novel project among many other shorter ones.  It's a bit out-of-the-ordinary for me, in that it requires some research on my part thanks to the fact that it mostly takes place in the here-and-now and deals with historical fiction.  As I'm not a huge history buff, nor really that up on geography/current events as I should be, this can take some work.  I'm looking forward to some of it, but more than anything I'm hoping I don't get burned out.  Still, as long as I can get some framework down, I think this would be a good project to come back to periodically even if I lose steam part way through.

So fear not, all 2-3 readers of mine!  I'm still here, and I hope I will have more coming in the near future.  And yes, I'm pretty sure all of the stories to come will be supernatural in some shape or form; despite trying new genres, I don't think I can ever really get the supernatural completely out of my head insofar as the stories I like to tell.

I have, however, decided to stretch my writing muscles a little bit more.  I've been doing a few game reviews and other random, often far-too-long posts on G+ recently, mostly involving dreams or funny anecdotes from life (you can see that here if you're so interested, just ask me to add you to my Video Games and/or Dreams circles).  I'm hoping to get a few more of these kind of things going as well.  I have a couple of options, I hope, to see what I can pull off, but we shall see.  Hopefully, there will be more to come should that happen.

So yeah!  Hopefully, within the next couple of days, I'll have the opening for the Foxfire Protocols (the novel project) up here to pique interest and get some feedback on the idea.  I will probably post the first few chapters, although I may not submit the whole story to the blog.  We shall see.  Anyway, thanks for reading!  The encouragement has been wonderful.

The Truth Behind the Whiskers

(Edit: This somehow got put in Draft instead of Posting.  Date should be 8/16/2011.  Going to post now, as it's interesting to read at this point as I read back).


It's a personal revelation post!  Feel free to ignore if you don't like reading introspective bull shit.

For those of you that don't know (which is probably not many people), I decided to remove the entirety of my facial hair this weekend.  To some, I'm sure this is not a big thing, but considering it's been around a decade or so since I've completely removed the chin-fuzz, it was a big deal to most.  Heck, it was a big deal to me, but I've had a hard time trying to figure out why.

So I take a look in the mirror a bit ago.  This, in itself, is a bit strange: normally, when in front of a mirror, I'm either (a) blind, as I don't have glasses on, (b) washing my hands so I don't pay attention, or (c) shaving/trimming hair, so I'm only paying attention to details.  Me standing in front of a mirror simply to look at myself is different.  My reaction seems even more strange, though, as I realize that, for a moment, I actually recognize myself, a feeling I haven't had in a while.

For a moment, I'm terribly confused.  I've had my face one way for years now, THAT should be the face I recognize.  Why do I feel like this is face that I own, not the one I've worn for longer than I really remember (the years have kinda blurred, don't judge me)?  I've really never felt like I was staring at a stranger int he mirror before, but there is definitely a sense of "self" I feel now.  Before, I was staring a picture, a rendering, but now... Now that's me looking back at me.