Jacob's Font of Perspicacity

Recently, to go along with its annual awards, Steam (a platform for buying computer games) released  this list of their most played games of 2017. While perusing said list, I came to a somewhat depressing realization: all nine of the games with more than 100,000 peak simultaneous players consisted, at their core, of walking around a 3-dimensional environment and shooting people to death. To some this may fit completely with their view of video games as mindless entertainment which promotes violence. But to me it was jarring, possibly because not one of the twenty games in my Steam library adheres to this formula. In my experience video games can be a fascinating artistic medium, but it is difficult to find the gems in the teeming horde of first-person shooters. The overwhelming popularity of this specific genre has distorted the general public's perception of video games, obscuring the fact that, just like other media such as books or movies, they can be used both to offer an easy...

Anyone who analyzes enough entertainment media quickly begins to notice a few patterns. Every story has a (usually white and male) protagonist who, along with his band of supporting characters, faces some kind of conflict, defeats the villain, and lives happily ever after. This is (an oversimplified summary of) the Hero's Journey, that pervasive force which consigns so many stories to the dustbin of sameness. This common theme makes all media somewhat similar, but within specific genres there are many more of these similarities, so much so that one quickly realizes that the vast majority of stories are just a bunch of prefabricated parts assembled in a predictable order with a new coat of paint slapped on to trick people into thinking its something different. For evidence of this, I direct you to go to  TV Tropes , an incredible database of fictional tropes (common elements found in many different pieces of media). Once you're there, find the page of a movie you like and scroll...

I very recently had the good fortune to watch Star Wars: The Last Jedi , and while there were a host of things I liked about the movie, there was one which especially stood out: the identity of Rey's parents. Now, if you haven't seen the movie yet, please go do so before reading the rest of this post. It really is excellent and will be better the less you know about it going in (I purposefully did not watch any previews or trailers beforehand, and that definitely enhanced the experience). Now that you've returned (or have already seen the movie, or just don't care about spoilers) I will continue. In The Last Jedi , it is revealed that Rey's parents were... (drumroll, please)... not named characters, but a pair of inconsequential nobodies who sold her to buy alcohol. Yes, that's right, Rey is not descended from anyone important. It may strike you as odd that I would be so excited by this, so I will endeavor to explain why it's one of the better parts of...

As you probably remember (if you're in Mr. Starace's class at least), Ms. Heitz semi-recently gave us  this article  explaining what magical realism is and how it differs from fantasy. As I read it, I became more and more irritated, finally deciding that I needed to write something demonstrating how it is emblematic of a significant problem in how those who analyze literature view certain genres. Luckily, I have a blog where there is a possibility that someone might actually read my rant on the subject, so here are my thoughts on why magical realism is not a distinct literary genre, but a category of fantasy literature. Literary critics, wanting to feel more discerning than the average reader, are loath to ascribe literary merit to popular "genre fiction": fantasy, science fiction, mystery, horror, etc. They were thus presented with a conundrum when a new style of writing arose in Latin America. It was full of supernatural elements, and thus fit the standard defi...

I recently watched Thor: Ragnarok , the latest in Marvel's seemingly endless torrent of superhero comedy/action movies. While I generally enjoyed it (at least compared to other films in the same genre), I found myself rather bored during many of the scenes which were intended to be the most dramatic. The movie puts an enormous amount of effort into epic music, gratuitous explosions, and intricately animated fight sequences, but many of its action scenes just felt like something to be waited through until something more interesting happened. In fact, I think you could cut out a solid 10 minutes of absurdly acrobatic duels and massacring of minions and the film would't actually lose anything of value. Now, I should say that I am not bored by all action scenes. For example, Mad Max: Fury Road  managed managed to keep me on the edge of my seat, and that movie is probably around 50% giant explosions. So what exactly did Thor: Ragnarok lack? After a fair amount of thought, I have...