Monthly Archives: December 2011

Akira The Don – Saturnalia Superman: Akira The Don Salutes the Majesty of Christmas

Hey, Adam Narkiewicz came out with another LP today (okay, yesterday), less than three months after his last one! And he’s dropped it right in the middle of Saturnalia itself, how thematically appropriate! I don’t have to go through the walkthrough this time: if you love Akira’s stuff, and you have to be a special kind of person to do this, you will have a big silly grin on your face for much of Saturnalia Superman. It’s as simply as that: fans can’t not cackle at the Nutcracker Suite sample on “Jimmy Savile Swag”, they can’t not smile at the album’s opener “A Very Merry Ho Ho Ho” when he wishes his  mother and father “and their new respective partners” a very merry Christmas. He’s infectious and ineffably positive, and the cult of personality is in full effect – even when Saturnalia Superman takes some surprisingly thoughtful and unconventional twists towards the end.

Musically, Akira’s in control on this one: he covers a good 90% of the verses this time around, flipping between the feel-good hollering of “A Very Merry Ho Ho Ho” and his trademark political flows on “Ha Satan” with ease (on what might be his most politically-charged track since “Thanks for All the AIDS“). “Jimmy Savile Swag” (Westerners, go wiki who that is) rides that hard-leaning two-step beat everyone loves these days, and Akira’s infatuation with autotune continues make an appearance. Its presence is most obviously  felt on the eyebrow-raising Envy feature “Sexmas”, which is entertaining and meandering and ends with Envy reminding us she’s “going to heat it up like a Mincemeat pie” amongst other bizarre Christmas-related sex-threats (“wrap you up with Fairy Lights, it’s gonna be good”). As on ATD 26, while autotune rears its blocky head every couple of tracks, it’s very clearly a stylistic decision: Akira’s (and Envy’s) voice flutters, it bounces around, and unlike so much autotuning it’s no attempt to fake anyone’s way into opera-level virtuosity. It’s a level of honesty and earnestness that Akira brings to all his work these days, and as on his other albums it goes hard at work, grounding Saturnalia Superman and providing a great deal of his appeal.

Clanging bells and other Christmas jolliness pervade this album (“A Christmas Movie”), but it isn’t without its surprises: most of Akira’s version of “Bleak Midwinter” is a surprisingly heartfelt vocal duet by Akira’s Cornish Welsh in-laws, proceeding a cappella before the piano, flute and strings kick in and set off what eventually builds into the album’s most beautiful track. “Bleak Midwinter” falls mid-album, and precedes another nine-and-a-half minute surprise: “17 Year Old Blonde Girl And A Bottle of Acid”, featuring a man named Issue, who really cannot sing (thankfully, he seems to know this). Like its title might suggest, it’s a trip: what begins as an odd bit of hood-meandering by Issue quickly breaks down into a heartbreaking ode to a forgotten female trip-mate, delivered by Akira himself. The album’s greatest and most sobering moment, it’s a strange and thought-provoking piece, sprawling its narrative across several harrowing minutes and telling a story that isn’t always easy to hear. When Akira tells us that he’s opening Christmas presents with his mum and little brother and the “wrapping paper seem[s] to crawl up [his] arm like tentacles” the psychedelic imagery combines with our notions of Christmas’s assumed innocence to shock and disorient the listener. It’s extremely effective stuff, and lends heavy dosage of reality to the typical Christmas Album format.  In a sense, all of Saturnalia Superman follows this model: simultaneously celebrating the holiday season (and life!) while offering thoughtful reminders of its reality – murder, drugs, rampant commercialism and Akira’s trademark resolution to carry on (closer “In The Morning”) all make appearances here.

Of course, Saturnalia Superman wouldn’t manage to be an ATD LP if it didn’t somehow pull off being a party, even in its bleakest moments. It isn’t his most consistent album – much of his merry band of thieves is missing (can we imagine Christmas Big Narstie? Let’s.) – but Saturnalia Superman can’t help being an enjoyable time, even in its more experimental and meandering moments. Another solid entry in the ATD catalogue (though not strictly ATD 27), Saturnalia Superman is supremely topical during the season, and offers several tracks destined to prove their staying power in the Akira catalogue. It goes by quickly, a widely various series of Christmas-themed sketches in the life of one more dude trying to get by. It’s an Xmas album for people that live in the real world, who’ve had experiences, that aren’t much for major commercialism and don’t know what to think about God but know they like hip-hop and spending time with their folks. How much more can we ask for for Christmas than that?

7.5

Bonus Level:

Saturnalia Superman As a Christmas Album is a grand triumph, intelligent, heartfelt and earnest. As a simultaneous lover and critic of the Christmas season, this sort of thing really does it for me. I do love it, but in the above review I had to acknowledge its faults. As a big Akira fan and a big Christmas fan, though, I have to say this is definitely going to be spinning all holiday season. Much more interesting, dense and listenable than any Christmas album I’ve heard in years. Highly recommended. 

Based solely as a Yuletide experience, Saturnalia Superman gets a  coveted 4.5/5 baubles. Do with that as you will.  

Akira the Don provides many of his services over the internet: his website is here, and he would love it very much if you’d cop a free listen off the stream, and then buy yourself some copies. 

Originally published right here, December 2011. 

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Final Form Games – Jamestown

Remember Jamestown, the first permanent Colonial settlement in the New World, the one that succeeded where Roanoke mysteriously failed? Turns out Roanoke was destroyed by a giant cyclopian plant-monster. Jamestown succeeded because men in zooming steampunk ships blew up enough tentacle aliens and aggressive Spaniards to ward off the intruders, dodging bullet-hellish laser arrays and picking up floating ducats all the way through. Sometimes they teamed up in groups of up to four with different ships, dying a whole lot because they were poor pilots and had been drinking beer. Mars can be such a cruel place.

Since I hail from the great white frozen north, my American history is a bit shaky, to say the least. I don’t know a thing about Jamestown, Virginia or the mysterious disappearance of Roanoke, which in turn makes Jamestown’s Colonial fanfic that much more intriguing; its skeletal storyline is historically reverential, but its gameplay pays homage to Cave Co. shoot-’em-ups (“shmups”) and bullet-hell fliers just as much as it owes its alt-history storyline to every cheesy Space-Opera you’ve ever secretly loved. Final Form Games’s shooter is epic stuff: as Walter Raleigh, escapee to the New World (literally, Mars), you find yourself in the new colony of Jamestown, seeking to prove your merit to your King and absolve the charges of murder brought against you. What follows is pure action, a Neo-Colonial fanfic for the ages, leading you from the steampunk Spaniard frontlines all the way into the Lovecraftian heart of Mars itself.

None of this ambitious setup would matter if it didn’t play like a dream: selecting from one of four unlockable ships (bought with ducats, from the “shoppe”), up to four players can collaborate on local multiplayer, flying their steampunk-y ships with keyboards, mice, and as many gamepads as you can cram into your PC (or Mac!). Keyboard control is my personal favourite as Jamestown’s overwhelming bullet-arrays frequently call for precise movement, but the mouse option is certainly appealing, and I can only imagine that play with a gamepad would be nearly sublime. In classic top-down-shooter style you’ll spend the whole game progressing upwards, firing each craft’s signature special weapon while dodging enemies and gathering ducats to activate your score and shield-multiplying “Vaunt” mode. You might even manage to figure out the proper order of destruction that causes each(!) enemy in the game to drop its ‘Special’ bonus points, a trick I still haven’t been able to riddle out for the good majority of Martians and Spaniards. Jamestown is a top-down shooter in the classic shmup tradition: it’s got screen-filling bosses, multiplayer action and more than enough difficulty levels (from Beginner to Divine) to ease anyone into the action – even though the endgame’s minimum difficulty ramps up to (hard-mode) Legendary, making the final level a true bullet-riddled challenge.

Speaking of classic traditions, Jamestown’s soundtrack is easily worth the asking price (usually $10). An epic symphonic arrangement of synthesizers and perfectly Sci-Fi blips and bleeps, at its best Francisco Cerda’s music evokes Chrono Trigger composer Yasunori Mitsuda’s legendary work, while installing a pumping, electronic style all its own. The OST perfectly complements the graphics, which will have 16-bit fetishists (you’re reading one now) cheering with glee whenever the beautifully-detailed backgrounds evoke Secret of Mana or Final Fantasy. As a shoot-’em-up, each level is on rails, meaning the music has the opportunity to shift dynamically with the appearance of bosses, the entrance into tunnels and chasms and, of course, your multitude deaths. This musical accompaniment is fantastic and compliments the action perfectly. In terms of sheer presentation, Jamestown is an A+, no doubt – it sells itself so well that I was on the verge of impulse-buying it even before it appeared in this month’s Humble Indie Bundle (close one!).

Jamestown is hands-down my favourite recent shoot-’em-up, and one of the best indie games of the year, but like all shmups  there are limitations (yes, it’s a word). For one, Jamestown is a short thrill-ride: if you’re playing on Legendary mode (as experienced players will want to), you’ll be through the story in a clean hour and a half or so. I’m no pro, so it took me about four hours, including liberal level-replays to farm ducats for unlockables (of which there are new ships, bonus levels and an alternate, farcical story mode). The multiplayer component of Jamestown is clearly designed to encourage players into the same room as one another, for that additional excitement-factor, but it’s certainly a game that would profit enormously from online play. Jamestown’s shortness is mitigated by its density, including Farce story mode, Gauntlet, Hardcore mode and multiplayer – for many, simply the pursuit of online high-score boards will last them for weeks to come. There’s also the Gunpowder, Treason and Plot DLC ($3) to extend your playtime, which I fully intend to purchase down the line. All in all, Jamestown’s weaknesses are few: if you love shmups, and you don’t mind the brevity of the campaign narrative, there’s a lot to love here, and a whole lot of difficulty levels (and nigh-impossible bonus challenge levels) to chew on.

Jamestown is one of those games whose gameplay is such an arcadey joy to play, and whose presentation (both musically and visually) is so vibrant and pitch-perfect, that I know I’ll be coming back to it for midnight play-sessions for months to come. It’s a blast, it’s hilarious, and it threatens to teach you a bit of American history. I love Jamestown, I think you will too. Grab some friends and shoot some martian squids, it’s ten dollars very well-spent.

9.0

Part 2 of my series on Humble Indie Bundle #4, available here until about a day after Christmas. Re-route that ten bucks to charity, or pay whatever other amount you want for five great games and their soundtracks, DRM-free. Beat the average (about $6) for two more games and soundtracks. Money goes to charity, everybody wins, I get to keep writing reviews. Whee!

Originally published right here, December 2011. 

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Gaijin Games – Bit.Trip Runner

Remember Frequency and Amplitude? How about every artsy video-game critic’s favourite springboard, Rez? Those games immersed the player in a synesthetic experience, vastly prioritizing presentation and sensory stimulation over context. In doing so they achieved a singularity of design, uniting form and function (and tactility and audio-visual feedback) into a smorgasbord for the senses – spend time playing either and the veil of input nearly drops away, leaving only player and game in a strange, synesthetic union. Play any of them in a dark room with headphones on and you’re left with a startlingly pure experience, and one that later rhythm games like Guitar Hero struggled to emulate. Gaijin Games knows how it is: BIT.TRIP RUNNER drops right into place, swapping Rez’s Sci-Fi conceit for  Atari homage and adding in a healthy dose of absurd, unforgivingly difficult platforming for a startlingly fresh platforming experience.

Fourth in its series, BIT.TRIP RUNNER sure looks like a platformer: watching gameplay clips on YouTube, I initially came to the conclusion that it was a quirky and oddly-speedy homage to Pitfall, complete with pretty ambient techno music. Well, I was about half-right. What you can’t tell from the trailers is that BIT.TRIP RUNNER is on autopilot: yes, you’re controlling Commander Video, but he’s more than happy to sprint blindly to his death. Your job is to control his limbs: jumping, sliding, blocking, kung-fu kicking and springing your way past a litany of colourful, pixellated obstacles and enemies. It’s an on-rails platformer, in a sense – every level has a “right” path, with the odd fork over/under an impediment, and if you deviate, you die. Over and over, zapped back to the beginning of the stage, of which there are 36 (with corresponding bonus levels) over 3 worlds. Throughout those 3 worlds you’ll be dodging everything from errant UFOs, to flying balls of sewage, to hopping over outcrops of crystal and kicking piles of boxes in their boxy faces, and should you so much as poke a rock with your toe or kick when you should have slide-hop-blocked, you’re restarting. Again. Simple as that.

So BIT.TRIP RUNNER  is fussy – very, very fussy: it has a particular path, and you’re going to find it, or you’re going to ragequit. That’s fine, it injects each level with a sort of quick-draw puzzle element. Like the games whose Atari visuals B.TR pays homage, it rewards practice and repetition. In conversation I’ve likened these trial runs to learning piano: practice makes perfect, but of course the more you practice the more you’ll find ways to mess up sections you thought you had down pat, slowly driving yourself insane. It’s a satisfying sort of intense frustration, but the piano metaphor doesn’t end there: I’ll go on the record right here and say BIT.TRIP RUNNER is nothing without its music. Like its rhythm-game forbears, BIT.TRIP is not as it appears – Rez wasn’t a rail-shooter, Frequency/Amplitude weren’t reflex-testing tunnel-fliers, and BIT.TRIP RUNNER certainly isn’t a platformer.

Immediately upon launch, you’ll notice patron chip-rockers Anamanaguchi playing on the title-screen. Classy. Then, you’ll notice Commander Video’s little pixellated running-sound, then the blips and bleeps that emerge every time you dodge successfully. Then the expanding, electronic soundtrack that deepens and undulates every time you pick up the red floating cross power-ups. After about two levels, once you’re playing confidently, you’ll notice each of these elements synchs perfectly to each level’s background beat, forming an interactive sonic puzzle. BIT.TRIP RUNNER’s grand solution isn’t memorization, it’s a highly-tuned sense of rhythm – watch someone skilled play through a level, and a song emerges. Because the dodge-notes are random, the song changes slightly each replay, and each time you die the track carries right on without you (with Commander Video sometimes waiting for the downbeat to begin his run – a nice touch). BIT.TRIP RUNNER is, secretly, a very well-hidden rhythm game, and like all great rhythm games it is eventually synesthetic, the player’s inputs synching to its soundtrack to immerse the player fully in its gameplay. When it clicks, and the gorgeous (but limited) soundtrack kicks in, playing BIT.TRIP RUNNER is a beautiful aesthetic experience.

So I like BIT.TRIP RUNNER, it’s true. I’ve always been a sucker for games that prioritize style over substance, and that dearth of substance is occasionally noticeable here too. For one, its short – I’ve put in about six hours, and am on the second-to-last level, but I’ve been taking my time, trying for high scores and generally enjoying the aesthetic. It’s also brutally, at times apparently unfairly, difficult, though failure is always your fault, as the input is flawless (provided you’re working without lag). BIT.TRIP RUNNER demands nothing less than mechanical perfection, and for most players that’s going to take a very long time to develop – in a sense this helps off-put the limited amount of levels. There’s also effectively no storyline, and although exploring the rest of the series will likely remedy that issue, a little context to my hopping would have been nice. More problematic still is that like all great showmen BIT.TRIP RUNNER left me wanting more: more music, different tempos and sound-effects to play around in, more than three worlds’ worth of panoramas to explore. Its immaculately integrated sound-design might preclude user-generated content, but dangit that would be cool too. There’s no stylistic trap-door here that’s going to pull you in if you don’t dig the style either (check a trailer), but if you’re down for some hardcore arcadey action this Holiday season – and Super Meat Boy is a little too gross and cruel for you – you can’t go wrong with BIT.TRIP RUNNER.

8.0

Part 1 of my series on Humble Indie Bundle #4, available here until roughly the 27th. Pay what you want for five fantastic games and downloads of their soundtracks, DRM free, Mac/Linux/PC with Steam/Desura. Pay more than the average (currently about six bucks) for two additional games and soundtracks. The money goes to charity, so there’s no way to go wrong here: I urge you to do this.  

Originally published right here, December 2011. 

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