Adrian Collins's Blog, page 97

Cyberpunk 2077 Two Years Later

Cyberpunk 2077 remains one of the great controversial games of 2020. Also, 2021, and only started to lose that reputation around 2022. It was, to quote Obi-Wan Kenobi, supposed to be the Chosen One and ended up being Darth Vader instead. However, everyone loves a redemption story and if I were to give CD Projekt Red any props then it will be for the fact that they spent the past couple of years trying to fix the game that shouldn’t have been released in the state that it was.

So how is Cyberpunk 2077 in 2023? I’m going to answer that question with all the latest patches, up-to-date hardware (that was a perfect storm of bad timing since the majority of fans didn’t have access to due to microchip shortages), and an open mind. I’ve also played the game in its original broken state, on last generation hardware, and with all the disappointment that can only come from someone who is a mammoth cyberpunk fan as well as author.

The premise, for newcomers, is that you are V, a street merc in Night City. Night City is the most violent city in a post-apocalypse America where technology is advanced but savagery is the order of the day. Superpowerful corporations rule the city’s skylines and bloodthirsty gangs rule the streets. V’s background is determined by your choices such as being a corpo (corporate), Nomad (wastelander), or Street Kid (what the title says) but all of them more or less end up in the same place.

The majority of the game has your character fused with an AI reconstruction of a tabletop RPG character from the original Cyberpunk 2020 game: Johnny Silverhand. Johnny Silverhand is played by Keanu Reeves, in yet another iconic cyberpunk role, and is a burnt out anarchist terrorist that urges you to take anti-corporate but ultimately futile stances. Oh and your character is dying with only a few weeks left to live.

The updates to the game haven’t really affected the main plot and there’s still plenty of issues to have with that. The game suffers ludo-narrative dissonance with the fact V is dying of an incurable (?) brain disease that implies you should rush through the main plot but Night City is an open world setting that is full of hundreds of adventures to do for in-universe money. This leads to the somewhat weird feeling that V can be as rich and glamorous as Tony Montana but doesn’t have any time to enjoy it. That may be deliberate as a storytelling choice but it’s not as fun as it could be.

The big changes are the fact that the game has about 90% less bugs and broken quests, which still leaves some in the game. Unlike in writing books, however, you’re allowed a few when you’re making video games and there’s a “normal” level of these now. Compared to launch where I had to reload my crashing game near constantly, I had almost no issues whatsoever this time around and I could appreciate the game’s visuals much better. The occasional pop in and glitch seemed a small price to pay.

Another large change is the driving mechanics have received an overhaul. Previously, the game’s cars and motorcycles drove like utter crap, which was a bad thing when much of the city is set up to accommodate cars. The revised system works much better but I still mostly walked around Night City and used its fast travel system. The much despised police system remains unchanged but since they will only go after you if you injure an innocent or approach them the wrong way (like real cops *rimshot*), there’s very little need to interact with PCs. Still no car chases or car customization with only a few racing missions.

Some of the things added to the game really do increase its enjoyment factor, though. A group of additional apartments for V to purchase are excellent for giving you the sense he (or she) is actually moving up the Night City ranks. We also have a transmog system that allows you to dress your V however you want without losing any of the benefits of armor. There’s also additional activities to do at your apartments like drinking coffee and taking showers that provide bonuses. These little things add a lot to the immersion element of Night City that had previously been pretty absent.

For fans of Cyberpunk: Edgerunners, there’s also some additional nods toward the anime. There’s not many of them but as a fan of it, I really enjoyed it. However, it underscores the fact that really there needed to be more content for the game. I also appreciated the addition of text messages from your love interests that deepened the somewhat shallow relationships from the original game. Hopefully, we’ll get that when we get the DLC Phantom Liberty but Night City has gone from being “good” to “great” but could have been “greatest of all time.” Still, Night City is a monumental accomplishment and the characters are fantastic.

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Groping the Elephant by Mark Lawrence

I’m terrible at giving writing advice. Partly it’s because my approach has essentially no structure and “Just do it.” might serve as a motivational sound bite but it’s not a great deal of help for someone struggling at a complex task. But my subpar advice giving isn’t entirely down to the inscrutable nature of my own approach. It’s also because I recognise that we’re all different. This wasn’t an instinctive understanding. I was always rather shocked to find that there were people who actively disliked the things I like most. But sufficient repetition did eventually get the message through the thickness of my skull. Writers are so varied in their approach that to offer them specific, prescriptive advice has always seemed foolish to me.

This has been a long walk to say that readers are also that varied, and what works for one will often not work for the next. And finally we reach my actual topic: grimdark. What else would Mark Lawrence write about for Grimdark Magazine?

I last wrote a book I consider to be grimdark more than 10 years ago (Emperor of Thorns) but to many I will always be grimdark-author-Mark-Lawrence. That’s less testimony to the sticking (staining?) power of grimdark than it is to readers’ desire to put authors on one shelf and have them stay there. I think the same thing would have happened if I had opened with a romance or a comedy. It’s convenient to both publishers and readers if authors pick a lane and stay in it. It’s inconvenient only to me – I get bored.

But I digress. Grimdark! A word that has launched a thousand ships onto the stormy waters of defining a new subgenre. I’m not here to define it though I have taken shots at that in the past (see the end of this article for perhaps my most successful). I’m simply here to describe one of its features like one of the blind men describing the elephant by touch in the parable first seen in a Buddhist text ~2,500 years ago.

First let me offer you the thoughts of some of the others who have run their hands over this particular portion of the beast. Grimdark is, they say, relentless grim and dark (it’s all in the name), nihilistic and without even a glimmer of hope. Everything is worthless, there’s no point, why bother. And why, they say, would I want to read something like that? There is, they say, enough pain and sorrow in the world. Anyone who, like them, wishes to cheer themselves up should, they say, turn to some cosy fantasy, some light spirited comedy, some tale of hearts and flower filled meadows.

This is a perfectly valid response. We are, as I have led with, all different. I have known people with severe depression who self-medicate with an hour of stand-up comedians mainlined into their arteries via the medium of Youtube. It has seemed helpful to them.

When I’m having a bad day I seek distraction and I’m not really fussy about the form, it could be comedy, but equally well it could be a re-run of Aliens. “They come at night … mostly.” But I’m definitely not going to be seeking out anything particularly sad. Schindler’s List is right out!

And this brings me to the greatest surprise of my writing career after the fact that I have a writing career. I have received many – we’re talking dozens now – of messages from readers of The Broken Empire trilogy that credit the books with helping them out of dark places in their lives. Out of. Not into.

 I have had emails from a young man in a non-voluntary camp for survivors of recent suicide attempts. I’ve had messages from people suffering the worst kinds of depression. From people struggling with addiction of many kinds. Messages from people of different ages, sexes, and walks of life, all saying that following Jorg through his various rampages helped them deal with the shit that the real world was dumping on them.

Colour me surprised. Somehow the allegedly hopeless story of a violent, and in lots of ways despicable, young man was a lifeline to not just one or two individuals, but many. And as with all these things, I have to assume that what shows in my inbox is the tip of the iceberg.

These lines, more than 10 years old now, are from a young man who eventually did take his own life, but not for more than 5 years after this incident:

“I saw how Jorg had triumphed against all odds and I was inspired. Not to be a killer, but to not give up. This helped me through treatment.” 

So, my message for all those people who take time out of their busy schedules to make posts letting everyone know how terrible grimdark is, is not an attempt to change their particular reading tastes – just a reminder to them, were they to be reading this,  of quite how different we all are. They might, in their minds, pattern readers of grimdark into some caricature, people delighting in the misery of others or some equally ungenerous interpretation. I’d like to call, as a sometime writer of grimdark, for a little more kindness, cosiness if you will, and understanding that the value others find in these works is not something that you should trivialise and paint as shallow or mean-spirited. It’s just another example of the wonderful diversity of our kind.

And, to conclude, as promised here’s that definition of grimdark that seemed to find favour among those who call it their preferred subgenre:

Grimdark is often called hopeless, but in doing so people miss that it isn’t apathetic – it is (for me) characterised by defiance in the absence of hope.

Grimdark is often called nihilistic, but this misses the idea that you can accept a nihilistic truth and still choose to die for a principle you know is an emotional construct.

A grimdark “hero” has a tendency to go all in – to burn their bridges even when they don’t need the warmth. They are, in their way, an allegory for hope, in so much as having been shown there’s no meaning in the world, they still cling to some elements of it. And in those choices they are revealed.

The way it’s painted by the disapproving you would think that grimdark fiction was the literature of surrender to the inevitable. When in truth it is the story of the battle against it – sharpened by the knowledge that there’s no ultimate victory to be had.  

 

Read Mark Lawrences Newest Novel, The Book That Wouldn’t Burn

 

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REVIEW: Tales From The Magician’s Skull – No. 10

First debuting in 2018, Goodman Publications’ Tales From The Magician’s Skull has reached its landmark tenth issue. While the arrival of new magazines dedicated to short fantasy fiction is not uncommon, Tales From The Magician’s Skull distinguishes itself from its fellows via its specific editorial focus and high production values. Directed by editor Howard Andrew Jones, the magazine is dedicated to never-before-published stories written in the classic pulp Sword & Sorcery tradition.

In addition to digital formats, the magazine is available in high-quality physical volumes manufactured via traditional offset printing (rather than print-on-demand). This tenth issue boasts a vibrant cover painting by veteran paperback cover and comic book artist Sanjulian, and each of the nine stories contained within have been given their own accompanying black and white illustration. Interior artists include Jennell Jaquays, Brad McDevitt, and Stefan Poag.

In an essay titled “Defining Sword-and-Sorcery” (collected in special issue No. 0 of Tales From The Magician’s Skull), Jones describes his vision of the S&S sub-genre and what distinguishes it from other varieties of fantasy. He highlights the outsider hero as one of the hallmarks of S&S: the protagonists often exist on the margins of society as wandering barbarians or thieves, rather than comfortably ensconced nobles and townsfolk. S&S heroes tend to live by their wits and martial ability, with magic either unreliable as a tool or outright malignant. And rather than lofty ideals or nation-level politics, these heroes tend to be motivated by earthier, more immediate concerns: the acquisition of wealth, romantic desire or lust, or the simple will to survive another day. Jones also emphasizes the breakneck pacing of S&S stories and their focus on violent action. All of the stories contained in this tenth issue demonstrate these qualities, making Tales From The Magician’s Skull an easy recommendation to readers who enjoy an abundance of action and peril in their fantasy.

The magazine’s cover art is dedicated to “The Demon Rats,” by C. L. Werner, a prolific author of licensed fiction set in the various WARHAMMER settings. The story involves Shintaro Oba, a disgraced samurai who finds himself tasked with exterminating a suspiciously coordinated horde of iron-fanged rodents intent on destroying a temple’s library of scriptures. He receives some assistance from an alluring shape-shifter with her own agenda. While Shintaro Oba has appeared in previous stories, no prior knowledge of the character is required to enjoy this adventure. Both the premise and characters are colorful, but some of the names feel awkwardly constructed in Japanese.

Perhaps the simplest story in the issue is also one of the most effective. “Green Face, Purple Haze” by Marc DeSantis is about an American soldier in the Vietnam War who finds himself magically transported to a fantasy realm with its own battles raging. Gunpowder fails to work, robbing him of the technological advantage of his assault rifle, but his modern military training and indomitable fighting spirit serve him well in the conflict between humans and the bestial urks. Although the specific words of the modern US Marine mantra “Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.” do not appear in the text, this story entertainingly celebrates that ethos. With its focus on the unchanging nature of war and visceral combat descriptions, this story in particular has a lot to love for grimdark enthusiasts.

Many of the stories collected in this issue are grounded and gritty, but others venture into much stranger territory. “The Sorcerer’s Mask” by Jason Ray Carney, managing editor of Whetstone: Amateur Magazine of Pulp Sword and Sorcery, involves an unnamed thief unjustly cast into a vast dungeon by a paranoid immortal wizard. The Rogue must rely on his wits and the aid of an enigmatic soothsayer to effect his escape, and there is a sense of grim inevitability leading up to the final confrontation. The story moves quickly despite its vivid detail, covering a surprising amount of ground in a mere six pages. “A Simple Errand” by Grimdark Magazine contributor Matthew John also involves a prison break, but one where a sorcerer (or “meddler” in the story’s parlance) frees a barbarian warrior awaiting execution in order to put him to work on a dark mission: killing an alien god on another world. This adventure is packed with hallucinatory imagery worthy of Roger Dean’s cosmic prog rock album artwork.

A surprise highlight of the issue was “The Black Pearl of the Sunken Lands,” by Cynthia Ward. In this story, a headstrong youth named Bruko vows to reclaim a legendary lost treasure to prove himself worthy of the affections of a beautiful maiden. This familiar premise is freshened by the fact that the protagonist is a nereus (aquatic humanoid) and his sidekick in the endeavor is an intelligent dolphin with blades strapped to his fins. It’s a simple thing, but the underwater setting makes a significant difference in the feel of the story. Ward’s sly humor further enhances the piece; the object of Bruko’s affections makes it pretty obvious to the reader that she’s not especially interested in marrying Bruko, and the dolphin companion proves to be more intelligent than the hero he’s accompanying.

The stories in this issue all share brisk pacing and an emphasis on swordplay, but their heroes are diverse in nature. In addition to Werner’s samurai hero, African-inspired and Native American warriors (in “Nzara” by D. J. Tyrer and “The Silent Mound” by Charles D. Shell, respectively) also have opportunities to shine. One of the toughest and most physically imposing characters herein is a woman: Dakagna, heroine of the grimdark-inflected “Dakagna and the Blood Scourge” by W. J. Lewis. At the opposite end of the spectrum is Jade, the heroine of Jeffery Sergent’s “The Eye of Kaleet,” who uses guile to survive situations where she is clearly outmatched martially.

The issue concludes with a brief appendix entitled “The Monster Pit,” giving various monsters appearing in the fiction game statistics for use with the publisher’s Dungeon Crawl Classics Role Playing Game. This is a fun addendum for players of DCC RPG or other games with systems largely compatible with early editions of Dungeons & Dragons, but the page count it occupies is minimal, meaning that non-gamer readers are unlikely to feel alienated or slighted by the non-prose content.

Ten issues and nearly five years in, Tales From The Magician’s Skull continues to deliver fantastic action-adventure tales in an appealing and polished package. Previous issues included a number of established names familiar to fans of contemporary Sword & Sorcery—Adrian Cole, James Enge, John C. Hocking, Violette Malan—but the most recent installments have also begun incorporating exciting newer voices as well. The magazine enjoys near universal acclaim among Sword & Sorcery readers and has become a sort of Holy Grail venue for S&S writers looking to showcase their work, but—like the sub-genre itself—one still gets the feeling that Tales From The Magician’s Skull isn’t quite getting the sort of wider recognition its quality deserves. Whether this is due to difficulties in promoting short fantasy fiction in today’s increasingly entertainment-saturated market is unclear. Perhaps the magazine’s association with a role-playing game publisher and each issue’s appendix of game statistics lead some fantasy readers to assume that Tales From The Magician’s Skull is an RPG magazine, rather than an original fiction magazine with some bonus RPG content. Sword & Sorcery tales are full of scrappy underdogs doing whatever it takes to survive, but like those heroes it’s nice to see the underdogs rewarded in the end with glory and gold. Other Grimdark Magazine contributors (cf. Matthew John’s Robert E. Howard: Godfather of Grimdark? and John R. Fultz’s The Mud, The Blood, and the Years: Why “Grimdark” is the New “Sword and Sorcery”) have remarked upon the considerable amount of shared DNA between Sword & Sorcery and grimdark fantasy fiction. Grimdark readers are encouraged to give Tales From The Magician’s Skull a look, perhaps it will become a new favorite discovery.

Read Tales From The Magician’s Skull – No. 10 edited by Howard Andrew Jones

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REVIEW: The Fisherman by John Langan

Abe is a widower who lost his wife to cancer. Another coworker of his, Dan, lost his family in a car accident. To get their minds off their losses, they take up fishing together. On some of those trips, Abe swears he can still hear his deceased wife’s voice.

John Langan’s The Fisherman is a fantastic horror novel, and winner of the 2016 Bram Stoker Award. Like the best horror, it gives you time to like and understand the characters before the truly eerie parts happen.

There are three parts to The Fisherman. The first is just about Abe and Dan becoming fishing buddies while processing their losses. Even though this could just as easily fall into literary fiction for the first part of the story, there’s a low sense of dread and unease throughout. When Dan decides they have to go to Dutchman’s Creek, a river not on any map, the tension snaps into place. Dan’s evasive on where he found out about this river, claiming it was in an outdated old guide.

On their trip to Dutchman’s Creek they stop in an old diner, and here the supernatural element that could have previously been explained away as the mind playing tricks comes to the forefront. Howard’s Diner is empty except for them, though there should be a crowd at this time. And when they say they’re about to fish Dutchman’s Creek, Howard, a complete stranger to them, starts relaying the story behind Dutchman’s Creek, which takes up the entire middle act of the book. He relays it with perfect precision, and Abe, unable to get it out of his head, writes it down with even more information he shouldn’t know.

At this point The Fisherman becomes a full fantastical horror, following the construction of the Reservoir prior to the first world war. The story comes from a minister who heard it from the daughter of a professor involved in it, and more pieces she gets from her husband, who had helped her father at this time. The nested nature of these stories means there are areas where the story just stops to explain that they don’t know exactly what happened here and there, but these are their best guesses.

The professor, Rainer, is an immigrant from Germany who had been forced to leave his university, and it’s clear it’s because he was studying the occult. In a lot of books, the occultist professor would be the clear villain; here, he’s the only one with any chance to know what they’re dealing with and how to stave it off. This section, due to the more distant voice telling the story, is the least emotionally resonant part, even as there is a lot more actual plot, full of sorcery and horror and things that should not be.

After Abe and Dan leave Howard’s Diner, despite the warnings, they nonetheless head to Dutchman’s Creek. Here the present story and the past collide, and The Fisherman goes fully into the uncanny. Howard’s story has a sense of local legend, but here the story of two widowers suddenly confronting that place where the real meets the unreal effectively creates some real terror.

Langan’s prose is slow and detailed but very effective, and his characterization is sharp though subdued. The story, with all its century-spanning depth, takes its time in building up the characters and the stakes. And The Fisherman has one of the creepiest final lines I’ve read.

Read The Fisherman by John Langan

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REVIEW: Cyberpunk 2077: You Have My Word

Cyberpunk 2077: You Have My Word is one of the Cyberpunk 2077 spin-off fiction comics by Dark Horse comics. I’ve enjoyed several of these comics and had mixed feelings on others. Basically, they’re short adventures set in Night City. If you aren’t a big fan of the world of Mike Pondsmith and the later CD Projekt Red setting, then these are probably not for you. If you are, it’s good to check on whether the spin off fiction has some value other than a cash grab.

The premise of this comic is a revenge story. A family living out of Night City in the Badlands, not quite Nomads but closer to them than the city folk, is one struggling to survive in their trailer park existence. All the family has secrets. One of them being a former Militech soldier with an exaggerated belief that the company cares about its veterans after they leave their service. Another being a former Edgerunner with a legendary reputation. A third being an up-and-coming Edgerunner who is supporting her family with the violent dangerous lifestyle.

Things go horribly wrong in Night City because, well, that’s how life goes in the post-capitalist hellhole built on the Pacific Bay. One of them is killed and a mission of revenge begins that starts to unravel all the various secrets that all of them have been hiding. The people involved in the murders are also far closer to the family than any of them would have imagined.

I’m going to state this is probably the best of the Cyberpunk 2077 comics. I had my issues with Where’s Johnny and Trauma Team, but this manages to capture most of the essence of the game as well as its complicated plot. So much of it that I kind of regret this is just a miniseries and wish it had been part of an ongoing storyline. However, I will give the comic the additional praise of saying that it sticks to the landing.

The best part of You Have My Word is the fact that the ending is earned. A lot of the comics end in tragedy or despair but this one is just an organic follow-up of the events that happened throughout the story. Plus, it fit the characters as we know them. When there’s a twist, you may not see it coming you but understand how the persons involved came to the decisions that they made. Which is rarer than you think in these kinds of stories.

Indeed, the biggest failure of the comic is that it is only four issues and at the very least, this could have had two more issues of character development for what is genuinely interesting and well-written characters. I understand why they may have dialed down the size of the work but I think the comic deserved more space.

The art in the Cyberpunk 2077 comics is always beautiful with a mixture of gritty and colorful that makes them enjoyable to read. The action is subdued but visceral and the writing is excellent. It’s not necessary to buy, there are no characters from the main game, but it’s a nice piece of side content that I think people will enjoy.

Read Cyberpunk 2077: You Have My Word

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REVIEW: The Return of the Knights by Gregory Kontaxis

The Return of the Knights is the debut novel by Greek fantasy author Gregory Kontaxis and the first volume of his series, The Dance of Light. Originally published in Greek, The Return of the Knights has been translated into English by Sophia Travlos.

Gregory Kontaxis embraces the classic chosen one trope with Elliot, the main protagonist of the story. A village boy who exhibits unusual talents both on the battlefield and in politics, Elliot comes from a humble background but is full of hubris. Overconfident and brash, everything comes a bit too easily for Elliot. I know this is a well-worn fantasy trope, but personally I found Elliot to be overly grating. Grimdark aficionado that I am, I often found myself rooting for the villain just to see Elliot knocked down to size.

Speaking of villains, The Return of the Knights features an archetypal bloodthirsty, power-hungry antagonist in Walter Thorn, a local governor who wages war against the Queen of Knightdorn. Although I cannot quite accept a villain with such an innocuous name as Walter, his violent actions speak clearly for themselves. My favorite parts of The Return of the Knights were whenever Walter walked onto the page with his over-the-top villainy.

The worldbuilding in The Return of the Knights is excellent in terms of its epic scope and complexity. There is a clear influence from A Game of Thrones in the breadth of Kontaxis’s world. If Kontaxis can also match George R.R. Martin’s depth of worldbuilding in future installments of his series, then I could see a loyal fanbase emerging for the land of Knightdorn.

Although my own knowledge of the Greek language is restricted to its use in mathematics, the translation by Sophia Travlos seems quite proficient. The prose flows smoothly throughout the book, with only a few awkward word choices. My only complaint about the writing style is its overreliance on dialogue. I would have preferred a greater emphasis on showing rather than telling the reader.

The Return of the Knights embraces classic epic fantasy and many of its well-worn tropes while also delivering a story full of political intrigue and action. Although many aspects of the book follow standard constructs, Gregory Kontaxis serves up a few shocking twists near the end of the book.

Overall, The Return of the Knights is recommended for epic fantasy fans wishing to quench their thirst for all the classic tropes. Gregory Kontaxis clearly has a lot of talent, and I look forward to reading more from this up-and-coming author.

3/5

Read The Return of the Knights by Gregory Kontaxis

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REVIEW: The Way of Shadows by Brent Weeks

Azoth’s days are numbered. Stuck within a city with no culture but street culture and a guild controlled by a sadistic thug, young Azoth fights for survival. Driven by fear and desperation, he seeks the legendary killer, Durzo Blint. For Guild rats like Azoth, tomorrow is never a guarantee. To escape death on the streets, Azoth must convince Blint to take him as an apprentice. He will risk it all to become everything he is not. Unafraid. Dangerous. Invincible. Someone like Durzo Blint. Though Azoth will learn even legends have their own dark fears. Brent Weeks imagines a cruel world swarming with political schemes, magic, and assassinations in The Way of Shadows.

Life as a guild rat is cruel. It is a life where innocence and childhood do not exist. The horrors we witness through Azoth’s eyes give authenticity to his need to escape. Brent Weeks excels at depicting bleak scenarios with even worse outcomes. The Way of Shadows is not about overcoming evil. It is about forsaking morality to survive.

“Life is empty. When we take a life, we aren’t taking anything of value. Wetboys are killers. That’s all we do. That’s all we are. There are no poets in the bitter business.”

The Way of Shadows begins in the filthy warrens of the city but no corner of Cenaria is safe. While Azoth is one of the main perspectives, Brent Weeks provides the insights of several characters ranging from the Mistress of Pleasures, a duke, and those of the criminal underworld. While each perspective is vastly different, each character has their enemy. Danger stalks them all. A theme of “failure is worse than death” undertones each storyline. Brent Weeks writes with a fast and high stakes tempo, creating an urgent need to find out what happens next.

I first read The Way of Shadows not long after its 2008 release. Back then, I hadn’t read too many books with morally gray characters especially from a main perspective. I never even heard of the term “grimdark.” Rereading The Way of Shadows now I realized this book was an important foundation for discovering my favorite subgenre. My appreciation for amoral characters led me to discovering books such as The Broken Empire, The Gentlemen Bastards, and Manifest Delusions. It was perfect nostalgia.

The Way of Shadows is a checklist for great dark fantasy- cool fight scenes, political intrigues, compelling characters, a harsh environment, wonderous creatures and magic. It is well worth a read and reread.

Read The Way of Shadows by Brent Weeks

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REVIEW: A Plague Tale: Innocence

A Plague Tale: Innocence is a work of dark fantasy and that is a surprisingly rare (albeit by no means unknown) work among video games. Historical dark fantasy is even rarer as you don’t often see stories set in the “real” Middle Ages, let alone with the benefit of magic as well as other occult elements. Knowing that A Plague Tale would be set in 13th century France, during the Black Death, and have supernatural elements thus made me very intrigued with this title.

The premise is that fifteen-year-old Amicia De Rune is the daughter of a minor noble house, living a happy life with her parents as well as dog. Lion. Yes, a dog named Lion. I have no idea why this bothers me but it’s literally one of my three or four complaints about the game. Amicia also has a five-year-old little brother, Hugo, who suffers from some unstated ailment that keeps him bedroom as well as isolated from the rest of the family. Hugo’s illness has severely impacted Amicia’s relationship with her mother and resulted in her becoming a somewhat anachronistic tomboy in Medieval France as her father picks up the slack.

Well, things go to hell very quickly as Lion the dog is killed in the most genuinely upsetting part of the game. A nightmarish horde of rats representing the Black Death pours out from the ground and signals the plague is here. It’s not the plague that ruins Amicia’s life, however, but the Papal Inquisition. The Papal Inquisition believes, possibly correctly, that Beatrice De Rune is a practicing sorcerer/alchemist and carry out a massacre. This results in Amicia being seemingly orphaned and forced to flee with her brother.

 

The game becomes a giant escort mission where you attempt to stay ahead of the Inquisition, which is obsessed less with the children’s mother than Hugo himself for reasons that gradually become clear. You also have to avoid the massive horde of rats that are less interested in spreading plague than eating poor Amicia alive. In addition to the Inquisition, you’ll also have to deal with superstitious villagers and English soldiers from the One Hundred Years War.

The game has a slightly believable element in the fact that Amicia de Rune can’t survive fighting any of these soldiers. It’s a one-hit, game over sort of situation since they’re all burly large men while she’s a fifteen-year-old girl less than a hundred pounds soaking wet. So, instead, you must sneak around the Medieval hellscape of dead bodies and abandoned ruins. Less realistic is the fact that Amicia is a master of the sling and if she can sneak attack these guards, she can start building up a body count in the low hundreds.

I have to admit, I actually like the respect being given to the sling. The sling is a surprisingly deadly weapon and people basically forget that it killed Goliath. While I don’t think Amicia could have slain quite as many people as she did, I do like the first couple of times she kills someone and how it causes her deep distress. Unfortunately, time starts to harden our heroine as she struggles to find respite from the constant barrage of horrors.

This is a horror game and a pretty good one at that. The picturesque Medieval community that is destroyed by the violent events that occur is well-done. It’s perhaps cheating that you have a sweet innocent girl have to crawl through giant rat pits that resemble the nest of the xenomorphs from Alien, walk through battlefields of hundreds of dead bodies, and see shocking act of violence after shocking act of violence but it works.

Gameplaywise, it is best described as serviceable and functional. Amicia sneaks, crafts, and slings across a linear set of areas. But just because it’s simple, doesn’t mean it’s not fun. I would have preferred more options, but a lot of the game’s appeal is how helpless our heroine is. Even when she’s got a few options like controlling rats via stink bombs and alchemical goodies, it’s still not too many options.

Really, I also have to give props to the game for its artistry and music as well. The environments are rich and lush, to the point that I really do recommend playing this PS4 game on PS5. They’re sort of the Medieval version of Ghost of Tsushima to me. So many memorable set pieces ranging from the beautiful to the nightmarish. The music is also fantastic with the violin parts my favorite. I even listen to it separate from the game on occasion.

If I had to say the appeal of A Plague’s Tale: Innocence, I would say that it has strong A Song of Ice and Fire energy. Note: I didn’t say Game of Thrones energy. This is much more the “teenager unwittingly in a zombie apocalypse” sort of story that is closer to the literary version of the story. Amicia just wants the horrible things that keep happening to her to stop and they just keep coming. It’s not going to be for everyone but people who enjoy grimdark I think will enjoy this game a great deal.

Speaking of grimdark, what would you enjoy following a teenage girl struggling to survive and trying to protect her bratty ill brother? Why do we enjoy the terrible suffering and nightmarish visages from the Dark Ages? Well, grimdark is a genre built on extremes. Amicia deserves to be in a better sort of fantasy and is a deeply likable character. Seeing her struggle not to break against the horribleness of the world invokes strong protective as well as sympathetic emotions. It’s not for everyone but for those who like it, I think they’ll like it a lot.

This is an older game to review, and the sequel has already come out but I think the original deserves props for what it achieved without a AAA budget. Just don’t play it if you’re afraid of rats.

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REVIEW: The Way of Edan by Philip Chase

Every word is worth savoring in The Way of Edan, the masterful debut epic fantasy from Philip Chase and the first volume in his Edan Trilogy.

J.R.R. Tolkien’s influence is evident throughout The Way of Edan, starting with the circuitous path taken by Philip Chase toward publication of his debut. Following in Tolkien’s footsteps, Chase first established himself as a prominent medievalist and professor of English before devoting many years to develop his own fantasy world, Eormenlond. Like Middle-earth, Eormenlond feels fully realized, with The Way of Edan only scratching the surface of its history and lore.

Chase also shares Tolkien’s love of the Old English epic poem, Beowulf, which Tolkien translated into modern English in the 1920s. Chase describes Beowulf as a lamentation for the past: “It’s about how the things that are so precious to us in the present moment won’t always be around — the people we are with and the things we surround ourselves with. There is a kind of impermanence to life, which is what makes it precious.” This sentiment also pervades The Lord of the Rings, and Chase has captured the same feeling with sorrowful beauty throughout The Way of Edan.

Like The Lord of the Rings, Chase’s novel is epic in scope but has a personal feel. Chase smoothly shifts third person narration among several point of view characters in The Way of Edan, seeing the world through their eyes and helping the reader develop strong attachments to each of the main characters.

The time and care that Chase has spent writing The Way of Edan is evident throughout the novel. The Way of Edan is the most perfectly conceived and executed debut fantasy that I have read since The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. Like Rothfuss, Chase’s writing is lyrical and evocative, without any of the stiffness sometimes associated with modern fantasy novels that strive too hard to achieve a classic feel.

Religion plays a pivotal role throughout The Way of Edan, as the kingdoms of Eormenlond descend into holy war. The title of the novel refers to the path of the god, Edan. Chase expertly captures the uneasy alliances that form between religious and political leaders, each seeking their own goals by taking advantage of the other.

I love a good soft magic system, and The Way of Edan delivers in spades, featuring mind melds, nature magic, miraculous healing, and much more. The scenes of magic instilled a sense of awe and mysticism that recalled the first time I read The Lord of the Rings as a child. There is a strong overlap between magic and religion in The Way of Edan, but religion does not have a monopoly on the magical arts.

The Way of Edan is surprisingly dark. Chase grabbed my attention from the opening prologue, giving realistic depictions of religious zealotry and violence. There are also a number of truly terrifying creatures dwelling in Eormenlond. Chase maintains an even pacing throughout the novel, introducing characters and worldbuilding in a natural fashion. I felt fully immersed in the story without ever becoming lost or confused, despite the complexity of the world and its large cast of characters. Grimdark fans will appreciate the gray morality embodied by several of the characters, in addition to those who appear objectively good or evil.

The Way of Edan strikes the perfect balance between modern and classic epic fantasy. Philip Chase manifests his deep love of literature in The Way of Edan, a lamentation that distills the best of fantasy from classics, such as Beowulf and The Lord of the Rings, through modern masterpieces like The Name of the Wind. Mercifully, Chase won’t make readers wait long for the next two volumes of his Edan Trilogy, which will be published later this year.

5/5

Read The Way of Edan by Philip Chase

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REVIEW: The Last Kingdom: Seven Kings Must Die

The tale of Uhtred of Bebbanburg as told through the brilliant five seasons available on Netflix comes to an end in a feature length production – The Last Kingdom: Seven Kings Must Die. The film begins with the death of a king and the titular prophecy as the adaptation of Bernard Cornwell’s excellent The Saxon Chronicles set in the bloody Saxon era of Britain finishes strongly. There’s Vikings, Saxons, torture, and death. Destiny is all!

The events open with the death of King Edward. As always with The Last Kingdom, such events lead to a period of instability with various factions vying for power. Through it all, it seems as though the one person who can unite people in the heat of battle is the Saxon-born, Viking-raised, cool bastard who introduces himself as Uhtred son of Uhtred. Uhtred (Alexander Dreymon) is weary of battle and there is a wisdom that has come with age and a life of making mistakes as well as watching others make them too. He tries to advise a young King Aethelstan to ensure that England can be united but the young king is swayed by another and his actions lead to the deaths of many and a dangerous alliance of clans from the regions surrounding the old English kingdoms. The kings join together on a battlefield, setting the scene an almighty event that you expect with a title like The Last Kingdom: Seven Kings Must Die.

The Last Kingdom started as a series on BBC but when the production was picked up by Netflix in series three, things really improved and whilst the show isn’t on par with the likes of HBO’s House of the Dragon, the direction, music, and costume design all come together to create scenes that are visceral and alive. The practical, realistic battles feel more akin to Lord of the Rings style of battle than the CGI efforts offered by the likes of The Hobbit and The Rings of Power and is a reminder of the quality seen in some of the best moments of Game of Thrones. There is a familiarity to some of the beats of the battle but this can be forgiven – fans of the show will know what to expect and it is easy to get caught up in the brilliance of seeing Uhtred fight his way through wounds and almost certain death to defend yet another foolish king.

There is a load to pack into the almost two-hour running time and I did find myself looking back and wishing that the events had been spread across one final season, something that the show had perfected already. It still finds time to discuss the futility of war and battles as well as the continuing theme of destiny and choice that has followed Uhtred like dark ravens throughout the series. One of my favourite things about The Last Kingdom has been the idea that friendship is stronger than religion, culture, nationality, and even family at times. Uhtred builds strong bonds through his actions and this inspires others to unite even against overwhelming odds. That’s a pretty special message and one that I think is needed now more than ever.

The Last Kingdom: Seven Kings Must Die probably would have worked better as a series but it gets stronger as it goes along. The bloody tale of friendship, traitors, love, death, and the idea of a nation closes in fitting style that fans of old and newcomers will be able to enjoy. This is grimdark with a historical heart and I’ve enjoyed every moment of it. Hopefully, its success will lead to adaptations of similar stories such as those by Matthew Harffy, as I am thirsting for more. Destiny is all!

 

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