Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Something Spectacular

We'd all like to think were going places. Whether it be to fame, to fortune, to the Moon, to Canada, or even just to the Walmart down the road. Baby steps right? As more and more opportunities present themselves in my life, the more I wonder what the fuck is happening. Things don't happen the way you want them to. Even the good things. There are no reasons. So just stop. Everything is unexpected, as it should be.
Life doesn't present itself to you. It isn't trying to fucking impress you. It's not going to knock on your door and say, "What up Jax, I got a surprise for you. Here's a miracle. You're welcome." No, you've gotta fucking work for things. I've gotten off easy before. I think we all have. But that doesn't shape me as a person. That time I skipped school so I could avoid being the nerd for a day didn't help me at all. How about the time I called out of work because I just didn't feel like dealing it? Well thanks 17 year old Jacquie, I'm about $50 short because of you.
This took me a long time to realize. For a long time I thought I was owed things. I thought that someone somewhere should be pulling some strings for all the shit I've had to put up with. Like my 20 years of life was somehow so difficult and tormenting. As if people didn't experience heartbreaks and death and depression all the time. Like I was somehow special and deserved more. I don't know if maturity had anything to do with it or if I just finally snapped out of it. But it doesn't really matter. I'm here now. And there's no way I can go back. I wouldn't want to.
I often work 10 hour days. Often, so I can take 3 classes. I often cancel plans with friends so I can go home just to record and edit a video. Often, so I can go home on break the next day and upload said video to the internet. Where it often gets lost in the abyss. I am often up at very late hours of the night. Often, drawing or writing. Often, to forget about it all. Often, feeling unbearably lonely. I often wonder if there are enough hours in the days. Usually to just cancel more plans to make more hours. Mostly just to shut out the world. Always to wake up to something beautiful. The next challenge. The next opportunity if you will. This is a happy ending. I promise you.
There's no way to stress it enough. Work hard. Work so hard you feel like you could collapse at any second. Make people wonder how you do it. And while their sitting there wondering, tell them your goals. Tell them your dreams. Tell them... you're gonna fucking make it even if it kills you. Tell them you'd actually rather die trying than slow down, because it will make it that much more worth it. Then disappear one day. Don't say any goodbyes. Don't brag. Just finish your journey. This is a beautiful journey. I promise you.

Monday, November 11, 2013

Cry of Fear Review: Holy Shit, I'm Fucking Terrified!

When starting Cry of Fear I wasn't sure what to expect. I knew nothing about the game aside from it being classified as horror. Except they shouldn't classify it as "horror". No. They should classify it as, "Holy shit, I'm fucking terrified right now, someone help me please, I don't want to play anymore."
Okay, okay... maybe I'm over exaggerating a bit. Except at the time, when I was actually playing the game, those were some of the thoughts that were going on in my head.
So meet Simon. Just your average teenager. He's depressed. He likes a girl that doesn't like him back. He's ignoring his mother. And oh yeah, he sees terrifying demon zombies. This isn't a new concept in horror games. In fact, just about every horror game has the same story line. Except Cry of Fear got it right.
In the first 10-30 minutes (depending on how long it takes you to get through a fucking window in my case) there is the gnarliest of jump scares I've ever experienced. I screamed so loud I was actually worried about my neighbors calling the cops; thinking that I was being brutally murdered or something. That was the moment I knew this game couldn't be trusted.
From that point on it didn't get any easier to control the screams. Or the sweaty palms. I was beside myself at some moments playing this game. Telling myself, "it's only a game. It will be alright." Telling myself this of course did no good. It's like someone on acid trying to convince himself that he isn't on acid. It's just not going to work. He's still going to be on acid no matter how many times he tells himself he isn't. Just like this game is going to be horrid no matter how many times I tell myself it's just a game.
After much thought I'm pretty sure I finally figured out what makes it so horrifying. Most horror games have a rhythm to them. After awhile you start to figure it out. Then once you do, you can turn corners and open doors and know exactly what is coming for you. Not Cry of Fear. When I said earlier that they got it right I wasn't just saying that. As soon as I got comfortable with one monster they either brought in a new one or switched. As soon as I thought, "there can't possibly be anything creepier than a zombie with spikes as arms and legs," there in the distance were zombies shooting at me. That's exactly what I need in my life! Zombies fucking shooting at me! As if I wasn't already worried about the zombies crawling on the floor with knifes.
Then once I was introduced to every zombie they had to offer, I get put in a damn maze. A maze with blood stained walls and no hope on where to go. I don't think I actually knew what, "I'll wing it," meant until that moment. And there wasn't just one blood stained wall maze. There were multiple.
Then there's the music. Every note made me cringe. Numerous times (especially during boss fights) I actually turned off the volume in my headset just so I could have more focus because the music was getting to me. Not the zombies. The music.
As far as the story line goes, great job guys. Not many horror games keep me entertained in the story. Maybe my attention span in too short because there seems to always be too much reading in horror games. Or maybe I can't read. Either way, my focus isn't usually on the story. However, Team Psykskallar pulled off a story that kept my attention. They only managed to loose me once. This moment was when Simon and Sophie were having their moment on the roof. I don't know... I'm not much of a sap so I didn't care for it. But I get why it was important.
Moving on.
Overall, wonderful game. My perspective on games (indie horror specifically) has changed after playing Cry of Fear. I say that as a good thing. My expectations are now raised. I may still scream like a little bitch druing jumpscares, but I now know what it takes to make it through your silly game. So bring it on horror games!

To see me play Cry of Fear and scream like the girl that I am check out my playlist:

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Magical Marshmallow God

I pride myself on my ability to not deal with stupid human emotions. I don't mean in the "bury it deep down inside until one day it erupts into a Hellish nightmare" kind of way; but in a "I accept the fact that this happened and I am going to continue forward" kind of way.
But my mind has been difficult tonight. I try not to think about him. Ever. He's the only thought that can truly make me spiral into complete insanity if I don't grasp my reality at some point in the downfall.
Most of us have lost someone to that Death asshole before. The point isn't for you to know about the person who is gone. It's about how fucking annoying it is to know you'll never get whats going on. Selfishness.
When I think about him that's what is usually going on up there in my stupid brain. I don't need to reminisce on the "good times". If you love someone enough the good times won't disappear when they do. I don't need to think about what he could be doing right now. I know what he'd be doing. He'd be sitting his happy ass on a beach chair in Key West with a beer and possibly a doobie, checking out every guy that walked by. The man knew how to live. He did it right. I don't even care what he would say to me if he was sitting right here in front of me. I know him all too well. He'd most likely slap me in the dumb face for making certain things hold me back from my art while he's been gone. And then he would call me Jacqueline. And I would roll my eyes because I hated that he loved the name so much. None of those thoughts matter. I know all the outcomes already.
I just think if I was somehow able to justify it, it wouldn't be so bad. Like if I actually believe people when they tell me, "he's in a better place now." Because that's suppose to work right? Like, it's suppose to make people feel better about the situation. As if said dead person is floating on fluffy marshmallows in the Heavens in the hands of an all mighty magical being makes total sense. That's how they say it. That doesn't do me any fucking good. If it did, I'd totally be chilling over there instead of dealing with this life thing I've been doing.
I realize that about 95% of you believe in things I'll never fully give a shit about. And that's 100% okay. No one needs to agree here. These are my thoughts. Not yours. I'd love to have a reason to get it. Sitting there, believing in stuff. It sounds fabulous. At least I'd be able to come up with some excuse about whats going on. I mean, my best answer is, "no fucking clue."
I'm not sure why I picked now to give a shit about expressing any of this. It's really none of your business. You probably don't care. That's fine. For those that do care, I thank you and appreciate it. I don't however need you to make me feel better or pray or do whatever it is that you do. That's the entire point of this I guess. I accept the fact that this happened and I am going to continue forward.