Yearly Archives: 2003

Through rain and sleet and sold-out premieres

  • Reading time:6 mins read

Well. That was better. Actually, I think this is the only one of the three theatrical cuts which felt satisfactory as-was.

I notice that each movie has a completely different feel to its direction — this, despite the fact that they were all done at once. It must be in the editing; each movie was edited by a different person. The guy behind the second movie was an old fellow who had edited lots of movies, going back decades. The first and third movies were edited more specifically by people close to Peter Jackson. And the editing was far better here.

Whereas every cut in The Two Towers felt like it propelled me into another universe, this one flows. And there is enough cross-reference that one is never for want for relative context between the story threads. It fits together in such a way that it persists as one coherent, intense hunk-o-movie, and only seems awkward when Sean Astin is in the frame. Well, that and some of the Smeagol sequence at the very beginning. (What’s with the close-ups?) Overall, Gollum is far less annoying than before; I do give that. The toothy bit in the opening is kind of weird, though.

I like the end credits.

King Theoden strikes me as the most interesting characer in this movie. He is to Return of the King what Boromir is to Fellowship of the Ring. If you follow. Meanwhile, Aragorn has hardly a larger role than Faramir. Curious.

Is it just me, or is this movie an awful lot more violent than the first two combined? Stranglings; whackings-over-the-head with huge, pointy rocks; huge, meaty punches in the face; impalements… Some people have complained about the scene where Gandalf beats the hell out of Denethor, with his staff. It amused me.

This following bit I typed up before I left:

Actually, Now that I’ve reread the books for the first time in a decade, I’m able to better appreciate Jackson’s choices in adapting The Two Towers. As is often the case, everyone in the universe except — apparently — me is exactly backwards on this matter. It’s not that bad an adaptation for its part — at least, not in the detail. Not on a surface level. Even the big changes (Elves in Rohan; Aragorn’s cliff-diving; Faramir’s delayed decision-making) aren’t that huge a divergence.

That does not, however, make it fulfilling cinema.

Still. The choices are easy to understand.

  • In the book, Faramir doesn’t even have to think about his response to Frodo (although he does spend an awfully long time toying with him and Sam, in attempt to squeeze information out of them). In the movie, Faramir puts off any decision until he has time to find the answer on his own.
  • In the book, a group of previously-unestablished Dunedain rangers appears in the aftermath of Helm’s Deep. The explanation is that Elrond sent them, because of a message from Galadriel. Galadriel knew to send them because Aragorn had wished to see them, and she had read Aragorn’s mind from a distance. (?!) At this revelation, Gimli is amazed with Galadriel’s powers, and wishes that he and Legolas had asked for some of their own kin instead. Legolas seems sad and agrees that would be nice — but he doubts the Elves would have come even if he had thought to wish it. In the movie, Elrond merely asks Galadriel to send a company of Elves (who were, unlike the rangers, previously established). And they arrive in time to help at Helm’s Deep, rather than five minutes later. Wish fulfilled.
  • The Warg/Aragorn sequence was a mistake, yes — and yet not without basis. Warg riders are referenced at least twice during that very sequence of the book, as they were an apparent menace to other parts of Rohan at that moment. While the Aragorn/cliff element is of debatable cinematic value and integrity, it’s no stretch to bring the Wargs a couple of leagues closer and have them meet the party for such a scuffle.

And. Well, so on. All of that is fine for what it is. In many places, the adaptation clarifies and enhances the overt plot events of the book with almost as much cleverness and skill as displayed in Fellowship. It’s just the movie that doesn’t work, for reasons cited below and elsewhere.

The third one does work, though. And — this is interesting — in tone, it actually feels kind of like the second movie never occurred. Aside from the few characters introduced there, it might as well not have — further enhancing its Twilight Zone quality. It’s like the movie was on pause for three and a half hours, and now it’s all alive again.

Character threads introduced during Fellowship, then dropped in the next film, have been resumed here. (Pippin is an idiot!) Constant references are made to earlier events, particularly those in the first movie. (Watch for the moth!) We’ve got thematic focus again. Heck, King even reclaims that horror movie edge that the first movie had (and it’s gotten grizzlier). Also like the first, yet unlike the second movie, it feels polished and self-contained; you could easily watch King without seeing either of the other two, and feel like you’ve seen something complete and substantial.

And golly, there’s a lot of singing. Well-used, at that.

On a single viewing, it seems not quite as good as (the extended version of) Fellowship. A fine line, yes; yet it’s there. King feels forced in a few places (particularly toward the end), and Sean Astin both can’t act and is given some of the most important scenes. Not as personal. Not as much texture. Nearly, though. It’s in the same league. And it’s satisfying in a different way. It feels grand. Perhaps the extended version will raise it up an extra notch. It almost doesn’t need the enhancement, though. I wonder.

I think the extended version will have to use a few alternate takes. I kind of like how the movie manages to sidestep Saruman. It’s an elegant dance, except for the confusing detail of the location of the Palantir. Offhand, it looks like the movie will need a different edit altogether in order to shoehorn Christopher Lee (and/or Brad Douriff) into that scene. (It will be easier to give them their Alan Lee portraits in the ending sequence.)

Really, I don’t understand how people can stand up and leave during a credit sequence like this. What’s wrong with everyone? There was nobody left in the theater when the credits were over. The cleaning crews were getting impatient for me to leave. Pah, multiplexes.

Trivia note: Sam’s daughter is apparently played by Sean’s daughter.

Everyone does (what Nintendon’t!)

  • Reading time:3 mins read

What Nintendo really needs to do is pay more attention to third parties. The current impression in the development community — and it’s been this case almost since the beginning — is that it’s kind of a waste of money and effort to pay too much attention to Nintendo’s box. Sony has the marketshare, so put all of your money on Sony and you don’t have to think; you don’t have to worry.

Nintendo needs to conduct some psychology experiments. Figure out what it’ll take to change that impression — to give third-part developers confidence that they’ll be on at least an equal level with Sony, that there aren’t any demographic problems, that Nintendo intends to listen to and to help developers even more than Sony will. Lower licencing fees. Get a few key secret blockbuster third-party games contracted for launch — and get all of this ready before they unveil their next system.

Then they have to go to the public — convince them that Sony is the old guard, and is no longer hip. Go a bit more in-your-face about Sony’s weak spots (the fact that their systems break if you breathe on them, for instance). Make people think “hey, they’re right. Sony’s become kind of boring now. Maybe I’ve been missing something over here…” Position themselves as the mythological kings of old, revitalized, reborn, and ready to reclaim their throne from those who have been keeping it warm for the last decade or so.

This is what has to be done, in a nutshell. People won’t care enough otherwise, to make a huge difference over the performance of the previous two consoles. If Nintendo doesn’t have the constant and substantial software support, and if they’re still seen as kind of dismissable and fuddy-duddy by the mainstream, they’ll not be in a good position.

It’s all about relations; public and private. Nintendo doesn’t like to talk to people. They need to change that, fast. Make everyone really, REALLY believe that they’ve got a winner this time — as Sega did during the first few months of the Dreamcast. Only more so. And keep that momentum. Don’t let go. They need to pace themselves, and plan ahead to always have a next card to slap into place. Make sure the public and press never come too far off the launch high. Don’t just make it, then lean back and expect things will work out (as Nintendo has been wont to do). That people and games will come. It won’t. They won’t.

Another thing that’s important is to beware of potential sabotage from Sony. Try to anticipate what weird tricks they might pull, and build in some safeguards. Always have something better stashed away, to counter a weird claim from the other side.

So I guess there are two themes. Communication and planning.

If they can accomplish all of the above, Nintendo will have a winner. In theory they have got more weight and substance as a videogame company; if they’re just smart enough to bend and use that fact in a comparative, qualitative sense — and if they’ve enough developers on their side to back it up with — people will be attracted.

Tippi Hedren was a Swede

  • Reading time:1 mins read

For the second time in a month, I have been mistaken for a lady. The first time might have been understandable, as it was the long way across a trolley car. Today it was at point-blank range.

I don’t get out much. I can’t help wonder if this indicates a trend. People often assume I’m gay, or an artist. Often they assume I’m British. Or Danish, or Dutch, or German. Men seem suspicious of me; often women seem protective. Am I becoming more feminine? Maybe it’s just a coincidence.

Today also I confused a waitress, just as the meteorologists predict the first big snowstorm of the year. I can’t say I blame it, or them; it seems the perfect night. The house creaks. The outside world sounds like a morose beast, angry at the light that seeps through the curtains. As I peer, the lake churls outside my window. I felt compelled to lock the doors for the first time in a while; just one of those premonitions that never lead anywhere.

If I had a story to tell, this would be about the right paragraph to come to the point.

Relativity

  • Reading time:3 mins read

With (what appears to be) the untimely return of Geese, it occurs to me that the best way to illustrate the SNK universe is to use a number of parallel timelines. They often cross-reference each other, to the extent that the events in any one probably are reflected elsewhere — yet they aren’t necessarily equal in all cases.

It’s clear that KoF, FF/AoF/Buriki, Kizuna, and Last Blade all take place in a wide interrelated universe. It is implied in a number of places that Samurai Spirits is part of the same universe, even though it doesn’t much affect anything outside itself. (Nor does Last Blade, really, aside from the fact that one of the characters is supposed to be related to Eiji.) And yet — as some people have observed in the past — the series are not always compatible. And it’s getting to the point where one can’t easily just chalk it down to revisions, retcons, and errors. Perhaps it’s best to think of this universe as comprised of many threads wound together, that happen to touch in many places.

So if one were to make a coherent SNK timeline, one would perhaps do well to have — for example — a certain colour-coding scheme. For all practical purposes, one may assume that events outside of a certain colour label probably happened in the others, as long as there are no conflicts — and yet this is not necessarily the case. This allows a loose-tied, undefined ongoing continuity and prevents battles over issues such as the apparent revision of the Art of Fighting timeframe for the sake of King of Fighters.

Anything outside of a given series, one can either ignore or assume is present in at least some form — if not precisely the one specified — depending on the circumstance.

So in the King of Fighters continuity, it appears that the events of Real Bout never occurred — at least, as things stand now. Even in the Fatal Fury continuity, Real Bout Special and RB2 never occurred — yet some of the characters introduced there appear elsewhere (like during the NESTS saga). And yet something comparable to Fatal Fury 1, 2, and 3 must have occurred — and it looks like Mark of the Wolves is probably supposed to occur in some form.

What makes this all a little weird is that MotW is supposed to take place in New South Town — which, one would presume, would have been constructed after South Town was destroyed (at least in part) in KoF2000. Yet in 2003 (from what little has been revealed), the old South Town appears to be just fine — Geese and all. Maybe each KoF era needs its own colour code, as there are other weird continuity issues to distinguish the three plot arcs so far. Still, up until 2003, things tended to fit pretty well without much qualification — AoF aside.

Hmm…

This is all an exercise in organization, note. It does not pay to be too literal with things of this sort.

Post-production

  • Reading time:2 mins read

You know, the DVD format has its uses.

I think much of the trouble in Jackson’s The Two Towers lies in the editing. There are any number of ways this film could have been assembled. He chose a distracting one. If you isolate the two major story threads, they each flow well (aside from that endless elfy flashback sequence). As the film is assembled, however, they keep interrupting each other.

Following the structure of the original book, it seems to work best to put the Aragorn/Gimli/Legolas/Merry/Pippin material first, then to switch to Frodo and Sam. The question is when to do this. It would be more than a little weird to wait until the end of the one plot, then to rewind and start the other.There is a built-in cutaway point, however, in the Aragorn plot. In a scene in the extended version, Aragorn sits outside of Fangorn while Gandalf discusses the plot. The scene ends with the two of them talking about Frodo and Sam. Then — in this version — we cut away to maybe the second or third Sam/Frodo sequence.

Why not just wait until then to start their major story? It’s a perfect cue. Aragorn tells Gandalf that Frodo has Sam with him. Gandalf is pleased. So let’s see what Frodo and Sam are up to.

The Gandalf sequence at the start is still a good device. It’s just, cut away to the first Merry and Pippin scene after Frodo realizes that it was only a dream and lies back down. Then I suppose it works to cut away again, when Frodo and Sam first meet Faramir. Finish the first plot, then do the last hunk of the Frodo/Sam plot. (There’s not much left, after that point.) And get rid of that big elfy flashback. And. The movie might actually flow, as a coherent unit.

Hmm… I bet there’s a program feature in here somewhere…

EDIT: This thought train is continued here.

Islands in the Night

  • Reading time:1 mins read

Just as I prefer warmth against cold over warmth for its own sake, I believe that I prefer light against darkness over light for its own sake. One lamp in the living room, lit for the sake of reading; one lamp above the stove in the kitchen, through the doorway on my right, to give depth to the world. Two islands in the night. I am safe where I am. If I wish to move, I have a destination. I can connect the dots on my own.

In the same vein, it is easier to drive at night. Headlights create their constant island before me, drawing me onward into the only world that exists; the only possible desination. Safety is always just ahead, and that’s where I’m headed.

Anything else is overstimulation. Excess. It’s too much. It has no curve. Light has no meaning unless there is something to be lit. Warmth has no meaning unless there is someone to be warmed. Everything needs context, or else it is merely noise.

And then there is sound.

A chance for Jackson, director of Hobbits, to prove his quality

  • Reading time:2 mins read

Here’s a clear example of the character illustration that has been re-implemented in the extended version of the movie.

In a flashback, Faramir remembers a meeting with his brother Boromir and his father Denethor. Denethor dismisses and insults Faramir a bit, then assigns Boromir the task to ride to Rivendell and claim the One Ring for Gondor. Boromir is crushed. Faramir offers to ride in Boromir’s place, as it is clear that Boromir would prefer to stay with his people. Denethor scoffs. “A chance for Faramir, captain of Gondor, to prove his quality?” He mocks Faramir some more, then sends Boromir on his way.

Some time later, Faramir realizes that Frodo has the Ring. He confronts Frodo, and pulls the ring from under Frodo’s vest with the tip of his sword. He stares, transfixed. “A chance for Faramir, captain of Gondor, to prove his quality…” Frodo freaks out and runs off into the corner, as Faramir stares on, perplexed.

Later, after Faramir puts the pieces together and decides to let Frodo go (at his own risk), Sam thanks Faramir and comments that he has “proved his quality”.

So. We’ve a character arc here. The entire episode was structured as a test, for Faramir. And, in the end, he passed it. He just needed to work a few things out first — like, for instance, what about him was being tested.

The first and the third mention are absent in the theatrical cut. We’re just left the middle bit, where Faramir prods Frodo with his sword. We’ve no context for why he does this, or why he decides to let Frodo go. We just have actions, without meaning.

This principle can be extended throughout most of the movie. The extended version still has some problems, and not all of them are of this nature. As I said before, I don’t think the movie can be fixed. Not entirely. Still, it’s a little better.

EDIT: I continue this thought train here.

Great Ex-Spectorations

  • Reading time:3 mins read

So I’ve got a copy of Let It Be… Naked, now.

And. It sounds good. There are the obvious tracks like “The Long and Winding Road”. Yes, yes. What impresses me more is the difference in sound quality and general engineering decisions with pieces like “I’ve Got a Feeling”. What a difference dynamic range and tonal saturation can make.

Hell. Did you know there was an organ in the background? In theory, it sustains most of the tension while Paul goes all Helter Skelter on top of it. In Phil Spector’s version, it’s not there! Well, barely. Now that I’m listening for it I can hear its faint buzz, way in the back. It almost sounds more like feedback than an instrumental voice.

Similarly, the opening chord — at first glance, it sounds like the top note is entirely different. I thought the new mix must run at a different tape speed (as with “Across the Universe”). No; it’s just that Spector was a dumbass and cut off almost the entire upper end of the spectrum. That’s why the entire album sounds like it’s being played from inside a tin can.

Well, that’s repaired. Forgotten details (like backing vocals) have been brought back to the foreground and balanced properly. We’ve got intelligent stereo separation. All of the meaningless, cute banter has been stripped away and (where it seemed salvageable) thrown onto disc two.

The effect is that this indeed does sound like a live (and often accoustic) performance — in comparison to some ancient, faded, muddy artifact dug out of a deep hole and dressed up with a string arrangement. It’s got warmth. And. The songs have some impact that they didn’t have before. Heck, now I understand what the guitars are doing. In many cases, they were an inpenetrable fog. It seems there is, however, musicianship at work. How interesting!

And yes, “The Long and Winding Road” has become listenable. Now I might not skip it. Not every time.

Consider this: George’s picture on the front isn’t as frightening anymore. I think that says… well, what does it say? Before he leered at John with inhuman teeth. Now he looks depressed. I suppose you could call that an improvement. I’d try to relate it to the fact that the man is dead, if it weren’t that I just watched him play Pac-Man not much over six months ago.

On another note, here’s a quote from the inside of the traycard:

Thank you for buying this music and for supporting the artists, songwriters, musicians, and nothers who’ve created it and made it possible.

Please remember that this recording and artwork are protected by copyright law. Since you don’t own the copyright, it’s not yours to distribute. Please don’t use Internet services that promote the illegal distribution of copyrighted music, give away illegal copies of discs or lend discs to others for copying. It’s hurting the artists who created the music. It has the same effect as stealing a disc from a store without paying for it.

Well! That’s a different tactic.

EDIT: I like the last paragraph here.

Attack Patterns

  • Reading time:1 mins read

A couple of observations.

The “Mars People” from the Metal Slug series strongly resemble the top-row aliens (second from the bottom, here) in Space Invaders. This doesn’t seem like a coincidence to me.

Samus Aran’s space ship, from the Metroid series, bears a close resemblance to the enemy ships in Radar Scope — the early Space Invaders clone from Nintendo (which flopped and was later reworked into Donkey Kong). This is probably a coincidence. Maybe, however, not!

EDIT: HA HA

“‘Warners is afraid that Revolutions won’t sell very well because of the word of mouth on the movie. The only way to make the money on sell-through is to package it with the other two.’ The retailer went on to say that the number of requests for the film have dropped significantly since the film’s opening day.“

Wait for the Special Revised Edition, perhaps?

  • Reading time:2 mins read

Sounds like even still, The Two Towers is kind of messed-up. It continues to lack its ending sequence. I wondered why Peter Jackson chose to save the last bit of wrapup with Saruman for the third movie, unless it was just to have Chrisopher Lee’s name in the credits (as with the weird Arwen scenes in the second film).

But. Here’s the sequence:

The conclusion at Isengard was chopped out of the theatrical release because the theatrical release was a rough hack kept together with bailing wire anyway, and that scene made the movie too long for New Line to like it. (You might notice how disconcertingly aprupt the movie’s end happens to be.) So, Peter Jackson figured he’d just splice this sequence into the beginning of RotK.

Since up until just this past week or so he still assumed he was going to do this, the proper ending isn’t in the extended version of TTT. It has now occurred to Peter Jackson that it’s kind of odd to have this leftover business at the outset of the third film, so as a result he’s excised it from the theatrical version of RotK — as lengthy as this cut might be.

And now also as a result, the ending to The Two Towers won’t be seen until the extended version of Return of the King — two full years after the film’s original release.

Yikes.

He really needs to go back through and edit these films a third and final time, when he’s no longer under pressure. I know he intends to. It’s just. Maybe that’ll be the proverbial charm for the middle film. Include everything that needs to be in there. Remove or rework the pointless bits. And just redo the cross-cutting from scratch.

From this distance, it sounds and looks like the third film will be more akin to the quality of the first. As well it should, given the comparably ample time he’s had this time around. (One wonders whether New Line will be able to drag him out for the months of Oscar schmoozing nonsense this year. One wonders if it’s necessary.)

EDIT!

I (kind of) like this review.

EDIT MORE OOG!

This one, meanwhile, fails on more than two levels.

EDIT AGAIN!

Although it fawns, this impresses me in its particular way. (I got used to the affectations by the end.)

Chasing Harry Lime

  • Reading time:3 mins read

This piece does not a bad job of summing up my attitude toward… things. Videogames, sure. The last paragraph in particular illustrates why I’m baffled at the animosity often directed toward critics. And the better they do their job, it seems the more they’re resented.

Then, I guess my experience in school should have prepared me for people’s reactions when you begin to ask questions.

This summer I witnessed, in the Gaming Age forums, a person’s hate-drenched response to Insert Credit‘s big videogame journalism article. This fellow claimed to be involved with game development. He went on about how vile and useless critics were. What do they know. They don’t make the games. (I should note here that some of the best filmmakers, poets, and musicians have also been influential critics in their day.) I decided that I never want to play a game made by this person. It was clear to me that he didn’t have much interest in communicating.

Which makes me wonder why he ever got involved in the videogame business. Perhaps because he wanted to Make Videogames, without really understanding what that means. Perhaps he became dazzled with, and ego-attached to, the idea of Being a game developer. Or he came to worship the games themselves.

This is compared to… well. Because he felt he had something to say, and this seemed a good way to express himself.

If the latter were the case, he’d want intelligent criticism. He’d want interaction. He’d want to see if his message got across — and if not, what the alternate interpretations might be.

If the former were the case, he wouldn’t. Because he’d be afraid that his world would shatter.

It sounds to me like he’s in the wrong profession, if it causes him that kind of insecurity. And again, what kind of a game would a guy like this make?

I received a puzzled email not long ago, in reference to a passing comment in an old entry of mine. I’d mentioned that we could do without any more people making videogames who want to Make Videogames. I suppose the above is a part of what I meant.

It doesn’t stop with videogames, of course. Artists, writers, politicians… really, anything that a person might do with himself. I suppose this — the motivation to Be Things through doing — is all a side effect of our goal-oriented society. And perhaps, to some extent, of that perennial whipping boy, The Media. (Hey, I’ve got to throw it in somewhere.) If you’re not somebody, you’re nobody. Just ask your grandmother who wanted you to grow up and be a famous lawyer or a rich doctor or the President. Just look to all of the people who’ve asked you what you want to be when you grow up. And to all of the people who look at you with a puzzled expression whenever you choose to study something without a direct practical application.

Hell, I need to go to sleep.

The Public Mind

  • Reading time:1 mins read

Not long ago, the fans were screaming and retching over Nona‘s art. They demanded that Playmore use any more familiar and palatable else. Now SNK has hired Falcoon, the fan favorite. And now people are starting to murmur how “normal” Falcoon’s art looks in comparison, and how they prefer Nona even if his style is kind of weird.

Sheesh.

Mass opinion is an odd and fickle creature.

I think I’m beginning to appreciate silent film more than spoken. In a sense, it takes more skill to tell a compelling story with nothing but pictures. And in so doing, you’ve achieved pure cinema. Once dialogue comes into the picture, you begin to cross media with theater. Acting tends to become more staid. Visuals aren’t as important anymore. Everything starts to bland out a bit.

Perhaps the reason Hitchcock was so good with imagery in his later pictures is tied to his background in silent film. His early stuff, as a whole, isn’t great. Still, what you learn early on tends to stick with you and influence you for the rest of your life.

Around the cluck

  • Reading time:1 mins read

Wow. It’s only quarter of ten?

Playing Billy Hatcher sure makes time pass slowly.

Askew

  • Reading time:2 mins read

I just realized that most artists only really have one thing to say. If that. Everything they do is just a refinement of, or another aspect of, that single contribution that they have (that being their own selves).

I suppose this should be obvious. We’re all individuals. The more rounded individuals, perhaps, have more corners of their minds to lay bare.

All the same: Miyamoto has never really varied since his original ideas for Donkey Kong and Mario Bros. Those added up into Super Mario Bros., and then Miyamoto took things a step further to hit upon The Legend of Zelda. Since 1987, it’s all just been refinement. He doesn’t have much to say that we haven’t already heard.

Same goes for Rieko Kodama, really (as much as I enjoy her work). She’s still kind of working with the tools she devised a decade and a half ago. BioWare did a lot with their first RPG, but they haven’t done a lot since then.

Hitchcock kept whacking out variations on the same two or three themes. Most of his work involved finding people he enjoyed and allowing them to do whatever they wanted within his vague descriptions. The Beatles had a lot to say by the end, but that comes from the chemistry of five key voices (including George Martin) and all of their experiences.

Miyamoto did his part. He’s done now. Hitchcock did his part. So is he. So are the Beatles. (Really, what of great merit have any of them done since the early ’70s?) They’ve each come out of nowhere with a new perspective and pointed out untapped possibilities within their own respective contexts. And in so doing, they’ve helped the context change.

And the world keeps moving. If they don’t, they’re left as a noble milestone; as a reminder of the need for perspective. Not as a template, however. Anything else is idolatry.

And that’s where all of the problems lie.

I’ve got a headache.

I Can See Your Moves

  • Reading time:5 mins read

I’ve just replayed ’96, and I’ve got to say that it’s the most intriguing in the series aside from 2001. It’s where everything came together right, for the first time. And SNK had to revise just about everything they’d established in ’94 and ’95 in order to make the game.

It makes me wish all the more that 2002 had been a concluding plot chapter for the NESTS era, as it rightfully should have been. The pattern would be complete, then.

’99 established the new gameplay system, with the strikers and all. It was nice and original, and a good idea. 2000 was almost the exact same game (as ’95 was to ’94), only with the rough spots polished away. Just as ’96 revolutionized the early series, 2001 revolutionized the later series. ’97 took what was established in ’96 and didn’t add much to it in terms of gameplay — but rather expanded it and used it as the backing mechanics for an orgy of plot exposition and drama.

Then ’98 — the first dream match — was almost the same game as ’97 (just compare the selection screens of the two!), only with an extra nine characters (every left-over non-boss character from ’94-’96 aside from Eiji), “classic” versions of most of the main characters (with their pre-’96 move lists), and a bunch of extra animations and interactions and energy added in.

That makes ’98 more or less “’97 DX”, in its structure. And at the same time, it’s a kind of a compilation of everything KoF up until that time. Not unlike the upcoming Street Fighter II compilation for the PS2. Aside from all of the characters and character versions above, it also has both major game systems up to that point (“Advanced” and “Extra” — which correspond to the pre-’96 and post-’95 engines). Basically, however you like your (pre-NESTS) KoF, ’98 has it. All it lacks is plot. But it’s got extra heaps of charm to make up for the loss (if you’re familiar with the characters).

That could have been the case with 2003, for the series’ tenth anniversary. 2002 would have put to use the refined system introduced in 2001, and cleanly finished off that plot arc. 2003 would have been the ultimate KoF dream match, covering the whole history of KoF — or at least everything that’s happened since ’98. Every major non-boss character. Every major game system. At least two distinct move lists for most of the major characters.

Then 2004 — the first Atomiswave game — could be the start of the next plotline. A nice clean beginning, on new hardware.

But, no.

Anyway. To illustrate, the pattern goes more or less like this:

[1a] [1b] [2a] [2b] [x] [1a] [1b] [2a] … [x]
’94 ’95 ’96 ’97 ’98 ’99 ’00 ’01 n/a ’02

[1a] defines a new game system. It’s a rough draft. A little awkward. A few obvious problems to work out. Still, by virtue of its new ideas it’s got some energy and life to it.

[1b] is the refinement of that system. It’s the edited version, more or less. Most of the overt kinks have been knocked out. Problem is, it’s almost the same as the previous game. The game is nice, but one is left waiting for the point.

[2a] is the second draft. This is a total overhaul of the system introduced two games earlier. While the previous game was merely a revision, the goal of which was to fix the obvious problems in the first incarnation of the game system, this game scraps the earlier system altogether and rephrases the original ideas in a far more elegant form. This is more or less what they tried to do two games earlier, but hadn’t quite figured out how to express yet.

[2b] is to [2a] as [1b] is to [1a]. More or less. Now that they’ve finally got the system down, they don’t really have to think about it anymore and can just use it to tell an interesting story.

[x] is where we clear out the closet. Tally what’s been accomplished so far, while we figure out what to do next.

The NESTS saga never really got either a [2b] or an [x]. And it needed both, in order to work satisfactorily. Instead, it got abbreviated by a train wreck.

As you can both gather and imagine anyway, it’s the “a” chapters which do more for me. Especially the revised ones, where SNK (or Eolith/Brezza) figured out what they wanted to say. The “b” ones tend to bore me a little (particularly the “a” ones), since they’re creative resting periods. It’s all just futzing. And honestly, polish tends to annoy me. I like things rough; it leaves the character in. EDIT: (Of course, some things manage to combine both roughness and polish at the same time! HOW CAN YOU LOSE!)

Hell. I might as well post this, while I’m here.