the casual critic

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#videogames #SF

Warning: Contains Spoilers

At the conclusion of Mass Effect 1 we foiled the plan of the Reapers, sentient robot ships bent on eradicating interstellar civilisation, to teleport into the galactic capital and start their murderous rampage. Mass Effect 2 picks up the story shortly after, with our hero Commander Shepard relegated to patrolling the far reaches of space so that galactic politicians can more easily ignore your constant pleas to prepare for the delayed but not averted Reaper attack. No change here from the previous game where all politicians are inept and only the Space Marines™ can be relied upon to save the galaxy.

Though not even the Space Marines, as it turns out. In an unexpected turn of events, Mass Effect 2 kills off the player within the first five minutes, only for Commander Shepard to be resurrected two years later by our old friends Cerberus. Yes, the same human-supremacist, experimenting on live test subjects, rogue-black-ops-gone-terrorist Cerberus we encountered in Mass Effect 1. This setup presents excellent potential to challenge the player through the game’s morality mechanic, but predictably Mass Effect 2 is too timid to exploit it. You can agree with Cerberus’ ‘the end justifies the means’ philosophy or not, you can file your disagreement with their methods or not, the game will unfold as it unfolds. It is morality as aesthetics rather than ethics, and maybe there is a reflection here of a contemporary politics that is equally vacuous and free of stakes.

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#sf #games #fiction

Contains spoilers

In 1992 Francis Fukuyama published his now infamous The End of History and the Last Man, commonly understood to proclaim that with the victory of liberal market democracies, history had run its course and we could all kick back and relax in the knowledge that we lived in the best of all possible worlds. A lot of history has happened since then, and continues to happen. Yet our collective cultural imaginary remains singularly foreshortened, giving rise to the oft-cited observation that it is easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism. In the spirit of Mark Fisher’s Capitalist Realism, we might say that Fukuyama’s book would have been better titled ‘The End of the Future’.

The hegemony of the present and the absence of a plausible alternative future is particularly noticeable in much science fiction. I’m with Ursuala K. le Guin in that good science fiction tells us something about the present, but sadly much of it simply is the present, with added spaceships. Mass Effect, originally released in 2007 but re-released as a remaster in 2021, is a prime example of the latter type of science fiction. I decided to replay it partly for nostalgia, and partly because I never played the third installment of the trilogy.

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Warning: Contains spoilers

#books #SF #fiction

Clarke’s Third Law teaches us that “any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic”, but magic does not necessarily make for a good story. This is the fundamental weakness of Cixin Liu’s Remembrance of Earth’s Past trilogy, which starts with The Three Body Problem. Over the course of three books, Cixin Liu introduces us to a dazzling array of cosmic wonders. Amidst this onslaught of speculative tech, human agency becomes so marginal that the story devolves into a mere mechanism for delivering a steady stream of scientific curios.

I chose to review the series in its totality, so this is a longer post than normal. What follows is a brief overview of each book, followed by a conclusion on the entire series.

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#SF #videogames

It has been a long time since a game has made me cry.

Towards one of the endings of Citizen Sleeper, there is a choice. It is not the common type of ‘moral’ videogame choice that is as subtle as being hit in the head by a careening trolley. It is not a choice about acting, but about being. About what it means to live, to connect, to relate. It does not have a right or wrong answer. It offers a beautiful gift and a profound loss either way you choose. It is a choice that makes the player think, and even now I still don’t know if I chose wisely.

Citizen Sleeper is a game set on Erlin’s Eye, a decrepit and gradually decaying orbital space station, abandoned by its corporate owners and left to fend for itself. You are a Sleeper; a copy of a human mind imprisoned in a cybernetic body. You are not human, because you are an artificial creation. You are not AI, because your mind is a human intelligence. Where you come from, you were property. Where you’ve arrived, you are a fugitive.

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About the author

A long time ago, I had a blog of political polemics. Then life happened and I stopped writing.

Yet the desire to write never went away, and so this blog was born. Of polemics we already have a sufficiency, however. One only has to read a news site. Instead, I am trying my hand at reflections on the cultural artefacts I ‘consume’: books, games, movies, and so forth.

The name of this blog expresses my capacity as an ordinary consumer, and hence merely a ‘casual’ critic. I cannot boast of a degree in art history, cultural studies or English (or any other) language. Nor am I a paid reviewer. I do believe though that most authors create an artefact because they want their audience to actively engage with it, rather than merely consume it passively. Writing reviews is my way of entering into dialogue with a text, as well as an opportunity to be creatively active myself. If people enjoy reading the end product, then so much the better.

About the blog

The function of this blog strongly informed its form. I ended up on Write.as because of the minimalist aesthetic and the deliberate absence of social media plug-ins, Fediverse integrations excepted. There is no SEO, and no trackers. It does mean that the blog lacks some features that readers will have come to expect, most notably the ability to comment and a navigation menu or archive.

To help find your way around, Write.as uses hashtags. Clicking a hashtag will generate a page listing all the posts with the same hashtag. I do my best to label all reviews, and my most common hashtags are at the end of this page.

Posts will be cross-posted to my Mastodon feed, so feel free to leave a comment there. Any feedback or response is much appreciated. You can also subscribe to receive future blogs via email using the ‘Subscribe’ button at the bottom of the homepage, or by adding this blog to an RSS feed.

How to navigate

Every post has one or more tags (‘#’) associated with it to help categorise it. Instead of using menus, you can click on a tag to retrieve all posts with the same tag. You can do this from within any blog post, or you can use the list below.

Mediums #books #films #theatre #tv #videogames

Type #fiction #nonfiction

Fiction genres #fantasy #literature #SF #speculative

Non-fiction categories #history #politics

Warning – contains spoilers

What happens after the revolution? It is a question that is somewhat of a liability for the Left, with a tradition of unsatisfyingly vague answers tracing back all the way to Marx’ (in)famous quip that his job wasn’t to write cookbooks for the post-revolutionary society. It may therefore come as a bit of a surprise to see this question taken up as the central theme of a series in, of all places, the Marvel universe.

Loki season 2 picks up from the end of Loki season 1, where we saw ‘He Who Remains’ killed at the hand of Sylvie (implausibly the only female Loki variant we ever see), and a sacred timeline shattering into infinite fragments. ‘Our’ Loki finds himself in an unfamiliar timeline, now one of many, and quickly discovers that HRW wasn’t lying about the universe tearing itself to shreds now that the Sacred Timeline is no more. Unbeknownst to the Powers that Were at the TVA, they had a ‘Temporal Loom’ in the basement which had the job of keeping the known universe together. Unable to cope with the manifold new timelines, it is in danger of falling apart, taking the universes with it. It is up to Loki, assisted by like-minded TVA employees, to fix this piece of pseudoscientific technobabble and keep the universe together.

Compared to season 1, the surface level plot of Season 2 is less compelling. The Temporal Loom is conceptually unconvincing, and like most other series dabbling in multiversal physics, one shouldn’t scrutinise the (temporal) logic too closely lest it falls apart faster than you can say ‘event horizon’. Cinematographically Season 2 also leans less into the ‘70s bureaucratic vibes of the first season, instead confining the action mostly to the slightly odd maintenance department and a Star Trek-esque control centre.

Just like season 1, however, Loki season 2 contends with themes more interesting than its unconvincing plot. Season 1 wanted to make us think about the balance between individual freedom and the greater good. Season 2 harkens back to that tension a bit, but shifts its main focus to what you do the day after a revolution. For revolution is what the death of HRW brings about: a complete rupture in how the universe operates, and who is in charge of it.

What season 2 wants to get across is that while revolutions may be difficult, what happens after is harder. Viewers familiar with revolutionary history will find no shortage of familiar challenges that beset the new regime at the TVA. There is the old-guard counter-revolution, led by General Dox and breakaway elements of the TVA, whose numbers for reasons of complex multidimensional physics range between 3 and infinite, but are always exactly what the plot requires. There are opportunists seeking power, represented by the double-crossing Ravonna Renslayer and Miss Minutes. But both of these are mere distractions to the biggest challenge: how to make sure that after the rupture, society (in this case reality as represented by the Temporal Loom) doesn’t fail to reproduce itself.

With reality falling apart around him, the dilemma Loki is faced with is that, if the new order cannot sustain itself, it is better to put the old order back in place, or to let the whole thing burn down and see what rises from the ashes. Loki’s allies at the new TVA, as well as latterly HRW, represent the former view, whereas the latter is represented by Sylvie taking a clear “it is better to die free than live enslaved” line. Caught between these two poles, Loki desperately tries to find a third option that would make the new order viable, but without putting the TVA back in charge or purging all realities but one.

In dealing with this question of whether it is better to have freedom even if it leads to chaos and death, or accept control and sacrifice for the greater good, Loki treats both sides thoughtfully and with sympathy. It would have been so easy to cast Sylvie as the fanatical revolutionary, willing to sacrifice everyone on the alter of ideological purity. Instead, the series shows how for someone like Sylvie, who has suffered enormously at the hands of the old order, it is better to let it all burn down and just see if something will rise from the ashes. For a good part of the season, her position seems more plausible than Loki’s, who is now cast as the reformer desperately trying to salvage elements of the old order to give the new order a fighting chance, but with very limited success.

The season finale resolves the tension through two surprising twists that make for a remarkably satisfying ending. First, after making the entire show a quest for a fix to the Temporal Loom, we discover that regardless of the efforts made, the Loom cannot be fixed because HRW designed it to fail. Turns out his prophecies were less about omniscience and more about his own handiwork. In a move whose logic echoes that of ruling elites throughout time and space, HRW designed the Loom to be a spacetime boobytrap precisely to defeat a revolution like the one Sylvie and Loki accomplished. It turns out the whole search for a version of HRW who might put matters right was a red herring all along.

Yet when all seems lost, it turns out that the way forward is not a technical fix, or even a compromise with the old order. Instead, we see Loki realise that he himself can take the place of the Loom and embrace his facet of the God of Stories, weaving the strands of all the realities together to keep them alive. Downside for Loki: he needs to sit on a multidimensional throne for, most likely, eternity, to keep the show on the road. The symbolism here is obvious: the alternative to either burning it all down, or putting the old ruling class back in charge, is for the revolutionaries (i.e., all of us) to do the constant work to keep the new society alive. Because Loki’s solution is not a single act, but a commitment to actively sustain the new order for eternity. Of course, a real post-revolutionary situation would not have such a singularly neat (if cosmic) solution. But that doesn’t diminish the message that we can have our better world, provided we are prepared to build it every single day after the revolution comes.

#tv #fiction #SF

Notes & suggestions

  • Vincent Bevin’s If We Burn is a very good overview of (quasi-)revolutionary movements in recent years that were more in line with Sylvie’s approach of burning the old world down without worrying about what might come after.
  • Ursula K. le Guin deals with the question of what makes a good revolution and how it is then sustained both in The Dispossessed and the related The Day before the Revolution.