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Brian Colella |
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This week, NBC announced that Carrie Underwood would be taking over for Faith Hill on the Sunday Night Football theme song duties. Hill is a country megastar, but let’s be honest: that theme song was underwhelming at best. Drawn-out intro songs like these, while showcasing production values, are almost uniformly forgettable.
The best theme songs in sports, for the most part, are instantly recognizable by a four-, five-, or six-note string. Think SportsCenter’s “duh-nuh-nuh, duh-nuh-nuh.” Others can, in 30 seconds, cause instant nostalgia and inspire chills like the best movie scores. Few run very long, and very few have vocals.
From people you’ve never heard of to renowned composers, these songs have a variety of origins but they all serve their purpose — to get you excited for what you’re about to watch. Here are our top 10 TV sports theme songs.
On Monday, Jason Collins became the first technically active pro athlete in the big four American sports to come out as gay. Collins played last season with the Boston Celtics and Washington Wizards but is to become an unrestricted free agent on July 1.
The reaction to Collins’ coming out has been vocally supportive, but there’s a lot more to come. Most important, at 12 years of experience Collins is nearing the tail end of a journeyman career. He hasn’t said he plans to retire, but his value as a free agent signing is doubtful. If he does end up retiring, it’ll take someone else coming out to be the first actually active openly gay player.
Nevertheless, Collins’ announcement is a big step forward for LGBTQ issues in professional sports, as the support he’s received — overwhelmingly drowning out the negative comments — should encourage more athletes to at least seriously consider following suit. In this spirit, here’s our Top 10 Athletes Who Broke Barriers.
At seven rounds long, the NFL Draft can be an arduous process for the players hoping to hear their names called. Over three days, each team attempts to mine the talent pool for future franchise stars.
It’s a combination of scouting and guesswork that can be wildly incorrect or fortuitously insightful. In 1998, the Indianapolis Colts picked Peyton Manning first overall, and the San Diego Chargers took Ryan Leaf. The two quarterbacks, drafted so close together, went on to strikingly different NFL careers. Manning became one of the greatest QBs ever, while Leaf - now in prison - is widely regarded as the biggest “bust” in draft history.
Other players who’ve gone on to stardom have come from all over the board. And quite a few never even heard their names called on draft day, including James Harrison (92), pictured above tackling Drew Brees. Here are the Top 10 Undrafted Players in NFL History.
This NBA season has been defined by two storylines. LeBron James and the Miami Heat made a run at the all-time longest winning streak, but fell short at 27 games — a nonetheless impressive feat. On the other end, the Los Angeles Lakers opened the season with a 1-4 start, after going winless in the preseason. For a Kobe Bryant–led team that had added stars Dwight Howard and Steve Nash, the initial slump was a shock. After firing head coach Mike Brown and bringing in Mike D’Antoni, the Lakers still went 15-21 in their first 36 games.
After the All-Star break, things slowly turned around and the Lakers managed to eke out a playoff spot on the regular season’s final day. It seems incredible that a team with as many problems as this one has can make the playoffs, but the NBA’s 16-team postseason format allows in a significant number of deeply average teams. Still, at 45-37, the Lakers aren’t anywhere close to the worst team to ever make the playoffs.
A myriad of struggling teams have squeezed into the postseason over the years. Though plenty of sub-.500 teams made the playoffs when the league was smaller, we’ve tried to find teams from more recent years whose mediocrity stands out. Here’s our list of the Top 10 Worst NBA Playoff Teams:
The Masters is one of golf’s four major tournaments, and arguably the most prestigious. On the links at Augusta National Golf Club, legends like Jack Nicklaus, Tiger Woods and Arnold Palmer have showcased their dominance at the tournament with 14 wins among them. But some of the most memorable Augusta moments have also been the most unlikely.
From Tour rookies to journeymen to the seemingly jinxed, the Masters has seen a handful of surprising first-time winners. The feat, accomplished in playoffs, comebacks and unexpected dominance was for some the only significant win of their careers. For others, it was just the start of top-level success.
Through careful consideration, we’ve compiled a list of the Top 10 Most Surprising First-Time Masters Winners.
Is Chuck Ross right in that we should “Blame Title IX for NCAA’s Financial Woes”?
Yes, women’s sports are less popular and profitable than men’s basketball and football. As Mr. Ross notes, most women’s programs actually lose money, and he cites a report published in 2011 by the NCAA that addressed Title IX as an issue prohibiting compensation for student-athletes.
The report discusses schools’ objections to legislation allowing student-athletes to receive money in addition to a full scholarship. Or, if the student does not receive a full scholarship, they can receive money up to the value of a full scholarship without it counting as a scholarship. Before the report explores ways in which the legislation could be altered to allow schools to maintain Title IX compliance, it drops this nugget: “Other schools who objected to the legislation stated they can’t afford the additional expense but feel it will be necessary to find the money to pay for it in order to compete for recruits.”
While the Title IX issues are framed in terms of ways schools hope to maintain compliance with the rule, there is no solution put forth as to how those schools that can’t afford to pay will remain competitive. When we watch the NCAA Tournament or the BCS bowls, we see a handful of schools making millions from athletes who don’t get paid, and we like to get a little riled up and believe there is some sort of unethical exploitation at work. But what about the other 300 NCAA Division I schools? Ross closes with the lament: “It would be nice to someday pay NCAA players whose talent and hard work benefit the schools, coaches, students, and alumni.” What Ross doesn’t say is: “It would be nice to someday pay NCAA players.”
Wait. If we’re only worried about the players whose talent and hard work benefit the schools, coaches, students, and alumni, we’re talking about the top players on men’s basketball and football teams. And those students already get paid. They get paid in scholarships, clothing, housing, food, transportation, and a national stage from which they can step into the pros.
We’re supposed to be concerned because these schools are subsidizing their programs using student fees and school funds, and Ross contends that Title IX is to blame because it’s draining so much money from schools’ budgets. But go to USA Today’s financial dataand take a closer look at one of these schools suffering under the burden of women’s sports, Ross’ alma mater Wichita State. Wichita State’s total subsidy in 2010 was $6,608,726, about 33 percent of all revenue. The school’s expenses breakdown was thus: $2.4 million in scholarships, $6.3 million to coaching staff, $900,000 to facilities, and $9 million for “other expenses,” a nebulous category that includes severance payments to past coaches and staff, recruiting, fundraising and marketing costs, conference dues, and guarantees paid to other schools.
Let’s suppose that the expenses of running Wichita State’s women’s basketball program in 2010, $1.45 million, is spread evenly across those four main categories. That’s $362,500 each on scholarships, coaching, facilities, and other. Now imagine Ross’ ideal world where Wichita State could choose to spend nothing on women’s basketball. They would spend, then, $2.1 million in scholarships, $5.9 million to coaching staff, $540,000 on facilities, and $8.7 on other. With revenue of just $11.8 million, excluding student fees, school funds, and women’s basketball, Wichita State would still find itself about $7 million short of breaking even.
Let’s be realistic: women’s basketball is not a financial burden on Wichita State. Men’s basketball is.
I’m willing to concede that Title IX could be an obstacle to increasing compensation for student-athletes. But I also contend that the athletes who do bring in the most money already are getting paid in the form of scholarships and other per diem. And that’s not to mention illegal gifts and that whole mess, which I suppose falls under “other expenses.” So if we do just want to “pay NCAA players whose talent and hard work benefit the schools,” we’re already there.
I’m also willing to admit that if we are going to pay all student-athletes, and not just Ross’ profitable athletes, the 125 players on a college football team might be a bigger problem than the women’s basketball team. Under the legislation discussed by the NCAA in the report Ross cited, every full-scholarship athlete could get $2,000 extra in compensation, and every athlete below a full scholarship could get extra compensation to the point where they effectively have a full scholarship. How many schools outside of the top tier can afford that?
Factually speaking, for a school like Texas A&M that lost $2.8 million on women’s basketball in 2010 per the Bloomberg report mentioned, Title IX is a financial drain, if you only consider the one sport. But $2.8 million is miniscule beside the school’s total athletics revenue of $82.7 million that year, and expenses of nearly $76 million, close to $60 million of which comes just from coaching staff and other expenses. And while Ross was concerned about school budgets and using tuition, fees, and school funds to pay for sports, Texas A&M (no subsidy in 2010), Texas, Michigan State and most of the other schools cited as having the costliest women’s sports programs are also the schools with the smallest subsidies.
Ross himself, in his article, negates his own point. He writes in criticism of Nick Gillespie that “libertarians […] discount the noneconomic benefits of moral and civic pride” that comes from a program’s success. And then Ross goes on to enumerate the various ways in which women’s sports are economic burdens on schools and to blame Title IX for a lack of maximized profitability in collegiate athletics departments. Collegiate sports are more than profit-earning ventures, and it is disingenuous to single out women’s sports and Title IX as a financial burden when spending on women’s programs makes up a fraction of a school’s overall athletics spending.

In my youth (which is to say, last year), Thanksgiving meant two things: reminiscing with old, back-in-town friends and bitching about old nemeses. Both of those tasks are best accomplished at a bar, and most tend to be packed the night before Thanksgiving. My memory’s hazy on it, but people tell me the holiday is about family, as well.
If there were ever a night to set maturity aside and revel in the quick-and-effective drinking strategies of your youth, it’s Thanksgiving Eve. And if you absolutely must take shots upon this occasion, these knowledgeable men and women have some tips for keeping it (somewhat) classy this Wednesday night.
The bartender: Matt Johnson, Feedback Lounge
The shot: If you show up here, begging for a shot, Johnson’s got just the thing for you. The Honeybush; a menu drink made with Honeybush tea–infused vodka, lemon, and ginger syrup—in shot form. Why? “Because a shot-drinker will giggle like a schoolgirl when they hear ‘bush.’”
Is it busy on Thanksgiving Eve? “God yes. Then, nope. And then, God yes, depending on the time of night. It’s weird, at best… Atmosphere is either casual regular drinking or… fitting as much in their boozeholes as they can before they have to be nice tomorrow.”
Where else would you send a shot-seeker? “The Frontier Room. In 1996.”
The bartender: Lisa Wallace, Toulouse Petit
The shot: Wallace recommends Jameson with a Stella back, “a Seattle standard.” Forget the two pages of wines and cocktails, putting these away while everyone around you sips Kir Royales is sure to get you in the holiday mood.
Is it busy? “Yes!” Toulouse is throwing a Thanksgiving Eve party, complete with DJs, from 9pm to 2am.
Where else would you send a shot-seeker? Down the block to Peso’s.
The bartender: Rachel Marshall, Montana
The shot: Montana’s most popular shot is a pickle back. It’s a shot of well whiskey (yessss) chased down with spicy, housemade pickle juice (yes?). Marshall says, “The pickle juice is so flavorful it’s like you didn’t drink any alcohol at all,” which leaves you perfectly primed for another. If well whiskey’s just not good (read: stomach-churning) enough for you, she says they’re also wonderful with tequila.
Is it busy? “Definitely… Gearing up for a holiday with family is as good a reason to drink mid-week as any.”
Where else would you send a shot-seeker? Barrio. Barkeep Casey Robison “can somehow inspire anyone to drink more tequila than they ever intended to.”
The bartender: Andrew Bohrer, Shot connoisseur, author of The Best Shots You’ve Never Tried
The shot: Bohrer recommends a more do-it-yourself approach to shots and favors small, low-alcohol shots for the holidays. “Many dry cleaners don’t take vomit stains,” he says. “Vomit is forever.” Good point.
Is it busy? We suppose that depends how many people you invite over.
Where else would you send a shot-seeker? The liquor store. Or a half-empty fridge, provided you have Bohrer’s book open to the “Shots of Last Resort” chapter.

There’s more to Thanksgiving than pie and turkey—what spread is complete without cranberry relish and sage stuffing? Field all the sides essential to a full-on feast at these six restaurants and bakeries.
Belle Clementine
You have until the 18th to get in your order for organic chicken liver mousse ($18/lb), Asian pear chutney ($10/pint), cranberry relish (ditto), and pear butter ($8/pint), which would go quite nicely with the molasses-oat Gifford bread. Gravy? Belle’s got it, available in pints or quarts for $8 or $15, respectively. That chicken liver mousse is joined on the hors d’uoevres list by marinated olives, quince paste, and spiced nuts to rev your metabolism for the main course. Pick up orders on the 21st between 12:30 and 7pm, or ask about other arrangements. 5451 Leary Avenue NW; place orders by emailing eat@belleclementine.com or fill out the form here.
Dahlia Bakery
In addition to pies, Dahlia has a stacked holiday menu—but your run-of-the-mill choices these aren’t. Find Tibetan hummus, carrot leek hand pies, three-seed breadsticks or pretzel sticks, spicy red pepper harissa, and more. Sage stuffing is about the only classic you’ll encounter, next to a bag of eight dinner buns for $7. See something you like but it’s not quite right or not enough? Dahlia will work with you to personalize the dish. Order online, in person, or by phone. 2001 Fourth Ave, 206-441-4540; tomdouglas.com
Grand Central Bakery
Being a bakery, pies shine here, but Grand Central has plenty of other pastry options, too. There’s cranberry pecan or pumpkin quick bread for $10.95. Hazelnut currant levain or rustic stuffing are great deals at under $5. Buttermilk, Como, rosemary, Grande Bolo, or peasant levain rolls are available by the dozen, half-dozen, or individually. Retrieve orders at any Grand Central location during regular hours through the 21st. 1616 Eastlake Ave E, 206-957-9505; 214 First Ave S, 206-622-3644; grandcentralbakery.com.
Pasta and Co.
The place to go if you want the works. The “fail-proof Thanksgiving table” comes at $159 with a turkey and $99 without. If you choose the turkey, it’s a house-roasted breast (unfortunately, no drumsticks here). The rest of the spread promises accompaniments aplenty. Choose from two types of gravy, cranberry sauce with dried sour cherries and rum, and stuffing with sausage and apples. Or opt for seasoned mushrooms, roasted garlic mashed potatoes, sweet potato puree, and Brussels sprouts with garlic bread crumbs. And even more options: blanched broccoli, artisan rolls, and pumpkin cheesecake. Call before the 19th or drop in to order, and pick up before closing on the 21st. 4622 26th Ave NE, 206-523-8594; 10218 NE Eighth St, 425-453-8760; pastaco.com.
Skillet
Everyone’s favorite food truck–turned–diner invites you to “take sides, give thanks” this holiday season. Five of them come individually for $15 or as a package for $65. Choices include vegetarian wild rice stuffing with hazelnuts, cranberries, sage, and shiitakes; turkey gravy with sherry and sage; and homemade Parker House rolls. You might even convince the little ones to eat Brussels sprouts—these come roasted and with bacon jam. On the pie front there’s salted caramel apple, toasted hazelnut pumpkin, cornice pear with ginger and lemon, or coffee pecan for $25 each. Order online or by phone and pick up your side(s) between noon and 6:30 on the 20th or 21st. 6301 Fifth Ave S, 205-708-1588; skilletstreetfood.com.
The Swinery
West Seattle’s Temple of Porcine Love is a great place to get turkey or other meats for your main dish, but it’s also serving up sides to go with it. If open-fire roasting is on your agenda, grab a handful of chestnuts, fresh from an orchard near Mt. Hood (limited quantities available). Then there’s turkey gravy, stuffing, and cranberry relish, plus a roasted veggie medley and duck fat croutons and crostini. Pick up a fresh pie crust to get your dessert started and you’ll be ready to go. 3207 California Ave SW, 206-932-4211; swinerymeats.com

Thanksgiving is probably our favorite holiday because it’s unabashedly all about the food. And when we say food, we mean pie—the part of the meal that’s the easiest to outsource. Whether you’re trying to streamline dinner prep, or generally have zero inclination to fire up the oven, we’ve put together this guide to some of the best pie providers in town. And if pie’s not your thing, there are some great sugar-laden alternatives, too.
A la Mode Pies
Chris Porter’s little pie shop is baking six Thanksgiving specials this year, including marionberry and hazelnut, key lime, apple and ginger pear, and pumpkin pies. Each one is $27 and can be ordered for delivery (for a fee) or pickup through Monday the 19th. If you find yourself scrambling last minute, A la Mode will be open from 8–3 on Thanksgiving Day.5821 Phinney Avenue N; 206-383-3796; alamodeseattle.com.
Ba Bar
For a less-traditional option, Ba Bar pastry maven Karen Krol has a $28 milk chocolate pear gateau, a flourless chocolate cake layered with milk chocolate pear mousse and cider poached pears, that serves 9 to 10. Krol’s other pie choices include upside down caramel apple ($24), sour cream apple ($22), and sweet potato pecan praline pies ($24). If pie’s not your thing or you just want to fancy it up a bit, grab a dozen macarons for $15 in salted caramel, cassis, pumpkin spice, or pomegranate flavors. Good news for procrastinators—Krol will be taking orders through the 19th. 550 12th Avenue; 206-328-2030; babarseattle.com.
Chaco Canyon Cafe (Vegan, Gluten Free)
For the vegan or gluten free, all is not lost. Chaco Canyon has you covered on the favorites with a classic apple pie and vegan pumpkin pie, plus cranberry ginger pear pie and raw pumpkin spice tart ($49). All of the pies are available in 8” or 10” ($18 or $29) and on your choice of organic wheat or gluten-free crust. Get your order in by Sunday the 18th. 4757 12th Ave NE; 206-522-6966; chacocanyoncafe.com.
Christine and Co. Catering
Owner Christine Lea’s pies are an absolute steal at $15 for the rich pumpkin pie and $20 for apple, pecan with Kahlua and dark chocolate, black-bottom banana cream (aka bbbp), and cherry with lattice top. She’ll do group deliveries to offices, too, with no extra charge. Order by the 19th, and pies will be delivered on Wednesday the 21st. 206-623-3173; christineandco1@aol.com.
Dahlia Bakery (Gluten Free)
Tom Douglas’s bakery has delicious pies, yes. Also: a new cookbook out to help you recreate those pies yourself, and a readymade crust to make that option easier. If you’d still rather leave it to the pros, Dahlia spokeswoman Molly Melkonian says this season is all about perfecting old-fashioned favorites—the pumpkin pie is made from pumpkins straight from T-Doug’s own farm in Prosser blended with butternut squash for a super smooth and creamy texture. The other featured pies are a hot buttered rum apple pie, Kentucky bourbon pecan pie, and the famed triple coconut cream pie. Order before 3pm on November 20 (if you miss it for Thanksgiving, the holiday menu runs until December 24), or pick up in store on a first-come, first-served basis. Nearly endless cutomization and allergy-accommodating options are available as well, just call and ask. 2001 Fourth Ave; 206-441-4540; tomdouglas.com.
Grand Central Bakery
Want to make your own pie, but need a little help? Hit up Grand Central’s Seattle-area locations for some U-bake pie crust and read up on baker Piper Davis’s Golden Rules of Pie to get started. Fill your crust with one of Grand Central’s holiday pie recipes, including pumpkin and bourbon pecan, or new seasonal additions cranberry pear tart, maple walnut, and apple brandy mince pie. If you’d rather just do the baking and none of the making, grab a U-bake apple pie. Also, pecan pies with fresh-crop pecans straight from a farm in North Carolina. 214 First Avenue S; 206-622-3644; grandcentralbakery.com.
High 5 Pie
Dani Cone’s pie den on Capitol Hill has a bevy of baked delicacies for you to choose from. Of course, there are classics—the Great Pumpkin, caramel pecan—but High 5 also has cranberry nut and sweet potato pies. If you were looking for apple, consider instead the salted caramel pear, with just-crisp-enough pears and a light bite of salt. Or check out their pie jars, which include apple, white chocolate cranberry, and marionberry (and would make great gifts). Other treats like scones, pie pops, cookies, pumpkin bread, and pumpkin mini pies are available as well. 1400 12th Avenue; 206-695-2284; high5pie.com.
Hot Cakes (Vegan)
“Molten chocolate cakes are the new pie,” says Theo Chocolate’s former head chocolatier Autumn Martin, who founded Hot Cakes in 2008, selling said cakes in jars at local farmers markets. This year, Hot Cakes is offering a holiday special of six organic dark decadence molten chocolate cakes with rye whiskey caramel sauce for $40. Orders need to be in by November 14, and cakes can be picked up through November 21. Vegan dark chocolate cakes are available, too. 5427 Ballard Ave NW; 206-420-3431;getyourhotcakes.com.
Macrina Bakery
Pies will be available in the bakery’s Seattle locations, but ordering ahead of time will guarantee you don’t miss out. Call (or order in person) before noon on the 19th to claim a maple sugar apple, pumpkin, maple pecan pumpkin (tartlet), or orange pecan pie. Macrina’s non-pie offerings star an autumn spice cake with apples, currants, walnuts, ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves frosted with maple brown sugar cream cheese buttercream and a delicious-sounding pumpkin cheesecake on ginger molasses cookie crust. 2408 First Avenue; 206-448-4032; macrinabakery.com.
RN74
If pecan is your thing, Kim Mahar at RN74 is baking chocolate pecan tarts that can be picked up at the restaurant during regular hours starting November 7. The tarts serve 12, and at a reasonable $24 grabbing one is a great holiday deal. In store, the tarts will be first come, first served; but place an order by phone or fax with 48 hours advance notice to make sure you find the tart(s) you’re looking for. 1433 Fourth Avenue; 206-456-7474; michaelmina.net.
Skelly and the Bean
Bring in your own suitable Pyrex or aluminium pie plate and pastry chef Kathleen Callahan will fill it with Dutch apple or pumpkin-bourbon pie for $40. She’s also making cranberry tarts and gluten-free frozen maple mousse for $45, no pie plate necessary. All pies are 9 inches and feed eight people (the mousse feeds 10).Order by 4pm on Friday, November 16 and pick up desserts between noon and close on Wednesday the 21st. 2359 10th Ave E; 206-328-2326; skellyandthebean.com.
Volunteer Park Cafe
Ericka Burke and pastry chef Emily Weeks will be offering up tried-and-true classics this year, available for preorder until November 15. For $32 each, pick up an organic pumpkin, organic apple, or chocolate pecan pie for your table by the 21st. 1501 17th Avenue E; 206-328-3155; alwaysfreshgoodness.com.
Yippie Pie Yay
Seattle’s newest pie venture offers delivery (to Seattle and Eastside) and pickup options of whole pies, mini pies, hand pies, and specialty pies. The standard pie menu of spiced apple, blueberry, blackberry, and pecan bourbon is joined by seasonal choices such as a pumpkin pie sweetened with maple syrup. Vegan crust or other special requests can be accommodated. 206-227-9665; yippiepieyay.blogspot.com.

“I must say, Led Zeppelin therapy is still working best,” Seattle cartoonist Ellen Forney confesses midway through Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo, and Me (Gotham, November 6), her graphic memoir about the four-year struggle after being diagnosed with bipolar disorder. The line follows the revelation that a drug prescribed by her doctor isn’t working. And when the doctor prescribes yet another med, Forney says, “I will imbue it with all my hopes and dreams.” The book is compelling not only for its intimacy but also for its depth of information and research, especially—and importantly for Forney the cartoonist—concerning the connection between bipolarity and art. Afraid that medication will destroy her creativity, she reads up on famous crazy artists (dubbed “Club Van Gogh”). She draws depression as a tiny, faceless figure that gets out of bed, moves to the couch, and falls asleep again; mania as a wave sweeping her away. Neither, she concludes, is something she can handle on her own. Ultimately, Marbles is inspiring not only in Forney’s coming to terms with her unquiet mind, but in her openness in sharing that journey.

Alcoholism, drug abuse, poverty, aimlessness, and death—always death—weigh heavily on the characters in Blasphemy: New and Selected Stories (Grove/Atlantic, October 2), the latest from Sherman Alexie. Shuffled in with the classics—“The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven,” “The Toughest Indian in the World”—are 16 new tales. Together they reveal the Seattle writer’s mastery of powerful sentences and penchant for infusing his yarns with autobiography: infantile hydrocephalus features in “War Dances,” high-school basketball stardom in “Whatever Happened to Frank Snake Church,” and the existential quandary of an Indian removed from the reservation in almost every story. But because this is Sherman Alexie, all that misery is tempered with sardonic—if fatalistic—humor. “Why should we organize a reservation high school reunion?” one character asks. “My graduating class has a reunion every weekend at the Powwow Tavern.”

Secrets of the Cell (Archaia Entertainment), the second installment in Bothell-based Royden Lepp’s graphic novel series Rust, centers on the Taylors, the quiet farm family whose lives were disrupted by the arrival of Jet Jones in part one, Visitor in the Field. The new book flashes back 48 years to Jet Jones’s escape from the military compound where it seems he was part of a project turning boys into jetpack-wearing weapons to save the world from armies of robots. Back in the present day, eldest Taylor son Roman is intent on rebuilding a couple of “model-C” robots to code for farm work, a project that quickly turns sour. Lepp’s tale is a story of few words. Several pages contain only facial expressions—Jones’s jaw clinched with determination in one frame, his mug contorted in agony the next. But the minimal dialogue is bolstered by the artwork, sepia-toned images that—robotics aside—could almost pass for photos shot a century ago.

In Kim Fay’s novel The Map of Lost Memories (Ballantine, Aug 21), the protagonist, Irene Blum, leads a ragtag group of misfits on a trek stretching from Seattle to Shanghai and the jungles of Cambodia, hunting for the lost history of the Khmer empire, which ruled Southeast Asia for over 600 years. There are enough twists to make M. Night Shyamalan do a double take—Blum’s mother did what?
A scholar thrust into action, Blum is more museum docent than tomb raider, and the action more puzzle solving than whip cracking. As personal, political, and cultural histories intertwine, a mesh of hidden motives and uneasy alliances creates a sense of looming disaster. Although Fay’s prose falls short of creating an immersive setting prior to the expedition’s arrival in Cambodia, the characters’ emotions and actions are richly imagined.
It’s obvious that this Seattleite, who’s lived in Vietnam and traveled throughout Asia, has a passion for the region. And luckily Map, Fay’s first foray into fiction—she’s authored cookbooks in the past—hints at the possibility of more Blum adventures.

Back in our December issue, we published a guide to the craft distilleries that have populated the state since Washington lawmakers created the craft distillery license in 2008. And since then, we’ve continued keeping a close eye on local spirits. With the transition from Soviet-style state-controlled stores to liquor flowing in the aisles of QFCand Costco, more underage kids have better access to booze than everit’s been an eventful year. But distillers continue to throw their bottle caps into the ring. Some, like Rain City, got caught in the “prohibition” period where state stores weren’t buying and direct sales were illegal. Others, like broVo, are now in “ten times the number of stores” as before. Here’s a sampling of what’s new and growing in the spirit scene.
IN SEATTLE
2Bar Spirits
Though it’s not open yet, 2Bar is wrapping up construction of its tasting room in a warehouse which, as owner Nathan Kaiser gleefullyannounced on Facebook, is “exactly 10 seconds (walking)” from the spacious SoDo liquor store that’s slated to reopen. Kaiser, who named the distillery after the Texas ranch run by generations of his family, hopes to kick off business within the next couple of months. 2Bar’s liquor lineup will include gin, vodka, and moonshine, with aged whisky and bourbon slated for future release.
2960 Fourth Ave S, Ste 106; 2barspirits.com
broVo Spirits
BroVo is one of the few distilleries not making gin and vodka to while away the years while its whisky ages. Cofounder Mhairi Voelsgen originally wanted to make scotch, but after much research and discussion with business partner Erin Brophy, the pair decided to make botanical-infused liqueurs. Their current lineup includes Douglas fir, ginger, lavender, lemon balm, and rose geranium, sourced from places like Northport, Quinault, Ferndale, and Puyallup. Also in the works: an amaro.
No tasting room. Brovospirits.com
With plans to open this fall, Jason Parker is constructing a sizable tasting room and retail shop right in the heart of the downtown waterfront. Parker, who’s brewed for Pike, Redhook, and more, loves his malts. He’ll offer up three whiskies and three gins in the glass-walled, 6,900-square-foot space.
51 University St; Copperworksdistilling.com
Rain City Spirits
Cory Duffy, like many other distillers, comes from a background in restaurants. Duffy fell in love with winemaking years ago, but the barriers to entry were too high. When a local distiller introduced him to the spirit world, Duffy was hooked. He now makes Rain City Vodka, spurred by the desire to make it Seattle’s finest. He also has plans for a coffee liqueur called Rain City Drip. Rain City is currently too small for a tasting room (expansion to a “top secret” location is in the works), but you can make an appointment to drop by for a tour.
321 Third Ave S, Ste 204. 206-464-7246; raincityvodka.com
Glass Distillery
Glass Distillery launched its flagship product, Glass Vodka, on June 8 of this year. Cofounders Ian MacNeil and Adrian Higginbotham previously worked together on a biodiesel startup, and a common interest in creating another product they were both passionate about led them into distilling. Glass serves up grape-based vodka in a 49-seat SoDo tasting room featuring design elements repurposed from the almost 100-year-old original building.
1712 First Ave S. By appointment only, 206-686-7210; glassdistillery.com
OUTSIDE SEATTLE
Carbon Glacier Distillery
Owners Keith Quimby and Chris Lyons met at BNSF Railway where they work as transportation supervisors. United by their shared background as military vets (Air Force and Navy, respectively) and passion for distilling—Chris, a Kentucky native, was basically born in bourbon—the pair settled at the foot of Mt. Rainier, where they brew their B4 Premium Handcrafted Vodka and forthcoming gin (soon), whiskey, and bourbon (both 2013). While the men brew, wives Karol and Marian run the tasting room.
533 Church St, Wilkeson. Fri–Mon noon–6; Carbonglacierdistillery.com
Dark Moon Artisan Distillery
Snohomish-based Dark Moon doesn’t have a real tasting room, but stop by to hang out with master distiller John Dawson and you’ll get to try his unique apple-based Singing Whale Vodka—“tasty enough to sip straight.” Coming soon, another unusual liquor—a white rum being released in August. Dawson and co-owner Kathy Alley are usually in seven days a week, but recommend calling ahead on the weekend.
1830 Bickford Ave, Ste 108, Snohomish. Mon–Fri 8–5, call ahead Sat & Sun; 360-217-8244;facebook.com/darkmoondistillery
Ezra Cox Distillery
Led by Ezra Cox, a former brewmaster and production manager of a craft brewery, this distillery focuses on single-malt spirits. The first offering will be Ezra Cox Moonshine, with a portion being aged for future release as whisky, along with vodka. Cox also plans to produce limited batches of other spirits. The tasting room, in historic Centralia, retails the liquor and related merch and gives guests a window into the production activities.
719 North Tower Ave, Centralia. By appointment only; facebook.com/ezracoxdistillery.centraliawa
Parliament Distillery
Owners Jarrett Tomal, Flynn Huntington, and Matt McCartney got tired after years in the construction industry and decided, hey, we like to drink whisky, so why not make it? Tomal does the distilling and co-owns Parliament with Huntington, while McCartney serves as VP of sales. Currently the trio offers Ghost Owl single-malt Pacific Northwest moonshine, and whisky is on the way.
13708 24th St E, Ste 103, Sumner. Mon–Sat noon–7, Sun noon–6; Ghostowlwhisky.com

Cascade Bike Club
Boasting more than 14,000 members, it’s the country’s largest cycling club and schedules rides on virtually every day of the year. The 42-year-old society runs the Seattle to Portland Bicycle Classic and the largest consumer bicycle expo in the U.S., as well as a bike swap with over 100 vendors. 206-522-2453;cascade.org
Cyclists of Greater Seattle
COGS members number roughly 120 and cover a range of skill levels, with moderate and brisk Wednesday-evening rides kicking off at Gas Works and ending with social gatherings. Members-only weekend getaways take riders on tours of scenic spots like the Columbia River Gorge or the San Juan Islands, but this troop is all about hanging with fellow gear heads, hosting club picnics, potlucks, dinners, and holiday parties. cyclistsofgreaterseattle.org, rides@cyclistsofgreaterseattle.org
Native Planet Cycling
With a focus on rolling up hills, this club is in the right corner of the country. Native Planet cyclists see the best scenery from on high, though alternate route options exist for anyone with less-than-bionic quads. The club is organized as a 63-member Facebook group but welcomes all friendly pedalers.
facebook.com/groups/nativeplanetcycling
Outdoors for All
Not a strictly bicycling group, Outdoors for All’s mission is to bring recreation to people with disabilities. The club rents hand-powered cycles, tri- and quadcycles, and other adaptive cycles to the general public. An annual membership for the cycling team is $85, which gets you a jersey, training rides, event registration, and the option to join the crew on the Seattle to Portland ride.
206-838-6030 ext 200; outdoorsforall.org

Patricia Hansen
Long-Haul Activist
It took almost 70 years, but Patricia Hansen is finally taking the cross-country ride of a lifetime. She’s prepared physically for a 3,500-mile roll, since she and her partner Bill Leach “are in such good shape; younger people can’t keep up with us.”
Hansen has been busy running Emerald City Lights Bike Ride, a nonprofit organization she started in 2005 with Leach; it puts on two local outings per year (the next will be September 8). Like many group rides, it raises money; Hansen’s cause of choice is hunger in the Pacific Northwest, and her “four-day food boxes”—they include Hansen’s own homemade jam—have been delivered to more than 1,000 local families.
Hansen departed the West Coast on April Fool’s Day, on a 97-day route that includes stops in nine states, from Oregon to Virginia. She’s funding the whole ride herself and will sleep most nights in a Ford Econoline van; on off days she hopes to participate in fundraising events in towns she passes. So far, pledge donations raised by the trip have raked in more than any of her Seattle bike events did—she uses pledges to deliver food to needy families along her path. When she arrives in Yorktown, Virginia, on July 7, her 70th birthday, she hopes to have achieved her real goal: to raise enough dough to feed a hungry family for a year.—BC
Favorite Gear Hansen’s Topeak multitool dates back to the ’90s: “I could not be without it.”
Try: Topeak Hexus 16II, $25, Angle Lake Cyclery, anglelakecycle.com
David Postetter
Accident Victim
“The last thing I remember is seeing the hood of the car as I flew over it,” says 25-year-old David Postetter. He’s talking about a triathlon in July 2010, when a car turned in front of a trio of racers, causing Postetter to strike it while he was moving at 20 miles per hour. He woke up covered in gravel, glass, and blood, but still thought about finishing the race. That didn’t happen, because after he had flown over the car, Postetter smashed the rear window of a parked minivan, and something—what, he doesn’t know for sure—severed 80 percent of his calf muscle, an injury that required three surgeries and kept him off his bike for six months.
A year later, though, Postetter was racing again. And the car that he says caused the collision? “I like to think that if it had been me, I would’ve noticed three bikers and a race going on,” he says of the driver who failed to use a turn signal. Despite the testimony of nearby drivers, the police declared the accident a no-fault incident (the driver’s insurance company did issue a payout to Postetter, but it covered less than half of his medical bills). This is not unique; most drivers involved in car-on-bike collisions are never cited, and Washington State’s Department of Transportation reports that, in the last decade, 34 percent of all bike-related collisions—and fully half of cyclist fatalities—occurred when cyclists were “riding with traffic.” Postetter, who hopes to compete in USA Triathlon nationals, is now much more cautious and says, “Treat every car as if they don’t see you.” —Brian Colella

JEFF, ONE LONELY GUY (Amazon Publishing), by Jeff Ragsdale, David Shields, and Michael Logan, is a crowd-sourced anthology of American melancholy. In October 2011, Ragsdale, a University of Washington alum and the eponymous lonely guy, posted flyers all around New York City with his phone number. New Yorkers—and later, people from all over the world—proceeded to deluge his phone with calls and texts, treating it like a digital confessional.
Shields and Logan compiled the phone transcripts and texts (along with Ragsdale’s responses) into a sort of voyeuristic experiment. The book lacks narrative, chronology, and many other attributes one typically associates with the word book. But as Shields—a UW prof and author of the novel-assassinating manifesto Reality Hunger—writes in the introduction, “This is the authentic sound of human beings, at ground level, often in economic freefall, trying to connect in whatever way possible…. This is America singing—singing a dirge.”

This past Saturday, cheese aficionados descended upon the Seattle Design Center for the Washington Artisan Cheesemakers Festival. Lisa Miyashita organized the first-ever fest as a way to celebrate the state’s curd community.
The event was a laid-back affair as fromage folk meandered from table to table awaiting their chance for a sample and a chat with the cheesemonger. Anyone wishing to take a taste home could purchase a block at the dedicated retail area stocked with between 70 and 80 cheeses. Though this was the inaugural event, participants and attendees alike agreed it was a success. Miyashita had hoped the fest would attract 500 people; by the end of the six-hour affair, about 600 people had passed through.
Check out the slideshow for a slice of the action. All photos by Brian Colella.

FORMER BAINBRIDGE ISLANDER Jim Gullo began indoctrinating his second son Joe in baseball at an early age (after his eldest chose basketball), and this time it sticks—though Joe’s burgeoning affinity for stats and analysis make his future seem more Billy Beane than Edgar Martínez. Trading Manny: How a Father and Son Learned to Love Baseball Again (Da Capo Press, April 1) follows Gullo as he grapples with the sport’s steroid scandals—epitomized by juiced-up slugger Manny Ramírez—and the fatal flaw of athletic hero worship. The author looks for answers anywhere he can, even pushing the late Mariners announcer Dave Niehaus to cut him off angrily: “I don’t want to talk about steroids!” The book juggles moments both serious (a high school player commits suicide after steroid-induced depression) and humorous (the time Gullo almost beaned Paul Simon’s son with a ball). In between, there’s about as much closure over steroids as a disgruntled baseball fan can hope to get.

Visitors enter Captive Spirits through an unassuming side door of a nondescript building just off 15th in Ballard; the first thing you might notice is the baby in proximity to the booze. “It’s the most ‘ma and pa’ distillery in town,” says Ben Capdevielle. He doesn’t necessarily mean the fact that his daughter Stella hangs out with him most days at the distillery, but her presence drives the point home.
Capdevielle, a longtime bartender at spots including La Isla, King’s Hardware, and Seatown, continues a family tradition. His grandfather distilled Templeton Rye during the Prohibition Era, and Capdevielle’s father passed along the enthusiasm for spirits. The younger Capdevielle started Captive Spirits with fiancée Holly Robinson, who does events for Bastille and previously worked for Tom Douglas. The third partner, Todd Leabman, is a builder who handles the team’s bookkeeping and navigates Captive Spirits through myriad bureaucratic hurdles.
Currently, production is focused on Big Gin, which can only be found in limited release at local bars. If you want a personal bottle you have to wait until June 1. Captive Spirits, though tiny, is not licensed as a craft distillery, which means no tasting room, and currently no sales except to bars, restaurants, or liquor stores. The state will still do special orders if there’s a buyer, so Capdevielle hopes one of the nearby Ballard stores will partner up with him prior to the June 1 deadline.
This is where the craft license’s 51-percent-locally-sourced rule for ingredients gets controversial. Gin is made by distilling high-proof ethyl alcohol with juniper and other botanicals, and juniper is not something that Washington does well. And unless you distill your own pure grain alcohol, you have to import that, too. Rum, which uses sugar cane, is a no-no as well.
The owners chose to forego the craft license in favor of finding the best ingredients possible, particularly a base spirit that wouldn’t adversely affect the taste. Big Gin starts from a corn-based 190-proof alcohol from Kentucky and is made with traditional gin ingredients (it’s an “Old World” gin, designed to be tasted, not hidden, when mixed).
Capdevielle and Robinson are so enthusiastic about Big Gin that you almost believe that’s all they want to make. When asked about future plans, though, Robinson mentioned an aperitif and, no surprise, whiskey. Robinson called whiskey their passion, which makes sense given Capdevielle’s family history. The overall plan is start small (low overhead) and grow slowly, so those expansions are a ways away.
If you’re planning a visit to Captive Spirits, consider June 2, when Robinson will pull together food, drink, and live music for a release party celebrating open season on sales to the general public. Hit up the slideshow above for more info on the Ballard microdistillery, and learn more about other local distilleriesright over here.
Captive Spirits Distilling, 1518 NW 52nd Street Ste A, Ballard, 206-852-4794; captivespiritsdistillery.com
Metro 2033 is an acquired taste. Combining elements from first-person shooters, survival horror, and stealth, it remains one of my favorite games of this generation. Most of what I love about 2033 comes from the terrifyingly realistic shooting mechanics. The handmade guns jam, kick like mules, and are a tool of desperation—not bravery. This very intentional design decision adds so much to the game’s atmosphere; It is also exactly what most reviewers criticized 2033 for back in 2010.
Three years later its sequel, Metro: Last Light, directly addresses all of the criticisms leveled at its predecessor’s combat. The gun controls feel tight, largely due to a Call of Duty–style snap-to-target aim assist. The ability to silently take down unaware targets, a feature woefully missing from the original, feels appropriately intimate. Resources are more plentiful and easier to find. These improvements make it far easier to appreciate the care and attention to detail 4A Games have put into worldbuilding Last Light.
This puts me in a weird place. As a fanboy I say: “How dare they make the game more accessible!” As a critic: “The desperation and bleakness that made the first game stand out is diluted by Western, ‘hand holding’ design influences.” But my heart says, “Shut up you two!” You’re right, Heart, Metro: Last Light is a fantastic game.
The semi-supernatural elements are executed far more coherently than in 2033 and still left me gaping at the screen thinking, WTF did I just see?
Last Light is set one year after the default ending of Metro 2033 where you, Artyom, must deal with the consequences of the game’s events. Yes, I know the statute of limitations on 2010 spoilers has expired, but it was revelatory for me when I played it so if you’re curious you’ll have to play it or read about it elsewhere. What I can say is that Last Light doles out exposition gracefully over the first couple chapters. To those looking to jump into the franchise now, walk slowly and you can pick up all you need to know.
Last Light is an incredibly dense game. The dilapidated metro is a microcosm of humanity. Every inch of the once-functioning subway system/fallout shelter is drenched in story. The walls have been corroded over time by splatters of rust-colored blood from bodies that now lie just below. The construction of the shanty towns that make up the hubs of the game have a meticulousness about them rivaling BioShock or Uncharted 2. Not only does each piece of corrugated sheeting feel as if it could collapse from the slightest bump, but the level design oozes the personality of each station.
Do you spare the murderous Nazi eugenicists? You can, but should you?
Another benefit to walking slowly is being able to eavesdrop on the people that inhabit the apocalyptic world. Even when the voice acting and lip synchronization fall short, the writing stands tall. A testament to the writing’s strength is how far off the primary path it is placed—showing 4A’s confidence that players will seek it out and be drawn in. All of these completely optional stories delve deep into the psyches of humans without hope. One group of refugees in particular, having just been raided by bandits, was cracking at the seams. The group’s grandmother’s descent into hysteria still haunts me just thinking about it.
The bandits, to their misfortune, were only just around the bend. When I heard the screams of the captured women being beaten, the hairs on my forearms bristled with rage. Knowing the captives would certainly be shot if I went in guns blazing, I opted for stealth. While stealth usually requires a level of patience, the bone-chilling cries for help added pressure and an adrenaline rush I have never felt in a stealth game. Each kill was personal. The unsuspecting rapists and murderers grasped at severed arteries after I crept past in the shadows. One particular stealth kill animation shows you plunging your knife into the bandit’s heart as he stares into your eyes. Too surprised to react, he sinks to his knees. You cradle him to the ground as a parent lays a baby down to sleep so that he won’t make a sound. That’s the kind of game this is.
What makes the violence so powerful is the constant reminder that, for the most part, killing is a choice. Last Light has a vague morality system working behind the scenes. Similar to Dishonored, players have the option of knocking enemies out or avoiding them entirely. Through playing mercifully, it’s supposedly possible to achieve another ending to the game. By hiding this feedback from the player, the choice to kill or not doesn’t feel like a min/max game mechanic, it feels like a personal choice. Do you spare the murderous Nazi eugenicists? You can, but should you?
Besides the stories happening around you, the journey of Artyom is a bit of a mixed bag. The first two thirds of his journey are more of a bus tour around the metro. Chase one bad guy, escape from one bad guy, chase a new bad guy, and so on. Pretty standard videogame writing provides justification for stealth combat, exploration through giant, spider-infested tunnels, and a few trips topside. When the story really picks up steam is when Artyom starts being an agent of his own will, seeking to expose the truth about the Dark Ones and bring peace to the metro. The semi-supernatural elements are executed far more coherently than in 2033 and still left me gaping at the screen thinking, WTF did I just see?
I finished the game satisfied with its denouement that was both exciting and appropriately bleak. While I do not know what the other ending entails, my ending, based on my vengeful approach to combat, was fitting of the anti-hero I was roleplaying. When I play through the game again, I won’t murder everyone in my path.
4A Games addressed the previous game’s failings and created a sequel worthy of praise from hardcore fans as well as newcomers to the franchise.
Speaking of multiple playthroughs, I made a mistake. As a reviewer I should have played on normal, without any pre-order content. But as a huge fan of the Ranger Mode that was added to 2033 post-launch, I decided to buy it, despite believing including it in the standard SKU would have been a smarter business decision. For my first time through, I decided to play on this hardcore mode, which disables nearly all HUD elements including ammo counters. While it is as immersive and challenging as advertised, I strongly advise saving it for a second playthrough. Even though the promotional material states Ranger Mode is “the way it was meant to be played,” Huw Beynon, global brand manager at Last Light‘s publisher Koch Media, admits the ad is somewhat misleading.
We do not recommend Ranger Mode for a first playthrough, and this is made very clear in-game. We expect Metro fans will want to try Ranger Mode for a subsequent playthrough, and we think that for this hardcore player, Ranger Mode offers a richer experience—but only once you’ve clocked the game at least once.
One other mistake I made was not properly adjusting the gamma settings. By allowing too much light into the environment, I essentially removed realism and lighting-based challenges from the environments. I could see all the ladders, spot all the traps, and prowl around undetected without the use of a flashlight, infrared goggles, or my trusty bullet-shaped lighter. About halfway through the game, I realized my error and properly adjusted the settings, drastically changing the look and feel of the game to be even darker, scarier, and more tactically exacting—more like the original.
Metro: Last Light is exactly what we demanded it should be. 4A Games addressed the previous game’s failings and created a sequel worthy of praise from hardcore fans as well as newcomers to the franchise. It builds a world around the player with a density and realism that quickly envelops the player. To those yet to play a Metro game, Last Light is a must-buy. For fans of 2033’s quirks, no other game will even come close to scratching that Eastern Bloc Metro itch.
There is a restaurant in the Mission district of San Francisco that I absolutely love. I have been a regular on the weekends for over 2 years, and while talking with the chef the other day I had an epiphany. A chef is the perfect analogy for what a game designer should be. A chef crafts experiences specifically designed to evoke emotions of pleasure and satisfaction. And just as a well-crafted dish is meaningless if it’s not eaten, a game must be played to be judged.
This epiphany brought to light a second analogy of game designers: Meth Cooks. Having worked on the monetization of free-to-play (F2P) mobile games, I know designing life-crippling drugs isn’t why these people get out of bed in the morning. Money is the only thing on their mind.
As gaming addiction diagnoses begin to surpass other psychological afflictions such as gambling addiction, sex addiction, and eating disorders, we as gamers must be conscious of why we’re playing. We’ve already allowed games like Dead Space 3 to lace F2P mechanics into its in-game economy. Is (your favorite franchise) next?
When designing an F2P game, there are very specific formulas to be followed for a successful title. “Premium currencies,” “First one is free,” and “Timegating” are all monetization tactics being passed off as game design. These are proven brain-hacks that specifically overpower and bypass conscious thought. Rather than give players entertainment worth paying for, these formulas make them dependent.
The chef game designer uses existing recipes and combines ingredients in new ways to create cohesive games. The choice between regenerating health or health packs is as crucial a decision as the sauce is to the pasta. “Chef” designers and chefs share the same profound passion for their creations despite knowing their work requires consumption by strangers. They must be able to accept and utilize feedback without abandoning their individual tastes and instincts. Success, for them, is measured by the audience’s willingness to support future efforts; not just a second serving of the same thing.
Happiness is tricky to define. While it’s true that meth and other drugs are completely different animals in terms of literally, chemically cranking up the dopamine, many F2P games seek to replicate the effect. Once a game mechanic is seen as successful i.e. flinging things into other things, unscrupulous developers seek to replicate that rush as cheaply as possible as fast as possible. Look no further than the countless clones in app stores for proof that the meth cook designer just wants to hook players.
But like the culinary artist, a true game designer is not satisfied with fleeting highs. Flavors, textures and aromas accent each other in pursuit of balance, from which the satisfaction of a great meal is derived. So too is a game more than the individual mechanics within it. Rather than intentionally leaving players wanting more, the chef has a vision for a complete experience that the consumer consumes however they want.
The entire concept, structure, and economy of most F2P games are designed around one core goal: get ‘em hooked. And if that’s not bad enough, this philosophy of addiction is seeping into our most beloved game developers. Bungie, the studio behind Halo and the much anticipated Destiny, has an employee whose job title is Investment Designer. His job is to add features and mechanics that manipulate players into feeling obligated to play continuously. Sound familiar?
But if the focus is making a game that is satisfying, such manipulation is unnecessary. Satisfaction does not exclude the desire to replay repeatedly. Instead, it changes the reasoning for continued play from need to desire. Real games give players satisfaction in the playing of the game, not just the winning. Adding microtransactions for stat-boosting items that A) are earnable through play and B) make winning easier proves that the journey to earning said items in-game is not enjoyable. If the grind is fun, why pay to skip it? If the grind isn’t fun, why include it in the game at all?
There is no denying that $60 per game is a barrier to entry for many. For most large publishers, F2P is the future. Right now, the free League of Legends is more popular than even the Call of Duty franchise, which has topped Xbox Live charts for years. In the next few years, we can expect to see addicting F2P mechanics become extremely prevalent and even popular. My hope is that gamers reject such mechanics in favor of what I call Free-to-Love.
Free-to-Love (F2L) games are complete, balanced, and devoid of financial manipulation. They build monetization around giving players opportunities to show their love, their allegiance, and faith to the game and its developers. Donations, crowd-funded content, cosmetic items, and even boosts towards earning cosmetic items are proven ways current F2L games work (think Team Fortress 2). While there are many more as-yet undiscovered ways to monetize a F2L game, the meth cooks of F2P will be hard at work trying to manipulate and addict us with more maniacal schemes.
The most important thing to remember is that how and why we pay for our hobby is ultimately up to us. As F2P mechanics infect our most beloved franchises, we must ask ourselves: Are we paying (and playing) out of love or something else?
Two types of meal-like games come to mind: The Witcher 2 and Journey.
The Witcher 2, with its branching narrative, is a game about consequences. My first playthrough was a complete and seemingly unique experience. Upon completion, I could not wait to play again and see the different consequences of making different decisions. The designers’ vision was not to hook me on the mechanic of making decisions, rather they sought to give players interesting outcomes that made the decision-making process worthwhile.
Journey, on the other hand, is a game that I only played once. It was a singular experience achieved cooperatively with a complete stranger that bordered on euphoria. Having had such a transformative experience, I never felt the need to recreate it. Instead, I eagerly await the next creation from That Game Company knowing it will be a totally different experience.
Both of these games would be seen as failures to an F2P designer. They are too complete, too holistic in their vision to allow for invasive microtransactions. The question is: Will publishers be willing to greenlight games that don’t have built-in means of squeezing extra money from supporters?
Blood Dragon can best be described as the power fantasy of a 13-year-old in 1987 who’s just watched RoboCop, The Terminator, and Predator back to back to back. As odd as it may sound, this is when the game shines. Unleashing the quad-barrel shotgun on cyber baddies, popping their heads like neon blue Gallagher watermelons, then reaching into their robo-chests to rip out their cyber hearts tickles a very peculiar part of the psyche. This tickle, deep in the lizard part of brain, is magical like when you first figured out how to masturbate. A little guilty, a lot of fun.
But when Blood Dragon attempts to be self-aware, it fails. Like someone walking in on you, self-awareness completely breaks the nostalgiabation™ this game is going for.
Blood Dragon differs from Far Cry 3 in every way except the island locale. The game’s premise is best explained by this marketing copy from Ubisoft’s website:
You are Sergeant Rex Colt: Mark IV Cyber Commando. The year is 2007 and Earth has been ravaged by a nuclear war which erupted in the ’90s. The east vs. west conflict has raged for generations, and humanity continues to struggle to progress after a disastrous decade.
This retrofuturistic dystopia perfectly encapsulates all of the “how cool would it be?” discussions held around nerdy tables of late ’80s and early ’90s middle school lunchrooms.
Blood Dragon, for the most part, holds to this tone in earnest throughout its roughly six-hour campaign. Most of the dialogue and one-liners emanating from Rex, voiced by none other than Michael Biehn (Kyle Reese in The Terminator), are funny in their adherence to the straight-to-VHS-style scriptwriting Blood Dragon pays homage to. While those get old too quickly due to a lack of time in the sound booth, their first-take feel is right at home with the theme.
Unfortunately, the game is bookended by two perfect examples of self-awareness jokes that fall flat, completely breaking the fantasy.
In the beginning, the tutorial attempts a commentary on how stupid most tutorials are. You’re locked in place, reading instructions like, “Press A to prove that you can read.” This might have been funny just once, but the bit runs on for nearly 20 minutes. I am not going to ruin this review by describing it any more. Had, say, your AI partner been trapped in the tutorial while you went off killing bad guys, the joke would have landed easier.
During a turret sequence near the end the game tries self-awareness again, and fails—again . While the setup for the sequence is pure awesome, the dialogue goes meta. The turret has a built-in Cortana-esque AI that gives a sort of ironically gung-ho voiceover to your unbridled bullet storm. This unnecessary distraction peaks with the line, “Genocide is fun!” In the attempt to jolt the player into an empathetic epiphany, the game intrudes on an otherwise safe place to explore and enjoy the fantasy of saving the world from the bad guys.
This leads to the bigger point. I have the same advice for the designers who added these winks as I do for the 13-year -old inside them: just be yourself. Had Blood Dragon stayed true to its refreshingly unironic commitment to being a fun, over-the-top shooter experience, I would have no reservations calling it a game of the year contender.
Because, missteps aside, creative director Dean Evans has given us a glorious love letter to his childhood, and it allows us into his brain as only games can. Every person on the team deserves recognition for coming together behind such an outrageous idea. My hope is that it inspires other publishers to greenlight similar creative expansions.
The nostalgiabation™ alone warrants my wholehearted recommendation to go buy Blood Dragon. Far Cry 3‘s near-perfect Predator-sim mechanics ground the game in fun, while the neon glow and synth beats take you back to a future that never happened. It’s sophomoric fun that, despite winking at the camera too often, exemplifies how much we all just want to blow shit up—with lasers.
I pick up the box and walk to a chalk square in the dirt. An unnaturally straight shadow moves too quickly across the ground. I drop the box and it clunks down heavily; the square glows white.
When I look up, there’s a house floating next to the ledge where I’m standing. I pick up the next box, this time watching as another house is uprooted. I place the boxes—and by extension the houses—in a row, creating a bridge, and I cross.
I, and probably most English-speaking folks with a little Spanish knowledge who picked up Papo & Yo, immediately assumed the game was about Dad and Me. Of course, I knew that “papo” was only similar to “papa” and that the actual Spanish word for father is padre, but that didn’t stop me.
When the game starts with the main character, Quico, huddling in a closet, a monster storming angrily past the slatted door, it was confirmed. This game is about a traumatic father-son relationship. That being said, I had no inkling of where Papo & Yo would eventually lead me, and the final sequence is equally surreal and devastating.
It’s hard to say anything about this game because it feels so intensely personal, and so absolutely not mine. Video games are typically about immersion and offer an escape from reality. Papo & Yo, on the surface, is a reality-breaking puzzle platformer. However, like the books of Murakami or Calvino, the nature of the game’s magical realism serves only to distill complex human situations into poignant vignettes.
Rather than having escaped reality, I had been unceremoniously and uncomfortably thrust into someone else’s. I knew immediately that Papo & Yo was built on someone else’s real-life experience—and that it wasn’t supposed to be comfy.
The game is not hard, at least not mechanically. The puzzles are easily solvable and hint boxes help out if you do get stuck. This, the juxtaposition between “so easy it feels like a kid’s game” play and serious emotional plot content, distinctly stuck out and helped break immersion. (A good thing in this case, I think.) Still, the game has its—literally—magic moments, which shine as reminders of the ways games can break all the rules of the real world.
In the end, I sat staring blankly. I didn’t want to play again, because the first playthrough so completely drove home its point. For about 10 minutes, I had nothing to say about it. What could I? The story belongs to its creator, the man who lived it, and it needs to be played to be felt.
After my mind extricated itself from that knot of emotion, it wandered back to the gameplay itself and the magic of the fantasy world. From the moment Quico dived through the closet wall into the magical realm, I was driven not only by my desire to unravel the Monster, but also the wonder of each new and splendid trick.
A glowing white key drawn in chalk protrudes from the side of a house. It’s the kind of key you use to crank one of those old-fashioned wind-up toys. I turn it.
The house sprouts wings and takes flight, landing atop another house several yards away. I collect the rest of the winged houses into a tall stack. I pull the lever and the house-stack bends down, creating a bridge, and I cross.
Summary: Papo & Yo creates an interesting juxtaposition between childlike exploration and creativity and serious emotional content. The puzzles are enjoyable but not difficult, and play is driven by the sense of wonder at the magic of it all—and the intense desire to know what will happen to Quico and Monster. It’s a short game (you can probably beat it in less than three hours), but still worth every penny. It’ll make you wish more games took advantage of the medium’s potential to not just create realistic or fantastic worlds, but to combine the two and bring magical realism (my favorite literary genre) to life.
Also play: Antichamber, Perspective.
When one of his pieces receives praise, a writer knows exactly what to do next: the exact same thing. It’s a pretty solid truism of our media culture right now that success means sequels, prequels, reboots, and novelizations. So when I received praise for my Virtue of Single-Mindedness post, I knew I had to do a follow-up.
In the original, I talked about the accumulation of backlog thanks to the “gotta play ‘em all” pressure gamers can feel, and how there’s something admirable about the gamer who focuses on one game and really enjoys it. In the sequel, I want to talk about the other half of the equation: the focus of the games we’re choosing to play.
I’ve done a significant amount of thinking over the past couple of weeks regarding what I want from the games I play. First I thought I wanted my games to have meaning and significance, but I quickly realized that wasn’t universally applicable. I worked my way down to one thing all games should do: keep their eyes on the prize.
One of the most important things about a game is how it and the player interact, and another is its core intent. When a game gets distracted and unfocused, it breaks not only the immersion necessary for intuitive interactive performance but also the link between the creator’s stated purpose and the message the final product conveys. At an elemental level, a lot of negative reactions toward games—mine included—seem to stem from this double breakage.
I now think that when I wrote games should have better stories and more authorship, what I really meant was games that want to tell a story need to do that and nothing else. But not every game needs to be that. I was hoping to find my perfect game, the one that sated all my personal gaming desires. Now I realize that I was just opening myself up to dissatisfaction, because no game could possibly do everything and do it well.
So I resolved to play and praise games that are singular in vision and execution. Super Meat Boy and Super Hexagon are great examples. These games are simple and to the point. They are meant to be difficult, frustrating machines of near-constant failure tempered with brief moments of transcendent glory. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.
Games don’t have to be small to do this well. Borderlands and its sequel are great examples of single-minded large games. There’s a lot going on, but it’s all built around looting and leveling up to get better loot. It gives the player exactly what it says it will: “the grand, loot-filled adventure you’ve been waiting for.” I don’t mind if it’s all counting XP and grinding, because that’s what I signed up for when I bought it.
As a player, identifying a game’s core purpose and adjusting expectations to match has helped me get more enjoyment from games I might previously have dismissed for not being serious enough, self-aware enough, meaningful enough, etc. So stop worrying about finding the One Game to rule them all and learn to love each game for the one thing it does well. It’ll be fun.
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