Dragon's Heaven- Cult Manga Film Review

I had heard about Dragon’s Heaven - an OVA that was apparently incredibly expensive due to hubris and arrogance of the director involved. Makoto Kobayashi was heavily influenced by the work of Moebius and Hayao Miyazaki's early output - especially Nausicaä - and it shows in this quirky and unique OAV that could only have been a product of Japan's Bubble Economy.

This is a tale about two robots who battle across the sands of time, in conflict for over a thousand years. When our robot protagonist SHAIAN is damaged in a battle, he rests to recover, only to wake up to a very different world. People are eking out a living in harsh conditions, but the war is still going on and his enemy, Elmedain, is still out there. Luckily, he meets Ikiru, a strong-willed and charismatic teen orphan who agrees to help end the war and defeat Elmedain.

I really enjoyed this animation as it shares the same sense of creative audacity as The Thief and the Cobbler, which took three decades and an innumerable number of artists to nearly complete. But man, what a vision and idea! It's good to reach for the stars and push the boundaries of what's possible. The fact that the first five minutes are all done with practical models, lighting, and effects is mind-blowing; while it looks quite amateur now, it would have looked awesome at the time, I'm sure. The character of Ikiru is also well done, as she seems to be a woman of agency who steps up, has her own mind, and says what she thinks. She's flirty with SHAIAN and makes him uncomfortable at times, which is a real power move.

Overall, I highly recommend this 30-minute OAV as it is a true oddball piece of filmmaking and animation.

The Untold History of Japanese Game Developers: Volume 3 - Book Review

Japan has an incredibly rich video game history, yet it has rarely been documented in depth—neither in the West nor in its home country. While myriad books discuss the industry’s legacy, they often adopt a Western viewpoint, focusing on the impact of gaming in the Americas and Europe (such as David Sheff’s Game Over, Blake Harris’s Console Wars or Chris Kohler’s Power Up).

With so many legendary Japanese developers entering their later years, it is a case of "now or never" to record these stories for posterity. Retro video game journalist and historian S.M.G. Szczepaniak - who has written for publications including Retro Gamer and Gamasutra - launched a Kickstarter for this ambitious endeavor in 2015. His goal was to pull back the curtain on the often-secretive Japanese development scene.

After completing Volumes 1 and 2, Szczepaniak returns for Volume 3. In a raw foreword, he details the immense personal and financial toll the project has taken. The books had not been profitable, and he describes a harrowing ordeal involving doxxing, sabotage, and blackmail from online trolls. It sounded like a genuine nightmare; one cannot help but feel sympathy for him, even if his occasionally prickly attitude had reportedly strained some professional relationships. Regardless, by capturing this firsthand documentation, Szczepaniak has ensured the history of the Japanese industry is preserved. This work grants him a legacy that will outlast his current hardships.

Beyond the author’s personal travails, the book is packed with knowledge bombs spread across 35 interviews. Szczepaniak’s deep reserve of knowledge makes him an expert interviewer, capable of opening up a traditionally closed industry. This volume was particularly illuminating for me, as it features interviews regarding Technosoft, Squaresoft, Enix and other legendary names that defined my youth.

Highlights and Key Takeaways:

  • Henk Rogers (of Tetris fame) is a skilled gemstone cutter who once almost drowned while surfing in Hawaii. He now runs a green energy business with plans for terraforming the moon.

  • Yuichi Toyama pushed for cutscenes in M.U.S.H.A. because he was a massive Gundam fan and loved the drama of those manga-style shows.

  • Developers from Technosoft and Compile hint at significant behind-the-scenes animosity between management and staff, explaining the frequent staff shuffling between companies during that era.

  • The Naikon Zoku were a subculture of computer-less hobbyists who coded games on display computers in department stores, saving them onto punch paper. Because computers cost roughly £1,500 in 1984, this was a thriving fandom; some middle-schoolers from this scene were actually offered professional jobs at Compile.

  • Technosoft was financially stable, but the mainstream success of Thunder Force II, III, and IV brought intense pressure and fan expectation for every subsequent sequel.

  • The first level of Thunder Force V was originally designed for the Mega Drive, but production moved to the Saturn and PlayStation to better utilize 3D polygons.

  • Kotori Yoshimura, a coding genius behind Thunder Force, transitioned after surgery and continues to have a successful, well-regarded career in the industry.

  • Former Technosoft employee Naosuke Arai describes head of development Tomio Ozono as a shy, misunderstood man whose social struggles were often mistaken for arrogance.

  • The SNES shooter BioMetal was one of the first games to feature licensed music—specifically from the techno band 2 Unlimited.

  • Manabu Yamana (coder for Dragon Quest) believes Metroid was inspired by the Apple II game Aztec, noting similarities in the gameplay and the design of Ridley.

  • Takashi Tokita (Final Fantasy IV, Chrono Trigger) recalled that during a sound-mix bug in FFIV, the team wasn't allowed to go home—or shower—for days until it was resolved.

  • Live A Live and Chrono Trigger were produced concurrently.

  • Hironobu Sakaguchi (Final Fantasy) decided to adapt Parasite Eve after reading the novel. Square opened an American studio to handle the CG, moving the game's setting to New York to help the US team ground it in reality.

  • Tokita believes the fields of manga, anime, and video games are unique in Japan because they were "industries formed by young people getting together and creating whatever they wanted."

  • Aziz Hinoshita (formerly of Square) notes that in the late 2000s, the Japanese industry was obsessed with selling to the West, which led to the infamous US Ico box art and the poorly received Ninja Gaiden 3.

  • Yosuke Hayashi (Team Ninja) used a great analogy: "It seems like we made a Japanese hamburger for the West. As a Japanese developer, we need to make good Japanese food... we’re going to offer you damn good sushi."

  • Kouichi Yotsui (Strider) predicted the Mighty No. 9 Kickstarter disaster, noting the "gulf between one’s fame and one’s actual ability."

  • Toshinari Oka (Metal Gear 2) recalled Konami company outings to play laser tag (Quazar). Everyone used nicknames; Hideo Kojima, naturally, called himself "Snake."

  • Youji Ishii (Sega) revealed that for OutRun research, he and Yu Suzuki drove a BMW 3 Series (not a red Ferrari) from Frankfurt to Rome over three weeks. He still has the VHS tapes to prove it.

  • Yutaka Sugano (Shinobi, Sonic Adventure) is actually a trained mining engineer.

  • Naoto Ohshima (Sonic) claims an acapella tape of Michael Jackson humming tunes for Sonic 3 exists somewhere in the Sega archives.

  • Kotaro Hayashida (Alex Kidd) revealed the character was created after they lost the Dragon Ball license; they originally intended for the protagonist to be Goku.

  • Mark Cerny helped develop the Master System’s 3D glasses at the Sega Technical Institute.

  • Yasuhide Kobayashi (Ico, Shadow of the Colossus) predicted in 2013 that game-only hardware would eventually phase out as users lost interest in dedicated machines.

  • Konami is notorious for its "aggressive patents," including one for the camera logic that makes walls invisible in 3D games. This patent is often cited as the reason many Japanese games had disorienting camera angles during the 2000s.

  • Street Fighter II cabinets cost £820 to make, and Capcom sold 144,000 units. In 1992, the Champion Edition made $257 million for Capcom, but generated a staggering $1.63 billion in arcade coin revenue.

  • An anonymous Microsoft Japan source claimed the company hired middle managers from Konami who "moaned about their old jobs" rather than being creative, leading to mass layoffs.

  • Hironobu Sakaguchi reportedly spent over $10,000 in one night at a hostess club, prompting Microsoft to institute a $200-per-person entertainment limit worldwide.

  • Yu Suzuki had a windowless "throne room" in the Sega building where Enya music played on a loop. He once pitched an idea to Microsoft execs for a version of Swan Lake featuring heavy metal music.

For the Love of the Art: A Reflection on Look Back and the Joy of Creation

I recently saw the anime OVA Look Back and it got me thinking about my elder daughter. The OVA tells the story of Fujino, a young girl with a singular burning ambition: to be a manga-ka. Her world is shaken when she encounters a rival, Kyomoto—a shut-in who doesn't attend school but possesses a staggering natural talent. Initially envious, Fujino eventually finds a kindred spirit in Kyo. They combine their strengths and eventually land a shot at a professional serial.

However, growth often leads to change and when Kyo decides to attend Art School to break out of her reclusive shell, there is a painful falling out. The two separate and lose touch until a tragic event forces a reunion.

The film uses a touch of "timey-wimey" magic - reincarnation and timeslips - to explore themes of regret, the "what ifs" of past friendships, and the healing power of an all-consuming passion. It is a sweet, emotional reminder of how art can bridge the gaps between us.

This story hit home for me because my eldest daughter is a massive comic nerd with the exact same aspirations. I’ve been a collector since I was eight, building a library that spans from the whimsy of The Lumberjanes and Squirrel Girl to the heavy hitters of the Vertigo line like The Sandman and Preacher. By proxy, she has become an enthusiast of the graphic novel form and, as she matures, I’ve enjoyed curating her reading - recommending gems from my collection while she carves out her own tastes. She gravitates toward titles like Hilda, The Plain Janes, and those unique Minx graphic novels. While she loves established series like Bunny vs. Monkey or Looshkin, she has found her own quirky, distinct voice when she puts pen to paper.

There’s something magical about seeing that all-consuming passion from the movie manifest in real life. Here are a few of the comics she has created and sold from the stoop gallery at her grandpa’s house—right on the path to the local tourist beach. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have:

Indiana Jones and the Great Circle - Videogames As Art

I have a huge amount of affection for the Indiana Jones series (excepting Crystal Skull—that was pure trash), but the videogames have always been a bit hit-or-miss. Mostly miss. So, when I heard MachineGames - the folks behind the brilliant Wolfenstein reboot - were taking the reins, I was genuinely excited.

Being on PS5, I had to wait out the Xbox exclusivity window, but I bought it the moment it dropped. After installing a massive 132 GB download from a disc that felt like a glorified keycard, I finally dove in. The awe and wonder of the films were plain to see: the locales are breathtaking, the puzzles are surprisingly deep, and the voice acting is spot on.

I clocked the game in about 20 hours, and below are some of my favorite moments from the journey. Enjoy!

The Strange Works of Yoko Taro: From Drakengard to NieR: Automata - Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

Yoko Taro is a true auteur. He produces singular, philosophical video games that leave you questioning the big questions: life, the universe, and everything in between. While he occasionally appears on the publicity circuit, he does so famously wearing a giant Emil moon mask to hide his face. So, when I discovered there was a dedicated book exploring this enigmatic creator, I knew I had to pick it up.

Emil’s face is quite a startling visage but is the guise Taro wears for interviews.

The book opens with an introduction by Taro himself, where he expresses a characteristically dry surprise at being the subject of such a work. He playfully questions the sanity of the author before rolling with it in his usual philosophical style:

"In the end, we find ourselves in the following situation: some eccentric wrote a book on games designed by another eccentric and played by people who are equally eccentric. Frankly, I worry about the future of our planet."

Preface

We are treated to a short history of games as an essential pillar of human development, referencing Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Turcev argues that games represent the world more clearly than the world represents itself because they strip away the "background noise" of reality to isolate meaning.

While most popular games focus on the visceral thrill of violence, Turcev argues that Taro stands out because his work is inherently existential. The author suggests that Taro "...perceives entertainment as a hope, a horizon, a bulwark against evil." He even goes as far as to say that by creating these games, Taro is "trying to save the world." I’m not sure I’d go quite that far, but it’s certainly a provocative thought to ponder while slashing through robots.

Chapter 1: Creation

This chapter provides essential context on the Japanese gaming industry in the early 2000s—a landscape of economic stagnation and studio mergers. It was during this period of consolidation that the idea for Drakengard was born: Ace Combat, but with dragons.

We get a brief, self-deprecating biography of Taro, who describes himself as a "dark, short otaku" who wasn't exactly part of the "in-crowd." This outsider perspective clearly fueled his writing, which often explores the dangers of tribalism. The development of Drakengard was a struggle; feature creep from management pushed a modest team to their breaking point. The result was a buggy, glitchy mess, yet it possessed a spark of something special—a mature, complex story influenced by Evangelion and Berserk.

The book then tracks the series' evolution through the 2008 economic crisis, leading to the original NieR. Taro’s inspiration for NieR was the aftermath of the September 11th attacks—the idea that killing often stems from a conviction that one is doing the right thing. This led to the game's famous multiple-ending structure, which forces players to view the conflict from the perspective of their enemies. I’ve linked a couple of videos below that explain the story and themes of the Nier games in detail (all credit goes to their awesome creator)

Chapter 2: Music – Monaca’s Angels

The soundtrack to NieR: Automata sold over 30,000 copies in its first week, catapulting composer Keiichi Okabe into the spotlight. As someone who owns the vinyl boxset (the jewel of my collection), I appreciated the focus here. Turcev notes that JRPG soundtracks are often more scrutinized because players spend dozens of hours immersed in them.

We learn about Okabe’s background in pop music and his work on Tekken, and how he teamed up with the Monaca collective to create a sound that is poppy yet baroque. A major highlight is the discussion of the "Chaos Language" used by singers Emi Evans and Nami Nakagawa. By using a made-up language, the music transmits pure emotion directly to the listener, unburdened by the specific meaning of words.

Chapter 3: Universe

Taro’s worlds are a pell-mell of medieval fantasy, sci-fi, eugenics, and otaku culture. Interestingly, the book notes that much of this was built on vibes and floating ideas rather than a rigid master plan—much like Hideaki Anno’s approach to Evangelion.

The book dedicates over 100 pages to breaking down the interconnected lore of Drakengard and NieR. Even for a fan, the Gestalt and Replicant projects can be a headache, but Turcev’s retelling clarified several points I hadn't thought about in 15 years. It was a joy to revisit characters like Kainé; her foul-mouthed, aggressive exterior remains one of the most memorable character designs in gaming history.

Chapter 4: Analysis

In the final section, Turcev peels back the trickster persona Taro adopts in public. He argues that Taro is a humanist at heart who believes games can influence the real world. His work isn't mature because of the blood or the character designs, but because he puts his characters under extreme pressure to unveil truths about the human condition.

Turcev uses the Socratic maieutic method to describe Taro’s style: breaking and converging perspectives until the player reaches an aporia—an intense dilemma where there is no easy right answer. We see this through the lens of various philosophers:

  • Freud: The struggle between Life and Death drives.

  • Gestalt Psychology: How society functions as a system that dominates the individual.

  • Sartre & Camus: The struggle for meaning in a deterministic world.

Final Thoughts

Nicolas Turcev has done an incredible job of synthesizing the chaos of Taro’s career into something academic yet accessible. The Strange Works of Taro Yoko is more than just a making-of book; it is an interrogation of why we play games and what they say about our soul.

Whether you are a person who has played every ending, or a newcomer who just liked the combat in Automata, this book offers a profound look at a creator who dares to use a "silly" medium to ask the most difficult questions. It reminded me that even in a world that feels like a never-ending spiral of life and death, there is beauty in the struggle—the Agaku. If you’ve ever finished a Taro game and sat in silence as the credits rolled, wondering what it all meant, this book is the companion you’ve been looking for.

LINK: Videogames As Art - Nier: Automata

LINK: The Evolving Fears of a Horror Gamer

LINK: The Power of Stories and How They Are Manipulated

LINK: The Message by Ta-Nahisi Coates - Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: The Anxious Generation: Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK: Toxic: Women, Fame and the Noughties- Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: Pure Invention: How Japan's Pop Culture Conquered the World- Book Review (and Personal Reflections)

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK: Blood, Sweat and Pixels- Book Review

Red Sonja - Cult Film Review

I have a real affection for the classic sword-and-sorcery genre, having grown up on a diet of Harryhausen fare. However, good recent films have been more difficult to find. Could the latest iteration of Red Sonja be a robust addition to the genre? There was only one way to find out!

Many people might know of the character only as offshoot of the Conan mythos, or through the lens of Brigitte Nielsen’s 1980s portrayal. While her iconic aesthetic remains a staple of the character's identity -retaining its legendary, if historically unprotective, visual flair - this version focuses more on the internal evolution of the warrior beneath the armor.

The narrative follows a classic trajectory, beginning with the destruction of Sonja's village and her subsequent quest for vengeance against a King driven by the pursuit of a sacred MacGuffin. This ancient book of secret knowledge serves as the primary catalyst for a journey that eventually sees Sonja captured and thrust into a brutal colosseum. Throughout the nearly two-hour runtime, the film meticulously tracks her transformation from a vulnerable child of the forest into a respected commander of the arena. This progression feels earned; the script allows her the space to develop the tactical and emotional resilience required to lead her fellow warriors into battle.

The success of this arc is largely due to the central performances, particularly that of Matilda Lutz. Lutz demonstrates a rare ability to anchor high-octane stunt sequences with a soulful, quiet intensity. Her kinetic expressiveness allows her to convey a complex history of trauma and survival through body language and gaze alone, ensuring that her prowess in the action scenes feels like a natural extension of her character rather than mere choreography.

Opposite her, Robert Sheehan provides a masterclass in unpredictable charisma. Sheehan has always possessed a fluid, high-energy magnetism—as seen in his early breakout in Misfits—that allows him to inhabit outsider roles with ease. He maintains a unique ability to shift between comedic absurdity and genuine sincerity. The animosity between their characters feels authentic and grounded, providing the film with an emotional core that keeps the audience invested in their shared destiny.

Overall, the film succeeds because it understands its own identity as a well-shot and thoughtfully scripted romp. It doesn't aim for the existential depth of a filmmaker like Kieslowski; instead, it embraces the value of a high-energy, "smashy-bashy" adventure. It captures much of the same joyful, adventurous spirit found in the recent Dungeons & Dragons film, albeit with a much leaner budget and a less recognizable ensemble. For those seeking a fun, escapist experience that respects both its lead character and its genre roots, this film serves as a reminder that a well-executed action movie can be both thrilling and deeply satisfying.

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK: The Argument for Videogames As Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction

LINK: Akira Soundtrack Vinyl Review

LINK: The Power of Stories and How They Are Manipulated

LINK: The Message by Ta-Nahisi Coates - Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: The Anxious Generation: Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK: Toxic: Women, Fame and the Noughties- Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

The 13 Best Episodes of Batman: The Animated Series

Long before the gritty realism of modern blockbusters, there was a rainy, Art Deco-inspired version of Gotham City that defined the Caped Crusader for an entire generation, including me. Batman: The Animated Series wasn’t like many other animated shows at the time; it elevated the superhero genre to the level of high-concept noir.

By treating its villains with tragic humanity and its hero with psychological depth, the show became a timeless masterpiece. Whether you are a lifelong fan or a newcomer to the Dark Deco world, I believe that these thirteen episodes represent the absolute peak of the series. See if you agree…


13. Harley and Ivy

While many episodes focus on the Joker, Harley and Ivy allows Harley Quinn to step out of his shadow. This episode establishes the iconic partnership between Harley and Poison Ivy, grounded in a shared desire to prove they don’t need a man to run Gotham. It is a perfect blend of comedy and tragedy; Harley’s bubbly optimism is the perfect foil for Ivy’s cynical, plant-focused misanthropy, highlighting the "Stockholm Syndrome" that keeps Harley tethered to the Joker despite her immense potential.


12. Robin’s Reckoning

The show’s two-parters are legendary, but Robin’s Reckoning is perhaps the most personal. By weaving Dick Grayson’s tragic circus origin with a modern-day hunt for his parents' killer, the episode explores the friction between Batman’s protective nature and Robin’s need for closure. It is a heartbreaking look at how revenge and anger connect the Dynamic Duo, proving that Robin was always more than just a sidekick.


11. Legends of the Dark Knight

A beautiful love letter to the character’s history, this episode follows three kids as they tell their own versions of who "The Batman" is. We see a vibrant, 1950s Dick Sprang-inspired romp and a gritty, brutal adaptation of Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns. It is a masterclass in visual style that celebrates the incredible versatility of the Batman mythos.


10. The Grey Ghost

This episode features a meta-casting stroke of genius: Adam West voicing Simon Trent, an aging actor who played Bruce Wayne’s childhood hero, the Grey Ghost. Beyond the nostalgia, it adds a poignant layer to Batman’s origin, showing us where Bruce found the inspiration for his theatricality. Hearing Adam West’s iconic voice interact with Kevin Conroy’s Batman is a dream for any fan, even if we never got to hear him call Batman his "old chum."


9. Growing Pains

Growing Pains is a stark reminder that this series never talked down to its audience. When Tim Drake tries to save a mysterious runaway named Annie, he finds himself in a tragic story about identity and parental abuse. The revelation that Annie is merely a "scout" created by Clayface is one of the most chilling and depressing moments in the series. It is a brutal lesson for Robin: sometimes, there are no happy endings.

I’ve put the most memorable scene below as I think it is peak animation from TMS, who had their input in many classic animated shows.


8. Showdown

Generally, it’s a bad sign when Batman barely appears in his own show, but Showdown is an exception. Using a steampunk Western setting, the episode features Jonah Hex hunting the immortal Ra's al Ghul’s son. It validates Ra’s’s claims of immortality by showing us his history rather than just telling us, humanizing the villain while expanding the scope of the DC Animated Universe in a way that feels epic and earned.


7. Almost Got ‘Im

Unquestionably one of the most beloved episodes, Almost Got ‘Im inverts the traditional formula. The villains—Joker, Penguin, Two-Face, Poison Ivy, and Killer Croc—sit around a poker table swapping stories about the times they nearly killed the Bat. It is witty, stylish, and features one of the best "reveal" sequences in animation history. It captures the perfect blend of genuine danger and lighthearted fun.


6. Harlequinade

If you want to understand the breakout appeal of Harley Quinn, watch Harlequinade. Batman is forced to team up with Harley to stop the Joker from detonating an atomic bomb. The "buddy-cop" dynamic between Batman’s grim exasperation and Harley’s giddy enthusiasm is comedy gold, capped off by a genuinely hilarious (yet disturbing) musical number. It allows a minor character to shine in a way that was previously unheard of in superhero animation.


5. The Man Who Killed Batman

This episode explores a fascinating "high concept" plot: what happens to Gotham when Batman is seemingly killed by a low-level, "lemon-shaped" goon named Sid the Squid? The highlight is the Joker’s reaction. His genuine grief and subsequent rage that a "nobody" ended his greatest rivalry adds immense depth to his character. It builds Batman into a mythical, terrifying figure by showing him entirely through the eyes of the criminals he hunts.


4. Heart of Ice

The Emmy-winning Heart of Ice took a "joke" villain—Mr. Freeze—and turned him into a Shakespearean tragedy. Paul Dini and Bruce Timm reimagined Victor Fries as a man driven by the frozen, desperate love for his wife, Nora. It is a haunting exploration of loss and the emotional numbness that follows. This remains the definitive version of the character across all media.


3. Two-Face

The tragedy of Harvey Dent works because the show took the time to establish him as Bruce Wayne’s friend first. This two-part origin isn't just a superhero fight; it is a psychological breakdown. Watching a good man lose his battle with his inner demons is gut-wrenching, especially when Batman realizes that this is one friend he cannot save with a Batarang or a gadget.


2. Over the Edge

This episode lives up to its title. It begins with the death of Batgirl and spirals into a "worst-case scenario" where Jim Gordon declares war on Batman, Wayne Manor is raided, and the Bat-family is dismantled. Even though the "all a dream" trope usually feels cheap, here it works as a profound exploration of Barbara Gordon’s deepest fears and the emotional danger of the deceptive life she leads.


1. The Demon’s Quest

The Demon’s Quest is the ultimate Batman adventure. A perfect translation of the classic Neal Adams and Denny O'Neil comics, it takes Batman out of Gotham and onto the global stage. It has everything: exotic locations, detective work, a doomed romance with Talia al Ghul, and a shirtless sword duel in the desert. It defines Batman not just as a vigilante, but as a world-class hero who chooses his mission over his own happiness. It is, quite simply, the series at its absolute best.

The enduring legacy of Batman: The Animated Series lies in its refusal to compromise. It balanced the spectacular with the somber, proving that a "kids' show" could tackle themes of loss, identity, and the moral gray areas of justice with the sophistication of a prestige drama. These thirteen episodes aren't just great animation; they are some of the best stories ever told about the Dark Knight.

Bayonetta - Videogames As Art

I originally purchased Bayonetta on the Xbox 360 back in the day but it remained unplayed through several subsequent re-purchases on various platforms until I finally sat down to complete it recently. The experience was a revelation; the game by Platinum is undeniably beautiful, trading standard realism for a lavish explosion of gold, feathers, and flowing hair that makes every frame feel like a deliberate piece of art. Its unique grace and celestial architecture prove that bold, stylized direction remains timeless, turning what could have been a simple action game into a hauntingly elegant visual spectacle. It is a masterclass in gothic maximalism, blending high-fashion couture sensibilities with a grotesque, Renaissance-inspired reimagining of the angelic hierarchy. Here are screenshots of my playthrough.

Timeslip- Cult TV Series Review

I’ve always loved 'wibbly wobbly, timey wimey' stories. The concept of time travel can be used to tell tales whimsically, as seen in Tom’s Midnight Garden; spookily, as in Moondial; or even existentially, in the vein of Dark. It can even be a combination of all three, like Doctor Who. Whichever way it is utilized, if done right, it’s a brilliant concept. So, when I heard about the 1970s children’s show Timeslip—a 26-episode saga split into four serials—I was immediately intrigued.

The narrative begins when the impulsive, feisty Liz Skinner and the cautious, intellectual Simon Randall stumble upon a shimmering 'time barrier' in the English countryside. This invisible portal acts as a gateway to a naval research station in World War II. As they grapple with historical dangers and looming threats, Liz and Simon rely on their contrasting personalities and a fair bit of luck to navigate the timeline and find their way home.

Actors Cheryl Burfield and Spencer Banks are very good and not at all patronising to the young audience.

Concepts like time bubbles and non-linear worlds are explored, throwing surprisingly heady scientific ideas at the audience for a youth-oriented program. I really liked the show; it moved at a fair click, the child actors were impressive, and the adult cast never talked down to the characters or the viewers. I just watched the first series but will look into the other three when I get the time (and inclination)

Overall, it was a compelling journey that proved intelligence and imagination can make for truly timeless television.

LINK- Dead of Night: Cult TV Review

LINK- The Stone Tapes: Cult TV Review

LINK- Tom’s Midnight Garden: Cult TV Review

LINK- Children of the Dogstar: Cult TV Series Review

LINK- The Moomins 80's Soundtrack Vinyl Review

LINK- Inspector Gadget Retro Soundtrack Review

LINK- Ulysses 31 Retro Soundtrack Review

LINK- The Mysterious Cities of Gold Retro Soundtrack Review

21 Years of the PSP - A Retrospective

As the Sony PlayStation Portable turns twenty-one this year, I thought it would be an opportune time to reflect on the device that shifted portable gaming expectations. In an era where handhelds were largely defined by Nintendo’s utilitarian aesthetics, the PSP arrived as a sleek, sophisticated monolith. It promised a semi-PS2 visual experience in the palm of your hand and fundamentally altered our expectations of what mobile technology could achieve—four years before the iPhone and App Store released and changed everything.

I remember the impact of seeing a friend’s unit for the first time; a relative had given him an imported model brought over from America. Back then, handling an imported console felt like dealing with a rare artifact from the future—it just didn't happen, until it did. Holding the device, the contrast against the original, utilitarian Nintendo DS (which was frankly ugly until the refreshed Lite arrived a couple of years later) was stark. The PSP boasted a premium black shell that exuded luxury and a widescreen display that, to our eyes, appeared to be high-definition LCD perfection. It was a device that demanded to be taken seriously and left me blown away.

This impression was immediately cemented by its launch software: Ridge Racer! This was not merely a racing game; it was a statement of intent, running with a fluidity and visual fidelity that had previously been restricted to living room televisions. The system’s library quickly expanded to include technical marvels that defined the generation. Wipeout Pure demonstrated the hardware's capacity for futuristic speed and style, while Lumines offered a mesmerizing fusion of light and sound. Franchises like God of War and Syphon Filter successfully translated complex, cinematic gameplay to a portable format, and Final Fantasy: Crisis Core delivered a narrative and visual depth that remains impressive to this day. Meanwhile, original titles like LocoRoco and Patapon proved that the system could produce unique and quirky ideas to rival Nintendo.

However, the legacy of the PSP is also complicated by rampant piracy and the innovative modding scene. With the assistance of a tech-savvy cousin, my PSP was transformed from a locked ecosystem into a gateway for international gaming. This allowed me to play unreleased titles and fan-subbed Japanese imports, bridging the cultural gap and preserving games that might otherwise have been lost to me and others here in the West.

The system also became a haven for retro gaming collections—it was where I first really played many of the Gradius titles via the Gradius Collection. Later in its life, it engaged with Minis like Angry Birds and Plants vs. Zombies, effectively bridging the gap to the modern smartphone era.

Some of my favourites on the system include: Jeanne D'Arc, Tekken: Dark Resurrection, Shadow of Memories, OutRun 2006: Coast 2 Coast, Castlevania: The Dracula X Chronicles, Burnout Legends and The 3rd Birthday.

It speaks to the enduring quality of the hardware that these devices are still in operation today—even if the UMD casings are crumbling apart and the UMD movie library is remembered as quirky and pretty awful (Viva La Bam or a couple of episodes of Lost, anyone?).

While the PSP is sometimes looked at as a folly or failure, I feel this is a massive mischaracterization. It was up against the DS, which sold at a much cheaper price point and targeted a casual, family-wide demographic. The PSP sold an impressive 80 million units; a testament to its massive appeal and commercial success.

I loved the PSP because it was a pioneer—a brave attempt to bring high-fidelity multimedia to the pocket. At twenty-one years old, it deserves to be celebrated as a triumphant piece of gaming history.

LINK- The Rise of Retro Gaming During Covid

LINK- Blood, Sweat and Pixels- Book Review

LINK- The Offworld Collection- Book Review

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK- Battle Angel Alita: And So It Ends

LINK- The Moomins 80's Soundtrack Vinyl Review

LINK- Inspector Gadget Retro Soundtrack Review

LINK- Ulysses 31 Retro Soundtrack Review

LINK- The Mysterious Cities of Gold Retro Soundtrack Review

Dragon Half - Cult Anime Review

Dragon Half, the OVA from the early 1990s, holds a peculiar, almost nostalgic, place in my memory. During this era, when anime began to truly gain traction outside of dedicated fan circles, shops like Forbidden Planet and my favourite, Rodneys Books and Games, were treasure troves for enthusiasts. It was in these establishments that I would discover new series, import manga, and immerse oneself in this burgeoning subculture. And it was in these very shops that I saw the distinctive Dragon Half cover art, featuring a half-dragon character who looked cute. Despite its persistent visibility (and the countless times I must have walked past it) Dragon Half remained unwatched by me... until now!

Dragon Half is a two-episode OVA clocking in at 50 minutes that follows the chaotic adventures of Mink, a spirited young girl who is half-human and half-dragon. Her unique lineage stems from her human father, a famed dragon slayer, and her dragon mother. Mink's main goal is to win the affection of Dick Saucer, a handsome crooning pop idol and legendary dragon slayer. To achieve this, she seeks a potion that can turn her into a full human. So far, so Little Mermaid, but her quest is complicated by the persistent pursuit of the demon king, Azetodeth, who wants to marry her, and sends his various eccentric minions to capture her.

Watching this now, I can honestly say that Dragon Half feels like a quintessential example of early 90s anime comedy, which was a period known for its unbridled absurdity and relentless pace. It doesn't bother with deep plots or character development, instead opting for pure, unadulterated hilarity. I really enjoyed the OVA as it was a relentless barrage of slapstick comedy, parody, and over-the-top gags.

The animation is vibrant and expressive, switching from super deformed chibi to an angular, stylised fantasy character design, which is perfectly suited to its comedic tone. Sure, while some of its humor might feel dated to modern viewers, its charm lies in its commitment to being as outlandish as possible. It parodies classic fantasy tropes with a gleeful disregard for convention, and its rapid-fire jokes and visual gags ensure there's rarely a dull moment.

For those who appreciate zany, no-holds-barred comedy and a nostalgic trip back to a simpler era of anime, Dragon Half is a cult classic that delivers laughs without taking itself seriously. It's a short, sweet, and utterly bonkers ride that deserves a reboot.

Videogames As Empathy Engines and How They Can Change the World

Tetrachromacy is a condition where people see the world in different colours and hues (like some posit Van Gogh possibly had). Just as a tetrachromat perceives a richer spectrum of light, or a painting profoundly moves one person while leaving another untouched, videogames resonate uniquely with each individual. Like any other art form, games aren't universally experienced; instead, we bring a part of ourselves to them. This personal connection determines which titles truly resonate deeply and leave a lasting impact.

There are many art pieces that really speak to me but some include:

Painting:

  • Dorothea Tanning - Eine Kleine Nachtmusik

  • Klimt - The Kiss

  • Van Gogh - Starry Night

  • Yoshitaka Amano - The Sandman and Terra

Comics:

  • The Sandman (before Neil Gaiman became problematic)

  • Watchmen

  • Hilda

  • Lumberjanes

  • Akira

Music:

  • Oxygène and Équinoxe Infinity - Jean-Michel Jarre

  • The Songs of Distant Earth - Mike Oldfield

  • All is Full of Love - Björk

  • Silent Shout LP - The Knife

  • Euphoria (The classic trance albums from the mid to late 90s) - Various

Animation:

  • The Mysterious Cities of Gold

  • Ulysses 31

  • Akira

  • Perfect Blue

  • Evangelion

  • Cowboy Bebop

  • Carmen Sandiego

  • Magnetic Rose (part of the Memories anthology film)

Books:

  • The Amber Spyglass (His Dark Materials) Trilogy

  • The Harry Potter Series (before J. K. Rowling became problematic)

  • The Quran

  • Anything by John Higgs, Rutger Bregman, and Reza Aslan

Films:

  • Three Colours: Red

  • Chungking Express

  • Blade Runner

  • Ikiru

I rarely let the cyclical debate of 'Are Videogames Art?' bother me, as I don't really care. However, for those who do put stock in such things, does it matter if it is defined as High or Low Art? Who defines it as such, and does it change the feelings you had when you experienced certain games?

Videogames have often battled for recognition as a legitimate art form, frequently dismissed by traditionalists who readily embrace theatre, opera, and literature. Yet, the intricate dramaturgy, compelling narratives, and immersive world-building found in many video games rival those of established artistic mediums. This inherent capacity for storytelling, coupled with their interactive nature, positions videogames as powerful agents for change, offering unique insights into societal challenges and inspiring resistance against various forms of oppression.

Like the media and art listed above, videogames are an important part of my life, but they are not my be-all, end-all. My life is more varied, holistic, and fulfilling than what is suggested by the simple label of “gamer”. I am a multifaceted person with thoughts and feelings, and games are but one art form among many that I enjoy in my full life. Their true power and value can be better understood when placed within this wider context by individuals with a comprehensive appreciation for culture. Our hobbies do not define us.

The games that I feel have stuck with me in a profound way are:

  • Brothers: A Tale of Two Sons - love and loss

  • The Walking Dead Season 1 - found family and grief

  • Ico - connection and resilience

  • Shadow of the Colossus - love, denial, and self-sacrifice

  • Nier and Nier: Automata - philosophy and the human condition

  • Journey and Abzû - spirituality and humanism

  • What Remains of Edith Finch - the interconnectedness of us all

  • Everybody's Gone to the Rapture - existential dread and cosmic bliss

  • Florence - love and nostalgia

  • Final Fantasy IV and VI - being true to yourself and fighting your programming

  • Undertale - pacifism is a viable but hard-fought option

  • Monument Valley II - paternal love

  • Venba - Family dynamics, code switching and identity

  • Decarnation - female bodily autonomy and the male gaze

The evolution of videogame creation itself has had an interesting, democratic ebb and flow. The early days of the 1980s saw a flourishing of independent 'bedroom coders' who, with limited resources, left an indelible mark on the burgeoning micro-system landscape.

The subsequent technological leap in the 1990s, driven by a push for polygons, drastically increased development costs, leading to a decline in small teams and a centralisation of power within larger studios. This era witnessed a significant contraction of the independent development scene. However, the advent of the internet, coupled with the rise of affordable game development software like Unity, RPG Maker, and Unreal Engine, has ushered in a new golden age for independent developers.

The internet has fostered vibrant online communities, enabling creators to collaborate, share ideas, and refine their skills. This resurgence has led to the emergence of numerous auteurs and small teams, producing titles such as Cave Story, Braid, and Fez, which undeniably possess artistic merit.

Furthermore, the accessibility of platforms like Steam and the App Store democratized publishing, allowing a fresh wave of games to reach global audiences without the need for traditional publishers. Sure, a considerable portion of these titles may be cheap knock-offs or derivative, but the sheer volume and diversity demonstrate a creative energy that was previously unimaginable. This ease of entry has reignited the spirit of the lone coder, allowing for a broader spectrum of voices and perspectives to contribute to the medium.

Video games are not created in a vacuum; they are products of their time, mirroring the political and social landscapes in which they are conceived. Many games inherently carry political themes, exploring narratives of fighting against oppressive regimes, overcoming overwhelming odds, and striving for a more hopeful future.

In a world grappling with inequality, division, and the insidious nature of ideological entrenchment, videogames offer a unique avenue for players to engage with these complex issues. They can illustrate how dogma prevents individuals from envisioning a better world, let alone actively working to bring it about. The interactive nature of games allows players to step into different roles, experience diverse perspectives, and actively participate in narratives of resistance and transformation.

In our increasingly complex and challenging times, the power of video games to inspire hope and encourage critical thought is not merely a bonus, but a vital contribution to cultural discourse. By engaging players in struggles against fictionalized forms of authoritarianism and bigotry, games can subtly, yet powerfully, foster empathy and a desire for positive change in the real world.

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK: The Argument for Videogames As Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction

LINK: Akira Soundtrack Vinyl Review

LINK: The Power of Stories and How They Are Manipulated

LINK: The Message by Ta-Nahisi Coates - Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: The Anxious Generation: Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK: Toxic: Women, Fame and the Noughties- Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

Gunbuster - Cult Manga Review

Animation studio Gainax closed a couple of years and it sent shockwaves through the animation world. The studio was renown for Evangelion and Nadia: The Secret of Blue Water but it initially reached fame in 1988 with Gunbuster. I had seen most of the series but had never got to Gunbuster so thought I'd better give it a looksie.

I can say that Gunbuster, directed by Hideaki Anno, is a masterclass in how to blend high-concept science fiction with deep emotional stakes. It occupies a unique space in anime history, functioning as a bridge between the traditional Super Robot shows of the 1970s and the psychological deconstructions seen in the 1990s.

The story follows Noriko Takaya, a young girl living in the shadow of her father, a decorated Admiral who vanished during an alien ambush. When she is recruited into an elite space force to protect Earth, she must grapple with her own insecurities and the weight of human survival, a premise that feels remarkably similar to Orson Scott Card's Ender’s Game.

For modern viewers, Gunbuster could be seen as a fascinating prototype for Neon Genesis Evangelion. Many of Anno’s signature tropes are already present here, including the reluctant teenage pilot, the demanding commander, and sharp internal team rivalries. The character Jung Freud, a formidable redhead, clearly paves the way for future archetypes like Asuka. While the series starts with familiar genre beats, it quickly evolves into something much more profound by centering the narrative on the terrifying realities of interstellar combat.

One of the most impressive elements of the series is its commitment to the physics of special relativity. Unlike many sci-fi series that ignore the vast distances of the cosmos, Gunbuster uses time dilation as its primary emotional engine. As Noriko and her companions travel at near-light speeds, months in space result in years passing on Earth. This creates a tragic disconnect between the heroes and the people they are trying to save, as friends and family age and move on while the pilots remain physically unchanged. This hard-science approach elevates the series from a simple action show to a sophisticated meditation on sacrifice and isolation.

© BANDAI VISUAL © GAINAX

Technically, the animation has stood the test of time exceptionally well, showcasing the meticulous mechanical detail for which early Gainax became famous.

The finale of Gunbuster is a masterstroke of avant-garde direction. In a bold departure from the vibrant aesthetic of the earlier episodes, Hideaki Anno shifts the series into a high-contrast, black-and-white widescreen format. This stark change strips away distractions, emphasizing the monumental scale of the conflict and the profound isolation of its characters.

By utilizing detailed line art and cinematic composition, the show transforms from a standard mecha action story into an evocative, historical epic. It is a brilliant artistic choice that turns production limitations into a hauntingly beautiful meditation on sacrifice, leading to a conclusion that still feels powerful after nearly 40 years. Even without the typical flourishes of late-80s animation, the sheer weight of the narrative is felt in every frame.

Overall, Gunbuster is an essential watch for anyone interested in the evolution of mecha or the early works of Hideaki Anno, proving that even after decades, its message about human perseverance still rings true. Sure, some episodes contains some dated fan service elements but this was a common staple of late-80s OVA culture and these are relatively brief, but this is a minor content warning for contemporary audiences. Miss this to your detriment.

LINK- Pure Invention: How Japan's Pop Culture Conquered the World- Book Review (and Personal Reflections)

LINK- Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK- Akira Soundtrack Vinyl Review

LINK- Battle Angel Alita: And So It Ends

LINK- Fire Tripper: Cult Manga Review

LINK- The Future Starts Here: An Optimistic Guide to What Comes Next- Book Review

LINK- On Mysticism by Simon Critchley- Book Review

LINK- The Power of Stories and How They Are Manipulated

LINK- The Message by Ta-Nahisi Coates - Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

Keza MacDonald's Super Nintendo: A History of Play - Book Review

Keza MacDonald’s latest work doesn't begin in a boardroom or a lab; it begins in 1994 with a six-year-old girl and a Super Nintendo. It’s a vivid, sensory recollection of the joy that a grey plastic box can elicit - and it sets the stage for a book that is less a dry corporate timeline and more an exploration of a company’s "soul."

Nintendo is a developer that succeeds by zigging while the rest of the industry zags. While competitors engage in an arms race for teraflops and photorealistic grit, Nintendo leans into an economy of design. They find the extraordinary in the ordinary, prioritizing the human impulse to play over raw processing power.

As Johan Huizinga posited in Homo Ludens, we are defined by play. MacDonald has the additional benefit of being able to speak and understand Japanese, providing insights that many of her journalistic peers miss because translators often shorten or soften the original responses.

Chapter 1: Ultra Hand

MacDonald discusses the origins of Nintendo through it's history with hanafuda cards and visits a keen collector in France who has rebuild a copy of the original 19th century Nintendo studio in his home country, much to the surprise and delight of his neighbours.

She then does a quick timeline of primitive games and discusses how they evolved from chess and beyond.

Created by the legendary Gunpei Yokoi, this simple, extendable lattice toy sold millions and signaled Nintendo's shift from a card company to a toy titan. It perfectly encapsulates "lateral thinking with withered technology" - using simple, affordable parts to create something magical.

Chapter 2: Donkey Kong

MacDonald discusses the origins of the game, with Shigeru Miyamoto joining Nintendo in 1977. He was an avid Space Invader fan and, when presented with an opportunity to make a game came up with Donkey Kong. 

MacDonald highlights how Miyamoto’s lack of technical baggage allowed him to focus on character and personality over mere mechanics. This section shines because it treats Miyamoto not just as a developer, but as the architect of modern joy. The quotes and insights from the great man enliven this section to prevent it from being a dry potted history of the origins of the game. 

Chapter 3: Super Mario

The story of Mario is not merely a chronicle of successful game releases; it is a narrative of an industry being defined, challenged, and reinvented. As MacDonald illustrates, Mario’s journey began not as a global icon, but as a flexible design concept. Originally envisioned by Shigeru Miyamoto as Mr. Video - a character intended to cameo in every game—he first found fame as "Jumpman" in the 1981 arcade hit Donkey Kong. The unexpected success of that title transformed a pixelated carpenter into Nintendo’s official mascot, providing the company with the face it needed to conquer the global stage.

As the American video game market struggled to find its footing following the crash of 1983, Mario became the catalyst for Nintendo’s ascent. Through the NES and SNES eras, he didn't just sell consoles; he established the vocabulary of platforming and game design. However, this dominance was tested as the industry transitioned into 3D. Macdonald notes the friction of the N64 and GameCube years, where Nintendo faced a significant identity crisis. While Mario continued to innovate, the company struggled against the rising tide of Sony’s PlayStation 2, which captured a more "mature" audience and shifted the market's center of gravity.

The narrative of Nintendo’s resilience is best seen through the pendulum swing of the 21st century. The Wii represented a massive expansion of the medium, inviting non-gamers into the fold through intuitive motion controls. Yet, this peak was followed by the commercial and conceptual difficulties of the Wii U. Throughout these highs and lows, Mario served as a lodestone - a constant, reliable guide that showcased the pure possibilities of interactive entertainment. Even when the hardware faltered, a new Mario title served as the benchmark for what play should feel like.

What distinguishes this history from a standard timeline is the focus on the creative process. Through interviews with the designers and developers who have steered the franchise, MacDonald reveals a philosophy centered on "fun first." These insights show that Mario’s longevity isn't due to brand recognition alone, but to a rigorous commitment to movement, physics, and tactile joy. By focusing on the perspectives of the people behind the screen, the history of Mario is revealed as a human story of iterative genius, proving that while consoles come and go, great design remains.

Chapter 4: Zelda

MacDonald explores the evolution of the Zelda series through an internal Nintendo concept known as the Zelda Touch. This is the intangible magic that persists across more than twenty games. While players will always find a magical sword, a princess, a figure in green, and a mystic wood, these elements serve a deeper purpose. They are vessels for recurring themes of good versus evil, the thrill of adventure, the process of growing up, and a persistent sense of melancholia.

These concepts are so deeply entwined into the mythos that they feel both fresh and ancient in every new entry. Much like a classic fairytale, the icons are brought out to play and then placed back in the toy box once the adventure is over, ready to be reimagined for the next generation. This analysis is grounded in MacDonald's direct access to the architects of these worlds. Her insights come straight from the source, drawing on interviews with key players like Shigeru Miyamoto, Yoshiaki Koizumi and Eiji Aonuma. This provides a rare look at how these teams balance the weight of a legendary timeline with the constant need for mechanical innovation. 

Chapter 5: Metroid

MacDonald aptly describes this series as the black sheep of the Nintendo stable: a moody, eerie, and strikingly hands-off experience. For a company typically dedicated to delivering immediate joy and family-friendly fun, Metroid represents a significant tonal pivot. It offers a more nuanced and cinematically mature approach to the medium, abandoning traditional guidance to let players forge their own path through an unfriendly alien world. By leaning into its "Metroidvania" roots, the game transforms exploratory adventuring into a lonely, high-stakes puzzle where the environment itself is the primary antagonist.

Chapter 6: Pokemon

MacDonald goes into an amazing statiatic that, since its debut in 1996, Pokémon has grossed more than $100 billion, cementing its status as the undisputed heavyweight champion of media franchises. To put that number into perspective: Pokémon doesn't just lead the race; it’s running a different marathon entirely. She states that the secret sauce isn't just the games or the anime—it’s the merchandise as licenced goods (toys, apparel, home decor) account for the vast majority of that total. That brand has transcended being a "game" to become a lifestyle. 

Pokémon’s success comes from its uncanny ability to reinvent itself for every generation. It survived the transition from 8-bit handhelds to augmented reality, consistently finding new ways to make "Catching 'Em All" feel like a fundamental human instinct. The fact that in 2016, a terrible year of the toxic Brexit vote, Trump's first term, the war in Syria and multiple celebrity deaths added to the fact that hundreds of millions found solace in the Pokemon Go! world. Pokémon isn't just a nostalgic relic of the 90s; it is a multi-generational bridge as well as a  financial engine that shows no signs of slowing down.

Chapter 7: Kirby 

The chapter looks at the growing popularity of Kirby but is really a deep dive into Satoru Iwata, a HAL employees who would go on to lead Nintendo as its President. In his tenure, he would introduce the DS, Wii, WiiU and start work on the Switch. This is a heartfelt chapter where we learn about the great man, his philosophy and his enduring legacy. 

Chapter 8: Wii Sports

MacDonald captures the lightning-in-a-bottle moment of Wii Sports, illustrating how Nintendo successfully dismantled the "gamer" stereotype. By prioritizing intuitive motion controls over complex button layouts, they shifted gaming from a niche, solitary hobby to a universal social language. The Wii didn't just sell consoles; it brought together disparate cultures and generations, proving that the true power of gaming lies in its ability to bring people into the fold rather than shut them out.

Chapter 9: Animal Crossing

The chapter takes a poignant turn with Animal Crossing, a franchise ironically born from the creator's own feelings of loneliness. MacDonald highlights how this series became the "game of the pandemic," serving as a vital digital town square when the physical world shut down. During the height of COVID-19, the game's core pillars - family, friendship, and community - provided a much-needed emotional anchor, turning a simple life simulator into a global support network.

Chapter 10: Nintendo Labo

MacDonald explores Nintendo’s "quirky" side through Nintendo Labo. While the cardboard DIY kits weren't a commercial powerhouse, they perfectly encapsulate the company’s "toyetic" DNA—a philosophy that prizes tactile play and experimentation above all else. This chapter serves as a tribute to Nintendo's willingness to fail in the pursuit of innovation, reflecting on "forgotten" experiments like the Virtual Boy, the Vitality Sensor, and the Wii Fit Board as necessary steps in their creative evolution.

Chapter 11: Super Smash Bros

The influence of early videogames influenced Masahiro Sakurai and so he put these Easter eggs into the Smash Bros. series of games. The influence of Huizinga and Roger Caillois published Les Jeux et les Hommes (translated as Man, Play, and Games) is considered as the types of play are looked at by MacDonald. She looks at the Caillois formalized and classified types of play (Agôn, Alea, Mimicry, Ilinx) that Huizinga had described more abstractly. She believes that the series taps into a couple of these at the same time and so, it is a great series for newbies and old hands alike.

Chapter 12: Splatoon

This chapter looks at the younger generation of Nintendo creators (who average about mid 30 years old, so not really young tbh). The game jam idea, where teams explore creative avenues, is looked at as an example of how game ideas are shared and iterate upon. The passions and hobbies of the creatives is built into a cohesive whole which allows Nintendo to create games which ooze individuality and personality. MacDonald looks at how the production artwork was exhibited in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London in 2018. I visited the Design. Play. Disrupt. exhibition and thought it was amazing and Splatoon featured quite heavily.

Chapter 13: Epilogue:

MacDonald looks at the passing of the old guard and the newer generation taking up the mantle. She shares how Nintendo moves ever forward, however the Switch 2 is iterative and she shares her concerns about this but is hopeful about Nintendo's future.

MacDonald ends by sharing her top 50 Nintendo created games and, listening in, I realised that I'd played most of them!

Overall, I really enjoyed the book as it was a timeline of Nintendo but through the lens of its evolution. The first-hand interviews added much more detail and make this a cut above most other gaming history books.

Still Gaming With my Brother (and our Children)

Being a sibling can be a challenge and, as you grow older, you can often move further away from the things that connected you in your youth i.e. family holidays, traditions, shared traumas etc. This distance from the ‘ties that bind you’ can start to fade as you gain a chosen family, made up of friends and extended family you want to be around. Sometimes it has you reflecting on what you miss most about those 'simpler times'.

This is all part of the evolution for many people as they grow up, develop their own tastes and influences and forge their own path. In a sense, we are all our genetics, culture, interests, experiences and memories, as well as the media we love but they don't have to define us. At some point in every child’s life, even if they care for their sibling and enjoy hanging with them, they’ll want to be left alone. This is why, as you get older, you find other things to talk about... or don't and drift apart; the everyday humdrum of life getting in the way until you realise it's been an age since you last communicated with each other in meaningful ways. My three siblings and I all have a 3 year gap between us and so we naturally hung around in pairs, me with my older brother for the most part and my younger brother with the youngest, our sister.

There were and are still many shared social parlances and code for us that still exist between us, The Simpsons (first 10 seasons only, of course) informed our Simpsonish, the works of David Eddings informed our love of fantasy, Cowboy Bebop and Haibane Renmei were our formative manga and anime experiences (even though I was more into the scene than my brother), Tintin and Asterix informed our love of bande dessinée and the graphic novel informed our love of the sequential art form.... and then there's videogames. It is our most common topic of discussion whenever we speak. It's a way to bond and connect using the medium as a way to open up about other, more important matters such as family, politics, finances etc.

My daughters are currently 10 and 8 years old and they game with me. The favourite system is the Switch and our most popular games include Mario Kart 8, Alba, Kirby and the Forgotten Kingdom (except the eldritch last boss) and Super Mario 3D World. I play games with them on occasion and it's a great fun bonding session during our daddy-daughters time. However, gaming wise, I have more of a deeper connection with my nephews. My brother's 3 children are 12, 13 and 14 and gaming is central in their world. They tell me a little about Fortnight and Roblox (both of which I have never played) and Minecraft (which I played a little of, thought neat and never touched again). However, they know I have a PS4, PS5 and Switch as well as a lot of the popular retro consoles so we usually chat about the big budget AAA games on the PS4, which is what they have. They've played games well above their age range and I have spoken to my norther about this, donning my primary school teacher mode, but we do have great chats about Assassin's Creed, God of War and Horizon Zero Dawn. They have a lot of banter about their experiences and I share what I've been playing. As I have played and completed a lot of the games they haven't got around to they always ask me for my opinions so I give them summary reviews, often buying it for their birthday or Eid presents.

As an early adopter of videogame consoles, they always get excited when the new generation comes around as they know I'll probably have it and are full of questions. I recently got the youngest nephew a second-hand 2DS on FaceBay and he seems to be loving that, working his way through New Super Mario Bros. 2 and Mario Kart 7. I hope that the bonds my brother and I shared through gaming continue on with the next generation of our families.

LINK- Pure Invention: How Japan's Pop Culture Conquered the World- Book Review (and Personal Reflections)

LINK- The Rise of Retro Gaming During Covid

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK- Blood, Sweat and Pixels- Book Review

LINK- Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK- On And On And Colston ( Or, How We Kinda Sort of Learned to Talk About the Legacy of Colonialism and the British Empire)

LINK- ‘Natives: Race and Class in the Ruins of Empire’ LINK: Elden Ring- Videogames As Art

The Power of Ergodic Design

The novel House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski has an enduring quality; it has remained in my consciousness long after I first read the book about 20 years ago. This strange, haunting tale - where a shifting house defies the logic of Euclidean space, detailed through a scientist's discovered manuscript - is made uniquely powerful by its ergodic design. Ergodic literature demands unusual effort and thought from the reader due to its unconventional layout and formatting, which in Danielewski's case, perfectly mirrors the non-Euclidean, maze-like space described within the narrative. This device effectively disorients the reader, making the act of reading a visceral echo of the story's unsettling atmosphere.

Unconventional layouts might be familiar from childhood picture books or playful works like Captain Underpants but encountering them in adult literature can be disconcerting. Typically most adult books rely on a linear reading flow but ergodic books are challenging and require active reader agency to navigate the text. Sometimes, it can be a lot of work but the intentional effort required often leads to a more rewarding, deeper form of engagement.

This design philosophy finds its natural realization in videogames. Games such as Control, P.T., Device 6 and Kairo and, to a spatial degree, Monument Valley, all borrow heavily from the principles of ergodic literature and Danielewski's architectural subversions. These games explore liminal spaces and non-Euclidean geometry, deliberately playing with established gaming conventions. The medium of videogames is uniquely suited to this design as the multitude of options can effectively manipulate and subvert concepts of time and linearity. Also, it is worth noting that the thematic resonance with works that predate House of Leaves, such as Twin Peaks, which explored the concept of the White and Black Lodges and their own warped temporal logic, or Louis Borges Garden of Forking Paths, may be possible sources of inspiration for Danielewski’s unsettling spaces.

This same thematic approach permeates many modern television shows. Series like The Returned (the French original), Lost, Dark, and The OA all utilize subtle alterations to the familiar and routine to generate a pervasive sense of eeriness. They investigate the familiar, only to then question the very nature of reality.

This leads to a critical consideration of the established frameworks for storytelling. According to Christopher Booker, all stories can be categorized into seven basic plots: Overcoming the Monster, Rags to Riches, The Quest, Voyage and Return, Comedy, Tragedy, and Rebirth. While his Jungian archetype theory builds upon Joseph Campbell’s monomyth, it is constrained by its Euro-centric, male-centered approach, often dismissing narratives that do not fit neatly into its established, resolution-focused structure. This constraint is particularly evident when analyzing ergodic works, which often resist definitive resolution. I propose that existential dread should be considered an essential narrative category that is not sufficiently covered by Booker's framework. His categories rely on an arc of conclusion—even tragedy offers a finality—but stories focused on existential dread intentionally refuse resolution. This narrative drive focuses instead on the absurdity of the universe, the meaninglessness of human effort, and the inherent alienation of the individual. In House of Leaves, for example, the horror stems not from fighting a defined entity, but from the realization that the rules of reality itself are unstable and incomprehensible. This sense of profound, unsettling disorientation—driven by the reader's active, ergodic engagement - cannot be simply shoehorned into a quest or a tragedy. The void, rather than a monster, becomes the true antagonist.

Overall, I believe that ergodic design is often more than just a stylistic choice; it is a fundamental narrative device that demands active participation to generate profound thematic impact. By connecting the reader's effort to the character's experience of non-Euclidean spaces, this methodology is perfectly suited to conveying modern narratives centered on ontological uncertainty and existential dread across literature, video games, and television.

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK: Please Save My Earth - Cult Manga Review

LINK: Thomas Was Alone Video Game Vinyl Soundtrack Review

LINK: Akira Soundtrack Vinyl Review

LINK: The Power of Stories and How They Are Manipulated

LINK: The Message by Ta-Nahisi Coates - Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: The Anxious Generation: Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK: Toxic: Women, Fame and the Noughties- Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

Patlabor - Cult Manga Review

Patlabor: The Movie stands as a titan of late-80s anime. Often mentioned in the same breath as Akira, Ghost in the Shell and Ninja Scroll, it was a critical darling of the era. Yet, for years, it somehow eluded me. Recently, I finally corrected that oversight but has it been worth the wait.

Set in an alternate 1999, the story depicts a Tokyo undergoing the massive Babylon Project, a land reclamation undertaking. To handle the colossal construction efforts, the city relies on giant humanoid machines known as Labors. The plot ignites when these machines begin malfunctioning, prompting an investigation by Special Vehicle Section 2. What appears to be a one-off mecha rampage glitch quickly evolves into a moody, atmospheric procedural. It weaves a web involving the suicide of a brilliant programmer, a virus-infected operating system, and a conspiracy that suggests the city's greatest threat is not a physical army, but a line of corrupted code.

Although released in 1989, the film is uncannily prescient. Its exploration of political cover-ups, corporate malpractice, and the fragility of a networked society feels ripped from today's headlines. While we may not have giant mechs roaming our streets, the film’s depiction of software vulnerabilities and corporations hiding defects to protect stock prices is strikingly modern. Patlabor wisely trades simple villains for complex, systemic dangers.

Visually, the film is a triumph. It eschews flashy, weightless action for a grounded realism; the machines feel heavy and mechanical. The background art is phenomenal, providing a dense, lived-in texture that set a new benchmark for the industry. The script is equally mature, delivering a dense political thriller that rewards patience. It is punctuated by philosophical introspection—most notably an investigator quoting Paul Gauguin to question humanity's technological trajectory—and is layered with biblical symbolism regarding Babel, Yahweh and the Ark that is central to the antagonist's philosophy.

Underscoring this heady drama is the glorious score by Kenji Kawai. His signature blend of heavy percussion and haunting synths creates an ethereal atmosphere that binds the narrative together. It all reaches a heady crescendo with the Ark falling apart and the Labors going berserk - wonderful!

Ultimately, despite the three decades since its release, Patlabor: The Movie remains a relevant, thought-provoking watch and an undeniable masterpiece from director Mamoru Oshii. I'm sure had I seen it back in the day it would have blown my mind because, even now, it stands as a phenomenal piece of work.

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK- Battle Angel Alita: And So It Ends

LINK- Fire Tripper: Cult Manga Review

LINK- Akira Soundtrack Vinyl Review

LINK- Manga Exhibition at the British Museum

LINK- The Transportive Nature of Objects (And the Power of Mini Consoles)

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Nihilism, Optimism, Cosmic Bliss and All That Jazz! (or the Search for Meaning)

The fear of death—the specter of oblivion or the void—is a deeply fundamental human anxiety. Our ego, the part of us that insists on our individuality, naturally resists the idea of its own ultimate erasure. This inevitable finality forces us to confront our existence.

Historically, this existential dread has pushed humanity toward two main philosophical solutions:

  1. Nihilism: A cold acceptance that life has no objective, ultimate meaning.

  2. Spiritual Optimism: A firm conviction in an afterlife or a divine cosmic plan that negates the finality of earthly death.

A third, more grounded path emerges from this tension. It's rooted not in grand cosmic theories but in the radical, defiant act of human love, offering meaning by fully embracing our connections while we are here.

Philosophies like Cosmic Horror offer a particularly potent form of nihilism, positing that humanity is insignificant against an uncaring, unknowable universe. If our loves and triumphs are meaningless in the grand scheme, what's the point?

For some, this leads to fatalistic apathy—a surrender to meaninglessness. Yet, the paradox is that for others, this very indifference of the universe becomes a call to action. In a world devoid of inherent meaning, a simple act of kindness becomes a profound defiance against a cold cosmos. They choose to do good precisely because it doesn't matter to the stars, only to us.

The alternative is the powerful solace found in spiritual optimism—the promise of an everlasting soul or a reunion with a divine creator. For those who truly believe, this faith is a powerful antidote to the fear of death; it is a profound trust that what comes after is better than what came before.

However, many people find themselves caught in the middle. They lack the solace of deep religious faith but cannot fully accept the cold comfort of nihilism. They are left in a state of suspended animation, trying to outrun their mortality with distractions. This dread is an external terror, but also an internal one, which some psychoanalysts, like Freud, have termed the death instinct (Thanatos)—an unconscious pull toward nothingness. This innate drive makes our conscious choice to live and to love even more significant.

Perhaps the answer lies not in choosing one extreme, but in the space between. True meaning resides in the radical act of loving fiercely and desperately in the face of an uncertain future.

This is a defiant choice to create moments of grace and to build a small pocket of warmth in a cold universe. The universe may not care, but we do. In that simple, human act of love—for our children, our partners, and our community—we find our purpose.

This love transforms the ghost of youthful optimism into a deeper, more profound sense of duty. The weight of knowing that an ordinary embrace might be the last doesn't have to cause constant grief; it becomes a powerful motivator to make every single moment more meaningful.

Our value isn't measured by an eternal scorecard but by the quality of the connections we forge. In the end, we find not a cosmic purpose, but a human one. And that, it turns out, is enough.

LINK- ‘Natives: Race and Class in the Ruins of Empire’

LINK- The Good Place and Philosophy

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK- The Future Starts Here: An Optimistic Guide to What Comes Next- Book Review

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LINK: Let’s All Create a ‘New Normal’.

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Religious Prophecy, Geopolitical Realities, and Human Rights

The intersection of deeply held religious beliefs, historical narratives, and modern geopolitical realities presents profound challenges to the universal application of human rights and the rule of law. Across the globe, there appears to be a systemic failure within the democratic framework, manifesting as a crisis that mirrors the historical "Condition of England" question. This critical examination now extends far beyond any single nation; every country grapples with its own unique contradictions. While specific problems differ, the underlying anxieties are universal: a sense of social decay, a questioning of fundamental values, and a growing disconnect between the governed and the government.


Theodicy and the Roots of Violence

The enduring philosophical challenge of theodicy—reconciling a benevolent God with the presence of evil and suffering—has puzzled thinkers for millennia. Traditional explanations often focus on human free will, yet this argument falters when confronted with the suffering of the innocent, such as animals or infants.

Alternative perspectives include:

  • The Manichaean Heresy: Posits a cosmic struggle between Good and Evil, suggesting God is not all-powerful but is engaged in a continuous battle.

  • Radical Secularism: The conclusion that the persistence of systemic evil suggests God does not exist.

Beyond theology, understanding the roots of human violence requires looking past innate passions or primal fears. A more compelling perspective suggests that systemic pressures and their material consequences are the primary drivers of inhumanity. This shifts the focus from individual depravity to the structural conditions that enable atrocities: economic disparities, historical grievances, political disenfranchisement, and the relentless pursuit of power. In these environments, violence becomes perceived not as a choice, but as a necessity for survival and dominance.


Eschatology, Politics, and Human Rights

There is a critical distinction in how eschatological (end-times) visions influence political action, particularly when comparing interpretations within Islam, Judaism, and Christianity.

  • Islam: The Quran places knowledge of the Day of Judgment solely with God, effectively delegitimizing human attempts to hasten its arrival. This theological boundary explains why groups like ISIS struggle to maintain a caliphate narrative among the global Muslim majority; by claiming to force a prophetic timeline, they overstep a divine prerogative. While fringe elements fixate on 'hastening' the end through major signs - such as the arrival of the Mahdi or the final battle - the vast majority of scholars condemn this as both illegitimate and anti-Islamic. This tension illustrates a broader trend: movements or states that prioritize rigid, dogmatic interpretations over theological humility often find themselves fundamentally at odds with the modern world, as seen in the isolation of Afghanistan under the Taliban.

  • Judaism: Core tenets regarding the Messiah are often linked to tangible earthly events, such as the restoration of sovereignty in the land of Israel and the rebuilding of the Temple. When intertwined with certain strands of Zionism, this belief system can be perceived as actively seeking to create the conditions for prophecy fulfillment - where religious imperative meets political action. However, many Orthodox Jews believe that any attempt to re-establish a state or rebuild the Temple before the Messiah arrives is a rebellion against God; forcing the end (dochek et ha-ket) invites divine wrath they believe.

  • Christianity (Christian Zionism): Primarily rooted in dispensationalism, this framework views the modern State of Israel as a "prophetic clock." Adherents believe that the return of Jewish people to the Holy Land is a prerequisite for the Rapture and the Second Coming of Christ. This perspective often manifests in date-setting - such as the specific anxieties surrounding the Rapture of September 23rd, 2025 - and drives significant political and financial support for territorial expansion. By viewing geopolitical events as a divine script, this ideology can lead to a dismissal of the human rights of non-Jewish inhabitants, as their presence is seen as an obstacle to a divinely ordained timeline.

The conflation of the state of Israel with Judaism - promoted by the Netanyahu government and various Zionist factions - has arguably harmed the broader Jewish community. Judaism is not a monolith. For any state to claim it speaks for an entire religion is inherently problematic, especially when that state engages in actions not supported by everyone of that faith. This intertwining of religious belief with territorial aspirations raises significant human rights concerns. When the concept of a Greater Israel becomes a core religious-national identity, it risks creating a framework where ethnicity and religion dictate a hierarchy of human value.


The Huckabee Doctrine

The shift from theological belief to state policy was made startlingly clear in a February 2026 interview with Tucker Carlson. The US Ambassador to Israel, Mike Huckabee, leaned heavily into this prophetic framework.

Citing a divine mandate, Huckabee stated: “Israel is a land that God gave through Abraham to a people that he chose. It was a people, a place, and a purpose.” When pressed on biblical claims stretching from the Nile to the Euphrates, he remarked, “It would be fine if they took it all.” Though he later called the statement "hyperbolic," his insistence on using biblical names for the West Bank over international legal terms underscores a reality where ancient scripture is being used to redraw modern maps. This creates a dangerous precedent: if one nation can claim Divine Mandate to bypass the rule of law, the entire post-WWII global order collapses. The "Condition of England" question is thus answered with a grim reality: when the governed and the government are separated by a wall of religious dogma, the universal in human rights becomes a hollow term.


Historical Narratives and Contemporary Migration

A striking parallel exists between Zionism and Manifest Destiny. Both movements share a foundational narrative of a Promised Land and a perceived divine mandate for expansion.

  • Manifest Destiny: Driven by American exceptionalism, it justified westward expansion and the displacement of indigenous peoples.

  • Zionism: Rooted in a historical-religious connection to the land, leading to the establishment of a state and the subsequent displacement of Palestinians.

A troubling double standard emerges when these narratives are contrasted with the treatment of contemporary migrants, particularly people of color. While Manifest Destiny and Zionism are often framed as noble aspirations, the motivations of refugees today are frequently reduced to dehumanizing terms like "swarms" or "waves of economic migrants." This linguistic disparity strips individuals of agency and reinforces xenophobic attitudes. The historical outcomes of displacement—whether of indigenous Americans or Palestinians—find a troubling echo in the barriers to integration faced by migrating populations today.


The Failure of Global Governance

Reconciling these deeply entrenched narratives with modern human rights, the rule of law, and the Geneva Convention presents an immense challenge. The principles of universal human dignity, self-determination, and non-discrimination are foundational to contemporary international law. Yet, the complicity (perceived or otherwise) of Western powers - through military and financial support - and the relative silence of parts of the Middle East complicate efforts to uphold these standards consistently.

Addressing this requires a critical examination of historical injustices, a commitment to equitable solutions, and a consistent application of international law that prioritizes human rights for all, irrespective of ethnic, religious, or national identity. The failure of global governance to effectively address state-sponsored atrocities, as seen in conflicts like Israel-Palestine and the attacks on Iran, suggests that the struggle against evil is as much a human responsibility to dismantle oppressive systems as it is a theological conundrum.

In light of a fragile and frequently violated ceasefire, the historical record must not be allowed to blur. We must critically examine the "quietism" of the bystanders and the active enablement of those in power. To treat the highly probable case of genocide as a theological inevitability rather than a political choice is the ultimate abdication of reason. I have no time for the "if I were there" fallacy of hypothetical syllogism; the reality is that we are here, and inaction is a form of endorsement.

Our moral imperative now is to dismantle the frameworks that justify suffering through the lens of divine right. This requires a twin-pronged defense: actively combatting the rise of Antisemitism and Islamophobia, while simultaneously tackling the exclusionary nature of Zionist territorialism. When any ideology - religious or secular - prioritizes the sanctity of land over the sanctity of life, it ceases to be a movement for self-determination and becomes a mechanism for erasure.

If we do not demand that security, dignity, and the rule of law be applied universally—irrespective of faith, heritage, or "prophetic" timelines—then we stand for nothing. This is not a drill; it is the definitive test of the 21st-century conscience.

LINK- Natives: Race and Class in the Ruins of Empire

LINK- On And On And Colston ( Or, How We Kinda Sort of Learned to Talk About the Legacy of Colonialism and the British Empire)

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Goodbye, World by Miffle - Album Review

Miffle’s Goodbye, World came onto my radar via Anthony Fantano’s end of year music album wrap-up video. It sounded exactly like my kind of thing, and after several listens, I’m convinced it’s an amazing album.

Rather than following the traditional structure of discrete songs, Miffle has created a singular, forty-minute experience where each piece flows beautifully into the next, mimicking the hazy transitions of a dream or the shifting light of a winter’s day. Miffle breathes life into the abstract, transforming tape hiss and field recordings into a deeply personal narrative. Listening to it feels like unearthing a haunted relic of 1970s animation—reminiscent of the uncanny Moomins series or the surreal Eastern European animations that populated Channel 4 during childhood sick days.

From the opening moments, The City is Calm at This Hour sets a pensive tone with warping, arpeggiated bell-like tones that feel like the distant tolling of a clock tower in a deserted plaza. It melds seamlessly into As the Early Birds Rise the Sleepy Owls Retreat and Hide, where fragile violin lines and gentle guitar arpeggios provide a moment of breathtaking stillness. This tranquility is haunted by Cold Concrete Glows Under the Moonlight, a track that earns its title with an eerie, chilly atmosphere that feels like breath misting in the night air.

The album’s texture thickens with Digital Blizzard, a powerful, all-encompassing cacophony that uses muffled voices and glitchy textures to simulate a sensory overload that is somehow still a meditative five minutes as it builds from aural overload to calm. It transitions into Losing Interest in the Things That You Love, a piece marked by swell-like field recordings and a distant, EKG-like pulse that adds a layer of quiet, human vulnerability.

The midpoint of the journey, Static Snow, is one of my favourite tracks as it is beautifully meditative and acts as a heaviky, textured anchor before drifting into the ethereal guitar piece. It glitches into Ghosts of Your Whispered Words Linger which plays a short repetitive loop as if the needle is stuck on a record before delving into the surreal Remnants of a Dream, a caliopy of gentle metalophones and jangly chime bells before woozy piano bars drop in mesmerically. All the movements serve as essential connective tissue in maintaining the album's otherworldly momentum. The Invisible Girl offers a fleeting, melancholic melody that feels like a fading memory, playing a gentle thrum of guitar over discordant chatter which leads directly into the emotional centerpiece of the record: Long Walk Home (You Exist In My Frozen Memories Forever). This ten-minute epic is a multi-phased marvel, beginning with folksy, Godspeed-esque strings before being swallowed by a searing wall of analog distortion and bass, only to clear out at the end like the passing of a storm with gentle violins.

Finally, the title track Goodbye, World! brings the listener back to Earth - or perhaps deeper into a domestic dream. A peaceful, descending guitar refrain guides the listener toward the sounds of a door opening and the gentle meow of a cat, offering a sense of closure and warmth after the preceding cold.

Goodbye, World is a stunning achievement in ambient music. This debut record is a masterclass in evocative, otherworldly, and moody ambient soundscapes and is a record that demands to be heard in a single sitting, preferably under headphones in a dark room. I loved it and I'm sure many of you will too!