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  • The ‘Loki’ Season 2 Finale Recap: Everything Changes With Time

    The ‘Loki’ Season 2 Finale Recap: Everything Changes With Time

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    It’s been a long time coming, but the God of Mischief is officially no more. At the end of the second season of Loki, the Asgardian finally finds his glorious purpose as a deity deserving of a new title: the God of Stories.

    Throughout six movies and one live-action TV series since 2011’s Thor, no character in the MCU has had a more significant evolution than Tom Hiddleston’s Loki. He started as a villain, became something of an antihero, and then a full-fledged superhero. But by the end of the Season 2 finale, aptly titled “Glorious Purpose,” Loki has transformed into something beyond such simple narrative archetypes. He has effectively become the multiverse itself, the gatekeeper of all hero’s journeys past, present, and future.

    Loki’s 12th and potentially final episode is the culmination of more than a decade of the Asgardian’s appearances in the MCU. It’s at once a satisfying conclusion for Marvel’s flagship TV series and a bittersweet ending for one of its most tragic and beloved characters. The Prince of Lies once desired a royal throne over anything and anyone else, whether that meant hurting his brother, his parents, or millions of earthlings in the process. In “Glorious Purpose,” Loki ascends to a throne at last—it’s just not the one he had once dreamt of.

    At the end of last week’s installment, Loki learned how to control his time slipping, turning what was once a problem into a potential solution to save all his friends. He used this new superpower to return to the TVA, moments before the Temporal Loom’s destruction, as he tried to understand what they could have done differently to prevent the disaster. When O.B. suggested that they took too long to even attempt to fix the Loom, Loki entered a time loop of his own making, trying again and again to speed up their process just enough for their mission to succeed. Loki had played with time loops for much of the second season, but with Loki’s emergent mastery of time, the finale takes this narrative device a step further as he creates his own Groundhog Day.

    For the beginning of “Glorious Purpose,” Loki retraces his steps over the course of the second season to see how every action can be executed faster, spending literal centuries this way to achieve an optimal sequencing, much to the confusion of his allies. (At one point, Mobius even pulls him aside and asks, “What the shit are you doing?!”) But when they finally succeed in expanding the capacity of the Loom to account for the growing number of branches, they realize their efforts—and lifetimes of Loki’s work—were all for nothing. “The Loom will never be able to accommodate for an infinitely growing multiverse,” Victor Timely explains. And so what starts as a tour through the greatest hits of Season 2 soon extends to the first season, as Loki finally understands that the only way to prevent the destruction of the Loom and the TVA is to return to the moment when Sylvie unlocked the true potential of the multiverse, and stop her from killing He Who Remains.

    At the Citadel at the End of Time, Loki finds himself in another futile cycle, trying and failing to save He Who Remains from getting stabbed by Sylvie in each attempt. Only when the TVA’s mastermind pulls Loki out of it, using his advanced time-twisting TemPad to freeze Sylvie in place, does the full extent of Loki’s impossible predicament begin to take shape. He Who Remains paved the road for Loki and Sylvie to find him at the End of Time at the end of the first season, and here, the villain reveals to Loki that everything that has happened since then—from his death to Loki’s time slipping—has all proceeded as he anticipated. All along, the Temporal Loom was just a fail-safe, designed to protect the Sacred Timeline from the inevitable multiversal war and nothing more. Despite Sylvie’s best efforts, free will was never a possibility. “Make the hard choice,” He Who Remains tells Loki. “Break the Loom and you cause a war that kills us all. Game over. Or, kill her, and we protect what we can.”

    Beginning with this conversation with He Who Remains, Loki skips backward and forward through time to figure out what he must do, seeking counsel as he comes up with the words to rewrite the story of the entire multiverse. It’s a clever way of revisiting some of the most critical junctures in the series to display how far Loki has come, while also providing the chance for him to have one last chat with the show’s most important characters. At this point, Loki has learned how to transport his body through time and space, and he’s grown powerful enough to dictate time for those around him—much like HWR’s Time Twister. Though it seems as if Loki could return to any moment in the past, with Mobius, he chooses one of their very first conversations, when he was just learning about the existence of the TVA in the series premiere.

    Loki picks a moment in time when he was still in restraints and when Mobius was no more than a TVA analyst trying to figure out what made a Loki tick. In some ways, that choice makes this version of Mobius more objective; he has yet to learn about all the lies and deceptions that the TVA was built on, and is still a faithful servant to an organization that prunes every variant and branching timeline without exception.

    As the duo sit across from each other in the TVA’s time theater, they decide to skip the rewatch of Loki’s life. Mobius instead tells him a story about an incident involving a pair of Hunters, a thinly-veiled anecdote about himself. Mobius recounts how this Hunter once “lost sight of the big picture,” as he failed to prune a variant because he was just a little boy. Thanks to his hesitation, a couple of Hunters died in the process, and matters would have been even worse if his partner, Ravonna, hadn’t stepped in to intervene. “Most purpose is more burden than glory,” Mobius explains.

    By now, it seems clear that Loki’s only option is to kill Sylvie. As Mobius’s story helps frame it, it is the burden that Loki must choose. And so Loki makes one final stop, finding Sylvie at A.D. Doug’s Pasadena workshop from last week’s “Science/Fiction” to tell his multiversal counterpart of the unfortunate reality. For one last time, they debate the need for the TVA, the choice between dying with freedom or living under unjust rule, and their positions of unparalleled power over the lives of everyone in every universe. Sylvie helps him recognize that protecting the Sacred Timeline isn’t enough; for all that she has preached about the necessity of free will, her position finally breaks through to Loki. “Who are you to decide we can’t die fighting?” Sylvie asks him.

    Instead of returning to the End of Time, Loki goes back to the Temporal Core, to those familiar final moments before the Loom gets destroyed and the multiverse begins to decay. Rather than playing within HWR’s range of rules, though, Loki chooses his own path. He takes one last look at his friends before setting off to be forever alone, accepting the fate he was most afraid of. “I know what I want,” he says to Sylvie and Mobius. “I know what kind of god I need to be … for you. For all of us.”

    The final climactic scene of Loki is a stunning visual sequence backed by an epic score from composer Natalie Holt, whose finest work in the series arrives near the end of this finale. As Loki replaces Victor on the gangway leading to the Loom, his TVA attire disintegrates due to the room’s temporal radiation, with his magic producing an iconic green costume in its place to match his new unofficial title as the God of Stories. A horned helmet manifests on his head, bearing a similar black-and-gold aesthetic to He Who Remains’s Citadel and technology. Loki destroys the Loom, dispersing the branches into the void before him as they begin to decompose. He proceeds to grab these vine-like threads, whole universes crumbling in the palms of his hands, and pulls them together through a portal to the End of Time. And as Loki wraps himself in the branches of the multiverse, imbuing them with his magic all the while, he sits on a solitary throne at his own Citadel, creating a new type of Loom that’s better suited for an Asgardian god: Yggdrasil, the World’s Tree.

    Screenshots via Disney+

    The 12th episode of Loki serves as the second-season finale, but it’s also something of a creation myth. So much of this season was built on the themes of ouroboros, a snake eating its own tail in an endless cycle of life, death, and rebirth. And as Loki travels from one end of the series to its beginning, two episodes that share the title of “Glorious Purpose,” these paradoxes of time and infinity start to apply to the TV show at large. Was Loki the one who was responsible for pulling his friends—Mobius, B-15, O.B., and Casey—out of their lives to begin with? Was it Loki who created the TVA?

    “Glorious Purpose” is the last chapter of a story that finds Loki sacrificing his desires to become a divine being with all the power one could ever dream of, and yet no one to enjoy it with. He has claimed his throne at the End of Time, a purpose of all burden, and no glory. Loki never actually declares its protagonist as the God of Stories, as he becomes in the comics, but it gives him the same fate, on the series’ own terms. Loki has now established a new multiverse for the rest of the MCU to live and grow in, one that is more alive and dynamic than the Sacred Timeline was ever designed to be.

    The Epilogue

    “Glorious Purpose” effectively ends with Loki restructuring the multiverse into a new type of World’s Tree. But rather than leaving the episode on something of a cliff-hanger, Loki tacks on a few brief scenes to show what happens in the aftermath of the Asgardian’s sacrifice. When Loki destroyed the Loom and took sole responsibility for managing an infinitely-growing multiverse, he all but ended any need for the TVA to continue existing as it had. But in its place, he has allowed a new organization to grow, find a new purpose, and do things a little differently this time.

    O.B. has returned to the TVA to reassume his position as its tech expert, rebooting Miss Minutes—who will hopefully not try to kill them all this time—and writing a second edition of the TVA guidebook, with Victor Timely sharing an author credit. Casey and B-15 are both back as well and have received more power in what appears to be a more democratic restructuring of the TVA’s leadership: When they return to the War Room, it isn’t filled with a handful of judges or generals sitting in to debate among themselves, but one that is packed with new faces and more voices to reflect the shift in the organization’s mission and values. One interaction between B-15 and Mobius reveals that at least part of the TVA’s new goal is to monitor the other variants of He Who Remains and prevent the multiversal war from happening.

    (In Mobius’s report, he cites an incident with a variant in a 616-adjacent realm that was handled. He’s referring to Kang the Conqueror and the events of Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania, which is thankfully the one time that that movie ever really came up this entire season.)

    As for Ravonna Renslayer, whose fate had all been forgotten by Loki since she was pruned in Episode 4, we see her waking up in the Void. Just as Loki did in Season 1, Ravonna now finds herself in an unfamiliar world that exists out of time, facing down the realm’s guardian, the trans-temporal purple entity known as Alioth. It isn’t clear whether this is the end of the line for the former TVA judge or a tease that her story isn’t done quite yet; a shot of a pyramid and a Sphinx could be suggesting a potential connection between her and another Kang variant who appeared at the end of Quantumania, the time-traveling pharaoh known as Rama-Tut.

    Meanwhile, the adult Victor Timely is nowhere to be seen. However, we see a young version of him back in Chicago. “Glorious Purpose” returns to that moment when he received his TVA guidebook in “1893,” except when Victor turns around to look at his windowsill, he sees that nothing is there—just the curtain blowing in the wind. In this new reality, Timely’s future is never altered, and instead of being put on a path that could lead him to become the next He Who Remains, the boy simply turns back to focus on making his candles.

    Finally, the episode ends with two of the show’s most important characters behind Loki: Mobius and Sylvie. After Sylvie chewed out Mobius in “Heart of the TVA” for never even bothering to look into his past life on the Sacred Timeline, Mobius decides it’s time to leave the TVA and see what he’s been protecting all of these years. With Sylvie at his side, he watches from a distance as his variant counterpart, Don, plays with his two sons on the lawn in front of their home. “Where you gonna go?” he asks her, only to receive a carefree shrug in response.

    “You?” she asks.

    “I might just wait here for a little bit,” Mobius replies. “Let time pass.”

    Sylvie leaves through a Time Door and Mobius is left alone, watching the distant life that he once had. It’s a wonderfully simple moment, as Mobius stands there in blissful peace, with just a tinge of sadness knowing that the family he’s watching is not his. It’s all the more devastating as the camera zooms back out to reveal that Loki is right there watching with him, from another place, at another time, taking solace in the fact that his sacrifice was not in vain. What’s in store for either Mobius or Sylvie in the future is, for once, completely unknown. And that’s the beauty of it.

    What’s Next for Loki?

    For Loki, the God of Stories doesn’t exactly get a happy ending. But as he watches his friends continue on in their lives with the freedom of choice they’d never had, the episode ends with Loki looking on with a tearful smile, suggesting that it was all worth it.

    After all of Loki’s dastardly deeds during his time in the MCU, the Asgardian has finally become a god whom Thor, Odin, and Frigga would be proud of—making it all the more tragic that none of them are around to see him become the person they always hoped he’d become. While Marvel has yet to announce whether there will be a third season of Loki, this certainly feels like it’s the end. Any alternative would be a mistake, for as good as the series has been. Though Season 2 had its ups and downs, it returned Loki to the pinnacle of MCU TV, rivaled only by the lone season of 2021’s WandaVision. With two tremendous season finales, though, Loki has achieved what few of Marvel Studios’ movies or TV series have ever been able to, providing satisfying conclusions to a character’s story that wasn’t whittled down by a messy CGI spectacle or outsized concerns for promoting the next project coming down the pipeline. Loki’s character arc fully realizes his journey throughout the years, and he now holds a position of power in the MCU that not only allows the Multiverse Saga to continue, but also invests it with greater meaning, knowing that the Asgardian is the force that binds it all together.

    As head writer Eric Martin sees it, the story of Loki has come to an end—at least as far as this series goes. “We approached this as like two halves of a book,” Martin recently told CinemaBlend. “Season 1, first half. Season 2, we close the book on Loki and the TVA. Where it goes beyond that, I don’t know. I just wanted to tell a full and complete story across those two seasons.”

    However, in an interview with Variety, executive producer Kevin Wright shared a different perspective on the character’s future, citing that “the hope” is for Marvel to one day reunite Loki with his brother Thor for the first time since 2018’s Infinity War. “The sun shining on Loki and Thor once again has always been the priority of the story we’re telling,” Wright said. “But for that meeting to really be fulfilling, we have to get Loki to a certain place emotionally. I think that’s been the goal of these two seasons.”

    It’s a bit jarring to read the Loki producer saying that the “priority” of Loki is to essentially promote another MCU project, but hey, this is still Marvel Studios, after all. What’s in store for the former God of Mischief, his new responsibility to the MCU’s multiverse, and what Marvel will do about its Jonathan Majors–Kang the Conqueror situation can be dissected another day. For now, it’s time to appreciate a Marvel series that gave its title character a proper ending.

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    Daniel Chin

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  • World of Warcraft Classic is becoming its own game — is Fortnite OG next?

    World of Warcraft Classic is becoming its own game — is Fortnite OG next?

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    A couple of significant things happened in the world of online gaming over the first weekend of November. At its BlizzCon convention in California, Blizzard devoted quite a lot of time to World of Warcraft Classic — the nostalgic, retro version of its 19-year-old massively multiplayer game — and revealed surprisingly ambitious plans for Classic’s future. At the same time, Fortnite’s servers were melting under the load of its biggest day ever, which was all down to the launch of Fortnite OG, a special season bringing back the game’s original map and 2018 gameplay.

    All of a sudden, in the proudly impermanent world of online gaming — where change is always good, and if it’s not, never mind, because here comes more change — winding back the clock is big business. It’s a kind of paradox: Because online games are always evolving, a sense of scarcity and intense nostalgia forms around the way they used to be. If you can find a way to bring that feeling back, especially for an audience that’s getting jaded, then you’re on to something.

    Blizzard initially seemed reluctant to get on board with a growing movement in WoW’s community that wanted to go back to the way things were in 2004-2005. It squashed unofficial “vanilla” servers and prevaricated over creating an official alternative for years. In a way, it’s understandable: If you have spent many years of effort on (in your eyes) modernizing and improving your game, why would you want to indulge this rose-tinted exercise? Isn’t World of Warcraft just better now?

    Of course, that’s a value judgment — but what’s undeniable is that WoW is now extremely different from how it used to be. And that’s exactly what makes Classic a viable and interesting, if slightly old-fashioned, alternative. After Classic arrived in 2019, included in a standard WoW subscription, it became a roaring success, partly because of the strong contrast between it and the two unloved expansions (Battle for Azeroth and Shadowlands) it launched between.

    But what’s really fascinating about Classic is where Blizzard is taking it next — because Classic is an online game, and no online game can stand still, even a throwback. It began as a relatively faithful version of the original MMO with smart tweaks: It moved through content patches at an accelerated rate, while locking to a single iteration of game design and balance. Then it bifurcated, with some servers moving forward through classic expansions, while others stayed in the “vanilla” era. This year, it acquired a third track, something completely new that WoW had never had before: a permadeath Hardcore mode, which turned out to be a game-reviving innovation that was quite brilliant in its simplicity.

    From its showing at BlizzCon, Blizzard is doubling down on morphing WoW Classic into its own game. The expansion servers are moving on to Cataclysm, which is probably the point at which “classic” becomes a misnomer: Whatever your feelings about this divisive expansion, its sweeping rewrite of the “old world” questing experience is the point at which original WoW died, and is still represented in the game today. Blizzard is going even further than it has before in tweaking and fixing this expansion for Classic, accelerating leveling, adding quality-of-life features, and throwing in new dungeon difficulties and loot.

    World of Wacraft Classic’s Season of Discovery seeds the well-explored world of Azeroth with secrets.
    Image: Blizzard Entertainment

    But that isn’t even the headline. Blizzard — drawing inspiration from sister series Diablo, as it did for the Hardcore mode — is also introducing a fourth track to the WoW Classic servers that seasonally remixes the original “vanilla” game. Season of Discovery, which launches on Nov. 30, seeds entirely new content across the original world of Azeroth in the form of Discoveries, which producer Josh Greenfield said at BlizzCon were a way to disrupt the “solved nature” of original WoW and restore a “feeling of adventure and exploration.” It also offers a Rune Engraving system that endows classes with entirely new abilities, even allowing them to switch archetypes (you’ll be able to create a tank Warlock or a healer Mage, to name a couple).

    The game is furthermore being broken up into level-banded phases — the initial level cap will be only 25 — and interpolated with all-new endgames, one for each phase. The first of these reworks the classic leveling dungeon Blackfathom Deeps as a 10-player raid, but Blizzard is also teasing adding unfinished or cut content, and even all-new dungeons, to Season of Discovery. It’s not just a new way to think about classic WoW — it’s a new approach to structuring MMOs, borrowing liberally from across the online gaming landscape. It’s pretty exciting.

    That Blizzard is going to all this effort shows that WoW Classic is working both for the business and for the WoW community. It also demonstrates that for an online gaming nostalgia mode to succeed in the long term, it needs to evolve away from being an emulation or restoration of a bygone experience, and become a (sort of) fresh game in its own right. (Or, in Classic’s case, four games.)

    The sleepy town plaza of Tilted Towers in Fortnite, with no players

    Tilted Towers has returned in Fortnite OG.
    Image: Epic Games

    Currently, Epic has no plans to keep Fortnite OG going past its current monthlong season, which sprints through six seasons of the game’s Chapter 1 in a matter of weeks instead of months. The branding clearly allows for OG to return and revisit later chapters, but given the enormous surge in interest, Epic would be foolish not to be considering ways to keep some of these new or returning players in the fold permanently.

    It’s true that WoW and Fortnite are very different games with, crucially, different business models. Splitting the game’s audience might be more of a worry for Epic than it is for Blizzard, which is presumably happy as long as all those players stay within the one subscription-paying bucket. But WoW has proven that a big online game — especially one with a history — can support a family of sub-communities enjoying different flavors of the same game. Indeed, that might be the healthiest way forward for a game of that sort, certainly one approaching its 20th anniversary.

    More importantly, perhaps, what WoW Classic and Fortnite OG demonstrate is that the history of online games doesn’t have to be consigned to the scrapheap of memory. There’s a genuine hunger from players to turn back the clock, which, when met by an inventive studio that understands what was special about what it created but is willing to take some risks with it, can create something vibrant and sustainable in the long term — a kind of multiverse of paths not taken for your favorite old multiplayer games. What’s next, Vault of Glass in modern Destiny 2? Sign me up.

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    Oli Welsh

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  • Netflix’s first big Avatar: The Last Airbender trailer swoops in before a February premiere

    Netflix’s first big Avatar: The Last Airbender trailer swoops in before a February premiere

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    The live-action Avatar: The Last Airbender will officially premiere on Netflix on Feb. 22, 2024. The streaming service revealed the release date and the show’s first teaser trailer on Thursday during its Geeked Week presentation.

    Netflix first announced the live-action rendition of the beloved animated show in 2018. The original creators, Michael DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko, were on board to reimagine the series better than the M. Night Shyamalan film. However, the two left production two years later, explaining that the vision of the Netflix series did not align with the “spirit and integrity of Avatar.” They’ve since gone on to announce new animated projects in the Avatar-verse.

    Meanwhile, a new creative crew, lead by Sleepy Hollow’s Albert Kim, took over the Netflix show. Michael Goi (Riverdale), Jabbar Raisani (Lost in Space), and Roseanne Liang (Shadow in the Cloud) also joined as directors. The main cast includes Gordon Cormier (The Stand) as Aang; Kiawentiio (Anne with an E) as Katara; Ian Ousley as Sokka; and Dallas Liu (Pen15) as Zuko. The four relative newcomers are joined by heavy-hitters including Daniel Dae Kim, Amber Midthunder, Utkarsh Ambudkar, Danny Pudi, and George Takei.

    We’ve already seen some first glimpses of the show, including the main cast — as well as the Fire Nation characters — in costume. With an official release date on the horizon, there’s more to come for the live-action Avatar.

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    Petrana Radulovic

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  • Why I dressed like a Castlevania vampire for an entire year

    Why I dressed like a Castlevania vampire for an entire year

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    Goth fashion isn’t new, but fashion associated with the vampire scene has seen a resurgence as the vampire has once again grown in popularity through the success of the 2022 adaptation of Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire, as well as the Castlevania franchise seeing a resurgence with its Netflix series. Once again, the vampire has permeated the mainstream, sinking its fangs into an entirely new generation, coupled with an interest in historical fashion and what this timeless creature has come to represent. In the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic, sometime in 2021, while cleaning out my wardrobe, I decided to dress like I could fit into one of Koji Igarashi’s Castlevania games.

    The look of the vampire is ageless but hard to define. It exists somewhere between Victorian fashion and goth subculture, and has morphed into different subsets and microtrends over the past few decades. It can be black frocks or Tom Cruise’s frilled shirts and brocade vests in 1994’s Interview with the Vampire. It could be one of Ayami Kojima’s gorgeous oil painting illustrations of Alucard and various Belmont family members from the Castlevania series.

    It was my interest in period fashion and various subcultures that brought me to dress like a Castlevania vampire for a year. (That and having disposable income as an adult.) Would I have dressed this way as a teenager? Probably. The modern vampire has often been associated with androgyny, and it’s something I’ve always personally gravitated toward. Naturally, there are also some subsets to this. There is the more industrial goth that is sometimes blended with mid-’80s aesthetics, extremely heavy makeup and all, or the “romantic” goth associated with ruffled shirts, corsets, and modified pieces of Victorian clothing.

    The vampire is associated with so many various interpretations that it’s hard to pin down just what exactly defines it — outside of fangs, odd-colored eyes, and a penchant for the night. (I didn’t end up ordering a pair of fangs — I’m a little too self-conscious about my teeth — but someone else I know wears their pair almost religiously.)

    Photo courtesy of Kazuma Hashimoto

    A close-up photo of the author in a long-sleeved gray shirt and intense black eye makeup

    Photo courtesy of Kazuma Hashimoto

    A painting of Castlevania characters Alucard, Dracula, and others

    Image: Konami

    I scoured the internet for sellers that would provide exactly what I was looking for: linen shirts with ruffles, tightly-laced corsets, leather trousers, knee-high boots, everything I associated with the gorgeous Gothic designs Kojima incorporated in art of characters like Alucard and Mathias Cronqvist, and in one-off illustrations she’s done that feature these ephemeral creatures. I packed my closet with velvet capelets from Dark in Love, scoured secondhand shops for antique Victorian brooches and silk ribbons I would tie my then-shoulder-length hair with. To cement the vampire image, I ordered matte black lipstick to use exclusively on my upper lip, in combination with full-coverage foundation to get that perfectly flawless countenance coined as “vampire skin,” which appeared as a full-blown trend in 2022. Naturally, I also wore colored contacts and heavy eyeliner to further accentuate the look.

    I felt great assembling these outfits, spending the time to practice and perfectly apply my makeup, and walking around in clothing that made me feel extremely comfortable. I would get stopped from time to time by random passersby, but since Germany has a history of a thriving goth subculture and scene, I never received any disparaging remarks. It was all compliments, which further cemented my confidence in walking around dressed to the nines, inspired by one of my favorite artists and game series of all time.

    Many others are drawn to the way the vampire aesthetic lets self-expression and various interests converge. “Being into Victorian fashion, architecture, and even smaller subcultures like Visual Kei when I was a teenager was sort of how I got my start into vampire fashion,” said Storm, a former member of the fang community (slang for vampire communities, or in some cases even clans) when asked about what drew them to the subculture. “My interests in fashion and subculture merged with my nerdiness when I discovered the game Vampire: The Masquerade.”

    A photo of the author carrying a black lace parasol while wearing a black crocheted capelet over a white lace long-sleeved shirt

    Photo courtesy of Kazuma Hashimoto

    A photo of the author in a white lace long-sleeved shirt, a black capelet, black waist cincher, and black pants

    Photo courtesy of Kazuma Hashimoto

    Artwork of Alucard from Castlevania: Symphony of the Night

    Image: Konami

    Don Henrie, “The Human Vampire,” was a popular internet personality in the early 2000s, and was even featured in a National Geographic program and appeared on SyFy’s Mad Mad House. He was one of the first glimpses into what bridging the vampire lifestyle and fashion movement was like during that era. There was also the (moderate) success of Queen of the Damned, Van Helsing, and Underworld roughly around the same time. The website VampireFreaks began in 1999, functioning as a MySpace for goths; it still exists today, now as an online shop that sells goth-related apparel and goods.

    This style of fashion has also created a community. “I ended up becoming part of an online community in the early 2000s, which was super into all of the Vampire: The Masquerade clans. It’s actually how a lot of ‘vampire clans’ in the physical world formed,” Storm said. One of the more popular “vampire clans” was featured on Buzzfeed in 2018, where host Selom received her own pair of vampire fangs. Vampire fangs can definitely be a fashion statement; I know a few people who wear them without joining a clan, as they’ve become more accessible through sellers like Kaos Kustom Fangs. But for clan members, it’s more or less a lifestyle they subscribe to. I never joined a clan myself, and only learned the inner workings of them through friends who had participated in the culture, but living in a major metropolitan city meant that I definitely wasn’t alone in dressing outside of the norm. I was friends with former cyber goths, and while they had more or less toned down their looks, they still dressed in mostly all black and gravitated toward voluminous black dresses with heeled boots.

    Having orbited those circles and now seeing the resurgence of vampire media, it feels like the scene is in the middle of an upswing. Would I dress like a “vampire” again? The answer is maybe, mostly because where I live now doesn’t accommodate it all that well. (Wearing black velvet in sweltering summer heat doesn’t bode well for anyone.) But it was definitely one of my favorite periods of personal fashion, and a fulfilling period of self-expression. So maybe I’ll throw everything together for a night at the club. Regardless, it’s great to see this subset of goth subculture still alive and well.

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    Kazuma Hashimoto

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  • ‘60 Songs That Explain the ’90s’: Portishead, “Glory Box”

    ‘60 Songs That Explain the ’90s’: Portishead, “Glory Box”

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    60 Songs That Explain the ’90s is back for its final stretch run. (And a brand-new book!) Join The Ringer’s Rob Harvilla as he treks through the soundtrack of his youth, one song (and embarrassing anecdote) at a time. Follow and listen for free on Spotify. In Episode 108 of 60 Songs That Explain the ’90s—yep, you read that right—we’re covering Portishead’s “Glory Box.” Read an excerpt below. And if you’re in Los Angeles on November 16, check out the 60 Songs and Bandsplain crossover event celebrating Rob’s new book.


    What is this voice? What is the deal with Beth Gibbons? How would you describe Beth’s diction here? Playful? Caustic? Bright? Malicious? Theatrical? All of ’em? None of ’em? Who do you hear? You hear Billie Holiday? You hear Dusty Springfield? You hear a Disney villain? You hear a Bond girl? You hear a Bond villain? No, Mr. Cupid, I expect you to die!

    What does Beth Gibbons think about Beth Gibbons? “I’m not technically a very good singer. If anyone says I am, I know they don’t know what they’re talking about. If I wanted to be, I’d have to give up smoking and have lessons.” That’s Beth in a 1998 book called Seven Years of Plenty: A Handbook of Irrefutable Pop Greatness 1991-1998, by Ben Thompson. 1991 to 1998 is eight years, but OK. Portishead consists primarily of three people. You got Beth. You got Geoff Barrow, on lots of stuff but primarily on turntables. And you got Adrian Utley, primarily on guitar. Beth and Geoff meet while participating in an Enterprise Allowance Scheme. I’m going to be honest with you and say that I got really excited by the word Scheme. I pictured Beth and Geoff meeting while devising, y’know, an Ocean’s Eleven–style audacious crime spree. Right? I pictured a stylish caper. I pictured Beth and Geoff hanging upside down and stealing the Pink Panther diamond or whatever. Right? How appropriate, given this band’s flagrant old spy movie vibe, the Mission: Impossible of it all.

    But, no. No. The Enterprise Allowance Scheme was an ’80s Margaret Thatcher–era British political thing that gave young people extra government money if they set up a small business. That’s boring. That’s so boring. But Beth and Geoff meet, and they do set up, in a manner of speaking, a small business called Portishead, a band named after the town near Bristol where Geoff grew up. A town that Geoff once described to SPIN magazine by saying, “I really don’t like the place. It’s a place you can go to and die.” And then Beth says, “That’s why we named ourselves after it.” That’s funny. C’mon. She’s a little playful. The first song they work on together is called “It Could Be Sweet.” Dig the feature-length, majestic, tragic arc of the word nothing here.

    Perhaps you’re like me, and you can close your eyes and clearly picture the cover of Portishead’s 1994 debut album, Dummy: It’s a quite striking, almost nauseating blue, with a blurry photo of Beth sitting in a chair in a fancy dress with blood on her face and hooked up to an IV, looking disconcertingly dazed. Perhaps you’re like me and you were not previously aware that this cover photo of Beth is a still from a short film Portishead devised and, perhaps to their chagrin, starred in called To Kill a Dead Man. Adrian plays an oily businessman type, Geoff plays a dirtbag assassin type, Beth plays a femme fatale type. They’re all not great actors, necessarily—Beth, maybe, though, if she took lessons and smoked more—but they’re all extremely well cast. Let’s leave it at that, actually.

    The drums on “It Could Be Sweet,” though. The precise and bone-dry psh psh psh psh of the cymbals, the dollhouse-tea-set delicacy of it all. It’s a minor technical marvel; it’s a marvelous major triumph of vibe. Looking back on this song while talking to BBC 6 in 2010, Geoff says, “It wasn’t soul, but then, it kind of was. And it wasn’t overtly jazzy. And it wasn’t folk. But she brought this adultness to the track. And all of a sudden it was—this is actually real. And she’s singing about things that she obviously cares about.” You can find that quote in a cool Trash Theory video about “Glory Box” as well.

    So this is real. Geoff is somewhat of a studio veteran by the time Portishead kicks off; in fact he was a tape operator at Coach House Studio in Bristol when Massive Attack was making Blue Lines. Geoff has said that he was a lousy tape op, but he made great tea. That’s gonna about do it for Geoff and self-deprecation. Geoff once told Melody Maker, “Ambient music has never particularly appealed to me. Push ‘Go’ on a synthesizer. Make some noise. Put some delay on it, and put a couple sheep noises on it. I’m not into it.” Rude! I believe Geoff’s got some specific targets in mind, there. The KLF would like a word, Geoff. But let’s leave that at that, as well, actually. Sheep noises will not suffice, then, in terms of a hook.

    And this is how Dummy, this is how Portishead first reaches me in 1994, an alt-rockin’ midwestern teenager with no ambient sheep music experience, only a little Massive Attack experience, and for that matter very little cool old spy movie experience. Portishead first reaches me via the single “Sour Times,” which has a recognizable retro-futuristic cool old junk drawer feel that makes a lot of sense if you’ve spent 1994 getting heavy into Beck, or Stereolab, or, like, “A Girl Like You” by Edwyn Collins. You remember that shit? Is that a sacrilegious comparison from Portishead’s perspective? Too bad.

    [Rob hums guitar solo.] That’s right. That’s exactly how that guitar solo sounds. Too many poor-ass singers! Not enough poor-ass songs! That’s what he says there, right? Listen. There was a subset of 1994 alternative rock popular enough to sneak on the radio and MTV and yet ultra-cool and wily enough that I’d hear it and go, I don’t know how old this is. This is not the most sophisticated initial framework through which to receive Portishead, but, well, the statute of limitations expired on that, too. What elevates Dummy, what enshrines Dummy, is that you get all these warped old samples, you get that disorienting sense of timelessness, you get all these wonderful dusty old machines, but you get all the ghosts in those machines, too. All the ghosts are played by Beth Gibbons.

    I dig the beat here, right? The alarm clock boom bap of it all. Adrian Utley’s less-is-more fuzzed-out guitar: bwwwwooowwww. But you also get Beth singing, wailing, moaning, declaiming whatever it is she’s saying there, on the song “Strangers.” I can’t think of another album that delivers quite the same sort of delightful whiplash pivot between cool detached post-human sounds and bone-chillingly extreme human frailty. This song is called “Numb.” You ever heard a cooler snare drum sound in your life? No, you have not.

    However. Does the coolest snare drum sound she’s ever heard in her life make Beth Gibbons feel less lonely? No, it does not.

    In my California years, my Bay Area years, one time I went to this super-cool San Francisco apartment open-mic night sorta living room concert deal, and this dude had just a microphone and a loop pedal—he was a beatboxer, right—and he did a full looped beatboxed version of Portishead’s “Wandering Star.” It is difficult, perhaps, to convey the exquisite desolation of Beth Gibbons’s vocal approach while beatboxing; I don’t know if I would recommend getting romantically involved with a Portishead-covering beatboxer. You’re living on the edge there, emotionally. You’re gonna end up living a Portishead song. I’m generalizing, but come on. But on the other hand, this dude did a great job this time, and thereafter, every time I go back to Dummy, “Wandering Star” sounds ever so slightly more human to me.

    “Wandering Star” sounds more human to me now, but it also remains, like, wildly depressing, right? “The blackness / The darkness / Forever.” I have always heard Portishead primarily as primo moping music. Moping, whining, sulking, pouting. Being a grumpus. Not calling ladies on the phone. Feeling extravagantly sorry for oneself. Over-romanticizing one’s solitude, et cetera. This does not appear to be the way most people heard Dummy. The moping approach does not appear to be either of the top two approaches most people took to Dummy. Generally, you hear two things about this record. One: It is apparently stupendous background music. You’d hear it in restaurants, you’d hear it in both high- and not-as-high-end clothing boutiques, you’d hear it at the parties where all the girls were so they wouldn’t have been home even if I had tried to call them, which I didn’t. Dummy became not ambient music, exactly—not Lo-Fi Beats to Study To—but this record did prove compatible with a wide variety of activities and social situations. Put it that way.

    Or! Or, put it the other way. People thought it was makeout music. Music for … smooching. Amorousness. Et cetera. On YouTube you can find footage of Geoff and Beth, on camera, in a church, being asked by a cheerful Canadian interviewer how they feel about Dummy being described as “the greatest shagging record of 1994.” That’s another way to put the other way to put it. That’s apparently the Canadian way to put it. They don’t shag in Canada. Do they? Don’t answer that. Do you find this music appropriate for, uh, smooching? Don’t answer that, either. I just have a very hard time imagining some suave Canadian dude being like, Hold on, baby, we need some music, yeah, let me put on some, yeah, all right, check this out, baby.

    That song’s called “Biscuit.” I just googled “Do they shag in Canada,” and I got what I deserved. That’s all I have to say about that. “Biscuit” is the second-to-last song on Dummy. The last song is “Glory Box.”

    Dig that slow-motion gnarly guitar, man. Phenomenal. Adrian Utley on guitar. The chopped-and-screwed Jimi Hendrix, they call him. Nobody calls him that. That is also dumb. That is Cheeto chamber–caliber dumb. Now, that line’s got makeout music overtones for some of you, perhaps, not unreasonably, but Beth’s focus, not surprisingly, is elsewhere.

    Talking to The Independent on Sunday in 1994, Beth says, “The key line in the song really is Move over and give us some room, because I do think women are very much taken for granted. I’m more an easygoing than a rabid feminist, but women in general are very supportive to me. History has made them like that. And this is not something that is always reciprocated.” She elaborates on this theme after Adrian’s extra-rad guitar solo.

    In 1995 Dummy won the prestigious Mercury Prize, awarded to the best album of the year from the United Kingdom or Ireland, beating out Oasis’s Definitely Maybe, Tricky’s Maxinquaye, PJ Harvey’s To Bring You My Love, and many other fine records, including a Van Morrison album I was unfamiliar with. I wouldn’t say Portishead recoiled from the spotlight, precisely, but Portishead put out a second album, self-titled, in 1997, in a vein similar to Dummy’s but just a little harsher, sharper, less … what’s the word? Warm. It’s not as warm. It’s still pretty great, though. What it doesn’t have is a “Glory Box.”

    To hear the full episode, click here. Subscribe here and check back every Wednesday for new episodes. And to preorder Rob’s new book, Songs That Explain the ’90s, visit the Hachette Book Group website.

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    Rob Harvilla

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  • The genre mashup Thirsty Suitors was a ‘refuge’ for its developers

    The genre mashup Thirsty Suitors was a ‘refuge’ for its developers

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    After nearly three years in development, Outerloop Games and Annapurna Interactive’s Thirsty Suitors was released on Nov. 2. From the beginning, the Outerloop Games team knew a few things: They wanted to make a game about relationships, and they wanted it to reflect the lived experience of its developers in telling an immigrant story. So much of the game was built out from there to create the wholly unique, genre-bending Thirsty Suitors — a game that blends its story up with cooking games, turn-based battles, and skateboarding.

    What you get is a video game that goes beyond its individual labels. In the lead-up to Thirsty Suitors’ Nov. 2 release date, Polygon spoke to Outerloop Games co-founder/Thirsty Suitors director Chandana Ekanayake and narrative designer Meghna Jayanth about the complex, “more is more” game that explores both trauma and joy while player-character Jala kickflips her way through her hometown.

    Image: Outerloop Games/Annapurna Interactive

    [Ed. note: This story has been edited for length and clarity.]

    Polygon: Thirsty Suitors is so many different things — turn-based fighting, cooking, romance. It’s an immigrant story, a skateboarding game. How did you pull all these elements together?

    Chandana Ekanayake: Where do I start? It starts with the theme and the stories we wanted to tell, and everything else stemmed from there. We wanted to do an immigrant story, because a lot of the folks on the team are — it’s a fully remote team made a lot of immigrants.

    That’s where we started. And then we knew we wanted to do a game about relationships. The battle system came out of that, like, how do we balance this argument personified into this battle, plus the writing, the dialogue back-and-forth. So from that, the story came through, throughout just a lot of iteration. Then we added the cooking — it was always gonna be a big part of it, because culturally it’s significant to be able to talk through things while cooking. And then skating was just something that made sense after — I don’t know, it just came about.

    Meghna Jayanth: I think skating began as a loading screen. There’s so much creativity on the team; it was really just a loading screen that people loved. And then we built it. Working as the narrative designer, week after week, I would come back and be like, Oh, it’s been two weeks. I haven’t checked in on this. Oh, we’re making a minigame. There’s a little bit of exuberance and creativity on the team.

    I think we pulled all of that in. Eka loves to call this a “baby Yakuza,” which I really love as a description. There’s really a sense of joyful abundance, like we’re presenting you with all of these delightful things to do, but hopefully it has some focus as well.

    With regard to skateboarding, it comes into the story as well. It’s the same with cooking. Did those parts grow throughout production? Or was it intended to be like that from the start?

    Ekanayake: It grew through production, but we also knew the narrative was the focus of the game. We wanted all these — and this is where the “baby Yakuza” comparison is — disparate game mechanics to weave in and out through the narrative. That came through iteration.

    The skate park became how Jala and Tyler bond, by doing her a bunch of these favors and trying to figure out what’s going on in the skate park. Cooking was also a way to bond with your parents and figure things out, because Jala hadn’t talked to them in years. You probably noticed that the stuff you cook at home, while there are great emotional beats, it also means you can use in battle too, as items.

    Jayanth: A lot of it comes down to the fact that we were able to work on this for about three years. We had an opportunity to figure out what the heart of the story was, what those themes were, and then play around with the narrative and mechanics and really iterate and have the time for that to develop. Big story ideas could change until eight, nine months before we shipped. We edited and significantly changed almost all the content in the game just before we went into voice recording. It’s an amazing opportunity to be able to develop ideas in that way, which you don’t often get given the production cycles of the games industry.

    Ekanayake: That was intentional because we knew the game was going to be so different. We needed time to figure it out. There’s 19 actors for 21 speaking characters in the game. Once we cast, Meghna was like, Oh, I’m going to write to this actor now because of how they deliver the lines. That was unexpected, different from what we actually envisioned on paper. It was a really fun process.

    Jayanth: We actually did a lot of rewriting on the fly in the sessions, too. It’s nice to be in those, because there’s a lot of very specific cultural context. Even the actors, we were really deliberate about making sure the actors matched the backgrounds of our characters. Even within that, there’s so much you could pick from someone. I’m from Bengaluru down south, and you could go down the street and meet somebody with a completely different sort of context.

    We did seven weeks of VO straight. We had a brief break in the middle so we could go outside.

    Jala works out with her aunt on a set of big tires

    Image: Outerloop Games/Annapurna Interactive

    Ekanayake: It’s fully remote, right? The team is spread across seven cities, four continents. We have folks in LA in the studio, folks in Vancouver and New York and Toronto. It was a really fun process. The biggest dramatic thing was our lead, who played Jala, Farah Merani, was very pregnant. It was a running clock to finish. She has, like, a third of the lines in the whole game. So her bag was packed in LA at the studio, ready to go. We finished and a week later she gave birth. It was that close

    Jayanth: We wrapped on a Thursday or Friday, and the following Tuesday, she was giving birth, which is amazing. We did have a little bit of a backup plan, which I’m so glad we didn’t have to institute, where maybe Aruni [a fantasy version of Jala’s sister, who is Jala’s inner voice] takes over Jala if we don’t get through those lines.

    Since we’re talking about production, let’s talk about what it was like for you to work on this game. You’ve both talked about how having a good, healthy production is important — to have people who are taken care of and treated well. Why is that important to you?

    Ekanayake: Mostly because we’ve had the opposite experience. This is my 25th year in games. I’ve worked on a lot of projects — bigger teams, smaller teams.

    Part of starting the studio fully remote six, almost seven, years ago was part of that, to be able to work-life balance a little better. We’re made up of a third brand-new folks who’ve never worked on games, a third somewhere in between, and then the rest are olds, like myself. We wanted to have a variety of experience and also get folks that have never worked on games some experience as well, because I think that’s important.

    That’s the great thing we can do remotely; people don’t have to move their whole lives for a job. We finished the game in almost three and a half years. The last two and half years have been fully four days a week. We started this during the pandemic, so people are going through all sorts of things, and we didn’t want the work to be another thing that was weighing on folks, while going through some hard times and trying to make the schedule work. The great thing is we control how big the game is. There’s no need to make it a certain size, which allowed us to have a flexible schedule. So people aren’t burnt out at the end of it.

    Jayanth: I’m not a manager, but it’s just been really wonderful to work with a team where all these production processes really work. We hit all of our internal deadlines, which is wild to me. I’m not sure that has ever happened.

    Ekanayake: We did extend the game a little bit just to try to figure out a launch window, which is so hard this year.

    Jayanth: We kind of built this game a little bit as a sense of refuge for us, particularly for marginalized folks and queer folks. It felt really important that we were doing that during the pandemic as well. Getting to work on this colorful, joyful world was a really nice escape for I think a lot of us on the team from what was going on outside. I think it’s really important to be able to do that while not burning yourself out. I do think that it’s a really important model in the industry, that there are alternative ways that we can do these things. We don’t want to be making these supposedly joyful games but burning people out and destroying them in the back end. At the end of the day, it is just a video game. I know we’re out here to sell this game and we want people to play it, and we’re really proud of it, but it is just a video game at the end of the day. And I think keeping that perspective is super important.

    Meghna, I know you’ve spoken a lot about capitalism and colonialism in games. Does Thirsty Suitors subvert that tendency of the games industry? It sounds like that influence goes beyond the game, but in studio practices as well. But in-game, all of the different layers of community building really stood out to me.

    Jayanth: What we really wanted to do with it was just kind of create a bit of a balance. I think you want a certain amount of familiarity and familiar mechanics, especially when you’re innovating on content and themes. I talked about this at my talk at NYU just last week, as well. In some ways, I feel like maybe the most radical thing that we are doing here is allowing the protagonist to inhabit this queer brown woman joyfully. It’s a sad thing that that’s still deeply unusual in the industry, but I do think that really pushes back against the narrative of who’s playing games, and also whose humanity is interesting to play, and what kind of fantasies — to open up the space for the different kinds of power fantasies that we can explore in games.

    I keep joking with my friends, whenever I’m explaining this to non-gamers, I’m like, “All right, the power fantasy of Thirsty Suitors is you get to speak up to your parents, tell them how you feel, and they listen and learn and grow. And the final boss is your maternal grandmother!” It’s about the fantasy of breaking cycles of generational trauma, which is very real, very human. And, yes, they’re very specific, but I think these are all really universal ideas.

    One of the things that actually we probably haven’t talked about that much that we did want to include is that this game was sort of set in the ’90s and Jala is in her mid-20s. She has a bit of a millennial vibe, because, I guess, we are — but we really wanted to have that idea of, she’s speaking up to her parents and the older generation, but also kind of being challenged on some of her bullshit by the kids at the skate park, who are way more radical in a way. Personally, I think Jala is a lot less radical than I am, which is fine, too. With the skate park, we get to challenge some of those narratives as well. Hopefully it feels more like being in conversation rather than preaching to anyone. It’s that feeling of being challenged and having accountability, and that being OK, and learning and growing and healing. All of which I think are wonderful things for us to model right now in the world.

    Ekanayake: Yeah, and also, it’s not just about Black and brown trauma, right? There’s the joys of the experience and the fantasies of it too. That’s pretty radical too, I think, for most game stories that come out these days. That was definitely intentional.

    I’m really into saying goodnight to Jala’s dad every night. It’s so sweet. I have been looking forward to Jala going home, and I wonder what they’re going to watch.

    Jayanth: I’m going to reveal a little secret. Some of the things you watch are actually Eka’s kids’ basketball games that he taped. It adds an extra layer of cuteness.

    Ekanayake: I think we have the history of Washington wines as read by one of the folks that helped us on VO. And then we have the history of trains.

    Jayanth: I think there’s a Cold War documentary, because all dads are obsessed with the Cold War.

    A massive version of Jala’s dad holds her in his hand

    Image: Outerloop Games/Annapurna Interactive

    I got that one last night, and I was like, Yep, yep.

    Jayanth: Getting to put this gentle brown dad in the game was just so lovely for us. And I think it was actually quite late in the process that we really found that cycle of, like, cooking in the morning, going to the skate park, to wandering downtown and then coming back home. That kind of cycle that started feeling really good for us, where players have some idea of what to expect — and another way I think that we are respectful of players is the game is about six to nine hours in total, which I love as a length. And also, the chapters are 40-minute-to-an-hour chunks, which is, I think, a respectful amount of time in someone’s day. There’s a really deliberate effort to put a whole narrative arc in that so that it feels satisfying without demanding too much of your time.

    Ekanayake: Yeah, we just want a little bit of your time. Not all of it.

    The game is also very funny, but has an earnest emotional core with Jala’s family and culture. How do you pull that off?

    Ekanayake: Being honest with ourselves, and taking that stuff seriously — just trying to find the truth in it and play with it, but also, we’re sincere about it.

    Jayanth: All of us care. In some ways, Nicole, it’s a little bit terrifying. It does feel really exposing. We’re so much less interested in ironic distance and with appearing cool. We all just really wanted to make something really human. There’s elements of writing and story there. But I also think it’s completely the animation, the light, everything, to the way that camera angles are framed. And of course the voice acting as well, which just adds just a huge layer of humanity back in there. But I hope it feels a little bit like real life. And hopefully there’s enough humor in there that we can pull off a few of the the sincere moments. I won’t deny that I would be extremely delighted if we made people cry. [laughs]

    Ekanayake: We found that through the beginning of the project. The first thing we built was the Sergio battle. And tonally, it was a lot meaner. Jala was a lot meaner to Sergio.

    Jayanth: Sergio was actually fully toxically masculine in what I consider to be an unacceptable way. But people liked him. [laughs]

    Ekanayake: People really liked him and felt bad for him. So Meghna reworked the dialogue, and that’s where we really found the tone for the game.

    Jayanth: That’s something that was really great that we got a chance to respond to. In doing that playtesting early, we found that, Oh, actually, people want much more to make friends with this person. Each of these suitors, we’re actually spending a significant amount of time in the game with them. People want to love them. And so instead of kind of trying to push against that, we just incorporated that into our storytelling.

    Initially, we had a design where you could choose to make up with the characters, or you could choose to basically be enemies as well, or it could be based on narrative choices. But I think as we went on, the game just turned into one about reconciliation and healing. And so none of the characters you meet are on unremittingly evil in any way. They’re certainly flawed, and I like some of them more than others, but they’re all just human beings attempting to make sense of life, basically.

    Ekanayake: Meghna and I are both are older game developers, and I think the later we get into our career and projects, especially on this one, we let the game tell us what it wants to be through the course of development. There’s this risky and scary but really exciting part of it where it’s just like, We think we know what we’re gonna build, but leave enough room for some magic to happen and for the game to figure itself out. That really happened on this project. It doesn’t always happen, but I think being open to it really worked out for us on this project.

    Tyler, a punk skateboarder, stands next to a bear mascot in an abandoned theme park

    Image: Outerloop Games/Annapurna Interactive

    I want to talk a little about music too. It feels like 1990s hip-hop with South Asian influence. What was your approach to creating music that matched the vibe of Thirsty Suitors?

    Ekanayake: For the exes battles, we were kind of thinking about ’90s music videos, when music videos were a big deal. We’re looking at the theatrical, over-the-top aspect of the spaces and those videos and trying to find a piece of music to match each of the characters and themes. So like everything else, just lots of time and iteration.

    Jayanth: I love the vocals in it, which are just so beautiful. It was wonderful for us to have some Tamil in the vocals. I would say that’s really unusual in games, but this year we’ve come out alongside Venba.

    You can really see there’s a lot of ’90s hip-hop meets anime meets South Asia. It’s a “more is more” aesthetic.

    Ekanayake: Because of the fantastical spaces and the surreal nature of some of the battles, we were able to really push the music to fit those colors and themes, too.

    Jayanth: I’ve been secretly sneaking our playlist onto my party playlist and everybody’s like, Oh, that’s really good. Hopefully you see some of that joy. And that’s what it’s been like working on this. Every single person has just put so much love into it. Every single day, when [Thirsty Suitors composer Ramsey Kharroubi] drops a track or [animator Aung Zaw Oo] does a new piece of animation, or a new piece of writing goes in, it just reignites the inspiration for each one of us.

    Ekanayake: It’s a 15-person team, so everyone has something significant that they can contribute at this scale. Everyone can point to something in the game and go, “I did that.” That’s what I like about this scale we’re at, too.

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    Nicole Carpenter

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  • Kachow! Lightning McQueen is racing into Rocket League

    Kachow! Lightning McQueen is racing into Rocket League

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    A collaboration between Rocket League, the video game where you play soccer but as a car, and Disney and Pixar’s Cars franchise is such an obvious match that it’s strange it took till now to happen. But better late than never, and now Lightning McQueen himself is racing into Rocket League. Kachow!

    The Lightning McQueen cosmetic bundle hits the game on Nov. 7. The McQueen car body will be the very first in the game to come with dynamic expression. This means that the Lightning McQueen car’s eyes will move and blink and change depending on what’s going on in the game. He wouldn’t be lightning without that cocky smile, after all!

    There are also three new decals to mix up Lightning’s look: the classic racetrack red, the spruced up shiny deep crimson, and a Dinoco Blue fit. There are also new wheels to choose from, including the iconic whitewall wheels promoted by Radiator Springs residents Luigi and Guido.

    The bundle also includes a Ka-chow Goal Explosion, a Lightning McQueen Player Banner. and a “Life Is A Highway” Player Anthem by Rascal Flatts. It’ll be available for 2500 credits.

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    Petrana Radulovic

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  • Overwatch 2’s Mauga always had two guns — but it took time to get them ‘just right’

    Overwatch 2’s Mauga always had two guns — but it took time to get them ‘just right’

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    Blizzard revealed the latest hero to join the ever-growing roster of its shooter Overwatch 2 at Blizzcon 2023. During an interview at the convention, Polygon got more details about Mauga, what players can expect from him, and the process of creating a new tank.

    “Mauga is a damaged-based tank, and how he sustains himself and his team is through damage,” said lead hero designer Alec Dawson. He was designed based on his weapons, with his abilities centered around doing as much damage as possible. The designers hope this focus on damage will make him more appealing to new players.

    The team wanted to ensure his abilities felt good when using both chain guns, but they also wanted to make sure players couldn’t “wipe people out immediately.” To combat that, Mauga has a big spread on both of his guns. At the same time, this makes him a threat in close quarters. “You don’t want to play with Mauga up close unless you know you’re going to take him out,” said Dawson.

    Mauga’s Overrun charging ability makes him virtually unstoppable, even against sleep darts. “He uses it to get where he wants to go,” said Dawson. For a nice cherry on top, whenever Mauga directly hits an opponent while using Overrun, he’ll slam them to the ground, stunning them while other nearby opponents will be sent flying.

    Image: Blizzard Entertainment

    Mauga’s ultimate, Cage Fight, creates a zone that traps opponents and blocks healing from the outside of it. What makes his ultimate even more dangerous is that Cage Fight stays active even if Mauga dies. Support hero Lifeweaver can pull Mauga out of the ultimate, but the enemy players will still be trapped inside until the ability runs out.

    Even though he’s a tank, Mauga can do more damage than some DPS heroes, said Dawson. To counter that, opposing teams can attack Mauga while he’s reloading or has burned through his abilities. “He’s such a big body that he really needs support. He needs a high healing output to keep him up at times.”

    When it came to creating Mauga, the dev team worked closely with a culture consultant team to ensure the studio displayed him in a way that would be respectful to the Samoan community. “We worked with a traditional tattoo artist from the Samoan culture to guide us. We tried to get as authentic as possible and as close to real as our engines could handle. And it turned out great,” said hero design producer Kenny Hudson.

    Tank fighter Mauga stretches out his chest and flexes, his yelling face upturned towards the sky

    Image: Blizzard Entertainment

    When Mauga was first being tested, the team originally had one iteration where his right gun only dealt critical damage to enemies in the air to help tanks fight flying-based heroes. As time went on, the team scrapped that, and now the right gun deals critical damage whenever an enemy is set on fire first with his left gun. But the idea to have him use two big guns was something the dev team always intended to do. “We always kinda knew that he was going to be a tank with two big main guns, and we wanted to make them just as important and just as useful to players as the other one. We didn’t want one to outshine the other,” said Hudson.

    One of the challenges the dev team faced was making the visual cues noticeable to players when Mauga uses his Cardiac Overdrive ability, which allows Mauga and his team members to heal whenever they damage an opponent. So the dev team revisited an old idea where Roadhog’s ability would heal everyone around him. This helped them find the “sweet spot” of not overwhelming the player with too much going on screen. “We don’t like throwing things away. Even if it doesn’t work out for a certain hero, it can come back later on for another one,” said senior test analyst Foster Elmendorf. To help further prove their point, Elmendorf explained how Mauga’s ultimate was originally D.va’s, which involved her making “a dome of lasers.”

    The team has been working on Mauga for some time. Originally, he was supposed to be released in season 2 instead of Ramattra, “but the team really wanted to take some more time to get the kit just right,” said Dawson. Pushing Mauga back allowed the dev team to polish him up and ensure his abilities played smoothly with one another.

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    Luis Joshua Gutierrez

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  • Retro game streamer AshSaidHi built a lively community out of nostalgia

    Retro game streamer AshSaidHi built a lively community out of nostalgia

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    Surrounded by a sizable, colorful cascade of plushies — largely Nintendo-themed — and an impressive retro game collection, Ash goes live on Twitch five days a week. She’s played everything from Bethesda’s The Elder Scrolls 4: Oblivion to Sierra Entertainment’s Quest for Glory, focusing on games that evoke a sense of nostalgia. The one thing that stays the same each stream is the way Ash ends them, with a message to her viewers: “Don’t forget to tell your friends Ash said hi!”

    When Ash, who goes by AshSaidHi online, first envisioned her Twitch channel, she started with the name. “I knew I had to have a tagline or a call to action,” she told Polygon. “That’s where the name AshSaidHi comes from, because I wanted it to be like, Oh, that friend, they told me to tell you hi. It sticks in your brain a little bit.”

    Over the years since Ash started her Twitch channel in 2019, she’s worked to build a community and a business that matches her values — a place where she could have a work-life balance that her previous career didn’t allow for, and a community of support Twitch can provide.

    “People go to Twitch to connect about the things they love and find other people that are into the things they love,” Ash said. “That’s how I built an engaging community.”

    Ahead of TwitchCon 2023 in Las Vegas, Polygon spoke to Ash about how she’s carved out her own space on Twitch.

    [Ed. note: This interview has been edited for length and clarity.]

    Polygon: First, I just want to let you know I love the collection in the background.

    AshSaidHi: Thank you! That’s years and years of work. My parents got me into video gaming when I was really young. Even my mom, she still plays video games. I texted her the other day and was like, “Did you download Lies of P?” and she was like, “Yeah, but I really like Lords of the Fallen.” And I was like, “What?”

    She’s a big Soulsborne, like Elden Ring, player. She just bought a PS5 and was like, “When are you getting a PS5?” I was like, “Mom, I play retro games on Twitch. OK?”

    I know you started your Twitch channel in 2019. What prompted you to start streaming?

    I was working in an industry where I didn’t have a work-life balance. And after I left it, I was like, Oh, I want to get into content creation. And I got into a different industry. It allowed me time to create content. So I was like, I think I’m gonna start on Twitch. I have a degree in advertising. The first thing I wanted to do was create a concept for my channel. And I knew I had to have like a tagline or a call to action. So that’s where the name AshSaidHi comes from, because I wanted it to be like, Oh, that friend, they told me to tell you hi. It sticks in your brain a little bit. And so it’s like, “Oh, don’t forget to tell your friends Ash said hi.” That’s how I always wanted to end my videos.

    I started on Tetris 99 and Breath of the Wild. Those were the first games I broadcast on Twitch. But I have this big backlog of video games. Why don’t I start getting into retro games? And that’s how it it really snowballed. I got into a retro games, and the community was wonderful. They taught me the ropes, I met a lot of friends — friends that I still have to this day. It changed my life for the better in so many different ways.

    I really, really love being a creator on Twitch. The magic is in the sense of community that you get when you meet people and they share the love of the same things. I met like people who were into Amiga 500 gaming, and Commodore and NES and Super Nintendo and all that kind of stuff. I knew I found my people.

    Do you stream full time?

    It’s what I mainly spend my time doing. It’s always a funny question because when people say “stream full time on Twitch,” they imagine it means eight hours a day, five days a week. But I think it means that I put all my focus on it. I do a lot of sponsorship work and a lot of offline work for my channel. So technically, yes.

    How long did it take to get to the point where you could spend that time on Twitch and the business behind it?

    I started in 2019 and then I got Twitch Partner in November 2020. And I was like, OK, wait a minute, people really like what I’m doing here. I have an engaging community, I try to never miss a message in chat — I literally have chat up on like three or four screens.

    Once I hit Partner, I found out about the Twitch Ambassador program, because I saw somebody with a check and I clicked it. I applied and talked about all the skills that I had learned. And I talked about why I was passionate for what I do. They called me back a few months later and were like, “We want to invite you into the program.”

    I was announced March 2021, and at the time, they also had a billboard in Times Square. I’m originally from New York, but I no longer live there. They put my picture up on that billboard. And at that point, it kind of gave me a kind of sense that there’s credibility to what I’m doing, which is really important for me. I flew up from where I live back up to New York, and I told my mom and she was freaking out. It was such a surreal moment. For me, in my hometown — the crossroads of the world — here is a picture of me. Then it snowballed from there. I knew I wanted to take it seriously.

    One of the things that I do that helps me sustain my business is sponsored broadcast. Because of my professional background, and the way that I communicate — I work on trying to build good bonds with developers or marketing people. I make sure that I do my due diligence, to be on time and to be mindful in the moment and be professional. Whenever I’m called upon for a job, I put a lot of pride into what I’m doing. I knew things were getting serious when people started paying me to play video games.

    I love that it allows me freedom to be able to travel to things like TwitchCon. And it allows me to go spend time with my mom, or to just take time to relax, like I can have that work-life balance and not have to request this time off or things like that. And my mom is really proud of me. When I talk about it to my family members, they’re always so happy for the things that I’m doing.

    It’s cool to hear you talk about that work-life balance, because I think sometimes when you hear about people doing Twitch, it can be grinding out streams for 12 hours straight. It’s nice that you’re able to have a balance.

    That’s key, right? I can’t do my best work if I’m not taking care of myself. I understand why that’s the mindset of constantly streaming, like you’re not discoverable if you’re not live sometimes. That’s the conundrum. But I do feel like if you put your time and effort into things like, I’m going to start writing a little bit, or I’m going to start making short video that I can post on social media so people can get a sense of who I am. Even when I’m not broadcasting, people can find AshSaidHi. When I’m not live, those things helped me bridge the gaps.

    What have you learned since you started streaming about carving out that engaging community you mentioned earlier?

    I learned to be authentically myself — be present in the moment. I always tell people this when they meet me in person, that you’re meeting the Ash that you see on camera. I’m always talking about my mom and my dad and how they got me into video games. I feel like I’m sharing the best parts of myself — what I grew up with.

    I talk about food all the time on my channel. If you meet me, I know all the places in New York where you could get some good food, you know what I’m saying? Like, that is like a big part of who I am. I love Star Trek, I love Nintendo, I love drawing, I love all of those things. And I love sharing those things with people. Being excited about the things that we love… I think that’s key — being able to share the things about you would that you could connect with people.

    I think that that’s also the magic of Twitch — connecting with people. It’s a people platform first to me. We go on there, we play video games — whether it’s playing video games or cooking, exercising, ASMR, chatting or whatever it is on Twitch. People go there to connect with people. People go to Twitch to connect about the things they love and find other people that are into the things they love. That’s how I built an engaging community.

    What should people know about your career as a streamer, or about Twitch itself?

    I would love to share the power of community on Twitch. There is the Twitch Women’s Guild, which is incredible, because not only does it connect women and empower women to be who they are on Twitch, but it’s a place where we cheer each other on. It is a safe space for us to kind of talk about the things that impact us in our daily lives as broadcasters.

    I did a Creator Camp with some of the women that are in that group and it was incredible. And I also did a show called Streamer Strategies. I try to do a show once a month where we talk about different strategies that you might be thinking about for streaming. The first one I did was creative monetization. But the next one I did was collaboration. I feel like a lot of really wonderful opportunities come from being able to connect with other people like that. And it’s such a great program. It’s one of the best things that Twitch created because it gives us a space to learn. And it gives us a space to speak about our experiences. They also give a lot of tools to us to help us extend our skills.

    Especially for women, Black people, people of color, things like that solidify the fact that we belong in this space. And I think that it is so important to inspire people who feel like they don’t know if they belong, right? Because we see so much of that. I’m really grateful for all of those opportunities that I’ve been given. I just want to make sure that people know how awesome those kinds of tools and resources are, because without things like that, you question whether or not you can do it.

    How many times have you worked on something and people are like, “Oh, can you really do it?” They’re questioning your intelligence, or they’re saying, “You just got by on, like, certain qualities.” But no — there’s so many hardworking individuals that get a space because of things like that. I just love that space for us.

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    Nicole Carpenter

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  • Gen V is the rare show that’s shorter than it should be

    Gen V is the rare show that’s shorter than it should be

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    Gen V’s first six episodes are remarkably tight. The Boys’ spinoff series immediately establishes its place in the larger universe, and quickly introduces us to an entire cast of characters, a unique superhero university, and a secret conspiracy in just a few short hours. Despite its relatively large cast of characters, Gen V manages to give each one time to shine in their own storylines, letting them all have problems — both personal and superpowered — that just make for great television. All the while, all of the teen drama seamlessly filters back into the conspiracy thriller literally underneath the school, as the kids discover the mysteries of The Woods. But Gen V’s last two episodes run into a unique problem: They move too fast.

    [Ed. note: This post contains spoilers for Gen V season 1.]

    Gen V’s seventh and eighth episodes cover a lot of ground very quickly. After the cliffhanger twist of episode 6 (that Cate has been manipulating the group the whole time), the gang learns that Indira Shetty’s ultimate plan with The Woods is to create a virus that will kill anyone with Compound V in their system. Cate decides she’s flipping sides completely. She kills Shetty, who had been manipulating her, and frees the kids from The Woods, telling them that they’re better than humans and that humans don’t deserve to live — a message Sam gets on board with fast. For Marie, Jordan, Emma, and Andre, however, all of this is too much bloodshed to stomach, and they start fighting Cate, Sam, and the kids from The Woods. As chaos breaks out at God U, the powers that be finally call in a little assistance, and Homelander shows up to put a stop to everything.

    If this all sounds a little harried, that’s because it is. What started as a carefully plotted series, full of scenes of teens working out complex (and not so complex) emotions and dealing with the moral ramifications of having powers, suddenly devolves into a massive CGI brawl. The huge fight feels out of step with everything that’s come before it. It’s exactly the kind of ending you might expect from a Marvel movie that takes a left turn into punching just as the third act begins.

    Image: Prime Video

    That’s not to say that Gen V’s first season shouldn’t have ended in a fight — just that it shouldn’t have ended in a fight this quickly. The fight should have been set up better, allowing the teenage characters’ emotions the space to bubble over until all they knew how to do was fight their way out. It’s a bad time for the show’s first emotional shortcut. The eight-episode season abandons the delicate pacing of the show’s fantastic early chapters to rush through plot points and motivation in the back half.

    But with just a couple more episodes, which would ultimately give the season a very standard 10 episodes, it might have been much easier to swallow the way that Cate and Sam’s systematic abuse caused them to turn to wanton violence, or why their friends couldn’t talk them out of it and decided to fight them instead. Episodes 7 and 8 feel like the microwave version of Gen V. They’re still pretty good, but not nearly as great as the slow-cooked setup.

    The good news for the show is that the too-quick ending doesn’t take away from how great the rest of the season was. And all things considered, there are much worse problems to have than leaving people wanting more — Gen V is the rare show that could be improved with more rather than less. Regardless of the chaotic frenzy that ended season 1, the setup for Gen V’s second season is easy to see and exciting to think about. The core of the heroes being trapped feels like great fodder for a prison break, and Cate and Sam having to figure out what to do now that they’re not under anyone’s thumb should be fascinating. Despite the season’s sudden ending, this series is still filled with fantastic characters, and the deftness of the first half of the season has earned the creative team some benefit of the doubt going forward. But let’s hope season 2 gets all the episodes it needs to do its story justice.

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    Austen Goslin

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  • Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse on Netflix, A Haunting in Venice, and every new movie to watch this weekend

    Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse on Netflix, A Haunting in Venice, and every new movie to watch this weekend

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    Happy Friday, Polygon readers! Each week, we round up the most notable releases to streaming and video rental, highlighting the biggest and best new movies for you to watch at home.

    This week’s biggest debut is Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, which is now streaming on Netflix. That’s not all, as Insidious: The Red Door — the fifth installment in the Insidious horror franchise — also arrives on the platform this week alongside Jawan, one of the biggest Indian action movies of the year. There’s plenty more exciting releases this week too, with A Haunting in Venice now streaming on Hulu, the Italian superhero movie Freaks vs. the Reich on Prime Video, plus the premiere of The Kill Room and Outlaw Johnny Black from director-star Michael Jai White on VOD.

    Here’s everything new to watch this weekend!


    New on Netflix

    Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

    Where to watch: Available to stream on Netflix

    Image: Sony Pictures Animation

    Genre: Superhero action
    Run time: 2h 20m
    Director: Joaquim Dos Santos, Kemp Powers, Justin K. Thompson
    Cast: Shameik Moore, Hailee Steinfeld, Oscar Isaac

    The highly anticipated follow-up to 2018’s Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse sees Miles Morales facing off not only against a dimension-hopping nemesis in the form of the Spot, but a whole multiverse of Spider-Mans, Spider-People, and even a Spider-Dinosaur as he attempts to save the day once again.

    From our multiversal review:

    Not every theme and plot and moment in Across the Spider-Verse lands, particularly with the other part of this story still most of a year away. But in the end, the theme of the Spider-Verse movies is shaping up to be a story about people trying to be bigger and bolder themselves, trying to reach beyond what they’re told they’re capable of, and do more. It’s no wonder that every part of Across the Spider-Verse is an attempt to outdo the first movie. The idea of growing, of surpassing and ignoring everyone else’s limits, is the heart of this series’ heroes and their individual journeys. It looks like the movies themselves are designed to follow suit.

    Jawan

    Where to watch: Available to stream on Netflix

    A man sitting in a dark train car speaking into a radio and surrounded by hostages in Jawan.

    Image: Red Chillies Entertainment

    Genre: Action thriller
    Run time: 2h 50m
    Director: Atlee
    Cast: Shah Rukh Khan, Nayanthara, Vijay Sethupathi

    The biggest Indian movie of the year has landed on Netflix. Directed by Atlee (Mersal), Jawan features megastar Shah Rukh Khan (between this and Pathaan, he is truly back) and is basically “Robin Hood meets Charlie’s Angels.”

    Insidious: The Red Door

    Where to watch: Available to stream on Netflix Saturday

    Regular Insidious series character Dalton (Ty Simpkins), now grown into a shaggy-haired teenager, screams in a dark, dreary room in Insidious: The Red Door

    Image: Sony Pictures Entertainment

    Genre: Supernatural horror
    Run time: 1h 47m
    Director: Patrick Wilson
    Cast: Ty Simpkins, Patrick Wilson, Rose Byrne

    The fifth movie in the Insidious franchise is the directorial debut for star Patrick Wilson. It’s also a sequel to Insidious: Chapter 2, as the last two movies in the franchise were prequels.

    From our review:

    As a director, Wilson isn’t as effortless a horror ringmaster as Wan or Whannell: He favors more actor-centric scares than wild imagery. But he makes great use of expressive close-ups (often of himself) and shallow focus, with a few creepy It Follows-like shots of blurry figures approaching from the distance, and a terrifically claustrophobic scene inside an MRI machine. Dalton’s college story, meanwhile, occasionally borders on campus-prank zaniness: It includes what can only be described as a puke ghost, and there’s one amusing use of the horror movie cliche about the haunted little kid who makes terrifying drawings of the ghouls only he can see. (Naturally, that kid grows up to become a star pupil in an insufferable freshman art class.)

    Sly

    Where to watch: Available to stream on Netflix

    Sylvester Stallone walking through a neighborhood in Sly.

    Image: Netflix

    Genre: Documentary
    Run time: 1h 35m
    Director: Thom Zimny
    Cast: Sylvester Stallone, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Quentin Tarantino

    This documentary takes a close look at the life of one of the great American movie stars and film writers: Sylvester Stallone.

    Nyad

    Where to watch: Available to stream on Netflix

    Annette Bening as Diana Nyad swimming in the ocean in Nyad.

    Photo: Liz Parkinson/Netflix

    Genre: Biographical sports drama
    Run time: 2h 1m
    Directors: Jimmy Chin, Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi
    Cast: Jodie Foster, Annette Bening, Rhys Ifans

    Nyad tells the (questionably) true story of swimmer Diana Nyad, who swam from Cuba to Florida at 64 years old, among many other swimming accomplishments.

    Wingwomen

    Where to watch: Available to stream on Netflix

    (L-R) Mélanie Laurent and Adèle Exarchopoulos in Wingwomen.

    Photo: Gael Turpo/Netflix

    Genre: Action
    Run time: 1h 56m
    Director: Mélanie Laurent
    Cast: Mélanie Laurent, Adèle Exarchopoulos, Isabelle Adjani

    Mélanie Laurent (Inglourious Basterds) is both behind and in front of the camera in this action comedy about women thieves on the run looking to pull off one last job.

    New on Hulu

    A Haunting in Venice

    Where to watch: Available to stream on Hulu

    Kenneth Branagh’s Hercule Poirot, standing in a dark room. A cross hangs on the wall behind him.

    Image: 20th Century Studios

    Genre: Horror mystery
    Run time: 1h 43m
    Director: Kenneth Branagh
    Cast: Kenneth Branagh, Michelle Yeoh, Jamie Dornan

    Kenneth Branagh’s Poirot adaptations have generally been a fun time, even when they have problems (looking at you, Death on the Nile). A Haunting in Venice is his best yet, as Branagh’s confidence as director and performer in this mode only continues to grow. It’s perfect fall viewing.

    Quiz Lady

    Where to watch: Available to stream on Hulu

    (L-R) Awkwafina and Sandra Oh in Quiz Lady.

    Image: Hulu

    Genre: Comedy
    Run time: 1h 39m
    Director: Jessica Yu
    Cast: Awkwafina, Sandra Oh, Will Ferrell

    Sandra Oh and Awkwafina play a pair of estranged sisters who try to win big on a game show to pay off their mom’s debts. The supporting cast includes Will Ferrell, Jason Schwartzman, Tony Hale, and the late Paul Reubens.

    New on Prime Video

    Freaks vs. the Reich

    Where to watch: Available to stream on Prime Video

    (L-R) Aurora Giovinazzo, Giancarlo Martini, Claudio Santamaria and Pietro Castellitto in Freaks vs. the Reich.

    Image: VMI Releasing

    Genre: Superhero/circus war movie
    Run time: 2h 21m
    Director: Gabriele Mainetti
    Cast: Claudio Santamaria, Aurora Giovinazzo, Pietro Castellitto

    This offbeat Italian superhero movie follows a group of circus performers in World War II who are sought after by the Nazis and team up to stop them. I have heard it’s funny, sweet, and has strong action — definitely on my weekend watchlist.

    New on Peacock

    My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3

    Where to watch: Available to stream on Peacock

    (L-R) John Corbett, Maria Vacratsis, Melina Kotselou, Nia Vardalos, Elena Kampouris, Andrea Martin, and Elias Kacavas posing for a photo in My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3.

    Photo: Yannis Drakoulidis/Focus Features

    Genre: Romantic comedy
    Run time: 1h 32m
    Director: Nia Vardalos
    Cast: Nia Vardalos, John Corbett, Louis Mandylor

    One of cinema’s most endearingly goofy families is back, in the most family-centric franchise this side of the Fast and Furious movies. It’s the first Greek Wedding movie since 2016, which came nearly 15 years after the original smash hit. This time, star-writer Nia Vardalos takes over directorial duties, following up her 2009 directorial debut I Hate Valentine’s Day.

    New on AMC Plus

    Sympathy for the Devil

    Where to watch: Available to stream on AMC Plus

    A bearded Nicholas Cage in a red suit aiming a gun from the backseat of a car and smiling maniacally in Sympathy for the Devil.

    Image: RLJE Films

    Genre: Psychological thriller
    Run time: 1h 30m
    Director: Yuval Adler
    Cast: Nicolas Cage, Joel Kinnaman

    A largely two-person movie that sounds a bit like Collateral, Sympathy for the Devil stars Nicolas Cage as a passenger who holds a driver (Joel Kinnaman) hostage on a long car trip.

    New to rent

    Paw Patrol: The Mighty Movie

    Where to watch: Available to rent on Amazon, Apple, and Vudu

    A boy in an armored suit flanked by several dogs in similar armored suits standing on a cliffside overlooking an ocean and sunset sky in Paw Patrol: The Mighty Movie.

    Image: Paramount Pictures

    Genre: Action adventure
    Run time: 1h 35m
    Director: Cal Brunker
    Cast: Mckenna Grace, Taraji P. Henson, Marsai Martin

    The Paw Patrol is back — this sequel to the first movie sees the pup get superpowers in their quest to stop Mayor Humdinger from destroying Adventure City.

    The Kill Room

    Where to watch: Available to rent on Amazon, Apple, and Vudu

    (L-R) Samuel L. Jackson and Uma Thurman in The Kill Room.

    Image: Shout! Studios

    Genre: Dark comedy thriller
    Run time: 1h 38m
    Director: Nicol Paone
    Cast: Joe Manganiello, Samuel L. Jackson, Uma Thurman

    Joe Manganiello stars as a hitman turned artist in this funny comedy about how the worlds of fine art and high crime aren’t so separated after all. When he turns to art as a method of laundering money, the hitman becomes an unexpected overnight sensation in the high-art scene.

    Outlaw Johnny Black

    Where to watch: Available to rent on Amazon, Apple, and Vudu

    (L-R) Erica Ash and Michael Jai White in Outlaw Johnny Black.

    Image: Samuel Goldwyn Films

    Genre: Satirical Western
    Run time: 2h 10m
    Director: Michael Jai White
    Cast: Michael Jai White, Anika Noni Rose, Erica Ash

    Michael Jai White’s long-awaited follow-up to Black Dynamite is finally here: a “West-ploitation” movie about an outlaw who pretends to be a preacher and settles in a new troubled town. The star and director spoke to us at length about the movie and the long road it took to get here.

    Sound of Freedom

    Where to watch: Available to rent on Amazon, Apple, and Vudu

    Jim Caviezel as Tim Ballard comforting a child in Sound of Freedom.

    Image: Angel Studios/VidAngel Studios

    Genre: Crime thriller
    Run time: 2h 11m
    Director: Alejandro Gómez Monteverde
    Cast: Jim Caviezel, Mira Sorvino, Bill Camp

    One of the most surprising (and controversial) box-office hits of the year, Sound of Freedom purports to be a true story about stopping child trafficking. The truth is much more complicated than that.

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    Pete Volk

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  • ‘Loki’ Season 2, Episode 5 Recap: (Origin) Stories We Tell Ourselves

    ‘Loki’ Season 2, Episode 5 Recap: (Origin) Stories We Tell Ourselves

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    Last week’s episode of Loki ended with the biggest cliff-hanger of the season. After Loki and his friends at the TVA failed to repair the Temporal Loom in time, the device was torn apart, emitting a blinding light in the process that soon consumed everything in its path. In “Science/Fiction,” Loki emerges from that light to find himself alone at the TVA, with no trace of anyone else left behind. To make matters worse, he begins to slip in time again, with his body apt to disappear and reappear elsewhere at any moment.

    With a little bit of help, Loki soon turns his time-slipping problem into a solution that might just save his friends and everyone else, in every timeline. “Science/Fiction” is one of the strongest episodes of the second season, a character-driven departure that slows the show’s recent frenetic pacing and gives the series a chance to reset in myriad ways ahead of next week’s finale. Loki has been moving so fast lately that some of its characters have been lost in the mix, but the penultimate episode takes stock of where they are in their journeys and even answers some questions that have lingered since the very beginning of the series. Perhaps above all else, the fans have finally gotten what they wanted: Mobius on a Jet Ski.

    Screenshots via Disney+

    In the fifth episode of the first season, Loki left the TVA behind to travel to the Void, introducing a strange new setting that explained the true nature of the organization’s pruning methods. This season’s fifth episode, “Science/Fiction,” transports the audience not to a bold new world, but rather to the past lives of Loki’s friends at the TVA, with Loki again serving as our guide. Mobius, for one, is revealed to be a man named Don who’s living on a branched timeline in Cleveland in 2022. He’s a single father of two children and a salesman of Jet Skis and other action sports equipment. (But mainly Jet Skis, of course.) The most important friend who Loki reunites with, though, proves to be Ouroboros, whom Loki finds on another branched timeline in Pasadena, California, in 1994.

    In O.B.’s original timeline, he’s actually a struggling science-fiction writer named A.D. Doug who happens to also be a scientist teaching theoretical physics at Caltech. His love for science fiction means that he not only immediately believes Loki’s nonsensical story about time travel and the TVA, but is also able to get up to speed hilariously quickly to help Loki make sense of the perplexing situation he’s found himself in with this seemingly random time-slipping phenomenon.

    “It isn’t random, because you keep ending up around exactly the people you’re looking for,” A.D. speculates. “And it’s evolving, because you’re not just slipping in time, you’re also moving around in space. It’s like you’re a better version of one of those TemPads.”

    Like some sort of time-travel guru, A.D. helps Loki turn his time-slipping dilemma into an asset that can be used to their advantage. That process begins with Loki identifying the reason it’s happening to him in the first place. “With science, it’s all ‘what’ and ‘how,’” A.D. continues. “But with fiction, it’s ‘why.’ So why do you need to do this?”

    “Why do I need to do this? I’ll tell you why,” Loki replies. “Because if I can’t save the TVA from being destroyed, there will be nothing to protect against what’s coming.”

    This framework of “fiction” and stories proves to be the throughline for the entire episode, and the question of “why” turns out to be a crucial step in Loki eventually mastering his time slipping. But this mastery doesn’t come easily. Loki ends up slipping in time again after he gives a copy of the TVA guidebook to A.D. and then reappears at Mobius’s home (or, rather, Don’s home). As Loki struggles to explain to Don the bizarre circumstances of the threat they all face, A.D. emerges with a newly-built TemPad, the construction of which required him to make some unfortunate sacrifices:

    (Ke Huy Quan continues to be a delight in this series; his comedic timing here is impeccable.)

    It took 19 months, the dissolution of his marriage, and the loss of his job, but A.D. was able to build his world’s first time machine, providing Loki with the tool he needs to get the TVA band back together. Loki proceeds to recruit B-15 and Casey to the TVA’s cause, failing only when it comes to Sylvie, the one person other than Loki who actually remembers what happened at the TVA. The God of Mischief is left rudderless after having a little heart-to-heart with Sylvie at a bar in Broxton, Oklahoma, and just for a moment, Loki gives up on saving the TVA.

    It isn’t until Sylvie returns from a spaghettified Broxton that Loki is vindicated in his quest to bring everyone back to the TVA. Soon, A.D.’s workshop receives the spaghetti treatment as well, and Loki finally manifests his ability to control his time slipping, reversing the catastrophic events just enough to revive his friends and explain his breakthrough. “It’s not about where, when, or why,” Loki says to the group. “It’s about who. I can rewrite the story.”

    “Science/Fiction” ends with Loki slipping back in time and space to return to the TVA, before the Loom was ever destroyed. He’s given himself a second chance to save the TVA and the dying branches of the multiverse, and with this new ability at his disposal, he might be able to do it. Loki continues to play around with time loops in Season 2, with time slipping reemerging just ahead of the finale. With this discovery transforming Loki into something of a human TemPad, saving the TVA could be just the beginning of what he’s capable of changing.

    Past Lives

    “Science/Fiction” works so well in part because of the extra time it affords some of the key players in Season 2. As Loki gives us glimpses into the past lives of every member of Team Loki, we can see reflections of the characters they become in the TVA, even after their individual histories and idiosyncrasies are stripped away.

    The first character we’re reintroduced to is Casey, in the form of a man named Frank in 1962 San Francisco who’s escaping prison. More specifically, Casey is revealed to be none other than Frank Morris, one of three real-life inmates who escaped Alcatraz in June 1962 after placing papier-mâché heads in their beds, breaking out through ventilation ducts and utility corridors, and using an inflatable raft to navigate their way off of the island. As in the Season 1 flashback that revealed Loki to be D.B. Cooper, the series puts a playful twist on a strange moment in history, adding a bit of science fiction to flesh out some of the unexplained details surrounding the story. Casey’s origins are a bit of an anomaly, in that we don’t see too much of this crafty Frank Mason character in the man we’re familiar with at the TVA, but perhaps that’s unsurprising given how recently Eugene Cordero has emerged as a more prominent member of the cast. (There is, however, a little callback to Season 1 as Frank mentions the prospect of them getting gutted like fish, an analogy that Casey couldn’t wrap his head around when Loki threatened him with it in the pilot.)

    As for B-15’s past life, we learn that she was a doctor in New York City in 2012. (That’s certainly an interesting time to be living in New York in the history of the MCU, but the fact that she doesn’t seem to recognize the God of Mischief makes it seem as if the Battle of New York hasn’t happened in this timeline.) The conversations between Loki and Dr. Willis are brief, but in a scene that focuses on the doctor and one of her young patients, we see the same sort of caring and compassionate individual that B-15 has become in Season 2. She has proved to be absolutely terrible at crisis management at the TVA, but her driving motivation to save lives remains the same.

    The alternate versions of Mobius and O.B. take on larger roles in “Science/Fiction” than the other supporting TVA members, and their previously-hidden histories can be seen even more clearly in their lives at the TVA. Don’s obsession with Jet Skis has obviously shown through in Mobius, but more enlightening than anything else is the sudden introduction of Don’s two sons. Earlier in the season, “Breaking Brad” teased the mystery of Mobius’s previous life on the Sacred Timeline, and in Mobius’s fierce objection to discovering his history, Loki revealed a more vulnerable side to a typically nonchalant guy who enjoys the simple pleasures of life and cares about the TVA more than anything else. Although “Science/Fiction” illuminates where Mobius’s personality traits come from, it also shows the responsibility and care that he has for his kids, who in another lifetime were everything to him.

    (As for O.B., the parallels between his two selves are almost too seamless, with A.D. wasting no time in reclaiming the role as the group’s invaluable tech genius. Production designer Kasra Farahani and his team also had some fun reimagining O.B.’s workshop at the TVA as A.D.’s workspace in Pasadena, as the two locations echo each other across time and space.)

    The fact that so much of these characters’ lives stays intact in the jump between realities to their new existences at the TVA complicates what we’ve thought to this point about how everything works at the TVA. Now that Loki has seen each of his companion’s histories, we have to wonder what he’ll do with this newfound information. And more importantly, how will someone like Mobius react if and when he discovers the truth about the life he’s been actively refusing to investigate?

    What Makes a Loki Tick?

    The driving question in Season 1 was “what makes a Loki tick?” As Mobius recruited the God of Mischief to hunt down another Loki variant, this question came up again and again, as Loki and Sylvie redefined what they were believed to be capable of. “Science/Fiction” takes some much-needed time to reevaluate where both Lokis stand in this regard, and how the latest multiversal events have impacted the people they’ve become.

    In Broxton, Sylvie shows a more compassionate side of her character that’s been missing all season, as Sophia Di Martino finally gets the chance to do more than just yell about the need to destroy the TVA or He Who Remains. And for once, Loki is placed in a position where someone else helps him recognize the emotions that are blinding him to the reality of the situation, as Sylvie pushes him to uncover his true motives for bringing everyone back to the TVA. “I want my friends back,” Loki admits. “I don’t want to be alone.”

    “See, we’re both selfish,” Sylvie replies. “I know this is hard, but your friends are back where they belong.”

    “But without them, where do I belong?” Loki asks.

    “We’re all writing our own stories now,” Sylvie says. “Go write yours.”

    While Loki’s takeaway—to just give up on the mission—ultimately proves to be the wrong one, the truth of why he’s doing all of this is enlightening nonetheless. The Asgardian’s desire to be loved and accepted was one of the key developments for his character in Season 1. His continued evolution into a full-fledged hero this season has been a bit rushed, but here we see that some of his selfish nature—a character trait that has existed in him since he first appeared in Thor—is still intact, even if it’s ultimately in service of the worthy cause of defending the multiverse. Loki’s overall development seems more well-rounded as we see shadows of his former self shine through while he learns to navigate the complexities of his emotions and relationships.

    With this bar conversation and a subsequent scene that depicts Sylvie’s routine of visiting the local record store in Broxton, Loki belatedly dedicates some space to further exploring how and why Sylvie has relinquished any duty to the multiverse in favor of finding peace in the freedom of choice that she’s never had. As Sylvie’s friend Lyle gets spaghettified while Sylvie vibes to the Velvet Underground, we witness the simple life she’s always dreamed of get torn apart before her eyes. It’s a heartbreaking moment reminiscent of the dusty aftermath of the snap in Avengers: Infinity War, and it serves as a reminder of how tragic a figure Sylvie has always been.

    The God of Stories

    Loki has been known by many names. The God of Mischief. The Trickster of Asgard. The Prince of Lies. In the comics, he also takes on a unique title that stands out from the rest of them: the God of Stories.

    This transformation comes within the pages of Loki: Agent of Asgard, a series that started in 2014 and was written by Al Ewing and illustrated by Lee Garbett. In Agent of Asgard, Loki gains the very meta ability to use his magic to manipulate narratives, time, and the fabric of reality. In a very fourth-wall-breaking sort of way, he can then wield the power of stories themselves, rewriting them however he chooses.

    Loki: Agent of Asgard no. 13
    Screenshot via Marvel Comics

    These ideas emerge in a major way in “Science/Fiction,” with Loki even vowing to “rewrite the story” as he rewinds the season’s narrative back to before the TVA’s destruction. In the final moments of the episode, just as Loki discovers this new, all-powerful ability, Sylvie’s voice can be heard amid Loki’s disintegrating surroundings. “Do you think that what makes a Loki a Loki is the fact that we’re destined to lose?” she asks.

    It’s a question that Sylvie raised in Season 1, and an idea that was repeated by other Loki variants whom the God of Mischief encountered in the Void. Loki has been determined to change that narrative, just as Sylvie has sacrificed just about everything in a quest for free will. And now Loki actually has the ability to control and manipulate time like never before, paving the way for him to become the God of Stories.

    There are still plenty of unanswered questions leading into next week’s season finale, including the fates of Miss Minutes, Ravonna Renslayer, Victor Timely, and the rest of He Who Remains’s variants. Now that Loki has gained potentially limitless power, the series will soon test just how much the reformed villain has changed.

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    Daniel Chin

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  • Five Thoughts About the Beatles’ Last Song, “Now and Then”

    Five Thoughts About the Beatles’ Last Song, “Now and Then”

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    The last album the Beatles recorded ended with “The End.” (Unless you count “Her Majesty.”) But the actual end of the band’s official output—at least according to the marketing materials—came on Thursday, when the corporate entity called the Beatles released “Now and Then.” The song, which was written by John Lennon in the late 1970s and demoed on a handheld cassette recorder perched on his piano, was considered for the full-band treatment during the 1995 Beatles Anthology project, when the surviving “Threetles” (Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr) worked with producer Jeff Lynne of Electric Light Orchestra and Traveling Wilburys fame to finish a few of Lennon’s songs.

    Included on the tapes Lennon’s widow, Yoko Ono, had given McCartney were demos of four tracks: “Free As a Bird,” “Real Love,” “Grow Old With Me,” and “Now and Then.” Lennon’s former bandmates recorded the first two but passed on recording “Grow Old With Me,” which had already been released on the posthumous Milk and Honey in 1984. (Starr and McCartney would eventually cover it on Starr’s 2019 solo album, What’s My Name.) After some experimentation, they also rejected “Now and Then,” largely at the behest of Harrison, who thought the quality of Lennon’s demo was insufficient for a full-fledged recording.

    Harrison passed in 2001, but McCartney never dropped the idea of returning to the song, which seems to hold some special significance for him: According to Carl Perkins, Lennon’s last words to McCartney were “Think about me every now and then, old friend,” which may have made the demo smack of a message from the beyond. Recent technological advances made that message much clearer: Peter Jackson’s machine audio learning algorithm (MAL, named for Beatles roadie and confidant Mal Evans), which was developed for the 2021 documentary The Beatles: Get Back, isolated Lennon’s vocal from its piano accompaniment and removed the hum and background sounds that marred the original recording. The Beatles version of the song, which was coproduced by McCartney and Beatles producer George Martin’s son Giles, incorporates Lennon’s singing, Harrison’s 1995 guitar work, harmonies sampled from Beatles songs of the ’60s, new recordings by McCartney and Starr, and additional orchestration.

    Speaking of orchestration, “Now and Then” is the centerpiece of a three-part, three-day rollout: on Wednesday, a short film about the making of the track; on Thursday, the song itself; and on Friday, Jackson’s music video. It’s also an enticement to purchase some merch: For the full-circle feels, the song is being sold as a double-A-side single alongside a MAL-demixed, stereo version of the Beatles’ mono first single, “Love Me Do”—a figurative “Hello, Goodbye.” It will also appear on newly expanded, remixed, and demixed releases of the band’s vintage greatest-hits compilations, known as the Red and Blue albums.

    “Now and Then” almost certainly won’t remain in your rotation as long as the rest of the cuts on those classic comps, but at minimum, it’s a fascinating artifact. And if it’s the official farewell from a group whose legacy will long outlive any of its members, it merits a close listen. At slightly more than four minutes long, the track is a trifle compared to the nearly eight-hour Get Back, but after asking five questions sparked by that chronicle of the Beatles’ last released album, I’m back to share five thoughts prompted by the band’s last released song. Now, then: Let’s examine “Now and Then.”

    Yes, this is all slightly disconcerting.

    As with “Free As a Bird” and “Real Love,” but even more so, the release of a new “Beatles” song without the knowledge, approval, and active participation of all four Beatles may strike some fans as morbid, presumptuous, or creatively questionable. Before he was murdered in December 1980, Lennon sometimes sounded receptive (or was said to have sounded receptive) to the idea of all four Beatles working together again. At other times, not so much. I tend to think that had he lived longer, there would have been some sort of Beatles reunion: the repair (for the most part) of his and McCartney’s relationship after the acrimony of the Beatles’ breakup, the fact that up to three of the former bandmates often played on one another’s songs, and the Anthology project (and the examples of so many other ’60s and ’70s groups who eventually got the band back together) all suggest that the four Fabs would have been seen at some point on stage or in studio. But would Lennon have wanted a reunion to take this form, with this demo of this song? Not even those who were closest to him can know with absolute certainty.

    Harrison’s absence adds an additional layer of uncertainty, given that he was the one who scuttled the first attempt to finish “Now and Then.” In 1997, McCartney told Q Magazine, “George didn’t like it. The Beatles being a democracy, we didn’t do it.” Fifteen years later, long after Harrison’s death, McCartney said, “George went off it,” recounting how Harrison had called it “fuckin’ rubbish.” But those quotes are unclear: rubbish because the demo was so rough, or rubbish because he simply disliked the song?

    Possibly both. In 2021, Mark Cunningham, the technical musical consultant to Beatles press officer Derek Taylor, told The Daily Beast what Harrison had told him when Cunningham had asked why the Threetles didn’t record the third song. “He was very critical,” Cunningham said. “He was a real downer about it and said, ‘I wasn’t really interested.’ He said, ‘Apart from the quality, which was worse than the other two, I didn’t think it was much of a song.’”

    The Beatles are still a democracy, but Harrison no longer has his own vote. His family does, and his wife and son say his objections were limited to the demo’s vocal quality. In a recent press release about the new song, Harrison’s widow, Olivia, said, “George felt the technical issues with the demo were insurmountable and concluded that it was not possible to finish the track to a high enough standard. If he were here today, Dhani and I know he would have wholeheartedly joined Paul and Ringo in completing the recording of ‘Now and Then.’” That’s certainly plausible—it was Harrison who first spoke to Ono about the surviving Beatles tinkering with John’s songs, and he helped out with “Free As a Bird” and “Real Love.” But even if Harrison would have signed off on the MAL-enhanced vocal, the new “Now and Then” lacks whatever adornments he might have added to the basic rhythm track he laid down in ’95.

    Asked about the prospect of a Beatles reunion in 1974, Harrison said, “If we do it again, it will probably be because we’ll be broke and need the money.” That’s clearly not what’s happening here: This song seems to have flowed from the best of intentions of McCartney and Starr, with green lights and love from the families and estates of Lennon and Harrison. Still, I’d understand if any fans shared the late George Martin’s misgivings about long-after-the-fact recordings. When Martin was asked in 2013 about why he didn’t produce “Free As a Bird” and “Real Love,” he said, “I kind of told them I wasn’t too happy with putting them together with the dead John. I’ve got nothing wrong with dead John, but the idea of having dead John with live Paul and Ringo and George to form a group, it didn’t appeal to me too much.”

    Decades earlier, in 1976, Martin told Rolling Stone, “What happened was great at its time, but whenever you try to recapture something that existed before, you’re walking on dangerous ground, like when you go back to a place that you loved as a child and you find it’s been rebuilt. … The Beatles existed years ago; they don’t exist today. And if the four men came back together, it wouldn’t be the Beatles.”

    That’s no less true now that two of the men are gone and the others are in their 80s. I don’t object to the exercise so much as the branding: This obviously isn’t a Beatles song in the same sense as the songs from the ’60s, or even “Free As a Bird” and “Real Love.” Which doesn’t mean it’s not enjoyable. But …

    How you feel about the music depends in part on whether you’ve heard it before.

    If you haven’t heard Lennon’s demo, don’t listen to it before you take in the new “Now and Then.” I’ve heard the former untold times over many years, and my familiarity with it can’t help but color my perception of the “Beatles” track.

    Lennon’s demo is spare, imperfect, and fittingly ghostly. The new release is heavily produced (after the fairly faithful, unvarnished first minute), and so sonically compressed in its streaming incarnation that the muddy mix obscures some of the depth and detail in the bass and strings. In some respects, the more polished approach is preferable. In others, the haunting, ethereal, stripped-down demo sounds more appropriate for a plaintive love song sung by a man who’s been dead for longer than he was alive. It’s a little like the difference between the Let It Be version of “The Long and Winding Road” and the Let It Be … Naked version without the wall of sound. Both have adherents, but the latter’s intimacy is more my speed. (In the case of “Now and Then,” though, McCartney and the younger Martin added the overdubs, whereas Macca and the older Martin were the ones excoriating Phil Spector’s alterations to “The Long and Winding Road.”)

    However, my primary source of dissatisfaction (which has lessened a little as I’ve listened more) stems not from the sound of the new “Now and Then,” but from its structure. Earlier, I referred to the Threetles “completing” or “finishing” Lennon’s musical sketches, but this time, McCartney collaborates with his former muse not just by building on Lennon’s work, but by undoing it. The Lennon demo is almost a minute longer than the Beatles release, largely because the former includes two pre-chorus bridges that the latter removes (aside from a subtle, hard-to-hear allusion in McCartney’s piano chords during the new solo).

    I understand why McCartney cut these “I don’t want to lose you / Abuse you or confuse you” sections. For one thing, Lennon’s lyrics trail off into placeholder scatting. It was one thing for McCartney and Harrison to replace Lennon’s incomplete pre-chorus vocals on “Free As a Bird” in 1995. It would have been another for McCartney to do the same on “Now and Then” in 2023, with his husky, warbly, 81-year-old voice. Moreover, a reference to abuse might have landed differently now, what with the wider awareness of Lennon’s history with women.

    Setting aside the unanswerable question of whether Lennon would have wanted the song released without a section he may have considered essential, I can’t help but be a bit let down by the bridge’s omission. Without those surprising, distinctly Lennon-esque digressions, the song’s structure is simpler and more repetitive: verse, chorus, verse, chorus, solo, verse. Plus, its sentiment is less poignant without some of the singer’s self-doubt. Even if there were no respectful, seamless way to preserve those fragments, I miss them sorely, having grown accustomed to them during my many spins of the demo. It’s enough to make me do a “distracted boyfriend” glance at the fan edits and covers that keep the pre-choruses in.

    MAL is magic.

    Whatever one might think about the “Beatles” arrangement of “Now and Then,” the vocal revealed by Jackson’s proprietary software is a minor miracle. In contrast to the reedy original rendition, Lennon’s voice sounds strong and clear yet in essence the same, dispelling any misplaced panic conjured by mentions of “AI.” It isn’t studio caliber, but it’s close enough that “Now and Then” doesn’t suffer from the Anthology tracks’ somewhat distracting dissonance in vocal quality and unscrubbable snippets of piano. “There it was, John’s voice, crystal clear,” McCartney said of hearing the cleaned-up performance. “It’s quite emotional.” Starr agreed: “It was the closest we’ll ever come to having him back in the room, so it was very emotional for all of us. It was like John was there, you know. It’s far out.”

    It is far out! Even after the incredible demonstrations of this tech’s potential in Get Back, I’m as thrilled and delighted by each new implementation as a baby is by peekaboo. MAL is magical in an Arthur C. Clarke kind of way. I’d imagine that we’ll hear much more of its output in the coming years, with the Beatles and beyond; training this tool on more mono mixes and crackly recordings should give Apple Corps, Capitol, and Universal an excuse to sell us portions of the Beatles’ back catalog yet again. (Sign me up for MAL-aided remixes of “Free As a Bird” and “Real Love,” and perhaps a less screamy Live at the Hollywood Bowl.)

    Jackson hasn’t directed a narrative feature film since 2014’s The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies, but since then he’s been bringing the past to vibrant life—both visually, via the colorized, retimed footage in World War I documentary They Shall Not Grow Old, and audibly, through the gifts he’s given fellow Beatles fans. His greatest triumphs as a filmmaker have come from using technology to render real and fictional characters and worlds in unprecedentedly lifelike ways, making them feel fresh, vital, and visceral. I’m not saying he shouldn’t make more movies about Tintin, but selfishly, I hope he keeps catering to my personal interests. Thanks for fixing Get Back and “Now and Then.” Now do Magical Mystery Tour.

    This is a better Beatles tribute than it is a song.

    Considering that “Now and Then” is an amalgamation of music made over four different decades with varying levels of fidelity, constrained by both the unreachability of John and George and the need not to tamper too much with their past contributions, it’s a wonder that it sounds as cohesive as it does. But the song’s greatest strength isn’t its sound—it’s the way its production echoes and amplifies the motif of the melding of past and present.

    The Anthology recordings are as old now as some of the Beatles’ songs were when the Threetles convened in the mid-’90s, and time has taken its toll on both the band’s roster and its surviving members’ skills. Paul’s voice is much diminished these days, but on “Now and Then,” that’s an asset: Like the footage old Paul plays of young John as they do live “duets” on “I’ve Got a Feeling” in concert, the blending of the 30-something Lennon and the 80-something McCartney on this track is a guaranteed tearjerker. The first words McCartney sings alongside Lennon are “love you,” and in the chorus’s confession and plea, “Now and then / I miss you,” the two seem to be talking to each other while we listen and gently weep. Jackson’s irreverent, touching, time-hopping music video doubles down on these themes.

    “Now and Then” is Lennon’s song, but this recording is unmistakably a Paul project. Of course, the Beatles were often a Paul project in their later years, and it wasn’t uncommon for the bandmates to write and record individually and then stitch their creations together. This isn’t the first Beatles song recorded without Lennon at the sessions, or the first on which McCartney subbed in for Harrison on the solo. McCartney may be “a bit overpowering at times,” as Harrison once said, but here he recedes into the swirl of sound enough for John to stay center stage.

    Between McCartney’s George-inspired (but not George-soundalike) slide solo and a piano that could’ve been ported from one of Paul’s 21st-century solo tracks—I hear shades of the Harrison-inspiredFriends to Go”—“Now and Then” slightly updates the band’s sound amid its many conscious invocations of the Beatles’ musical hallmarks. Then again, the Beatles’ sound was always evolving, and if they were all alive and aligned on a track today, they wouldn’t sound the same as they used to. “Now and Then” bears the sonic stamps of more recent efforts, just as “Free As a Bird” and “Real Love” reflected Harrison’s, McCartney’s, and Starr’s separate work with Lynne.

    “Now and Then” isn’t an authentic song by the Beatles in the same way that Hackney Diamonds is an authentic album by the Rolling Stones—the British Invasion is back!—but it’s a convincing spiritual successor. “It’s not some sort of cynical marketing exercise to try and push catalog sales,” Giles told Variety, adding, “I think [Paul] just misses John and he wants to work on a song with him. It’s just as simple as that.” If this song brings some creative closure to McCartney, a tireless and responsible steward of the band’s IP, I won’t begrudge him that. All in all, I’m moderately happy to have this recording, although musically, it’s my least favorite of the post-Lennon Beatles songs, and I doubt it will displace the demo in my affections. There was no way for “Now and Then” to live up to the hype of a new Beatles song or, for that matter, to match the standard set by the Beatles’ library, but it’s a sweet, nostalgic, and not excessively schmaltzy or self-referential postscript.

    The Beatles’ body of work didn’t need another coda, but this one works. “Good one,” Ringo mumbles at the end. Not great one, but we’ll take it.

    The Beatles always return to us.

    The long-awaited arrival of “Now and Then” is bittersweet because, barring a creative reversal or the discovery of a new stash of songs, it’s the end of the end, the last new track that will ever be released by the Beatles (air quotes or asterisk implied). But the band as a cultural touchstone and source of inspiration is almost immortal. The rereleases, documentaries, and books will keep coming, and so may periodic deliveries from the vault. (With “Now and Then” unveiled, Beatleologists will focus their willpower on unearthing McCartney’s “Carnival of Light.”)

    This may be the band’s final single, but in the end, the enjoyment we take is greater than the music they make. As Lennon—and only Lennon—sang in his “Grow Old With Me” demo: “World without end / World without end.”

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    Ben Lindbergh

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  • “A Clear Message”: Sam Bankman-Fried Is Found Guilty on All Seven Counts

    “A Clear Message”: Sam Bankman-Fried Is Found Guilty on All Seven Counts

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    About a quarter past 4 p.m. on Thursday, roughly an hour after jurors in United States v. Samuel Bankman-Fried had been sent off to deliberate the seven counts of fraud and conspiracy charged to cryptocurrency faux-impresario Sam Bankman-Fried, the court read aloud a note from the jury. “We want cars,” it said.

    Earlier that day, Judge Lewis Kaplan had offered jurors free dinner and rides home—care of the American taxpayer, he pointed out—if they wanted to stay at the courthouse as late as 8 p.m. to hash out a verdict. The note meant that they at least wanted to try.

    Over the next few hours, reporters and onlookers loitered around the courthouse, doing crosswords and eating pizza and drawing one another in the manner of sketch artists, waiting to see if the monthlong trial would reach a conclusion before the clock struck 8. I wasn’t sure it would, considering it had taken Kaplan several hours to simply instruct the jury about the nuances of all the different charges against Bankman-Fried. There were two counts of wire fraud, and five counts of conspiracy that ranged from commodities fraud to laundering money. There were three different sets of victims to consider: customers of FTX (the online crypto exchange that Bankman-Fried founded and then used as a gigantic piggy bank), lenders to Alameda Research (the prop trading firm, also owned by Bankman-Fried, whose balance sheets and account settings were constantly being favorably fiddled with), and outside investors.

    And there were reams of evidence that had been introduced over the course of the trial that showed how Bankman-Fried solicited, accessed, misrepresented, and spent some $10 billion of other people’s money. Spreadsheets! Google Docs! Signal messages! Testimony from three different once-trusted colleagues and friends who’d already pleaded guilty and who spoke under cooperation agreements with the government! Even if the jurors were to find themselves in agreement right from the start of deliberations, it seemed as though getting the verdict organized might still be a time-consuming logistical/bureaucratic lift.

    By a little bit after 7:30, we had seen juror notes requesting highlighters and Post-Its and transcripts of investor witness testimony. We had run out of blank crossword squares; we were strategizing Monday arrival times in the increasingly likely event that deliberations lasted into the next scheduled court session.

    And then, the judge’s deputy clerk indicated that we had one more note from the jury. By the top of the hour, Bankman-Fried was officially found guilty of all seven counts against him.


    Between being dismissed and returning with a verdict, the jury only deliberated for a little more than four hours, a span of time that included eating dinner. For a month, they’d been prohibited from discussing the case, even among themselves. But once they were able to, they seemed to have all come to the same conclusion. Their brisk decisiveness was fitting for the trial of a man whose rise and fall always felt like a crime speedrun. In the defense team’s closing arguments on Wednesday—in an attempt to argue that his busy client didn’t realize the extent of his worsening situation until it was too late—attorney Mark Cohen quoted Ernest Hemingway’s line from The Sun Also Rises about how a character went bankrupt: “Gradually, then suddenly.” But there was never anything particularly gradual about the trajectory of Bankman-Fried and FTX.

    Fewer than three and a half years went by between when Bankman-Fried cofounded FTX in April 2019 and when the whole operation collapsed into where’d-the-money-go bankruptcy last November. During that span, the company reached valuations of $32 billion and $worthless. Bankman-Fried was compared to both tycoon J.P. Morgan and Ponzi schemer Bernie Madoff. Splashy FTX ads featuring Tom Brady and Larry David in 2022 gave way to civil class action lawsuits against the company’s celebrity endorsers later that year. Bankman-Fried went from flying in private planes between the Bahamas, Hong Kong, and Teterboro, New Jersey, to violating the terms of his housebound arrest and being remanded to jail. He spoke before Congress about the importance of keeping customer assets safe and transparent; then he clammed up on the witness stand at his criminal trial when asked why he didn’t follow those practices in his own business. He talked a big game about the importance of philanthropy and political contributions to the planet, but the real gag was the way he could embezzle billions in order to improve his place in the world.

    On November 2, 2022, the trade publication CoinDesk published a story raising concerns about a hectic Alameda Research balance sheet it had acquired—a story that highlighted troubling conflicts of interest and financial entanglements between Bankman-Fried’s two businesses and set into motion the collapse and bankruptcy of FTX. Now, a year to the day later, the jury was determining the new reality of Bankman-Fried himself.

    As the forewoman prepared to recite the verdict, Bankman-Fried’s parents clutched each other in the second row of seats. A courtroom artist one row in front of them turned around and sized them up for a portrait. In the back of the room, a member of the public in a HUNTER BIDEN 2024 tee pulled a sherbet-colored I AM KENOUGH sweatshirt over his head and leaned eagerly in.

    Bankman-Fried himself wore a gray suit and purple tie. He stood facing the nine women and three men on the jury, listening as they declared him guilty on all seven counts. His father dropped his head into his hands as low as it would go. His mother gazed up at the ceiling. The jurors mostly kept their eyes fixed on the judge, who thanked them for serving. “You learned a whole new industry,” Kaplan said. He set a sentencing date for late March. (Bankman-Fried, who may also face additional charges next spring, will likely earn decades in prison.)

    In a recent Lithub interview, Bankman-Fried’s biographer, Michael Lewis, recalled flying down to the Bahamas last November to see his subject. Bankman-Fried had just signed the FTX bankruptcy documents and all his financial sandcastles had collapsed. “The first thing he says,” Lewis said, “is: ‘You know what’s weird to think about? Saturday. On Saturday, everything was normal.’”

    Bankman-Fried was a guy who long felt entitled to backdate his documents; he was arrogant enough to believe he had the power to manipulate time. But this Thursday, there was no going back to any Saturdays, no wriggling out of a big problem with a small flourish of a pen. Instead, as the marshals walked his shaky and pale form out of the courtroom, Bankman-Fried turned around, gave his parents a small head nod, and was gradually, suddenly gone.


    Outside the courthouse, writers and news crews and livestreamers and paparazzi converged at a barricade near an exit, eager for anyone to walk out that door. Standing there, I remembered how three weeks ago, I had watched Caroline Ellison and her lawyers skulk through that same gauntlet following her testimony. (The three of them regrettably got into the wrong black SUV at first and had to get out and cross the street; we’ve all been there.) I remembered how, on one of my first mornings lining up there to get a seat at the trial, a passerby with a boombox had walked by in the wee hours and yelled out, astutely: “Which rich white person did something now?” And back in the present, I overheard a CNBC correspondent who was working on a live shot exclaim that “they broke into Shark Tank” with the SBF verdict news, and “that’s when you know it’s big!” When a defense attorney appeared at one point, someone in the crowd hollered at him, about Bankman-Fried: “WHY DID HE TESTIFY?!”

    Eventually, a long line of government prosecutors and law enforcement officers walked out before us with straight-set faces and gathered behind U.S. Attorney Damian Williams as he delivered a statement. United States v. Samuel Bankman-Fried, Williams said, should be “a warning to every fraudster who thinks they’re untouchable, that their crimes are too complex for us to catch, that they are too powerful to prosecute, or that they are clever enough to talk their way out of it if caught. Those folks should think again, and cut it out.” (Somehow, he didn’t punctuate that last line with finger-scissors.)

    Later in the evening, Attorney General Merrick Garland—for whom Williams once clerked—weighed in with a similar sentiment of his own. “This case should send a clear message to anyone who tries to hide their crimes behind a shiny new thing they claim no one else is smart enough to understand,” Garland wrote. What’s also clear is that this won’t be the last shiny new thing to get keyed up a bit by the government. Alex Mashinsky, the founder of the crypto company Celsius, will face trial next fall for fraud. And the New York attorney general recently sued several crypto businesses, also for fraud.

    Williams, who was appointed to lead the Southern District of New York as U.S. attorney two years ago, added that the “lightning speed” movement of Bankman-Fried’s case from arrest to conviction—a marked contrast to the lugubrious way that high-profile cases tend to trudge through the system—“was not a coincidence; that was a choice.” The phrase reminded me of something that prosecutor Danielle Sassoon had argued earlier on Thursday during her final rebuttal summation. Pointing out that Bankman-Fried had claimed that his single biggest mistake over the years was that he didn’t hire a risk officer, Sassoon scoffed. “That’s not a defense. That was a strategy,” she said. “If you’re deleting messages and backdating documents and embezzling customer money, of course you’re not going to hire a risk officer.”

    Throughout the trial, Bankman-Fried and his lawyers contended there was never any strategy, framing the missing billions—and the bespoke back-office mechanisms that enabled them—as nothing but coincidence. “I made a number of big mistakes and small mistakes,” said Bankman-Fried when he took the stand, a truly wan simulacrum of a remorseful admission. Prosecutor Nicolas Roos framed it another, more precise way in the government’s closing arguments: “He lied about big things, and he lied about little things.” And in the end, when the jurors had to decide whether to believe Bankman-Fried’s stories over their own lyin’ eyes, it was a quick and unanimous choice.

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    Katie Baker

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  • Overwatch 2’s new tank hero leaks ahead of BlizzCon 2023 reveal

    Overwatch 2’s new tank hero leaks ahead of BlizzCon 2023 reveal

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    A new hero is coming to Overwatch 2 next month. Mauga, the game’s next tank-class hero, will join the Overwatch roster with season 8 and will be the game’s 39th playable character, according to a post on the Nintendo Switch eShop news channel.

    Blizzard plans to officially reveal the next Overwatch 2 hero at BlizzCon 2023, which starts Friday, but a first look at Mauga and his abilities have leaked ahead of that.

    Overwatch 2 players can get their hands on Mauga earlier than December, however — this weekend, in fact, thanks to a free trial weekend for Blizzard’s game. Mauga will be playable from Friday, Nov. 3 through Sunday, Nov. 5 as part of a sneak peek at season 8 of Overwatch 2.

    Image: Blizzard Entertainment

    Blizzard describes Mauga as a “powerful brawling Tank Hero who will tear through the competition with his incendiary and volatile chainguns.” Maugau’s kit is designed “to bash through the front lines and brawl his opponents in close-quarter combat, by wielding two powerful chainguns that can either be fire individually or in unison,” Blizzard says.

    One of Mauga’s chainguns is nicknamed “Gunny” and can burn his opponents with incendiary charges when they take enough damage. The other gun is known as “Cha-Cha,” which can deal critical hits. Mauga’s Berserker passive ability, Blizzard says, will grant him temporary health whenever he deals critical damage.

    Mauga’s front line-breaking power is called Overrun, “a charging ability that cannot be stopped by any crowd control abilities,” Blizzard says, meaning counters like Ana’s Sleep Dart or Sigma’s Accretion. Overrun “stomps into opponents, dealing a powerful knockback.” Another ability, Cardiac Overdrive, creates an aura that reduces incoming damage, “allowing allies to heal themselves while dealing damage.”

    Mauga’s ultimate ability, Cage Fight, “traps nearby opponents in a cylindrical fighting ring” with a barrier that “blocks enemy incoming damage or healing from the outside.”

    Blizzard says Mauga will be officially released on Dec. 5, when season 8 of Overwatch 2 goes live.

    Overwatch 2’s 39th playable hero shouldn’t be a surprise to players who have been paying close attention to the game for the past few years. Mauga made a guest appearance in the 2019 Overwatch comic What You Left Behind, which revealed the tank-class character as a former Talon ally of Baptiste. Mauga hails from Samoa, a location that Blizzard recently mined for a new Control map for Overwatch 2. That map offered hints that Mauga would soon appear in the game, in the form of one of his colorful shirts hanging in a room.

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    Michael McWhertor

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  • It’s still wild that Nintendo signed off on Super Mario RPG

    It’s still wild that Nintendo signed off on Super Mario RPG

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    Nearly three decades after it was first released on Super Nintendo — and despite a handsome remake for Switch, with completely redone visuals and rerecorded music — there’s still something strangely, but not unpleasantly, off about Super Mario RPG.

    Mario looks all squat and cross-eyed; in fact, the whole Mushroom Kingdom and all its denizens have a sort of squashed, funhouse-mirror look, as if folding them into an isometric perspective has flattened them all out. Early in the game, Bowser’s castle gets run through by a giant, skyscraper-sized talking sword; when did you ever see a sword in a Mario game? Not long after, a Toad makes a joke about forgetting his bazooka at home. His what? Mario’s house is a wobbly, clapboard shack. Mario has a house. It’s all kinds of wrong.

    This adventure, first released in 1996 as Super Mario RPG: Legend of the Seven Stars, was a collaboration between Nintendo and Square (now Square Enix) when both were in their mid-’90s pomp. Nintendo was winding down the SNES after an unbeatable run of in-house classics, from Super Mario World to Yoshi’s Island, while Square was months away from unleashing Final Fantasy 7 on the world. It was a meeting of near equals, and while the characters were Nintendo’s, the turf — turn-based role-playing games — was very much Square’s. The developer had the confidence to make its own tastes and personality felt in Mario RPG, in much the same way it later would with the Disney-crossover Kingdom Hearts games, and in a way few external developers working with Mario ever would again (with the recent exception of Ubisoft’s zany-but-cunning Mario + Rabbids games).

    Image: Nintendo

    So Mario RPG features many elements that feel like foreign bodies, even within the hallucinatory, anything-goes world of the Mushroom Kingdom. Square was allowed to create its own characters for the game — including Mallow, Mario’s first companion on his quest, who claims to be a frog but looks like a cross between a cloud and a cauliflower with stripy pants and a purple quiff. There’s a lovely score by the legendary Yoko Shimomura (Kingdom Hearts, Street Fighter 2) that has a lush, nostalgic quality that’s subtly but profoundly different from original Mario composer Koji Kondo’s folksy melodic playfulness.

    It all adds up to a curio: a game that has long felt like it belongs in a parallel dimension. Released just months before the Nintendo 64’s debut, original SNES copies of Super Mario RPG command high prices on the used market, and it has had only basic and sparing reissues from Nintendo since (it didn’t come to Europe at all until the Wii Virtual Console version in 2008). But it was also influential, laying the foundations for Nintendo’s later (and more tonally controlled) Mario RPG series, Paper Mario and Mario & Luigi. It has the same streamlined RPG systems as those games, the rhythmic inputs that add immediacy to the turn-based combat, and a similar, mildly meta sense of humor.

    Mario is squished flat by a Thwomp on some stairs in Super Mario RPG

    Image: Nintendo

    For whatever reason — perhaps a hunger for any and all Mario content in the wake of the Super Mario Bros. Movie phenomenon, perhaps a newfound willingness to take risks with its mascot — Nintendo is now finally ready to give Super Mario RPG its due and integrate it properly with the Mario catalog, via this full Switch remake. It’s strange to encounter this game (for the first time, in my case) in 2023 on Switch, and it’s great that Nintendo, Square Enix, and whoever developed the remake (which remains unclear, but I’ve asked Nintendo for clarification) have so carefully kept its wayward spirit alive.

    The full 3D graphical overhaul retains the original’s bizarre rendered look, wisely refusing to homogenize or standardize the designs, and retaining its off-kilter character even as it smooths out the animations. Shimomura has completely reorchestrated her score, but you can switch to the chiptune originals, if you like. There are some modern creature comforts, like a frequent autosave, but most of Mario RPG’s archaic, 27-year-old design quirks remain intact. That said, on early evidence, Square’s expert simplification of traditional RPG mechanics seems bulletproof — and the game plays very swiftly, considering its age.

    As smart as the new version is, playing Super Mario RPG feels like a portal to another time — or another timeline, perhaps. A timeline where Mario lives in a shack. I’m still not over it.

    Super Mario RPG will be released on Nov. 17.

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    Oli Welsh

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  • Sam Bankman-Fried Often Didn’t Recall in His Testimony. But the Prosecution Did.

    Sam Bankman-Fried Often Didn’t Recall in His Testimony. But the Prosecution Did.

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    Of all the deliciously tedious courtroom conversations that have happened between federal prosecutors and failed crypto founder Sam Bankman-Fried—who is standing trial on seven counts of fraud, conspiracy, and money laundering related to the loss of $8 billion of customer funds at his crypto exchange, FTX—one on Tuesday really had it all. Pedantic dissembling! Experienced persistence! The Bahamas! FPOTUS Bill Clinton! It began when assistant U.S. attorney Danielle Sassoon asked Bankman-Fried what ought to have been a straightforward question on cross-examination, and things quickly snowballed into the absurd:

    Sassoon: In April 2022, you invited the Bahamian prime minister to a private dinner hosted by FTX, right?
    Bankman-Fried: When was that? Sorry?
    Sassoon: Around April of 2022.
    Bankman-Fried: It’s possible. I don’t remember what that’s referring to.
    Sassoon: Well, do you recall inviting him to a private dinner in 2022 with former president Bill Clinton and former U.K. prime minister Tony Blair?
    Bankman-Fried: No, but it doesn’t surprise me.
    Sassoon: Did you in fact attend a dinner with the Bahamian prime minister, Bill Clinton, and Tony Blair?
    Bankman-Fried: During the conference, the FTX conference, there was a—something like a dinner with them, yeah.
    Sassoon: When you say “something like a dinner,” was it a dinner?
    Bankman-Fried: It may—I don’t remember whether there was food. It may have been.
    Sassoon: And you were there, right?
    Bankman-Fried: Yup.

    Perhaps out of deference for his may-have-been-dinner-mate Clinton, Bankman-Fried thankfully avoided bickering over the meaning of the word “is.” Still, he argued about plenty of other terms during his three-ish days on the stand. For example, less than a minute into Sassoon’s cross, which began Monday afternoon, Bankman-Fried said the phrase: “Depends on how you define ‘trading.’” The next day, he haggled with Sassoon over the meaning of “transact with.”

    At one point, after being asked whether he remembered making various positive statements about the company he founded, SBF responded, “No, but I may have,” to five consecutive questions. More than once, he called something “effectively correct” instead of just saying yes. And he responded, “I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” to Sassoon’s inquiries often enough that Judge Lewis Kaplan finally broke in.

    “The issue is not what she is referring to,” Kaplan admonished, as a few jury members smirked. “Please answer the question.” The question in question: “Generally, do you recall in substance making statements that FTX was a safe platform?” Bankman-Fried’s eventual answer: “I remember things around specific parts of the FTX platform that were related to that. I don’t remember a general statement to that effect. I am not sure there wasn’t one.” Got it!

    While Bankman-Fried continued in this manner, a filmmaker sitting next to me in the gallery murmured that the defendant ought to be lifting his face up more, that maybe he might appear more sympathetic if he found better light. When your defense revolves around keeping everything shrouded, however, it turns out there really isn’t much you can illuminate.


    United States v. Samuel Bankman-Fried commenced in early October and could conclude as soon as the end of this week. In its closing argument on Wednesday, the government stated that Bankman-Fried had said some version of “I can’t recall” over 140 times in his cross-examination and that, as attorney Nicolas Roos put it, “A pyramid of deceit was built by the defendant. That ultimately collapsed.”

    As I watched Bankman-Fried testify in his own defense over the past week, I thought a lot about chaotic spreadsheets. This was, at least in part, because throughout the trial, a lot of .xls files have been entered into evidence, each more tenuous than the last.

    There are spreadsheets with line items labeled “Oops this seems like not a thing we should be counting,” like one that Caroline Ellison, the former CEO of Bankman-Fried’s trading firm, Alameda Research, said she prepared. There are spreadsheets where the accounting is rounded not to the nearest decimal, but to the nearest billion. There are spreadsheets where the accounting is labeled with euphemisms, like “exchange borrows,” that mean illicitly wormholed FTX customer funds. There are spreadsheets showing Alameda’s $65 billion line of credit on FTX’s systems, an allowance that was $64,850,000,000 more than that of the next-highest customer. So many spreadsheets, all crowded with tabs, each one lousy with alarming valuations and bad news.

    But it wasn’t just the spreadsheets themselves that stood out to me. It was the fact that Bankman-Fried, up on the witness stand, often resembled a spreadsheet himself. Sometimes this was because of the way he processed, added up, divided, and extrapolated his thoughts and testimony in real time, stacking and rearranging his words in linked columns and rows. More often, it was because he said, again and again, that he didn’t know what Sassoon was referring to—a living embodiment of the dreaded #REF! error. Number-loving and load-bearing, Bankman-Fried was, for years, the guy whose base values provided the enterprise value to an entire apparatus of people and industry. Now, his cell contains only his own errors. When he went bust, everything linked to him went broke.

    “I trusted Sam,” testified Adam Yedidia, Bankman-Fried’s former MIT classmate who also worked at FTX, in early October. A few days later, Ellison, one of three trial witnesses who were a part of Bankman-Fried’s inner circle and have already pleaded guilty to fraud and conspiracy charges as part of a cooperation deal with the government, described Bankman-Fried as so ambitious that he felt he had a 5 percent chance of becoming president of the United States. Former FTX employee Nishad Singh—whose own bottom line went from “billionaire” to “#REF!” with the collapse of FTX just about a year ago—also recently testified for the prosecution. He was asked how he would describe his relationship with the defendant. “I have always been intimidated by Sam,” Singh began, to the overruled objection of the defense. Singh continued: “Sam is a formidable character, brilliant. So I had a lot of admiration and respect for him. Over time, I think a lot of that eroded, and I grew distrustful.”

    When Bankman-Fried took the stand, a will-he-or-won’t-he decision that had been hotly speculated about for weeks, the full arc of all of these descriptions of him was on display. For a time, courtroom observers did get a sense of the once-formidable iteration of Bankman-Fried. And then we also saw that same erosion, right before our eyes.


    While most white-collar defense attorneys typically don’t like to have their clients testify—the risks of perjuring oneself, irritating the sentencing judge, or getting pinned down on cross-examination all frequently outweigh the potential upside of, say, charming a juror—Bankman-Fried’s counsel almost certainly had little choice in the matter. Their client has a famously idiosyncratic risk tolerance. And the case was not going well for the defense otherwise: Their cross-examinations, particularly of Ellison, hadn’t drawn much blood, and the judge denied a number of their proposed expert witnesses. So why not swing big?

    In his direct examination, which began for the jury on Friday, Bankman-Fried got off to a steady start. When asked what his early vision was for FTX, SBF said that he had hoped to “move the [crypto] ecosystem forward,” but “it turned out basically the opposite of that.” (Shades of his “same, except exactly the opposite” quip to Ellison, which will live in ex-boyfriend infamy.) Bit by bit, he and his lawyers chipped away at some of the prior witnesses’ testimonies, trying to establish that mistakes were made and money was lost, but crimes were not intentionally committed.

    To that point in the trial, the government had repeatedly offered evidence that Bankman-Fried is well-attuned to the best PR angles for him and his companies. As he sat on the stand, we in the courtroom could see the defendant strive to be perceived as forthright—and maybe also a little bit funny? Speaking about FTX’s decision to enter a 19-year, $135 million arena-naming deal with the city of Miami and the NBA’s Miami Heat, for example, Bankman-Fried unexpectedly and amiably roasted both Dak Prescott’s Sleep Number bed ad campaign (too unmemorable, per his analysis) and the Kansas City Royals (“With no offense to the Royals,” he said, talking about having considered working with the team on a possible stadium-naming deal, “I didn’t want to be known as the Kansas City Royals of crypto exchanges, so we passed on that one”). Honestly, some of it was solid material. A number of jurors grinned, maybe even chuckled a little, and so did I. And that was before he had this exchange with his lawyer, Mark Cohen:

    Cohen: Can we turn to the second page, please? Pull up the paragraph entitled: “Things Sam Is Freaking Out About.” First entry is hedging. Do you recall discussing this with Ms. Ellison?
    Bankman-Fried: Yes.
    Cohen: Were you freaking out?
    Bankman-Fried: I don’t tend to show a lot of freak-out-ness, but relative to my standard, yes.

    Unlike the jurors, though, I was getting a kick out of this mainly because I had a good idea of what would be coming down the pike. Last Thursday, due to a dispute between lawyers about the admissibility of certain topics of inquiry, the jury was sent home early so that Bankman-Fried could offer limited testimony in a special “hearing” in front of Judge Kaplan (and the rest of the gallery). The direct questioning in that period had gone smoothly, much like it did in front of the jury—Sam’s father even gave him a big thumbs-up during a courtroom break.

    But during a truncated cross-examination by Sassoon that afternoon, Bankman-Fried wilted. Simple questions like when …? or where …? or with whom …? gave him (and his mother, scoffing in the gallery) fits. The jury wasn’t there, so it was in some ways a dress rehearsal for both sides, but it went so resoundingly badly for the defense that I spent the night fretting that we’d come into court the next morning to find out that Bankman-Fried had run the numbers and would no longer testify at all. Luckily, that wasn’t the case.


    When it came time for the real cross-examination, Bankman-Fried’s whole presence on the stand shifted. Gone was the strenuous (approaching affable) nerd who had described his college living situation as “coed, nerdy, and dry” and had explained to the jury why he’d been photographed carrying a deck of playing cards: not because he was a gambling man who wanted to be ready in case a poker game broke out, but rather to give his fidgety hands something to do. (It wasn’t a sustainable solution, he said: He shuffled the cards so often that he shredded through a pack of them a week at one point, and he had to switch to a fidget spinner.) Gone were the chatty asides about how most people strive for Inbox Zero, but his goal is Inbox 60,000. Bankman-Fried was now on the hot seat, and while he’d clearly learned since Thursday to keep his answers as close to “yep” and “nope” as possible, he still couldn’t help but veer into his own way.

    In his direct testimony, Bankman-Fried had displayed a precise, expansive memory, but on cross, he had a much tougher time recollecting even the recent past:

    Sassoon: You testified that you stumbled your way into Michael Kives’s Super Bowl party. Do you recall that?
    Bankman-Fried: The seats at the actual, physical Super Bowl, yes.
    Sassoon: And you flew to the Super Bowl in a private jet, didn’t you?
    Bankman-Fried: I don’t remember.
    Sassoon: You don’t recall flying to the Super Bowl in a private plane?
    Bankman-Fried: I don’t recall how I got there.
    Sassoon: Is that because you traveled on private planes so frequently?

    Again and again, Sassoon asked him about specific statements he made, and he said he didn’t recall or didn’t know what she was referring to. Again and again, she came calmly with the receipts, posting Google Docs or old articles or video links or Signal messages. “Does that refresh your memory?” she would ask. “No,” he’d reply.

    Sassoon [calling up a photo of SBF on a plane]: Mr. Bankman-Fried, is that you in shorts and a T-shirt on a private plane?
    Bankman-Fried: Chartered plane, at least, yes.

    Sassoon established that Bankman-Fried had bragged about being wholly separate from his trading firm, Alameda, but that he had also been directing trading activity—a big blow to his attempted defense that Ellison, the Alameda CEO, should have hedged better. She made Bankman-Fried read aloud a DM of his that said “fuck regulators” and had him admit that he had called some of the folks on crypto Twitter “dumb motherfuckers.” (Well, kind of admit: Bankman-Fried would agree that he had said that about only “a specific subset of them.”) She pulled up stock transfer agreements and wryly observed: “And this says, ‘Unanimous Consent of Board of Directors.’ Looking at the bottom, you were the only member of the board, correct?”

    Once, cornered, Bankman-Fried piped up plaintively: “I can explain …” Sassoon wasn’t interested in that. “That’s all right,” she said, with the exact singsong cadence Miranda Priestly uses when dismissing an underling, as the exhibit monitor displayed all the explanatory proof she needed.


    During the defense’s redirect on Tuesday morning, Bankman-Fried reverted to being a more eager talker and reminiscer. His memory became clearer when he was asked about past conversations and states of mind. He joked to the court about the photo of him on a private jet that the government had posted: “very flattering one.” Ha ha, I guess. But the whiplash in tone mostly served to make his reticent responses to the prosecutor’s earlier questions seem even more shady and petulant.

    In Bankman-Fried’s time on the stand, the wide scope of his personality became clearer and clearer: how convincing and, in his way, winsome he could be; how cold and harsh he could become. Business in front; coed, nerdy, and dry in back. Still, while a lot of his chatter seemed designed to fill the air and distract the jury from the painful caesuras he’d endured from Sassoon, one thing he said came almost certainly from the heart.

    Asked by Cohen why he had told Sassoon “no” under oath when asked if he had spent the missing $8 billion of FTX customer funds, Bankman-Fried had a couple of answers. One was, “Money is fungible anyway.” In other words: Hey, who’s to say?! But the other seemed to speak to one of Sam’s broader, odder points of view. “The other part of it, I mean, I don’t know if this is right or wrong, but for better or for worse, it has been a part of me that, like: I wasn’t particularly interested in trying to dole out blame for it. That wasn’t my priority. It generally wasn’t my priority. It was generally something I de-prioritized.”

    This tracked with something his mother, a law school professor and ethicist, had written for the Boston Review a decade ago: a polemic against “blame mongering.” It also tracked with what Bankman-Fried had told Michael Lewis in the course of being interviewed for his book Going Infinite: that at his first job out of MIT, “Jane Street [Capital] really didn’t like blaming people. … They sort of asked, ‘Did anyone do anything contrary to what they were being told?’ When the answer was no, they said it could just as easily have been the CEO who did it.”

    Later in Going Infinite, Bankman-Fried is quoted as saying, “Fault is just a construct of human society. It serves different purposes for different people. … I guess maybe the most important definition—to me, at least—is how did everyone’s actions reflect on the probability distribution of their future behavior?” In Bankman-Fried’s case, the record seems clear: His actions made him more likely, in the future, to behave as though there would be no consequences for them. His actions made him more likely, in the future, to repeat said actions. And his actions made him more likely, in the future, to arrive at a scenario where he would want to testify in federal court in his own defense in a multibillion-dollar fraud case.

    On Thursday, a different construct of human society—the jury—will begin its deliberations on the seven counts of fraud, conspiracy, and money laundering leveled against Bankman-Fried. And they will ultimately be the ones to determine whether the fault lies with Bankman-Fried or if he’s not guilty of the charges against him. “He took the money. He knew it was wrong. He did it anyway,” Roos said in the government’s closing argument. “Because he thought he was smarter. … [He thought he could] talk his way out of it.” Cohen, speaking for the defense, told the jury, “The government has sought to turn Sam into some sort of villain, some sort of monster. … It’s both wrong and unfair.” Regardless of whom the jury believes, both sides are referring to the same missing billions, the same broken spreadsheets, the same defendant who sat up on the witness stand and made one thing really clear: that he’s forgotten so much more about all of this than we’ll ever be able to know.

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    Katie Baker

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  • Megan Thee Stallion’s Halloween cosplay shows off peak anime taste

    Megan Thee Stallion’s Halloween cosplay shows off peak anime taste

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    Megan Thee Stallion blesses us with banger after banger. This time, it’s not a song, but yet another one of her incredible anime cosplays. On Monday, the American rapper shared photos of her cosplaying as Death the Kid from Soul Eater. The fitting pick just goes to show that Megan Thee Stallion has always had peak taste in anime.

    You can view the full gallery of photos on her Instagram. She largely stayed true to the overall look of Death the Kid where she word an angular suit and black hair painted with his iconic three white stripes. She even recreates the typical top-down camera angle that Soul Eater often uses in one of her photos. Still, she infuses the character’s presentation with her own flair by adding a sick set of pointy nails and art that depicts Death the Kid’s companions, Liz and Patty Thompson with darker skin.

    Soul Eater isn’t exactly a niche series. The manga had 19.6 million copies in circulation as of 2019 and was available to stream on well-known streaming services like Netflix. Still, it’s far from the super popular anime series like Attack on Titan and Demon Slayer. The series aired back in 2008 making it an older series at this point. At this point, anime fans might be more familiar with Shinji Aramaki’s later series, Fire Force.

    But Megan found the perfect fit with Death. Both characters have iconic three-part names with a “the” to emphasize their stardom. On top of that, Death the Kid also has an incredible theme that’s also a rap.

    Image: Studio Bones/Cunchyroll

    Megan Thee Stallion’s love of anime has been a regular aspect of her career and persona. You could write a long list of all her nerdy shenanigans, but we’ll include a couple here to give you an idea: She cosplayed Shoto Todoroki from My Hero Academia in 2019 and Yumeko Jabami from Kakegurui in 2020. Last year, she performed in Japan in full Sailor Moon cosplay. On top of all that, she launched a line with Crunchyroll and has written anime references into her music.

    Megan Thee Stallion is a geek through and through, and now we’ve been blessed with one of her best cosplays yet.

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    Ana Diaz

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  • The Rewatchables: ‘The Omen’ | The Most Terrifying Kid in a Horror Film?

    The Rewatchables: ‘The Omen’ | The Most Terrifying Kid in a Horror Film?

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    The Ringer’s Bill Simmons and Chris Ryan do it all for Damien by rewatching Richard Donner’s 1976 horror classic, The Omen, starring Gregory Peck, Lee Remick, and Harvey Spencer Stephens.

    Subscribe: Spotify / Apple Podcasts / Stitcher / RSS

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    Bill Simmons

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  • What if Super Mario Bros. Wonder’s talking flowers were in Alan Wake 2?

    What if Super Mario Bros. Wonder’s talking flowers were in Alan Wake 2?

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    Alan Wake 2 is bleak stuff. Sure, your flashlight makes the darkness a little less scary, and the full-motion video commercials are a lighthearted wink to players who seek them out. But for some, the game could benefit from a constant positive presence to raise the mood while you traverse the Overlap and beyond.

    Of course, this thought comes after playing Super Mario Bros. Wonder, where each level features a goofy talking flower character who remarks on the player’s actions, or on what’s happening in the game world. After going back and forth between the two games, it’s hard not to imagine what the talking flower would be like in Alan Wake 2.

    Image composition: Cameron Faulkner/Polygon | Source images: Remedy Entertainment/Epic Games Publishing, Nintendo EPD/Nintendo

    Beyond blurting out quips to take your mind off the dread of walking through forests at night with scarily few bullets, or when running from the Dark Presence, the talking flower could be a useful tool for marking objectives, or helping you figure out combinations to safes.

    Inevitably, I think the game would take a dark turn with this, turning the talking flower into a deceptive plot device. Eventually you wouldn’t know if you could trust what the talking flower is telling you, adding to Alan Wake 2’s deft skill of extending its dark fiction over the game’s reality. Are the Taken a threat, or are you the threat? Maybe, just maybe, it’s the talking flower.


    It’s putting thoughts into my mind, ones that I’d rather not be having.

    The chaos is reminding me of how simple things were, back when Alice and I first arrived in Bright Falls. Now, I’m stuck in the Dark Place.

    T̶̘͉̯̀̾̑̈́̈́͑̏̚̕͝h̸̝͔̭̹͎̲̦̖͉͓̊͊̒̓̎͒̑̚͜e̶̢̛̦̠̤̳͍̭̠̠͊̄̑̓̌̂̍̐̍͝ ̵͈͚̞̑͛̀̈́̅ţ̶̧̭̜̙̥̀̐̔͜ă̶̲̬̞͔̠͚̪̣̤̎̀̂̈́̕ḽ̸̬̬͎͙̥̘̈͐͗͋͋͋̍̌̀͛̕̕͠k̸̖͎̙̭̖̝̎̽̃̀͊̃̏̑̾̃͒ḭ̶̧̠͙͕̺͎͊̄̈́̾̇̈̐͋̏͘͝ń̸̢̮̩̰͙͌̆͛g̴̞͖͖͉̭͚̞͋́̒̈̃̄̾͗͂̈̎͘̚ ̵̢͎̺͎̙̭͕̹̞̑̆̈́̿f̴̨̨̧̱͖̫̱̥̖̩̝̯͇̪̀͋̒͐͗̓̎͗̂͐͜͠ĺ̸̡̦̼̖̦͔̗̳̭̫̼̳̘̱̝̎̂͛́̀̓̇̈̎͝o̷̡͓̭̞̲̯̞̘͊̈́̉͋̾̿̓̔̈̅͌͜͝ͅw̴̘͖̉̈́̽͗̏̈́̄̈́̓̈́̓̕͠ȩ̸̡̞̱̟̺̹̲͍͖̹̹̀̈́͒̆̀̊̾̉̑̽̑̕͠ͅŗ̷͉̝̘͚͉̱̫̰̈́ ̸̺̥̤̞̭͙̗͚͍̗̺͈͔̣̃͜͠ḩ̴̡̧̰͕͈̩̱̲̯͚̥͚̦́̇͜a̶̜̰̝̼̬̦̼͓͊̉̈́ṡ̸̡̟̩͎̗̘̭͕͕͍͍͖̠͜ ̵̗̬͉̜̩̂t̵̹͓͍̯̤̭͍̻̹̟͚̎͐͛͠ą̵̟̠̬̮̌̊̍̿̒̂̊͌͋̐̚͝k̶̨̛̝̻̫͕͇̙̼͎̞͕͓̥͒͂̔̽̀̑͒̏̚͜͝ȩ̴̝͓̬̝̘̘̙̤̰̫̞̤̈̎̏̐̒̋̏͋͊͝n̸̢̛̠̖͚̠͎͆̂͛̑́͠ͅ ̵̢̘̹͓͖̘̽͛̀͋̐̚m̵̛͚̊̃͂̃̆̋̓̂͛͆̋̎̃͌y̴̙͖͔̳͍͍̟̫̩͎̙̟̔͛̔̏̓̇̀̈́͆̀ͅͅͅ ̶̠͓̝͉̬̤̟̼̞͉͚͋̇̂͗́ͅp̴̨̞̲̹̩̙̫̖͉̩̠̗̜̀͜l̷̲͚̱͉͓̥̪͑̓̔͛̿̐͋͑͂̈́͘͜ã̸̢͚͓͚͔͊̓̒̈̎̆̾̎̚ç̶̟̤̟̯̘̖̝̫͎̣̹̚e̸̜͓̯͐̑̾̈́̂̉̓̆̐͝ ̶̙̖̲̮̏͌͜ͅí̸̯̇̇̇̆̄̔͋͊̾̋͠n̵̨̠̙̟͎̏́̄̓̔͗̀̚͝͝ ̶̜̞̥̭̰̼̖̞̖̭̈̂͒͒̓͑͛̾̐̽̿̕̕͝͝ŗ̴̮̜̼̔͗͋̉ͅę̷͍̥͖̞̻̗͓͓̥̎̅͑̅̾̓̾̃̿̄̕͠ä̸̛̻̎̅̔̈̈́̅̀̎̂̈́̚͝͝ļ̷͕̫̫̜̄̉́̎̐͝į̷͎͇̖̖͚̍̓̀̉̂́̏͂͑̂͌̕ͅt̷̡͉͎͓̻͙̩͍̙͈͋̏̈̏̎̉̀̕y̵͙͉̩̘̐̈́̃̄́̉̓̍̀̂̅̔͝.̵̢̡̢̭̻̝̭͎͔͖̻͔̓̀͜͜͠ͅ

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    Cameron Faulkner

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