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Tag: Trapped

  • Chicago’s Pedestrianized Street Program Remains Trapped in Political Purgatory

    Chicago’s Pedestrianized Street Program Remains Trapped in Political Purgatory

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    In 2020, Chicago — like many other parts of the country — began pedestrianizing select streets to make room for outdoor dining. This was positioned as a lifeline to keep restaurants open while COVID-19 policies prohibited indoor dining.

    Former Mayor Lori Lightfoot pushed this outdoor dining program, which was clustered around several North Side neighborhoods like Lakeview, Gold Coast, and River North. The mayor’s office argued the program was a success and showcased the city, counteracting the negative conservative rhetoric that framed Chicago as unsafe. Supporters say pedestrianized streets give Chicago’s downtown a European feel and increased morale during the height of the pandemic; it was also an unorthodox move to help draw people back to Downtown Chicago.

    Urbanists hoped that the programs could stick around. Supporters including advocates for reducing car traffic hoped the outdoor dining program was the future. A restaurant owner inside Time Out Market Chicago, the food hall along Fulton, says sales were badly hurt last year when the city stopped allowing the food hall to set up seating on the street.

    Street parking is difficult in the West Loop and Fulton Market. Pedestrianized streets take away spaces and require the city to pay an impact fee to LAZ Parking, which operates and maintains the city’s parking meters. But that fee isn’t significant, according to one city hall source. The city made up more in exchange for the positive message outdoor dining can have on restaurants and customers.

    River North and its outdoor dining program along a three-block stretch on Clark Street between Grand Avenue and Kinzie Street has brought controversy. Block Club Chicago reported the conflict between 42nd Ward Ald. Brendan Reilly and Mayor Brandon Johnson. Reilly, whose constituents include restaurants like the Smith, Rick Bayless’ Frontera Grill, and Havana Grill, blamed Johnson for nixing the program “on behalf of his allies in organized labor.” Reilly later left the door ajar for the program’s return by saying the program is under the mayor’s review.

    Reilly stated in a July 2023 newsletter to constituents that the program would not be renewed for 2024 after the October 2023 permit expired, despite the results from a survey shared in Reilly’s April 2023 newsletter showing that 80 percent of respondents favored closing the street.

    In May 2023, a group of alderpersons objected to former Mayor Lightfoot’s policy of automatic permit renewals, something Lightfoot’s office installed to speed up processes during the pandemic. In 2022, Reilly raised the issue of aldermanic privilege and opposed a permanent program that would shut down Clark. The city hall source says Reilly’s objections were rooted in his dislike of Lightfoot which superseded any attempt to quickly take action to allow restaurants to make the most out of Chicago’s short warm weather season: “He sank the vote for it,” the source says. Reilly would eventually support an ordinance that brought back outdoor dining after Johnson took office.

    Another city council source says alderpersons are well aware of how important the topic is to Reilly, who’s known to frequent Boss Bar, a late-night tavern that benefited from the street dining program. Because of that, they’re reluctant to speak out: “It’s sacred ground to him,” the source says.

    Reilly, who claimed on social media that the street closure was his idea, has forged strong ties with River North restaurants, which complicates matters further as opinions from restaurant owners have varied on whether they want the Clark Street program to return. Meanwhile, since the program’s inception in 2022, several neighborhood groups have sent letters to Lightfoot and Johnson’s offices objecting to closing down the streets. Grant DePorter, owner of Harry Caray’s, sent a letter in December 2022 detailing how the closure negatively impacted his business. DePorter adds that there are accessibility issues, as well. He mentions that 94-year-old Dutchie Caray, the wife of the restaurant’s namesake, has struggled to navigate the traffic. DePorter also mentions former Buffalo Bills head coach Marv Levy, a 98-year-old Chicago native, who also has had trouble getting to the restaurant while Clark has been closed.

    Bayless, the city’s most famous living chef — who posed with Mayor Johnson in March to celebrate the city’s proclamation of Rick Bayless Day last month — tells Eater that it’s a complicated topic because downtown businesses haven’t recovered from the pandemic. A lack of Mag Mile shoppers has also hurt River North restaurants.

    “Mix that up with the repairs on the Kennedy [Expressway] causing long travel times and the fact that people all around Chicago now say that it’s dangerous to come downtown, and you can see why those of us who are firmly planted in River North are looking for everything we can to boost business,” Bayless writes in a text.

    Bayless adds that Johnson believes restaurants will play a big role in reviving downtown.

    “Then why not close off the street and create a safe and vital atmosphere to draw people in?” the chef adds: “Will it hurt our business to have the street closed? Probably not much. Would it help our business? I can answer that with a resounding ‘yes.’”

    Others share Bayless’s opinion. More than 2,700 people have signed an online petition asking the mayor, Ald. Reilly, and Chicago Department of Transportation commissioner Tom Carney to bring back the program.

    On the other side is Sam Sanchez, a former chair of the Illinois Restaurant Association (one of his daughters, Korina, is a current board member). Sam Sanchez says the program should end. It was a pandemic lifeline whose time has come, he argues, stating that the program only benefits a handful of restaurants and gives them an unfair advantage while taking away business from other restaurants who have spent money building their own patios and licensed sidewalk patios.

    Sanchez doesn’t blame the restaurants along Clark Street that benefit as he says any owner would love additional capacity, but it’s not fair. He points out that Gold Coast restaurants around Mariano Park didn’t push for outdoor dining programs to continue after Springfield restored indoor dining. Restaurants like Gibsons and Tavern on Rush were examples of ethical businesses, ones that didn’t take advantage of government relief that was supposed to be only temporary, he says. Sanchez also mentions Pink Taco, a Mexican bar — part of a chain — that closed in July 2022 after four years in Chicago. Sanchez says restaurants west of Clark Street are hurt because of traffic jams the street closures caused and that Pink Taco, 431 N. Wells Street, was among those impacted.

    “We don’t need to shut down the streets when restaurants are hurting post-pandemic and are still trying to recover,” Sanchez says.

    He wonders how new businesses, like the upcoming Hawksmoor steakhouse at 500 N. LaSalle, will do if traffic is jammed up. When asked if it would be okay if the program returned for select weekends in River North — the program will return in Lakeview for two weekends, on June 7 and again on July 12 — Sanchez wasn’t moved.

    “We have street fests for this, we have Taste of River North for this — we have many festivals where people can enjoy the outdoors,” he says.

    As the arrival of spring teases Chicagoans, restaurants are preparing to squeeze every opportunity and dollar out of outdoor dining, and they await the city council’s final decision. Sanchez says the mayor has more important topics to worry about. In the end, the winner will be which side has the best lobbyists, he says.

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    Ashok Selvam

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  • Layers Of Fear: The Kotaku Review

    Layers Of Fear: The Kotaku Review

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    There’s a lot to admire about Layers of Fear, Polish studio Bloober Team’s new reimagining of its (relatively) excellent surreal, psychological adventure horror series.

    Developed alongside Anshar Studios, which previously assisted Bloober in expanding its sci-fi horror Observer in 2020, this new version of Layers of Fear compounds the original 2016 game, its DLC, Layers of Fear 2, a new DLC, and a new story meant to fill the gaps into one beautifully complex, decayed rose. But while the series has never looked better—Layers of Fear was made with Unreal Engine 5—its narrative is contrived, choking sometimes on its own ambitious intricacies.

    My disappointment is poetic. Most of the characters the game lets you choose—The Painter, his wife The Musician, The Actor, and The Writer, who is introduced to the series for the first time in this game—suffer from the same sickness: getting squished under impractical aspirations. Through Layers of Fear’s divided chapters, I play each of them in first-person and piece together their distressing pasts through notes and their own commentary.

    Letters with scratched-out names, found sentimental objects like a cracked conch shell, and a barrage of enigmatic voiceover tell me that the Layers of Fear cast has been successful in art before, and so they’re determined to keep striving, however unreasonable their goals start to feel in the game’s morphing, pitch-black houses. Only boring things can hold them back, earthly things, like the brown liquor The Artist depends on, or the marred skin stretched painfully over The Musician’s burnt fingers.

    But these are temporary setbacks—the splendor of their art and genius can’t be contained by something as small and imperfect as a body, the characters suggest. So they turn to the Rat Queen, the series’ villain formally introduced in 2019’s Layers of Fear 2, with her long teeth and black marble eyes, and she forces them to take her supernatural path to greatness.

    Screenshot: Bloober Team / Kotaku

    Layers of Fear is my favorite walking simulator

    With its emphasis on piece-by-piece discovery and exploration, there isn’t much typical “gameplay” in Layers of Fear, so I spend the majority of my time in it digesting this information. The series frequently has been called, with a little bit of a scoff, a “spooky walking simulator,” and that’s what I spend over 10 hours doing—walking, and, sometimes, screaming at sudden sounds, like dissonant, echoing piano chords.

    There aren’t options to do a lot more. Aside from walking, I can run—or, more accurately, walk with more DualSense feedback—and pick items up by hitting right trigger. I can zoom in on secret codes and puzzle solutions since they’ve all been changed from their original iterations, and in the Layers of Fear 2 section, I can crouch into vents.

    The Layers of Fear Rat Queen hovers over a boy seated on a stage.

    Screenshot: Bloober Team / Kotaku

    The most significant gameplay adjustment between this Layers of Fear and previous titles is the introduction of a handheld light source. It isn’t particularly shocking, but it breaks the series’ passivity tradition, since the lights are not only practical, they’re violent. By hitting both triggers, my beam becomes incendiary, and I use it to singe a fresh puzzle type—it appears like a blurry blob and obscures exits and key items—as well as approaching enemies. For The Artist, who has shunned electricity in his palatial 1920’s home, this means pointing a glowing gas lantern at visions of my dead wife, who may or may not have deserved it, but other characters get to use flashlights to illuminate the rot around them.

    Anyway, I don’t mind just walking. The game’s level and puzzle designs are immaculately unpredictable. They shift when I’m not looking, and I get a nervous thrill from not knowing what will happen if I turn back around. Will I find a film photo? A chopped-up finger? Am I about to get trapped in a looping hallway, or locked closet, or bedroom with no windows, or keys, or air to breathe?

    That is what makes Layers of Fear scary, and therefore entertaining. With its rebuilt graphics, the game shapeshifts as convincingly as a terrified chameleon. If I look behind this empty picture frame, a door will appear. If I begin to play this roll of film, a big, white moon will descend and enrapture me. It’s scary to move with determination toward uncertainty, and Layers of Fear exploits that, diffusing in me a tumbling ocean wave of unease.

    But, oh, God, the story.

    Layers of convoluted lore

    This is what makes the game both aggravating and appealing: If Layers of Fear were a person, it would live its whole life with its head up its ass. It wants, somewhere in its shifting staircases and infinite basements, to discover the psychology behind great art.

    Since this is a horror game we’re talking about, its interpretation of that psychology is insufferable. I understand quickly that the environments I’m in are physical manifestations of artists’ looping thoughts and cobwebbed instincts, knotted with metal chains and wet candle wax. A creative mind is an uncomfortable and unsatisfying place, the game tells me, and really lays on the metaphor.

    Layers of Fear routinely makes references to legendary creative work like The Picture of Dorian Gray, Faust, The Shining, and so on, and I am hit on the head with how important art is; “Great art carries a heavy cost,” a note says, “To create is to reach into chaos,” a voiceover instructs. “Chaos is darkness. Warm. Soft. Swarming. He understood it in the end. Will you?”

    Um, not really, TBH.

    Taking cues from its influences, Layers of Fear’s demon is the Rat Queen, who is featured more prominently in the added Writer and Musician content. But Unlike Dorian Gray or Faust, in which men knowingly give up their souls in exchange for sex and knowledge, the characters in Layers of Fear are traumatized people the Rat Queen coerces into pursuing unattainable perfection. As a result, Layers of Fear isn’t a cautionary tale about selfishness.

    I don’t really know what it is. It points out things it wants me to feel without letting me feel them. The most egregious case of this happening is in The Musician’s DLC, where found diary entries describe her house as a “prison.” Eventually, I place a dead songbird back into its cage. Yeah, I get it.

    Whereas something like Faust satirizes the tortured artist, conveying that creative people aren’t necessarily special people, that they can be as bad as anyone, Layers of Fear seems to say that art is uncontrollable. It’s a hungry, magical force, and if a wife, or a sister, or a daughter are caught and bloodied in its insatiable mouth then, well. So be it.

    I find that difficult to accept. I think it’s damaging, too, to contextualize art as something dangerous and wild, however reverentially Layers of Fear phrases it. Art isn’t the boogeyman. It’s not the problem—people are, usually. Blaming a monster, like the Rat Queen, feels too easy to me. That’s a narrative issue I’ve had with Layers of Fear since the beginning, and the new Writer and Musician stories have unfortunately made it snowball.

    Still, I am impressed with Bloober’s ground-up transformation of its series into a compact nightmare with white rats. The game is a show of strength, despite fans’ reservations for the studio’s upcoming Silent Hill 2 remake, and I admire a game that cares about art as deeply as its characters do. I only wish that it weren’t so annoying about it.

     

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    Ashley Bardhan

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