Tag: Gamecube

A real gem

I realized a little while ago that the Nintendo Gamecube was released 25 years ago, today. It seemed like I should do something to commemorate that. Which brings us to today’s word.

spinel, noun – a purplish, octahedral gemstone

Learned from: Resident Evil 4 (Gamecube, Playstation 2, Nintendo Wii)

Developed by Capcom

Published by Capcom (2005)

First off, yes I know you can play the remake of RE4 on newer platforms, but this is a post celebrating the Gamecube. And I’ve been told the remake is a fine game as well, but even the original version (which started out as a Gamecube exclusive) was an incredible game. Easily in my top 25 of all time; maybe top 10. At a time when the franchise had gotten stale, Capcom went in a completely different direction, and essentially reinvented what Resident Evil could be.

Gone are the shambling, mindless zombies of the first three games. Gone is Raccoon City. Hell, for most of the game, the Umbrella Corporation is AWOL as well. Instead, we’ve got a cult somewhere in Spain that’s kidnapped the president’s daughter, enemies who coordinate their attacks, a new parasite that I really wish Capcom would use again sometime, and a rescue mission that’s the absolute perfect blend of campy, scary, action-packed, and stealthy. There’s even a bit of Indiana Jones-esque reappropriation of priceless cultural artifacts that’s your main way of upgrading your gear.

Okay, they’re not all priceless. The random beer steins and gemstones (including the occasional spinel crystal) don’t exactly belong in a museum, but the necklaces, and chalices, and gold bars that Leon Kennedy pawns off with abandon to the trenchcoat-wearing shady merchant probably constitute some kind of international crime. But then, this is a game where you’re roundhouse-kicking rural villagers coming at you with pitchforks, and shotgunning your way through ancient castles while a tiny man in a tricorn hat taunts you over your radio. (You eventually shotgun him, too.)

Resident Evil 4 is…a lot, but damn near all of it is good. And just writing about it is making me want to play it again–or finally try out the remake. Either way, it’s been far too long since I last fought my way through Spain to save the president’s daughter from a parasite-god.

Surely, this is worth a couple of bullets, at least?

Moving forward

I recently got back from visiting my family downstate for the holidays. It was great getting out of my bubble for a bit, seeing folks I haven’t gotten to in several years (thanks, COVID), and experiencing all the wonderful food and cultural opportunities a more metropolitan area offers. It was a great trip for a lot of reasons.

We also got in a few movies, including the absolutely incredible Godzilla: Minus One, which is not only the best Godzilla movie I’ve ever seen, but my film of the year–not that I go to the theater much these days, so take that how you will. But in leading up to the film, there was a trailer for a different, much more depressing-looking movie. Which brings us to today’s word.

atavistic, adj. - the reversion to something ancestral; the reemergence of a past outlook, activity, or style

Learned from: Metal Gear Solid: The Twin Snakes (Gamecube)

Developed by Konami Computer Entertainment Japan, Silicon Knights

Published by Konami (2004)

Godzilla: Minus One is not only a triumph of filmmaking, but also of the human spirit. I don’t want to spoil much, but suffice it to say that the movie’s underlying message is that you don’t always need to sacrifice yourself for the good of your loved ones, or your government, or society–there’s almost always another way. It’s beautiful, hopeful, and a surprisingly moving film that hits way above its weight class on an emotional level. Seriously, watch this movie.

But before I was sucker punched right in the feels by a Godzilla movie, of all things, there was a trailer for I.S.S. And the two films could not be more tonally different. This trailer starts with a lot of messaging about how the International Space Station is bridges national and cultural gaps, where the best and brightest from around the world come together at the forefront of scientific advancement, etc. and so on. Cue scenes of happy Russians and Americans laughing, enjoying the view, and bonding…then they see World War III break out. Large swaths of Earth are literally on fire, yet somehow both the Russian and American leaders have enough infrastructure left to send messages to their respective scientists on the I.S.S., ordering them to secure the station, “at any cost.”

And judging from the rest of the trailer, that’s exactly what they set out to try and do.

It’s horrendously depressing in a vacuum (no pun intended), but even more so when contrasted with the actual movie that I watched that day. Godzilla: Minus One is a celebration of hope, perseverance, and working together in the face of impossible odds. It takes place in the smoking aftermath of World War II, and says that even in our darkest times, we can rise above what we were. But I.S.S.? The message there seems to be that things can–and will–always get worse. That there’s no escaping the primal, tribal violence that so much of our history is shaped around. Even when there’s nothing left worth fighting over.

By now, you’re probably asking yourself what the hell this has to do with Metal Gear Solid: The Twin Snakes. Or, if you’re familiar with Hideo Kojima’s Philosophy 101 bloviating, maybe you understand all too well.

It’s during the fight against Psycho Mantis I believe, where he’s incessantly monologuing at you, that he brings up something about mankind’s atavistic tendencies. Honestly, it was long enough ago that I played this, and even at the time I tuned most of it out, but that word stuck with me. Here’s a guy prancing around in a gimp suit, making your controller vibrate, and taunting you with comments about the save files on your memory card (if you had any other Konami games on there), and in the midst of all that word salad, he tosses out “atavistic.”

You may be getting the impression that I don’t really like Hideo Kojima’s work, and you’d be right. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to go off on a tangent about just how overrated I think his games are, but I won’t. Instead, I’m going to go full circle back to movies, and end this post (and this year, as I’m writing this on December 31st), with a message from another memorable film, Everything, Everywhere, All at Once: Please, just be kind.

Even you, you Voldo-wannabe.