Kotaku’s Tim Rogers published a behemoth Dragon Quest XI review.
Clocking in at over 30 minutes, the video review alone is a time commitment. But the whole thing is fun and genuine, something so good that only a true believer could craft it.
Kotaku’s Tim Rogers published a behemoth Dragon Quest XI review.
Clocking in at over 30 minutes, the video review alone is a time commitment. But the whole thing is fun and genuine, something so good that only a true believer could craft it.
Nora K. Jemisin is an American science fiction and fantasy writer and a psychologist. Her fiction explores a wide variety of themes, including cultural conflict and oppression.
N.K. Jemisin won a Hugo Award last week for The Stone Sky, the concluding novel of her Broken Earth trilogy. I’m nearly finished with The Fifth Season and can’t wait to make my way through the remaining novels in the Broken Earth trilogy.
Please, take a moment to watch her acceptance speech, the full video of which is hosted over at iO9. Jemison’s speech is rare, timely, ferocious, elusive, and unabashedly authentic. Brimming with raw accuracy, the entirety of her speech deserves your time, but my favorite is her conclusion:
So, how many of y’all saw Black Panther? Alright. Okay. Probably my favorite part of it is, actually, Kendrick Lamar’s theme song, ‘All the Stars.’ The chorus of it is, “This may be the night that my dreams might let me know all the stars are closer.” Let 2018 be the year the stars came closer for all of us. The stars are ours. Thank you.
In late November/early December 2016 there could only be one winner: Final Fantasy XV, developed by the geniuses behind Crisis Core and Type-0, or The Last Guardian, developed by the masterful storytellers behind ICO and Shadow of the Colossus.
Both titles were finally releasing after protracted (which is the kindest description) development cycles, and both were arriving after eleventh hour delays.
I picked up Final Fantasy XV.
For everyone’s sake, I’ll skip my reaction to the fifteenth Final Fantasy; but as winter gave way to Spring and to a truly remarkable game lineup (Breath of the Wild, Horizon Zero Dawn, Mass Effect Andromeda) the Last Guardian slipped further and further into the past until now, in August 2017, the Last Guardian has come home.
This isn’t a full review. Instead it’s some immediate thoughts and reactions to the first two hours of gameplay.
The Last Guardian appears spiritually balanced, at least in these opening hours, between Ico and Shadow of the Colossus (hereafter referred to as Colossus because I’m lazy) in that I’m navigating narrow internal spaces with a partner to solve puzzles. Adding scale is the fact that the partner in question is a giant creature that helps solves the puzzles.
Also Trico is adorable.
I’ve read that people are annoyed with the time it takes Trico to move or behave as expected, but color me charmed all the same. I was also interested to see how the camera behaved, and as I’m arriving after 2 or 3 post-launch patches I can immediately detect that the camera will be screwy but, hey, go replay Colossus and try do do literally anything on the horse and then tell me which camera is worse?
(Hint: it’s Colossus.)
So my initial reaction is: it’s not as wonky as I thought it would be. I’m looking forward to catching up on this game, as well as the inevitable heartbreak that comes with any animal companion-centric storyline.
It’s been a long time coming but Someone to Remember Me: The Anniversary Edition is finally on its way to a server near you. After almost two and half years since the original release of the first edition, it is with no small amount of pride that I announce the release of The Anniversary Edition to the existing lineup of services (iBooks, Kindle, Nook) while also premiering for the first time on Goodreads, Kobo, and Google Play.
The Anniversary Edition has been a joyous challenge that began in late 2012, about six months after the original debut. So much of the feedback I received from readers since then has echoed my own thoughts and feelings, resounding strongly enough that I undertook a complete renovation of the novel. The Anniversary Edition is about a quarter larger than its predecessor, features an expanded plot while simultaneously boasting a streamlined narrative. I’m very proud of this second, and very likely final, edition of Someone to Remember Me. To give you a tease idea about the changes, the book’s opening epigraph and table of contents are listed below.
In this hour of daybreak, my sins yearn for absolution once more. They have endured exaltation and exile, ecstasy and misery, born from kindness and yet mired in criminality. Judge my actions as you will, decry them as you must, but the reward for my patience is nigh upon the horizon.
A cold light spreads across the ruined place you fought to possess and, in your arrogance, doomed forever. This fatal truce, this peace in death, could not last. Perhaps that is why you stir? Woken from your age-long slumber, summoned to action by the dawn of the roses.
Part One: The Survivors
Chapter One: Dawn
Chapter Two: A Nearby Sadness
Chapter Three: On the Hunt
Chapter Four: Timeless Knowledge
Chapter Five: Among the Shallows
Part Two: Rapture
Chapter Six: In Memoriam
Chapter Seven: Origins
Chapter Eight: A Soul to Keep
Chapter Nine: The Flaw
Chapter Ten: Love and Reconciliation
Part Three: Eternal Recurrence
Chapter Eleven: Summons
Chapter Twelve: Mortal Coil
Chapter Thirteen: Grand Cross
Chapter Fourteen: All Creation
Chapter Fifteen: Someone to Remember Me
Thank you to everyone who has accompanied me on this journey. If you’d like to receive your updated copy, you only need to delete it out of iBooks and re-download it from the Purchased list. Kindle is a bit trickier—you’ll need to go into your account via Amazon.com, manage your content and devices, and redeliver the book by selecting it from the list and choosing “Deliver.”
This journey has truly been a pleasure. I hope to get back into writing reviews and updates now that The Anniversary Edition has been released into the wild.
In today’s world of graphic design, social media, and instant gratification, I think that you can, increasingly, judge a book by its cover. Of course, that’s not always true and it never stops sounding terrible to say aloud, but I’d be lying if I said that at least some of my purchases aren’t predicated on the quality of the cover design.
Vanity, more than anything, drew me to Leviathan Wakes, the first novel in James S.A. Corey’s The Expanse series. That, and it also has a kickass first sentence—which is another silly habit of mine that I tend to judge books on. I rarely venture into science fiction (for fear of there being too much science and not enough fiction, if you will) but Corey won me over in a quick blitz.
Leviathan Wakes is set several hundred years in the future where a technological wonder called the Epstein Drive allowed the ancestors of protagonists Jim Holden and Josephus Miller to settle Mars, the Asteroid Belt, and the Outer Planets. It’s a curiously limited advancement: Sol belongs to humanity but the stars remain well out of reach. As politics, revolutions, and vendettas threaten to tear the system apart a great conspiracy unfolds unlike any humanity has ever seen before.
I was thrilled by Leviathan Wakes because of the perfect balance it strikes between science and fiction. Corey’s future tries to stay as connected to reality and the laws of physics as possible, but the book remains accessible throughout. I’m reminded of another book that I read, 2312, which is premised on a similar concept but overwhelms the reader with hard science and pages on pages of technical descriptions that overload the plot.
Returning to Leviathan Wakes, readers are treated to hodgepodge cultures of the Belt, Earth, and Mars. While Jim is scouring the system in search of clues to identify the destroyers of his ship and crew, Miller is searching for a missing girl who is, somehow, at the center of it all. Security corporations run amok, United Nations black-ops teams, and Martian warships each make appearances that contribute to Leviathan Wakes being one of the most enjoyable and well-written space operas that I’ve ever read.
This first book in The Expanse series is a standalone novel, meaning that what you read is what you get. Corey has published three other novels, Abaddon’s Gate, Caliban’s War, and Cibola Burn as well as two smaller novels The Butcher of Anderson Station and Gods of Risk. I’m certain that I’ll return to this series in time, but it’s rare to encounter an excellent first-book that stands mightily on its own two feet as Leviathan Wakes does, and so I recommend it highly.
UP NEXT: A review of “The Bright of the Sky” by Kay Kenyon!
The final installment in Glen Cook’s The Chronicles of the Black Company which are also known by the moniker ‘The Books of the North’ in the greater chronology of his Black Company series, The White Rose is very much unlike any finale that I’ve read to date. I shouldn’t be surprised because, if you’ve read my reviews of the previous novels The Black Company and Shadows Linger, then it’s obvious by now that Glen Cook knows how to weave a unique tale that simultaneously embraces and eschews the fantasy norms.
The White Rose resumes about four years after the conclusion of Shadows Linger and the ragged dregs of the Black Company have retreated to the Plain of Fear, a wild region of the world where windwhales and change storms sweep the coral-covered desert. After suffering the Black Company’s betrayal at Juniper, the Lady is tightening the noose around them on the Plain. Darling, the girl around whom magic ceases to work, is plotting the downfall of the Lady and her northern Empire when a familiar shadow casts itself across the north: the Dominator.
One of my few issues with this book is that the story comes dangerously close to be an almost exact retread of the plot from the second book. In The White Rose, our protagonists and antagonists find themselves at odds with one another but must band together, setting aside their personal differences temporarily, in order to subdue the greater evil. What The White Rose boasts that Shadows Linger never managed to accomplished, and luckily elevates it therein, is a more mythic feel that arises from the fantastic locations in which it is set. The Plain of Fear and the Barrowlands, bought lively and monstrous in their own ways, are so integral to the plot of the novel that they almost become their own characters respectively.
Another great feat is the continued humanization of the Lady. Cook, through Croaker, really takes to task the notion of good and evil. Through the Lady, readers are asked to consider the idea that people can do terrible things in the pursuit of a higher goal and, therefore, not necessarily be evil. The Lady has massacred hundreds of thousands in her effort to maintain power and, just as willingly, sacrifices even more to secure the world from the return of her malevolent husband. Darling is another unique break from the status quo because she projects a null, a field in which magic can’t work. Therefore, any lasting resolution to the question of the Lady and the Dominator will almost certainly involve her specifically for practical, if not prophetic, reasons.
Cook lines up the many displaced pieces of his story to tell the story of what must be done for the greater good, even if the resolution is far from whatever happy ending readers might feel entitled do. In essence, The White Rose is about people doing the work that needs to be done—fantastic, realistic, good, or bad.
Generally, I’m wary when recommending series. Typically, they require an investment with little promise of a worthy return. I can safely say that The Chronicles of the Black Company, the compendium volume that includes The Black Company, Shadows Linger, and The White Rose, is certainly worth the time of any reader looking for a series that will refresh their appreciation for the genre.
UP NEXT: A review of “Leviathan Wakes” by James S.A. Corey!
Four years have passed since the epic final battle at the Tower of Charm in The Black Company, the first novel in The Chronicles of the Black Company, and readers once again experience the mercenary brigade’s adventures through the eyes of Croaker, the Company historian. Shadows Linger does not so much concern itself with the aftermath of the war against the Rebel but with the growing specter of the Dominator (the male counterpart to the first novel’s antagonistic sorceress and chief-employer of the Company, the Lady) and the forces that seek to return him to corporeal world.
As the Black Company purges the North of the last Rebel elements they are unhappily drawn to the distant fringe city of Juniper, a cold and religious place where a dreaded black castle inhabited by monstrous beings is engaged in the latest attempt to revive the Dominator. Currently entombed in the Barrowland, the Dominator’s minions are trying to build another portal through which he can return and usher in ten thousand years of darkness.
The Lady, ruler of the northern Empire, orders the Black Company to spearhead the siege but Croaker and the others inadvertently find themselves on the trails of Raven and Darling. Darling is the girl prophesied to be the White Rose who will ultimately destroy the Dominator and the Lady, and is a friend to the Company, which puts them on the defensive in more ways than one.
Shadows Linger is a strange sophomore installment because, in almost every way, it breaks from the traditional middle-book mold fairly regularly. Rather than center itself as a bridge between the first and third books Shadows Linger produces its own plot that is secluded enough that it can be read independently of the first book, but inclusive enough that it fits well with the trilogy. What’s more, it expands the narrative from Croaker to Raven and a Juniper-native called Shed. By doing so it better explores the depths to which these men will sink in order to advance their individual goals: Shed is a study in poverty and immorality; Croaker’s unusual relationship with the Lady grants us a peculiar view into the inner workings of a ruthless but almost humane tyrant.
But, like its predecessor, Shadows Linger shines when it’s Croaker that’s doing the talking. He, along with the rest of the novel, genuinely wrestles with what it means to ally with the lesser of two evils because as the Dominator nears his return, Croaker and the rest of the Black Company must fight even harder to keep him down; and therefore in defense of the Lady. This central conflict overshadows Shed’s acts of heresy against Juniper’s dominant religion; and compliments Raven’s architecting the destruction of one of Juniper’s criminal overlords. Repeatedly, this book provides instances of characters picking the least worst option and never gets close to something as naive or unrealistic as a happy ending.
Shadows Linger provided a strong second installment in The Chronicles of the Black Company and is an excellent introduction to the final novel in this first trilogy. Succeeded by The White Rose, Shadows Linger did a great job of giving us more of the characters that we love in a world where the only choices are either bad or worse.
Ever wonder what it’d be like to work for Sauron? Or Voldemort? Or just about any other big-bad in fantasy literature?
To be honest, it was a question I hadn’t pondered until THE BLACK COMPANY cunningly brought it up. Glen Cook’s fantasy exodus is narrated from the vantage point of Croaker, the historian of the mercenary group known the world over as the Black Company. For 400 years the company has moved from employer to employer, doing deeds and moving on. When their latest employer, a malignant ruler of the empire in the north who is known simply as the Lady, hires the Black Company to help her win her war against a rebel uprising, the spirited sell-swords are dragged into a terrible conflict.
And, as it turns out, it proves to be a thrilling journey that is quickly paced, deviously plotted, and left me desperate for more.
There’s so much to love about the Black Company. Maybe it’s Croaker, the historian and physician, who hasn’t quite lost his own spark of goodness. Not that the rest of the company has either, since the novel makes clear that good people can still do terrible things. Or maybe it’s the brilliantly written, stunningly executed antagonist known as the Lady. Sometimes mocking, sometimes cruel, but always brilliant—the Lady is a treatment on villains done exceptionally well. Perhaps it’s the web of strategy, betrayals, and subversion that the Company finds itself caught in amongst the Lady’s most ancient and dangerous servants, the Taken?
Add to that the tried and true story of the Rebel fighting against the oppressors, but this time add in the horrors and realities of war, and the result is borderline magnificent. Reality is an omnipresent theme of the first novel in the omnibus set called the Chronicles of the Black Company. Croaker and the rest of the Company don’t read like the stereotypical military unit that is portrayed in other books and movies. Rather, it’s a band of outcasts who join together to try and create their own bizarre family while doing the work demanded of them to get paid.
Make no mistake, the Black Company isn’t an easy read. In fact, it can be challenging because of the ideas it proposes and the grisly scenes it presents. But Croaker’s central tenet that the Company often picks the lesser of two evils and that morality is inherently subjective sets the stage expertly for the showdown between the imperial forces of the Lady and revolutionary army thrown together by the Rebel. Is either force really any better than the other? Is there a breaking point where the money doesn’t outweigh the values of morality?
In several ways, The Black Company is a book that proposes questions but hardly bothers to answer any of them. In the end, Cook leaves us with a haunting scene. A pyrrhic victory.
In a sense, the first book in the Chronicles proves to be something of an initiation rite for readers. By going through this haunting experience with characters that feel less imaginary and more real, Glen Cook does an amazing job of establishing his world and making its merits, successes, and losses all the more poignant.
When Myfanwy Thomas wakes up in the rain bruised and battered but—most importantly—amnesiac, she is thrust into the supernatural underbelly of modern day Britain.
Rarely, oh so rarely, does a novel as engaging and thrilling as The Rook come across my desk. This is one of those precious urban fantasy novels whose conceit simply works right from the start. From the first page to the last, Daniel O’Malley utterly envelops the reader into the most believable of unbelievable notions: that an organization called the Checquy Group monitors and covers-up the supernatural activities in the UK and that Myfanwy Thomas, the unsuspecting bureaucrat, has been drawn into a brutal power-struggle. O’Malley treats his world, where possessed houses gobble people up and the ‘powered’ individuals of the Checquy are given chess-related titles (hence the title), with equal parts gleeful joviality and soberingly pensive moments.
The Rook tackles a variety of themes ranging from what constitutes a personality to the nature of equality and Rook Thomas takes point in these spirited debates. I found that the informal tone of the book added depth to it; enriched by the often times bizarre gifts that O’Malley imbues the staffers of the Checquy Group with—a team of doctors actually licks the protagonist thoroughly at one point! But The Rook, for its many foibles and irreverent references, always plays with a central question of the nature of power: who wields it, who doesn’t, and whether that’s reality or a fantasy in itself.
As far as urban fantasy goes, which can be done poorly as often as it done well, The Rook exceeds where others have failed namely by maintaining the veil of secrecy that separates the supernatural realm from the mortal realm. The Checquy Group act as the judge, jury, and executioners in all magical affairs in their effort to maintain strict secrecy. This element of secrecy really helps the book excel as a whole and reinforces why urban fantasy exists as a genre: we want to believe that there are dark and terrible things on the fringes of reality and The Rook delivers upon that notion in droves.
It’s with rabid enthusiasm that I recommend Daniel O’Malley’s The Rook to anyone looking for a great read. And if this review wasn’t enough to sell you on the book, then the duck that can tell the future should definitely do the trick…
There are few things that I adore as fervently as the Final Fantasy series. Regardless of your opinion of the current state of the franchise, there’s no denying that a series with over 25 years of history is a force to be contended with. In 1987, a nearly bankrupt game company by the name of the Squaresoft released what it thought would be it’s last game and, in what proved to be an ironic twist of fate, FINAL FANTASY became the first entry in Square’s wildly successful RPG franchise. Currently encompassing fourteen main entries (FINAL FANTASY I-XIV) and dozens of spin offs, remakes, and—in certain instances—pure cash cows (I’m looking at you, FINAL FANTASY: ALL THE BRAVEST), the name FINAL FANTASY is synonymous with the highest quality story, music and art that can be found throughout the medium.
For some people it’s Mario. For others it’s Link. For me, it’s all about Final Fantasy. If I had to name a favorite then, easily, I would choose FINAL FANTASY IX. Most people name-drop VII (with Cloud and Sephiroth and Meteor) as their favorite Final Fantasy, and while that’s fair, it’s simply not the best Final Fantasy. As far as translation quality, art direction, and musical execution go, FINAL FANTASY IX is superbly unmatched. As the swan-song Final Fantasy for the Playstation 1 era, it goes unrivaled even thirteen years after its release.
It’s only fitting in an ironically cruel sort of way, then, that I discovered THE SKY: THE ART OF FINAL FANTASY almost a month after it was published. After a particularly grueling week at work, I came to the conclusion that I deserved a treat for a job well done and this elaborate, beautifully slipcased edition was mine as soon as I found it on Amazon. As far as quality goes, I’ve owned a lot of “collector’s edition” memorabilia when it comes to the Final Fantasy series but this set of art books is the most stunning and impressive that I’ve ever owned. It outdoes, by sheer weight alone, the other contenders that come to mind. It shames the guide books for the games and derisively snorts at the art book that came with the collector’s edition of FINAL FANTASY XII.
Where to begin, then, with THE SKY: THE ART OF FINAL FANTASY? Firstly, this box set is epic. I hate throwing that word around because of how devalued it has become as a result of the über-hype media machine that’s been built by my generation, but nothing else so perfectly describes the heft and weight of three respectable art books kept within a high quality slip cover. This “slip cover,” by the way, is more like a protective casing with an animated felt exterior. Nothing about the box feels cheap, but rather silky and ethereal as the artwork it contains.
Yoshitaka Amano, to any respectable Final Fantasy fan, is immediately recognizable as the artist responsible for the logos of each numbered installment in the main series—the exception being the logo of Final Fantasy IX, a logo that nobody wants to take credit for. Amano was the main illustrator for games I through VI, contributed promotional artwork for VII and VIII, and returned as the main illustrator for IX. Since Final Fantasy X his role in the series’ illustrations is largely a symbolic one; he creates the logos for each numbered game, contributes some artwork prints, but has otherwise been active in different fields ranging from novel illustrations to manga and comics.
However, that does not detract from the fact that Yoshitaka Amano’s fame is eclipsed, or perhaps only shared with, the pantheon of individuals who launched the FINAL FANTASY series to international acclaim, rubbing shoulders with the likes of Hironobu Sakaguchi and Nobuo Uematsu.
And so this box set is primarily aimed at series fans of games I through X. Book 1 details his illustrative contributions for games I through III; Book 2 contains his work on games IV through VI and is the thickest of the set, nearly the size of the first and third books combined. Given that IV, V, and VI were the first games to really try to tell stories that were unique to themselves—despite being numbered, each Final Fantasy game is wholly separate from its predecessors—and introduced iconic elements like chocobos, moogles, and Cid, that was to be expected. And fans of FINAL FANTASY VI, which is widely regarded as one of the best videogames in history, will not be disappointed. Book 3, thinnest of the bunch, contains art from VII to X and more than a third of it is dedicated to IX, much to my joy!
Book 1 is a treat, if only to see how Amano’s style began. His black and white drawings, often fearsome, are almost gothic.
As the series matured, along with the technology responsible for translating Amano’s craft to playable format, so too does Amano’s style. Color and definition play a more important function but his most striking work tends to be excruciatingly detailed in black and white, as we see in Book 3. Take, for instance, the logo of FINAL FANTASY X.
It’s an iteration of a massive print, originally done in black and white, of the protagonist character Yuna conducting a dance called “the sending” in which the souls of the dead are dispatched to the afterlife. Book 3 contains, across two massive pages, the immense masterpiece that the logo ultimately underserves. I snapped a square of Yuna alone, and I think it at least hints at the intricate beauty with which the image was crafted.
Where this set shines is when, as an avid fan, I was able to connect with the artwork for my favorite games. In particular, I found the artwork for IV, VI, and IX to be especially compelling. Absorbing art is always a silent and rather contemplative action, but in this instance it’s amplified by the knowledge that Amano directly impacted the evolution and visual style of my favorite entries. In a small and unimportant way, I participated in his artistic process.
As soon as it arrived, THE SKY: THE ART OF FINAL FANTASY became one of my most treasured possessions. Dark Horse Comics, the publishers of this tome of artistic triumphs, has published a variety of other companion art books of high quality. At this year’s San Diego ComicCon, I perused their booth and took note of the art books they had for The Legend of Korra and was definitely impressed. THE SKY will assuredly join my copy of HYRULE HISTORIA as testaments to the fact that videogames can be, and inherently are, works of artistic merit.
THE SKY: THE ART OF FINAL FANTASY is a nostalgic and powerful love letter to the fans of Final Fantasy, and is not to be missed.