Nov 06

Nothing New

Ecclesiastes 1:9 New International Version “What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.”

My cousin and I discussed movie makers’ lack of originality in some of their productions. Far too many films are simply remakes of previously successful movies and television shows. Not all the remakes are as successful as the originals.

“The Seven Samurai” produced in 1954 was remade as “The Magnificent Seven” starring Yul Brynner. Both were successful films. The 2016 version of “The Magnificent Seven” is a decent remake if you enjoy a good western where you lose track of the body count. The inclusion of Denzel Washington and Chris Pratt, both delicious eye candy, helped the mediocre script. The cultural diversity of the seven heroes can’t be overlooked.

Lew Wallace’s 1880 novel, Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ, was made into the 1925 successful silent film “Ben-Hur.” The 1959 version starring Charlton Heston and featuring 10,000 extras, 2,500 horses, and about 200 camels was a classic. However, the 2016 version was a flop with a lackluster script and a highly digitized version of the great chariot race.

“Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” starring Gene Wilder was a beloved classic and Johnny Depp’s remake was a waste of screen time.

Simone Signoret’s “Diabolique,” a well-crafted, hold-your-breath 1955 French thriller had the audience gasping at key points in the story. American film makers produced a fair remake that wasn’t quite as terrifying, but the television version fell flat.

1954’s “Sabrina” starring Audrey Hepburn, Humphrey Bogart, and William Holden was remade in 1995 with Harrison Ford, Julia Ormond, and Greg Kinnear. I must admit I did enjoy this remake better than the original, probably because I liked Ford better than Bogart.

The re-creation of specific stories without substantial changes to the basic plot is a lazy way to make money. Reworking a familiar story with a different rendering can be done successfully.

Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet romance has been retold many times but none better than in the musical “West Side Story.”

The story of Cinderella has been depicted in animation as well as in live action. However, Drew Barrymore’s “Ever After” was a more creative rendition of a strong-willed Cinderella rather than the shy, emotionally abused young wimp in the fairy tales.

Rather than always doing remakes, movie makers could produce more films about real life.
One example, “Deepwater Horizon,” a true story depicting crew members fighting for survival when the Deepwater Horizon oil rig exploded in the Gulf of Mexico, is riveting.

Another example, “Queen of Katwe,” portraying the life of an uneducated young girl from Uganda who became a world-class chess champion, was inspiring. I enjoyed this film because it helped me learn about the trials and tribulations in another culture.

Even better would be more out-of-the-box stories. Two refreshing examples of great writing are the cartoons “Frozen” and “Inside Out”.

A great original, live action, character-driven production, “Hell or High Water,” is a well-crafted, western heist without overdoing the gunplay.

Have you thought about writing new, refreshing plots and not just doing a retread of the familiar ones? Surely there’s something new under the sun or at least new ways of telling it.

Nov 05

Dead Rising: Not Your Typical Zombie Game

The video game franchises of Fallout and Resident Evil are among my all-time favorites, but they are far from the only series I absolutely love.  I would say that what I enjoy most about story-driven video games is that they offer a departure from everyday conventional life.  My adventures have ranged from uniting a dozen different alien races to combat a common threat (the Mass Effect trilogy), battling dragons, giants, and other fantasy medieval beasts while trying to prevent the end of the world (Skyrim), and finding that manipulating the fabric of time comes with a steep price (Life is Strange).

Yet there are very few video games that offer an escape from reality to the extent that the Dead Rising series does.

My first experience with this series was with the first Dead Rising for the WII system.  While that version is “watered down” and doesn’t have the same amount of content as its Xbox 360 counterpart, it is still a very enjoyable game. The basic scenario is that photojournalist Frank West gets a tip that strange events taking place in a small Colorado town called Willamette.  He has a friend transport him inside the town by helicopter to avoid the military barricades on the ground.  When some army copters show up to chase him and his pilot out, Frank jumps onto the roof of Willamette’s shopping mall rather than lose the chance for a possible award-winning story.

Upon making it down to one of the main entrances for the mall, Frank discovers a group of survivors building a barricade to keep a horde of zombies from getting in. This plan quickly fails when one batty old woman spots her beloved poodle outside and opens the doors in an attempt to rescue her pet.  How she managed this with the other survivors failing to stop her is anyone’s guess.  Frank is one of the few people to escape the zombie swarm and make it to the mall’s security office before the door is welded shut by a surviving guard.

jeanettedeadwood-2016-11nov-photo

My favorite ensemble for Frank in
Dead Rising 2: Off the Record

The remainder of the game entails Frank using an air duct to get back out into the mall to rescue stray survivors, battle zombies and the occasional psychopath (more on that later), and uncover the truth of what started the epidemic, or strange events, plaguing Willamette. And that’s where the real fun begins.

The primary thing that sets Dead Rising apart from other zombie apocalypse games is that the game’s emphasis is on making the overall experience more comedic than horrific.  Aside from the clothing to change into and food needed to replenish health, any object that can be picked up by Frank can be used as a weapon, however unconventional.  This includes — but is not limited to – guns, wooden benches, sledgehammers, trash cans, cash registers, mannequins, hangers, and a stack of CDs.

Another element that adds to the overall fun factor is that Frank can swap his own clothes for one of the many outfits available throughout the mall. The player even has the option to have him wear a woman’s dress or a banana hammock while running around killing zombies.

The third staple of the game and of the series in general, is that the player must also face off against certain people labeled psychopaths. For the most part, this means either people who are using the outbreak as an excuse to engage in criminal activity or ordinary civilians who don’t cope well with the end of the world as they know it.  Most of them also add to the humor element present in the game.  My personal favorite is the supermarket manager encountered early on.

While Frank escapes Willamette in the best possible ending out of multiple conclusions, the military fails to keep the epidemic from spilling out into the world. And that’s where the setup for the second game comes in. Dead Rising 2 takes place in the fictitious Fortune City, an area consisting largely of casinos and shopping centers.  Fortune City also capitalizes on the epidemic by making zombie killing a spectator sport in a gladiator-type arena.  A new outbreak occurs when someone deliberately sets loose the zombies to be used in the fights from confinement.

The most interesting thing about Dead Rising 2 is that there are two separate versions of it, each existing as its own game.  This one introduces a down-on-his-luck motocross rider named Chuck Greene as the hero.  The other, a spinoff subtitled Off the Record, sees the return of Frank as the lead protagonist.  There are so many differences between the two that each tells a story unique to Chuck or Frank.  One thing that remains the same is that each protagonist strives to expose the mastermind behind the outbreak and bring him or her to justice.

Dead Rising 2 retains all the elements that made its predecessor so humorous, but also embellishes on them. There are three times as many objects to use as a weapon than those present in the first game. And two objects can now be combined to create a more carnage-inducing, often wacky means of killing zombies, with the exception of the beer hat.

In my opinion, the psychopaths encountered in the second game are even more comical than those in the original. My personal favorite is Carl Schiff, the postal worker who is determined to deliver the mail even in light of the outbreak.  His dialogue is dependent on if one is playing as Chuck or Frank, but both encounters are equally entertaining.

Dead Rising 3 brings the overall story full circle by tying up loose ends from the first and second games. The protagonist this time is a young mechanic named Nick Ramos who finds himself at the center of yet another outbreak.  Nick discovers that he may hold the key to eradicating the zombie epidemic once and for all.

Like Frank and Chuck before him, Nick can change into any outfit present in the game. While Dead Rising 3 ups the fun factor by eliminating the need to create combo weapons at workbenches and introducing combo vehicles, it lacks humor in one area.  I know I’m not alone based on reviews I’ve read find Dead Rising 3 psychopaths more off-putting than entertaining.  There are fewer of them in this game, and most are made to represent one of the seven deadly sins.  Suffice to say, the one for gluttony is particularly nasty.

The other downside, as with the first two games, is that the player is racing the clock. To get the best possible ending, the mystery behind the outbreak must be solved within a set amount of time.  As much as I love the series, the games don’t allow for much wandering to your heart’s content without getting a “game over.”  And with the ending of the third game having such finality about it, this seemed to be it for the franchise.

I recently heard news of a fourth game due out in December 2016, and I couldn’t be more excited. From what I’ve read, Dead Rising 4 will breathe new life into the series, no pun intended.  Frank is set to return as the main character, and the franchise is literally going back to its roots.  The action will take place in a rebuilt shopping mall in Willamette, introduce a new breed of zombies unrelated to the ones featured in the original trilogy, and will for once ditch the timer.  The notion of having all the time in the world to explore the environment while solving the mystery at the core of the story has me anxious to begin playing this game.

As long as it retains or surpasses the hilariousness that the franchise is most famous for, all the better.

Oct 27

The Worst Valentine’s Day

It was Valentine’s Day 2013. Couples all over the country were celebrating the romantic holiday with each other. Words of love, flowers, chocolate, and other more intimate gifts were being given and accepted by lovers, spouses, and friends. In Michigan, Mother Nature had decided to bestow the gift of snowfall and the temperature was low enough to cause an icy concern for anyone who needed to brave navigating the roads. My brother and I were two such people.

I had been awake for close to 72 hours due to stress, anxiety, and sadness. We had each been stationed overseas at the time, my brother at an Air Force base in Italy and myself at a Marine Base on Okinawa, and it had taken us each roughly 24 hours to make it back to Michigan.

I can’t speak for Justin, but for me, it involved two layovers, a lot of waiting, and a brief scare with missing luggage. Fortunately, I didn’t have to deal with screaming, unruly children but there was one little girl who seemed to notice that I was traveling upset. She sat across the aisle from me and we spent most of the flight taking pictures of each other and playing games on my cellphone. It was very nice, if brief, distraction.

I had finally stopped crying, and after wiping away the tears and fixing my face, I was trying to get some much-needed sleep while my brother drove us the three hours up north to a very small community called Houghton Lake.

Houghton Lake is a small town in Northern Michigan with a population of roughly 4,000 people. It’s mostly forest with many places to hunt, fish, and take part in all kinds of outdoor activities. Houghton Lake is home to one of the state’s largest winter festivals, Tip Up Town USA (a town made completely out of ice and built on top of the lake). We would not be partaking in any of these activities.

We had a long few days ahead of us. Instead of spending a fun winter with friends and family we would soon have to deal with bank employees, landlords, and storage units. For now, however, we were on our way to the towns’ funeral home. We would suffer through a small accident with another driver (from which I now sport several small but very noticeable scars on my right foot and ankle) and spend several hours at the local police station clearing it up before we would finally make it to our destination.

Justin had been driving so that I could try to get some sleep. We were just arriving and while trying to make a turn onto the main street that would take us through town we hit a hidden patch of black ice and slid into a vehicle waiting to make a turn off of that same street. We dented his drivers side door enough that it wouldn’t open, but other than that the other driver was fine. When our car collided with his I had been laying down as much as a car will let you. And the impact had jerked me forward like a crash test dummy. I had been wearing my seatbelt, but my right foot had jerked and caught on something sharp underneath the dashboard which caused several cuts that bled just enough to make taking off socks difficult later on. Luckily February in Northern Michigan is insanely cold and I didn’t feel any pain until much later.

The funeral home was small. Our Aunt (who had picked us up from the police station while our car was towed to a shop) knew the funeral director from her church. It was the only funeral director in town and another family was scheduled to come in later that day. The first thing we did was sit down with the funeral home director and decided on whether or not we preferred burial or cremation. As much as either of us would have wanted a proper burial we didn’t have the money. Cremation it was. We picked out styles for a memorial service guest book, thank you cards, etc. and we decided on a poem that would be on the “program” for the service. We took care of all the small details first because we weren’t ready to do what we really needed to. We needed to see him.

At the time this was happening I was being treated in the military for Anxiety and Depression. I had my medication and my workbooks full of techniques from my doctors on how to manage and cope with my panic attacks and depressive episodes. None of it worked. None of it even helped. In that moment, that place, there was no coping.

I had heard that when you see a dead person they look like they are sleeping. Like they will get up at any moment and continue on with their lives. That wasn’t true at all. He didn’t look like he was sleeping. He didn’t look like he had ever been alive in the first place. What he looked like was one of those wax mannequins you see in museums. He didn’t look real.

My brother handled it much better than I did. He was calm and composed while I was a sobbing mess in front of everyone. I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there, but at the same time, I couldn’t bear to leave.

Three days after each receiving a message from the Red Cross we ended what had become the worst Valentine’s Day of our lives saying our final goodbyes to our Dad.

He had been born and raised in the area and when the day of his memorial service came it seemed like everyone in town had shown up. I had forgotten just how many people he had known in his life. Some of them were old friends from high school. Most of them were friends and co-workers from his job in construction. My dad had built many of the houses in the Houghton Lake area.

The church was full and by the time the service was over and we had shaken everyone’s hands twice over I felt like I could sleep for a week and still be tired. It had been the worst Valentine’s Day ever which had lead into the worst February ever and was only the beginning of what would become the worst year ever. Three years later it still hurts, though it hurts a little less every day.

Oct 24

Ancestors are Family, Too

 2016-10-pic

 “It’s not fair!” Eileen shouted.

 “Don’t raise your voice to me, young lady,” her mother, Eleanor, responded. “I don’t care if all your friends are planning to stay out late on Halloween. You still have to be home by nine o’clock. That’s already an extra hour on a school night.”

 “But I’ll be the only witch-in-training who’s not able to stay out late. No one is going to want to interrupt their Halloween fun to bring me home early.”

 “The key point is you are in training,” Eleanor emphasized, “and you’re more likely to get into trouble with everyone thinking they can experiment with spells late into the night. Halloween is four days away. That gives you plenty of time to find someone that will bring you home. If you don’t find anyone, then I’ll pick you up. Now I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

 Eileen gave a huff in useless defiance and headed to her room. “I’m old enough to stay out late,” she thought. “After all, I just turned fifteen.” As the night wore on, she hatched a plan to prove she could take care of herself. She would execute a spell to raise the spirits of her ancestors and send them to scare her mother. “When she sees how good my abilities are, Mom will have no choice but to agree and let me stay out late.”

 The next day, just after dusk, Eileen stood in the middle of the graveyard laying out items she would need to cast a spell. “I’ll show her I’m old enough to stay out as late as I want to,” she thought to herself, as she remembered the argument with her mother.

 A cool breeze made Eileen shiver as she finished arranging things on the grass. The small fire she started on an iron plate did not give off enough light by which to read the spell, so she turned on a flashlight. Eileen had a moment of doubt as she picked up the book of spells. After taking a deep breath, she opened the book and started the incantation. After saying each stanza, she dropped a different talisman into the fire.

Worms devour without a sound,

that which is buried beneath the ground.

Spirits dwelling in peaceful slumber,

come together in frightful number.

As demons roar and angels quake,

rise my ancestors, awake!

 Smoke from the fire began swirling around and around, doubling in volume with each revolution, and rising in the air until it stood a good twenty feet above Eileen’s head. Fear began to make her nauseous, but the power of what she released kept her transfixed, watching the spectacle. Crackling sounds came from the cloud of smoke then lights flashed from within. The cloud began to swell then contract, then swelled one more time, until an explosive sound shook the headstones throughout the graveyard.

 Eileen screamed, dropped to the ground and covered her head. After a few moments, she realized there was no sound except for her heavy breathing, in and out. She jumped when a woman’s voice with a cockney accent invaded the silence. “Hallo. Who are you?”

 Cautiously rising and looking up, Eileen saw a gauzy apparition floating above her head. The spirit was an old woman dressed in Victorian clothes.

 “I . . . I’m Eileen. Who . . . who are you?”

 “My name’s Morna.”

 Recognition came to Eileen. “You’re my great-great-great Aunt Morna. I recognize you from the painting in our house.”

 “You’re my niece, you say. Well tell me why in the devil you woke me up.” The ghost flew down and put her face a few inches in front of Eileen.

 Jumping back, Eileen replied, “I wasn’t trying to raise just you. I meant to raise all my ancestors buried here.”

 “Well then, you must have done something wrong now haven’t you?” Aunt Morna put her hands on her hips and shook her head accusingly.

 “I . . . I didn’t have quite all the right objects for the spell so I made some substitutions.”

 “Substitutions? Blimey! It’s a stroke of luck you didn’t unleash the hounds of hell now, isn’t it?”

 Feeling embarrassed, Eileen turned her head away. Her big plan to show her mother she could handle herself was falling apart due to this miserable failure of a spell. Then she thought, “Maybe I don’t need a whole flock of ancestors.” Perhaps she could salvage the plan by getting Aunt Morna to scare her mom.

 Steeling herself up, Eileen turned back to the ghost and said, “Aunt Morna, I command you to fly to my house and give my mother a good fright.”

 Morna responded with a raucous, cackling laugh. “Command me, she says. Give her mother a good fright, she says.” Again with the cackling laugh. “Why should I do a daft thing like that?”

 “Um. Well. You see, my mother won’t let me stay out past nine o’clock on Halloween,” Eileen blurted. “And, um, you know, I wanted to show her I’m old enough to do what I want.”

 “Stay out past nine o’clock? On Halloween? I never heard such rubbish. Not a minute past five o’clock for my daughters on Halloween or any other night. And mind you, if boys are around there had better be a chaperone.”

 “A chaperone?” Eileen felt horrified at the thought of having to have an adult around whenever she was with a boy.

 “Now you hear me girl, you gather this stuff up and go on home to your mother. Make sure you mind her, and stop this nonsense about raising your ancestors, or casting any other spell by yourself till your training is done. Do you hear me?” Morna raised herself up high and pointed a crooked finger at Eileen.

 With her earlier sense of rebellion fading, Eileen responded “Yes ma’am.”

 “Good.” With that, Morna started twirling till she was nothing but a tornado of smoke. Lights grew bright in the middle, and the vortex snapped into the ground leaving not a trace behind.

 Eileen quickly gathered up her things and went straight home. She entered the house through the living room door and found her mother sitting on the sofa reading a book. Eileen thought about trying one more time to change her mother’s mind about the Halloween curfew, but she thought she saw a scowl come across the face of her Aunt Morna in the painting above the fireplace. So instead, she kissed her mother on the cheek and headed off to bed. “Goodnight Eileen,” said Eleanor as her daughter left the room. After finishing the chapter of her book, Eleanor rose to get ready for bed. Before she turned off the light, she whispered “Goodnight, Aunt Morna.”

Oct 21

OMG

Have you ever had “Writer’s Block”? I have it all the time and I hate it! I’m sitting in front of the computer getting ready to write. My fingers hover over the keys.

 

Ready! Set! Go!

 

Ugh?

 

What am I going to write about? What can I say that anyone, yes anyone, would want to read?

 

I gained inspiration the last time I went to the Deadwood Writers’ Group. My friend Barbara brought this picture:img_0155

 

“OMG! Where is that kid when I need him? The last time I had a problem with my computer, I phoned Apple. After waiting 18 minutes on hold, someone picked up.

 

“Let me connect you to the person who handles that,” he said.

 

I put the phone on speaker and started answering my email. 20 minutes later and still no one had picked up. I checked my phone. It was still on speaker.

 

I went back to answering my email. A few more minutes passed. I noticed something. What was it?

 

OMG! Silence.

 

I’d been disconnected. My phone said I’d been on hold 25 minutes just to be disconnected. No!

 

Where is that kid? He may be young but I bet he knows what to do!!!