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luwaonline · 4 years

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IX. The Dumb City: You’ll Miss Me When I’m Gone

"They are going to remember the day they came here to feel this space and nature, the emotions they had.” ― Yosuke Hayana

Twelve weeks ago, our group was tasked with the brief of re-imagining a smart city that would benefit its dwellers. We challenged the brief, essentially hacking the smart city that centres around efficiency, surveillance and control, to create a ‘dumb’ sentient city built around its inhabitants. Our information foraging, brainstorming, speculating, interviewing, image-making, fabulating, risk-taking, compromising, critiquing and reflection led to the development of You’ll Miss Me When I’m Gone.

In a previous post, I shared my experience of feeling like a sim, whose life is monitored and in some aspects controlled by an invisible, yet powerful force. Inspired by Superflux’s Mitigation of Shock project and design fiction, I drop a sim into our re-imagined world, narrating a speculative scene to present the implications of our design.

Sim, created using Thispersondoesnotexist.com

Sim lives here. Year unknown, weather overcast with a high chance of rain. The city’s political stance is somewhere on the scale between utopia and dystopia – we’ll call it London Modern. Through a natural disaster, world pandemic, or partnership with an obnoxious orange man, the city has changed rapidly, but the Thames remains. A large number of the human population has been eradicated, taking the city back to its 22nd century level of 16 million. Once common flora and fauna like blue flies and roses are extinct. Sim can’t remember what roses smell like, but they remember they existed... didn’t they? A number of companies, including Mori Industries that supported the sentient city initiative and drive for London to become the smartest city in the world, cease to exist.

Miraculously, a government still exists, whether that’s good or bad is debatable. 24/8 news coverage pours out of televisions, hovercar beams, watches, contact lenses and Elppa devices. Despite the life stories of millions of dwellers being told in real-time, news focuses on the best place to buy Ria Xam Sreniart, which Gib Rehtorb contestant crenked who or whether to buy or sell shares in Nozama - essentially pushing the dominant agenda. City dwellers grow fatigued of this world, as do news reporters and journalists, manifesting in a craving for the feelings and memories of yesteryear. Sim waits in line at Skcubrats and overhears another sighing at the menial size of their cheese sandwich exclaiming “I fought in the war for this! God, things were better in my day”. Were things better when sim was young? It’s hard to remember. Another sim leaves the shop, intrigued Sim follows. Eventually, another sim comes to a standstill. Sim and Another Sim are at the Thames shoreline by London Modern East. Another Sim stares at the ground, the waves lapping onto their well-worn boots. Another Sim loosens their laces, pulls out a metal scoop and digs. Sim watches on until Another Sim is recognised. Another Sim runs away leaving Sim puzzled. The next day, and the next day and the next day and th...

The government grows wary of city dweller moral. In response, it develops a department to manage tensions - the Ministry of Memory (MoM). MoM reissue mudlark permits and hire their descendants (known to have the finder gene) to search the river for past remnants. On discovery, finders are to listen to then log the memory via a form to return to MoM. A MoM representative processes the form making the memory available to all. Using money taken from the previous year’s austerity measures, MoM manages to locate and resurrect 8 of 32 Mori Industries kiosks.

Sim has lost count of how many days they’ve been to Modern East shoreline, but this time Another Sim is absent. Instead, the digging spot is replaced by a small square building with no door. Sim investigates. A box with a small screen and a keyboard rest on a shoddy table in the corner. They dare to type R - O - S - E. The room fills with a smell they haven’t experienced for a long time and audio begins to play.

Sim closes their eyes, a small tear sliding from their left eye. This isn’t happiness or sadness, just a release. A space to simultaneously think about their reality, the past and the present. They remembered their mother telling them, they smelled beautiful but now they know for sure. The awful smell of a rose, floral, pungent clove, the feeling of the memory envelopes them. This is something they’ll remember for the rest of their life.

(751 words)

#ministry of memory #dumb city #sweet memories #memory #embrace the every day #mundane mondays #humdrum #hidden narratives #future cities #digging deeper #protect the past #survive and thrive #you'll miss me when i'm gone #save the future #living sim #design fiction #sentient city #smart city #nostalgia

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individuationfic · 5 years

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Seeking to Seize Chapter 17

AO3

‘Is this really the time to be worrying about a school festival?’

Yosuke has the nerve to look offended. ‘The team needs the morale, Partner! As long as we keep checking the Midnight Channel, what’s the harm?’ They’re in Yu’s uncle’s living room doing homework, and even though Nanako is taking her bath upstairs and his uncle is at work, Yosuke keeps using sign language. It makes Yu feel warm. ‘You could use a distraction, too. I can tell how stressed you’ve been lately.’

Yu sighs, because Yosuke’s right. All this waiting makes him antsy. He almost wishes the killer would make a move so they could get a lead. But that’s probably a bad thing to hope for, so he doesn’t bring it up. Instead, he signs, ‘Is that why you signed the girls up for the pageant?’

‘The only other two people signed up were Hanako and Kashiwagi-sensei.’

Yu makes a face that makes Yosuke laugh. ‘Are teacher even allowed to do that?’

Yosuke shrugs. ‘There’s no rule against it. I think Kashiwagi-sensei is the only one who’s ever tried.’

‘How does she even still have a job?’ Yu asks. ‘If she were a male teacher, she would’ve been fired a long time ago.’

‘King Moron didn’t exactly give the school a lot of time to find a replacement. Besides,’ Yosuke adds, ‘we just have to deal with her for a few more months. She won’t be teaching third years next year, so we’re safe there.’

Yu’s heart almost stops. ‘Yosuke,’ he signs, fingers heavy, ‘I won’t be here for our third year. I’m going back to Tokyo.’

Yosuke’s face falls. “Oh, yeah,” he says aloud.

Lighthearted conversation effectively ruined, they return to their homework.

The group date café is just as awkward as Chie thought it would be. She doesn’t even get to sit across from Yukiko because the class rep is here, so she has to look at Kanji instead. At least Kanji’s trying, she thinks, suppressing the urge to glare at the class rep.

Then Yukiko answers a question with, “My favorite hobby is defeating Shadows,” and Chie’s stomach drops. Yosuke rushes to cover it up and Chie, to change the subject, says the girls will ask the next question. Yukiko asks, “What kind of girls do you like?”

Yu, who has been a little downtrodden, looks Yosuke in the eyes and signs, ‘Yosuke.’

Yosuke goes red and averts his eyes.

‘You didn’t seem too surprised about the crossdress pageant,’ Yukiko signs to Yu as they walk to the home ec. room to ghim changed. They’ve already done his make-up (not that he needed much—he’s pretty for a boy) and borrowed a silver wig from the drama club room. All that’s left is finding the perfect outfit.

Yu signs, ‘I figured some revenge was coming. Yosuke really railroaded you guys, and Kanji and I didn’t try to stop it.’

‘What were you thinking in terms of costume?’ Yukiko asks as she pushes the door to the home ec. room open.

Their eyes fall on it at the same time and they know.

Yosuke feels exposed in a way he really doesn’t like. “How do girls wear these?” he hisses at Chie, tugging at the bottom of the pink skirt he’s been forced into. “One wayward breeze and everyone will be able to see my nads!” He bends at the knees to scratch at his shins. “And these socks are itchy as hell!”

Chie gives him a quick smack on the arm. “Cut that out! You’ll flash everyone!”

“Well, you should’ve given me a longer skirt!”

“Stop complaining! I have to wear a bathing suit in front of the entire school thanks to you!”

“You’re scaring the emcee,” Rise says, a laughing tone in her voice, and Yosuke and Chie turn around and see her walking up the short set of stairs leading from the floor to the stage, leading Kanji who is, for some reason, dressed like Marilyn Monroe. His knees are slightly bent and he keeps swinging his hips to watch the white skirt of his dress swirl around him. Yosuke can barely keep himself from laughing.

Chie cranes her neck to look around them. “Where’re Yu and Yukiko?”

Rise shrugs. Kanji says, “Amagi-senpai says it’s gonna be a surprise,” in his usual deep voice, which is extremely inappropriate for his current appearance.

Rise’s phone buzzes, and she laughs when she reads the text. “Teddie is giving Naoto-san some trouble,” she says. “He wants winged eyeliner and they don’t know how to do it.” She flips her phone closed and tilts her head up to look at Kanji. “Do you mind if I run and help? I’ll be sure to vote for you even if I’m not back before the whole thing starts.”

Between the layers of makeup and the dimly-lit backstage it’s hard to tell, but Yosuke things Kanji is blushing. “Go help Naoto-san,” he says. “No one should stand alone against Teddie.”

Rise laughs again and scurries away. Chie glances at her own phone and says, “I better go, too. I gotta save a place for Yukiko when she finally shows up.” She levels a glare at Yosuke. “Don’t flash anyone!”

The emcee doesn’t wait much longer before he starts the pageant, even though Yu and Teddie still haven’t arrived. From his place off stage, Yosuke hears him ask “Kanji-chan,” “What would you say is your best feature?”

“My eyes,” Kanji replies, and the crowd laughs.

“An eloquent heiress of thee noble Junes,” the emcee says, “she’s pure disappointment from the moment she opens her mouth!” Ouch. Rude. “Presenting Yosuke-chan of the second year class two!”

Feeling more awkward than he’s ever felt in his life, Yosuke walks to stand next to Kanji and, meek, says, “Hi.”

The crowd gets noisy again, and Yosuke wants so badly to retreat. Calm yourself, Jiraya says in his mind. This moment will not define you unless you let it. Relax. Let yourself have some fun with this.

He takes a deep breath and nods, mostly to himself. When the emcee asks if he normally dresses like this, he giggles and says, “It’s not my usual style. The skirt is a little too short for my taste.” And this time, when the crowd laughs, Yosuke somehow knows they’re not laughing to be mean—they’re laughing because they think he’s funny.

“We’re laughingstocks up here!” Kanji hisses in his ear over the din.

“No,” says Yosuke, “we’re the only ones with enough balls to go through with this.”

The emcee suddenly brightens. “She has the mildly bitter tang of the city,” he says, “and her lack of a voice has only made her more endearing! Presenting our transfer student who’s been breaking hearts in the second year class two, Yu-chan!”

It’s instinct that drives Yosuke to turn his head, so seek Yu out, and his heart drops when his partner comes into view.

Because Yu looks goddamn beautiful.

It’s obvious he and Yukiko took this more seriously than the others. He’s wearing a light colored kimono detailed with a likeness of Mt. Fuji, and his silver wig has been styled and pinned into place with an ornate hair ornament. He carries himself with a dignity Yosuke didn’t think was possible when crossdressing. How is he so pretty? he asks himself.

Jiraya says, You should tell him how you feel before someone else takes him away from you.

Him being gay doesn’t mean he’ll like me! Yosuke retorts. You’re the one who told me that!

If you think this is the same kind of situation, you are far more oblivious than I thought.

You’re supposed to be on my side here!

I am. You just don’t see it yet.

Then Teddie blazes onto the scene dressed up like Alice in Wonderland, and Yosuke is jarred from his thoughts for the time being.

No one’s particularly surprised when Rise wins the real pageant. She knows the boys and Naoto-san tried to spread their votes evenly between her, Chie-senpai, and Yukiko-senpai, but the rest of the school didn’t care. And, sure, maybe she used some of her Risette charm, but she’s a competitive girl. So sue her.

She and the other girls put their school uniforms back on and they meet up with the rest of the team. Rise grabs one of Kanji’s arms and one of Naoto-san’s, linking them together in a chain. “The festival’s almost over. What should we do now?”

Before anyone can answer her, Yu-senpai’s uncle drops Nanako-chan off with them. She’s delighted; she loves Nanako-chan. Everyone on the team does. It’d be hard not to love such a cute, innocent little girl. Nanako-chan hangs onto Yu-senpai’s pant let as they discuss what to do next, and when Yukiko-senpai offers the inn and hotsprings to them, she smiles hard and wide enough to shame the sun.

Kanji-kun swings Nanako-chan up on his shoulders as they walk to the bus stop, with Naoto-san walking on one side and Rise on the other. “Do you want to take a bath with the girls or with the boys?” Rise asks Nanako-chan.

Nanako-chan screws up her face to think and says, “The girls. Onii-chan already takes a bath with me sometimes if I’m really sad, so I wanna try taking a bath with girls for a change!”

A thought suddenly occurs to Rise and she leans forward to look at Naoto-san. “Who do you feel comfortable bathing with?”

Naoto-san opens their mouth to reply, but Nanako-chan interrupts. “Naoto-niichan should take a bath with the other boys!”

Kanji-kun looks ready to say something when Naoto-san speaks instead. “Nanako-chan,” they say, “I look like a girl, and I dress like a boy, but I don’t feel like either. Since the Amagi Inn only has girl bath times and boy bath times, Rise-san wants to know when I would like to take my bath.”

Nanako-chan seems confused. “If you’re not a boy, I can’t call you Naoto-niichan, and if you’re not a girl, I can’t call you Naoto-neechan. What can I call you, then?”

And Rise can’t help but laugh, because of course that’s what Nanako-chan would be worried about.

There’s something a little strange about Onii-chan’s friends, Nanako thinks.

They’re all very nice! They treat her well, not like a nuisance like her dad’s work friends do sometimes. But none of them really look like they should be friends. Nanako has never seen a TV show where a delinquent becomes friends with an idol, or where the son of a big store like Junes becomes friends with a detective. But her teachers always say not to judge based on looks, so maybe this is actually normal.

Then she gets in the bath with some of them.

It’s the girls’ turn first, so Nanako lets Onii-chan help her into her yukata when they get to the big room everyone is sharing. He smiles at her like he’s saying “Have fun!” and she’s whisked off by the girls and Naoto-san. (Nanako doesn’t like calling them “Naoto-san.” It makes them sound old, like someone her dad would go drinking with. She has to find something else to call them.)

After they wash, Yukiko-neechan helps her put her hair up so it doesn’t get in the hot water. “You can wear your towel in the water,” she says as she tucks one corner of Nanako’s fluffy white towel against her skin to keep it secure, “but you don’t have to.” Nanako notices that Yukiko-neechan’s towel is a lot looser than her’s. She probably won’t wear it in the bath.

Rise-neechan doesn’t even bother wrapping her towel around herself. She just holds it against her front to hide her bathing suit parts. Her skin is really pretty, Nanako notices. Pale, no moles or freckles. Is her skin nice because she’s an idol? Or is she an idol because her skin is nice?

Nanako pauses at the edge of the bath, and, after some deliberation (seeing all the other girls doing it), drops her towel.

Rise-neechan, she sees, is the only one with perfect skin.

It’s not as obvious with Naoto-san, because they’re still wearing their towel, but everyone but Rise-neechan has scars. They’re small, for the most part, little silvery lines almost completely faded. If they weren’t all naked, Nanako would have never noticed. Chie-neechan has the biggest; it’s in the middle of her chest, where a bathing suit that wasn’t a bikini would cover it, and it looks kind of like a burn mark.

No one talks about the scars. They talk about how soft Naoto-san’s skin is, or exams, or the school festival, but no one mentions the scars.

Anything but the scars.

So, yeah, Onii-chan’s friends are a little strange, because the girls and Naoto-san are all so pretty and pretty people shouldn’t have scars.

#individuation #ao3fic #persona series #persona 4

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doktorpeace · 7 years

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in Persona 5 for me it’s July 11th, meaning I’m exactly 3 months into the game. I’m going to assume I’m getting to about the third way point, both previous games lasted 9-10 months and I’ll assume this one will last until January on the end game Calendar. Here’s my thoughts so far, spoilers inside:

Well I’ve spent a clean 44 hours on the game already so there’s that. I haven’t even been fucking around a lot, I completed Madarame’s Palace in just the 3 required visits and I completely cleaned out Kaneshiro’s Palace in just one discounting Makoto’s joining visit and the re-visit to defeat the boss. I’m really digging the story so far, it feels well paced and everything’s progressing at a reasonable, steady rate but the tension keeps building. It also REALLY breaks tradition, but in ways I’m finding refreshing. I’ve already formed my Judgement Confidant in spite of being only a third(ish?) of the way into the game, and I’ve formed a Confidant relationship with someone I know WILL be a party member even when he’s not a party member yet. Though I don’t trust Akechi as far as I could throw him. I’ll have to play farther into the story to write a real feeling piece about it, I’ll probably do that once I complete the game. Igor’s got me scared though, and I really loved and trusted Igor wholly in the last two games. My social stats are progressing well, I’m at rank 4 on Knowledge, 3 on Guts (promoting to 4 soon I think), 3 on Charm, 2 on Kindness, and 2 on Proficiency (also promoting soon). I knew Knowledge and Guts would be the most important ones going in, they always are so I’ve given them a special priority. So far I love this game, it’s really stellar and it’ll be my game of the year for certain. Everything works really well, my sole complaint at this point is that one time I had a shadow not join me after giving two good answers to its questions during a negotiation and I wasn’t told why not, but whatever it’s fine. The dungeons are getting steadily tougher and I really like the variety in design approaches they take. Kaneshiro’s was incredibly long but could be done all at once if you had enough items and good enough pacing, Madarame’s required more involvement and opting into scripted events since you had to get stuff done in the real world as well, and given it was a tutorial dungeon Kamoshida’s was also good. Honestly the level design in the Palaces has all been really good and I’ve liked each more than the last by quite a bit. I even got unlucky with some Onis getting crits and hitting my whole party with Rampage near the beginning of my run through Kaneshiro’s Palace and I still made it through so I was pretty happy with that. The main plot and characters are very much enjoying that the game, while fairly lighthearted so far, takes itself seriously and handles its themes maturely. They don’t make jokes about serious things and they let things have the weight that they should. The Party Member’s social links going on lockdown if you advance them too fast to wait for another moment in the plot is also a great idea since it means they can build in some of the character’s development from the plot into the social link and vice versa. This, combined with how the social links each focus on them growing as a person from the issue that caused them to be socially outcast and ostracized in the first place gives it a more down to earth feel. The party members have noticeable growths of character and mindset in both components of the game’s writing side by side, and it’s good to see them finally address this issue the series had been having. Rather than being like Persona 4 and making each of them a HUGE LIFE CHANGING EVENT THAT HAS A MASSIVE EFFECT ON THEIR PERSONALITY but then that having no bearing on the plot so the whiplash of maturity is really immersion breaking, this game’s focus on a more personal push towards growth and change. Be it making amends for past mistakes like Ryuji, finding a new source of strength with Ann, or pushing forward and grasping his future in spite of his situation like Yusuke, they all have to deal directly with what caused them to become an outcast in the first place, and feel like strong bits of development that don’t completely change them as people. I personally like and relate to Makoto’s being about being more honest with oneself and living for you, and not for the expectations others have for you. This sense of giving situations the gravitas and seriousness they require extends to side social links as well, of which I’ve liked all the ones I’ve found. One that sticks out to me is Kawakami’s social link. She is your teacher and you happen to hire her through a maid service because Ryuji and Mishima are fucking dumbasses who want to see a hot maid do chores for them and the situation you find yourselves in is naturally a little sexually charged, something which the game does not ignore or distract from. It owns up to the awkwardness of the situation it sets up. As the social link progresses (without Ryuji and Mishima there) it even gives the player the option to try and hit on her in a sexual manner, but she turns you down on the grounds that A) You’re her student B) the age gap is gross and C) specifically sites it would make her no better than Kamoshida, who was your first target as the Phantom Thieves in no small part because he sexually harassed and in one case raped a student. The fact that the game doesn’t just walk the walk of saying ‘oh yeah sexually assaulting minors is bad’ which is obvious to anyone of decent moral standing, but further drives the point home and WON’T make an exception for you because you’re the player is very good and not something many games are willing to do. The variety of characters you encounter during social links is also nice, from a washed up politician genuinely trying to improve the world after learning from his mistakes, to the owner of a model weapon shop doing illicit business, to just the guy who runs the Phantom Thieves’ Forum they’ve all got a charm to them and feel well written. One that worried me initially was one where you meet a news reporter in a bar and the bar happens to be run by a drag queen. I was worried cause I had heard this content was transphobic, but seemingly that was a misunderstanding from someone playing the japanese version with less than a perfect understanding of the language. Lala Escargot as she goes by, is voiced by a man in both versions and is referred to with ‘-chan’ and female pronouns, however this is proper etiquette for drag queens while playing their stage persona. Further, Lala Escargot is shown to be of good moral standing and isn’t made out to be a joke, two things I was glad to see happen. This game’s schedule also feels good. Like I said, I’m about a third of the way in and I feel like I’ve been able to make comfortable growth with both social stats and social links, and I was worried about that because the game really railroads you a lot in the first two plot arcs, but it’s working out comfortably. Combat feels really good, while spell animations feel a tiny bit less flashy than previous games I’ve still only seen a handful of them, and the combat animations are all still really good. The balance is great, I feel challenged but not overwhelmed, but it is noticeably getting a lot harder with each main palace. Your Teammate’s in combat abilities they gain from social links are definitely nerfed compared to P4 or P3 Portable, but honestly that’s welcome in my opinion. In the previous games they were flat out overpowered and could carry you through the game. As is they feel like nice bonuses that happen just often enough you don’t forget they’re there, but not so often that they take away any feeling of depth or strategy, particularly in P4 where they were extremely ‘Win More’ mechanics. Particularly the ‘Save the main character from death once per battle’ is reduced to a chance, but can happen more than once per battle if you’re lucky, and requires the relationship be at rank 9 instead of rank 5. A hefty but welcomed nerf that doesn’t eliminate any feeling of danger. Oh also! The fact that your non-party member Confidants confer permanent benefits, some in combat, some out of combat is a GREAT incentive to level them up. I know that I’m focusing on Kawakami’s so hard because it frees up so many phases in the game, not having to waste my own time brewing coffee or doing laundry is a huge boon, plus 1 point in knowledge from lecture (assuming I get the answer right) can be exchanged for two lockpicks and two points in proficiency, or a book read and its bonuses which is a great bonus effect. Eventually she even gives you the ability to go out at night after going dungeon crawling which in and of itself is an ENORMOUS benefit. Finally, as for the party members it’s really cool the variety this party has and their variety of motivations. They’re a very fun group whose personalities work together dynamically an in a fun way, I know I still have 3 party members left to get, so we’ll see how they affect things. I’m just loving how much we get to see them all interact, between how many plot events there are and that there’s at least one text chatlog a day with everyone talking together, it gives you a ton of dialogue with them and time to see their party dynamic. Ryuji’s a good boy. I like him a lot, he reminds me a lot of myself in terms of behavior. His social link has been a little slow, but cute, and his date sequences when you aren’t actively going up ranks are also cool. One big improvement he has over Yosuke in particular is that after being hit on by a couple of gay guys he just expresses distaste for the situation and leaves it at that. He was uncomfortable with it, but he doesn’t hark on it and veer off into being a homophobic shitbag like Yosuke. But Atlas, blease let him be gay in the expansion I know you’re going to make. Let me date the vulgar boy he’s such a cute good boy. Really though his growth as a person is already tangible, he’s gone from feeling like a total outsider with nothing to work for and nothing to lose to being a fairly responsible guy who owns up to his mistakes. He’s still not smart but he’s grown enough that he’s the party member to remind the others to keep it calm and lay low after a major operation, which is a really cool role for him to play. Ann is fucking great, her force of personality and strength as a character is immediate right from the start. I was worried for her, but she’s an explosive character, a lot of facets to her personality and situation are revealed to you quickly and then elaborated on over the course of her social link and when you hang out with her or go on sunday dates together. She’s obviously a kind, strong individual but she questions her own genuinity and strength as a person, and is exploring different ways to broaden her horizons and improve. I was a little worried she’d be a generic spitfire angry girl, but really she’s only super pissed off at injustice and sexual harassment. A big part of her character comes from her staunch hatred and opposition ‘of men who treat women as sexual outlets’ (literally word for word something she says) and it’s a really strong, cool way for her to be. I’m very grateful for the game’s writing for having such a staunch, unmoving stance in opposition of treating women like objects especially in a series like Persona where fans have an extremely gross tendency to do just that. It’s a good lesson and message to put out there. In other cases she’s actually really level headed and willing to admit when she was wrong or when someone’s outplayed her. I like Ann a lot. Yusuke’s a really deep and interesting character who I sadly keep blowing off for Makoto and Ryuji, but I’ll hang out with him more soon. His circumstances are really fucking difficult, first of all he’s an orphan, which sucks. Secondly his adoptive father is abusive, which really sucks. Third off he’s autistic. Seriously, think on his dialogue and tell me I’m wrong. We directly get the line ‘not many people will deal with my eccentricities’ which is as close as Japanese media ever gets to saying ‘yes I’m autistic.’ His dialogue often hints to how people ostracize him for being autistic even though he’s a great guy and I’m sure it’ll come up in his social link in the future. I’m glad the game paints it as a negative thing for society to treat him bad and not that it’s bad he’s autistic, it’d be very easy to slip into that but they haven’t fucked up yet. And finally, he’s fuckin gay dude. Don’t fight me on this one, I know a gay when I see one. He specifically dodges the idea of being attracted to Ann ‘as a member of the opposite sex’ and the way he says it isn’t ‘oh I’m interesting in girls, just not Ann’ it’s much more ‘I’m not interested in girl, and thus not interested in Ann.’ He’s got a lot going against him, but unlike with Kanji nobody acts like it’s weird he isn’t attracted to Ann (though Ryuji will rib the player for saying the same thing) and everybody’s doing their best to be supportive of him. I’m excited to see more of his character and see how he overcomes the ways society is stacked against him. You can even take him on dates and he comments that it looks like you’re lovers. I hope he gets a nice boyfriend. (also atlus please make him a romance option in the expansion as well.) Finally Makoto is the character I’ve most been suspicious of how she fits in. She’s an honor student, lives in a nice house, has a sister in a high paying job, was born into a good family, what’s bad about her life? Well, she’s outcast from the average student because she’s ‘just a robot’ and she has these obscene expectations thrust upon her, yet people still call her useless. She has to constantly wear a face and be who people expect her to be and not who she really is. It’s a more subtle kind of outcasting and she certainly doesn’t face the negatives the other members do like being an orphan or having their best friend hospitalized after a suicide attempt, but she’s got her own set of issues which are playing out alongside these things. The game also doesn’t frame her situation as equally bad, it’s just a very stressful, difficult situation for her and she really needs an outlet and somewhere she can genuinely just be herself. The fact that her rebellion is just having a space to express herself normally in is kind of fucked up, she had a really suffocating life and now she doesn’t and I like that. Her Confidant relationship is also really fun so far, I like Makoto even if she’s not an outcast in as strong or the same kind of way as everyone else. I don’t have a lot to say about Morgana so far. I like him, he’s an enormous step up from Teddie, but I think I’ll only be able to write how I really feel about him once the game is over. All in all I fucking love this game and it’s a huge improvement over all of Atlus’ old products in all the ways I’d hope it would be. I’d still prefer there be a gay romance option in the game, but the fact that you can take guys on dates and that you have a gay party member who isn’t treated as weird for it is great. 10/10, my personal game of the year already.

#P5

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mrmichaelchadler · 5 years

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Bright Wall/Dark Room April 2019: Religious Cinema for Non-Believers: Scorsese's Silence

We are pleased to offer an excerpt from the April issue of the online magazine, Bright Wall/Dark Room. Their latest issue is about long movies (150 minutes or more). In addition to Joel Mayward's essay below on Martin Scorsese's "Silence," the issue also includes new essays on "Magnolia," "Lord of the Rings: Return of the King," "Funny People," "Inherent Vice," "Star!", "The Last Emperor," "Laurence Anyways," "Sátántangó," "The Emigrants," and more.

You can read our previous excerpts from the magazine by clicking here. To subscribe to Bright Wall/Dark Room, or look at their most recent essays, click here.

In the beginning, there is only darkness. Crickets chirp and cicadas buzz. There is some small comfort in the auditory, a living hum in the blackness and blindness. Through the void, the sounds of nature build and crescendo, peaking to an almost unbearable cacophony until…

Silence.

Everything is in a fog. Steam and smoke swirl in the blue-grey as our eyes adjust and hints of a human silhouette come into view. A powerful warrior stands before us; our eyes adjust further, and we realize he is adjacent to a type of wooden altar, upon which lie two ambiguous spheres. As we get our visual bearings, we recognize in horror what we are seeing: severed human heads.

The clouds of steam continue to billow through a wide shot of the craggy cliffs, obscuring our view of the various human figures dotting the foreign landscape of patchy grass and bubbling pools. A line of guards marches slowly into view; there follows a patient dissolve, nearly imperceptible in the mist. Then, a man’s back is before us, a prisoner priest helplessly witnessing a cadre of Japanese warriors torture five Portuguese Jesuit missionaries. They pour boiling water from the steaming hot springs onto the Christians’ exposed skin. We hear a voice, a narrated letter sent from the captured priest to any listening followers of Christ beyond Japan. The hopeful epistolary narration—“We only grow stronger in His love”—is a stark contrast to the image of the quivering Father Ferreira (Liam Neeson) in the mud, on his knees out of surrender and despair.

So begins Martin Scorsese’s Silence, an adaptation of Shūsaku Endō’s 1966 novel of the same title and Scorsese’s long-awaited (and underappreciated) passion project. The third of Scorsese’s unofficial trilogy about crises of faith following The Last Temptation of Christ and Kundun, Silence is certainly religious cinema, but it is not a “faith-based film,” nor in the transcendental style of his Last Temptation collaborator, Paul Schrader. It is about entering into the cloud of unknowing, the dark night of the soul, listening to the silence of God and waiting eternally for a response. It is a long movie and a movie of longing. It is both prayerful and profane. In the words of philosopher Richard Kearney, Silence is anatheistic—it is about the lingering question of God after you no longer believe in God, a faith beyond faith. The ana- prefix indicates an afterward, a return, not a synthesis of theism and atheism but a radical openness beyond the binary, what Jacques Derrida calls “religion without religion.” In other words, Silence is religious cinema for our secular age.

In our post-postmodern era, there is a notable rise of the religious “nones” even as there is also a “religious turn” in Western academia and the public sphere—as a society, we are becoming both more and less religious all at once. The 2016 presidential election is indicative of this divided phenomenon as 81% of white American evangelicals voted for Trump, while seven in 10 religious “nones” voted for Clinton. It was not only a crisis of politics, it was also a crisis of faith, particularly as many non-rightwing evangelicals (now “exvangelicals”) found themselves without a clear religious identity, exiles wandering in a secularized religious landscape.

Merely weeks after the election, Scorsese’s Silence quietly slipped into North American theaters with very little notice. Despite near-universal critical acclaim, audiences just didn’t turn out for it; with its $46 million budget, Silence grossed a meager $7.1 million domestically. Where Last Temptation provoked angry protests and boycotts from church groups, Silence elicited mostly muted indifference. Religious audiences may have been uneasy about the film’s doctrinal ambiguities and disturbing violence, while non-believing audiences perhaps couldn’t believe in the religious traditions and tribulations (especially why stepping on the fumi-e would be a such big deal to a priest). Silence appeared too pious for non-believers and too sacrilegious for believers.

But this is precisely how Scorsese has been operating for his entire career as a filmmaker. The opening shot of his first feature film, Who’s That Knocking at My Door, is a close-up of a statue of the Madonna and Child sitting in a New York apartment kitchen, and Scorsese once confessed, “My whole life has been movies and religion. That's it. Nothing else.” Even as his cinematic style and personal theology have developed and matured over the decades, Scorsese has always been breaking down the transcendent-immanent divide in his underlying theological queries and quest for redemption, uniting the sacred and profane, the religious and secular. He says it himself in Mean Streets: “You don't make up for your sins in church. You do it in the streets.” Or in the brothels, the casinos, the boxing rings, the prisons—even in 17th-century Japan.

Ferreira’s letter reaches the ears of two young priests, Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield) and Garupe (Adam Driver), who wish to go to Japan to find their mentor and continue the good work of spreading the gospel of Christianity. They debate the merits and plausibility of this quest with Father Valignano (Ciarán Hinds), who remains reluctant. There are rumors that Ferreira has apostatized and forsaken the faith, that the seed of Christianity cannot take root in this “swamp” of a country, as Ferreira later describes it. This is enough to make Valignano doubt the validity of any more missions. But the idealist young priests cannot give up on their spiritual father. They are so sure, so certain of God’s providence in the matter. With romantic missionary zeal, Rodrigues and Garupe convince Father Valignano to send them to Japan.

There follows an impressive overhead fisheye shot of the three priests descending a flight of white marble stairs as they discuss their mission. In theologically-laden cinematic terminology, this is a “God’s eye view,” a removed above-it-all vantage point looking directly downward, as if an invisible divine presence were watching the characters and actions below. Scorsese absolutely loves this shot—it’s present in every film he’s ever made, perhaps as a silent tribute to his own Roman Catholic upbringing and earlier seminarian longings. Yet I think it’s more than mere auteurist technique—Scorsese is subtly drawing our attention to the transcendent via his cinematography, the Spirit hovering over the waters of our chaotic world. Whether it is Travis Bickle or Henry Hill or Billy Costigan or Jordan Belfort, Scorsese has always been asking through his movies: Is there a God silently watching us? Is there any moral judge or divine comfort beyond this mortal coil? It’s as if cinema is Scorsese’s mode of theological inquiry—he is doing theology via his movies, not just depicting it. In an interview with Deadline about Silence, Scorsese says the following about this theological drive:

“Questions, answers, loss of the answer again and more questions, and this is what really interests me. Yes, the Cinema and the people in my life and my family are most important, but ultimately as you get older, there’s got to be more. Much, much more. The very nature of secularism right now is really fascinating to me, but at the same time do you wipe away what could be more enriching in your life, which is an appreciation or some sort of search for that which is spiritual and transcends?”

There is a both-and approach to the religious and secular with Scorsese, this blurring of categories as he searches for God while acknowledging that the faith of his childhood is gone. He continues: “There are no answers. We all know that. You try to live in the grace that you can. But there are no answers, but the point is, you keep looking.”

You keep looking. This is precisely what Scorsese’s camera does in Silence. It continues to look into the lives (and deaths) of 17th-century Jesuit priests and Japanese Kirishitans, peering directly into the in-between space of belief and doubt. In the sacred-secular divide, Scorsese makes his home within the hyphen.

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.

–James 1:5-6

Many significant moments in Silence occur on beaches, the meeting of sand and sea, the liminal space between the security of dry ground and the relentless undulation of the waves. The biblical book of James describes the latter as akin to doubt, that tumultuous spiritual anxiety which keeps us up at night, wondering. Scorsese the hyphen-dweller places significant narrative crises in Silence on these shorelines, where the solidity of belief is repeatedly washed over by liquid uncertainty.

When Rodrigues and Garupe arrive on the shores of Japan, they initially take shelter in a cave as they wait for Kichijiro (Yosuke Kubozuka), an apostate and the priests’ cowardly Japanese host. This same seaside cave frames the Japanese soldiers and the inquisitor Inoue (Issei Ogata) as they bear witness to the deaths of three Kirishitans hung on crosses in the pounding surf. The cinematic image of the ocean crucifixion is paradoxically horrific and beautiful, the painterly framing honoring these martyrs even as we wonder whether anything is worth this cost. The villagers and priests silently bear witness as the believers’ lives slip away due to exposure to the wind and waves; the Japanese burn the bodies on a pyre, the smoke rising like that from a religious altar. We learn that Kichijiro’s family came to a similar fate on the edge of the sea, burned alive as he publicly recanted.

Rodrigues and Garupe choose to separate in order to hide from the Japanese authorities and possibly spare the villagers from further persecution. Traveling by boat, Rodrigues arrives at Kichijiro’s home village, Gotō, to find it derelict and deserted. Climbing from the boat into the waves, the sounds of nature—the same sounds as the opening title sequence—suddenly break through and fill the soundscape as Rodrigues makes his way to shore. In a striking image, Rodrigues is centered in the frame as he (and we) take in the view of the silent town, overrun with stray cats. As Rodrigues enters a home to lap up water, the camera slowly wanders out an open window in a shot echoing Taxi Driver’s phone call scene with the empty hallway, signifying the abject loneliness of the priest. There is no one listening. Despondent, the priest wonders what we, too, wonder: What am I doing here?

Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.

–1 Kings 19:11-12

Wandering in the misty mountains of Japan, Rodrigues is akin to the prophet Elijah in the wilderness, a believer experiencing the pangs of unbelief. Curled up under a rocky overhang like Elijah was curled under a desert broom tree, the priest’s faith in his mission and his God is no longer so solid. A series of quick dissolves indicate his fractured psyche as he silently pleads with God: “I pray but I am lost. Or am I just praying to nothing? Nothing, because you are not there?”

But God appears. Or, at least the image of Christ manifests in the muddy river waters (another shoreline) just before Rodrigues is betrayed by Kichijiro to the Japanese inquisitors. In a (quite literally) narcissistic move, the exhausted priest sees a vision of the face of Christ in his own reflection, prompting a maniacal laugh before he is captured. The face of Christ in Silence is an adaptation of a 16th-century painting by El Greco, St. Veronica with the Holy Shroud. Traditionally, Saint Veronica offered the struggling Christ her cloth to wipe his brow as he carried the cross to Calvary; when she received the cloth back, the exact image of his face was miraculously impressed into it. I find the shroud’s parallels to celluloid and cinema striking, how an image is imprinted onto the film, creating new meanings. I love how Scorsese deliberately chose this painting of a cloth—an image of an image—to portray his mediated Christ. Like cinema, it generates remarkable empathy and emotion even as there is always a mediated distance—we are always seeing through someone else’s perspective, a vision of the viewed, an alluring aloofness. The mediated Christ of Silence will not speak in the traditional ways of Biblical epics or like Willem Dafoe’s crazed Jesus in Last Temptation, with drama and fervor, gusto and glory, earthquakes and fire. No, if this Christ speaks—and he will—it will be in the sound of sheer silence.

Rodrigues is captured near the exact midway mark of Silence. The film’s second half plays out like an extended courtroom drama as the priest is tried and tested before the inquisitor Inoue and his unnamed translator (Tadanobu Asano). The Japanese make the priest’s life relatively comfortable; though imprisoned, he is allowed to pray the rosary and gather with the Japanese Kirishitans for worship. The wooden cage becomes a confessional, the parallel bars framing the characters’ bodies. In a scene where the Japanese Kirishitans are put forward to step on the fumi-e, the camera remains inside the cage with Rodrigues—we, too, are prisoners watching through the slats, our vision slightly obscured by the vertical divisions which cannot be overcome.

Inoue’s strategy is to compel Rodrigues to recant his faith by torturing the Japanese converts until he does. It is a patient technique, and Scorsese’s pacing and editing incarnate this approach, taking time with the images and ideas presented so that we can truly wrestle with their moral and mortal implications. In yet another shoreline scene, Rodrigues is taken to a beach to witness Garupe from a distance as guards take three prisoner converts and drown them off-shore. Unable to communicate with his fellow priest, Rodrigues (and we) watch helplessly as the emaciated Garupe refuses to apostatize and flings himself into the surf in a desperate attempt to save the victims, drowning in the process. “Terrible business!” the interpreter screams at Rodrigues. “Think about the suffering you have inflicted on these people, just because of your selfish dream of a Christian Japan. Your Deus punishes Japan through you!”

How are we to respond to this? Who is in the wrong: the Japanese inquisitors who torture and kill the Kirishitans and priests, or the European Christians who arrive uninvited and ignore the Japanese cultural heritage in the name of conversion? Why are human beings capable of such cruelty to one another in the name of religion? Why do people suffer and God remains silent? Silence does not offer us simple, black-and-white answers. It demands that we wade into the suffering and sit with it. Yet Rodrigues initially cannot do this—he always has an argument, an answer, a position, a system, a Truth he will clutch tightly in his hands and heart until he is finally able to let go.

My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you. Therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes.

–Job 42:5-6

“Come ahead now. It’s all right. Step on me. I understand your pain. I was born into this world to share men’s pain. I carried this cross for your pain. Your life is with me now. Step.”

In the silence, we hear the calming voice of Christ speak these words to Rodrigues through the fumi-e. Though uncredited, the voice we hear must be Ciarán Hinds, who earlier portrayed Father Valignano. Scorsese’s choice to have Hinds’ voice speak to Rodrigues (and to us) in this climactic scene creates a remarkable ambiguity and tension. Are we to believe this is the actual voice of God, a figment of Rodrigues’ imagination, or some combination therein? For those who believe the former, isn’t it possible that an emotionally-distraught person is merely hearing voices conjured from his broken psyche? For those who believe the latter, isn’t it possible for a divine person (if such a person could exist) to speak in whatever manner desired, especially if the voice were familiar and brought comfort to the hearer? Are you open to the impossible becoming possible, whether toward belief or unbelief? Silence invites us into this liminal uncertainty, asking us not to disbelieve or believe, but to simply be in this unresolved tension and not speak. Step.

He steps. There is absolute silence as Rodrigues places his foot on the fumi-e and his body collapses in slow motion to the dust. He has seen the face of God fade from view, and he will never be the same again.

As the sound returns and the five Japanese victims are raised from the torture pit, we hear the faint but distinct sound of a rooster crowing, an allusion to the Apostle Peter’s threefold denial of Christ. Years later, after Rodrigues has renounced the Christian faith numerous times over, Silence shows us a conversation between the fallen priest and Kichijiro. The Japanese man whispers, “Padre…Please hear my confession.” Rodrigues initially refuses, but as Kichijiro bows before him in penitence, the sound drops out and we hear the fallen priest’s narrated prayer in a whisper: “Lord, I fought against your silence.”

Suddenly, the voice of Christ breaks through: “I suffered beside you. I was never silent.” There is no face, no fumi-e, no vision. Only a voice.

“I know,” confesses Rodrigues. “But even if God had been silent my whole life”—Rodrigues is now speaking this aloud to Kichijiro, to himself, to God?—“to this very day, everything I do, everything I've done...Speaks of him.” A pause. “It was in the silence that I heard your voice.” Then Rodrigues kneels, his forehead pressed to Kichijiro’s, the two men nearly symmetrical in the frame as the camera lingers on their weeping bodies.

In the final shot of the film, the body of the deceased and apostate Rodrigues burns on a Buddhist pyre, the rising white smoke echoing the misty fog of the opening scene. Beginning in a wide shot of the flames, Scorsese’s camera patiently zooms forward through the fire until it rests on a small crucifix clutched in Rodrigues’ hands, placed there by his Japanese widow. This is one of the only moments in Silence not found in Endo’s novel, which concludes on a much more ambiguous note. Scorsese has included a symbol of belief in his adaptation, perhaps to indicate the priest’s futile existence as a Christian, or possibly as a material witness to the glimmer of faith which is possible for anyone and everyone.

On my first viewing of Silence, I identified with Rodrigues. I admired his spiritual and pastoral fervor, his apparent willingness to go to the ends of the earth for his beliefs. Rodrigues sees his story as parallel to Christ’s own Passion. Yet in this I also saw his pride; as Ferreira tells him, “You see Jesus in Gethsemane and believe your trial is the same as his” but the Japanese Kirishitans “would never compare themselves to Jesus.” Rodrigues arrives in Japan with all the right answers, telling the villagers what to do—go find more Christians in other villages!—without listening or learning of their culture and lifestyle. He sees himself as above them; he is a literal white savior on a mission with what he believes is the Truth, capital T. “The truth is universal. That’s why it’s called the truth,” he tells Inoue. I, too, used to be this adamant about having the corner market on the Truth. But what I first saw as conviction I now see as arrogance. To embrace dogmatic belief systems and ideologies—whether religious or secular—and ignore all other possibilities as inherently false is to live a blinkered existence.

On my second viewing of Silence, I identified with Kichijiro, the misfit Japanese Kirishitan who lives in a constant cycle of apostasy and faithfulness. He steps on the fumi-e repeatedly, and with little hesitation; it becomes pathetic, even comical. He follows Rodrigues like the Apostle Peter followed Christ the night he was arrested, lurking and cowering, unwilling to put his life on the line yet unable to pull himself wholly away from the faith. Kichijiro would never draw a parallel between himself and Christ like Rodrigues does; he knows he is too great of a sinner for that. He is humus, Latin for “dirt” or “earth,” our root word for both “humility” and “humiliation.” Yet he returns again, ana, wagering that there is yet grace to be found in this world. I am Kichijiro; I am daily failing forward in my own faith, only certain of my uncertainty as I yearn for possible glimpses of the transcendent.

On my third viewing of Silence, I identified with Scorsese. I was aware of his silent presence throughout the film, his cinematic vision and voice imbuing every scene with a sense of the sacred, the sacramental, the holy. Silence is neither praising nor condemning either the Roman Catholic Church or the Japanese culture, but it is also not neutral or uncaring. It provokes a judgment in its audience; we are not permitted to just sit back, silently watch, and do nothing. Silence invites us into a fictional world and asks us to consider the deepest questions of human existence while recognizing (as Scorsese admits) there are no absolute answers—we simply try to live in the grace that we can.

In Jesuit spirituality, there is an exercise called imaginative prayer, using one’s imagination to place oneself in a biblical scene in order to more fully enter into communion with the story. Perhaps Silence can be considered an act of cinematic Ignatian contemplation, a sensory imagistic experience of meditative and mediated prayer. Scorsese imbues his film with personal, pastoral care; one might even call it love. Whether you are a staunch believer or a die-hard atheist, Silence will lovingly challenge you to imagine the possibility of Another Way. I believe the post-secular pilgrims of our world—the religious nones, the anatheists, the spiritual misfits—may find a home in the Church of Cinema, with Scorsese as our priest.

from All Content http://bit.ly/2GsW07P

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