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About Me: Sorry, but I haven't yet shared the information about myself that would typically display here. Check back later to see if that changes, or if I instead choose to remain an enigma. |
Have not had the urge to review. Whip me into shape.
Just like one of our fellow Gamespot staff has said in Freeplay, the RPG has been in a rut. Ever since Final Fantasy VII. It revolutionized without fail - and perhaps, over-revolutionized. Quite frankly, every damn RPG that has come after FF7 has tried to mimic it and follow it as if it was manual to success. And now I can't stand playing RPGs anymore. And I loved FF7.
But let's not go overboard. We can argue that everything looks like FF7 because, well, it's an RPG. With a few exceptions aside, RPGs were like this ever since the day we had a NES twinkle in our eyes. Still, the fact remains.
Most of my energy has been spent towards writing comments for the "Clear To The Spot" contest on Gamespot. I have no sleep schedule, now. (Now I know how it feels to give scores and write comments.)
Haven't even started on the KoR tournament. (Uggghhhh... meets floor)
Most of video game design and development don't focus on the designer but on creating an experience for the player. Therefore, there is a great debate between game designers whether gaming is "pure" art. Even Hideo Kajima, creator of the revolutionary (if not flawed) Metal Gear Solid series, believes that games are not art as it is more of a product of commercialism than anything else. When you break games down, however, there are definitely components of them that are deemed art: game screenplay writing, graphical style, soundtrack, etc. Beyond this, one thing stands out:
Art is entertainment. Entertainment is commerce.
Naked thirst
Bound by caress
Cuts clear
Ice fresh scars
Still painting one
Narrow eye
Under
Death's sustenance wide
Closed shoulders
Veins
Cracked sapphire
Dry rot
Failed precious dark
Rushed sever hush
Blame I
I
I.
This site really sucks my energy away.
I thought of winter. The color of still soil gently calms over the cornrows. Silky wheat grains sway like children upon crowns of snow. And as I sweep this blanket with my arms and legs, my life shines bright and round. My memory slowly fades to gold and the green meadows, the oak forest, and the rushing waters wash over me. A cold dash of springtime awakens the love I once knew. I smile and stare at the passing clouds. And amidst my quiet thoughts, I think of the blue, blue sky and the sound of white and falling earth.
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