Polymetis: A Recognition Scene

Monday, June 4, 2012

A Recognition Scene

For context, you can listen to the following (or at least Google the lyrics):

More specifically, the recognition scene (or anagnorisis) in a Greek drama involves the sudden revelation to the main character of a critical fact. The most well-known example is probably the scene in Oedipos Tyrannos in which Oedipus learns that he is the murderer (of his own father) at the center of the play's central conflict (the plague) and the husband of his own mother (the queen). The recognition scene in the embedded Mountain Goats song is sweeter, in some ways (and not just because of the stolen candy), as it captures in time the moment in time when one of a pair of friends realizes not only that the other is crucial to his or her (though the singer is male, it's not specifically called out as such in the song's narrative) life, but that they will probably be separated someday. It's a bittersweet moment, and one that many people can probably relate to.

I do not often free-write, but I'm in the mood to, and recognition scenes are on my mind. So here's a recognition scene (post-writing comment: in verse, apparently, even if prose was my original intent). I make no apologies for the lack of literary quality, as the intent here is to put words to paper (haven't I done that already up above?), and there's Guinness and Jameson both at hand. Hopefully, the words that follow do not assault the senses violently, at the very least.

Ordered strips of gray concrete
Dividing patches of densely packed snow
So blinding in the early morning sun

Mercury hovers in digits solitary
And the wind defies the numbers
Stinging skin, dying it painfully red

But it is that time appointed
A finger already numb from cold
Rings a doorbell in sweet anticipation

Yet harsh exposure continues
The programmed chime left unanswered
A meeting perhaps forgotten or forestalled

Minutes tick while the flow of blood slows
And dry eyes well with tears soon frozen
By the bitter truths of mid-December

Something masquerading as a finger
Strikes the doorbell thrice more
First in concern, then desperation, and finally anger

Morning crawls on, limping in the harsh chill
Time passes unmarked as higher thought declines
Such that departure is dismissed on principle

An age goes by and only then a door opens
Fury hardened in winter melts like ice in summer
Leaving only three words spoken from visitor to guest

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Editorial Note: Game Reviews

You can review a game in countless ways. By now, we’re likely all familiar with scores ranging from 70-100 or some number of stars out of the seemingly ever-present five. Sometimes, we see a game given a grade, as if he’s in elementary school and struggling to master his multiplication tables (but we have to remember that we wouldn’t want anyone to feel like they aren’t succeeding, so make sure never to give an actual F!). Other reviews tend to eschew scoring mechanisms entirely, and these are the types of reviews I hope to emulate. I don’t recall ever reading that someone gave the Iliad an 84 out of 100 (because of “repetitive word usage”). If games can be art (and they can be), we should talk about them like they are and refrain from reducing them to mere letters, numbers, or stars.

I will, in general, stay away from examining games on a graphical level, as game graphics are so entrenched in the available technology of the time. Panning or praising a game for its graphics strikes me as similar to doing the same for a book over the publisher’s choice of typeface. The analogy isn’t perfect (as no doubt everyone understands that printing “The Raven” in size 72 might have adverse effects), but ultimately I think the three pillars of gameplay, systems (though arguably a subset of gameplay), and narrative are far more crucial to video games than graphics could ever be. There are reasons classic video games like Chrono Trigger or Super Mario 64 are timeless classics, and I personally don’t think their graphics top any list of those reasons.