I graduated with a bachelor of arts in Film and Television Production and studied screeenwriting independently since then, having worked for about two years in the film industry in and around story development. I currently work at Maker Studios as a Channel Development Coordinator. All of this put together means that story structure and new media are things that keep me up at night. I’m here today to examine the evolving landscape of narrative structure within short-form internet media, or, why it’s so hard for a webseries to become a hit. Continue reading »
Firstly, I and the rest of the gaming community would like to extend our immense gratitude to you for the countless hours of joy you have given to us throughout the years. You are no doubt an invaluable creator of some of the most iconic videogames in history, helming some of the amazing pieces of art I have ever had the fortune to play. I count the Metal Gear series among the most beautiful games I have ever played. However despite this, myself and a few others amongst this community have noticed something concerning; something that, if we do not address it soon, may have great repercussions in the future.
Mr. Kojima, we need you to start tweeting pictures of the food that you’re eating again.
You last tweeted on October 9th, and have since maintained a stoic silence on the platform. Even looking past the fact that we’re all worried that you haven’t given any status updates at all since then, It has been over a month since I was last able to track your movements around the world by what you were eating at the time. It has been over a month since I felt that I knew you.
So it is with great reverence that I humbly ask you, Mr. Kojima, to come back into the lives of us Twitter followers. You are without a doubt a treasure to the human race, both in the medium of videogames and the medium of camera photos of the food that you’re currently eating at the time. We appreciate your tweets more than you’ll ever know, and hope that someday you’ll again bring light into our lives.
Okay, so I was at the San Diego Comic-Con a couple months ago – and this is eventually going to be about how I had a weekend long love affair with a Japanese body pillow, but it’s gonna take a little bit of time to get around to that, so just stick with me.
So I was at Comic-Con a couple months ago and the original plan that my brother Tim and I had was to go to the convention cosplaying as two guys who didn’t get the difference between Star Trek and Star Wars. We borrowed two star trek uniforms and two Jedi robes and ran around the convention floor waving our lightsabers and misquoting the movies. My personal favorite moment was when we were taking a picture with two hot Sith lords and after putting our hands in “live long and prosper” formation and telling them to, “set lightsabers to ‘stun’”, they called us a bunch of ironic hipsters. Without missing a beat I asked her what season of Enterprise she was from. Continue reading »
Peter opened his eyes. Pre-dawn light washed the sky and everything around him in soft blue glow. Peter shivered a little and closed his eyes again. A sour taste still lingered on his tongue. Fluids that were once in his body that made him feel good and well were long ago expulsed, and his body was punishing him for it. His head hurt and he was thirsty. There was a little pang way deep down inside of him that he could still feel. He always thought that if he went to sleep, the pang would be gone and he would feel much better. It was still there.
He was lying down sideways on a cement bench. Behind him was the suburban Catholic church that he had fallen asleep in front of. He opened his eyes again. Before him stood an enormous cowboy towering from left to right, bent over with his arms on his knees. The cowboy’s horizontal features bothered Peter. He sat up, blinked a little, and saw an enormous cowboy towering over him bottom to top, bent over with his arms on his knees. This was a little better.
The cowboy smiled ear to ear and extended his right hand. “Cowboy Steve,” he said. Continue reading »
This is the story of Little Eric Corner. Little Eric Corner was a 13-year-old boy growing up in the San Fernando Valley, which is a homely suburb just north of Los Angeles. He was a very average child leading a very average life on a very average cul-de-sac in this very average valley.
In addition to this being a story about Little Eric Corner, this is also the story of Little Emily Wheeler. Little Emily Wheeler was a 13-year-old girl who was also Little Eric Corner’s next-door neighbor. Little Emily Wheeler was a lot less average than Little Eric Corner. She was playful and effervescent and absolutely lovely to be around. She was a little smarter and a little faster and a little cuter than most girls her age, and for this reason all the boys loved her. Little Eric Corner loved her too.
Now, something must be said about the word “Love” in this context. The love of 13-year-olds as compared to the love of anything-else-year-olds is much different in comparison. The age 13 coincides accurately with the onset of puberty, the development of breasts, and the isolation and vaccination of the Cootie virus. Growing past this age, “Love” transforms from real magic into an illusory set of smoke and mirrors; our hearts become a little sadder; and the Cootie virus mutates into Chlamydia, Gonorrhea, and other such sexually transmitted diseases. As such, 13 can be seen as the perfect prime in our ability to love, which is what makes the story of Little Eric Corner and Little Emily Wheeler so important. Continue reading »
