The Ramen Plan

Somewhat more than year ago, I walked into Nobu's, on Olive St. in St. Louis, and made a special request to the kitchen.  I had taken a half-day off from work so that I could go to the doctor, and on my way back, decided to stop at Nobu's to grab a late lunch.  The weather was brisk, and I could think of nothing better than a bowl of steaming ramen, in a thick, porky broth.  The first time I ever ate a bowl of ramen, of real ramen, I was at the food court of the Mitsuwa Supermarket, just outside of Chicago.  I was overwhelmed by how rich and satisfying the broth was, at how gelatinous and delicious the fat in the roast pork belly came out, and how chewy and strong the ramen noodles were.  So when the server told me that the kitchen would be willing to fulfill my request, I began salivating in anticipation.  What came out of the kitchen, however, cannot be called ramen in even the most generous terms.

What they had done was take the dark, thin broth that's used for udon dishes, and dump some chow mein noodles in.  The broth was weak, and the noodles could not even hold their shape.  I did not complain, or send the dish back (after all, I had specially ordered it), but I mentally made a mark against Nobu's for being willing to serve such an insufficient dish.

But where else can a ramen lover go in St. Louis to enjoy a genuine bowl of the stuff?  Nobu's is the most authentic game in town (unless the new menu at Tachibana's has some promise--I haven't been recently), and their ramen disappointed in every way.  Is there no market for high-quality ramen?  Is the American imagination too indelibly corrupted by twenty-nine-cent packages of dried noodles to accept ramen as genuine cuisine?

Then I read Momofuku, by David Chang, and inspiration began to develop in my head.  Why couldn't I do as Chang had done, and create my own hole-in-the-wall noodle shop?  He understandably had difficulty distinguishing himself in New York, but in St. Louis, I would be unique--the only game in town.  Wouldn't midwesterners be willing to shell out seven bucks for a hearty, satisfying bowl of ramen?

So my new goal in life is to start a ramen chain in St. Louis, and gradually expand to other midwestern cities.  The only problems I have are capital and expertise.  I have read Chang's book, which includes his method of making ramen, but I fear that his recipe may be too costly and time-consuming to be able to bring in a bowl of ramen for $6-$7, which is the maximum price point that mainstream consumers would be willing to pay for a lunchtime bowl of soup and noodles.  So I am in need of a recipe, restaurant experience, and start-up money.

This is the future that I dream of.  If anyone steals my idea, I'm coming for you.

Radiohead Appreciation

Just today, I realized that I have been taking Radiohead for granted.  So, if you can, stop a moment, and appreciate how much incredible music they've added to the canon in their lifespan.

I hate to brag about an exclusive, but...

I found this notice hanging on at least two bulletin boards at the University of Missouri-Columbia's Engineering Building-East.  This photo was taken 3/24/2011.

Is this a fan-made teaser?  Perhaps, but why go to the trouble?  And why post it to multiple locations in the building?  On the other hand, if this is from Valve, why would they include their fax number and tell people to call it?  I am curious about how widespread these fliers are.  Has anyone else spotted one at their university?  My gut wants to say this is a teaser for a new Half-Life game, whether it's Half-Life 3, or Half-Life 2: Episode 3 (more likely of the two, in my opinion, although don't be surprised if it's longer than any of the previous episodic installments.  It would pretty much have to be after the wait fans have gone through). So, there you have it: confirmation of a new Half-Life game maybe!

Going back to the homeland

I'm going back to Japan in about a week.  I don't know if I'll be coming back.  It may be strange to consider a country in which I lived for a mere nine months as my second homeland, but I do anyway.  I was originally scheduled to fly over on March 18th, one week after the whole mess erupted.

As the situation evolved throughout that morning, I became more persistent in trying to reach my friends and family, to assure myself that they were safe, knowing already that they were some 400 miles away from any of the major quake areas.  There were probably many like me that morning, who contacted people more out of a desire to show concern and sympathy, and also to have a way to feel connected with the disaster.  I knew there was virtually no chance that anyone in Nagoya had been injured from even a 9.0 magnitude quake off the coast of Miyagi.  After I heard back from everyone, though, and heard similar stories of people contacting loved ones, I felt bad.  Guilty, even.  If those people I know are still alive and functioning normally, does my concern over the earthquake, tsunamis, and the ongoing nuclear muddle disappear?  That was the vibe I got from news reports, conversations with others, and postings on Facebook.  The prevailing sentiments were:  "Thankful all my friends are safe."  My mind wandered to those people who were unable to say that.  What about the families who had been calling for hours, trying to reach someone on the other line?  Some of those people would never get an answer.  What about those people who never had anyone calling them to find out if they were alive, because there was no one still alive that knew of their existence?  Entire families could have been lost.  What was I so grateful for?

I wonder if I would be so concerned with the ongoing story of spreading radiation if I were not scheduled to leave in a week.  I wonder how good of a person I really am. 

I hope I can find a job overseas, but I have my doubts.  The entire country is in a radiation panic, and I doubt that finding new English teachers is high on the list of rebuilding needs.

If McClellan performs in 2011...

...like it appears he will, look for Chris Carpenter to be wearing another uniform in 2012.  The Cardinals will look at Chris Carpenter's close to $16 million salary, followed by his age and injury record, and decide that $12 million on a 30 year old Adam Wainwright makes much more sense.  Will Pujols sign?  I kind of doubt it, but only time will tell.  Maybe this season will convince the Cardinals that Pujols is worth 10 years at $20-whatever million dollars he's seeking.  Maybe Pujols's seeming disloyalty and greed will have turned fans to such an extent that he will have to sign elsewhere, to build a fresh fanbase.  I don't pretend to know.

The worthlessness of Amazon User Reviews

Primarily, my beef with Amazon User Reviews is not the fact that they are written by amateurs.  The willful ignorance of an American public that makes Transformers a perennial box-office smash speaks volumes about the passions of the "average American", often shunning a movie specifically because critics gave it high praise.  Is this an example of the people wanting to revolt in some meaningless way (see also: the tea party), or an instance where the critic looks for challenging media while the public wants something comfortable?  Either way, there is obviously an audience for amateur reviewers, who will echo the things that readers want to see. 

My problem with Amazon User Reviews is that the idea of aggregating user reviews to make a score for subjective pieces of media is flawed.  Number one, in the case where a book, or an album, is relatively unknown, the reviews are correspondingly few.  One of the jobs we ask our critics to carry out is to suss out worthwhile entertainment from a large pile, sometimes of unknowns.  When there are only three reviews of an item, are we to think it's an unheralded masterpiece, or that there are three fanatics who are dedicated to its proliferation?  In the case where reviewers are more or less anonymous, how can those three reviewers be held accountable if they have some personal connection to the item's creators, or otherwise stand to benefit in some way from its sales?

The other major problem with the aggregated scores is that there are always going to be more positive reviews (five star--loved it!) for an item than there will be any other score.  Why?  Unless the writer is passionate about the item, it is far harder for him or her to be inspired enough to go through the chore of writing a review that may even get lost in a larger pool of reviews (Avatar's original theatrical version currently has 1,701).  Perhaps my point can be best expressed by the film Burlesque.  On Metacritic, the film Burlesque received a score of 48.  On my favored review site, The A.V. Club, it received a B-.  Fair enough, but on The A.V. Club's site, I can read why they gave it that B-, and decide (as I did), that the reasons they liked it were not going to appeal to me.  But go over to Amazon, and it's gotten 4.5 out of 5 stars.  The number of five-star votes it received is over double the number of votes it got for all other levels combined.  Why?  If you're not passionate about Burlesque, why bother writing about it?  Amazon's star-level reviews can safely be ignored.  It's a place for shopping, not a bastion of discerning tastes.

Character Actor

To keep going on the video game theme, I think one of the main reasons it has become difficult to launch new intellectual properties in the industry is that 3D gaming (not 3D as in stereoscopic 3D, but 3D in terms of depth of playing field) has made it next to impossible to market new iconic characters.  Most new games made feature either a first-person perspective or a third-person perspective.  In the case of the former, the player never gets a chance to see what his or her character looks like, and it is very difficult to market a character that the player never sees.  In the case of third-person games, the camera is nearly always situated behind the player, meaning that all the player ever sees of his or her main character is the back of his or her head.  It's similarly difficult to market the back of a character's head.  More to that point, I think that this perspective, although convenient for gameplay purposes, takes away from some of the connection with and caring about the character that a player should feel.  A successful video game should make the player both concerned about and responsible for the well-being of the character on the screen.  Note that games that aim for immersion (you ARE the character!) are the best-off in the first-person perspective, but, again, it is difficult to market immersion more than once.  For games that are supposed to be character-driven, the side-scrolling template is the most effective.

Which character would you rather try to turn into a franchise:

This one?

metroid.retropixel.net

                  

Or this one?

metroid.retropixel.net

                       

              

Much as I love Metroid Prime (it's one of my top 10 favorite games of all time), I doubt I would have enjoyed it nearly as much if it had not been able to trade on the preexisting image I have of Samus Aran from the 2D games.  How can the industry fix this?  I'm not really sure.  Sales do not seem to be suffering (although most new franchises are shot down after the first game tanks), but the larger danger is a lack of creativity in the industry.  How can developers create a new character that will grab the imaginations of gamers in the 3D era?

Why Nintendo Succeeds

I just finished Kirby's Epic Yarn today, since work was cancelled for the third day straight.  The graphics were charming, just as they had been in videos.  But it struck me that, once you get into the game, you barely notice the main conceit of having everything made out of some form of textile.  Not to say that the game is not beautiful, but I think that's the nature of a fast-paced platformer--it has to keep the action moving, or else the player feels like a level is empty.  How many of us have really enjoyed the aesthetic qualities of Super Meat Boy?  Probably not too many, because the game always keeps the player's brain focused on how to clear the next hurdle.  So why, then, is Kirby's Epic Yarn a great game?  Why has Nintendo been the dominant force in platformers (especially 2-D plaformers) since they pioneered the genre?  It is because Nintendo has world-class level designers.  I cannot think of any company that can match the creativity of level design that takes place at Nintendo's development studios.  One of the levels in Kirby's Epic Yarn allow players to switch gravity on and off, allowing for some gameplay reminiscent of Super Mario Galaxy.  Some others turn Kirby into a dolphin, and ask him to flip and toss balls with his nose to gain beads, which in this game are analogous to Sonic's rings.  Another level has constant winds from different directions, and the player has to figure out when to trigger Kirby's parachute form in order to successfully traverse the level.

Some reviewers have made much of the fact that, since Kirby cannot die, the game is too easy.  I find it refreshing.  Looking back at platformers from the past (I write this thinking specifically of Ducktales, for the NES, a great game and fine example of level design in it's own right), dying and having to restart a level from the beginning, limiting continues (or not including any in the first place), or dying and having to do the same stuff you've already beaten thirty-five times just to find out that, nope, that's not how you beat this boss, either; all of these things are used to prolong gameplay time, not enhance enjoyment.  They are implemented to hide the fact that there are only five levels in the game.  To be honest, there are two reasons I play video games.  First, I play for the power fantasy.  Like most little boys, I grew up with action figures of superheroes, and fantasized that I, too, had the power to alter the world to my liking.  Maybe I haven't grown up so much.  The other reason I play video games is for the sense of exploration that comes with discovering new levels, or parts of a new world.  The system of punishment in Kirby's Epic Yarn, where the player loses beads if he or she gets hit or falls off a ledge, is perfect for those like me who want to explore the world fully, while still maintaining a sense that the player's actions have effects in the video game world.

To wrap up, Nintendo is still the best developer in the world, and it is not due to the characters, nor the atmospheres they create.  It is because their levels are the most uniquely and perfectly designed in the entire industry.

What I'm All About

I welcome you.  Please wipe your feet before you begin your journey into my mind.  I plan to write about the stuff that I like, which is how I came up with the name.  Things falling into this category will be varied, as I like many different things, ranging from baseball to hipster music to Japanese girls culture to Batman to video games to cooking.  I may even swear occasionally.  It's gonna be wild.

More succinct?  Okay.  Here's what I'm all about, in one glorious picture:

These posts may take the form of a series of reviews (most likely), a sharing of thoughts, a serialized version of some stories a la Charles Dickens back in the day (yes, I just heard you groan.  That's not nice.  You might really like it.  No?  Well, we'll see), or fodder for debate.  In all cases, I will consult the highest authorities available (Wikipedia) to ensure content accuracy.  And I promise not to sign off with a pretentious moniker until I make it big.  Deal?

Josh