Stuck Inside of Visalia with the Bakersfield Blues Again...

So I'm grounded by mechanical trouble for this wonderful New Year's Eve. I've been out eating Brazilian food and now am enjoying the New Year as any good recluse would, with the solace and silence of my thoughts and a copy of Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.

This year we've gone from Miley Cyrus to Metal Gear, monkey prostitutes to extreme beer, and everywhere in between. I'd like to thank our contributing bloggers, Herr Zrbo and Ninquelote. Zrbo has contributed greatly with his prodigious video game criticism and Ninquelote is conservative.

A Cosmically American New Year to all, and to all a goodnight.

Mmmm, Beeeer

I enjoyed this article about Sam Calagione and his brewery, Dogfish Head.

As a child I couldn't stand the taste or even smell of beer, but now I love it. At some point I started to dislike most sweet drinks-I even drink diet soda. Red wine is good, but doesn't equal beer as a sipping drink. Beer has an amazing flavor; I seem to recognize that I shouldn't like it, but do. So called "extreme beers" have attracted my attention of late, and I'm particularly fond of sour IPA's such as Stone Brewery's Ruination. I'll have to give Dogfish Head a try.

"The Decider"

I was flipping through TV last night when I stumbled upon the documentary "The Decider" on MSNBC, hosted by Chris Matthews. Did anyone else catch it? It was sort of surreal watching a documentary "looking back" on the Bush presidency. Sure, maybe it's a bit early, he's not even out of office yet, but it was surely the first time I truly realized that Bush won't be our president anymore. I guess it's the strange realization that one day we'll be looking back at the last eight years as a piece of history. Like the way my parents would talk about Watergate or Vietnam. It's strange that one day I'll be telling some future kid about the Iraq war long after it's over.

Anyways, I haven't even said anything about the documentary. Basically it was trying to look at Bush's presidency with some sort of hindsight. I tell ya, it's interesting to see how much he's aged in the last 8 years. There was a clip of Bush sitting at his desk on 9/11 addressing the nation that evening, and he looked 10-15 years younger than he does now, complete with a full head of brown hair. Well, if you catch The Decider I would recommend it purely for the feeling it invokes of waking up from a long dream.

U.S. to Disentegrate in 2010 Due to Civil War and Moral Degeneration...

...predicts Russian professor Igor Panarin.

"When I pushed the button on my computer and the map of the United States disintegrated, hundreds of people cried out in surprise," he remembers. He says most in the audience were skeptical. "They didn't believe me."

At the end of the presentation, he says many delegates asked him to autograph copies of the map showing a dismembered U.S."

Sounds like a fun conference.

"He predicts that economic, financial and demographic trends will provoke a political and social crisis in the U.S. When the going gets tough, he says, wealthier states will withhold funds from the federal government and effectively secede from the union. Social unrest up to and including a civil war will follow. The U.S. will then split along ethnic lines, and foreign powers will move in.

California will form the nucleus of what he calls "The Californian Republic," and will be part of China or under Chinese influence. Texas will be the heart of "The Texas Republic," a cluster of states that will go to Mexico or fall under Mexican influence. Washington, D.C., and New York will be part of an "Atlantic America" that may join the European Union. Canada will grab a group of Northern states Prof. Panarin calls "The Central North American Republic." Hawaii, he suggests, will be a protectorate of Japan or China, and Alaska will be subsumed into Russia."

A dubious claim, Texas' gross domestic product alone exceeds that of Mexico. Additionally, how is a civil war going to work with all sides armed with state of the art hydrogen bombs? Still, that map would make for an awesome steampunk RPG campaign setting. Come to think of it, maybe Igor's been playing a bit too much Crimson Skies lately.

Keep It Up, Pitchfork, Keep It Up

Once again, more evidence that album reviews are not their strong suit: "LOLz: Classic Album Covers Get the LEGO Treatment." Now here is the kind of article I'm talking about people. If it weren't for Pitchfork, I would have never been blessed with the sight of this:
Or this:
Or this:
Or this personal favorite:
Or these (for all you Belle and Sebastian fans):
Come on Pitchfork, just give it up and turn into a humor blog already.

2. Belle and Sebastian's The Boy With The Arab Strap (1998)

This album? According to most Belle and Sebastian fans, this isn't even their best one. Hell, the author of Belle and Sebastian: Just a Modern Rock Story claims it is their worst. But I care not for the opinions of Belle and Sebastian fans. Although I suppose I am one. But I wouldn't consider myself the typical Belle and Sebastian fan, at least.

To me, the typical Belle and Sebastian fan would be someone more like my brother. From 1997 to 1998 he'd been studying abroad in England, and when he came back he started ranting and raving about "this incredibly obscure Scottish band, they're not even famous in Scotland." He hoisted a cassette copy of If You're Feeling Sinister in the air. I took a look at it.

"What is this, some kind of folk music duo?"

"Actually they're a band of about seven people and there isn't actually anyone in the band named Belle or Sebastian."

OK, weird. I was rather skeptical of this album's potential quality, for mainly two reasons: 1) it was new, and 2) my brother liked it. My brother liked all kinds of crap, such as Yanni and the Indigo Girls. So here's some band that I've never heard of before, and he's telling me it's amazing. Fat chance. Sure enough, he played the album to me, and I wasn't overly impressed. I thought the song title "Like Dylan in the Movies" was clever, but I could tell that my brother didn't even get the reference. I told him that it sounded like Nick Drake, which is impressive in retrospect because I hadn't actually heard Nick Drake at that point; I'd only read about him and imagined what he sounded like, and what I imagined Nick Drake to sound like sounded like...Belle and Sebastian! To be fair, I didn't listen very closely, but I do find it interesting, knowing the album's reputation now, that I was totally unenthusiastic about Sinister at that point. A couple of theories: 1) I had no idea who Stuart Murdoch was, or what he was about, or why I should have cared; 2) my brother was sitting there in the car telling me how great the album was, and no sane music listener can function under those conditions; 3) Sinister just wasn't destined to be my favorite Belle and Sebastian album.

Fast-forward a couple of months to November 1998. I am a freshman in college. My brother, clearly undeterred by my lack of enthusiasm for the band, sends me a tape with If You're Feeling Sinister on one side and the band's brand new album, The Boy with the Arab Strap, on the other. I figure, "Aw, what the hell, might as well give this new one a quick listen and placate my brother, I'm sick of my Supertramp tapes for the time being." So I put it in the player.

And it was good. Really good. Better than Supertramp good. And that's pretty good. It was like a full-on sensory onslaught. It was like a rainy autumn afternoon, or a dip in a summer stream. One beguiling melody just blended right into the next and I couldn't even tell where one song began and another ended. It was just a giant sloshing sea of keyboards, pianos, trumpets, violins, guitars, handclaps, bagpipes, recorders, synthesizers...you name it. I didn't bother listening to the lyrics; I assumed they were probably great and left it at that. Before the album was even over, I knew it was a winner.

But...but...my brother liked these guys! I couldn't just tell him he was right, could I? Next time we spoke on the phone, I considered mentioning it, but after he divulged some grotesque sexual exploits, I decided not to bother. The mere thought of the album made me think of my brother's neuroses, so I locked it away in a drawer for months, still only having listened to it that one time. But I knew. I knew it was one of those albums that would sound good the second time and the third time and the thirteen hundredth time, because I know these things.

Eventually, after placing sufficient distance between my brother's unnecessary divulgences and the tape he made me, I returned to Arab Strap in full force. I must have listened to it more times than Stuart Murdoch probably listened to Hatful of Hollow. As soon as "The Roller Coaster Ride" would crawl to a finish, I'd immediately rewind the tape right back to "He had a stroke at the age of 24/It could have been a brilliant career." Since I didn't have the lyric sheet, I tried my best to decipher the band's impenetrable Scottish references. For years I thought "Has he ever seen Dundee" in "Seymour Stein" was "Has he ever seen Gandhi?" I didn't know what the hell seeing Gandhi had to do with Seymour Stein, but I'd sure as hell seen Gandhi (some of the lyrics I was sure I misunderstood I'd actually heard correctly; apparently he really was saying "The United States of Calamity, hey"). On breaks from college, I used to hop in the car at 3:00 in the morning and just drive down the coast. One time I remember parking the car out by Pigeon Point Lighthouse, with nobody else around, just me and the crescent moon and the ocean. It's starting to sound like with every single album on this list I went out and stared at the crystalline wonder of the night sky, but come on, if great albums don't make you want to go out and stare at the crystalline wonder of the night sky, then what the hell are they good for?!

Now that I liked Arab Strab, I gave Sinister another try - but I still agreed with my initial assessment. Gradually I came to learn that I had fallen for the wrong Belle and Sebastian album! In fact, Arab Strap was apparently a huge step backward for the band, according to the group's highly passionate fans. I think Sinister is an album on which the lyrics are more prominent, and more immediately entertaining. A lot of fans fell in love with Murdoch's lyrics and simply wanted more of his lyrics, so when, on Arab Strap, he started letting Isobel and Stevie Jackson write songs, fans were like, "WTF? We want Stuart Murdoch songs with witty Stuart Murdoch lyrics!" Since I didn't worship Sinister in that way, I never felt like Arab Strap was a disappointment. I can see why a lot of fans would have, but I don't share their hostility. Parts of Sinister come off to me as a little overly-cutesy or too charming by half. I think the lyrical approach on Arab Strap is a little more mature and confident. Sinister is sort of pitched, perhaps unintentionally, to a more exclusive audience - like, "Hey, you found us, congratulations!" Whereas on Arab Strab the band knew it already had an audience and kept the in-jokes to a minimum. I also think the melodies on Arab Strap are simply...stronger. About a third of the songs on Sinister, like "Fox in the Snow," "Mayfly," and "The Boy Done Wrong Again," strike me as a bit meh. Perhaps there aren't any songs on Arab Strap quite as well-written as "Like Dylan in the Movies" or "Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying," but Arab Strap, for me at least, has more color and texture overall. (Truth be told, Arab Strap's toughest competition probably comes from Belle and Sebastian's own EPs; if Push Barman To Open Old Wounds were an album proper, it might have made my list.)

Many fans also point to Murdoch's (soon-to-be-permanent) decision to divvy up the songwriting as evidence of Arab Strap's inferiority to Sinister, but, when I first began listening to the album at least, I liked that some of the songs were written by other members but that most of the songs were still written by Murdoch. I liked this idea of Murdoch as ringmaster but not dictator. To me, the balance on Arab Strap seemed just right, and it wasn't until the follow-up, Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like a Peasant, where the balance became genuinely out of whack (that and the fact that Murdoch's songs were...not as good). In retrospect, now that Stevie Jackson has been given ample opportunity to shine and, in the opinion of many, has ultimately revealed himself to be a lesser talent than Murdoch, I am not as enthusiastic about "Seymour Stein" and "Chickfactor" as I once was. I must admit I cringe a little when I hear him sing "I caught a glimpse of someone's face" and he sings the word "faa-a-a-a-ce" like he's about two seconds away from soiling his pants in trepidation. But back in 1998, how was I to know that Stevie Jackson would become...Stevie Jackson? Likewise, Isobel Campbell's hushed whisper on "Is It Wicked Not To Care?" is not for all tastes; she sounds as though one poke in the ribs would knock her right over. But see, Arab Strap is so eclectic! In the space of about five minutes, you go from the funky, handclap-laden outro of "Seymour Stein," to Stuart David's surf-jazz sci-fi spoken word piece "A Spaceboy Dream," to Stuart Murdoch's orchestrated, Motownesque erotic rumination "Dirty Dream No. 2." But it all just sounds like the band jamming! I think this is what Beck was trying to sound like half the time - except with, you know, actual soul and feeling.

Still, although the album is more than the sum of its blah blah blah, two songs stand out to me as particularly exemplary. "Sleep the Clock Around" features what appears to be a saw as percussion and also the best use of bagpipes in pop music history. The lyrics are perhaps a snapshot of what it must be like to bum around Glasgow on the dole:

In the morning you come to the ladies salon
To get all fitted out for The Paperback Throne
But the people are living far away from the place
Where you wanted to help, it's a bit of a waste
And the puzzle will last till somebody will say
"There's a lot to be done while your head is still young"
If you put down your pen, leave your worries behind
Then the moment will come, and the memory will shine

When Stuart and Isobel hit the word "shine," suddenly there's this sound that's like God's head exploding. There's also a nice trumpet solo as well.

The title track opens with the world's most hypnotic organ riff and settles into a groove that circles around itself for five minutes and would be just as enjoyable, as far as I'm concerned, if it continued on for twenty. Murdoch uses the song's bouncy rhythm as a cover for a stream-of-consciousness diatribe that features some of his nastiest lyrics ever:

A central location for you is a most as you stagger about making free
With your lewd and lascivious boasts
We all know you're soft 'cause we've all seen you dancing
We all know you're hard 'cause we've all seen you drinking from noon
Until noon again
You're the boy with the filthy laugh
You're the boy with the arab strap

What I love about Belle and Sebastian is the contrast between the delicate, pastoral musical setting and the biting, sarcastic lyrical content. I don't even know who Murdoch is ripping on, but I'll be damned if I'm not bopping my head and clapping along every time. He's the master of elegant pop with an edge.

Speaking of mastery: Arab Strap is so stocked with hidden riches that only just recently did I genuinely notice the second-to-last track, "Simple Things." It's only 1:45 in duration but Murdoch doesn't waste a note. Sandwiched between "Chickfactor" and "The Rollercoaster Ride," tracks so quiet they're almost on life support, "Simple Things" is like a bracing burst of urgency and conciseness:

If you want me I'll be there
A boy to deal with all your problems
But part of the deal
Is for you to feel something

If you want me look me up
I don't exist in usual places
Subtle as the wind is grey

If you want me you know where I am
I saw your arms in a dream
And there were blue veins blue
Blue veins

If you want me all you have to do
Is ask a thousand questions
Triplicate and file under
"Simple things you ask to make a young boy sigh"

So how about that? Ten years later, and my brother's discovery is rewarding me still. Just don't tell him I said so.

Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty (Kojima, 2001): The Mega Analysis

Upon the release of Hideo Kojima's 'Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots' earlier this year, critics heaped praise onto this final chapter of the Metal Gear saga. The review at Gamespot, my preferred site for reviews, begins with this:

"Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots is the most technically stunning video game ever made. It's also a fine example of storytelling prowess within its medium, combining gameplay and narrative so slickly and beautifully that it's impossible to extricate one from the other. It's likely you will emerge awestruck from your first play-through, wishing the experience would continue yet nonetheless satisfied with its conclusion. It's difficult not to sound hyperbolic when discussing MGS4 because every part of its design seemingly fulfills its vision, without compromise. There is no halfway."

I am not here to talk about this game. I'm here to talk about 'Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty'. I haven't played the fourth title yet, but what that review says about the fourth title I would apply to the second. I'm going to go ahead and say that for me, this was the best videogame narrative I've ever experienced. By the time the final credits rolled I was so blown away that I had trouble sleeping that night, trying to make sense of what I had just experienced.

Speaking to a good friend a few days later, I said that it's almost a shame that MGS2 is a videogame, in that it requires you to play it to experience it, that you can't just sit back and be a passive observer. But that's also the beauty of it, because the game begins to toy with you right off the bat, leading you down further and further rabbit holes, which eventually start to break the fourth wall, leading up to a point where you, the player, are the one being played.

It's difficult to talk specifically about MGS2 without giving too much away. It's told in two chapters. The first chapter begins with you, back as Solid Snake, investigating a tanker leaving New York harbor in the middle of the night. It's been two years since the Shadow Moses incident, the name given to what happened in the first game. Snake now works with Otacon, the scientist and inventor of the original Metal Gear, for a group named 'Philanthropy', with the goal to rid the world of all Metal Gears, which have now become widely available since Ocelot, one of the main baddies from the first game, made off with the test data after the Shadow Moses incident and sold it on the black market. Otacon has learned (under mysterious circumstances) that a new version of Metal Gear is being transported on this vessel and Snake is being sent to investigate. Snake makes his way onboard, and let's just say things don't go as planned, resulting in the tanker sinking just off the coast of Manhattan.

Then the real story begins. In chapter 2 you start off as Snake, or at least you think you're Snake, being given a briefing in a scene eerily reminiscent of the original Metal Gear Solid. You're reminded about an oil tanker that sunk off the coast of Manhattan two years ago, and how the government came in and created 'The Big Shell' - an offshore platform built to clean up the mess. Just like with the original MGS, you're told that the President was touring the facility when terrorists took over the platform and are demanding a ransom, otherwise they'll kill the President and blow the Big Shell, resulting in an even greater environmental disaster. Then, in a bizarre twist, you're told that the leader of the terrorists is Solid Snake himself! And then it's revealed that you, the player, are not Snake, but Raiden, an effeminate whiny-voiced soldier who's had extensive training in virtual reality scenarios but who's now on his first real world mission.

This completely throws you off as the player, for you know what happened two years ago with the tanker, you just played that part, and now you're not only told an alternate history of those events, but you're told that Snake was responsible (which he wasn't)! And on top of that you're not playing as Snake, the hero, but as some other guy! What's going on here??

Things get weirder. Colonel Campbell, who, just like in the original MGS commands the operation, informs you that he had to get a replacement communications officer due to some unforeseen circumstances. For the replacement he's picked... Rose, your girlfriend? Raiden is baffled by this, as are we. Over the course of the game Raiden will have many conversations with Rose via Codec, a sort of video-chat player Kojima uses as his primary narrative device. These talks with Rose are often lengthy discussions on the meaning of relationships, the importance of communication, and the importance of trust. I've never witnessed such conversations in a videogame, and even most television and movies don't go into such painstaking detail of how conversations in relationships can play out. Plus she refers to Raiden by his real name, Jack. So we've got Jack and Rose, a la a movie about a sinking ship, I don't think this is just coincidence. Watch an example of these conversations here.

More bizarre things happen. As the story progresses you run into a man who looks and talks exactly like Solid Snake (voiced by the same actor), but who goes by the ridiculous name Iriquois Pliskin. You meet another Cyborg-Ninja, just like in the original game, who gives you a gift from some group called the 'La Li Lu Le Lo'. As the game goes on the rug is continually pulled out from under the player. Twists within twists. Eventually the game itself (or is it Kojima?) starts to toy with you, implementing fake game over screens ('Fission Mailed' instead of 'Mission Failed') and other bizarre happenings that break the fourth wall.

And then comes the finale, where the game becomes so bizarre and ridiculous I didn't know what to think. I was reminded of the infamous boat ride scene in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory where you begin to think the director is either crazy or he's just having his way with you. I thought, "Has Kojima just lost it at this point? Is he just messing with me knowing that I'm too far involved not to continue?" Things got so strange near the end that I called out to my girlfriend in the other room to come witness what I was seeing to make sure I wasn't crazy. I thought that perhaps Kojima was some alien genius whose brain functioned at a higher level because I have no idea how he thought this stuff up, wrote it, and executed it so brilliantly. It's like some bizarre combination of the intricate and meticulous plots of Umberto Eco, mixed with the surrealness of David Lynch, and topped off with a dash of eccentric Japanese anime flair.

I can't describe the ending without ruining the story, but it ends with a whole treatise on the nature of self and truth, the importance of faith and free-will, and how our past is linked to our future as a species. In attempting to understand everything I stumbled across this site (it's one huge spoiler, you've been warned) which is devoted entirely to a discussion of the finale. I found this part was a good summation of the first two MGS games:

"The first Metal Gear Solid deals with the question, 'How much of a human being is defined by the genes?'. Naturally, the theme for the second is its complimentary part, 'How much of a human being is defined by information?'"

Update: This last Christmas day my dad gave me a catalog from MIT press to look at to see if there were any books I might be interested in. I ran into this book, which appears to deal with what I think Kojima was trying to say. Also, I've read that Goedel, Escher, Bach is another good place to start.

That's it for my look at Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty. I'll leave you with the closing credits to the game, set against shots of New York City and Federal Hall (where the game ends) with a great accompanying jazzy piece of music that fits perfectly. Stick around for the end to hear Snake's final monologue (and click on Part 41 if you dare to listen to the final Codec call, a Metal Gear tradition, major spoilers!).

P.S - Did I forget to mention there's a part where Raiden runs around naked? You can watch a short X-Play retrospective of this memorable incident.

Ur-Cruise and Fagen:

English majors undergoing mid-period academic calcification will often write about the lesser known works of famous figures. This sort of writing is usually crap. However, this Slate article extolling the virtues of Tom Cruise in Risky Business is worth a read. In Stephen Metcalf's words, "I can't name another American icon who has been so popular, and for so long, and yet so hard to like, and for so long." Personally, I've always enjoyed Tom Cruise as an actor, although I've never seen Top Gun. So he wants to give a big fuck you to the world by becoming a rabid Scientologist and marrying Katie Holmes just because he can. More power to him.

Donald Fagen now writes interesting, informative columns about forgotten media figures - in addition to being the lead singer from Steely Dan and having written some of the greatest songs of all time. I'm jealous and ashamed of myself, but happy to read this article.

Oh, and Christopher Hitchens makes fun of some religious guy. It's kind of like shooting fish in a barrel at this point, eh Hitch? Why did President-Elect Obama pick this religious guy to perform at his inauguration? I don't know, it probably sounded good at the time and it would look bad to switch now. If I were being inaugurated I'd choose to be sworn in on the Koran, just because I could. Right after I married Katie Holmes.

What Every Pitchfork Media Article Should Be Like

Seriously. They should just retire the album reviews and only publish Worst Album Cover lists. Highlights:

Dido: Safe Trip Home
In space, no one can hear you yawn.

The Magnetic Fields: Distortion
I was going to listen to this album, but then I used it as a restroom.

My Morning Jacket: Evil Urges
Can Brian Dennehy crack the Da Vinci Code?

James Taylor: Covers
http://menwholooklikeoldlesbians.blogspot.com/

p.s. A pretty entertaining new blog I just found: menwholooklikeoldlesbians.blogspot.com

Can Love Bloom on a Battlefield? - Metal Gear Solid Conclusion

It's taken me a while but I finally finished the original Metal Gear Solid. In terms of plot, so much has happened since our last outing that it's hard to wrap it all up, but I'll try. Hideo Kojima, the creator of the series, really enjoys large, complex plots. Essentially, Snake learns that he has to stop the Metal Gear from firing. He also learns that he's been injected with a genetic virus called "FoxDie" which is a virus programmed only to kill certain people with a certain genetic makeup. Snake learns that he was injected with FoxDie so that he would infect the terrorists trying to take control of Metal Gear when he came into contact with them, but he learns that it is designed to kill him also. Basically his whole mission was a setup by the government from the beginning - in order to cover up the secret of the Metal Gear project, which if exposed could cause huge tensions between the superpowers of the world, Snake was injected with FoxDie. When he came into contact with the various terrorists they would be exposed to it and die (thus why the DARPA chief died of a mysterious heart-attack, because he wasn't the DARPA chief at all, he was one of the terrorists in disguise! Still following?). Snake also learns that the leader of the terrorists, Liquid Snake, is actually his twin brother. You see - they were all part of a genetic experiment during the '70's called the 'Les infantes terribles' project, which was designed to create the ultimate super-soldiers from the cloned DNA of 'Big Boss', the bad guy from the original Metal Gear games on the old NES (and whose remains the terrorists are asking for as part of their ransom). Snake and Liquid share the same genetic code and that's why Snake will also die from FoxDie. In fact, we learn that Gulf War syndrome is a byproduct of the genetic engineering, because all those soldiers over there were injected with stuff that essentially caused their genetic makeup to change to that of Big Boss's. Oh yeah, that Cyborg-Ninja that Snake encountered earlier? Turns out he's the brother of Naomi, one of the operatives on your team (who injected you with FoxDie to begin with), but he's not really her brother, he's actually her parents' killer!!! If you're wearing your tinfoil hat and have Art Bell's number on speeddial at this point don't be ashamed.

So as we can see, Kojima likes his plots complexo-to-the-maxo. But ultimately (and thankfully) not much of the plot is relevant to our discussion. Metal Gear Solid deals with a lot of themes not usually found in videogames. At the end of the story Snake knows that he's going to die from the FoxDie, but he doesn't know when. In fact, Naomi (who's brother was the Ninja) tells him that he'll die when his time is up, but until then he should "live life!" Kojima explores destiny and fate here. If Snake could die at any moment, then what's the difference if he didn't know he was infected at all? Should he let that control his life?

Kojima also deals here with finding purpose in one's life. Throughout the game Snake is constantly asked "what are you fighting for?" If he's just a mercenary, does he have actual beliefs, or is he purely just a gun-for-hire? During one of his conversations with Master Miller (who ultimately turns out to be Liquid in disguise), Miller says to him that the only difference between a murderer and a soldier is that the soldier is killing for a purpose. Do we need to give ourselves over to something greater to find purpose in life? At the end, Snake escapes from the compound with Meryl (the Colonel's niece) and decides he'd like to finally give his life purpose by giving himself to Meryl. Watch the final cinematic here (skip to 4:15 to get to the actual speech by Naomi addressing this topic).

Speaking of love, the scientist who Snake helped rescue earlier, Otacon, delivers one of the more awkward lines in the history of videogames. During his time being held hostage by the terrorists Otacon falls in love with his captor, the female terrorist sniper. Later in the game, after he's been freed by Snake, Otacon approaches Snake and asks him "Do you think love can bloom, even on a battlefield?" Though its hard not to chuckle when you hear this line, it's Kojima once again driving home the point that we need to live life for a purpose, that we can't just live for ourselves, but that we need to live for something greater. Watch the scene here.

So, is Metal Gear Solid art? It's hard to say. The game certainly has a strong message. While most other games in the same league (I'm looking at you Halo) have larger than life heroes and a grand, epic scale, their messages are ultimately pretty thin. But with Metal Gear Solid Kojima is actually trying to tell us something, that we need to give our lives purpose by giving it over to something greater, whether that purpose be a life of military service or love to another, and that we need to protect that love by avoiding war, weapons, and conflict. Unfortunately most of this message is conveyed during lengthy cinematic cutscenes which technically aren't part of the gameplay, but more like watching a movie. Perhaps as a compromise I could say that the game isn't art, but the story and message contained within is.

Until next time when I get into Metal Gear Solid 2 (which is even more crazy and complex), I'll leave you with this trailer which just premiered today for the upcoming Metal Gear expansion pack for the cutest game in the world, LittleBigPlanet.