I wonder how long things will last. In general. Things. This blog post—will you still be able to find it in another 200 years? My NES games—will I still be able to play Final Fantasy on the original hardware once I hit retirement age? The fun little notes my wife puts in my lunches--I'm saving them, but will anyone else, after I'm gone? Our legacy to our possible future children: a box full of Post-It Note doodles. What, you were expecting an inheritance?

I'm a pack rat, but not nearly as bad as I used to be. I've moved my collections of Who Knows What; Haven't Looked At It In A Decade from one home to the next over the last several years, and I've grown weary of hanging onto stuff that might become relevant again someday. When I trash or donate things, what happens to them? I wonder if that tiny Star Wars Dagobah playset I gave away is still in good hands, or whether it got swept away in a toy purge, half-eaten by the cat, or tossed into a forgotten container in a closet somewhere. Does a remnant of my first car still exist in a landfill somewhere?

People, even. At this moment, I have 4,895 subscribers on my YouTube channel. Will those same people be watching my videos a decade from now? Will I be making new videos a decade from now? Will there even be a place to upload new videos a decade from now? Part of me wants to still be recording when I'm an old man, playing Mega Man 38 for the grandkids of my original viewers, and complaining about how I can't get Final Fantasy to work on the original hardware.

Even if every tangible thing is destined to break down and wear out in time, how long will we be remembered—individuals, cultures, the human race itself? How far into the future will our influence reach? I think of all the time-travel stories where the littlest details of timeline disruption have no lasting impact on history, and then of all the time-travel stories where the tiniest action leads to a future where it rains doughnuts and Biff Tannen owns the world. It's interesting to think about the fate of our stuff and the legacy of the people around us. Makes the crucial seem less crucial, and the trivial seem less trivial.

My wife likes to sneak fun doodles into the lunches I take to work, and our recent adventure through some allegedly classic episodes of the British sci-fi series Doctor Who was the inspiration for this keeper:

Don't pretend like this isn't true. I can tolerate the occasional recycled plotline and I don't mind vintage science fiction, but toward the end of our adventure I was counting the minutes until some Mystery Monster showed up to terrorize a populace that had taken the Doctor and/or his companion(s) hostage. I excitedly looked forward to hearing the cool theme song, and did everything in my power to stay awake and engaged during the actual show. Yes, it's another terrifying green plastic bag monster, aaaahhh...zzzzzzz...

To be fair, we were at the mercy of Netflix, whose roster included a bizarre sampling of serials from 1963-1989. Instead of seeing complete story arcs and pivotal plotlines, we were exposed to a standalone bit of fluff here, the middle of a story arc there...and not a consistently random assortment, either, where each of the various Doctors was featured once or twice. There was a single serial each with the first, second, and seventh; two with the fifth; four with the third; nine with the fourth; and none with the sixth (unless you count any cameos they made in someone else's show). Confusing, to say the least, but varied enough that—statistically speaking—you'd think at least one episode in 25 years would pan out a little differently.

Still, I imagine Star Trek would seem pretty tiresome if you had two episodes from TOS, one from TAS, four from TNG, one from DS9, nine from VOY, and one from ENT, with no context whatsoever, and they're basically all the one where somebody gets replaced by an evil android. Or an evil shapeshifter. Or an evil transporter clone. Or an evil alternate universe twin. Or an evil mind parasite that takes over their body. Actually, I think I'm just describing all of The Original Series. Oh, well.

My wife, who grew up watching Doctor Who, did some research and was able to fill in the massive gaps between serials for me. Hearing about the Daleks, the Time War, the Doctor's various regenerations, the Master, the history of the TARDIS, and the fates of a few of the Doctor's companions was intriguing—it sounded like a great show; when could I start watching? Oh, right. I'd already seen 18 serials—which translates out to something like 24 hours of television, or an entire season of any other show.

If it were just me, I would've simply skipped ahead to the next Doctor at the first sign of tedium. I'm enough of a sci-fi junkie that I'll subject myself briefly to things I don't like for the sake of self-education, but to power through 24 hours of questionably entertaining entertainment, and then agree to watch through the entire new series with the ninth Doctor and his successors...that takes the kind of insanity that only comes from being an in-law.

It wasn't just my wife, but her whole family who grew up on Doctor World Health Organization. Any time we go to visit, it's a guarantee there'll be at least one extended conversation about the show, which is typically where I bust out the Game Boy and they lose me for the rest of the weekend. Both for my own edification as a sci-fi fan, and as a son/brother/nephew-in-law who would like to be able to communicate with his extended family beyond what's for dinner and no I'm not playing Mega Man again, it's important to me to press on.

But oh, is it a challenge.

I liked Hartnell, the first Doctor, well enough. Despite the awkwardness of jumping right into a story ("The Aztecs") with no idea who these characters were, where they came from, or why they were gallivanting across space and time, the overall quality of the first serial was pretty good for its time. None of the characters left too much of an impression on me, but as I'd soon discover, that's not necessarily a bad thing—I'd rather have low-key heroes and villains than abrasively prominent ones.

Troughton, the second Doctor, struck me as a cartoon. Combined with his screamy companion What's-Her-Face, "The Mind Robber" was a bit painful to watch with how over-the-top some of the performances were, especially against such a mishmash of antagonists and supporting players—it felt less like a land of imagination and more like a land of, "Well, I guess we could throw this in." On the plus side, Upbeat Scottish Guy was the first Doctor Who character I liked, and not merely liked "well enough."

The third Doctor, Pertwee, remains my favorite. Intelligent, rational, and stern-yet-gentle in a fatherly sort of way. I liked the Brigadier he served with. I liked the woman who seemed to be shaping up to be his first companion. I liked that I finally got to see a first episode with a new doctor, "Spearhead from Space," so I had some context for a change. Things were looking up, I thought to myself.

Then the first companion was replaced by Jo, who aggravatingly caused more trouble than she resolved, constantly ignoring or countermanding the Doctor's orders and failing to exercise basic common sense. This made "The Three Doctors" and "The Carnival of Monsters" a little less enjoyable, but at least those episodes began to showcase some of the more interesting aspects of the Doctor Who universe (the diversity of creatures, for instance) and exercise more of the show's storytelling potential (finding an excuse to get Hartnell, Troughton, and Pertwee working together was brilliant).

Then came "The Green Death," and with it, a decade of shoddy writing. Pacing slowed to a crawl as the serials became less about telling a good story and more about keeping the Doctor detained or waiting for the Mystery Monster to bump off all the expendable characters before the Doctor takes any real action. So much padding for so little plot.

Thus began the reign of Tom Baker as the fourth Doctor, who I understand is a fan favorite. I must have missed all the fun episodes, because most of what I remember about him is how harshly he interacted with his inferiors, his distinctive scarf and hair, and that trademark grin that he flashed right before doing something needlessly reckless. I liked K-9, loved the tribal alien something-or-other companion, gradually warmed up to Romana I, frowned at how Romana II was starting to remind me of Jo, and was excited to see four consecutive serials pertaining to a single storyline—finding the pieces of the Key to Time. I grew weary of the Doctor's constant disregard for the people and situations around him, and had trouble getting to know him when his personality was so inconsistent—he'd go from angry to frightened to laughing in the face of death and back again.

It doesn't help that "The Ark in Space," "Horror of Fang Rock," and "The Power of Kroll," which all transpired during this era, were some of the most plodding, unproductive serials yet. I also admit to falling asleep more frequently during the second half of the Netflix roster; not sure if this is the cause or the symptom of my displeasure with these shows.

Credit where credit is due, however: "The Pirate Planet" was hands-down the best serial of the lot—and not simply better than the others, but legitimately good sci-fi in its own right. Good action, meaningful character interactions, great pacing, some humor, a few plot twists, many interesting locations, memorable villains, and plenty of creative situations and solutions. All around, a very well-told story and solidly entertaining television...which shouldn't be much of a surprise, because it was written by The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy scribe Douglas Adams. If I can't call myself a Doctor Who fan, it's not because the ingredients aren't there; it's because the people behind the camera rely too heavily on, "Look! Weird stuff! And the characters are inherently likable!" to sell the story.

The fifth Doctor, Davison, was a refreshing amalgamation of Pertwee's controlled cleverness and Tom Baker's spontaneity—he might throw himself haphazardly into a situation, but at least he seemed to have an idea of how to get out of it. I'm inclined to say he's my second-favorite Doctor, though his companions were...tolerable. I was not completely enthralled by Snippy, Whiny, and Well-Meaning-But-Impetuous Boy-Child. I also wasn't too keen on either of the serials I saw him in, "The Visitation" and "The Caves of Androzani”; the former would've been more appealing to me as a straight-up "androids have invaded 17th-century England" story instead of some convoluted Terileptil plot to wipe out humanity with rats and bracelets, and the latter focused so much on political intrigue and military strategy that the Doctor and his companion were almost incidental characters up until the very end. Doctor...Who? Oh, the main character. If you say so.

Netflix thoughtfully left out any episodes starring the sixth Doctor, Colin Baker, so you're getting off the hook with a sentence instead of a paragraph.

By the time we got to the seventh Doctor, McCoy (I'm a Time Lord, not a doctor!), I was hoping for a departure from what I'd seen so far; a reinvention, if you will, or at least a storytelling style more in line with the better-paced, character-focused sci-fi I grew up with from the late '80s. Instead, I got "The Curse of Fenric": same ol', same ol', with better film quality. And oppressively bombastic music. It sounded like a bad Sega Genesis game. Like Hartnell, I didn't get much of an impression from McCoy, but that's also because I was too busy shaking my head at the parade of fools who chose to gaze in horror at the slowly approaching sea vampire zombie fish people instead of running away at quadruple their speed. Ace, his companion, was another obnoxiously independent tagalong; I don't mind tough guy/tough girl characters, but all I can think of is her yelling at the doctor about how he never tells her anything, and her flirting with a guard in the most incomprehensibly flirtatious way I've ever seen—like, using something to the effect of, "my, the sun is comprised of helium," as a pickup line. Odd, self-centered, and prone to emotional outbursts is not a character trait combination I find appealing.

Skipping over the eighth Doctor, McGann, due to his absence from Netflix, my wife and I proceeded to the new series of Doctor Who, watching the first two episodes with Eccleston, the ninth Doctor. Well, he wasn't in our living room with us; we were the ones watching him on the screen.

Anydigression.

This Doctor looks destined to be my third favorite, possibly slipping past Davison for second place. He's passionate, efficient, and mysterious (but not irritatingly so). Likewise, Rose is on track to become my favorite companion, or at least in my top three. A little rebellious, a little inquisitive, a little sentimental, a little overwhelmed...a little of everything, making her feel more like a well-rounded and real person than the previous companions, who took two or three character traits and ran with them.

What I like about this new series is that it takes the time to develop the characters, hints at things yet-to-be-revealed, pays tribute to previous shows, keeps a steady pace, and goes beyond the needs of the episode to consider the ramifications of an entire universe filled with weird aliens and time travel and whatnot. What I don't like about this new series is that the climax of each episode superficially creates drama by putting the characters in a tight spot and stretching out their inaction for far longer than necessary, too many people get needlessly killed off, and the aliens are way too weird for me. I appreciate that the aliens are far more diverse than the large, speechless beasts of Star Wars and the multitudinous ridgy humanoids of Star Trek, but...talking skin? Gross.

Overall, I'm liking the direction of this new series, but there's still something about the execution that's holding me back from professing I'm a Whovian, or a Whoite, or whatever fans are called. Who-heads? I suspect, once again, that the writers are responsible. Everything else—acting, costumes, makeup, lighting, set design, you name it—is just as good as it's ever been, if not better. I'm not sure yet about the storytelling; the body count of the innocent is already too high, and overreliance on manufactured tension makes for tedious viewing (see: The Hobbit).

As a side note, in the first episode of the new series, Mystery Monsters terrorize the neighborhood, and the Doctor gets captured by them. The more things change...

It occurs to me that, after my last post, it might be beneficial to establish that I'm not altogether opposed to everything new and modern. It's true that I tend to live in the past, watching television shows that've been off the air for a decade and reading books well after they've been moved off the New Releases shelf, but that's not to say I have an aversion to everything new—after all, everything old was new at some point.

To help illustrate my lack of ill will toward all forms of modernity, I've compiled a list of my top five favorite films from the last five years. It's too early to have a Top Five list for video games (I haven't played half the ones in my library), I think I've only read four books from the last five years, and my other big passions (namely, food and music) would require more time than I'd like to spend researching. Off the top of my head, Mere Churchianity, The Gastronomy of Marriage, All the President's Pastries, Mega Man 9, Muramasa: The Demon Blade, cherry-flavored Tic Tacs, and Foster the People have been welcome additions to my life. Unless Wikipedia's correct and the Tic Tacs are from 2007, in which case I should probably throw out the package I have in the car.

Clever segue...

Nathaniel's Top Five Favorite Films of 2008-2013:

How to Train Your Dragon (2010) - Funny, likable characters, an appealing animation style, and seriously one of the coolest climactic battle sequences I've seen in a movie. My wife and I saw Iron Man 2 afterwards, and we both agreed that, for as explosive as the film was, this children's movie had a better final boss. It's that good.

The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (2009) - This was a surprise; I'm normally not into gritty crime thrillers and dramas that don't involve spaceships and sentient computers, but the original Swedish adaptation of the book series everyone else was reading left a big impression on me (the extended version in particular). In addition to being one of the most shockingly "adult" movies I've ever seen (remember, this is the guy who just put How to Train Your Dragon in his top five), it's not often that I've seen such a unique, complex, and compelling female lead as Lisbeth Salander (and such an incredible performance, at that). Between her, the storytelling style, the twists and turns of the plot, and the novelty of being the first Swedish film I think I've ever seen, everything came together to make Dragon Tattoo such a fascinating experience that even I couldn't help but get sucked into it.

Inception (2010) - The most satisfyingly cerebral action flick I'd seen in a long time. Interesting concept, great execution, and very pretty. Also nice to see Tom Hardy and a grown-up Joseph Gordon-Levitt doing something completely different from their respective roles in Star Trek: Nemesis and 3rd Rock from the Sun, which is all I'd known them from previously.

Oblivion (2013) - Similar to Inception, Oblivion was the most satisfying science fiction flick I'd seen in a long time. I'd been sorely missing the kind of escapist sci-fi that, in the first five minutes, establishes a sense that this is a universe unlike our own. Decent sci-fi throws hovercars and funny-looking aliens at the viewer; good sci-fi develops settings and situations unlike anything we've ever encountered in real life, but with enough traces of reality that the viewer can still relate. Despite any of the film's shortcomings, Oblivion sticks with me because of the thought-provoking world it created—and great sci-fi keeps you thinking about it long after the credits roll. Plus, the film's got a killer soundtrack by M83, so you can guess what would be on my Top Five list for music, if I had one.

The Avengers (2012) - Ah, the one movie on my list that doesn't end in -ion or have the word "dragon" in it. While I think I might like Iron Man (2008) just a smidge more, The Avengers represents the culmination of film collaboration the likes of which Hollywood has never seen, unless there's another five movies out there with independent storylines that were subtly woven together to form the groundwork for a single film starring all of the other films' characters. The Avengers isn't just an engagingly comedic and action-packed spectacle in its own right; it's proof that movies can be so much more than a string of sequels, remakes, and reboots. The shared continuity of a cinematic universe has been long overdue—television's been at it forever, from Eureka and Warehouse 13 to Frasier, Wings, and Cheers—and you can tell the people involved have actually picked up a comic book before. I think Hollywood is finally realizing that the source material is what makes the source material popular; radically changing it to appeal to a moviegoing audience defeats the purpose.

Honorable Mentions:
2008 - Horton Hears a Who!, Kung Fu Panda
2009 - Watchmen, District 9
2010 - Despicable Me, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, The King's Speech
2011 - The Smurfs (Kidding! Kidding. Everything I've seen has been decent or pretty good, but not honorable-mentiony.)
2012 - Les Misérables
2013 - I didn't see it in 3D, but does Jurassic Park count?

"General bitterness commentary." That's how one of my friends has described my recent creative work. It's true, you know.

I've always been something of a perfectionist, so complaining about things that are less-than-perfect comes naturally to me. Still, I can do more than complain. I prefer to do more than complain. I used to be a very laid-back, happy-go-lucky sort of guy. Humor used to flow easily into my writing. What happened to me?

Perhaps a better question is, "What happened to the world around me?"

Anybody who knew me in elementary, middle, or high school and has seen me even remotely recently could probably tell you I really haven't changed much. I'm taller, wider, and beardier, but still a theatrical goofball with an overactive imagination and a cabinet full of Spaghetti-O's. I'm still a terrible backseat gamer, a goody two-shoes who can barely lie to keep a birthday party a secret, and a squeamish liability at a horror movie. I have the same lack of fashion sense (thankfully I'm through my sweatpants-in-summer phase), essentially the same hairstyle (with a few exceptions, like the floofy ridiculousness featured on my first driver's license), and the same penchant for playfully flipping other people's ponytails and pigtails whenever they're within reach (long hair is magical). I'm not absolutely identical to the me who walked into his first day of fourth grade and threw up on the floor, but I'm not too far off.

I also tend to be more forthcoming about personal information than I should be. Maybe I should work on that.

The more I think about what I've been writing, the more I'm realizing what the root of my bitterness is. Everything that makes me happy is being systematically distorted into something that makes me unhappy. No doubt there's more to it than that, but I cope better with Big Life Stuff and the stress of being a so-called "grown up" when my sources of entertainment function as escapism, and not something to be escaped from.

I've stated before that it usually takes time for me to warm up to change. I am not instinctively opposed to it, but I don't often see the need for it. Don't fix it if it ain't broke; make it better, not just different; that sort of thing.

Over the last several years, I've watched my three favorite entertainment franchises--Star Trek, Metroid, and Mega Man—veer off toward the boundaries of what I'll tolerate as a fan. I've endured an endless parade of website redesigns that seem to cater more to the people designing them than the people using them—Facebook, YouTube, Gmail, Pandora, and Blogger have undergone everything from minor tweaks to major overhauls, inevitably replacing something I love with something that annoys me. I've seen more and more large corporations—Capcom, Nintendo, Microsoft, Borders—make decisions that call into question whether they know anything about their consumers.

I've witnessed geek culture get absorbed into the mainstream with The Big Bang Theory, 4th Edition Dungeons & Dragons, and Mega Man 10's Easy Mode; now I'm just like everybody else, and my geek cred means nothing because we're all geeks now. I've watched the fan community create so many mashups of Firefly, Zelda, Star Wars, Calvin & Hobbes, and Doctor Who that there's barely any meaning left to them—what was once a charming novelty has become a mass-produced commodity. I've heard more and more music on the radio that hooks me with a great instrumental introduction and sends me away screaming when the vocals come in.

Too much change. Too little improvement.

And too much time spent agonizing over the few major merits in a sea of incredible flaws. If only they had fixed this, or left out that, we could've had something more amazing than anything before it. I miss the days when I could simply like or dislike something without deliberating over the pros and cons. It's draining to write about the things I love when they're also the things I hate, but the things I merely like usually don't get me fired up enough to talk about them unprompted.

Thus, you have my general bitterness commentary. However, if I can get off my soapbox, I'm sure I can also get out of my...
um...complainy pants. Bitterness boxers? I should stop gravitating toward clothing.

Effective as soon as I feel like it, this blog will be taking a more positive direction. I still reserve the right to complain, but I'd like to do so in a manner that's more humorous and thoughtful than it is straight-up cathartic. I feel more like myself when writing with a smile on my face, and I haven't done enough of that lately. I take requests, so let me know if there's anything you'd like to see.

Ah, May. While my creative contributions and gaming accomplishments might not have been as visible as in previous months, plenty was going on behind the scenes: longer posts requiring more time to pull together, a D&D session for which to prepare, a new computer to set up, another 20 hours or so exploring Mega Man X: Command Mission, powering through Netflix's vintage Dr. Who offerings with my wife, and the return to a regular recording schedule for my Mega Man 7 playthrough, to name a few.

This Blog:

I feel much better after writing these posts. A rationalization of why it's been over a year since my last real YouTube video for my channel, a review of Star Trek Into Darkness that helped me sort out my thoughts on the franchise reboot in general, and cathartic complaining about Nintendo, Microsoft, YouTube, and King's Quest IV.

- Retrospective: April 2013
- The Objective Objective
- Delving Into Darkness
- Consumer Consideration
- The Errors of Rosella

GameCola:

Most of my GameCola time was devoted to editing articles and writing this one post, which is the inevitable result of researching nice Flash games and realizing you've already come across enough of the not-so-nice ones to populate an entire column.

Columns:
- [NSFW] Flash Flood: Games for Terrible People

YouTube:

Yay! Another installment of the livestreaming Mega Man marathon I did at the end of 2012 with my buddy Dash Jump and my wife Z-Saber. If this doesn't hold you over until my solo playthrough of MM7 comes out, I don't know what will.

DashJumpTV:
- Megathon 2012: Mega Man 7 (SNES)

The Backloggery:

A bit of housekeeping this month; I discovered a few new games I had never cataloged when transferring everything to my new computer (some indie games from a Humble Bundle that were independent downloads, and not on Steam as I'd thought).
I also started hacking away at more of the unfinished games weighing down my collection—one I didn't own anymore, one I never owned to begin with, one that was a duplicate, one that doesn't have an ending (and I'd never get good enough to beat it anyhow), two fangames I'd tried out of curiosity but didn't feel like bothering with further, and one game I could beat, if I felt like wasting entire hours of my life on endless fetch quests and atrocious controls. See if you can figure out which is which.

As has been my tradition with my previous Flash Flood columns, all the new games I reported on got added as well, whether or not I should admit to having beaten them. The last item of particular note is the completion of Portal 2, made possible by finally finding the time to finish the co-op mode with my friend from overseas. Nothing like catching up with the bandwagon two years later (which, for me, is actually a wild improvement over the norm).

New:
- Aquaria  (PC)
- Dota 2  (Steam)
- Infectionator!  (Brwsr)
- Karoshi: Suicide Salaryman  (Brwsr)
- Kick a Migrant  (Brwsr)
- Light People on Fire  (Brwsr)
- Lugaru  (PC)
- Penumbra Overture  (PC)
- Tofu Hunter  (Brwsr)
- World of Goo  (PC)

Started:
- King's Quest IV: The Perils of Rosella  (PC)
- Mega Man ZX Advent  (NDS)
- Star Wars: Yoda Stories  (GBC)

Beat:
- Infectionator!  (Brwsr)
- New Super Mario Bros. Wii  (Wii)

Completed:
- Karoshi: Suicide Salaryman  (Brwsr)
- Kick a Migrant  (Brwsr)
- King's Quest IV: The Perils of Rosella  (PC)
- Light People on Fire  (Brwsr)
- Portal 2  (Steam)
- Tofu Hunter  (Brwsr)

Removed:
- Jezzball  (PC)
- Lemmings  (PC)
- Rockman 7 FC  (PC)
- Rockman 8 FC  (PC)
- Star Wars: Yoda Stories  (GBC)
- Ultima I: The First Age of Darkness  (PC)
- Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego?  (PC)

We'll see what June brings, but I wouldn't mind another month like this.