The Michigan Daily - michigandaily.com Tuesday, September 23, 2008 -8 Music transcends at Lake Sebago T dolin w apart fr even a P it. It co slouche the scra stringe( ment, h and scr: like the on a cou day-old bandan around There's the bact tambou ers. The of thenc backgro of a win trees. A ting the photo, h hair lon shaven. look aw Since I'm nev' again a continu The s Maine a erature English dents, 1 called V O of s Sebago, climbin; poems a no -ma with an before s showers least on studied Emily D and Lou We mad jagged r the Atla played t the free: morning But it and I'm We have cell pho: fuller w don't ea no fully Arbor fo might h climb m either. B is there. about it. The o to the El in Ypsila a show.] smoky a of liquor with a C old-scho back ant musical enginee by Explo we wait liners to (accordi Bathgat MacInto he first time I shaved my rather famous, which was some- head and when I first thing I hadn't been aware of in learned to play the man- Maine. To me, he was my mando- ere only a couple of days lin teacher; to others, a face on the om each other. There's Starbucks Pick of the Week card. olaroid picture to prove While I was playing pool with stains me, sitting and some friends who had also gone d over to NELP, Chris came out to the tched bar with a bunch of whiskey d instru- shots, said he knew the bar- air short tender and said we should do a uffy toast. I ended up passing on the bristles . shots, but we did a toast any- sple- way, and then sat down with a beard, IVLg'NEY pitcher of beer and started talk- na tied ing about everything that had my neck. POW happened since the end of June. a piano in For him, tour schedules, new k of the photo covered in jobs, new vinyl EPs not making trines and avocado shak- it to print; for me, art history re's the wooden paneling classes, my publishing jobs, not abin I'm sitting in in the having enough time to play as 'und, and a blurry view much music as I'd like. We sat dow framing hemlock in a group like this talking for nd then there's Chris, sit- a while - me, Chris and some re on the left side of the other NELP friends who steadily olding his own mandolin, trickled into the bar - until we g and shaggy, face clean- had formed a large group. He looks intent, focused. I I knew everyone in our group kward. - well; most of them had seen my then I've decided A.) that personal writing, seen me naked, er going to shave my head seen me in the kitchen up to my nd B.) that I'm going to elbows in bacon grease. It was e playing mandolin. intimate in this bar, strangely napshot was taken in meaningful like a Christmas t the New England Lit- family gathering before the fam- Program, an immersive ily broke out the brandy and got program with 40 stu- too tipsy. When Chris got on 2 staff, at a remote camp stage, he picked up his dobro and Vohelo on the edge of Lake introduced himself modestly, soft-spoken. He said he was from Ypsilanti, introduced the band n~e girl's tale and he rolled with the cat calls from the audience as he began his traying from first song of the evening. While he played "Salt Year," he urban life. looked me in the eyes, straight- faced, singing about regret with lines like "Now I lace my wine with ginger." And when the Maine. We learned by bass and the drums kicked in g mountains, memorizing behind him, the subwoofers on nd journaling. We had the speakers growled. The music il or telephone contact shook my ribs. Some of us sat yone, played instruments down on the floor right next to upper, took very, very few the low stage, watching him as - I tried to take one at he sang. ce every five days - and The Elbow Room was a Ralph Waldo Emerson, strangely holy experience, even ickinson, Galway Kinnel with the smoke veils and the dark ise Gluck, among others. lighting and the prevalence of e 3 a.m. stir-frys, scaled G&Ts with red stir straws. I felt ocks jutting towards at home, like we were back in ntic, ate walnut butter, Maine living with one another, he saw, dove naked into like Chris was only playing music zing lake at 6:30 in the before supper as we waited for g. and smelled the beginnings to 's several months later, the evening's shepherd's pie. But back in Ann Arbor now. the smell of supper was replaced showers in the city and with the smell of sweat and stale ses, and heads are now beer; the Maine sunset's ambient ith hair than before. I light by the hot blue-tinted stage t as much now (there's lights. -stocked kitchen in Ann This could have been a normal r me, although Wohelo night of drinking and stumbling ave had one), and I don't home, but because of one musi- ountains every week cian who taught me my first man- ut here is here, and there dolin tunes, it was different. The There's nothingI can do evening's music wasn't so much an experience, the bass-rhythm ther night, though, I went background to some drunken [bow Room, a small bar escapades, but it was something anti, to watch Chris play important that had been passed It was your typical fare: down to me by a scruffy-looking tmosphere, three shelves guy with a microphone to his , a pool table overhung mouth. amel-brand lamp, some Music can be something that ol arcade games in the connects people, makes families d a small stage inside for out of a group of writers in the performances. The sound wilderness, out of one mandolin r played song selections player and a girl whose head had sions from the Sky while been shaved a day ago on the edge ed for the show's head- of Lake Sebago, Maine. to These are actually photo stills from "Tropic Thunder 2: Rise of Taj. A few good explosions NeN ele 'em ex "M w game combines general to Solano, both the gen- eral and the tycoon try to kill you, nments of shoot- but obviously fail as you jump into Lake Maracaibo. Shortly 1-Up wrfare and afterward, you discover that Solano and his general orches- plosions aplenty trated a coup that overthrew the Venezuelan government. And so By JAMIE BLOCK begins your revenge mission: Kill Daily Arts Writer Solano and anyone who stands in your way. ercenaries 2: World in "Mercenaries 2" is a shooter, so Flames" is good for one thing: blowing shit up. Sure, there's a failed attempt at a story, and a lot of people shoot at each other, but none of these elements even come close to matching the explosions. As one of the loading screens states, "Remember, everything can be destroyed." The game is set in Venezuela where you play as one of three bad-ass mercenaries. The story begins when a wealthy Venezu- elan oil tycoon, named Solano, hires you to retrieve a captured general. After you return the expect to do a whole lot of it. ** Combatcontrols are simple and Mercenaries intuitive, mak- 2:World in ing the game easy enough Flames for a novice X to pick up but Xbox 360 still interesting ElectronicArts enough for an experienced virtual gunslinger. There are several different guns, providing endless ways to fill your enemies with lead. Despite this, shooting quickly becomes bor- ing as most enemies don't stand start playing, who were ng to the poster), "Chris e w/ Matt Jones and Greg sh." My friend Chris was Pow actually just got lost in the Arb and thought she was at NELP. Console her at poww@umich.edu. a chance in gunfights no matter which gun you use. The game's most challenging and fun battles involve tanks and gun-towers, each of which are best dealt with using good old-fashioned C4 explosives. The graphic designers for "Mercenaries 2" had a clear set of priorities. Certain things are beautifully rendered: the main characters, the landscapes and, most notably, the explosions. In contrast, most soldiers appear homogeneous and have unrealis- tic facial features. Buildings have no texture and are extremely pixilated, especially up close. If each of the three little pigs' hous- es appeared in "Mercenaries 2," you couldn't tell them apart. Vehicular manslaughter: Vehicles are one of the most enjoyable parts of the game, but mostly because they operate so unrealistically. If you enter a vehicle with very little health, and the vehicle is instantly blown up, instead of dying, you will probably gain health. When you enter a vehicle belonging to a faction, if you don't do anything suspicious for a while, people will think you belong to that faction as long as you're in the vehicle. Most of the time, this is an innovative, sensible feature. However, let's say Solano's men are shooting you, and you hijack one of their tanks in front of their eyes, you can just sit in the tank for a few seconds, and the sol- diers will instantly forget what they just saw. You can then use the tank to blow up the forgetful soldiers or anything else nearby. Obviously, if you start exploding the amnesiacs, they'll realize you don't work for Solano ... at least for a few seconds. I shoot, therefore I, wait, what?: Artificial intelli- gence is always a tricky business, and it got the best of "Mercenar- ies 2." For example, you can walk up behind an enemy soldier man- ning the gun turret of a vehicle and shoot him in the back. He'll flinch a little, but otherwise won't move except to fall to his death when you finally put him out of his poorly-programmed misery. Even when soldiers' A.I. is working correctly, there's no shortage of flaws. Your enemies' decisions to find and leave cover seem to be completely unrelated to your actions. Also, no matter where you throw a grenade, your enemies will not see it. However, the game has introduced some impressive concepts to the A.I. If you shoot up a friendly fac- tion's base, any survivors will report your actions via walkie- talkie and reinforcements will be brought in. Also, enemies consid- er the path you're running when launching rockets, so expect to be blown up a number of times. We've heard it all before: An angel dies every time someone in "Mercenaries 2" speaks. Voice acting is painfully bad as well as notably disjointed from the character's animations. Most annoyingly, the developers decided to have everyone speak, but only gave each kind of char- acter two or three phrases. The contrived and irritating nature of this is best seen when standing next to a random civilian. Every 20 seconds or so he will echo his phrase, which usually pertains to how hot it is. This will continue for all eternity or until you gouge out your ear drums. Who's the boom king?: Even objects that don't explode in real life canbe blown to smith- ereens in "Mercenaries 2." If you grenade a tree, for instance, it will launch straight into the air and the leaves will detach in a fiery mess. Among the biggest explosions are those caused by nuclear strikes, complete with a mushroom cloud and radia- tion emission, which you call in using your friendly jet pilot. But because these are dropped from a plane, they lack the element of, "I caused this with-my own hands." The most fun thing to do in the whole game is blow up the giant fuel drums using grenades. The ensuing explosion is a beautiful mix of golden oranges, fiery reds, flying shrapnel and the death of your enemies. The earth trem- bles and bystanders shield their eyes from the blinding flash. This is destruction atits finest. At best, "Mercenaries 2" is a pyromaniac'splayground.Expect to stray from the plot early and often to see what there is to destroy. If you do, you'll probably have a lot of fun. If you want ah engaging story with compelling characters and exciting adven- tures, you'd best look elsewhere. ARTS IN BRIEF Television New CW dramedy piggybacks on stale and tired formula "Privileged" Tuesday at 9 p.m. CW With the colossal success of "Gossip Girl," the CW has appar- ently deemed it necessary to add to its lineup yet another dramedy cen- tering on rich youths with too much time on their hands. And so "Privi- leged" was born. Megan Smith (Joanna Garcia, "Reba") is an aspiring writer fresh out of Yale with a certain pep best described as "irritating to the point of inciting violence." After being fired from her job in New York, Smith relocates to her hometown of Palm Beach, Fla., a tutor of two spoiled twins, Sage (Ashley New- brough, "Degrassi: the Next Gen- eration") and Rose (Lucy Hale, "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2"). The superficial dialogue and contrived storylines are enough to kill any interest in "Privileged." If that weren't enough, the producers have decided to include a sound- track composed mainly of Lily Allen and other "carefree" songs which only underscore the stupidity of the show. "Privileged" seems to be a vague- ly cautionary tale about the wasted existence that easy wealth can fos- ter. But the show doesn't convey this message well, because it spends too much time glamorizing the glossy allure of money and the status accompanying it to give the show any moral depth. This shouldn't be much of a surprise, though. Bratty teens get better ratings than soap- box speech, and the CW knows that better than anyone. JOHN DAAVETTILA 0 9 9 p