Just recently, I read two manga series one after another – both dealing with Christian themes, but vastly different from each other. The first was Little House with an Orange Roof (a.k.a. Orange Yane no Chiisana Ie), and the second was Let’s Bible. The contrast between the two serves to illustrate an important point.

There is a difference between using Christian themes as a variation of a medium’s standard tropes, and using the standard tropes of a medium to explain Christian themes. One applies the Form of Christianity, but leaves the underlying structure and content unchanged. The other leaves the forms of the medium unchanged, but applies Christianity to change the structure and content. In simpler terms, Let’s Bible just uses Christian names and symbolism as a thin layer for what is in all essence a shounen action-comedy series. On the other hand, Orange Roof starts with a typical seinen romantic comedy setting, but gradually introduces Christian themes and messages through the behaviour of its characters. You can easily tell the difference once you read them. The creator of Orange Roof is a practising Christian – he himself gives testimony in his author comments at the back of every chapter (chapter 10’s comments are translated, for an example). Let’s Bible, on the other hand, is drawn by a pair of Koreans artist, who seem like they absorbed the surface knowledge of what the Gospel means and the major characters of the New Testament (probably from cultural acquaintance), but are not actually practising Christians themselves. Or perhaps they are practising Christians, but have not found a way to integrate their faith into their works.

To really create a good Christian manga, you need to have a strong background in the techniques of the medium, an understanding of its tropes and how to use them to tell a good story. And then beyond that, you must really think about the message, and how to best encapsulate it in a way that FITS with both the properties of the message, and the properties of the medium you are using. Orange Roof did it well. Let’s Bible did it terribly, because it fit the medium, but didn’t fit the message. A third manga, created by Americans, called Serenity, also tried it… that one fit the message, but didn’t really fit the medium. It was okay, but because it was targeted at American teens, there were certain stylistic choices that moved it away from pure manga and into a different sort of comic. It fit THAT comic medium very well, and I think it thus was a success on that level (as also proven by sales), but the medium was no longer that of manga.

In order to really create good Christian media content, you need to find a common ground where both the medium and message can meet and synergise properly to create something unique. The themes of Christianity must go deeper than surface level – in fact, sometimes they can be buried under the guise of what seems to be typical fare for the medium, but become more explicit as you delve deeper or further into it.

This is the problem that I also see in the Christian games industry. The reason why so many Christian games are bad is because the creators either lack a deep enough understanding of the medium they are working with (Christian educators who are trying to make games because they think the people they want to reach out to would be interested in anything if it comes in a “game” package), or they do not have a deep understanding of the message they want to bring (gamers who want to enjoy the same sort of games they’ve always played, but slap “Christian” labels on it so that they can feel justified in front of their non-gamer Christian family).

AND IT’S NOT GOING TO WORK.

You can’t slap on a “Christian” label to a standard hardcore game and expect that it would be good. Likewise, you can’t just package a “game” around what is essentially a bunch of Sunday school material and expect that it would be appealing to the audience. What is needed is a fundamental approach to the problem of designing Christian games – you need a deep understanding of the properties of the medium and the properties of the message before you can truly design a good (and fun) Christian game. The current games out there enjoy some limited success because of the sheer hunger of people for such games. But it’s limited. I believe that when we can see the real thing, we’ll appreciate what the difference is between a slapdash approach and a fundamental design approach. Unfortunately, that time may be a long time in coming.

I completely and thoroughly approve of this couple, and I’m very happy for both of them. During the wedding ceremony, something went “click” inside of me, and I felt myself saying internally, “Ah, this is just RIGHT. They are meant for each other.” It’s a very special and rare feeling that I’ve only experienced at one other wedding (Bee’s one), and so I’m sure that this marriage will be special.

The wedding ceremony itself I had mixed feelings about. On the one hand, it was impressive and unique – Jason sang her down the aisle during the wedding ceremony, and they had written their own wedding vows, tacking on about four or five paragraphs to the traditional script – but on the other hand, it was almost TOO showy, and I didn’t know many people there. Still. I managed to have a good time, and despite the showiness of the atmosphere, the speeches that were made were all warm and down-to-earth homey. Maybe that’s what happens when the boy-next-door marries the girl-next-door. The families have known each other for a long time now, and there’s a special bond between old friends.

In any case, I’m very very happy for them, and I hope to find something like that for my marriage as well, someday.

Big Bang’s MVs are always so interesting.

The Stars Like Dust was the first Asimov book I read, back in Garden International School, when I was about 14 years old. I remember coming across it in the secondary school library, and read it a few times throughout my school year. But ever since I left school, I’ve been unable to buy, borrow or steal a copy for 10 years… until now. I saw it being a released in a new edition at Borders bookstore and snapped it up immediately. It’s basically a simple space-adventure story, with an ending that is a little propangandic for the United States / democracy. Isaac Asimov himself had remarked that it was the book that he least liked among all 100+ stories that he had written. Maybe that’s why I haven’t been able to find a reprint of the book anywhere until now, 17 years after he died. It even says in the flyleaf that it was published with permission from the Estate of Isaac Asimov, so I’m guessing his relatives must have finally agreed to it.

But I don’t care… even if Asimov himself hated the book, I loved it, and still do, despite its’ flaws. No one can hate the first book that introduced them to an author they love. The Stars Like Dust was that for me.

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1. Sometimes trying to arrange for a competitive advantage backfires on you. There was this one team which was hastily formed one week later than the rest due to scheduling and grouping problems, so I tried to pick the best members from other groups to compensate for the 1-week loss. The group ended up having three technical people, which was supposed to give them an edge in the second, computer game project. It didn’t really work too well, since they all wanted to do the same job, and it produced an imbalanced game at the end (high technical polish, low design values). Interdisciplinary variety is still best.
2. I need to improve my turnaround time on grading assignments. This semester was terrible in terms of keeping to deadlines for me. Admittedly, my workload tripled since I got assigned a second module to help teach, plus started my Master’s course. But not being able to get feedback and marks back to the students on time resulted in them not performing as well as they could have for the subsequent assignments. I have to improve my marking-turnaround time to three days or less.
3. Need to spend more time contacting students and using email to leave a paper trail. I was a bit slack in following up on students this semester if they missed classes. Partly it was because I was just too distracted and busy with other things, but still… it’s part of doing due diligence that I need to improve. Professionalism, and all that.

What to teach if there was an Advanced Game Design course:

• Player types, play styles and demographics (Bartle’s test)
• Emotions of play (Lazarro’s Four Keys)
• Difficulty curves – how to balance them across levels (Rule of 3? Mario’s 4 stages). Difference between hardcore and casual difficulty curves. Games should be forgiving of errors, but not easy to perfect.
• Choices – How to weight them properly. Not every choice should be equally important. How to manage cognitive load of player. Grokking. (Raph Koster’s Theory of Fun)
• Dynamics of play – types of interactions between different players, playing styles, how different player power configurations (asymmetric, zero-sum, etc.) lead to different dynamics.

Soon, with rival kingdoms at war, political skulduggery, sorcery and secrets hidden for generations coming to light, and even rising tensions between the humans who birthed her and the intelligent Royal Beasts who raised her, Firekeeper goes through a whole host of adventures in lands fascinating and foreign. What I really appreciate about this series is the depth of the world-building involved.

Lindskold may not always tell the most riveting or action-packed of stories, and the plot sometimes staggers along without being as smooth-flowing as some other writers, but the sheer depth and complexity of the thought that has been put into the world that Firekeeper inhabits is mind-boggling.Whole societal structures, belief systems, languages and syntax, geography, history and magic are created and viewed through the eyes of the simple girl who thinks she’s a wolf, and finds out that she’s something much more complex. The clash of cultures and worldviews is something that comes across very well, and it’s a treat to see how deftly that’s handled by the author. It’s a world that rivals Tolkien’s Middle-Earth for its depth and richness (with the possible exception of Elvish poetry).

And the author takes advantage of that excellently. Time and time again, Firekeeper and her wolfish companion Blind Seer are whisked away to foreign lands, where they have to deal with even more complex societies, where politics, magic and religion mix in strange new forms. More and more, with each successive book, mysteries about the world and the secrets behind the Plague that destroyed all magic-users generations ago are revealed. New societies of Man and Beast co-existing in different ways… and how Firekeeper acts as a catalyst upon the world, changing the way things work, bringing more of the world’s nations together, because she is separated from all of them. And her essential loneliness is shown to us too… a being in between the worlds of Man and Beast, belonging to neither and both at the same time.

Admittedly, the narrative is complex and can sometimes get a bit bogged down in political drama and the endless travelling between countries. It sometimes feels like the narrative of a MMORPG fetch-and-carry quest, where the main character constantly travels from one end of the world to the other, bringing messages and fighting battles along the way. Yet the sheer richness of the world and the mystery behind the magic is something that keeps drawing you back. If you can take the slow and complex pace, and enjoy the richness of the world, you’ll find this series an enjoyable one.

Wolf’s Blood feels like the culmination of the entire series, though the ending is predictably open-ended. But many beloved characters from the older books are brought back, every nation that Firekeeper has visited is helping in some way, and one of the biggest mysteries of the series has been solved. True, there is still room for expansion – knowing what happened is not the same as reversing the process – but the very fact that the two worlds are now connected once again gives hope. It feels like an ending… and Firekeeper seems to have accepted her relationship with Blind Seer. A satisfying stopping point for me. But who knows? If Jane Lindskold does continue to write Firekeeper stories, I wouldn’t mind going on to the next adventure of the wolf-girl.

You see, the people around me always live such busy and active lives that they rarely have time to sit down, do nothing, and just listen for several hours at a time. Every day – every year – I find myself becoming less and less willing to share with other people about my life, simply because they don’t have the patience to listen for several hours while I try to find the words that express my doubts, my fears, my thoughts and feelings. Extroverts have it easy. They can say whatever comes to their mind immediately, and connect quickly and simply. Introverts have a harder time of it – especially Idealist introverts. It takes time for me to open up. And not just time, but demonstrated care and concern as well. I can only truly open up to someone if I know that they care enough to spend time waiting for me to voice out to them, and put away all other distractions and concerns to focus solely on listening to me. And that can take hours.

It’s something I’ve only very rarely experienced with my parents – maybe once or twice in the last 8 years. I remember it happening more often when I was younger. My Dad and I would talk in the car while travelling back from my college, or when picking someone up. My Mom and I would talk over the dining table after dinner, or during teatime. And the time I failed at university – that was when they were willing to sit with me to listen to me, and let me take my time to verbalise all that I felt, all that I thought. Those were the memories I treasured most about my parents… though it took a string of “F”-grades to bring them about sometimes.

Maybe that’s why I became such a good listener. Because at heart, I knew that everyone wanted someone to listen to them. Someone to show care and concern, someone who was willing to sacrifice hours of time they could have used to spend Doing Things, and just listen instead. My primary criterion for a soul-sister – the first indicator that lets me tell whether I’ve found a kindred spirit or not – is this ability to Just Listen. That’s why I love spending time with my soul sisters, and we often have multi-hour-long conversations every time we meet. Because we both Just Listen to each other – for as long as it takes. And sometimes, it takes a long time to get down to the root of our fears – to peel away the layers that we are used to showing in casual, shallow conversations and go deep to the bottom of our hearts. To have heart-to-heart, soul-to-soul talks.

People go around with layers on their hearts. There’s a shallow layer you show to acquaintances at work or on the street or at church – the standard “I’m doing fine” reply to the perfunctory “How are you?” question that everyone asks in order to be polite. Sometimes, with people whom you meet regularly and have deeper connections with, like cell members or close colleagues, you can drop hints about your current situation – “I’m angry about this”, or “Today I got a bonus!” And those can be taken at face value… maybe it’ll lead to a stream of small talk and decent mid-level sharing. And you go away, with your feelings slightly eased, vaguely okay. And most people seem comfortable with that. If you practise it daily, then I guess you could get by with regular doses of middle-level conversations every day, and never miss what you don’t know exists… that soul-deep, bottom-of-your-heart kind of conversation you can only get when someone Listens to you for several hours.

But if you’re an introvert surrounded by busy people, nobody Listens to you. And so the urge to speak builds and builds, but there’s no friendly outlet. So you’re constantly vaguely dissatisfied… lonely and trying to share with the people around, but no one really bothers to Listen.

My parents and most of my friends wonder sometimes how I can get so jazzed up after one good conversation. They don’t believe or don’t understand how just one conversation with my soul sisters – with someone who Listens – can keep me on a euphoric high for several days on end. They sometimes think I’m overexaggerating. I’m not sure if they understand the concept of soul nourishment – a deep conversation with someone who Listens is like a drink of water in a desert, or fresh bread to a man starving for months. Maybe it’s because they haven’t had these kinds of conversations before. Maybe they don’t need them like I do. Maybe their personalities are different, or they imagine that the mid-level conversations they have with their friends is the closest things will ever get. Maybe they’re just too busy, wanting to Do Things, and can’t see the value of “wasting time” doing nothing but sitting and talking. I don’t know.

All I know is, nobody Listens to me.

Every week, as a cell leader, as a friend, as a son, I get called upon to Listen to somebody. I spend hours on the phone and over meals, listening to people. I keep taking in more and more things from other people’s lives – their hurts, their insecurities, their problems, their hopes and dreams. I Listen, and make them feel good to unburden themselves. I Listen, and they feel cared for, comforted to know that someone understands what they’re going through – someone’s willing to pay attention to them and soothe the hurts in their soul. My family, my friends, my cell members… even my co-workers – they all need someone to Listen, and I do that for them.

But who does it for me?

That’s why I have this blog, really. I write in it all the thoughts and feelings I have… all the things I want to say but never can say because nobody listens. They have to come out somehow. So I write on a website that nobody reads… kinda pathetic, but there’s always the off-chance that someone who values me might read it. Even if they don’t, at least I’ve voiced it out. The pressure’s slightly eased. But it’ll never go away until somebody listens.

And frankly, I don’t see that happening anytime soon. No one in my family has been willing to spend hours to Listen to me for the last few years, all too busy with their own lives. Of my three soul sisters, one has a constant irregular schedule as a flight attendant, and the other two are studying overseas at separate colleges, and I don’t even attend the same church as them anymore. And of my two oldest friends, whom although they aren’t soul sisters have learned how to get me to share openly after 10 years of friendship… one is halfway around the world, and the other is preparing for marriage. And my oldest friend here in Singapore is already married. And the only other person here whom I think has the potential to grow into another kindred soul is so busy with so many problems that I think I need to spend more time Listening to her than talking to her.

So. Nobody Listens to me, and it looks like nobody will ever really listen to me. I wonder if that’s the reason why I fall so easily into addictive or self-destructive habits sometimes?

Just came back from watching the musical Duck and Dive, performed by the I Theatre group. It was a really enjoyable performance… my first musical in Singapore. I was a bit hesitant and doubtful at first, because I wasn’t sure of the quality of Singapore’s talent (compared to watching Les Miserables on Broadway, NY), and I was wondering how I would react to humans acting as animals. I came away pleasantly surprised. Duck and Dive was a charming show… not entirely perfect, but the strengths were many and the weaknesses were relatively few.

The story is a family-friendly tale that weaves together the story of the Ugly Duckling and the Frog Prince becoming best friends as they travel in search of the answers to their problems together. While the beginning was a bit jarring – the opening court scene with the Prince and Princess fighting amidst their guardians planning for a royal wedding seemed rather affected and unrealistic (not to mention reminiscent of The Swan Princess animated film) – the real meat of the story starts to shine once the animals get involved.

The costume designs for all of the creatures were very well done, especially the ducklings, heron, weasels and the hedgehog. It was also aided by the superb acting of the cast members in those roles… it’s true that some characters can really bring costumes to life. Speaking of acting, I was extremely impressed by the two leads – Isabella Chiam as the Ugly Duckling Cygna, and Tan Shou Chen as the Frog Prince Anura. Their body language was really well acted out – Chiam had the goofy overgrown duckling role down pat, and her sense of comic timing and facial expression was impeccable.  Tan was highly-detailed in his performance – I remember watching his hands remaining splayed-out as a frog throughout most of the show, and he also managed to incorporate a costume malfunction (his webbed foot fell off) into part of the routine. It’s the little things that count.

I was also incredibly impressed by three of the supporting cast that had multiple roles to play. Candice de Rozario was a standout figure in both acting and singing – she was the only one in the opening court scene which I felt was believable, and her voice work in her song solos as well as the mother of the Ugly Duckling was wonderful. Dwayne Lau played the human regent of the Frog Prince, an oracular peacock-guardian of the Ugly Duckling, and the villainous heron out to eat our heroes. While he still could improve further (the regent character seemed underdeveloped and the vocal style and characterization could have varied further between the disparate roles to further differentiate them), his acting was still dramatic and engaging. Hang Qian Chou was one of my favourites throughout the whole show – he was cast as a variety of comic figures throughout the musical, and he played each of them distinctively and with gusto. Rayann Condy, who played Erin the hedgehog, also deserves mention for the delightful character she brought to life with her superb acting.

The other actors and actresses weren’t as strong as the ones I mentioned above, I felt… some had more visible weaknesses than others. Hatta Said and Trey Ho both had problems with clear diction and pronunciation at times, while Pamela Chong and Renee Chua had issues with overacting their characters (Renee Chua’s cat was good… but her witch character was terrible). Daphne Ong put in a solid performance as a swan and princess, but nothing really stood out positively or negatively. I was a bit mystified by the puppeteers wandering around stage animating flying insects, but hey, whatever works. Surprisingly, I was much more convinced of the animals than I was of the human characters.

Set design and choreography was excellent, and I felt that the ensemble really managed to take advantage of that. Multiple actors acting separately in the background, a few focal points on stage, and some nice intricate dancing occasionally (the dance with the frogs was especially enjoyable). Lighting and special effects were good, especially for the witch’s magics, but the transition was a bit jarring sometimes (which may have been the point… I don’t know). The music flowed excellently throughout, and while not all the songs were memorable (with the possible exception of the “Waddle, waddle, quack, quack” song). The writing was great, with numerous little in-jokes and references to other shows, Singaporean culture, and puns that adults who were accompanying their kids would appreciate. The humor was abundant throughout the play… vocabulary and the rapid speed of dialogue may have been a little advanced for some of the children that filled half the theatre, but considering that this is Singapore, it might have been okay. The only flaw I see with the script is that I can’t really tell how the Frog Prince has changed his character… maybe a bit too sudden, and too much tell, not enough show.

Overall, while the flaws in this show are apparent, there’s also a quirky, delightful charm to the whole production that brings me back to my early days with Disney. It still manages to transport me back into a fairy-tale world of talking animals, and reminds me once again what it’s like to be a child. A delight for the whole family.

Ratings:

Story: A-
Acting: B+
Music: A
Songs: B-
Choreography: A-
Set Design and Lighting: B+
Costumes: A-

Secondly, it has also helped me realise that I don’t need to be a perfect teacher. Maybe this is also because of my past – or maybe my past experiences have merely excerbated the natural tendency of my personality to blame myself for everything that goes wrong. If I have failed in my little duties, if I receive any sort of complaint, if I make a mistake or an error, I can magnify it all out of proportion and get really down on myself. Even if I have 99 A-grade students, and 1 student who got only a B+ because of some error in the way I taught or advised him, I will worry and agonise over that one “failure”. What did I do wrong? Should I have done something else? What sort of punishment or bad consequences should I expect for this mistake? Will this person hate me for life? I have let them down… I am no longer worthy of trust, I have failed in my responsibilities. All these kinds of thoughts run through my mind.. and even though I’m wise enough to dismiss the majority of them, still… they occur at least once, and even more if someone else expresses them to me. That’s why I always have a strong desire to act and play perfectly. Even in my games, I can re-play the same scenario over and over again past the point of boredom, just to achieve perfection. I once spent 6 hours replaying 10 minutes of game time, over and over again, to find the optimal series of actions to take.

But I’m learning to let go now, following the examples set before me. While yes, students are important, and to some extent I should feel responsible for them, I needn’t beat myself too harshly if I feel like I’ve failed them. It’s a learning point for me, and I should regard myself as an apprentice at the craft of teaching, not as a master. I can make mistakes. I’m expected to make mistakes every now and then. I’m not perfect. I can learn and improve, and maybe not make the same mistakes again. There is forgiveness. There is hope. There is always a new batch of students every semester. I can hone my craft slowly, iteratively, working until I’ve polished my skills and gained more experience.

There’s so much to learn about the craft of teaching, I realised. It really is a skill by itself. And teaching design is almost as fun as doing design. When doing design, you’re trying to make certain explicit principles become embedded and tacit in the designed product. When teaching design, you’re trying to make things that are embedded and tacit in the designed product become explicit and extract design principles which you can share to the students. It’s the same process, just in reverse. That’s what I find so fascinating about it.