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Life Is Strange: The Perfect Storm

Life Is Strange Cover

Life Is Strange became a perfect storm of teenage angst, friendship, and adorable quirkiness backed by thoughtful storytelling and a heart-in-throat twist.

The story takes place in a struggling fishing village in the Pacific Northwest; a setting that plays seamlessly with hipster-savvy characters and strong female leads. You take control of our budding photographer protagonist, Max, on her 18th birthday as she’s recently enrolled in prestigious art-driven boarding school for gifted students. In the opening scene she has a crazy premonition and discovers that she has ability to control—reverse—time. It’s awesome. It’s every indie stereotype personified in a cataclysm of so much sugary-pop goodness that it hurts your teeth and rots your mind—only to later sideswipe you with depth and soul.

Read more: Life Is Strange: The Perfect Storm

Video Games

Storytelling & Writing: 94% - 1 votes
Graphics: 61% - 1 votes
Controls & Playability: 72% - 1 votes
Soundtrack & Audio: 90% - 1 votes
Je Ne Sais Quoi: 97% - 1 votes

83% Pac North West Quirkiness With Gripping Depth

Life Is Strange is a total character piece. The game lives or dies by its characters and their relationships–and this game not only lives, but it transcends. Fantastic storytelling with gripping twists, compelling and well-researched universe, and thoughtful soundtrack; this game is solid and my favorite in a long time. The characters are highly relatable and realistic, with the philosophy of time-travel well thought out. Think of it as an interactive television show that is be experienced (not so much "played").

Life Is Strange: The Perfect Storm

Life Is Strange: The Perfect Storm

Life Is Strange became a perfect storm of teenage angst, friendship, and adorable quirkiness backed by thoughtful storytelling and a heart-in-throat twist. The story takes place in a struggling fishing village in the Pacific Northwest; a setting that plays seamlessly with hipster-savvy characters and strong female leads. You take control of our budding photographer protagonist, Max, on her 18th birthday as she’s recently enrolled in prestigious art-driven boarding school for gifted students. In the opening scene she has a crazy premonition and discovers that she has ability to control—reverse—time. It’s awesome. It’s every indie stereotype personified in a cataclysm of so much sugary-pop goodness that it hurts your teeth and rots your mind—only to later sideswipe you with depth and soul.
Life Is Strange became a perfect storm of teenage angst, friendship, and adorable quirkiness backed by thoughtful storytelling and a heart-in-throat twist. The story takes place in a struggling fishing village in the Pacific Northwest; a setting that plays seamlessly with hipster-savvy characters and strong female leads. You take control of our budding photographer protagonist, Max, on her 18th birthday as she’s recently enrolled in prestigious art-driven boarding school for gifted students. In the opening scene she has a crazy premonition and discovers that she has ability to control—reverse—time. It’s awesome. It’s every indie stereotype personified in a cataclysm of so much sugary-pop goodness that it hurts your teeth and rots your mind—only to later sideswipe you with depth and soul.
83 out of 100 with 5 ratings

Big Data: Removing Bias Within The Judicial System

Law and Justice

Ideological partisanship is deteriorating our society.

It’s very nature fosters inequality, stunts progression, and detracts from the common good. This poison has completely consumed the Executive and Legislative branches of government, and continues to leech into the Judicial—the people’s single safe-haven that promises unwavering and unbiased justice to all regardless of race, class, creed, or religion. By using big data, we can offer empirical certainty that equal and consistent justice is being served—and if it’s not, the ability to remove its offenders.

I: The Constitution and Why Partisanship Doesn’t Apply

There have been no news articles, no insight offered by academic or legal scholars, no pragmatic solutions that have overwhelmingly demonstrated the value of partisanship. Ever. Nothing of these arguments in support bias show how the effects of its good outweigh that of its bad—it’s all theory and opinion to convince us that partisanship is necessary. And it’s worked. We willingly accept—celebrate—the pillaging of our democratic system in the name of a political party and even go as far to evangelize it.

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Leibniz: Human Freewill *Wink

Red Pill or Blue Pill

I wonder if Leibniz, somewhere deep inside himself, had this overwhelming feeling of giddiness when he wrote “Primary Truths”?

While he couldn’t predict the future, something within the eternal truth of himself must have tingled with the thought of philosophy students—350 years later—reading his words. Some part of his subconscious swelling because the version of his perfected-self, the version that God decided would be best for the world, was one where he is to be echo throughout history and pop culture.

Ah, but Gottfried was modest; “every individual substance contains in its perfect notion the entire universe” (266). He’ll be the first to admit the profound nature of a leaf or blade of grass—and that his mind is no better than yours or mine.

Read more: Leibniz: Human Freewill *Wink

Legally Married With Children: A Conversation

Legally Married With Children

See no evil. Hear no evil. Speak no evil.

While there is absolutely no moral equivalency being drawn between good and evil—right and wrong—this exposé on same-sex marriage and modern families is completely about turning a blind eye. How I looked the other way—simply because everyone else did. We are afraid to ask the simplest of questions just because of the way it makes us feel. Ignorant. Confused. Fearful of the future. A whole host of complex questions that require considerable thought, vulnerability, and stirs deep emotions.

Meet Ginger; a longtime family friend and who would be the closest thing I have to a sister. My dad and her dad have been friends since the mid 1970s. They met while at work; my dad being a construction manager and her dad, David, owning a painting company. The two played competitive softball with each other for many years. As the stories go, it was a tight-knit group of friends and the ballgames were much more than obsession—it was their life. My mom had a significant role in Ginger’s young life, acting as an close-to-the-family babysitter for her and her brother for several years. Ginger’s mom and dad were always very much involved in her life, but appreciated the extra help while working full-time jobs and managing softball teams. Eventually I was born and my mom looked after all three of us. Though I was only a toddler, Ginger was my favorite and I followed her around like a duckling.

Read more: Legally Married With Children: A Conversation

Descartes' Wax: More Important Than God

Descartes' Wax Argument

First, let’s consider a question: if a thinking mind didn’t contemplate a piece of wax, would the wax even exist?

According to Rene Descartes, existence is predicated upon thinking. In order to know if something truly exists, it must think. So can wax not exist because it doesn’t think? Or does the wax not know that exists because it doesn’t think? Or do we, thinking things, give the wax existence simply by virtue of us thinking about it? But then what thought about us?

Before we can attempt to answer any of these questions, we must first define existence. “Let us consider those things which are commonly believed to be the most distinctly grasped by all: namely bodies we touch and see” (45). We can touch, taste, smell, and see the wax—we use our empirical senses to define its existence. “But notice that, as I am speaking, I am bringing it close to the fire” (45). The wax heats up, it changes shape, it loses its scent, it turns to liquid. “Does the wax still remain? I must confess that it does; no one denies it; no one thinks otherwise” (45). But if so, what happened to all of the empirical data that was originally collected to verify its existence? Those same attributes—its shape, the way it feels, smells, sounds—all are no longer accurate, but yet the wax still remains.

Read more: Descartes' Wax: More Important Than God

How Will Feminism Remember Kellyanne Conway?

Kellyanne Conway and Feminism

No. For reals. I’m genuinely asking.

While Conway isn’t single handedly responsible for Donald Trump being elected, she was certainly instrumental. A strong case can be made that if it weren’t for her, Hillary Clinton would have become President. In my opinion, this has to create tremendous pause within the movement.

Is Kellyanne the troll of women’s rights? The pawn that men used to tear down another woman? Or, is Kellyanne the posterwoman of the movement’s success?

Conway forged a successful career in a highly male dominated field. She was hired as Trump’s campaign manager based on her merits, and she blindly went after Hillary as a competitor regardless of gender ideology. She was hired to do a job, and she did it well. Professionally, Kellyanne represents everything Feminism stands for—except that she used it against them.

Conway benefited from the progress Feminism afforded her, and then potentially sabotaged its future. If it weren’t for Feminist—strong women paving the road before her—she never would have been able to rise to the career and political stature that she’s earned.

Read more: How Will Feminism Remember Kellyanne Conway?

Millennial Extremism - Is Democracy In Jeopardy?

Millennial Extremism

I was taken aback after the 2016 Presidential Election, but not in the way you’d think.

I understand the higher over-arching symbolism that each candidate represented. Breaking the glass ceiling, women vindicated—or simply keeping someone out of office who openly derogated women, religion, and minorities. I understand what our President means to the world, what the position means to children and how the position sets the tone of what we agree upon as a society is acceptable behavior. The Presidency is much more than policy.

As stunning as it was to witness our country elect Donald Trump, I was more shocked and dumbfounded by Millennials. Their response. How they reacted and handled themselves. The level in which their feelings, lives, and outlook of the world was so entwined with the person in office.

I’m an ‘old man’ Millennial. I’m about as old as you can be and still be considered a Millennial. Frankly, I feel completely out of touch with kids entering college. The generation gap between me and 20 year olds is just as significant as someone who is in their 40s, or 70s.

Read more: Millennial Extremism - Is Democracy In Jeopardy?

2016 Election - The Separation of Culture and State

Separation of Culture and State

The 2016 Presidential Election has been challenging. An understatement, obviously.

Not only has it challenged our democratic system and the strength of our union, but it has also touched our citizens personally. Deeply. It’s widely complex. Not just debatable on the way we interpret facts and policy, but also how we are choosing to represent our civilization.

Our government, intentional or not, has become more than a government. It’s the organization we look to as a society that sets the tone of how our culture is supposed to be lived. The things we value. The ideology we pass down. The fundamentals we set and lead by as an example to the rest of the world.

Our government was never intended to be a social and civil barometer of civilization. When we were being founded, we barely squeaked out a war over the world’s largest empire. We were not a super power. We were not the world’s leader. We were not the idealistic posterchild of democracy, freedom, or opportunity. However, the small government our founding fathers created—filled with restrictions of power and checks and balances—allowed us to become the greatest society in the history of man.

Read more: 2016 Election - The Separation of Culture and State

Veruca Salt - A Warm Blanket Out Of The Dryer

Veruca Salt - Ghost Notes

Maybe you can never go home again. But if you could, Ghost Notes would be the soundtrack.

For some reason I’ve avoided writing about Ghost Notes since it came out last summer. I’m not sure why—I really like this album. I also love Veruca Salt. They make the short list of my all-time favorite bands. The only thing I can think of is that I was trying to keep this album for myself. It’s like reliving a memory—something you’d only share with someone who understands what you’ve been through. Or maybe it’s because Nina and Louise harmonizing again feels like a freshly washed blanket out of a warm dryer and I just want to curl up and daydream while I listen. It’s been my sanctuary, invitation only.

Ghost Notes is vibrant, powerful, and packed with refined adult angst; it’s also extremely familiar. That’s not a bad thing. In fact, it’s my favorite quality of the album. It’s everything I miss about Veruca Salt and how I’ve romanticized the idea of what it would be like to recapture teenage love. Reality will never be as good as the fantasy, but in Veruca Salt’s case they’ve managed to rediscovered the magic they had from their first two albums, and in doing so brought me right back into my high school bedroom. Maybe you can never go home again, but if you could this would be the soundtrack. Older, more mature, and all of the childish insecurities buried deep beneath an exterior of defiance and collared shirts.

Not that Veruca Salt was ever the youthful exuberance of pop rock, the band leaning more on cerebral advances and driving guitars, but this album is a living will of their progression as musicians and songwriters. They’ve become masters of their craft, something only time and experience can develop—a kick to the nuts of the double-edged tragedy that is rock n’ roll’s youthful expiration date. Eddie Vedder keeps doing it, Beck—even though Jack White and Billy Joe Armstrong will never see another Teen Choice Award—nostalgia aside—the craftsmanship of their music has dramatically improved with their age.

Read more: Veruca Salt - A Warm Blanket Out Of The Dryer

Music

Songwriting & Lyrics: 93% - 1 votes
Composition & Arrangement: 87% - 1 votes
Recording & Production: 84% - 1 votes
Artwork & Presentation: 71% - 1 votes
Je Ne Sais Quoi: 97% - 1 votes

86% - Angelic Daydream With Claws

This album was never supposed to happen, or at least that’s how things looked after the band imploded in the late 90’s. While we haven’t been left without music, Nina and Louise continuing to write and record without each other, the dynamic and magic was never the same. Ghost Notes buries the hatchet and reunites all original members, filling a vast void in female driven rock. If you like powerful guitars, sweeping builds, and meaningful lyrics with angelic harmonies—and I do—this album will give you goose bumps.

Veruca Salt - A Warm Blanket Out Of The Dryer

Veruca Salt - A Warm Blanket Out Of The Dryer

Maybe you can never go home again. But if you could, Ghost Notes would be the soundtrack. For some reason I’ve avoided writing about Ghost Notes since it came out last summer. I’m not sure why—I really like this album. I also love Veruca Salt. They make the short list of my all-time favorite bands. The only thing I can think of is that I was trying to keep this album for myself. It’s like reliving a memory—something you’d only share with someone who understands what you’ve been through. Or maybe it’s because Nina and Louise harmonizing again feels like a freshly washed blanket out of a warm dryer and I just want to curl up and daydream while I listen. It’s been my sanctuary, invitation only. Ghost Notes is vibrant, powerful, and packed with refined adult angst; it’s also extremely familiar. That’s not a bad thing. In fact, it’s my favorite quality of the album. It’s everything I miss about Veruca Salt and how I’ve romanticized the idea of what it would be like to recapture teenage love. Reality will never be as good as the fantasy, but in Veruca Salt’s case they’ve managed to rediscovered the magic they had from their first two albums, and in doing so brought me right back into my high school bedroom. Maybe you can never go home again, but if you could this would be the soundtrack. Older, more mature, and all of the childish insecurities buried deep beneath an exterior of defiance and collared shirts. Not that Veruca Salt was ever the youthful exuberance of pop rock, the band leaning more on cerebral advances and driving guitars, but this album is a living will of their progression as musicians and songwriters. They’ve become masters of their craft, something only time and experience can develop—a kick to the nuts of the double-edged tragedy that is rock n’ roll’s youthful expiration date. Eddie Vedder keeps doing it, Beck—even though Jack White and Billy Joe Armstrong will never see another Teen Choice Award—nostalgia aside—the craftsmanship of their music has dramatically improved with their age.
Maybe you can never go home again. But if you could, Ghost Notes would be the soundtrack. For some reason I’ve avoided writing about Ghost Notes since it came out last summer. I’m not sure why—I really like this album. I also love Veruca Salt. They make the short list of my all-time favorite bands. The only thing I can think of is that I was trying to keep this album for myself. It’s like reliving a memory—something you’d only share with someone who understands what you’ve been through. Or maybe it’s because Nina and Louise harmonizing again feels like a freshly washed blanket out of a warm dryer and I just want to curl up and daydream while I listen. It’s been my sanctuary, invitation only. Ghost Notes is vibrant, powerful, and packed with refined adult angst; it’s also extremely familiar. That’s not a bad thing. In fact, it’s my favorite quality of the album. It’s everything I miss about Veruca Salt and how I’ve romanticized the idea of what it would be like to recapture teenage love. Reality will never be as good as the fantasy, but in Veruca Salt’s case they’ve managed to rediscovered the magic they had from their first two albums, and in doing so brought me right back into my high school bedroom. Maybe you can never go home again, but if you could this would be the soundtrack. Older, more mature, and all of the childish insecurities buried deep beneath an exterior of defiance and collared shirts. Not that Veruca Salt was ever the youthful exuberance of pop rock, the band leaning more on cerebral advances and driving guitars, but this album is a living will of their progression as musicians and songwriters. They’ve become masters of their craft, something only time and experience can develop—a kick to the nuts of the double-edged tragedy that is rock n’ roll’s youthful expiration date. Eddie Vedder keeps doing it, Beck—even though Jack White and Billy Joe Armstrong will never see another Teen Choice Award—nostalgia aside—the craftsmanship of their music has dramatically improved with their age.
86 out of 100 with 5 ratings