League of Legends: A Video Game First Impression/Review

Today (January 24^th 2012) is my fourth day of playing the online computer game known as League of Legends. I’ve found it a very enjoyable experience so far, and as such I’m going to give you a rundown on the game including its background, features, and community.

League of Legends is a MOBA (Multiplayer Online Battle Arena) game developed by Riot Games and is inspired by the Warcraft 3 mod known as Defence of the Ancients or simply DotA. The premise behind League of Legends is that each player takes control of a unique hero or Champion from a constantly growing list of available characters, and works together with their team to out manoeuvre, out resource and overpower the opposing team and destroy their base. The battle map is laid out with three lanes between the two bases, with a monster inhabited jungle area around and between the three lanes. (See the map on the right). These lanes are defended with turrets and each team must labour to destroy the other team’s defences in order to advance. The Champions are not alone in their struggle; there is a relatively constant flow of weak, nameless, disposable foot soldiers known as minions from each side. These minions are slaughtered en masse and farmed for gold and experience points by the players. Gold is used to purchase equipment and items for the Champions to make them more effective in their specific role on the team, and experience points lead to levelling up which gives the champion access to a new ability and generally makes them more powerful. Victory is achieved when one team fights its way into its opponent’s base, and destroys the Summoner’s Gate.

League of Legends is free to play, but there are only certain Champions available each week depending on the weekly rotation of free champions. Alternatively you can purchase a Champion permanently and always have access to play it. This can be done in two ways, either you can purchase Riot Points (RP) with your credit card, or you can earn Influence Points (IP) by winning matches, playing well, and introducing new players to the game. IP generally takes more time and effort than spending real life money, but for someone living on a student’s budget (like yours truly) it’s really nice to be able to access the content of the game without busting your wallet. There are also Skins (alternative costumes for Champions) available for purchase, but since they are purely cosmetic and aren’t a main feature of the game they are only available with RP. This allows Riot Games to make a profit while staying free to play. I highly approve of this system, and would like to see it integrated into more games.

The community in League of Legends is an integral part of the game since it is such teamwork focused multiplayer game. As such, there is an official forum on the League website, which allows players to interact, share their stories, discuss strategies and builds, and ask for tips and tricks. So far my personal experience with community of League of Legends has been a positive one. On the other hand, I know for a fact that League of Legends has a bad reputation for being home to trolls, trash talkers, griefers, and some generally unpleasant people. To counter this, Riot Games has integrated a system into the game called the tribunal. Players who are offended by other players have the option of reporting them. When a certain number of complaints have been registered, the player will stand trial in the Tribunal before a jury of their fellow players, who can vote to either punish or forgive the accused player. Riot Games also enforces a specific code of behaviour called the Summoner’s Code. The Summoner’s Code is thus:

I.                    Support your team

II.                 Drive constructive feedback

III.               Facilitate civil discussion

IV.              Enjoy yourself, but not at anyone’s expense

V.                 Build relationships

VI.              Show humility in victory, and grace in defeat

VII.            Be resolute, not indignant

VIII.         Leave no newbie behind!

IX.              Lead by example

Playing League of Legends has been a very enjoyable experience for me so far, and I look forward to continuing to play it for quite some time, and hopefully not sucking anymore. For more information visit: http://www.leagueoflegends.com/. If you’d like to download and play League of Legends, why not use my referral link and give me an IP bonus? http://signup.leagueoflegends.com/?ref=4f1da111b4cc8201052974

Here’s a picture of my Champion of choice:

-Calum

AWE YEAH POETRY

Virginia W.

I.

Kitchen

Explosion

I lost my grip,

It fell

Flour everywhere

Fuck,

I look like a crack addict.

II.

III.

The jar he loved,

Now gone

It’s contents shattered and spilled

Sand thick,

Cold unfeeling dead

As well as all his dreams

O Captain Jack,

Don’t leave jars of dirt on counter edges.

IV.

Drowning,

Sour black tar fills my nose and mouth

Bubbles, drips and chokes

It runs down my chin.

This is a poem

A very bad one,

At the least

Alas with nothing to inspire,

Stream of consciousness takes over.

Movie Review: The hunchback of Notre Dame

Let me break into this with a bit of an explanation. Watching Disney movies has become a bedtime ritual for two kids I regularly babysit, and over the past three months, I’ve seen around 20 infamous gems of Disney’s Masterpiece collection. Translation: I’m getting paid to watch the classic films I grew up with. Anyways, the Hunchback of Notre Dame was yesterday’s “entertainment” –although I fail to remember watching or enjoying it as a child. Its dark themes and rounded character development set it apart from the innumerable pack and, like so many other Disney films, it boasts an applause-worthy score and an arsenal of original songs. So maybe Disney isn’t “your thing” – and that’s perfect – because this picture, happy ending aside, is radically unlike any other film in the cannon. The Hunchback of Notre Dames strays from the generic formulas of the past and into the realms of 14A ratings.  Whether that’s good or not, I’ll leave the judging to you. It’s symbolic, dark, stylized, and in my opinion, a completely inappropriate film.

The story centres the intertwining lives of four Paris residents from apposing classes and upbringings. The title character Quasimodo (Tom Hulce) retains a golden personality hidden behind a face that only a mother could love – too bad antagonist Frollo (Tony Jay) kills her after two minutes of screen time and no lines. Now raised by his morally corrupt master, Frollo, Quasimodo is shut away in the bell tower where he learns he is an unlovable, eternally dammed abomination. But when the once-a-year Festival of Fools takes over Paris, he eludes his prison for the first time to attend. There, he meets Esmeralda (Demi Moore), a beautiful free-spirited gypsy who catches his eye – as well as Frollos and newly appointed captain-of-the-guard Phoebus’s (Kevin Kline). However this is where all similarities to Disney’s proceeding and subsequent films end. If you wish to preserve their pure and wholesome image in your mind, please do not read on. Quasimodo, extremely graphically, is publically tortured and humiliated. When Esmeralda frees him, Frollo orders her arrest. Phoebus, being Frollos second-hand-man, must reluctantly aid in her capture despite developing feelings for her. Frollo, while appalled by her nerve to publically challenge his authority, retains a self-destructive, growing sexual obsession for Esmeralda, which he attributes to her “witchcraft”. The once-vibrate city is soon undermined to smoke and coal under the rule of its fraudulent Catholic leader – who longs to purge the world of those who persist to live outside his norms. As Quasimodo, Esmeralda and Phoebus form an unlikely friendship, they flee to the Court of Miracles – a safe haven for outcasts, gypsies and fugitives – a shelter Frollo and his army have been searching to destroy for over 20 years.

At the hands of the films mature and controversial issues, I almost forgot it was an animated feature geared toward a child audience. The Hunchback of Notre Dame, through song and imagery, tackles the issue of “what makes a monster and what makes a man” delving into the time old struggle of inner verses outer beauty – appearances vs. personality, morals and beliefs. It accomplishes the lesson through, what is arguably, Disney’s most developed lineup of leading characters. Quasimodo is a relatable outcast born into an undesirable fate that any audience could empathize with. He is kind, honest and likable – without unrealistically overdoing it. Frollo, on the other hand, is corrupt, manipulative and malicious, worsened by the fact that he is in a position of power where the cities inhabitants, as well as he himself, truly believe he is an ethical, responsible leader. Ultimately, Frollo manages to inflict unimaginable pain and suffering on Quasimodo without ever laying a finger on him. Esmeralda is an admirable free-spirit, literally willing to die before she conforms to immoralities while Phoebus is that blonde hair, blue eyed tall war hero guy that everyone wants to be. He’s more of a stereotype than the others, but he does earn bonus points for being one of Disney’s only protagonists to serve a major comedic function.

Among all the things displayed in the Hunchback of Notre Dame, there are quite a few lessons of hope, courage, and perseverance.  Quasimodo is truly self-sacrificing – he risks his life, multiple times, for a girl he knows will never love him back. While some may argue this only teaches kids that nice (and ugly) guys finish last, I disagree. Getting the girl is not synonymous with a happy ending, and it’s nice to finally see a movie that shows that. As for relationships, Esmeralda and Phoebus (spoiler alert, sorry) enjoyed a realistic one. They actually had similarities and communication to build a relationship on, and at the end of the film, were not frantically rushing to tie the knot. Love does not happen over a Montague in a single day, but this is unfortunately becoming something most animated films fail to acknowledge.

Academy Award winner Alan Menken’s original score is haunting and powerful, contrasting many of the film’s upbeat original songs. Narrator Clopin (Paul Kandel) has the unique ability to sing incredibly high, incredibly low, and incredibly fast, while Tom Hulce lends his voice to The Hunchback in a sad number expressing the grief of his isolation. But perhaps the most unique is Hellfire, in which Frollo struggles with his obsession for Esmeralda, declaring “she will be mine, or she will burn”. Yikes. And from here we transition to the “cons” of The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

I’ll just go ahead and say it: who exactly was this movie geared towards? Its premise could be condensed into three simple words: Frollo wants Esmeralda. THIS IS NOT APPROPRIATE FOR CHILDREN! I personally felt uncomfortable watching it – due mostly to the fact that a 5- and 7-year-old were in the room. I’m sure Frollo gave them nightmares as well. Anyways, all I’m trying to say is that if we’re sticking with the mature themes, making a live action version would appeal to a more appropriate audience. But when you’re grouping The Hunchback of Notre Dame with films like Beauty and the Beast and The Little Mermaid, you may want to cut out the racy parts and replace them with scenes universally appealing and appropriate. My next issue was with the Gargoyles, who were basically an irritating failed attempt at comic relief. Esmeralda’s mute side-kick goat was funnier, which is somewhat sad. And lastly, like most Disney films, The Hunchback of Notre Dame contained a disproportionate amount of night-and-day irregularities. That is, for example, it is bright at the “Festivals of Fools” – but when Quasimodo is tortured and Esmeralda is fleeing Frollo’s soldiers, it is suddenly dark and eerie. Of course, the daylight resumes once the action cesses. This pattern – harmless and virtually unnoticeable – also repeats itself in the climax.

I am ambivalent. In terms of character development and sub-plot structure, I guess you could call it cinematic masterpiece – but when it comes to the universal appeal and suitability that built the empire, it’s a downright catastrophe. By being attached to the Disney cannon, The Hunchback of Notre Dame false-advertises itself. Those who can appreciate the mature themes will likely not find themselves watching a “children’s” movie, while kids are perhaps unable to decipher the film’s “brilliance”. Simply put, it’s smart, stylized, dark and disturbing – and while it may not be for you (or me), The Hunchback of Notre Dame crossed the line into radically unique and controversial territory. And for that alone, it is commended.

By: Kirsten Gopie

Editors Note

The (Assistant) Editor’s Letter

There was a time not long ago that I was Editor, but as a time-consuming obligation – it was short lived. Enter: co-editor Tori Bell, whose overachieving and punctual conducts soon found her playing the leading role in our magazines inception. As for me, the demotion has been bittersweet.

And so it is. We welcome you to discover Creative Expressions, our all-encompassing summative, navigating its way from our imaginings and into your hands. We are pleased to share our creative writing magazine – complete with reviews, short stories, articles and poems – with our fellow imaginative minds and peers.

Shout out’s go to all of our contributors (check out our bio’s on page __), in particular Editor Tori Bell, cover artist Manpreet Hayer and project initiator Mr. Johnston – without your support, patience and time, this magazine would not exist.

Finally, to our readers. We hope you enjoy Creative Expressions as much as we enjoyed writing, designing and producing it.

Assistant Editor,

Kirsten Gopie

Monstrosity

(Part 1)

By: Karlene

I’m sitting in a chair, writhing in agony. A demon has me pinned. Toying with my head.

                “Menoetius.” He growls, poking the blade into my chest, not forcefully enough to cut, but enough to direct the scene, enough to hurt. He drags the tip of the dagger straight up, over my chest and collar bone, over each ring of cartilage in my neck until the tip is pressed under my chin, forcing me to tilt my head back. He leans over me and practically snorts like a horse, he smiles at me one-sidedly with his crooked teeth and he says,

                “You don’t remember me, do you?’’

I drag my empty doll eyes along the floor, as if searching my mind for the answer. I just shrug and say,

                “You’re a demon.’’ And I match his smirk, “A minor demon.’’

Menoetius’ eyes widen, huge, almost cartoonish. They practically burst out of his head and burn up with fury. Menoetius: god of violent anger and rash action. He pushes the blade in, almost enough to puncture.

                Every blood vessel in his eye has burst open so they’re flooded red, every vein in his neck and forehead is pulsating and dying to pop out of his skin. My eyes follow a bead of sweat as it carves its path across his skin, dragging from his temple all the way down to his neck where I lose it in his tattoos. Black, almost tribal, the tendril design winds its way along his jugular like vines wrapped around a tree.

                “What did you just say?’’ he asks in his most offended voice. He leans in so close our noses are almost touching, and I feel my jaw twinge and I repeat my point.

                “You’re a deity. Not a God.’’ I lean back in the chair more so that he has to lean himself forward. “Not the top of the pyramid, just another brick.’’ I say in metaphors and I swear I can hear his blood boiling.

                I see his knuckles go white; he’s squeezing the dagger so tight. Menoetius’ hand is practically shaking, his face is pulled together tight and beet red, he’s doing his best to hold in his rage, but he didn’t get his title for nothing.

                Suddenly we’re both broken out of our locked gaze by the sound of glass breaking, we both jerk in shock and the dagger pierces into my skin, my hand flies up to the pain instinctively and holds my jaw.

                Menoetius’ hand drops down by his side and cautiously I lean forward again with the squeak of the chair, we stay motionless to listen.

                We inch our way out of the overgrown shed of my studio, eek our way across the patio until we see my sliding glass door, or at least what’s left of it. 

                As I inch closer I hear a noise, almost a dull moan, a cry of agony. When finally I’m standing in front of my broken open door I see her, face in a puddle of blood and broken glass, and when I’m in mid-sigh Menoetius groans beside me.

                “For Christ sakes…’’

The figure on my kitchen floor is Oizys. Goddess of pain, suffering and misery.

                “Shut up!’’ she screams, looking over her shoulder from the ground at Menoetius. “Just shut up!’’

I feel my stomach churn when I notice the shards of glass lodged in her forearms, hands, bare feet and face. She starts pushing herself up with her palms, digging the glass into her skin deeper as she does and I wince.

                I hear the grass crunching and my eyes follow the sound, and unsurprisingly another figure emerges from behind my countertop.

                This guy leans against my fridge, tall and slender he folds his arms over his chest. His neck and head are permanently tilted down in a hunch. He slips his hand out of the crook of his elbow and snaps his fingers out in front of him. I’m watching him closely, mesmerized. A cigarette literally poofs into existence between his first two fingers, already lit. He brings it up to his lips and takes a deep drag for the duration it takes Oizys to get on her feet.

                She steadies herself and stares at the man, who just smiles crookedly with jagged yellow teeth and exhales in a puff of smoke into her bloodied face, sending her into a coughing fit.

                I must be 10 feet away, but this guy’s stench is over powering. A combination of skunk and rotting skin is the best way to describe him. So I just blurt out what comes to mind.

                “Hades.’’ I utter. His eyes flicker over to mine in a flashing shine, and we stare for a long moment before he finally just rolls them. He flicks the cigarette across the room and I watch it hit the linoleum.

                He makes his way over to me, saunters even, gently pushing Oizys out of his way with the back of his hand. The glass crunches under his feet until he finally reaches me, I have to look straight up to be direct with his downward face.

                His eyes are pentagrams instead of pupils. The whites are shimmering, almost like he’s welled up with tears. He smiles right down at me, his mouth twisting into a crooked black line and he just shakes his head.

                “No, my dear.’’ He says in a hiss of a voice. He brings his hands up to my shoulders and I feel his ice cold skin even through my shirt.

                “People are always getting us mixed up.’’ He tells me, exasperated. I breathe through my mouth just to tolerate the stench. I see Menoetius out of the corner of my eye shuffle back a few steps and swallow hard. Now I get it.

                “God of Death.’’ I say just loud enough to be audible and his smile stretches even thinner.

                “But you can call me Thanatos.’’

We stare at each other for a long slow motion moment before he blinks; his right index finger comes up to my chin, tilting my head a little  backwards so he can look at the bottom of my jaw.

                “You’re neck…’’ his eyes narrow, he sees the little prick of a wound left on me and his eyes widen back open, “What happened?’’ he asks with genuine concern. I open my mouth to speak but with the chill of his hand under my jaw nothing comes out but a crackle. Thanatos sigh through his nose, his head slowly turns away from me, in Menoetius’ direction. I can practically feel the deity’s hot blood start running cold against Thanatos’ gaze.

                I follow the little pentagrams and turn my head.  Thanatos’ eyes are fixated on the little dagger Menoetius’ fingers are curled tight around. He releases his hold on my jaw and steps over towards his cohort, bit of glass crumbling under his feet.

                He stands right in front of him, towering over him, icy air shooting out of his nostrils. He pushes his head forward like a turtle popping out of its shell, forcing Menoetius to shrivel back down into his collar. Thanatos doesn’t even blink as he stares wide eyed.

                “You.” He grumbles into the deity’s face.

I hear the cracklings of more glass being crunched into the floor and I turn to see Oizys, gingerly making her way over to us.

                “Please…’’ she pleads with teary eyes. I move towards her, whether it was out of pity or just wanting to get away from the stench of death, I’m not sure.

                My hands hover over her, unable to grab any part of her without sending glass into my own skin. I choke out the only words that come to mind.

                “Do you want me to call an ambulance?’’

A bellowing laugh answers for her, and naturally another entity appears. Sitting on the island in the middle of my kitchen. A woman with dirty blonde hair, wavy and hanging just past her shoulders. She’s plucking grapes out of the little basket and plopping them into her mouth, giggling with her head tilted slightly and her legs swinging back and forth.

                “You caaaaaan’t call for helpppppppp!’’ she chimes, holding the red grape between her top and bottom teeth in a smile. I see Oizys hang her head, I look over at the men to see Thanatos rubbing his forehead like he’s fighting off a headache, and Menoetius is just staring with raised eyebrows.

                The woman sighs, sinking her teeth into the grape. She tucks it into one of her cheeks before speaking again.

                “Y’see, Oizys here…’’ she pushes herself off the island, jumping onto the floor in another resounding crunch of glass. “Oizys needs to do these things. She needs to get hurt, to have people feel sorry for her.’’ She laughs again, this time putting her forefinger to her teeth as she saunters over to us.

                “Ananke…’’ I hear in an annoyed sigh from Thanatos as he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

                I grasp the shirt over the small of Oizys’ back and tug her away. Ananke stares at me with her hands on her hips, irritated at my actions.

                “Look…’’ she huffs out in a burst of hot air, “Oizys, she like…gets off on this kind of thing.” Her elbow pivots off her hip now and her palm turns skyward in exasperation. “I’m serious, it’s a sick goddamn compulsion of hers.’’

                “I get it now.’’ I say, “That’s you. Goddess of compulsion.’’

“And necessity, and inevitability.’’ Her lips curl up in a smirk, “But I don’t wanna nitpick.’’

I finally blurt out my burning question. I ask what in the hell brought all these demons and deities and gods to my humble abode. And immediately I’m greeted by an echoing chuckle from Thanatos.

                “Well, you invited us.’’

                “No, I didn’t’’ I utter, doing my best to stare sternly at him. He smirks, his mouth a crooked line and he chuckles, taking a step towards me. His smile grows, showing me his disgusting teeth. I catch a whiff of him and feel my stomach acids clawing their way back up.

                “Don’t lie.’’ He tells me, arms folding over his chest. I shake my head.

                “I’m not a liar.’’ I say, swallowing the lump in my throat.

My response is met by round of laughter from the entire troupe, even Oizys.  Thanatos tents his fingers, stepping so close we’re almost touching. He sticks his head out again at me. His words come out in a chilling breath. So cold I can see it hanging in the air even though it’s July. He sticks his one bony forefinger out at me, pointing right into my face and he says,

                “Now that, that was a lie.’’