The graphic novel “Persepolis” by Marjane Satrapi presents the theme of migration and identity in a funny yet thought-provoking manner. I had read the novel a long time ago, but I decided to give it another read after I left my own country, in pursuit of a better education, and a better life. I wasn’t surprised when I could relate more to Marjane and her experience as a foreigner in Austria, far away from home and everything she had found comfort in. The crisis of searching for one’s own identity and roots in an unknown land is portrayed light-heartedly, but those panels weigh more than what meets the eye.
The novel follows the life of a young girl named Marjane as she navigates her way through a changing world, and the impact that migration has on her sense of self. The story begins with Marjane growing up in Tehran, Iran, during the 1970s, a time of relative stability and prosperity. However, as the political situation in Iran becomes more and more volatile, Marjane’s parents decide to send her to Austria to attend school. This decision represents a major turning point in Marjane’s life, as she is forced to confront the challenges of living in a foreign country and adapting to a new culture.
Marjane struggles to find a sense of belonging in Austria, as she feels alienated from both her Iranian heritage and her new Austrian surroundings. She faces racism and discrimination from her classmates, who view her as an outsider. We see how she was treated as an outsider and exploited even by people who she thought cared for her. Later, a panel shows her recalling how she was called a “dirty foreigner” by an old man in the metro. Marjane’s parents, on the other hand, try to maintain her connection to her Iranian roots by sending her care packages filled with traditional foods and clothing. This leads to a sense of confusion and dislocation for Marjane, as she struggles to reconcile her Iranian identity with her experiences in Austria.
As the story progresses, Marjane returns to Iran after the fall of the Shah and the establishment of the Islamic Republic. She is initially excited to be back in her home country, as she says “…and so much for my individual and social liberties… I needed so badly to go home”, but soon realises that Iran has changed in ways that she did not expect. The strict dress codes, the suppression of women’s rights, and the violence of the Iranian regime all contribute to Marjane’s growing disillusionment with her homeland. She becomes increasingly critical of the government and its policies, and begins to see herself as a rebel and a non-conformist.
Throughout “Persepolis,” Marjane’s experiences of migration and displacement shape her sense of self and her understanding of the world around her. Her story highlights the complex ways in which identity is constructed and negotiated in the context of migration. As Marjane moves between different cultures and contexts, she is forced to confront the limitations and possibilities of her own identity, and to negotiate the tensions and contradictions that arise from her experiences of migration and displacement.
Marjane’s story highlights the challenges and opportunities that arise from migration, and the ways in which it can shape an individual’s sense of self and understanding of the world. By exploring these themes through the lens of a young girl’s experiences, Satrapi offers a unique perspective on the complexities of migration and identity, and the ways in which they intersect and shape one another.
It seems like everybody is in their villain era lately. Horror cinema has become mainstream to the extent that wider audiences are becoming more aware of the hidden cypher of morals and taboos lying beneath the human and not-so-human monsters on the silver screen. And for a lifelong and passionate fan of everything scary (as I am), this is the true nightmare. Because making horror suitable for bigger audiences came at the cost of sacrificing much of the boldness of the genre.
Looking for a fun zombie movie to watch with my mum (the biggest The Walking Dead fan I know) I came across the Wyrmwood series, consisting of Road of the Dead (2014) and Apocalypse (2022). Both of which are movies produced and directed by brothers Tristian and Kiah Roache-Turner with a budget of only about 160,000 Dollars each (TWD has a budget of 3.4 million per episode). And yet, this low budget franchise has given me all I wanted from a zombie movie, and so much more.
I want to address both movies back-to-back, not only because their refreshing take on zombie movies made me binge-watch them in one sitting, but also because they are exactly like consecutive movies should be: siblings, not twins.
I have honestly grown tired of the endless conversations about morality and humanity. Whole episodes of The Walking Dead without a single dead person walking in sight. Just people talking about the evil deeds of their fellow survivors and unsolvable battles being fought out in eternal discussions. I just want to see guts splattering on the screen, is this too much to ask for?
Enter Wyrmwood, the very Australian lovechild of Mad Max and Day of the Dead.
Director Kiah Roache-Turner appeals to his audience’s media literacy: most of us know zombies better than our own grandma. “Everybody knows what the set up is, let’s just cut to the chase. There’s zombies everywhere, you know what I mean? It’s some kind of vague, Biblical metaphor, meteors have landed, let’s put the leathers on and get a double-barrel shotgun out, and it just cuts straight to the chase […].” (Kiah Roache-Turner on flicks.co.nz) Hence, there is not much of a plot to address here. The brothers have reduced the zombie movie formula to the bare minimum. First, it is about people trying to survive in the apocalypse, and then, madness ensues.
It is a zombie movie set in “a world that is cool – it’s a zombie apocalyptic wasteland where the zombies can attach to vehicles and generators as a power source, and you’ve got somebody who has developed the power to control zombies like puppets […].” (Kiah Roache-Turner on Gamerant) Both of these ideas just blew my mind. Not because they are symbolically deep or anything. They are just fun concepts for a movie and look amazing in action sequences.
Their video game-like approach is not only apparent in their ideas, but the camerawork also borrows from this aesthetic. It is incredibly fast, chaotic, with interesting angles and quick shots. Certain scenes have a very game-like boss-fight style to them. (spotlightreport.net)
Especially the visuals and action sequences of the sequel Apocalypse are amazing. The Wyrmwood movies rely on practical effects, rather than special effects. The makeup of the zombies does look quite good (despite the contact-lenses being a bit too obviously fake at times), and the splatter action is amusing. There is no doubt that a low budget movie with practical effects will age better with time than a million-dollar series like She-Hulk, clearly overdoing it with special effects.
Also, it is a very Australian movie, proudly sporting the influence of Mad Max, with heavily modded cars and cool apocalyptic fashion. (Roach-Turner on moviefreak.com). From the usage of cricket players as weapons, to the song Red Right Hand by Nick Cave being used in the opening sequence of Apocalypse. Plenty of shots of the characteristic flora of the outback, warm colours and lonely roads. For once, we get the feeling of a country that is not plagued by overpopulation (in contrast to the vast hordes of many US cantered zombie franchises), there are no big crowds of zombies surrounding the protagonists. In fact, they eventually even struggle to locate one to use as fuel. Especially the second movie, filmed with only a few sets and locations, manages to create a unique feeling of isolation, despite being action packed to the brim.
The dialogue in Wyrmwood is cut down to a minimum as well. It gets the story across, and characterizes the protagonists: nothing more, nothing less.
The zombie genre is a genre that is generally quite good at depicting a diverse cast of characters, and it is something that puts me in a good mood. Wyrmwood is no exception to this rule, as it features a cast consisting of men and women, white people and people of colour, featuring three main characters who are indigenous. But honestly, the women of the franchise steal the show. My personal favourite is zombie-controlling Brooke (Bianca Bradley), who goes from slightly shy, but still tough in the first movie, to an animalistic, crazed-out zombie hybrid in the sequel. And it is honestly delightful to watch her telepathically make zombies use guns and grenades. Honestly badass, and, like everything in these movies, just plain fun to look at.
Despite its fast pace and straight-up out there characters, Wyrmwood somehow manages not to become ridiculous or overly goofy. There are serious moments and a solid storyline, likeable characters, and vile antagonists. And the worldbuilding is refreshingly unique and consistent.
So, in conclusion, this is as much as a review, as it is a criticism of modern horror cinema. Stop telling me about the depravity of humankind. Show it to me. I want to see the bloody roots of it. Brains and all.
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If you want to give your own brain some slack and relax with some fast-paced, bloody action, at the time of this blog’s writing, Wyrmwood: Road of the Dead is currently available for as little as 0,99 Euro on Amazong VoD, and Wyrmwood: Apocalypse is free on Amazon Prime.
Sources
Raven Brunner. “Kiah Roache-Turner Talks Wyrmwood: Apocalypse, Chatting With Fans, And A Potential Third Movie” https://gamerant.com/kiah-roache-turner-wyrmwood-apocalypse-interview/
Skyjoker. Interview: ‘Wyrmwood Apocalypse’ Director Kiah Roache-Turnerhttps://spotlightreport.net/featured/interview-wyrmwood-apocalypse-director-kiah-roache-turner
Steve Newall. Interview: ‘Wyrmwood: Road of the Dead’ director Kiah Roache-Turner. https://www.flicks.co.nz/features/interview-wyrmwood-road-of-the-dead-director-kiah-roache-turner/
Moviefreak. “Wyrmwood: Road of the Dead” – Interview with Director Kiah Roache-Turner. http://moviefreak.com/wyrmwood-interview-kiah-roache-turner/#.Y9QsqK2ZO3A
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The Magic Fish by Trung Le Nguyen is not a common immigration story. In most of the immigration novels I have read so far, immigration was looked at through the lens of first generation immigrants and we saw their stories as they happened, or as a retelling of some sort, but The Magic Fish had a unique protagonist; A second generation son of a Vietnamese refugee family who also happened to be queer.
Before I get into the details about the graphic novel, I’d like to take a quick look at the artist. Trung Le Nguyen, also known as Trungles, is a Vietnamese-American cartoonist, artist and writer who is best known for his graphic novel The Magic Fish, which was published by Random House Graphic in 2020. Trung was born in a Vietnamese refugee camp in the Philippines and moved to the United States when he was two years old. Also, It was very interesting to learn that Trung is gay and non-binary, and the story of The Magic Fish was heavily inspired by his own upbringing and real life.
Now on to the comic itself; The Magic Fish by Trung Le Nguyen is a graphic novel about a young boy named Tiến, the second generation son of Vietnamese refugee parents. Tiến’s dilemma is that he’s a closeted gay young man, who’s in love with his friend, and seems to be having issues coming out to his family because he can’t find the right words for it in Vietnamese to talk about his sexuality with his family. From the very beginning of the novel, we see that there is a language barrier between him and his mother, and in order for his mother to practice her English, she suggests that Tiến reads them a fairytale book that they’ve gotten from the library.
Through the reading of this fairytale, we’re introduced to a lot more than just the plot of the fantasy book. The fairytale story itself is a work of fiction that seems to be a mix of Cinderella and The Little Mermaid. Aside from that, we also get to learn about Helen’s (Tiến’s mom) background and how she married Tiến’s dad and left Vietnam together. The fairytale is very unique because it brings Tiến and Helen together in the way that it seems to work like a bridge between the two, trumping their language barrier and other gaps. Through reading the book, Helen seems to be reliving some of her memories from her life when she was young, and her marriage to her husband and how they left their homeland, and for Tiến, too, he seems to be daydreaming about and imagining his in-real crush to be the prince from the fairytale.
When asked by The Hollywood Reporter about the reason why he took the fairytale approach in his storytelling, Trung explained:
“I think fairy tales are such a great touchstone for how to find common experiences among people who have grown up in totally different places, because they’re very formal and they’re oftentimes very personal and told in very intimate settings. They kind of are these really nice blank slates to bring our differences to the fore, and also navigate how those differences can be tied together.”
The interviewer then asked a follow-up question concerning the three narratives and which one was easier for Trung to connect to and write about, and what Trung said in response was something that I found quite interesting, and a point of view that I’d never considered before.
“I think the last story, the one that’s based on The Little Mermaid, was something that I was really comfortable with. I’ve spent a lot of time reading about Hans Christian Andersen and the notion that Hans Christian Andersen wrote the story from a place of unrequited longing and clear love that never really comes to fruition was such a fascination for me for such a long time. And then, explaining to my family and my parents why that story was such a fascinating thing for me, and having them explain back that this is an immigrant story, she gives up something, she gave up her tongue, her language, to live someplace new so that she could be with someone that she loved. That’s an immigrant story. I loved that so much.”
The fairytale itself aside, one other thing that I found to be quite interesting was the queer elements of The Magic Fish. Firstly, we have a (mostly) closeted young protagonist who’s struggling with the topic of coming out to his parents due to a language barrier and also probably cultural gaps that exist between him as a young boy raised in the United States and his Vietnamese refugee parents; a situation that is definitely very relatable to other queer children of refugee and immigrant families. Other than that, there was a part in the fairytale where the prince refers to Alera using they/them pronouns, and as a non-binary person myself and considering how rare it is for non-binary people to appear in most works of fiction, it was very delightful to have that small bit of representation and it definitely caught my attention.
The Magic Fish is a very special and extremely stunning novel. The way the fairytale somewhat reflects the characters’ real lives is extremely unique and beautifully done, making it easily accessible to all readers due to its retelling of the popular classics that we’re all familiar with. It reveals so much about the characters with so few words and tells us about Tiến’s personal struggles, Helen’s history and her escape from post-war Vietnam, and so much more, and ties it all together using fairytales. All in all, a very good introduction to Trung’s brilliant works, immigration novels, and a worthwhile read.
The show H20: Just Add Water is a children’s show about three teenage girls Emma, Cleo and Rikki (And later, Emma is replaced by Bella) who become mermaids and grow tails as soon as they touch water. The first episode shows their encounter and how they end up taking a boat out for a spin. The boat runs out of fuel and they decide to paddle to the nearest land, Mako Island, where all three of them fall into a crater of a dormant volcano. Their only way out is to dive through the reef. While the girls are in the water, the moon shines over the volcano and the water around them begins to bubble. The next day, after making it out of the crater, the girls grow tails and develop superpowers over water.
Already in the first episode, many Australian characteristics, such as the setting of the series, can be seen. Set on the Gold Coast, the series features a very summery beach and surf aesthetic that non-natives often associate with Australia. Another very Australian feature is the production, including the actors and their distinctive accents. All of this supports the authenticity of the show. But these are not the only aspects. The show also shows a connection to the mermaid myth, also known as the Yawkyawk, of the Aboriginal people.
The Yawkyawk is a female creature originating from the mythology of Aboriginal people from the northern territories of Australia. Yawkyawk translates to “young girl with a fish tail” and resembles mermaids with seaweed for hair. They are described as freshwater creatures that lived in lakes and rivers. In addition, the Yawkyawk were able to shapeshift into snakes, crocodiles, swordfish, or other animals, and they could manipulate the weather when they were angry. Thus, they played a major role in the indigenous culture and language. Aboriginal paintings depicting the Yawkyawk creatures still hang in Australia’s national museums.
Knowing this myth, one can assume that the show H20: Just Add Water was inspired by it. The main similarities that stand out are the fishtails, obviously, but especially the supernatural powers that the girls develop in the series. Each of them develops a different power, such as freezing, boiling, and moving water. Often these powers are used when they get angry or try to help their friends. Later in the series, weather control also is revealed as a mermaid power. The existence of the myth is also mentioned in the series, when they try to find out more about the origin of the mermaids.
However, there are also many differences between the depiction of the mermaids in the show and in the myth. The Yawkyawk are said to live in the water, while the girls in the series only grow tails when they touch the water. Their superpowers are also different from those of the Yawkyawk in most cases. These differences can be attributed to the fact that it is a children´s show. The myth of the mermaid is found in many different cultures, such as Native Americans, ancient Greeks, Asians, etc., and they are usually associated with negative expectations. In some cultures, the creatures are described as possessors, sirens, or unlucky omens that bring disaster or attract and kill sailors. It is to be expected that these characteristics are not appropriate for a show aimed at a young audience. In summary, despite the differences, the show is a good example of typical Australian culture and emphasizes the reference to Aboriginal mythology. Thus, it raises awareness and brings us closer to the indigenous culture.
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The Infinite Man is a 2014 Australian science-fiction film directed by Hugh Sullivan that is about Dean, a scientist, who wishes to relive a special weekend he had with his girlfriend Lana. When Lana’s ex-boyfriend Terry interrupts them, Dean tries to make things right by traveling back in time. The film takes place in only one location, the hotel where said special weekend took place, and only has three characters.
The limited setting, few characters, and time travel plot are the things that drew me to this movie in the first place. It is quite similar to the movie Coherence (2013), which I think is one of the most innovative thrillers I´ve seen recently. However, The Infinite Man develops more into the genres of romance and comedy, whereas Coherence belongs to the surreal and thriller genres.
I had high hopes for this movie, but I ended up being a little bit disappointed and by the end, confused. This doesn´t mean it was bad, I just didn´t like it as much as I expected it to. The first part of the movie intrigued me, but started to feel a bit static; in the middle and toward the end of the movie the cleverly written dialogue helped turn the movie around.
The very first thing we see is Dean, while his inner monologue is heard, where he talks about loving his girlfriend and understanding her neurochemically, in a way that nobody else can. He believes he is the only one that can make her happy because, having studied her from the perspective of a scientist, he knows exactly how. This sets an interesting tone for the movie and I expected that we delve into the scientific details behind Dean´s knowledge of Lana, but that never happened.
The overall plot was well structured. It had very few plot holes, which was quite surprising, but it lacked the clarity needed to understand the movie. I think that maybe a small difference in the characters´ appearance for each time travel loop would have helped. I understand that in order to relive the weekend Dean wants every character to wear the same clothing each time; after all, if the perfect weekend happened once, why shouldn´t it work again, if the same conditions and circumstances are met? But a small change in hair color, hairstyle, or facial hair would have helped the viewer a lot.
If one wants an interesting plot and an exploration of time travel, the movie falls slightly short, as it is easy to get confused with the timeline. This confusion can be solved by some research, which led me to a website that explains the different time travel plots in detail and even includes a chart.[1]
While the plot is lacking, if anybody needs inspiration for unique directing, cinematography and editing, this is by all means the movie to watch.
The technical aspects of the movie, are just beautiful. The colors have a specific yellow and orange vintage look about them and the notable choice of music both make for a unique viewing experience. Especially eye-catching is the way the camera follows our characters, more specifically the way it follows the places Dean points to when he shows Lana where they were last year. Additionally, the film editing is very striking, in the way it cuts to different paintings and even the list Dean made for the perfect weekend, as are the different transitions used in the film.
Overall the movie is fun to experience, but difficult to grasp without looking at some sort of explanation. Still, it can be enjoyable and even interesting to watch, if you like unique technical aspects such as camera work and film editing.
For my last blog post I have again chosen a short story to write about. The short story, “Melbourne Calling” by Silvia Brown, doesn’t seem to have much to do with horror at first. However, monsters are mentioned from the beginning, which Colin apparently sees. The monsters he mentions, however, seem to come from his subconscious and are therefore less real. “I closed my eyes and counted to three like the psych had suggested and the vision went away, leaving a path of slime over my shoes” (140).
The story seems like a normal teenage – love story with the difference being that this is not a traditional, heteronormative couple, but a homosexual one. The two are portrayed in a very cute way. They seem to have really searched for and found each other. Due to the depiction of their relationship, as a reader one feels wrapped in a warm and cozy blanket. It recalls one´s first love and the strong emotions and sensations felt at that intense time. Typical and comprehensible is also that Collin and Josh have their own song “London Calling”, which they even personalise for themselves into “Melbourne Calling” (142). The title of the story already indicates that this song will be significant for the plot.
Out of nowhere, the boys are attacked by an old man and Josh is killed in the attack. “A blast went off as the headphones snapped onto his ears. Flesh exploded. Glass and wood shattered. [… I] saw the broken window […], and what was left of Josh, the pointy end of a shotgun still levelled at where his head had been” (144 – 145). As a reader, you are torn from the cozy blanket and thrown into a pool of freezing water. You might expect a supernatural monster, like the one in Colin’s wardrobe, but no. The monster described here is a man who wants to kill, or kills two boys. “The old man behind the gun looked me in the eye, seemingly indifferent to the loss of life and property” (45). Definitely such people can be called monsters. Monsters are not only slimy creatures with tentacles, but also people without hearts and empathy. However, the old man is in Colin’s eyes not only a human monster but also a fantastic one. “The old man´s partly hidden features became more obvious as he moved into the light of the store window. His human face fell into a mass of feelers from the lips down, minuscule tentacles lurking in all directions” (145). As a reader, one is not quite sure if this monster is real or if just Colin’s mind portraying this man as a monster.
The story only becomes clearly fantastic at the end, when the song “London Calling” is heard again by Colin. The song seems to have created such a strong connection between him and Josh that he seems to hear his voice calling his name (146). Colin follows the voice in his mind and thereby loses himself in “limbo” (146), where he finds Josh. Now they can sing together again, “from the top of [their] lungs” (146). The story ends on a sad note, since both boys are dead. Colin seems to have died too, as he is said to fall “into the abyss” (146). Nevertheless, one also feels a positive or lightening feeling, knowing that at the very least Josh and Colin are together.
“In telling this tale, we were informed by two sets of stories that are the inheritance of Aboriginal peoples. The first set are stories of our homelands, families, cultures; the stories that speak to the connections which sustain us and which we sustain in turn. The second set are the tales that entered our worlds with colonization; stories of the violence that was terrifyingly chaotic or even more terrifyingly organized on a systemic scale. Both sets of stories inform our existences, and thus our storytelling.”
(Kwaymullina 191)
Spoilers ahead!
Catching Teller Crow is a novel about a grieving father, Michael Teller, that can see the ghost of his daughter Beth. Michael Teller is a police detective and was sent to investigate a murder in a rural Australian town. During the investigation Beth notices another ghost following them and befriends her. And as it turns out, the girl, called Catching, is the key to solving the murder and uncovering the town’s secret.
The novel deals with many different topics such as grief, trauma, and relationships. It is clear from the first page that Beth is worried about her father as he does not deal with well with Beth and her mother’s respective deaths. If we were to see the ghost of someone close to us, we would probably assume that we are losing our mind or that it is a manifestation of our grief. But for Aboriginal people this would not be that strange. Some Aboriginal people believe that humans go through different stages of existence (cf. Books+Publishing). Similarly, that everything is connected is part of Aboriginal systems (cf. Kwaymillina 2013, 4). So seeing a ghost would not be that strange as they are just souls at another part of existence. And because everything is related, Beth’s and Catching’s stories are related even across time.
Beth and Catching tell their stories in different ways. Beth ‘talks’ in prose. Catching in verse. According to the authors, Beth’s voice is like a river ‘sometimes fast and sometimes slow, but always saying a lot’ and Catching’s voice is like ‘the beat of the rain, sometimes steady and sometimes sharp and uneven. She says little, but every word has weight.’ (Wyld). Even though both stories have a lot to say about the two girls, Catching’s verse makes her story feel more important- and it’s not just the words either. The historical implications behind her story, the being taken by strangers, being talked about as if she isn’t there, the fear, makes it feel real.
Let’s now talk about Crow, the last girl mentioned in the title of the novel. Crow is and remains a mystery in the novel, but her being a crow tells us a lot. Crows are most known to represent good or bad omens- even death. But those black birds are also known for their intelligence and adaptability. They can also be a sign for transformation and the future. And maybe this is all true for Catching Teller Crow as in the end of the novel (the chapter called ‘The Beginning’) all three girls turn to crows.
“We bathed in the clouds and sang in the sun and let the world paint our souls and our souls paint the world. And wherever we went, we went together.”
(Kwaymullina 190)
References:
Books+Publishing. “Reaching out: Ambelin and Ezekiel Kwaymillina on ‘Catchin Teller Crow’”. https://www.booksandpublishing.com.au/articles/2018/07/05/110945/re aching-out-ambelin-and-ezekiel-kwaymullina-on-catching-teller-crow/. Accessed Feb. 19, 2023.
Kwaymullina, A., B. Kwaymullina, and L. Butterly. “Living Texts: A Perspective on Published Sources, Indigenous Research Methodologies and Indigenous Worldviews”. International Journal of Critical Indigenous Studies, vol. 6, no. 1, Jan. 2013, pp. 1-13, doi:10.5204/ijcis.v6i1.106.
The gaming industry is notoriously known to struggle with representation of diverse characters. Protagonists still tend to be male, white, cis, and able-bodied most of the time. AAA titles with the most basic protagonists still make tons of profit, while male gamers with a sexist mindset often react with outrage when faced with one of the rare, non-sexualized representations of women, because ‘everything has to be woke nowadays’. Despite more than valid criticisms and controversies surrounding the company and its policies, Blizzard’s 2016 game Overwatch (upgraded to Overwatch 2 in October ’22), offers a rather exemplary diverse roster of characters for its player base of up to 1 million daily players.
Overwatch is a multiplayer first-person-shooter, commonly described as a ‘hero shooter’. In hero shooters, the gameplay relies on each of the characters’ unique abilities. With a heavy focus on individual characters, representation matters even more than normal. And not everything is bad in the case of this sometimes quite controversial game.
The game takes place in a distant future, with extremely advanced technologies, fully sentient robots, genetically enhanced gorillas and hamsters. The Overwatch is an international task force established to ensure global stability in the face of the robot rebellion against their human creators: the so called Omnic Crisis. In this setting, Australia has a somewhat unique status, as it is a barren, barely inhabitable wasteland, almost completely destroyed in said crisis. Accordingly, the Australian characters are heavily inspired by the post-apocalyptic world of Mad Max. Their chaotic personalities contrast with many of the other heroes, who neatly fit into different, mostly futuristic hero archetypes.
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Junkrat
The first character to look at is the attack hero Junkrat, who would be the result of what happens if you put a mad genius, DC’s Joker and a whole lot of Mad Max into a blender. He is represented as insane to the point of being self-destructive, sporting a self-made mechanical arm and leg. Even in the chaotic environment of this destroyed Australia, disabilities are not a dealbreaker. On the contrary, Junkrat is crafty enough to design his own prosthetics, even without access to the sleek-looking prosthetics some of his colleagues use (sometimes to enhance their abilities). Still, he is one of the heroes with the highest damage output and quite some manoeuvrability, simply due to him not caring about his own physical well-being.
His weapons of choice are a whole lot of bombs, a bear-trap and a remote-controlled exploding tire. Everything about Junkrat is chaotic, from his scorched, still burning hair to his crazed laughter. He even drops bombs upon being killed. While other heroes use high-tech equipment, Junkrat relies on the power of pure destruction inflicted by his rusty DIY gadgets, truly making the best out of his post-apocalyptic home country.
Junkrat’s voice actor (US American Chris Parson) attempts to mimic an Australian accent, but he is American, nonetheless. Blizzard seems to have learned their lesson in this regard, as the newest released Australian hero, Junker Queen, has an Australian voice actress (Leah De Neise), as well as a few Aussie slang voice lines (for example: “Oi! Pick up your feet, ya’ drongos!”)
Junker Queen
Junker Queen, a tank hero, is an extremely tall and muscular woman, using a shotgun, an axe, and a throwing knife. She combines the brute force of melee attacks with her passive ability that allows her to heal herself in relation to damage dealt to enemy heroes. In her case, hurting others means to protect yourself and your teammates. Additionally, she is one of the most self-confident characters in the game. This translates into an aggressive play-style, which spreads over to the other heroes: Her ability Commanding Shout is a fierce battle cry giving allies a health buff. In Junker Queen’s work environment, you just scream at your colleagues to protect them.
She is not only the tallest woman in the game (only towered over by the other Australian tank, two robots and the German man in giant armour) but is also equipped with an unapologetic brawler attitude rarely seen in female characters.
As her name suggests, she is the queen of one of the escort maps, Junkertown. Junkertown is built out of the remains of an Omnic factory in the Australian Outback. In Junker Queen’s cinematic short movie, we get a glimpse of a popular hobby in this rather dangerous Australian society: Fighting in the Scrapyard, a gladiatorial arena located in the Junkertown map. We get to see the rough society of Overwatch’s Australia, their use of scrap technology, as well as their awesome queen being the best tank of the game (not biased at all). She is presented as a woman who could not care less about gender roles, while at the same time not remaining one-dimensional or unreasonably violent. Junker Queen is not only surviving in post-apocalyptic Australia, but thriving:
Roadhog
The remaining character is another tank: Roadhog, who is Junkrat’s bodyguard. He is a fat man in a mask, mainly communicating in grunts. His outfit’s accessories further hint at road movies, with a spiked tire on his shoulder and a license place as his belt buckle. His weapons are a shotgun and a hook he can use to pull other heroes towards him and finally…”Whole Hog”; some kind of modification to his gun making it look like a meatgrinder firing bullets in a cone in front of him. To restore health, he inhales from his “hogdrogen” (not a typo). Roadhog, similarly to his boss, is a character mirroring the radiated wasteland they are inhabiting. Due to his hostile environment, he has abandoned much of his humanity and has become whole hog himself. Thus, it is still unknown what his face looks like.
While Roadhog is designed in the same Mad Max aesthetic, one aspect differentiates him from the other two. While his ‘official’ nationality is Australian, is has been heavily hinted that Roadhog, whose real name is Mako Rutledge, is of Māori descent.
His first name means ‘shark’ in Māori. Additionally, his ‘Toa’ and ‘Islander’ skins reference Polynesian cultures, including a stuck-out tongue reminiscent of the haka, as well as tribal tattoos. In game, he can also be heard saying “If I wanted to go to the wop-wops, I could have stayed at home.” This “is strictly an informal noun in New Zealand as opposed to Australia which uses ‘out in the sticks’ to imply that it is out in the middle of nowhere.” (Overwatch Wiki)
While Overwatch had some controversies regarding cultural appropriation, it is not unlikely that Mako is a intended to be of Māori descent, as there “are over 170,000 Māori living in Australia – 20 percent of all Māori”. (rnz.co.nz) It is an interesting nod to the relation between the two neighbouring countries, and I was not aware of this demographic situation before looking up the reasons for the controversy surrounding Roadhog’s nationality. Unfortunately, Roadhog’s voice actor is another US American (Josh Petersdorfs). Blizzard missed the great opportunity to give this role to a native Māori, providing some of the much-needed visibility to a marginalised group of people.
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Overwatch sticks to clichés, but it does so consistently with all its characters (the German character Reinhardt does, of course, have beer related voice lines and I can definitely identify with VA Darin De Paul’s fake German accent). The game is walking the fine line between cultural appropriation and cultural appreciation. Generally, characters stereotyped according to their nationality have become a popular trope in hero shooters.
When it comes to proper representation, Blizzard still has plenty of room for improvement, especially compared with other games such as Respawn’s battle royale Apex Legends (2019), which also includes characters from New Zealand and Australia, respectively voiced by voice actors of those nationalities.
The American voice actors deliver a decent imitation of an Australian accent (though I am no expert whatsoever). Nevertheless, Leah de Niese performance as Junker Queen is the absolute best. But overall, the idea kind of works. All characters are unique and charming, with the Australians delivering plenty of personality and some of the most powerful gameplay.
Finally, one last thing that is interesting to observe is the in-game roles of the characters. Roadhog and Junker Queen are tanks, whose main role it is to shield their teammates and soak up incoming damage. Often, tanks are characters that are physically extremely strong. Junkrat is an attack hero, whose main role it is to deal as much damage as possible. There is no Australian hero in the support category. I would love to see how an Australian healer would look like in the Overwatch universe. Or is the lack of a support hero a subliminal message about Australia’s image as a hostile and dangerous environment producing confident, reckless, and extremely self-sufficient personalities? After all, if there is no healer on your team, Junker Queen quips: “Yousofties need a healer!”
A tale about love, hope and exile, inspired by a true story.
“Bury me, my Love” is a video game that deals with migration, the search for refuge, war, and fate. Unlike other visual narratives, “Bury me, my Love” requires the reader to actively engage in the game and to make difficult decisions. The story will change its course depending on which decisions the player has taken.
The tale begins in Syria on March 4th 2015. Nour and her husband, Majd want to leave war-ridden Syria. Nour, a medical professional, manages to get a visa for Turkey and starts her journey to Europe. Majd is a teacher and has to stay back. The player can influence Nour’s movement via text chat; however, Nour also has a mind of her own, which means that she may not do what the player/Majd asks her to do. On her journey, Nour meets with scammers, racists and more, but she also encounters one or two friendly faces. The player can often choose between sending Nour a text message, an emote or a selfie (of Majd).
An example of Nour’s stubbornness can be found in the beginning. Sadly there is a shooting on her way to the airport. Therefore, Nour decides to go the cheaper route through Damascus, even though the texts that I had chosen and therefore Majd’s answers should have discouraged her.
The decisions that Majd has to make often are hard. After Nour has made it to Izmir because a friend of Majd knows a smuggler there and this friend safely made it to the UK, she contacted the original smuggler and a couple more. Now, the first smuggler is a bit cheaper (900€), but he will only leave the next day and there are 50 people on a 9-meter boat, which is quite a lot. The other smuggler that Nour has found on Facebook will leave tonight, takes 1100€ but guarantees that no more than 40 people will be on board. Now, the following screenshot shows the decision the player has to make after receiving that information.
Which decision am I going to make? Will I go with the presumably trusted but also more dangerous smuggler? Or the more expensive and possibly safer alternative? One of these decisions could cost Nour her life and that is quite a scary thought. It has to be taken into consideration that Nour only got 2,500€, and her journey won’t be over after taking a boat to Greece.
After three playthroughs it becomes clear how difficult it is to get to a safe place, however, on the third playthrough I finally managed to get Nour into Germany.
Experience and Review
Playing the game was an incredibly frustrating experience. Not only is it so hard to get Nour to a safe place, but you’ll also have to read a lot of their chat while only being able to make very few decisions. One playthrough can take up to four hours, which is quite headache-inducing due to the repetitiveness of the gameplay: Read Nour’s messages, read Majd’s automated messages, choose a response, and read Nour’s messages. This may, however, show how difficult it is to be in Majd’s position, who can only watch his phone and wait for Nour’s messages.
Also, things often didn’t go the intended way and that was annoying as well. If a decision was made, it was impossible to go back and retake it, and if Nour died due to the decisions taken, the game had to be played again – from the beginning. There are also so many decisions that it feels impossible to remember which ones I’ve taken in an earlier playthrough. Hence, it would be nice if it was possible to go back to certain chapters in Nour’s and Majd’s journey and see how other decisions would affect her.
Furthermore, the game evokes a sad atmosphere thanks to the music that is played at certain points in the game. The music has a nostalgic undertone, is sad, and often feels a little dramatic. Sometimes the music also sounds almost hopeful. The music underlines the fact that we’re witnessing a family that is being torn apart. A husband who helplessly has to see his wife leave without him. A journey that is dangerous and may separate them infinitely. You can go here to listen to the soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=THLFaJxo-v8
Pat Grant’s graphic novel The Grot was published by Top Shelf Productions in 2020 and is a collaboration with the artist Fionn McCabe. It is the first of three books that together form the collection The Story of the Swamp City Grifters. Grant wanted to tell a story about con-artists but was facing the problem that in our modern time most of the scamming happens online. Since he thought a story that mainly takes place on the internet would not be interesting enough, he wanted to come up with a different, but still modern setting. Therefore, he created a dystopian Australia ‘ravaged by a plague, filled with con-artists swindling others in a world where people are scrambling for resources and constantly taking a crack at hitting big and becoming rich’. (Petras, 2020) A place called Falter City becomes a magnet for people who are looking to make a fortune, but instead, they are confronted with disease, greed, and foul play.
The reason for the downfall of the world as we know it is not mentioned in the visual narrative. Similarly, the reader does not get to know the details about why people can get so rich in Falter City. It becomes clear that there is a special type of algae that is very valuable. Ryan Carey suggests that the world in Pat Grant’s graphic novel has changed so drastically because of climate change, and that the algae might be some kind of energy source. (Carey, 2020) The world Grant creates may also remind the reader of the North American Gold Rush, during which people also left everything behind to travel across the country in the hope of becoming rich.
In Pat Grant’s graphic novel The Grot, the reader follows the two brothers Lipton and Penn, who make their way to Falter City with their mother and plan on becoming rich by selling medicinal yogurt. On their journey, it becomes clear very quickly that their hopes might be naïve and that life in the swam is very dangerous due to a plague, a lot of fraud, and horrific work conditions. Lipton and his family receive multiple warnings. For example, when they arrive in Falter City a lot of people are waiting at the harbor. A man tells them: ‘Most of them are trying to leave. Not everyone gets rich out here and if you can’t afford the ticket then the only way back is to work your way back… fight for a spot on the pedal deck.’ (Grant, 2020) But the family is blind to all the warning signs and so full of greed that they choose to ignore the misery that is surrounding them everywhere in this hostile environment.
The relationship between Lipton and Penn is full of tension and mistrust, and in an interview, Grant stated that he is very interested in sibling relationships. The two can be seen as dual protagonists. While Lipton is trying to make his mother proud and succeed, Penn is not really interested in setting up their business. They spent most of their time in Falter City separated from one another but are both outsmarted by con-artists in the end. (Carey, 2020)
Grant’s first graphic novel Blue, which was published in 2013, already made it clear that the artist is not afraid to present unsympathetic and disagreeable protagonists. While Lipton seems quite naïve but could still be seen as a sympathetic character, his brother Penn, his mother, and basically every other character are far from likable. For example, Lipton’s mother states that she wants her son to profit from the diseases that are killing many people in Falter City. (Grant, 2020)
Pat Grant’s art style is very unique and contributes a lot to the uneasy feeling that the reader is left with after finishing the story. The artist uses mainly brown, green, red, and yellow in his panels. These muddy and earthy tones create a discomforting and dense atmosphere. In addition, Grant is not afraid to show ugliness, which adds to the unpleasant feeling. The artist has been praised by critics for his drawings. For example, Carey wrote: ‘These pages don’t just look good, they look great – and while no art is “perfect” in and of itself, this art is perfectly and uniquely suited to tell this story.’ (Carey, 2020)
Other than the specific art style, another quality of the graphic novel lies in its very authentic dialogues. Grant manages to remind the reader of the Australians ‘characteristically blunt method of communication and inherently wry sense of humor […].’ (Carey, 2020)
In terms of the topic of migration, one could say that TheGrot is very different from the other visual narratives that we discussed in our class – the main difference being the reasons and motivations behind migration. While we got to know a lot of comics and graphic novels where people are forced to relocate, the families in The Grot move because they want to make a fortune. Therefore, we also have a different social composition in Falter city than in the spaces where other visual narratives take place. In most of those, we have a small group of migrants that comes to a foreign place, where there is already an established community living. This often leads to tensions between the two groups. In Falter City on the other hand, it seems that almost everybody is a migrant. Still, with the following quote, it becomes clear that this place also has a history of repression of other cultures: “Here they are…the five islands. Each island used to have an indigenous name but no-one remembers those.” (Grant, 2020) This quote, among other, shows that Grant is also subtly criticizing society.
Sources:
Grant, Pat. The Grot. Top Shelf, 2020.
Belinda, Yohana. “The Grot“, A Telltale of Con Artists during Pandemic by Pat Grant. thedisplay.net, 2020. (https://thedisplay.net/2020/06/15/the-grot-pat-grant/)
Carey, Ryan. Swamp Thing: Ryan Carey Reviews The Grot By Pat Grant. solrad.com, 2020. (https://solrad.co/swamp-thing-ryan-carey-reviews-the-grot-by-pat-grant)
Petras, Matt. Pat Grant, ‘The Grot,’ and the difficult, demanding task of creating a graphic novel. sequentialstories.com, 2020. (https://sequentialstories.com/2020/07/29/pat-grant-the-grot-and-the-difficult-demanding-task-of-creating-a-graphic-novel/)
