Trailer Trash | A Coffee for Carrie

You folks know me by now. As often as not, I'm all about the horror — and at this time of year, there's normally no stopping me. But to be perfectly frank, I could give a flying fig about Kimberly Pierce's forthcoming remake of Carrie.

From the latest trailer, it looks like a shot-for-shot retread of Brian de Palma's classic adaptation of the original Stephen King story:

Maybe it's just me, but I simply don't see the need — never mind the fact that I don't buy Chloë Grace Moretz as a high school outcast for a single solitary second.

On the other hand, something fun has come of this brand new Carrie. It's led, of late, to some instant classic viral marketing. The following was filmed at a New York coffee shop:

Incredibly, this clip has already clocked up in excess of 16 million views at the time of this writing, and it was only uploaded on Monday. I suppose I can see why. I for one can't help but wonder what I'd have done in the same situation... other, that is, than run.

Mind you, the canny marketing of Carrie doesn't make me any more likely to invest in any way, shape or form in this ridiculous reboot.

But I Digress | Mass Cause and Effect, or, The End Again

The lifers amongst you might remember how oddly unmoved I was by the build-up to Mass Effect 3, which is to say the conclusion - for the moment - of one of my favourite video game series of recent years.

The marketing, I think, was what put me off before the fact: the decision to focus on the extraneous multiplayer mode BioWare had developed for the latest iteration of their acclaimed space opera.

I play, shall we say, quite a lot of video games, but only rarely do I mess about with multiplayer modes. In large part that's because of the exceedingly unpleasant people one often encounters online. I have very little desire to be called a faggot by fourteen year olds who are nevertheless substantially better at shooting dudes in the face than I'll ever be. And there's another thing to consider: the vast time investment it takes to be good enough at any one game - every one of which has its particular idiosyncrasies to consider - to compete with other people, even the complete and utter asshats aforementioned, in a public arena.

The older you get, I guess, the less free time you have to devote to such things. So when BioWare's publicity peeps started pimping Mass Effect 3's multiplayer instead of talking about narrative or character or innovations on the single-player side of the divide, I'll admit: I kinda sorta switched off.

And then there was that fuss about how the man hours devoted to Mass Effect 3's counter-intuitive horde mode had to have impacted the single-player campaign. I didn't mean to pay any attention to this, the latest in a long line of idiot uproars - sight-unseen, such judgements are surely beyond pointless - but as release date loomed, I realised that I wasn't at all excited about finally finishing the fight.

Or wait, was that another game?

In any event, what with all of the above - and my month in America fast approaching to boot - I opted to rent Mass Effect 3 instead of buying it, as I bought the first and second installment in this singular series. Also worth taking into account: I was 30 hours into Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning at the time of Mass Effect 3's release, and determined to beat it before I started in on another mammoth RPG. This took a lot longer than I'd imagined - in point of fact I only finished the first in the Amalur franchise last week - and by the time I was ready to pick up something else, Mass Effect 3 was no longer a priority.

I'll bet you can imagine why.

If you're interested in video games at all, you'll have heard about the averse reaction the latest Mass Effect inspired in its very vocal player-base. Perhaps that's to overstate the case somewhat - specifically it was the ending that people reacted badly to - but one way or the other, Mass Effect 3 went down like a lead balloon. Like a bitter pill no-one wanted to swallow... especially the franchise's die-hard fans, seventy-some thousand of whom have since signed their names to a petition made directly to the developers to have the game's cheat of an ending altered.

Which is and was all well and good - indeed, it raises a fairly fascinating question we'll talk more about tomorrow - but again, I tried not to let it affect me. Here on The Speculative Scotsman I've talked about my issues with The End, in the abstract, time and time again: about how tricky it is to offer closure to all comers at the same time as maintaining some sense of mystery or suspense in your story.

In short, I'm no stranger to unsatisfactory endings - to a certain extent I expect them, these days - so if Mass Effect 3 was going to go out with a pitiful whimper rather than the almighty bang I think we can all agree the series has earned, then sure, that's a shame... but so be it. The End is still The End even when we wish it weren't.

Or is it?

As it happened, it certainly wasn't as simple as that when it came to Mass Effect 3. Because in early April, in response to the fan campaign and the various critical complaints leveled against the conclusion in question, the boffins behind BioWare and the Mass Effect franchise came out with this priceless piece of pandering:

"We are all incredibly proud of Mass Effect 3 and the work done by Casey Hudson and team," said Dr. Ray Muzyka, Co-Founder of BioWare and General Manager of EA’s BioWare Label. "Since launch, we have had time to listen to the feedback from our most passionate fans and we are responding. With the Mass Effect 3: Extended Cut we think we have struck a good balance in delivering the answers players are looking for while maintaining the team’s artistic vision for the end of this story arc in the Mass Effect universe."

Casey Hudson, Executive Producer of the Mass Effect series added, "We have reprioritized our post-launch development efforts to provide the fans who want more closure with even more context and clarity to the ending of the game, in a way that will feel more personalized for each player."

Oh is that so?

That was the final nail in the coffin for me and Mass Effect 3, at least for the time being. I'm going to return my rented copy to LoveFilm and potentially re-assess the situation when this so-called Extended Cut is made available.

But even then: at the point at which creators are willing to fundamentally change their creations simply to satisfy some embarrassing collective clamour - and from the internet, of all places - what artistic integrity can they truly lay claim to?

Whether I end up playing Mass Effect 3 or not - and sooner or later I expect I will - for me at least, its narrative is now null and void. And given how meaningful that narrative had been to me before all the awkwardness over Mass Effect 3, that's markedly more troubling than any misstep BioWare may or may not have made in the game's conclusion as was.

You Tell Me | Referential Marketing and The Uglies

I burbled a bit about The Hunger Games on Monday, in Bargain Books, and if you cast your minds back, you might remember that I also made mention of them last Thursday, in my review of Julianna Baggot's disappointing Pure. So obviously the marketing campaign for the new movie has done the trick!

Not that that's the point I mean to make. Bear with me a moment here, and we'll find our way back to the start. First we need to factor in a third thing: another notable dystopia. Indeed, one near and dear to many hearts.

That'd be the Uglies books, by Scott Westerfeld.

Very recently Simon & Schuster revealed "incredible" new covers for all three volumes. Actually, for three of the four... because trilogies are the in thing, I suspect, and anyway Extras occupies an odd spot in the series. But here, in any event, are the new jackets:

Utterly unremarkable, aren't they?

Which is a shame, on several fronts: in the first, because this series had some pretty damn decent covers to begin with - use your google-fu, folks - but largely because with The Hunger Games in ascendance, this might be the moment to win over a fair few new readers, and these new editions aren't going to earn any admirers.

Or are they?

As a matter of fact, I think they might.

Because Simon & Schuster's marketing department hasn't entirely missed its chance to piggyback the Uglies books on this latest wave of love for The Hunger Games. Quite the contrary: you probably can't see the text at the top of each of the images embedded above, so let's recap.

The Uglies!

Which is... well. You tell me.

I don't suppose I'm terribly offended. On behalf of the series, that is. I don't think the new jackets are going to entirely outmode the old covers, and maybe a simple message like this will bring renewed interest in Scott Westerfeld's work. Hard-earned interest, I should stress. Westerfeld's quite the writer, and I can't imagine anyone who reads the Uglies because they want something not dissimilar from The Hunger Games will go home disappointed.

Still, the idea of selling one work on the merits of another troubles me somewhat, and I want to know: what do you guys think about this sort of... referential marketing? Good, bad, or butt-ugly?

And another thing. If we extend the question out a bit, how do reviews which make such comparisons sit with you?

Let's bring things full circle with a for instance. In my review of Pure - which is here - I didn't just namecheck Suzanne Collins' sensational trilogy, I took Baggot's book to task (in part) because I felt it lacked The Hunger Games' heart, and the two texts were similar enough in every other sense that I thought it'd be disingenuous of me to omit the mention. Was that a helpful sort of shorthand, or simply lazy criticism?

Honestly, I can't quite decide myself...

So how do you folks feel about all this?

Let's talk it out in the comments! :)

Short Story Corner | Mile 81 by Stephen King

Stephen King has spent what seems a disproportionate amount of time and energy writing about evil cars.

Not, I think, the strongest of concepts in the first place - though there is, admittedly, a certain material menace to these multi-tonne monsters with metallic grilles for grimaces - nor have any of Christine, Under the Dome, From a Buick 8 and so on and so forth convinced me that I'm missing something pivotal. In any event King has systematically mined this minor idea for what little it's worth, and then some.

And then a modicum more! 

And yet. In Mile 81, an exclusive e-book released this September to whet appetites for 11.22.63, the latest tome to come from the undisputed King of pop horror, the man's at it again; albeit on a much more minor scale. Mile 81 is at heart the story of one Pete Simmons, a little fella to his chagrin abandoned by the rapscallions his big brother runs with. Thus on his lonesome one afternoon, and armed only with a magnifying glass which he may or may not use to terrorise ants, Pete steals along to a legendary rest stop he's heard whispers about - signposted as per the title of this short story, and of course abandoned to the hijinx of experimental children - where who knows what adult delights await him?

In fact he finds a half-full bottle of vodka on the road there, and more spread-legged centerfolds pinned to the walls of the rest stop - an eerie Burger King gone to grime - than a ten year old (going on eleven) could ever imagine. Pete takes in his fill of both of these things and promptly falls asleep, sated.

But in the parking lot an old station wagon rolls up, with an unholy appetite fit to put Pete's to shame. Covered in muck and empty, so far as anyone can tell, the car's door creaks open... but no driver steps out.

Mile 81 he is long enough by short story standards, but only that because in place of proferring a single victim to demonstrate the inhuman hunger of this vile vehicle, King devotes one, then another, then a practically a whole family, by which point the point has been so belaboured as to test one's patience. Only then do we return to Pete, who's slept like a baby through all this awfulness. Saying that, Pete has a trick or two up his sleeve, and for once the last of Mile 81's six quick chapters claws an amount of the narrative's early mystery and tension back from the great car showroom in the sky.

Mile 81 is never, however, better than it is during that first chapter, which brings - yes - The Body (aka Stand By Me) to mind, and moments of Joe Hill's Horns. But this short story is also symptomatic of the worst of Stephen King: count among some truly terrible product placement, including tips of the hat to Christine - the film rather than the novel - and the comic book American Vampire, which King is of course also involved in. I could have stomached these metatextual references with little ill will... even the heads-ups to Harry Potter and Doctor Who have their place, I suppose.

But this:

"The beauty of the parked cruiser, at least in Maine State Trooper Jimmy Golding's opinion, was that you didn't really need to do anything [...] All his attention was on the iPad propped against the lower arc of the steering wheel.

"He was playing a Scrabble-like game called Words With Friends, his Internet connection provided by AT&T."

I'll thank you not to do that EVER AGAIN, Stephen King!

I am not much amused, obviously. But Mile 81 does feature an excerpt of 11.22.63, King's forthcoming tome about time travel and the assassination of JFK, and it's actually not half bad. So there's that.

That and the first chapter, which for all my criticisms is legitimately interesting. Would that Mile 81 had remained so...

EA's Inferno: The Book of the Video Game of the Book

In what has to be the single dumbest piece of news this decade, video-game blogzilla Kotaku reported late last night that to tie in with the forthcoming release of Dead Space developer Visceral Games' next project, Dante's Inferno, publisher EA have announced they will be releasing a special edition of the first part of that 14th-century poet's Divine Comedy.

The cover of this ghastly practical joke is, of course, adorned with concept art from the latest in a recent string of shameless God of War knock-offs. Dante's Inferno will cast players as none other than the author of the Inferno himself, although standing in for the "supreme poet" of fact will be a muscular, crusading Alighieri. He will proceed, you can be certain, to hack, slash and use his well documented magical powers - the Holy Cross amongst them, I kid you not - to dismember many thousands of innocent fantastical creatures on his bitter quest for revenge through the nine circles of Hell.

You know what? I'll play this game. Its ridiculous repurposing of untouchable literature aside, Dante's Inferno looks like a great deal of fun. But this... surely, this is a case of one marketing tactic too far. Just imagine movie trailer voice-over guy reading out the sales pitch.

"The literary classic that inspired the epic video game" indeed.

On the other hand, if EA's cynical repackaging of a 700 year old epic poem tricks a few illiterate gamers into reading even a sliver of classical literature, I suppose it's a case of no harm, no foul.

I can't decide whether to be bemused or outraged.