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blackjack-15 · 3 years

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Are You Poe-ndering What I’m Poe-ndering? — Thoughts on: Warnings at Waverly Academy (WAC)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI, SHA, CUR, CLK, TRN, DAN, CRE, ICE, CRY, VEN, HAU, RAN

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas (or not links, as tumblr is freaking out with links).

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: WAC, mention of Sabrina the Teenage Witch (the OG live-action show not the horrible CW monstrosity); discussion of the Poe short stories “The Imp of the Perverse” and “The Black Cat”.

The Intro:

It’s time to go to school, y’all — and not just any school; a rich, elite, all-girls school. Welcome to the jungle.

Warnings at Waverly Academy is one of two games that I don’t sort into a category (like “Expanded” “Jetsetting” or “Odd”), the other being the game that follows it (TOT). There are a few reasons for this — the next category really doesn’t apply, but neither does the previous category, WAC and TOT both feature a gradual shift in tone and approach to the games, etc. If I really had to pick a designation, I’d say that these are the “Growing Pains” games, where the world gets a little bit more open — but not all at once, the characters get a little more fleshed out — but not by much, and a few new things are tried with our character rolls — to varying degrees of success.

On the whole, WAC tackles its efforts far better than TOT does, but it does make for a slightly less interesting meta if one was just to focus on what WAC does wrong and what it does right. Instead, we’re going to take a look at how brilliant WAC is tonally and thematically, and how its source material — not kept secret in the game — builds it up and makes it better and better upon replays.

Before I begin, it’s fair to warn you all that my thesis was done on Poe and adaptation theory (and its relevance towards detective novels but I won’t touch much on that part of it), so I might get a bit nerdy. Hopefully it’s still exciting and relatable enough to the game that it’ll make for interesting, rather than academic, reading.

WAC uses Poe’s stories — specifically “The Black Cat” (obviously) and “The Imp of the Perverse” (in my slightly expert opinion) — as thematic (what the game means) and tonal (how the game feels) touchstones, not to mention their inclusion for some of the events in the plot. A brief summary of both is probably important when looking at how they relate to WAC.

“The Imp of the Perverse” is an essay-like short story by Poe that basically states that inside of every person is the desire to do something wrong or incorrect simply because it is wrong or incorrect (not morally, but in terms of self-interest).

In the story, a man commits a clever murder and gets away with it, receiving the inheritance that he wanted from the dead man. The man cannot be caught — there is no evidence of any wrongdoing, let alone any that points to him — unless he confesses. The idea of confessing — not out of guilt, but just because it would be the wrong thing to do — plays on his mind until, driven half-mad with his preoccupation, he confesses and is imprisoned and executed. The titular “imp” is basically a devil on the shoulder who wants what would be worst for our own self-interest, simply because it is the worst.

MENTIONS OF ANIMAL CRUELTY FOR THE STORY OF THE BLACK CAT. PLEASE SKIP IF THIS BOTHERS YOU.

“The Black Cat” on the other hand is pretty much a proto-“Tell-Tale Heart” — an alcoholic man becomes emotionally distant from his cat (a rare sentence, I know) because he things the cat is judging him for being a drunk; one night in a drunken rage, he cuts out its eye and kills it. A fire catches his home, leaving an imprint of the hanged cat upon the only standing wall.

END OF DIRECT MENTIONS OF ANIMAL CRUELTY.

The man and his wife move, and he, after a period of guilt, makes friends with another cat — a cat nigh-identical to the first one, even missing an eye. When he (drunk, as per usual) and his wife are walking down the cellar stairs, however, he nearly trips over the cat and becomes enraged, trying to kill the cat, only to be stopped by his wife. He instead kills his wife, burying her behind the wall of the cellar and bricking up the hole.

When the police come by they find nothing, and the cat has disappeared, so the man feels safe. The police come back to investigate the cellar, the man taps on the wall to boast of how well the house is made — only to have horrific screeching start up behind the wall. The police break the wall down and find not only his wife’s body, but the black cat sitting on it as well. The man breaks down, overwhelmed by his own guilt, and the story ends.

END OF BLACK CAT STORY SYNOPSIS.

It’s pretty clear what influence “The Black Cat” had on WAC — not only does the villain name herself after the titular cat, but WAC is also a story of guilt, hidden crimes, and personal weaknesses that manifest in rage towards other innocents.

It’s actually really interesting that Corine takes the mantle of “The Black Cat” up when she begins targeting other valedictorian candidates; the black cat in the story is sort of a symbol of the man’s sin — a reaction to his sins and misdeeds, and sort of a catalyst of justice. This ties into how Corine sees herself — someone rejected and mistreated by those who are “filthy” themselves, and who must then show others the things they hate about themselves.

It’s Corine’s self-identification as a victim that starts all this, and it causes her to victimize others in potentially fatal ways. The black cat stands for guilt, for the sins of others, and yet it leads Corine further and further away from any justness herself.

The story of “The Imp of the Perverse” has a little bit of a more subtle tie-in to the game; in a way, each suspect does exactly what they know they shouldn’t.

Rachel and Kim are obvious — they really shouldn’t switch back and forth so regularly, nor should they be so sloppy at informing the other as to what they did and who they met that day. Leela, who should be studying if she wants to keep her spot in the race, instead passes the time by playing sports. Mel knows that the cloak-and-dagger meetings are to be an absolute secret, yet wears hair bows that she constantly loses to one. Izzy has her future meticulously planned out, yet refuses to back up an incredibly important paper (and also relies on being popular, yet pursues other girls’ boyfriends).

Even Corine falls under this; by targeting Nancy, she’s ensuring that suspicion will fall on her, as 2/3rds of the victims would then be her roommates. She’s also cutting her chances of being valedictorian by not working hard for it and instead relying on other, riskier methods. Every move she makes leads to it being more and more obvious that she’s behind them — and yet, she continues anyway, just like the man in “The Imp of the Perverse” — leading from a few small incidents to attempted murder.

Ignoring WAC’s ties to Poe renders it as a good, solid mystery without anything remarkable about it (other than the pendulum, of course). Exploring its ties to Poe not only helps set up exactly who the villain is, but also sets the tone for the mystery. This isn’t a mystery of Nancy foiling a villain through her smarts; instead, it’s a story about how guilt and a perverse desire for self-destruction leads a once-promising valedictorian candidate to more and more severe crimes, culminating in the exact opposite of what she was working for.

The Title:

It’s pretty awesome, full stop.

Warnings at Waverly Academy is honestly a great title for a Nancy Drew mystery; it gives us location, a sense of the world we’re in (scholastic), and a vague yet not too vague sense of what’s going on. The alliteration is good, the abbreviation amuses me — it’s just solid all the way around.

There’s not much else to say; sure, you could strengthen it by finding a punchier “w” word to begin with, but that’s just quibbling. It’s great, I love it, let’s move on to the Happenings at Waverly Academy (which, by the way, would have been a terrible name for the game).

The Mystery:

Called in as a professional undercover detective, Nancy’s just young enough to hide in plain sight at Waverly Academy, an upper-crust private school for those girls fortunate enough to be both rich and smart (aside from a few scholarship students, who are simply smart). Nancy’s called in due to a few near-death experiences by students, punctuated always by notes simply signed “The Black Cat”. It’s only a few days until break ends, so Nancy must work quickly to stop the sabotage, find the Black Cat, and solve the mystery before anyone dies.

Nancy, as always, finds quickly that not everything is so cut-and-dried. Each valedictorian candidate has the motive, means, and opportunity to get the other girls out of their way, and all have something to lose. Add in a secret society, the threat of demerits from an overly zealous RA, and the sneaking feeling that there might be a greater mystery behind all of these incidents, and you get a case mostly unlike any that Nancy’s had to crack before.

Oh, and Ned is on the phone, serving the player up with the single punch of testosterone in the game (aside from the hunky Mr. Harris, of course).

As a mystery, WAC is honestly super solid. Lots of characters, lots of clues, lots of red herrings, lots of mini-mysteries going on inside of the larger mystery…it’s everything you want from a Nancy Drew game, and it doesn’t really drop any of the balls it juggles. Sure, the pendulum might be a bit much for you if you’re not up on your Poe, but I think it’s a lot of fun, and for sure a very different type of ending puzzle — not drowning or running out of air or any other ending that Nancy Drew games likes to do.

Let’s go to the movers and shakers behind this mystery, then, shall we?

The Suspects:

Mel Corbalis is the fan-favorite character, so let’s start with her in this huge, estrogen-laden cast. Distinctly of the goth persuasion, Mel is a fantastically talented cello player and a Waverly Legacy, despite the fact that no one at school wants to be caught dead near her. She’s not an outcast the way that Corine is, however, because of her simple insistence on being exactly who she is, and not trying to hide or apologize for it.

Go Mel.

As a suspect, Mel is slightly more suspicious than most other girls, on account of Megan being her roommate, but otherwise sits on fairly equal standing with them all. She’s by far the most outwardly aggressive, but also comes across as simply no-nonsense (a welcome thing in any girl’s academy, believe me). She also has the least of Poe about her, despite her taste in fashion, and is in general a breath of fresh wind.

Next up is Leela Yadav, athlete extraordinaire. She sure can bounce that ball, at least. Izzy’s roommate and just as much a social climber (though in less in-your-face ways), Leela wants it all — popular, athletic, and valedictorian. It’s a lot for any girl to handle, much less one who can’t seem to keep it all together.

As a suspect, Leela’s not bad — she’s as even as (most) anyone else throughout the first half of the game, but falls off a bit when Izzy isn’t specifically targeted by the Black Cat (as most of her gripes are against Izzy, particularly). Leela’s more there to increase the number of students and throw suspicion around, but she does a darn fine job of it, and is well-rounded enough to be genuinely enjoyable.

We’d be remiss not to mention the queen bee (and my personal favorite suspect) at Waverly Academy, Izzy Romero. Snobbish, arrogant, and with apparently the smarts and people skills to back it up, Izzy is the first Waverly girl that Nancy (as Becca) meets, and boy does she set the player up for what Waverly is really like. Izzy’s smart enough to know when she should put in the effort and clever enough to delegate it when she can, and that alone endears her to me, even leaving aside her hilarious dialogue and general vibes.

As a suspect, Izzy is the sole girl who really isn’t set up to be much other than what she is — a girl with more than enough smarts to get power, and enough power to pretty much do what she wants to do. Sure, Nancy can catch Izzy doing stuff she shouldn’t do, but she’s never really a heavy-hitter when it comes to the Black Cat stuff. I love her for that, too. She’s a lot like Libby from the original Sabrina the Teenage Witch show; a bit nasty, but hilarious and effectively harmless — and I’ve always liked Libby-style characters.

And her stint in the Blackwood Society is aces too. Man, this girl does not quit.

Rachel Hubbard, is, of course, actually Rachel and Kim Hubbard, and they are the plot point that WAC is most known for. They actually have marginally separate personalities too, with one being far snappier than the other, and having strengths in different subjects.

Part of the reason I love the Hubbard twins so much is that their presence is so...Poeian. Poe was all about duplicity and mirrors, and the Hubbard twins show off both themes. It’s just a wonderful little bit of a nod to the source material (thematically speaking) of the game, and I adore it.

As suspects, the Hubbards aren’t bad at all; they’re lying, sneaking around, and blatantly “forget” what they’ve said to people, all of which adds up to be very untrustworthy. Were it not for Nancy (and Corine) sneaking around, they might have gotten through their Waverly experience without anyone figuring it out — and that’s something to respect, even if it does make them prime targets for blackmail. And speaking of blackmail…

Corine Meyers is both Nancy’s roommate and 100% our villain this time around. Obsessed with becoming valedictorian and knowing she probably won’t get it, Corine basically puts out self-assigned hits on each of her fellow candidates, attempting to get the title by violence rather than by being worthy. She’s even cunning enough to blackmail the Hubbard twins into doing some of her dirty work, throwing people off her scent. Sure, Corine is a rather pathetic (in the non-sympathetic sense) person who I have little respect for, but she does make a good villain in a Poe-ish story.

As a suspect, the game actually makes a pretty good go at not assigning the blame too quickly to anyone, so Corine does manage to hide out in the shadows. Sure, one of the girls who went home was her roommate, but the other was Mel’s, so suspicion isn’t centered right on her. I also love that she’s actually punished for what she does — no amount of sad pictures at the end of the game changes that. Corine actually has the cleverness that CUR tries (but doesn’t succeed) to give Jane, and I think it’s wonderful.

I’m not going to give Megan Vargas or Danielle Hayes their individual chunks, but they are present here as well, standing in as victims so we know that this teenaged effery very nearly had a body count. They really help to give a sense of…well, purposeful disconnection to the game, where the setting and the snow and the fact that these are high school girls doesn’t stop the crimes from being deadly.

The Favorite:

The first thing that I have to say is that I love how the tone and crimes of this game contrast so well with a lot of the games (especially, sorry, CUR). This takes place at a school, your suspects are all teenaged girls…and yet the game doesn’t shy away from how horrific things really are to get Nancy called in. Two girls have nearly died in quick succession from one another, and the girls are going on chasing acclaim. It’s a messed up situation, and the game doesn’t shy away from pointing that out.

These crimes are treated with severity, and the culprit, despite things that might have softened her ending under lesser writers, is punished with total removal. WAC in some ways is a spiritual successor to SCK, in that it takes place at a school, lives are endangered, Nancy is (mostly) undercover, and the culprit is not above killing Nancy messily solely for personal gain. The difference, of course, is that SCK is not done well, and WAC, on the whole, is.

As mentioned above, I have a soft spot for Poeian detective stories, and so I enjoy WAC probably more than I would had they modeled it after, say, Holmesian detective stories instead. The ideas of duplicity, mirrors, guilt, the Imp of the Perverse — the self-destructive tendency to do what we should not simply because we should not do it — these are all present and accounted for in WAC from different girls and facets of the plot (Corine and the secret society both represent duplicity, the Hubbard girls are mirrors, Waverly’s own guilt towards the students it failed, etc.).

My favorite puzzle has to be WAC’s resident cooking minigame, where Nancy prepares hot lettuce sandwiches and definitely underdone cookies to the delight of the gossiping horde. It’s like TRN’s cheeseburger minigame writ large, and every second of it is wonderful — the gossip, the food-making, the unexpected panic of a teacher order — everything. It also helps Nancy keep her head above water, should she be caught sneaking around after hours, and I think that’s great as well.

My favorite moment of the game is when Nancy comes out of the wall in Mel’s room and Mel isn’t having even one iota of her excuses to cut and run. It’s not often that a non-villain will press Nancy so intently when Nancy does something Inherently Untrustworthy, and I think it’s great that a 17 year old girl behaves exactly as one would, demanding an explanation and not letting Nancy wiggle her way out of it. Sheer perfection and the moment, I would guess, that Mel became a lot of people’s favorite WAC character.

I also love everything to do with the Blackwood Society. Nancy goes so…metal there and we really don’t get enough of Metal Nancy. It features one of the few moments of absolutely, unequivocally brilliant voice acting that Lani stumbles upon (the conversation about the bow), and it’s a wonder to behold.

The Un-Favorite:

While WAC certainly has great things about it, it’s not by any means a perfect game. It wouldn’t sit in my top 10, and possibly not even in my top 15, though it would depend on the day. The reasons for this?

A big one is my least favorite puzzle: taking the pictures. It’s a good idea — a gofer quest to help Nancy get to meet each student, talk to them, etc. and make sure no one gets lost in the shuffle (like with what usually happens with Guadalupe in ICE, for example) — and is also great for acquainting Nancy with the Hubbard(s). However, in practice, the interface makes it incredibly obnoxious to do, what with having to retake pictures because the pan or zoom is slightly off, and having to jump around from place to place. It’s a good idea, but could have been implemented far, far more smoothly than it actually was.

My least favorite moment in the game is actually the whole deal with Izzy’s paper being deleted. It’s a dick move — and I have no problem with that, honestly, but the fact that she has no backup is just like…girl, what on earth are you doing where you don’t back up your work.

Adding to that is the fact that even in the far-off yesteryear of 2009, Word autosaves (as did many, if not all, word processors) and a copy definitely would have still been retrievable on her computer, and that the teacher would almost definitely have a previous rough draft or at least outline…it’s a pretty shaky thing to have happen (the not-having, not the deleting), and it does break the game down a bit. I know it’s not that big a deal to most people, but it seriously hampers my ability to stay within the world of WAC and to take the mystery seriously.

The Fix:

So how would I fix Warnings at Waverly Academy?

There’s honestly not too much to do; while not a perfect game, WAC is perfectly solid, accomplishing what it needs to do properly and well, without too many little flaws to mar its reputation.

In other words, it’s a bit like an unsuccessful valedictorian candidate; well-rounded, but not a standout when compared to others that burn a little brighter.

I would, however, re-work the picture task; I’m not sure how you could make it less clunky, mechanically speaking, but it definitely needs it, along with a way to know if it’s a good picture or not before you go through all the effort of going to the library and plugging in the camera. I love the idea — just make the idea work better.

I’d also change the “deleted paper” storyline and go a little more destructive — give the computer an awful virus instead. Sure, her paper is backed up (in 2009, probably on a USB drive, or saved to her email or something), and she has her stuff, but that locks away all personalized notes, study sheets, etc. It’s something that would be pretty damning for a Valedictorian candidate, while also still being firmly in the realm of believability.

And on a smaller note, remove the ability to call Bess in this game. It always goes to voicemail and serves no purpose. Why even include it?

Where WAC really shines is its individualistic approach to each girl and in its permeation of Poeian themes; that’s what makes it special as a game, rather than any of its individual parts. Sometimes, you need to take a break from haunted mansions and carousels and museum thefts and marriage troubles and friends who are always in need of help – and you just need to play a game with gossip galore, hot lettuce bagels, and an actual death-bringing pendulum to round it out.

#nancy drew #clue crew #warnings at waverly academy #nancy drew games #WAC #nancy drew meta #long post #my meta #video games

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bujeetles · 5 years

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a very messy (m-rated) panda shrine avengers fic. to the two people reading this, hope you enjoy!

Peter Orso fucking hated his boss. He had always disliked Francis Monogram, his blatant favoritism towards the main branch and his upper management outlook were bad enough, but this? This was the last straw.

“Ah Agent P. Apologies for calling you on your day off.” he said through Peter’s watch, voice fuzzy and picture weak, because Peter had been hiking, and there wasn’t much signal on the mountain. He didn’t actually sound apologetic at all.

“As you’ve probably heard, some of the Avengers were recently in Danville, and OWCA had a manner of cooperation.”

“So?” he signed, raising his eyebrows even further than was probably necessary.

“Director Fury feels it necessary to set up protocol, in case a similar situation arises. We have elected to send you as the OWCA liaison.”

Peter bit the inside of his cheek to avoid a growl, because seriously? They were shacking this bullshit paper-trail nonsense on him?!

“Why not yours?” he asked, carefully steeling his face so it comes out neutral, instead of infuriated. After all, Agent Perry, Codename Platypus, had been the heroic savior of the hour, or whatever. (The pictures were pretty fun to look at, if he was honest. Very Silver Age.)

“Our Agent P is busy.” He said, like that was any excuse, they were all busy. “Seeing as your nemesis is currently...offline, you are our best option.”

Offline. What a lovely little euphemism, so peaceable, so voluntary sounding. How utterly bullshit. Mystery wasn’t ‘offline’, he was missing, he might even have been abducted, though Peter didn’t have enough evidence to say one way or the other. But Monogram could never say something like that, it would imply he gave a shit. In fact, he was probably actually sending Peter because he was tired of him using paid time to look for Mystery.

“When.”

“There will be an agent waiting as soon as you arrive back in civilization, Agent P. Do hurry.” he said, and hung up.

Fucking asshole.

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Peter finished his hike, but there wasn’t any of the peace he’d hoped for in it. He had thought, being away from the city, he might think of some way to find Mystery. It was strange, he’d always been a thwart and run kind of agent, never staying with one person for long. He’d seen every type of evil there was and some things that weren’t so morally defined. He was unattached, and he was good.

And then Mystery, who never told him anything, and yet he was drawn back and back again, in his traps, in his non-specific monologues. After the kidnapping turned coffee date, they’d gotten closer to traditional, what with overarching the tragic backstory out in the open, but Peter kind of liked the not-knowing, having to figure it out from what little he did know.

Now he wondered, if they were normal, functional, healthy nemeses, maybe he could find him. But they weren’t. They were weird and wrong and made for each other.

He shook those thoughts away as he made his way into the parking lot, he didn’t like Monogram at all, but most of OWCA was solid. He couldn’t afford to let them down just because of his situation.

At first, he didn’t see anyone. The lot was empty, mini-vans and sedans everywhere, the occasional non-family car. His motorcycle. One blink later and there was a woman, tight-laced, no nonsense, gray suit. Very obvious, as far as secret agents went, but well, SHIELD was secret only in name, so perhaps it was appropriate. He walked over to her.

“Identification.” she said, in lieu of hello. Not exactly incognito. Still, he fished out his OWCA ID and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“I thought Agent P worked in Danville.” Peter sighed. Monogram really was leaving it all to him, huh.

“You sign?” he asked, because he hadn’t brought his notebook with him, since it was his day off. He could use his phone if it came down to it, but he didn’t like to. The brightness hurt his eyes.

“A little. Mostly military. You might have to finger spell.” she replied. Not ideal, but at least she wasn’t forcing him to write, nor was she being rude about it.

“Not that Agent P. He’s Platypus. I’m Panda.”

“Weird naming system you guys have got going on.” she said, and he snorted, because she didn’t even know about the alliteration convention, or Agent CH out in Arizona, or was it New Mexico?

“I’ll have to verify your identity on the Helicarrier, but I was going to do that anyway. Let’s go.” she said, and before he could ask their means of transportation, he saw the light gather around him, his stomach start to lurch.

‘Shit. Teleportation.’ Was his first thought. His second, ‘I’m going to pass out.’ He was right.

---------------------------------------------------

Peter woke up on a cot, with a headache and no sound. He could still feel the vibrations of the Helicarrier under him, but his aides were gone. Not on the table, not in his pocket. He swore under his breath, he’d already been on his spares, and OWCA insurance always fought tooth and nail when he requested a new pair. He wondered if SHIELD would pay the bill, this time. It was clearly their fault.

Something hit him in the head, not enough to hurt, but to get his attention, and there was a guy in purple and black spandex in the door, grinning wide. Peter didn’t pay a lot of attention to heroes, but the bow slung over his shoulder was a bit of a dead giveaway. Hawkeye.

“New aides, if you want.” he signed, and it was confident, natural. Peter’s gaze flicked to his ears, the curling piece of plastic resting there. Huh.

“Didn’t know Hawkeye was deaf.” he said as he stood, tucking the box into his pocket. He didn’t really want to hear what he was feeling, not with the headache he was sporting.

“Try to keep it on the down low. Villains and all.” he said with a shrug, which was fair enough. “You’re from O-W-C-A, right?” Peter nodded.

“I’m supposed to feed you to the sharks, but as we are deaf bros I’m obligated to save you.” There was a dramatic tone to his signs, almost like he was performing. It made Peter smile. Perry was the only other person he could sign with easily, and he was all quick and efficient, like he was briefing someone. Of course, that could just be the circumstances. You thwart a taken nemesis one time and it’s all icy stares thereafter.

“Where to?” he asked, and Hawkeye grinned.

“We’re here to debrief, which means the gang is all here. How’d you like to meet the Avengers?”

He’s woken up to worse suggestions.

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The first place Hawkeye inelegantly dragged him is a lab. Probably. Everything’s so techno-futuristic around here that it’s hard to tell. The occupant helped. It’s Iron Man, or Tony Stark, seeing as he wasn’t in the suit, poking away at screens and looking sleep deprived.

He wasn’t perturbed by their sudden entrance, at least, Peter was pretty sure he wasn’t. The damn screens meant he couldn’t see his lips, though they were moving so quickly he would probably have had trouble anyway. Well, couldn’t all be winners like Hawkeye, he mused, and popped the new aides in.

“-not to mention non-ripable pants for the Big Guy.” Huh. His voice wasn’t quite so deep, outside the suit. “Who’s your friend?” Stark asked, flicking the screens away. Bit late, but whatever.

“He’s the OWCA liaison, Agent P.”

“OWCA?”

“You know, the whole Danville thing?”

“Christ, is anyone ever going to let us live that down? Those kids were good though, hope they take up my offer on that internship.”

“Benefits of not having superpowers to take.” Hawkeye teased. Stark rolled his eyes.

“I don’t have powers either, dipshit. My suit is more zap proof now, though. So, what’s Agent P - you got something else I can call you? Seems a bit Men in Black.”

“Panda.” he signed, and Clint translated.

“That’s what the P stands for?” he asked, incredulous.

“Your name is Iron Man.” he deadpanned.

“Fair enough. Whatcha’ doing here, Agent Panda?” he asked, a little sing-song, like he was echoing.

“Avoiding my responsibilities.”

Stark laughed at that, long and deep, until his breath couldn’t sustain it any longer.

“I like this guy. OWCA might not be so bad.” he declared, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Peter should have stayed quiet. OWCA did not want to get on the bad side of literal superheroes, and overall it did a lot of good. But it felt wrong, not to forewarn him.

“My boss is a jackass.” He wore a scowl as he said it, his teeth grinding together in frustration. His rage had faded a little, being in Hawkeye’s company, but it was back now, and it burned.

“Oof. We’ve all been there. What’s his particular flavor of jackassery? Let me guess: bad insurance, overworked and underpaid.” Stark commiserated.

“My money’s on non-ADA compliance and subtle but consistent bigotry.” Hawkeye chipped in.

Neither of these accusations were wrong, and it’s not like Peter enjoyed them, but they weren’t the reasons he really hated Monogram enough to tell superheroes about it. He wondered if he should tell them the truth of the matter. Maybe they could actually help.

And honestly? Peter was desperate.

“My...” He paused. He couldn’t call Mystery his nemesis, it was a different term on their level. Part of the reason Peter didn’t pay attention to heroes was the evil that followed them, he didn’t like thinking about the cursed red Nazi still walking around. He was happiest when things were on OWCA’s scale. Preventable, personal, often petty. It was evil still, and the more extreme scientists might even be thrown in jail if schemes turned deadly, but for the most part? OWCA prevented the smart and broken from destroying the world by giving them something to do. With that in mind, the term he did use wasn’t technically a lie.

“My partner disappeared last week. He doesn’t want me looking for him.”

Stark and Hawkeye shared a look, one that conveyed information he wasn’t able to decipher, a wordless (and signless) conversation which ended on agreement.

“Let’s call the Cap.”

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Everything after that was a bit of a blur, if Peter was honest. Captain America asked for everything he knew about Mystery’s last whereabouts, he told him. It wasn’t as hard as he thought it might be, not mentioning the villainy. Mystery was so closed off even his intentions weren’t obvious to see.

He’s about 70% sure they think Mystery is his lover, which is funny and fucked up and only two degrees away from the truth. There was something kinetic in animosity, similar to sex, and he’s not going to pretend he hasn’t thought about combining the two with Mystery. So many secrets he could unravel under his tongue, his fingers, and he could just kiss him and kiss him and never stop.

Reality wasn’t that kind. Reality was in the forms he finally picked up, another gut-wrenching teleportation, an empty apartment and a vague promise of news that might never come. Reality was insomnia, coffee he had to pour down the drain because one of the few things he did know is how much Mystery loves it, and he’s not here. Reality was tears that didn’t count because his eyes were still closed.

Reality could go fuck itself.

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Four months went by, slow as an ocean current, before Hawkeye - civilian name Clint Barton - texted Peter an update that didn’t include some sort of apology. A photo of a rumpled looking man in a mask with the eyes of a cursed spirit, and a caption that killed in understatement. “he’s kind of grumpy, isn’t he?”

“Yes, yes he is.” he texts back, immediate.

“your bf is kinda dumb, you know”

“like brilliant and whatever but also”

“the only reason he disappeared is b/c of some very illegal wormhole manipulation”

“good luck with the charges on that”

“I’ll manage. When can I come and get him?”

“we were just going to drop him off tbh; you don’t have a good history with teleports”

“also wtf i can’t believe you had us calling you panda for months when your name is actually peter”

“aww he’s asking if you saw anyone else while he was gone”

“I mean he said thwart which is a bit of a weird word choice but seattle so who knows”

“No. I’ve been on desk duty this whole time. I got offers, but I refused.”

“double aww I told him what you said and now he’s all flustered”

“anyway meet us in this field in like an hour”

Peter put on his fedora and googles, sent an email about stopping his nemesis, his nemesis, who was back! He followed the coordinates to a park barely inside Seattle city limits, a little squalid, cameras broken or unattended. All the better for SHIELD’s fake secrecy agenda, when four people beam out of the sky. Thor and Hawkeye were holding Mystery steady, while Dr. Banner - Hulk or not the man had doctorates, while Peter had barely survived grad school - looked on with vague concern.

“Don’t you have somewhere better to be, Peter the Panda.” Mystery growled as he righted himself, and oh how he had missed it, the insults, the banter.

“Not at the moment.”

“Peachy. You know, in another dimension, you’re an actual Panda. And you still left me for Doofenshmirtz. Not exactly encouraging.” he accused, moving towards him, one, two steps.

“He’s not a bad night’s call. But you’re my nemesis.”

Mystery’s eyes went wide, and Peter regretted every second he’d spent stepping out, in downplaying how important Mystery was to him, because it was so obvious in his retrospect.

“You mean that?” he asked, a tremor muffled under fabric. When Peter nodded, the distance between them disappeared, the knife glinted against his throat.

“Very well, Peter the Panda. I will take great joy on obliterating you and bringing havoc upon the entire Pacific Northwest,” He pulled away and smirked. “Tomorrow afternoon. Don’t be late.” With that, he strode off into the depths of the greater Seattle area.

“Did we just rescue a super villain?” Hawkeye asked, blinking furiously.

“OWCA business. Don’t worry, he’s mine.”

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swipestream · 6 years

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Jack Ryan is Just Rotten but Peppermint is Practically Perfect

Okay, that headline’s not QUITE fair, but I just couldn’t pass up the soulfully seductive sounds of a totally terrific triple alliteration. So sue me. Here’s something a little more fair (but which doesn’t make for as snappy a headline):

Jack Ryan—the new Amazon Prime video series about Tom Clancy’s CIA analyst character—isn’t totally rotten, but is instead an alright work by talented people that could have been much much better if they hadn’t made, or been forced to make, several compromises with political correctness. By way of contrast, Peppermint—Jennifer Garner’s “Punisher, but with Jennifer Garner” movie—doesn’t noticeably pull its punches, even faced with the same unpalatable problem: the stunning rudeness of reality.

Existence, you see, doesn’t comport itself according to politically correct pieties. Unlike what certain elements want you to believe, there really are murderous Muslim terrorists and murderous Mexican drug cartels. They exist, but putting them into your fiction is a potential career-ender in modern Hollywood, which is why it’s so surprising that both works chose to do so.

The entire season of Jack Ryan (like Netflix, 8 episodes revolving around the same story, only unlike Netflix, Amazon makes it work) is one long battle against actual Muslim terrorists, people who murder 300 innocents with sarin gas at a Paris funeral for a priest and who plot even bigger body counts after that. Their explicit motivations are revenge on the West and establishing a caliphate, and the show doesn’t flinch from depicting their rage and bloodthirstiness up to and including keeping and selling captured Westerners as slaves and using children as suicide bombers against American troops and defecting Iraqi civilians (the subsequent explosion and helicopter crash replacing the original origin of Jack Ryan, CIA analyst). These are BAD GUYS, alright? And that’s a minor miracle when even Ben Affleck’s The Sum of All Fears rewrote Clancy’s book so Ryan fought not Muslim terrorists but German Neo-Nazis… in 2002.

Peppermint is a smaller story about a mom who loses her daughter and husband in a horrific drive-by. The murderers are a gang whose face tattoos and Hispanic ethnic identity are clearly meant to evoke MS-13, and who are linked to an unspecified but clearly Mexican drug cartel. The gang arranges the murders, buys off or intimidates police, district attorneys, and judges, and deprives the mother of well-deserved justice. The criminals even have a smug Peter Strzok moment, laughing at the bereaving mother in the courtroom just after she’s given testimony, and just after the crooked judge has dismissed the case against them. Nor are these the only murders we witness them arranging. Again, these are BAD GUYS.

(I hope it’s not too big of a SPOILER to reveal that both groups of BAD GUYS get their comeuppance by the end.)

So, yeah, major props to the writers of both for daring to go where no modern Hollywood dudes are willing to go. It’s surprising and ballsy and eminently complimentable. That said…

Jack Ryan spends a lot of time trying to walk it back, undercutting their seeming-boldness. The main bad guy’s family is killed in an air strike (in the very first scene in the entire series) on a civilian village in the Bekaa Valley, Lebanon, in 1983. The problem is that America (whom many reviewers assumed was the culprit) never attacked anywhere in the Bekaa in 1983, while both the French and the Israelis only attacked military targets—no civilian villages were bombed, only Iranian Revolutionary Guard locations (Lebanon claims 1 civilian death from these attacks, not the dozens or hundreds depicted in the show).

This attack never happened, and yet the show chooses it as the beginning of the main Bad Guy’s turn from an innocent child into a violent terrorist mastermind. This turn is later cemented when he is arrested by racist French policemen who throw him into prison because of racism, where he is radicalized by a Muslim cleric. One day he’s an innocent would-be banker with a bold plan to modernize and revolutionize France’s banking system, rejected by the French because they’re racists, and a year later he’s a jihadi.

Because of the murder of innocent civilians by the West, and racist rejection of an innocent, peaceful businessman by the French, “the next Bin Laden” is born—we created our own worst foe. “He is the monster we created, had we only treated him better he’d have never done what he did” is a pretty odious (but altogether too common) message, and it cheapens and weakens what could have been a great story.

The show also futzes with Adm Greer’s (Ryan’s boss and mentor, played by James Earl Jones in 1990’s The Hunt for Red October) past and personality to score PC points, turning him into a Muslim who converted so he could marry his Muslim (now ex-) wife. He’s explicitly shown as having abandoned the religion after the divorce, but the show still gives him a chance to virtue signal when a racist French secret agent complains about the Muslims in France and later he decides to go back to church (er… back to the mosque?) because of all this.

Okay, fine, the show is more anti-French than anti-American, and I usually have no problems tossing a few barbs France’s way, but this is a bit too much. You don’t strengthen a story or a villain by blaming others for his villainy. People make their own choices, and bear responsibility for them. Blaming the victims for the crime is ridiculous, and this message (along with several other PC moments too lengthy to relate here, like the drone pilot who goes on pilgrimage from his air base just outside Las Vegas to the Middle Eastern village where the family of his last—mistakenly identified—target live to give them $60,000 to ease their pain) fatally compromise what could have been an excellent series. They had the talent, but in catering to the PC Gestapo, they ruined their work.

Peppermint does none of that. (Mostly. Homeless people are presented as completely harmless innocents, but that’s not a plot point and is easily overlooked.) There are corrupt and brutally ruthless gangsters, they decide to make an example of her husband, so they do a drive-by and shoot him down in the street, even as he’s trying to shelter his little girl with his own body, and both die while the mom looks on. Riley North, the wife and mother of the slain, tries to get justice for her family through the legal process, but the gang’s money has bought them influence in the courts and even among the police themselves. She drops out of sight for five years, and on the anniversary of her family’s death, she shows up, armed with an arsenal of military weapons and det cord, and proceeds to dispense her own justice. The Bad Guys try to strike back, they fail, and she proceeds to eliminate them one by one in a series of very cool set pieces.

Peppermint is a solid revenge flick, in the vein of Death Wish (whichever version you care to choose) and The Punisher. You could even non-ironically call the movie the best Punisher flick ever made, because most of them have been pretty awful and this movie absolutely is not. It’s not too long, moves along at a brisk pace, and is solidly entertaining. There isn’t a lot more to say other than “The villains are mostly Hispanic, but the movie never shies away from this, nor does it demonize Hispanic people.” It’s a good movie. Go see it.

Both shows have come under fire in the media for depicting actual, real villains who actually, really exist in the actual, real world. Their decision to move ahead despite this is bold, and even if Jack Ryan flubbed the execution, both productions deserve nothing but praise for it.

Jasyn Jones, better known as Daddy Warpig, is a host on the Geek Gab podcast, a regular on the Superversive SF livestreams, and blogs at Daddy Warpig’s House of Geekery. Check him out on Twitter.

Jack Ryan is Just Rotten but Peppermint is Practically Perfect published first on https://medium.com/@ReloadedPCGames

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