That happened a while ago. But just because my birthday was a few weeks ago, it doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t take a moment to stop and reflect.
I’ve made 32 orbits around the Sun now. What am I appreciating now that I didn’t earlier?
Time takes everybody out, it’s undefeated.
Looking back when I was a lot younger, I’ve come to realise how silly I was for chasing thrills.
I used to wish my entire life was an action movie. I purposedly did things to make that a reality. Breaking and entering abandoned factories and homes, trying to enlist in the military … I was always chasing that next high, whether it’s trying out skateboarding, mountain-biking or even just dramatising my blog to make my personal struggles seem grander.
The folly of youth. A deep underappreciation for time.
Of course, a lot of circumstances back then made me think that I was doing OK for myself. I had a job, but it wasn’t challenging me and draining my energy. I thought I didn’t need much money or had to save a lot, because my focus was all on chasing the next action thrill. I spent my paychecks trying to be different … more interesting than the person next to me.
Now, having settled down in a proper job, where I work 9-5pm, where time feels shorter because of all the things I need to do, I appreciate the small moments a lot more.
I like having a night in. I like learning new things instead of chasing new highs. I don’t feel that urge to go out just because I think life is passing me by.
My life is controlled by me. I own what I do, what I need to prioritise and how I manage my time. Just because an event passed me by, doesn’t mean I’m missing out.
I appreciate the moment when everything goes quiet. I can laser focus in on one small task and get it done.
It’s why I’m obsessed with baseball now. It’s a sport that never used to excite me, but over the year, I’ve become a baseball addict. I can’t stop obsessing over the sport. I’m itching to play.
Almost every single week, you’ll see footage of me online, smashing balls off a tee.
Of course, I’m inspired by Shohei Ohtani. He’s arguably the greatest player in Major League Baseball history. The two-way player who is easily in the top 4 for both pitching and hitting. Only a few weeks ago, I witnessed his absolutely ridiculous performance, where he struck out 10 batters and then proceeded to smash 3 home runs in one game.
This is supposed to be a team sport. Ohtani single-handedly destroyed a MLB team on his own.
There was no way I wasn’t going to be inspired by a genuine unicorn. I missed seeing Jordan’s dominance. I never got to truly appreciate Tiger’s artistry. I ignored Brady’s achievements. I hated Hamilton’s effortless winning streaks.
But Ohtani was the guy who took me by the shoulders and told me to watch a sport I had no interest in.
Now, I’m all in.
I’m even considering joining my local baseball team …. an odd choice, especially when you look back at my sporting interests which have all been solo sports. Tennis, skateboarding, fencing, go-karting … not once have I been interested in joining a team sport.
Yet, here I am, strongly thinking about trying out properly for my local team.
So much has changed about me, when I think about it.
Nowadays, I’m a lot more conscious about how I spend my time, my money and my energy. It’s no doubt, a side-effect of getting older. I can’t do the typical 3am finishes and get up, raring to go at 8am anymore. Now, I can sense I’m eager for good sleep, focused on getting healthier and spending more time with my partner.
There’s also the mental maturity that is starting to creep in. I feel a bit more confident in knowing who I am and taking on feedback. But it’s a razor’s edge when it comes to sensitivity. When I was younger, I was so much more brash, cocky and arrogant. I could bulldoze my way through with superior confidence.
But now, I’m very aware of the other side effect of getting old. You start to get more sensitive, more aware that you’re mortal and that means you start to become more stubborn and resistant to change. You don’t realise it of course, until someone tells you that you’re starting to get offended by everything.
I do constant checks now. I don’t believe in not progressing, not changing and giving up. I’m still hyper-alert to how my actions and words can affect people and myself. I’m still scanning myself and trying to be as self-aware of my flaws, my strengths and my actions.
Because the last thing I want to be, is some curmudgeon who gripes about how much the world is changing, when in reality, he didn’t put in the work to keep up with the changes.
It’s why I’m glad I am able to keep a firm grasp on who I am, what I believe in and the values I promote while acknowledging that yes, it may be a bit old-fashioned, but I’m still open to new ideas, new ideals and new ways of respecting others.
I hope that I can keep this up. This ability to be a bit old-school, but adaptable. Because I think some things never die. Some values remain true no matter the age, the generation or the school of thinking. Things like a good polo shirt with chinos, the crack of a baseball bat slapping leather out to 120metres,
And I’ll hold onto those, but I won’t ever judge others for challenging them.
I think at my age, I’m doing OK. I could be healthier, slimmer, happier and more social, but I’m content, which is a very nice feeling to own.
I like knowing that I have things to work on.
And I hope that this continues … because being productive, being pleased about the small improvements in my life … makes me content.
New Zealand is now officially the second country I’ve travelled to overseas and in many ways, it is so similar to home, but also highly different.
I spent 10 days in a country that is famed for its incredible scenery and by the tenth day there was no doubt in my mind that New Zealand is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. No matter what angle, road, or view you see the country, it will take your breath away.
The sheer amount of green is astonishing. It rolls for hills and mountains as far as the eye can see, and I personally think that road tripping in NZ is an underrated experience. There is no better way to experience the sheer greenery and lush vegetation NZ is famous for, than epic road trips across the islands.
My partner and I chose to visit the North Island, considering she had already experienced the South Island and in a lot of ways, the more tourist-trap nature of Queenstown and Christchurch made me want to avoid it anyway.
Not that the North Island was any less stunning or tourist friendly. Because it still blew my breath away wherever I drove, whether it was through the Tongariro National Park, the suburbs of Auckland or through smaller towns like Hamilton.
The North Island was stacked with things to do, drive around and experiences. So without further ado, I shall dive into each of my most memorable moments on my holiday with my partner as well as give general opinions on architecture, food and the overall vibes we experienced.
NZ Atmosphere
The New Zealand atmosphere is a lot like my home country of Australia with one exception …. it’s even more relaxed. Roads crawl around at 50km/h, a far cry from the 60km/h I am used to at home. People walk slower when crossing the streets. Hell, even the iconic accent makes people seem more relaxed and chill.
In many ways, NZ really proves itself as the idyllic place to retire. The scenery, air, lifestyle and overall pace suits people who want to slow down and actually enjoy smelling the roses. At the ripe age of 30, I’m nowhere near that level of sedentary action. If anything, I found myself frequently breaking the road rules, consistently travelling at 60km/h in a 50 zone and deliberating and regularly, pushing my car to 150km/h in a 110km/h country road. It got to the point where I even maxed out my car at 170km/h but had to slow down for a truck in front of me.
Driving though, was the name of the game for the trip. There were very little public transport options, but in a place where number plates have yet to switch up their 3 letters/3 numbers combinations (it is still ABC 123 vs the Australian A0B 1C3), the road population was so small and relaxed that getting around was no issue at all.
Even the way how the New Zealanders treat each other is beautifully courteous and friendly. The amount of times where incoming cars flashed their high-beams at me to warn me of police cars up ahead was too numerous to count. It’s clear, especially in the regional roads, everyone speeds, but do their best to look after one another and not get busted by the highway patrol.
A big moment that stood out to me was when I was driving behind one of NZ’s iconic “traffic cones” trucks and the driver, knowing I was the faster car, checked the road in front of him, then waved me on, to overtake. It was a sweet gesture that I thumbed up, and he returned the motion. These little interactions with the local Maori people proved to me just how friendly, warm, and relaxed they are, no matter the occasion.
The only thing that really soured the road trip element was just the sheer amount of road works that were happening everywhere. I suppose it only makes sense, considering the fact that NZ lies on a major fault line in the earth’s crust, and hence roads need constant maintenance to fight against the detrimental effects of earthquakes, but it was still annoying nevertheless having to slow down so much.
Overall though, NZ is a stunning, beautiful location that gives other famous mountainous regions like the Swiss Alps and Japan a run for its money. It is so gorgeous that it looks fake. There were so many moments where I had to stop the car and just take a photo and the number of selfies my partner and I took at so many scenic landscapes are obscene. From our stop in Huka Falls which is a breathtaking view of fast moving water, to the top of Skyline Rotorua, New Zealand had some many gorgeous water features that it consistently took my breath away.
I cannot recommend visiting this country enough. It’s like Australia but greener, more relaxed and just as friendly. The people were just great, and I still laugh at my partner’s reaction to hearing the iconic Kiwi accent over an automated “Countdown” register (Woolworths to us Aussies).
NZ Architecture
If there is one thing I love doing when visiting another country, is checking out unique architecture. I don’t know when I became fixated on unique buildings and their styles, but it’s been a slow, but growing passion of mine to see and admire them whenever I can.
Unlike a lot of people, I tend to revolt against modern designs. I’m progressive in a lot of my views when it comes to politics, but regressive when it comes to art. I prefer looking at things that evoke some type of classicism.
And I was in for a treat in New Zealand.
Architecturally, New Zealand has a lot of old world charm. Unlike Melbourne, which is constantly updating itself with new designs that evoke the year we live in, New Zealand is decidedly against a lot of modern aesthetics. So many buildings in NZ are examples of bygone eras. From art deco, to more brutalist architecture, NZ’s cities have a very unique, and simple style to them that I really like, especially since I come from a city where everything is always so polished, new and sometimes very bizarre.
Of the two cities, it was Auckland that really stuck out to me as the most interesting. Wellington in a lot of ways, reminds me of Australia’s tiny island capital, Hobart. They are both coastal cities, facing out the open water, built into the side of mountains and possess similar, old, battered buildings that are more functional than aesthetically pleasing. The buildings are very plain, and short, without much height or differentiating features.
In short, Wellington is a small port city with no real distinctive flair.
Auckland on the other hand, had a lot more diverse architectural styles within its borders. Beyond the obvious Sky Tower, there was also the incredible Domain Wintergarden which looked amazing as it resembled the neoclassical style that was so popular during the World’s Columbian Exposition (Chicago’s World Fair), an architectural movement that I have been obsessed with since I saw images of the fair held in 1893.
With its Greco-Roman inspired marble statues, large central fountain and courtyard combination and beautifully rounded domed roofs and crystal clear glass structure, the Domain Wintergarden was a brief portal for me. It transported me into a time when the world was a bit more exciting, because of all the things we didn’t know. A time where you had to visit these fairs to see what the outside world held. The flowers that were on display in the Wintergarden was amazing, as was the incredible Fernery nearby that had this brilliant support roof that allowed ferns and vines to grow all over it. It was so lush, green and dense that it was like stepping into a forest, except in the middle of a bustling urban environment.
Other notable buildings included the very odd, very traditional Chinese pagoda style building known as Choice Plaza. Red, green and so very Chinese, it immediately surprised me, because such buildings were rare to see, but it made all the more sense, for being in the very Asian oriented street of Auckland.
In fact a lot of Auckland’s architecture had this old school vibe to it. Certain buildings were fully Gothic in their facade, others like the Guardian were “Stripped Classical” with their faded dark colours, antique clocks overhanging the streets and so many others looked like they were built in the 90s and never progressed beyond their yellowing old tiles, dated columns and 80s rooftops.
The prime example of course being the highly bizarre and supremely ugly Sky World Indoor Entertainment, with its strange mix of old and new clashing together in an ad-hoc fashion. The front of Sky World with its brown marble and glass curved exterior that has a strange crown up top is meshed into a 90s style glass building that is devoid of any real personality. Its bizarre, its weird, its ugly and when I walked past it, in late 2023, it was for sale and in dire need of refurbishment. Not a good look for what is supposed to the main public square of Auckland.
In a lot of ways, it reminds me of my own work place at Federation Square. I don’t know what designers were thinking back then, but honestly, I really wished they scaled back the outlandish ideas to make public square eyesores.
Overall, the architecture in the North Island is very similar to Australia. A mix of ultra modern buildings that grow over the mess of old decaying 90s malls and wide pedestrian streets that are beautifully lined with tall green trees.
It felt like home and overall I would argue that Auckland is much more reminiscent of Sydney than Melbourne. Sydney has a lot of similar styles that can be seen in Auckland and I think they are much closer to sister cities. Melbourne, for all her beauty, is a newer city than loves to destroy old remnants than sully her overall modern theme.
I’m happy to see that Auckland does nothing of the sort and remains as eclectic as it first started.
NZ Food
Food in NZ is more Americanised than I realised. But I say that with a biased lens as a guy who has grown up in Melbourne food culture. The servings are a bit bigger, the food doesn’t quite hit my palette as hard as it does at home, and overall, it wasn’t anything to really write home about.
I never really got to try what authentic kiwi food really is, as we mostly ate road-trip food and found random Asian spots. What I did notice though was the sheer number of fast food options that NZ has. Taco Bell, KFC, McDonalds, Burger King, Wendys … the chains were everywhere. It was no small wonder that local restaurants weren’t pushed to exceed, because these options dominated so much of the local market.
All in all, I didn’t find many restaurants that were worthy to write home about in NZ, with the exception of 2 places. An Italian place in Wellington called Scopa, and a Vietnamese place in Rotorua called Saigon ’60s. The Vietnamese place was a surprising stop, because the food was actually OK.
I’ve made it a morbid habit to visit at least one Vietnamese restaurant whenever I travel somewhere foreign, and in this case, it wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever had. It definitely toned down the Vietnamese flavours like lemongrass and fish sauce though, but I suspect it’s a way of mollifying the cuisine to a very Western area of NZ.
Scopa was another spontaneous decision. My partner and I had just finished eating at an Argentinian steak place and weren’t too impressed with the quality of the food or the decor. We needed something to cheer us up, after spending a decent amount of money. On a whim, I saw Scopa, and intrigued by the clear Italo-disco 70s aesthetic of the restaurant, I dragged my partner in for our favourite dessert, tiramisu.
Now, having tasted Melbourne’s greatest tiramisu at Grossi, I can honestly say that Scopa’s tiramisu is the closest I’ve ever had that comes to the greatness of Grossi and that is one of the greatest compliments I can give.
Finally, I have to discuss Wendy’s. The iconic redhead burger chain was everywhere in NZ and I’ve always been so curious about American fast food in general. To my astonishment, it was actually pretty good. The burgers tasted fresh, the chips were the perfect blend of thick cut and salty and the only complaint I had was that the “medium” size for the drinks were absolutely enormous. They could have definitely downsized the drink, but some things are too American to be tamed. My partner and I ended up visiting Wendy’s more than we originally thought, mostly because of the road trip nature of our holiday.
Hamilton Gardens
Hamilton Gardens was one of the biggest highlights of the trip for me. For those who are unaware, my father is big on gardening. Whilst that passion has not really caught on with me (I much prefer my books and firearms), there is an undeniable element inside of me that appreciates excellent horticulture and landscaping work because of how hard my father worked on the family home’s front and back yard.
And let me just say that Hamilton Gardens has one of the most incredible and original ideas for their vision of what a landscaping tourist attraction should be.
Instead of just one singular theme, like the Royal Botanical Gardens here in Melbourne, Hamilton chose to do multiple themes, giving visitors glimpses into the past and around the world.
Tudor. Ancient Egyptian. Surrealist. Modernist. Italian Renaissance. Indian Char Bagh. Chinese Scholar. Japanese Zen. English Flowers. Herb Garden … the list goes on. There is so much to explore, admire and soak in. In a lot of ways, it’s an incredibly immersive portal into the past and I found myself stunned by the sheer effort the staff put in.
For example, with the Ancient Egyptian Garden, there are actual walls with hieroglyphics that are faded on the outside, but the moment you step in, you are awash with colour. For the Tudor Garden, they actually had the small parapet of a medieval structure in the corner and the iconic striped ribbon poles adorned across the Garden. For the Italian Renaissance section, I laughed out loud when I saw the legendary female wolf statue that nursed Romulus and Remus, the Capitoline Wolf.
As a massive history nerd, I was truly in love with the Gardens. It was a time machine that really allowed me to catch an glimpse into the past that I always wanted to explore.
If you had to guess which Garden was my favourite? It’s a close tie between the Italian Renaissance and the Ancient Egyptian. I love both time periods and it made me sad that such ancient beauty isn’t as commonplace anymore.
The Lord of the Rings
Along with Star Wars, Star Trek and countless other random nerdy pop culture franchises, LOTR was one of the biggest formative cinematic experiences of my childhood. Described by my father as one of the greatest trilogies he has ever seen, LOTR exposed me to the world of fantasy and how incredibly fascinating it was to read about wizards, hobbits, elves and Uruk-hai.
Whilst I am certainly no LOTR expert, I knew what I saw on screen looked cool. Middle Earth is equally brutal as it is beautiful and New Zealand perfectly encapsulates that. Knowing that I was going to NZ meant that I had to at least indulge a little bit, in my nerdy passion for LOTR.
This meant a trip to Hobbiton and the Weta workshop in Wellington.
Weta was an amazing time, seeing all the cool props that have populated so many of my favourite movies. But what made it incredible, was the amount of knowledge that was dropped during the tour. There were so many fascinating, cool, realistic and scary props on display that showcased the artistry, talent and skill that so many of these prop-makers possess behind their hands.
It still boggles my mind how much work goes into every single little detail seen on screen. The chain mail seen in LOTR had be built on a mass scale, whilst balancing looking right, yet being light enough to wear for hours on end. The bristles on a giant wasp came from horse hair that had to be treated just right.
Overall, walking into the workshop was like wandering into a cave of the most eclectic uncle you’ve have in your family. Swords, sci-fi guns, armour, books … random animatronics … I can only imagine just how much cool technology and gear the Weta workshop make on a daily basis and I left the workshop, more appreciative of the artisans behind the scenes of these movies.
What really stole the show though, was my visit to Hobbiton. It so happened that the day we went to visit the set, was actually the first ever day they opened up the expansion to the tour. An expansion that allowed you to actually go inside a Hobbit home and truly immerse yourself.
Walking in and seeing every single detail that populated the bedroom, the kitchen, the pantry, the living room, the hallway, the reading room … it was simply amazing. I couldn’t imagine going on the movie tour without this segment. It elevated the entire experience and I really loved looking at how much work was put into making the Hobbit home feel lived in.
It was truly amazing to see how much work Peter Jackson put into building the set in the side of the Alexander Farm’s rolling green hills. I couldn’t believe how they made the little tavern, the small lake and the sheer planning and detail that went into building this tiny fantasy town. In many ways, it represents the heart of the entire franchise and I was glad I got to visit it with my partner.
The NZ Cultural Experiences
This is just a quick recap on some key cultural experiences that my partner and I visited and experienced.
The Waitomo Glow Worm Caves
The famous Glow Worm Caves of Waitomo was definitely a fun experience. Thankfully, I visited these caves before I became hooked on the Scary Interesting channel which has fundamentally warned me away from visiting a cave or swimming deep ever again.
The actual trip to the Glow Worm was already hectic. Rain poured the entire way there, soaking our rental car and making me thankful that I bought my Arcteryx Gamma jacket and On Running shoes. It didn’t help that we were running late according to the GPS, but my hours of driving F1 cars through thick rain on simulators came in handy and I was able to keep an average of 130km/h on the windy NZ roads the entire way there.
When we got there, I was struck by the way the tourist centre incorporated itself into the natural landscape. The building was echoing Maori architecture and it was grand how tall the roof was, shielding tourists like me from the rain. The mist that surrounded the entire area was cold, yet adding a touch of magic to the atmosphere. It was like walking into an older part of the world.
The cave itself was a humble entrance, with well designed walkways, handrails and plenty of stalactites and stalagmites to enthral everyone who walked in. But it was the pitch black descent onto a boat, that floated on an underground river that really got everyone. The moment the boat cast away from the dock and I could see our guide’s hand feeling her way through the river with rope, I felt a certain trepidation about the entire thing.
But that disappeared the moment the glow worms came into view.
It was like looking up at the sky filled with thousands of stars. The electric blue glows of the worms was beautiful, haunting and oddly peaceful. I remember squeezing my partner’s hand and feeling a serene glow overcome me as I stared the endless clusters of lights emanating from the roof. The only downside to this tour, was the time spent looking at the worms was far too short and before I knew it, we were struck by harsh daylight and the magic was over.
For a second, I wondered whether it would be amazing to be the first cave explorers to see these wonders, but after seeing how many times things go wrong in caves on the Sean’s Youtube channel, I’m going to hard pass on those opportunities. Caving isn’t for me.
Te Puia Geyser
The Te Puia tour we took in Rotorua was a spur of the moment decision. I remember driving up to the Te Puia Centre and it was a hot day. So hot that I was sweating in my polo, and I was cradling a massive medium sized cup of Lemon and Paeroa (my new favourite soft drink) from Wendys. I looked like every fat Western tourist ever and the photo my partner took of me outside the centre was hilarious.
The tour we went on was actually a lot more of a cultural education than I anticipated. It wasn’t just to see the famous geyser. It actually took us to a small kiwi enclosure where we could see them for the first time, and they were just as adorable as I imagined them to be. It’s actually quite sad to know that they were close to extinction due to dogs and cats wiping out so much of the native population.
After the Kiwi enclosure, came the geyser itself and the hot mud pools which were both amazing to look out, but also highly uncomfortable as it was already hot and getting closer to these natural marvels meant I was burning up even more. Whilst I’ve never seen a geyser in reality, I wasn’t that impressed by the phenomenon. I was however curious at how much the surrounding rocks and water changed in look having put up with these spray for hundreds of years. The yellow-baked white spray across the water and rocks made everything look so alien, that I was briefly reminded of all the science books I read about other planet surfaces.
Seeing how everything was bubbling, uncomfortably hot and smelled awful, just told me deep down how much other planets are inhospitable to humans.
The rest of the tour lacked that amusing anecdote but it was actually quite fascinating to see the New Zealand Maori Arts and Crafts in action, with students crafting incredible Maori art and textiles. Whilst many of the items were beyond my budget, I did wish I had something to bring home from that exhibit and store.
Shopping Centre
One of the silliest tests in my mind, when comparing things to back home, is going into a country’s biggest, and most impressive shopping centre and comparing it to Chadstone back home. For those in the dark about Chaddy, it is one of the biggest and most impressive in Australia. Luxury brands, entertainment, food … there is an unwritten rule in Melbourne about Chaddy. If you are a new brand, you need to open one store in the CBD and one in Chadstone to truly make it here.
The shopping centre my partner and I wandered around for a few hours in Auckland was Newmarket. Whilst it was impressive, in my mind, it reminded me too much of Doncaster. Whilst big, and boasting a few luxury brands, Newmarket was decidedly smaller and less impressive than I thought.
But that comparison is irrelevant. Because for the first time in NZ, I tried the famous St Pierre’s Sushi chain at Newmarket.
Needless to say I was disappointed with the quality, choice of sushi on display and the flavours. It has nothing on Sushi Hub here in Australia and for such a big chain, I can’t believe people enjoy St Pierre with regularity.
They don’t even do nigiri …
But that is enough ragging on St. Pierre. At Newmarket, it was nice. The shops were nice, the architecture was modern with plenty of natural light filtering through and to be honest, that was all it had to be …. nice.
Alpacas
My partner clamoured me to visit an alpaca farm for the entirety of our planning. I was ambivalent about the whole thing, but in all honesty, who can deny cute animals?
So imagine my surprise, when despite her eagerness, she froze up in fear at the sight of the animals and couldn’t hand feed them.
I ended up having to feed all of them. Their teeth actually tickled my hand a lot and it was a really fun experience for me, getting so close to such fluffy and cute animals. One thing that I definitely could have worked on was consoling my poor girlfriend though. She was terrified yet entranced by the alpacas and I should have comforted her a bit more.
In the end, we did snag a very cute souvenir (a tiny alpaca plush) and my partner didn’t seem to regret going to see these cute alpacas in reality. So that’s is what is important.
Street Market
There is an Auckland Night Market that bounces around the neighbourhood of the city every two weeks. This nomadic nature of the market means that it can appear in the most random locations and bring a party like atmosphere anywhere, any time.
The one we went to was in a Kmart underground parking lot and was dope as hell. Filled to the rafters with young people who brought their usual energy, vibes and custom cars, the night market was one of those experiences that made me feel like I was one of the locals. All kinds of people came to the market to trade their knock-off wares and buy random DVDs, croc charms and cheap NZ and Asian food. There was even a Vietnamese nail salon that offered its services and it was amazing to see lines of women waiting their turn.
There was a real authentic atmosphere in this tiny carpark where the night market had chosen its spot and that was what made it such an amazing experience. I loved walking around, checking out all the different kinds of food and trading cash with the cashiers. The down and dirty style of creating an event like this bought back so much nostalgia for me, because this was the kind of festival I liked going to as a kid.
The lack of safety oversight (no barriers between us and the hot cooking stove for example), the simple marquees, the eskies with drinks and ice …. this was the kind of festival I grew up around and being able to experience that same homely vibe in another country was just amazing.
The NZ Army
One of the most intriguing elements of NZ was the attitude towards the military. Unlike here in Australia, which largely dismisses or hides its military achievements, in NZ it was the opposite. I would like to argue that there is a direct link to the proud warrior traditions and culture of the Maori people to modern warfighting that ensures people who live in NZ are always respectful and solemn when it comes to all matters concerning the military.
After all, the national traditional dance, the haka is a war dance, designed to hype up its dancers to a bloodthirsty frenzy. Whilst it is a welcoming act, it is also a direct reminder of how Maori tribes used to fight each other for territory and supplies.
I think that this historical context is important to the reverence I can sense in a lot of people when it comes to war. They are proud of their small but capable military and are not afraid to show it.
This was seen in 3 major ways across my trip. The first, was obvious. A lot of the street names are named after famous military figures or battles. The second was the Gallipoli exhibition in the Te Papa national museum. Designed and created by the famous Weta workshop, these stunning, 3x larger than life statues are stunningly realistic and haunting. I was obsessed with the amount of details and care the geniuses at Weta put into these statues and they are a brilliant testament to the men and women who fought in WW1.
From the uniforms, the hairs on the statue faces, the oversized pistols and ornaments, the Gallipoli exhibition is truly a haunting experience. I don’t think anyone who walks out of that exhibition will underestimate just how seriously the people of New Zealand treat their military past.
The final major element for me was the amazing National Army Museum at the foot of Mt. Ruapehu (picture above). Even when you first walk in, you are greeted with the jade green of NZ’s national stone and hundreds of red poppies that commemorate NZ’s role in WW1. It’s a beautiful entrance to a huge museum that showcases every single aspect of every war NZ has ever been involved in.
From enemy weapons, to allies uniforms, there is so much to see, stare at and study in that museum. Japanese WW2 uniforms are shown next to Viet-Cong equipment. Then in a room over, you can see a mock-up what it is like to man a machine-gun nest in Africa, to experience what the infamous SASR go through in training, and even look at recovered weapons that feature bullet frag in them.
What really got the inner gun nerd in me geeking out though, was the gun room.
From flintlocks, to HK 416 rifles, there was just so much firearm history in the bottom. I loved that they featured every single faction’s common weapons, like German MP40s next to New Zealand marked M16A1s. I bored my poor partner to tears, listing off every single weapon I recognised, every single calibre, where they were used and what role they fulfilled.
To me, stepping into that gun room, was like a time portal, where I could appreciate every single individual soldier’s commitment to a cause greater than themselves and that these were the tools they used to prove that commitment.
I loved it, and I loved exploring NZ’s military history, because the same reverence for the military is not prevalent here in Australia. I got to really indulge in my inner military historian side and that is one of the main reasons why NZ is so high up there.
That and for some bizarre reason, as I was driving through NZ, I came across a repurposed Mil Mi-8 Russian utility helicopter near Huka Falls.
It was so random, bizarre and upon further study, it used to be Fidel Castro’s transport helicopter, and was even briefly a Nicaraguan presidential helicopter.
Now, it’s latest addition to its provenance, was a brief stint as a tour helicopter for passengers across NZ before her sister ship was involved in a horrible accident. Right now though, she currently sits dormant, waiting for the next random military aviation enthusiast like myself to come by and gawk.
Airsoft
Being able to experience airsoft for the first time, was a dream and a nightmare come true for me. I’ve always been jealous of the events Americans hold in their home country, such as Milsim West and other insane large scale events.
After all, who doesn’t want to pretend to be a solider for a day.
But I quickly learned that airsoft hurts like a bitch.
First, it humbles me, at just how fast I die.
Second, it fractures my ego when I realise how much it hurts to get shot.
Third, it proves that the idea of doing CQB solo means that I die within seconds.
Airsoft was fun, frantic and painful. In so many ways, you need a team with you to cover all the angles and I have never felt so much adrenaline being dumped into my body when I score hits or take them. It’s such a huge rush prepping your weapon, clearing corners and constantly scanning your surroundings.
But alas, the weapon they gave me, was a piece of junk, it lacked power, range and rate of fire and constantly jammed.
Despite that though, I was more pleased with my outfit and loadout. I was testing my latest shoes from On Running, the Cloudwanders, putting some serious pace in my Levi’s jeans, and Arcteryx henley and finally getting a chance to rock the paintball mask I had bought for myself all those years ago.
What absolutely sucked though, was seeing my poor girlfriend get shot so many times and having a miserable experienced. What made it even worse was that I couldn’t even protect her properly.
Which of course, humbled me right away. It dashed my dreams of being some ultra slick operator with the skills to protect my girlfriend in a terrorist attack.
And whilst airsoft did bring my ego down by a huge margin, it did motivate me to get fitter, and learn to take risks and be aggressive. Because whenever I did just that …. I often came out on top.
So, the moral of the story here is, after a few rounds of airsoft?
Get fitter, get quicker and get better.
Just get good.
Otherwise I’m dead.
Skyline Rotorua
Rotorua might be one of the most attractive places I have ever seen.
If there was an image of what earth, wind and water looked like in combination, to show to an alien, Rotorua might be the most idyllic image to present.
The lake itself is practically a mini-ocean. The rock formations that form along the lake borders and the little islands in the middle are absolutely stunning. Everywhere you look, it’s an incredible view.
I don’t know how else to put it in words. There’s a peace and serenity to Rotorua that just makes you want to live an idyllic life by the water and the mountains. What’s more, is the Skyline attraction, in which you take a gorgeous cable car up the mountain, before sledding down in a tiny kart that only features brakes and limited steering.
I remember seeing the view as the cable car climbed and honestly, it took my breath away. It was such a beautiful, serene, untouched view of nature that I really wished more places looked like this.
After all, Australia does not have this level of green and blue. It’s much more golden and red, and I could instantly see why people in NZ seem much happier, less bothered by the troubles of the world. Because when you are graced with this kind of view every day, how could you stay unhappy?
Rotorua is just one of those places that lets you escape from the world with it’s beauty, slower pace and serene views. It’s the place where you want to retire to, and just live out the rest of your life in natural landscapes that let you breathe without stress, or fear.
Let’s just sum up Rotorua as … if I had to buy a retirement home … it would be there.
NZ Misadventures
My partner and I did a lot of random little things in NZ.
We accidentally stumbled across two festivals, one in Rotorua, a humble, family friendly one with local wares and food trucks.
And another, Christmas-beach themed one that prevented us from entering our apartment for 2 hours and nearly made us burst our bladders. It was there I got to see how different Australians are from New Zealanders. The traffic controller … could not give two toss about how much of a hurry we were in to get home.
He did everything with a nonchalance that was borderline infuriating yet oddly hilarious.
It was the classic Kiwi’s indifference that really sold to us the fact that we were in a different country. Because if it wasn’t for that, and all the green, we would have thought that the entire country was just another state back home.
All these small things though, paled in comparison to the night where I locked my partner and I outside our apartment at 9pm in the evening.
To clarify, in order to get into our apartment, it requires two keys or swipes. One to get into the apartment building, and the other to get into the apartment itself.
I forgot to take the apartment one with me when I went out with my partner to do some quick grocery shopping at night.
We had no idea what to do. We tried knocking on the neighbour’s door. I entertained the idea of parkouring my way up into the balcony and opening it from the inside. We tried searching up the building’s phone number. We scoured our Airbnb records for any phone number.
Nothing worked. No response to the numbers we had. It was too late. The owners were probably asleep.
In the end, we gave up and sat in our car, hopeless and annoyed that our home was so close, yet so far.
Full credit to my partner though, and this is one of those moments in our relationship where I know I made the right choice in choosing who will stay by my side for the rest of my life … she did not get mad at me.
She was upset, tired and understandably annoyed, but she knew I was beating myself up way more than she ever could. So instead, she worked with me to find solutions, talked me about of dumb ones and eventually just tried to settle herself comfortably in what was going to be a long night.
It was then, as I was looking at her with huge sorrow, and I was playing with the swipe card, that I noticed a phone number on the back of it.
I called it.
A WOMAN ANSWERED.
I was beyond ecstatic. The owner instantly empathised with our situation, and wracked her brain to find a way to get in. At first, she didn’t give us much hope, as it was likely we had to wait til morning to get back in.
But then, she remembered that there was a cleaning locker with all the copies of the swipe cards in the building, and we could access it via … the basement carpark.
The hope that sprung in our hearts was excessive to say the least.
We went on an immediate scavenger hunt for the key to the cleaner’s lockers. I found the key atop a carpark’s support beam and cracked open the locker.
We took every single combination with us and gripping each other’s hands tightly, we went to our apartment door and ….
Click.
Bingo.
Hallelujah.
We got in and gave each other the biggest hug, before I did the right thing and entrusted my partner with the swipe cards this time and returned the ones we borrowed, before sending off the biggest and most grateful thank you to the Airbnb owner.
It was around midnight when we finally got back into our apartment and honestly … that was one of the best sleeps we ever had on the trip.
It’s moments like those, where I look at my partner and just think to myself … I’m so glad, I’m on a holiday with the right one.
Yes, I shared some incredible moments on this holiday with her, but that right there, proved to me, that she was the right person for me and I cannot wait to go on another holiday with her soon.
They say that international trips can make or break a relationship.
New Zealand made ours even better than it already was.
And for that, Aotearoa will always have a soft spot in my heart.
When I look at my brown eyes in the mirror, there is an intensity there that is softened by all the shittiness that has happened this year. My spirit is still strong, defiant … but it’s also tired and bruised from what I’ve put it through.
A key part of my balancing act in life, is to keep my natural arrogance in check through various mental exercises. The most important of which, is self-reflection and ensuring that I own up to any measure of blame.
This self-flagellation often means that I beat myself up regularly over mistakes that I know I could have avoided or done better.
It also comes in strongly whenever there are huge existential crises in my life. Whenever I look at a relationship, I know that there are always two sides to the story, two reasons why there is a fight and two ways of communicating.
It is up to me to take ownership of my side of the story, my reason why I chose to fight and why I chose to communicate my feelings that way.
A fight erupt over something as trivial as different cereals, but I have to own up to my reasons. The blame could be attributed to my friend by 70%, 90% or even 99% …. but the point is, I need to acknowledge my 30%, 10% or 1%.
Because without doing that, I will never learn how to communicate better with the other person and be a better person myself.
The only problem with that so far though … is that 2022 has had far too many crises for me to realistically handle all the self-blame.
Lady Luck has always been my patron Goddess. As strange that sounds, I actually do hold onto some old-school religious ideas, like the concept of a Pantheon of Gods instead of a singular one. I can’t quite seem to let go of that spiritual connection.
And within that Pantheon, there is always one that holds a special place in your heart.
Mine is named Lady Luck.
The other three I “worship” are: Melbourne, Eris the Goddess of Discord and Athena the Goddess of Wisdom and War.
To touch on all three briefly …
Melbourne.
I like to believe that every city has a soul, a spirit. The more you connect with this spirit, the more the city will unveil itself to you and be an exciting place to visit every time. Melbourne has always had this classical femme fatale visage in my mind. She’s elegant, always ahead of trends, is curvaceous and mysterious. She hides all her best secrets down laneways and it is up to you, to hear her siren calls and discover the best she has to offer.
I normally speak to Melbourne when I want her tempestuous weather moods to change and stabilise.
Eris, the Goddess of Discord
My adoration for Eris only goes so far. This is a relationship of neglect. Often there is not enough trouble for me to truly be switched on all the time and not be bored by my usual life. Which is why I often have to come to her and beg for something drastic to happen.
This irrecoverably blows up in my face and I then go running to Lady Luck to fix the mess. This is a relationship created out of boredom, where I want more excitement in my life, but Eris refuses to grant it, knowing that I can’t always handle her style.
Athena, the Goddess of War and Wisdom.
My favourite out of all the Greek Gods, Athena has always struck a chord with me, how she inspires intellectualism with natural inclinations to hunt and art. Beyond her symbolism with freedom, Athena’s origin has always fascinated me.
My relationship with Athena is one of simple adoration and aspiration. She inspires me to pursue a warrior-poet lifestyle and that just because I can fight, doesn’t mean I can’t do so with intellect as well as a sword.
Finally, my favourite Goddess of all,
Lady Luck
There is a genuine relationship here, with actual words and actions being exchanged on some level. Whether it is truly the work of a Goddess bending reality to suit me, or some type of strange subliminal telekinesis and mutant ability in the form of probability-warping, I got no idea, but there is no denying that sometimes things work out for me that normally would not occur in any other shape or form.
I’ve been blessed with this relationship with her, since a very young age, ever since I’ve acknowledged her.
Like most Goddesses, Lady Luck isn’t someone that I can just call upon whenever I need her. She requires careful readings of her mood, a precise understanding of her nature and an unwavering commitment to her and her alone.
I have been unfailingly loyal to her.
However, 2022 is the year where she and I have tested the boundaries of our relationship to the extremes.
As I’ve mentioned above though, it is not Lady Luck’s story that I am focusing on. I have to aim the magnifying glass on myself and see what I have done wrong, to see why this year, Lady Luck, has on multiple occasions given me huge emotional whiplash.
Beyond the obvious ones, such as the Formula 1 weekend that culminated in a raid, or the even smaller instances like a board game, perhaps the biggest whiplash I’ve experienced this year is the age old debate between career and love.
It is said that you remember the bad memories better than you relive the good ones.
However for my 2022 experience, it has been both at the same time that has caused me no end of consternation.
It has created within my mind, a paranoia around the feeling of happiness. For every extremely joyous moment, I am instantly struck, hours later by some terrible misfortune.
Let’s take one of the better weekends of my life, where I spent a Sunday at a racetrack, volunteering as a Flag marshal.
Having survived a near crash, spent the entire day relatively dry, despite the monsoon like weather and experiencing nearly 8 hours of incredible wet-racing, upon immediately climbing into my car, I was assaulted with severe back muscle pain, that left me unable to move properly for 2 days.
Where this pain came from, or the cause of it, I have no real idea, but it was deliberating enough to cripple me for a full day.
Joy …. Pain. The whiplash from a mental perspective is immense.
Every single good memory I have had this year, has been made less blissful by the immediate slap in the face by Lady Luck herself.
The apex of this mountain though, has to be the self-destruction of a 6-year relationship.
Our anniversary was meant to be a celebration of our past and present but it was the beginning of the end for me.
Again, it seems twisted that on the day of our anniversary, we had one of our biggest fights and was so close to breaking it off.
To add insult to injury even more, when she finally came back months later, hoping to resolve things with me … I broke it off the day she landed.
Another joyous occasion ruined. The day she came home to me, to repair everything, was the very day I decided to break her heart.
I still can’t look at myself in the mirror when I think about that. I’m not sure I’m even capable of being forgiving myself at the moment.
The day I lost her, was the day I lost a lot more than I originally anticipated.
A part of me was put down. I did it to myself, compressing and squeezing every last bit of that tiny piece of humanity, into nothing, so that I could really go through with the break-up. The guilt, the shame, the bizarre strength it took to overcome all those emotions in the moment … I lost a crucial part of what I felt like a core part of me, my sympathy for others, my ability to empathize.
I essentially traumatised myself. It was like using a hot brand, and searing it against my skin, a part of me forever marked by what I did.
I’ve also lost my feelings for another person as well. A part of me was wondering and wandering, excited to be in the presence of something new.
But that is gone now too. I’ve realised that the other person isn’t quite right for me either. At least, not what I need or want at the moment. They’re just incapable of offering me that kind of support.
Because the sad reality of this all, is that at the end of the day, I, alone, am the only one who can resolve this mess I am in.
And in order to do that, I need to really set boundaries for myself, learn not to push unrealistic expectations onto others and really keep my emotions in check. No one can fix the mess that I’ve created for myself.
Only I can.
It sounds strange to go through so many emotions, feelings of love, regret, guilt, crushing, nervousness and anger in such a short span of a week.
I keep fighting against myself, catching myself feeling one way and brusquely putting it aside to continue work. Then I will be OK for the next few hours, then comes an errant memory, over 6 years worth, and I will go back to feeling awful again.
The cycle will then continue. I will feel terrible, then put it aside, OK and stable for a few more hours, then terrible and immediately plugging that shit away.
If someone asked me why I simultaneously killed off all feelings of love inside me, I couldn’t give them a clear reason.
At the time, it felt like the right thing to do. Even now, the logical part of me is still arguing that it was.
It, being of course, the intense desire to be alone. To live a life without a partner.
But the heart refuses to listen and instead continues to assault my brain with immense waves of guilt, pain and internal suffering. I can’t sleep properly, eat comfortably or really enjoy myself in anything.
Life has become a bit duller.
You throw atop of this, my relationship with Lady Luck, which is now filled with paranoia and suspicion. I’ve suffered too much at her hands this year to really trust her. Perhaps, I’ve been worshipping the wrong Goddess the entire time, and it turns out I was actually paying homage to Eris, who has taken the guise of Lady Luck.
Shit. Perhaps that is a theory worth exploring further soon.
To sum things up, 2022 has been a chastening year. For all the incredible opportunities that I’ve had have this year, from making new friends, exploring new elements of my personality, landing two jobs that have opened up my world to the events industry, it has been marred by incredible loss.
The loss of some of my most prized possessions, the loss of my former introverted strength, the loss of my long-term girlfriend, the loss of my feelings and most crucially, the loss of a part of my soul.
When you compare the two, my gains and losses, I’ve parted ways with a lot more than what I’ve gotten back.
Look at yourself. Look at what you’ve asked yourself to give.
Do you even know truly why you are going through all of this?
I suppose the answer doesn’t really matter. Life is full of meaningless meaning and I suppose the sooner I embrace that, that there isn’t some sadistic, comforting purpose behind this pain, the sooner I can move on.
Perhaps one the most complex realisations I’ve had in a while, I’ve come to realise why there are so many lost souls out there today, who cling to shallow ideas, instead of deeper ideologies.
In a world where the internet more or less is detrimental rather than beneficial (I would be writing this on paper if my handwriting could keep up with my mind), where people are bombarded with more information than they’ve ever have before and are living in perpetual denial and conflict with themselves, I’ve noted a singular issue, that has not really been raised when discussing identity.
Spirituality and philosophy or the lack thereof.
I can only speak from my own lens, but growing up, I remember reading this particularly bloody and violent book called The Ninja by Eric van Lustbader, in which he explores both Western and Eastern philosophies through the lens of martial arts and a unique character who was raised in Japan, but is of European descent.
Beyond the sex, violence and exotic descriptions of Far East locales, I was struck by the exploration of zen philosophies and the concept of wa (harmony) in the book, something that I’ve actually forgotten about until recently diving back into The Last Samurai soundtrack, which I listened to a lot whilst reading the book.
This spark suddenly shone a light of context on a discussion I’ve been having within myself about the current plight of young people and in particular their strange obsession with basing their whole personality around lots of arbitrary terms. Gender, sexuality, ethnicity, jobs … singular parts of a whole, yet for a lot of people, it is the base for their whole being.
Spirituality and philosophy are both dying slowly in the modern world. Both require you to slow down and ponder, something that many people struggle with in an age where technology is so rapid.
Some would even consider them a waste of time.
What is the purpose of slowing down when you are stressed about 1000 other things? You don’t have time to reflect. And when you do, all you can think about are your failures and the mountain of work ahead of you.
This attitude is exactly why spirituality and philosophy exist. These concepts help you create a mental bulwark against life, and allow you to explore parts of yourself that you didn’t know existed before. It allows you to block out the physical stresses that your body inflicts on your mind and really helps you broaden your mind to your senses and capacities.
Spirituality and philosophy allows you to avoid aporia.
Perhaps one of the strangest lessons I’ve taken out of reading those Ninja books, was the idea about embracing and relaxing around pain. I don’t brace myself or clench before a painful hit or wound. Instead I relax and allow it to do its course. The pain is less intense this way and helps you recover your wits quicker.
The same philosophy applies to spicy food. I believe that it is better to let the heat run its course, than try to find shallow relief in milk or water because the pain only comes back more acutely.
Philosophy and spirituality are very crucial components to creating good mental health and abilities. I find myself clinging to strange beliefs about equilibrium when confronted with something bad, or trying to achieve a zero state, something that I learned again through the book and my study into the concept of zen.
Other examples of my strange beliefs are: I believe that my home town, Melbourne, is actually a beautiful woman in my mind, that I talk to when I don’t want rain to hit me when I’m out.
Lady Luck is a genuine deity that needs constant ministrations and seducing to be on my side.
I can lower pain with the power of my mind, by sinking deeper into a strange level of consciousness where the sensation of pain is more tolerable. I use this at the dentist all the time.
The point is … whilst I am not a believer in God, or any real religion, I still practice some form of spirituality and apply my philosophical ideas in practice.
This brings me back to zen and the concept of zero. As strange as it sounds, I genuinely do not have a lot of thoughts in my mind. My mind is not in constant flux, stressed about something or the other. It is largely empty and quiet, activated only when I need it.
If I take this essay for example, I am not writing it out in my head, then typing it. Words appear on screen, the same time as I think them. The same happens in conversations, and random monologues that we all experience at some point in our lives.
Beyond that, my mind is not always thinking. It is still and quiet, zero.
Zero as a philosophy is a very intriguing concept. It is seen as a place of infinite possibility, an inverse of the idea that by having zero, you have nothing. Avoid the more Western idea that zero equates to nothing. In Eastern philosophy, the concept of zero actually frees you to the world. It is boundless and never ending, an endless source of inspiration and creativity.
In zero, nothing and everything can exist. Past, present, future, whole or parts … they all exist and don’t exist. There is no distinction between them all.
I practice this concept all the time, with the emptiness of my mind. Ideas come to me, like fish does to a patient fisherman. I need only to put my hand out and tickle the belly and the idea will jump out of the river and into my lap.
In a strange way, I suppose I’ve always been attuned to the zen approach to life. My belief in equality, bad or good, the ability to be attuned to my emotions but never be ruled by them … my constant self-reflection in what I can do better and what I should let go of …
I’ve always paraded myself as a man of ruthless logic and reason, but somehow that never quite described how complex I really am. I am philosophical in a lot of ways too, just not in the same vein of the famous Greek definition of the word.
Am I saying that you should practice zero? Of course not. Have you been following my greater point?
I am saying that you should explore different philosophies and see how they can help you, change mindsets or even lifestyles.
Mine is quite Asiatic inspired, the constant desire to improve oneself, and seek discipline in all aspect of life. There aren’t questions about life, about death or trying to make sense of it all, I just accept that I am here and will work to improve myself.
I don’t give in to nihilism because that is ultimately self-defeating … I just focus solely on what I can achieve in this short time I have on Earth.
So why do I use the word aporia to describe certain people living in the year 2022?
I believe that one of the key fundamental issues that people have in a increasingly non-religious world, is that people lack that inner spirituality, the inner harmony that will help them excel in life, no matter what happens to them.
Living in a Western society, it is far too easy to not discover deeper Eastern philosophies. We aren’t taught them, and increasingly, especially in Asia, we don’t get to experience them either. Famous school of thoughts in China, Japan and other parts of Asia, have now been made irrelevant in a world more globalised and arguably Westernised than ever before.
The world has moved on from deeper spiritual connections in search of something else, that will never quite satisfy the soul but will help you survive the complex maze that is the 21st Century: money.
In this contemporary world, money is more or less the new philosophy that drives people’s existence. It is not enough to be alive, but now you must own essential items that will help make you a functioning member of society.
The trust from people that you will contribute to the fabric of your community by improving yourself, isn’t there. The irony of it all though, is that you can own a car, work 76 hours a fortnight, be married with 2 kids and a homeowner and still be absolutely miserable and on suicide watch.
To truly address the hole, the void that exists in all of us, I believe that we all need to live in the present and fill it up with sensations, ideas and fulfilling moments.
That comes from a spiritual belief in something. Something deeper than selecting a part of ourselves that we define ourselves by. Something greater than our normal daily existence. It’s about exploring how we fit in the world, not how the world fits us.
For me, despite not being a very “outdoor” person (I prefer urban environments to forests), I still retain a strong belief in indigenous ideals about “Mother Earth” and doing one’s part to look after the environment you are in. I routinely pick up rubbish … whenever I see it. I address and see Melbourne as a living goddess that needs help, and have imaginary conversations with her and how we can help each other.
I still need that connection to the land, when I am out and about. What I take from the land, one day, I must return.
Equilibrium.
It’s not enough to acknowledge some traditional owner, or pass your respect to some dead ancestor of yesteryear … what are you doing now to actually pay homage to them? Are you sorting out your recycling? Avoiding going to events that create a lot of rubbish? Are you even aware of their fundamental beliefs?
Spirituality encourages a lifestyle shift in something greater than empty buzzwords. It’s so easy to say stuff and then do the complete opposite. People engage in shibboleth every single day … but how many of us actually try to take a spiritual approach to things?
How many of us actually do a service simply because you want to and don’t see any rewards?
I have a love/hate relationship with my conscience. When I see something is wrong, from rubbish at a park, to lost dogs, I can’t help but create a huge emotional conflict within myself. A part of me want to ignore it and don’t go out of my way to help, but my heart tells me otherwise and warns me I’ll regret it later. I can always find time to help someone, or do something. A couple more steps to the bin isn’t going to hurt my legs, nor is an hour spent with random dogs that escaped their owner’s home.
I just feel compelled to do something … blame my spirituality, my conscience or my personal philosophy … at the end of the day, I have to do it, regardless of how wasteful it might be or whether I get a reward or not.
I have to do it, to maintain wa.
Because at the end of the day, I have to be responsible for myself, my actions and my memories. I can look back on my memories with regret or pride. Either way, I got to make a choice, and I need to make sure that choice will create internal harmony.
If you ever find yourself struggling to identify something wrong with your life, at this current time, perhaps it is time for you to look up a philosophical affirmation or a spiritual guide.
Then act upon it. Apply it to every aspect of your life. Understand that everything you do, contribute to the whole of your life, every little thing, from skipping a meal to helping a friend. You will always be a greater sum, than just your hobbies, your friends, your possessions and your family.
You are you. Everything you are, and nothing you aren’t.
Isn’t that a strangely enlightening and spiritual realisation?
Tidal River, Wilson Promontory, Victoria, Australia. The home of Gabriel Woods in the novel.
First of all, I have to thank you. Yes, you!
For bearing with my horrible upload schedule. I was recently looking back at the very first Espionage chapter and I was horrified to see that I uploaded that, way back on October 10, 2020!
I cannot believe that it took me longer than a year to finish this novel, especially when I compare how quickly I finished the Noir story way back in 2020; only 8 days!
So thanks for your patience and a big appreciative shout out for those who were invested in this story since October 2020 and I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride!
Now to discuss some of the heavy influences in this story.
The Big Four are, in no particular order:
The Jason Bourne movies
Matthew Reilly, the author.
Call of Duty: Modern Warfare (2019)
The Gabriel Allon series by Daniel Silva
For those who are fans of the Bourne series, you can see how much I based the final location of the story on the training facility in Bourne Ultimatum (2007). From the style of the rooms to the execution sequence, I derived a lot of the Sphinx’s backstory and ultimate relationship with the Wolf on that climatic scene in the Bourne Ultimatum.
You will also notice how I used the Waterloo sequence in that movie to base my Alexanderplatz action sequence. However, the way how the takedown goes is directly inspired by the Gabriel Allon series, where he is also confronted with multiple suicide bombers at a station.
I will also credit John Powell’s work on the score of the series for being the main soundtrack of the entire story, as I was using a lot of his work to write with. So thanks Mr. Powell for such a fun score!
The 2019 remake of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare’s influence can be heavily seen in the Counter Revolutionary Warfare chapter. I based most of that, off the infamous Piccadilly Circus mission and the panic I felt for the first time, as I was confronted with s-bombers and gunmen everywhere, at the heart of London.
But to balance the hardcore action of that series and bring in a human touch, I had Gabriel escort Liz, a waitress, to the hospital. Doing so, I thought, allowed you guys to take a breather before the big dump of action all the way to the end. It also allowed me to seamlessly give Gabriel a way to find the Sphinx and Sofia in one of the biggest cities in the world.
I want to thank my rediscovery of Matthew Reilly’s books to actually finish this series with such a big bang. You can see, very clearly, when I started to take up his books again, because the starting action sequences in Woods and Alexanderplatz are a little less bombastic than the sequences in the latter half of the book.
But I had a lot more fun writing these over-the-top action sequences and really crafting the Wolf to be the big bad behind the Sphinx’s terrible actions. I was inspired by the recent Reilly books to give the Wolf a wall of trophies, but since I didn’t want to do the carbonite option, I decided to go with the index finger, arguably one of our most valuable fingers, collection.
I really let my imagination run wild, creating his lair. I wanted it to be epic in scale, a place where the Wolf would sleep, work and live in perpetual limbo. After all he is dead and so he should rarely venture outside. Yet he has to do so at some point, thus the facial recognition program pinpoints him to this location.
The Institute was a lot of fun to design. I squeezed the most out of it, with flashbacks to the Sphinx’s tragic past in the interrogation wing and then the quick action sequence in the kill-house. It was so much fun to really play with these areas and help flesh out the Sphinx’s motivations.
I actually struggled to give the Sphinx a proper motivation to kill, until I thought about William Aitken and how he was supposed to be dead. I literally congratulated myself when I came across the idea of turning him into this vicious, father figure that the Sphinx could pin all his attacks on.
It made the Sphinx much more relatable and human, something that I think, all villains need. Near the end, it became much more about the Sphinx than it did the Prince, and I’m OK with that, as the Prince should always have a level of detachment and coldness to his targets.
After all, that sort of emotional distance is necessary for an assassin and helps showcase how Woods and the Prince are almost two different characters.
Speaking of the Sphinx, how about his other half?
Sofia Sumarwata was actually a really fun character to invent. I wanted her to be the foil in which these two men interact with each other through her. Her story had to be intense, tragic and romantic. After all, this is Valentine’s Day.
I really loved her ending in the chapter: In the Woods, because it seemed so haunting that someone so beautiful and dressed so attractively, knocking on the heart of British Parliament could have such ill-intent.
In actuality, I was going to have this big emotional traumatic moment where the Prince is just about to kill the Sphinx, but Sofia steps in front of the bullet. But I felt like that was cheap and overdone, so I instead made her an S-bomber, which I thought was more in line with the Sphinx’s cruel and cold nature, and gave her the biggest send-off.
I’m still surprised myself, that I was able to create that strong image of red against all the bleak London architecture. Blame Spielberg!
So where did the Round Table come from?
The Round Table, a shadowy organisation I nicked from Matthew Reilly, was just a fun idea that I wanted to insert. I was originally going to make the British government be the big bad, but honestly, I had grown attached to the character of James Ashford and didn’t want to complicate things too much by having Ashford also be the big bad.
So I decided to create another organisation, with a cool English name and Latin motto. Honestly, I quite like the idea of doing a sequel where the Prince goes up against them but even if I don’t, I think I’ve left enough to imagine how the Prince would tackle them.
I did like how the Round Table would assign iconic Knight names to their leaders, and I must say it was fun revisiting Arthurian legend and interpreting it for the modern day.
Where did the inspiration for the brutal house overlooking a cliff, at the bottom of the world come from?
The first mission in Io Interactive’s Hitman 2 (2018).
I absolutely loved the aesthetic of that house situated so close to the beach, amidst all a full blown Pacific storm. I knew that I wanted to replicate that for my main character, since it is something I would 100% realise in reality for myself, if I had incredible financial resources.
One thing that I have always loved about that game, is the sheer detail and modern approach to architecture and I must commend the developers for their attention to detail, lines and overall level design.
Normally in my writing, I like to emphasise sound. Normally it’s the name of song that I would like you to listen to whilst reading, but I honestly could not insert any iconic songs in this story. It’s why you’ll see a lot more liberal use of crack! blam! and other such words to really convey how loud or explosive something is in the story.
Sound is a such a crucial medium, something that isn’t lost on me, considering how much I devour music, and as such I wanted to really convey noises well in my action sequences.
Speaking of which, I hope you guys didn’t mind all the destruction I wreaked across London. I honestly, had a lot of sadistic plans and most of them come from my unfounded fear of being caught in one of these terrorists acts one day.
I chose London, because it is a well-known hotbed of Islamophobia and honestly, has a lot of character to her buildings and is easily recognised by a lot of people. I was actually surprised how much I was able to squeeze out of the location and hoped that I did it justice!
If I got anything wrong about the location, that’s between me and Google Earth, as I have never been to London prior to writing this. So I pulled a lot of creative liberties and licences outta nowhere to get the story to flow. Like you can definitely tell, I’ve never seen the inside of 10 Downing Street but I did my best to approximate it!
Coincidentally, I was actually really happy to see such a boring building at St James’ Square because my original intention for the Sphinx was to find the house of the Wolf at that location.
Sometimes, I need a bit of luck to make something as cool as the Institute appear!
Just a quick aside, for those who have come here from my completed novel, you will note that the chapter version of the story has a tiny bit less content. The novel version has a much more complete ending, an extra part with the Sphinx rescuing Sofia and quite a few corrections with wording and grammar.
So for those who have only read my “chapter” version, feel free to check out the novel which is the definite way to read this story!
Finally, we come to Gabriel Woods himself. Where the inspiration for his nickname come from?
Prince Andrews.
I was inspired by the recent turmoil surrounding Andrews in the press recently and thought about how interesting it would be if he mysteriously disappeared due to his actions and the direct embarrassment he dealt to the Royal Family.
I was also inspired by the Gabriel Allon books, of which you’ll note, I sometimes use very flowery prose, a habit I’ve picked up from the author of the books. I wanted my violence to be brutal and horrific, but I also wanted it to have a touch of class.
By naming my main character the Prince, it strangely lends an elegant touch to his violent actions and thus make everything seems more like battle-ballet than it does a war scene. I thought it was cool to have his nicknamed derived from his most famous kill, which sadly I did not go into detail for.
But then that only adds to his mystique and I think I would rather leave some things up to your imagination!
I am really happy that I finished this novel, which makes it the third one I’ve ever fully written. It may not have mass appeal, but I’m glad you guys seem to enjoy it and that’s enough for me.
Thank you again for being such a captive audience!
As I sit here, at 0400HRS, listening to Vangelis’ Blade Runner score, with only the light of my PC screen to display what I am writing, I realise that a dystopia has arrived.
It wasn’t in some far away future of 2049, distant on some screen directed by a film-maker … it was present and I, unwittingly and subconsciously, willed it into existence.
WAR IS PEACE. FREEDOM IS SLAVERY. IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH.
Let us wage war against the pandemic. Let us confine ourselves to be free. Let us believe what we are told.
How did this happen? Why did I allow it happen?
What happened to my anarchist spirit?
Why did I not pick this up sooner?
But that is the thing about dystopias … they have a way of not being real. They can’t happen in reality … humanity has too much goodness in it. Someone would stop it … a hero like William Shatner’s James T. Kirk would make a impassioned speech about how wrong the way of the world was going.
That speech would inspire others.
Change would occur for the better.
The world could continue on its axis, spinning in its’ way into a brighter future.
But what if that hero was twisted with fear. Scared for his life. Afraid of the air itself … Everything he touched and saw was now infected.
Where will this speech come from now? The Hero is choking, coughing and muzzling himself with the crook of his arm. He can no longer serve the people any more. He’s a sickness, a virus, a disease … a plague.
Who will inspire us to be better? To be more free than we were before?
This is the 6th Lockdown that my beautiful home-town of Melbourne is undergoing.
There are empty promises of it ending soon.
Reassurances that the government has our best interest at heart.
People encourage each other to obey, be strong, and suffer together.
Staying Apart Keeps Us Together.
Catchy isn’t it?
But so is Strength Through Unity, Unity Through Faith.
I need not recount the plot of V for Vendetta (2005) for you all to understand the allegory I am making between film and reality. Naturally it is all eerily similar, but then so is the plot for a lot of stories. Nothing is original these days …
What is fascinating to me though, is the sudden realisation I had about the dystopian world I am currently living in and the immediate comparison I’ve made to this film, with the St. Mary’s Virus paving the way for the dystopian society created in Britain.
From curfews, to harsh edicts and penalties, the dystopian elements of my own reality consumed me so much, that I am here now, writing it all out, despite the lateness of the hour.
The idea of a “COVID-Normal” is such a bizarre concept to me. Further lockdowns can be triggered at a moment’s notice … further tracking and surveillance of your movements is now actively encouraged and mandatory. Only being able to leave your house for 5 approved reasons. You are now confined to a 5km/h radius of your home.
What part of that, does not sound like a dystopia?
When did we, the iconic stubborn, free-loving people of Australia, suddenly agree to submit to whatever the government says?
Fear of one another turned all of us into meek sheep or perhaps our infamously laid-back attitude offered an opportunity ripe for zealous policing.
You could no longer trust the people that brushed past you at a crowded party. Ordinary surfaces like the PB/5 tactile button for crosswalks were now tainted with something. Alcohol was now consumed in larger quantities than ever before, to clean hands, tables, hand-rails … anything that transmitted the disease was now scrubbed vigorously.
You can’t even breathe within 1.5m of another person, without a mask on your face.
The media did what it did best in today’s society …. stoke terror further in everyone’s heart.
Numbers are suddenly determination for your mood for the day. You read about how bad other countries or states have it and silently thank everyone else in your home for cooperating. Then minutes later, your heart sinks as you look on enviously at other countries that have opened up again, their carefree attitudes mocking your own stressed state.
Much like Trump’s presidency, the media is fixated on this crisis, unwilling to report on anything else, holding a perpetual gun to everyone’s head to hear their despairing news, because they need to make revenue through fear.
Isn’t it amazing how where once we only used to hear from our illustrious leaders when it was important, we now have daily “reassurances” from politicians who claim to have our best interest at heart.
We all want to tune in to the state news and hear what is their plan, what is their road-map to keeping us safe from each other.
Staying Apart Keeps Us Together.
Repeat that, until you believe in its’ strange juxtaposition.
Repeat that, until you accept the new “normal”, where we are all now monitored.
Repeat that, until you hear the cries of protests, as unlawful and unpatriotic.
Repeat that, until you forget what freedoms you had, because you’ve known no other reality for 2 years.
Repeat that, until you know that the jail you’ve populated with junk is now your home and you are confined to it.
Repeat that, until you walk outside, and are seemingly grateful for the 2 hours of exercise you’ve been granted.
Staying Apart Keeps Us Together.
There is no denying in history that police states have arisen thanks to terrifying crises. To name a few ….
Russia (1921) – Famine // United Kingdom (1939) – WWII Blackout // Germany (1930) – Nazi Party // South Africa (1948) – Apartheid // Egypt (2013) – Economic Crisis // Australia (1964) – Vietnam National Service Scheme
Yet despite these warning signs in history, we are all too easily swayed into accepting draconian measures for our safety. Often it is too late when we realise something is wrong, because naturally our fear has been stoked to such a degree that it takes a while to calm ourselves down.
Yet, here I am, sleepless, restless, anxious and paranoid. It isn’t the pandemic that I fear any more, it’s the dystopian world that I have seemingly allowed to manifest itself from film into reality.
The numbers have lost all meaning to me. The cases will always be around, regardless of vaccination. That is just the nature of the virus, just like how you can be vaccinated against the flu and still get the flu.
The endless debates on the pandemic is not of any particular concern to me. Humanity as a whole is far too resilient to be taken down by this one.
The real horror lies in how humanity has turned against itself.
Corporations turning the pandemic to their advantage and making huge profits at the cost of people’s health.
Work at home says the company man, to the initial joy of the drones. The drones content with the idea of operating at home at later hours and in the comfort of their home, suddenly find themselves unable to switch off, because now the work is home.
Their work-life balance is horrible, their health slowly decay at home and what was once a sanctuary is now another soulless room with 4 walls. All identity has sucked away by endless zoom calls and procrastination.
You’ll be subsidised by the government says the manager to the retail staff. The retail worker heads home, happy to take a break. Serving customers all day is a pain in the arse and they can take a holiday of sorts. But when they apply for pandemic aid, they realise that they’re missing 500 dollars that they normally need to make ends meet.
Suddenly they crave going back to work. Home isn’t as exciting. The food is blander than their normal lunches, the lack of social interaction is driving them mad. The 8 hours in a shift, bored at work, is now even more boring at home. Self-destruction awaits.
I’ll take you, but I have to let the rest of you go.says the chef to his casual staff. The once tight-knit group of workers, bonding over the universal suffering of hospitality are now split asunder by the favouritism. Why does that girl get the shift? asks a disgruntled waiter as he heads home, where he throws his towel in the wash.
How the hell am I going to pay rent? wonders a sous-chef as the restaurant that he bled, toiled and slaved away in for years shut down, due to a lack of customers. I can’t enjoy a drink there anymore? queries a long time patron as she stares inside the desolate window of her favourite wine bar, the LEASE sign mocking her nostalgic sadness.
Everywhere, the pandemic and by extension, the government has slowly laid waste to the creative and fun industries.
You can no longer attend events, eat at a fancy restaurant, appreciate the coffee of your favourite barista, pop in to see a movie or even engage in a fun activity with your friends.
We’ve turned against each other now … all the things that used to bind us together, maintain relationships and foster trust in a community has been stripped away from us.
Hugs …. Handshakes … Fist Bumps … Kisses ….
Illegal. Disapproved. Illicit. Disgusting even.
Welcome to the dystopia of 2021, where humanity has sacrificed emotional bonds for complete subjugation.
Enjoy your new prison, continue to make the economy strong with useless purchases that will never satiate you.
Enjoy your new restrictions, continue to exercise with caution and fear, please maintain a safe distance between you and everyone else.
Enjoy your new normal, please check in everywhere so we can track your movements. Failure to do so will result in heavy fines.
Enjoy your new interactions, if you miss your friends, do not visit them in person, just call them via a screen.
Enjoy your new reality. We are a dystopia masquerading as a utopia.
This is London ≠This is Melbourne.
Good evening,London Melbourne..
Allow me first to apologize for this interruption.
I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of every day routine- the security of the familiar, the tranquillity of repetition.
I enjoy them as much as any bloke.
But in the spirit of commemoration, whereby those important events of the past, usually associated with someone’s death or the end of some awful bloody struggle, a celebration of a nice holiday, I thought we could mark this November the 5th, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat.
There are of course those who do not want us to speak.
I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way.
Why?
Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power.
Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth.
And the truth is, thereis something terribly wrong with this country, isn’t there?
Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression.
And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission.
How did this happen?
Who’s to blame?
Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable.
But again truth be told, if you’re looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror.
I know why you did it.
I know you were afraid.
Who wouldn’t be?
War, terror, disease.
There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense.
Fear got the best of you, and in your panic you turned to the now high chancellor, Adam Sutler premier.
He promised you order, he promised you peace, and all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent.
(Alan Moore – V for Vendetta (1982) )
Staying Apart Keeps Us Together.
Staying Apart is the Best Way to Stay United.
Stay Home, Save Lives.
Obey the Rules and Stay Home.
OUR UTOPIA IS ONLY THREATENED BY YOU.
V for Vendetta (2005). Strength Through Unity, Unity Through Faith ≠Staying Apart Keeps Us Together.
I was a dumb American, in a place where dumb Americans were less popular than the clap.Â
Released: 2012
Publisher: Rockstar
Y/N? Yes.
Synopsis:Â
8 years on, Max Payne 3 still provides heavy hitting and visceral entertainment. Its’ gun-play is smooth and snappy, the narrative gripping and dark, and James McCaffrey’s voice is as grizzled, tough and memorable as ever.
If you are after the short and sharp review, then yes, I would recommend this game. It still looks great, it plays great, the music is unique, the plot is gripping and the overall experience is stellar, as to be expected from a Rockstar release.
An even shorter version is this:
Gameplay: Y
Narrative: Y
Graphics: Y
Soundscape: Y
Experience: Y
But Retrospectives are all about diving deeper into games and seeing what makes them tick.
So here we go …
Game-play
Max Payne is known for its’ innovative use of bullet time and John Woo like experience. In this third iteration, it is expanded upon and made cinematic. The screen pulses whenever you activate bullet time, and the gore is ramped up to allow you to feel every impact that each round creates as it enters your foe.
Max is also slower, more realistic in how he perform these death-defying stunts in comparison to Max Payne 2. He runs slower, a subtle sign of his age, and you can hear explosive grunts as he desperately tries to contort his body in impossible pirouettes and dives to make the shots you want him to make.
Of particular note, is the final death cam that activates whenever you kill the final enemy in a particular section. Gory, bombastic and visceral, it allows you to pump round after round into the enemy, watching their body slump, and rag in glorious slow-motion. There is a cathartic relief in doing so, a gleeful moment to expel frustration, to counter the sensation of being pinned down by so many enemy NPCs earlier.
Subtle details like Max holding a primary weapon, instead of it disappearing into thin air, or the wisecracks Max provides whenever taking another of his iconic painkillers, are all welcome additions to the game. It generates immersion on a level rarely seen in other games, especially since Rockstar made exhaustive efforts to map out and create a realistic, lived-in Sao Paulo.
The gun-play itself, is unique. Having made significant strides in Grand Theft Auto IV, Rockstar attempted to really hone their formula, crafting a strange slow is smooth, smooth is fast mechanic to the gun-play.
Shots are easy to land, but Max’s movements are not typically quick or very snappy as seen in other third person shooters such as Uncharted. But it is not inexorably slow like Resident Evil.
Instead, Max Payne exists in between the two. Recoil is noted, the bark of each gun a violent kick, making follow up shots somewhat unwieldy and imprecise. Automatic long guns like the AK-47 or the G36V feel violent and strangely controllable in a unsteady way.
Where gun-play shines the most is when Max is armed with a pistol. Pistols have always traditionally been Max’s primary armament, especially the famous Beretta. They are precise, and fun, quick and rapid, allowing you to transition from target to target with ease.
Ammunition is oddly scarce at times, forcing you to scrounge for enemy guns to use. This allows for better exploration of the guns on offer, and of course encourage you to find the golden parts to get a better version.
However the biggest detriment to Max Payne’s overall game-play is its’ level design. Linear in the extreme, it is essentially a corridor shooter, with extremely little wiggle room to explore or see. Gorgeous backdrops act like matte paintings, there but never really in frame.
Max Payne offers a unique take on the third person shooter genre, forcing you to be precise with your shots, but fast on the transitions, to really excel at the gun-play. The bullet-time is always a blast, especially with its cinematic death-cam.
Akimbo Uzis will never go out of style.
Narrative.Â
Of the three games, Max Payne 3 takes obvious risks by taking the New Yorker out of his natural habitat and throwing him into the humidity of a Brazilian favela. While some derided the decision at the time of release, opinion has gradually grown to be in favour of such a decision.
As an avid film noir cinephile, I loved the presentation of the first two games, and their obvious tribute to classic films. However, I also adore neo-noir and this game represents that perfectly.
Max’s lines have never been better, with dozens of memorable quotes scattered throughout the entire story (even the bloody menu), and a great character arc in mind for our titular protagonist.
Also of importance is the brilliant use of language in story telling on display. The story allows for clues to be understood if you pay attention, but divert you elsewhere when you are as confused as Max is, whenever Portuguese is thrown at you. This allow you to piece together the truth alongside Max and draw you in further.
Guiding us along this blood-soaked, painkiller-filled journey is James McCaffrey’s brilliant acting. He gives it his all in this performance, expressing pain, rage and depression with ease and aplomb, his voice the perfect guide to Max’s angst, discovery and dry sardonic humour.
The plot itself is a constant delight, truly allowing us to explore all parts of Sao Paulo and even some limited scenes in New York. There is a deftness to the pace and plot of the story, that allows moments to breathe, to explore Max’s psyche and to really admire the work Rockstar put in to create such an immersive and realistic world.
This of course is punctuated by excellent level designs that allow you to keep moving, fluidly and quickly through scores of enemies and innovative use of quick time events, which actually work in a narrative sense, because bullet-time exists.
Then, there are the cutscenes. An incredible blend of neon, stylised short movies, sliced up to pay homage to the series’ comic-book strip format. In particular the way how certain phrases are highlighted the same way a speech bubble would.
Overall, the plot of Max Payne 3 is a worthy testament to classic neo-noir story-telling with brilliant use of language, a deeper exploration of Max and a conspiracy that unravels with precision.
There might not be any doves flying around, but this is still a John Woo moment.
Graphics
If you take a look at the future of Rockstar, post Max Payne 3 release, you would know there are some seriously gorgeous projects they’ve created. Grand Theft Auto V is shockingly good looking for a game released a year after. Red Dead Redemption 2 is essentially Rockstar proving it could make a Netflix series if it tried, from its’ cinematography, its’ story, its’ acting and its’ tackling of mature themes.
But what paved the way for RAGE (Rockstar Advanced Game Engine) true potential was Max Payne 3. Previously Red Dead Redemption was a step-up from Grand Theft Auto IV.
However Max Payne 3 truly allowed for a huge graphical increase. The textures, lighting and details in the story are almost so good, that you forget how good they are. No matter what it is, realistic bullet penetration or the tiny hairs on Max’s scalp, there is evident love to get things as authentic as possible.
No matter where you look, there is a photo-realism to the scale, behaviour and depiction of humans and the environments. Every level is insanely detailed, to the point you can’t help but wonder if Rockstar just grabbed a photo of a favela and turned it into a game level.
Of particular note is the lighting in the game. Sunset, darkness, morning, or afternoon, there is a particular way how RAGE’s dynamic weather conditions interact beautifully with the environments in Max Payne.
However some of the weapon models do lack certain details (rear sights and feeding mechanisms), and there are definite awkward movements in regard to Max himself, with clipping being somewhat of an issue.
Overall, the graphic fidelity of the game is astounding, still holding up well to today’s standards. A testament to RAGE’s power and the work Rockstar put in to create an authentic immersive experience.
16x the detail ….
Soundscape
A review or look back at Max Payne 3 would not be complete without a ode to HEALTH.
Easily one of the best and most innovative use of music in-game, HEALTH delivered an eerie and tragic atmosphere to the game. Less soundtrack and more soundscape, Max Payne 3’s score is ambience similar to Trent Reznor’s work in David Fincher movies.
It’s strange, unnerving and uncompromisingly experimental.
It’s not music, but something more primeval and rhythmic, a truly narrative driven sound that only a noise rock band like HEALTH could conjure through twisted machinations with different sounds. It is thought provoking, hard hitting and utterly in sync with Max’s story.
It hits the high, it slams the lows and pays very subtle tributes to Max’s theme throughout the gameplay.
Of course, the highlight of the game is the iconic Airport sequence, in which HEALTH’s Tearshits you with all the force of a perfectly timed music video. Everything is synced, from the visuals, the gunfire, the gameplay, the triumphant way Max is overcoming himself, the music itself and finally you, yourself, knowing that you’ve nearly beaten the game.
It’s an iconic gaming moment.
Imagine a club with HEALTH’s music.
Experience
Overall, playing Max Payne 3 is still a solid, fun experience.
The visceral, hard-hitting story coupled with the buttery smooth gun-play offers one of Rockstar’s best adaptation of third person shooting, that is arguably more nuanced and in-depth than its’ later releases.
The graphics still hold up, and continue to serve as a testament to RAGE’s ability to make anything seem photorealistic. And it will never be a bad thing, to re-explore HEALTH’s iconic soundtrack and listen to Max’s theme.
While I won’t cover the multiplayer, as it is currently has an empty population, the single player is definitely something I will recommend you pick up and enjoy.
Should you get it?
Yes.
~ Damocles.
How do you even quit a game when you read something like that?
Damocles' Journal 