Sunday, August 04, 2013

Fate works in mysterious but meaningful ways

A saying goes that you find treasure in the least likely of places, locations that didn't cross your mind, venues that didn't show the slightest hint of their hidden content. The same goes for people, the companions you hold most dear. They may come from myriad backgrounds, possess different qualifications and are composed of a kaleidoscope of personalities and characters, but at the end of the day, all of you are united by a single thinking - a hive mind, of sorts.

Finding someone who can tolerate your plethora of idiosyncratic nuances and habits is difficult enough, and seeking one that is similar to you in more than one way is almost tantamount to an act of God and the temptation of fate. I always had this thinking, that one fine day in my sorrowful future, someone whom I can click with - or in Pacific Rim parlance, drift with - will appear in the motion capture rig to my left, calibrating the left hemisphere before confirming the neural handshake in a samurai salute.

I don't have to fight my monsters alone anymore.

I will demonstrate my resolve and hope that yours will hold too, as we battle our demons together in the body of our giant machine.   

Feed the fish!

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

"If you want to beat them, you have to understand them"

After sitting through two awesome screenings of Pacific Rim, I found it easier to explain the circumstances surrounding my recent predicament, to shed some much-needed light on the matter and to finally nullify the Breach one and for all.

All of us have our own kaijus to fight. They can come in any form, any number, but one thing's certain: they are going to be big. 

To fight monsters, you have to create monsters.

Mine came in the form of gigantic mecha, the Jaeger Program.

Jaeger technology was shaky at first, and setback after setback caused me to rethink my strategy, to rethink everything. Then it dawned: I had to shed my current, childish skin and become a more matured individual, geared to the rigours of the real world in order to better fight these giant monsters. The upgrades were made, the unneeded parts were locked away, and the Jaeger was launched into battle.

For a time, we started winning. Battle after battle, kaijus fell to rocket punches, AKM missiles and plasmacasters. It seemed like the new upgrades were working, although the reactor whined as the turbines spun around the improved housing to promote bolstered output and efficiency. Danger turned to propaganda, monsters turned to toys. For a while, everything was good, peachy, under control. 

Then one day, everything changed.

The first Category 6 kaiju made landfall six months into the war and decimated an entire colony in less than an hour. Six hours later, the upgraded Jaeger still could not defeat the gigantic beast, a monster which had intimately learnt of all its combat moves, weapons and techniques. The kaiju was always two steps ahead of the Jaeger, and after 8 intense hours of battle, the Jaeger finally fell.

Desperately, I rebuilt the Jaeger, improved upon it and sent it out against the battered Category 6. It was finally brought down, but the another one came through the Breach only a few days later and decapitated the Jaeger. A replacement was fielded against the invader, and successfully repelled the attack, until a third Category 6 joined forces with the second one and obliterated the new Jaeger. When the fourth one came swimming through the Breach howling in its bloodcurdling treble, I realised this was not going to stop. I was losing Jaegers faster that I could replace them.

I could not win.

At the final Shatterdome in the heart of the capital, I made the decision to do one final push, the decisive, surgical strike to close the Breach once and for all. I looked at my options - there were not many. However, one part of the Shatterdome had remained locked and forgotten, until the key of desperation turned it open.

Outfitted with its original parts, the first Jaegar stomped into battle to face all of my kaijus, armed with seemingly obsolete weapons that would be effective against the giant beasts. However, the reactor hummed and pulsed with vigour and strength, completely at ease in its original housing and not whining to break free. 

The final battle. The last stand.

When the dust finally settled, nothing was left. Breach, kaiju, Jaeger: all were gone. The war was won, but at great cost. All that was left was the question: "Was it worth it?"

Pacific Rim references aside, I became someone I was not, someone I could never become in order to make that relationship work. I became a monster, became a machine modeled after some obscure, socially-accepted subroutine, in order to combat the kaijus that threatened my city for the better part of eight months. Perhaps I was blinded, too desperate for companionship that I dropped almost everything which constituted myself for her sake. Now I ask myself, "Was it worth it?"

To that I answer, "Does it matter anymore?."

Monday, May 20, 2013

The Vanguard

Visual representation courtesy of Frontier Trust.
The Vanguard fired a short pulse from his aft microverniers, causing his battered machine to drift lifelessly towards the planetoid, its robotic limbs reluctantly being pulled along by the forces of inertia. Devoid of motivation and drained of energy, the previous consecutive skirmishes had accumulated into a maelstrom of deadly conflict involving thousands of combatants from all sides. When the dust settled, only one machine remained.

The Vanguard, however, was not free from injury.

Saturday, May 18, 2013

The Way the Wheel Turns

As the tagline for the latest Fast & Furious movie goes, "All roads lead to this." 

I should have seen this coming, should have adequately prepared for it, should have taken all possible measures to safeguard myself. Yet, when the first kaiju made landfall, I was wholly devastated by its sheer enormity, its terrible roar, its deadly appendages tearing everything that I knew and held dear totally asunder. 

And it happened again. And again. And again.

When a gigantic Cloverfield-like creature festooned with alien shards  flattened the metropolis, that was when I finally learnt that this was never going to stop. 

I had to find a way to fight back.

They counted on me to hide, to give up; they never imagined that I would rise to the challenge.

To fight monsters, I had to create monsters of my own: mental fortitude, determination and a deliberate hardening of the heart melding together to create a fearsome, intricate machine. I sent it into battle and for a while, the machine and I were winning, it seemed to be working.

But then, everything changed.

The monsters evolved, shed off their battered shells and emerged all dark, ominous and shrouded by an impenetrable black cloud. I could not make out their features from the dense disruption, much less find any weak spots to commence an attack. I got pounded into submission, my machine taking beating after beating, suffering irreparable damage to 80 percent of its heavily-battered frame. 

Now, I am on the edge of my hope, at the end of my time.

To fight these renewed creatures, I have to understand them once again, understand the vermin that they were aiming to eradicate by attacking population centers, understand the motivation for such indiscriminate genocide. To do that, I have to withdraw into my Shatterdome, to redraw the plans of battle and create another bigger, deadlier machine to face the monsters that are at my door. 

I hope that I will be able to cancel the apocalypse.

Feed the fishes.