The Scary Game

 Last month I played an eclectic and quite frankly, intellectual sequence of games, including The Smurfs for the Nintendo 3DS. I was happy then. I was loving life. In the beautiful yet terrifying month of October, however, I have been playing one game only - The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time 3D.

Cutie alert!

 
Now, as you surely know, this is a game of great honour. Everyone loves the first 3D Zelda game, with all its woodsy spirit and chunky glory. And I can see why. Traversing Hyrule is delightful. I feel like a real tiny little forest boy, excited to slam each new skeleton with my cute little sword. Pumped up to smash another pot. Life is a dream. And there are things that feel impressive about the environment - the oscillating, rapid sunsets that make you feel even smaller, the wonderful and varied characters.

Let's not talk about 'The Bachelor' at this time.

There's something vivid about this Hyrule, especially when you accidentally sleep through seven years and awaken to find that you have a new, lanky man-body, and are in the haunted ruin of a once-bustling town.

People talk about how dark Majora's Mask is, but Ocarina has its own delicious sense of death. At one point, Ganon jumps out of paintings on a glowing ghost horse to attack you. He is demonic. I love him.

A genuine weirdo.

I very much enjoy the atmosphere, and the cute and goofy and severe characters you come across (in one area there are a thousand dogs who will follow you at night), but there is also something frustrating and impenetrable about the game. Its gameplay feels, at times, like trying to get blood from a stone. Yes, there are a few reminder systems that make it impossible to get completely lost on your next big goal (thank you Navi), but it's the small steps that tend to feel puzzling.

I didn't play this game as a kid, so I can't approach it from that determined perspective. Maybe if I had, I would feel differently about the obtuse piecing together of What To Do Next, but for me, it feels like an awfully stressful game. I've played with and without a guide, and in both cases I feel a kind of constant pressure. Ganon is getting to me. Where is the next golden skulltula?

Do I really have to get inside him? Really?

The step-by-step of it all feels unintuitive and unwieldy. There are lots of unpleasant tasks to deal with, like holding Princess Ruto over your head as you run through Jabu-Jabu's belly, desperately jumping in holes.

So true.

However, the beauty and tragedy of the world, the wonderfully designed, distinct dungeons, and the lively and quirky characters please me. I like them all so much.

Do not ever ask me to shoot all those rupees for the quiver upgrade though. I can't and won't do it. 

The Things Which Are Advertised To Me On Instagram

 There is an air of death to Instagram. A stench. The thing has a sort of growing emptiness fed by years of corporate re-shuffling, the kind of algorithm-tweaking that results in me seeing more autoplaying videos of undressing nineteen-year-olds than I ever would have wanted (desired number: zero), and the lingering feeling that you are walking at medium speed down an endless white corridor, getting further and further away from anyone you might be pleased to see.

Nevertheless, it's still a place full of fun, artsy, creative people, and a place where, more than anything, I will see interesting sketches and speedpaints, junk journal madness, and flatlays of bookish, lace-laden outfits. It's a place bursting with youthful, jubilant woman with Sanrio obsessions, and so I must, by law, remain there with them.

Because of this unstoppable demographic of sweet and strange women with an eye for lace trim and shiny silver hardware (in the handbag sense, not the computer sense), and because Instagram is one of the few platforms on which I am still forced to see ADVERTISEMENTS (Tumblr long ago gifted me their ad-free subscription because of my beauty and celebrity - thank you Tumblr), I am served a lot of promotional material on there for stuff I actually quite like. As an exercise in extreme and highly commendable self-control, I shall review these for you now instead of buying them.

 

ELFSACK

Now, these ads tend to be for clothes or bags, more often than not, and my favourites are always the small and sort of unique brands. Little companies with odd names that fit a kind of dreamy fantasy aesthetic. Like ELFSACK (always in all caps). They have a cool, distorted logo. They have some decidedly mori girl items (yes!!! Muddy greens! Geography teacher cardigans!). Their name is ELFSACK (a sack carried by an elf?)

I like their combo of decidedly weird, more flashy items (see: ultra-long Scrooge McDuck skirt), and their softer, more understated autumnal wear.

The beret they put this model in says it all. A few small steps away from Señorita Awesome, but with one boot firmly planted in the centre of a fairy ring.

 

PUPARI

This is a really cute one. Maybe the cutest thing I've ever seen an advertisement for. They really have me pinned down with this. A very pretty and cute jewellery company that make these fun, sweet little animals and body parts.

My favourite item of theirs is probably this little bunny with a pink pearl dangling from it, but I also love the ears and noses they have available. I especially love that the "nose ring" has its own nose ring. Wonderful. 

ONITSUKA TIGER

Finally, Onitsuka Tiger - the cool trainer brand.

While I'm not a huge fan of these boxing shoes (they're just too long for me), I think their classic tennis shoes are pretty cute. I like them in this green and cream colourway. I also enjoy the kinda strange-looking ballet flats. However, I have promised myself I will only wear slip-on shoes from now on. Laces are in my past. Slip-on or nothing.

This is a promise to my feet.

Skull & Serpent

 When I visit museums, I'm always excited to see groups of people sketching the artefacts. I always really want to join them, and then destroy them by doing the best and most crazed drawing. This is a competition, I think, and I could win. But usually, I'm with someone who needs to go fast (understandable - life is short, and our legs hurt quickly), and I probably don't have a big, beautiful, chunky sketchbook on hand either.

Fortunately, we are blessed with online catalogues of museum pieces that are both fascinating to look at, and enticing to draw.

One such wonder is the V&A's collections, in which I found an intriguing ivory figure of a child stepping on a skull and a snake. A tiny little goth.

Here he is.

The website speculates that this is "probably" a depiction of the Christ child - overcoming death (skull) and sin (snake). Other details are similarly murky. It was made in "France or possibly the Netherlands" somewhere in the estimated forty years between 1780 and 1820. This little boy is an enigma, and I really like him. 

He was the clear first choice for a sketch, and I love his serene little face, sort-of statesman-like, and the cartoonish, medieval look of that weird snake. Cute.