Hell Cell Motel

There are no good answers to what was going on in this room. 

Oxide Room 104 puts you in the role of Matt, who returns to a motel after some sort of crime, only to get ambushed by a weirdo and wake up naked in a tub. The bathroom door is locked, his name scrawled on it. 

So you have to find your clothes, and figure out how to unlock the door. Search the cabinet over the sink. Search the dresser. Search the toilet. Once you find your way out, you learn the door out of the room is locked. So are the windows (as far as I can tell, you don't need to bother with the windows. While the game will always let you check them, they never open.) The key is on a plate, a giant centipede coiled around it.

If you make it out of the room, you find yourself in the inner courtyard of the motel. And there's a strange woman whose face is shrouded by her ink-black hair! And she vanished, in her place some creature with a human's lower body, but the upper body is just a set of jaws.

At this point, what has been a sort of horror puzzle game, with you searching your (creepy) surroundings for items you need to escape the room, becomes a quick-time event, as you hit buttons when prompted to help Matt avoid other monsters. You make it to another room, and the item hunt/puzzle aspect resumes. That's what dominates the game. The quick-time stuff is sporadic, saved for when, I guess, the game designers decided they needed to shake you up a bit.

If you die, from blood loss or poisoning or stupidity - like firing a gun at a monster in a room filled with gas, whoops - you wake up shackled in a different tub, Orange Jumpsuit standing over you. He tells you what a useless idiot you are - in a profane and British voice that nonetheless has a breathy aspect that reminds me of the Abominable Snowman character from Looney Tunes - and cuts off one of your limbs with a saw. Then you wake up again in the tub where you started, all limbs present and accounted for, and start your attempt to escape from square 1.

You get up to 3 "deaths" before he decides you're not worth the hassle. Four if you find a picture of the girl, which somehow acts as an extra life. My impression is the subsequent attempts will take a different route, in terms of which rooms you visit and search. The puzzles may be simpler, but there are a lot more monsters, including roaming the courtyard. At least the game doesn't skimp on bullets for your handgun.

I don't entirely understand what's going on. Something about Orange Jumpsuit using Mysterious Girl's mind as sort of a computer in a bio-engineering experiment. A way to rifle through people's thoughts and memories? You find a lot of documents as you search the rooms, some signed as "Eva", some as "Evil", some as "Matt", and some as "Doc", which is Orange Jumpsuit. Those didn't really tell me much other than someone in here is suffering a break in their mind, darker impulses taking over. Whether Evil is Eva or Matt, I don't know. Maybe one, then the other? Some of Matt's writing you find later suggests his worst impulses are getting stronger, so maybe he's getting infected while he's here?

The game ends rather abruptly. You wake up in the tub where you usually lose limbs, but Doc's not there. You can see someone strapped in a chair under a tarp, but can't do anything to help. You stumble into the hall, and then Doc is chasing you as you try to reach an elevator. Apparently that turns out differently, depending on how many times you died, but none of the endings seem to tell you much. I gather there's a sequel, Oxide Room 208, which may be set concurrently with this game and tells another side of it, but I'm not buying it.

I got the "too many deaths" ending, and the "no deaths" ending. The latter at least gives you a fun option, once you make it to the elevator. Doc keeps futilely trying to reach through the gate, and the game lets you click a button like he's an object to interact with. Normally when you do that, the button options are things like "Examine", or "Inventory." This time, the only option was "Revenge." Well, you know I love me a good revenge opportunity, so at least the playthrough ended on a high note (even if there's a phone call between Doc and his benefactor afterwards where he states he doesn't think Matt will make it through the forest.)

Overdue Movie Reviews #10 - High Plains Drifter (1973)

A stranger (Clint Eastwood) rides into the town of Lago, and within a matter of minutes, guns down 3 men who were hassling him, and rapes a woman. Curiously, rather than insisting on his arrest, the leaders of the town send the sheriff to offer the stranger a job: protect Lago from 3 other men, about to be released from prison, who swore revenge.

The stranger agrees, for a price. The price turns out to be the townspeople's dignity and self-respect as much as anything. He takes, and takes, and takes, and they bear it, because the alternative is to fight for themselves, or to simply take the revenge they've got coming.

My dad would say this is definitely a '70s Western, and he'd say it in the most scornful tone possible. Basically everyone is an amoral scumbag, constant betrayals, backstabbing and abuse. Promises are made with no intention of honoring them. There's no loyalty to anyone or anything, all that unites the townsfolk is the idea they can always put off the point when payment will come due. Two rapes, because I'm hesitant to define what happens between the stranger and Sarah Belding (Verna Bloom) late in the film as anything other than that. He not only takes over her bedroom, but drags her along with him, then kisses her when she tries to stab him with scissors, and things progress from there. The movie certainly frames it as Mrs. Belding being into it once they got started (and does the same with the first as well), but I'm not really prepared to make that allowance.

There's no real good guy. Mordecai (Billy Curtis) isn't an awful person, but once he figures out the stranger at least tolerates him (or finds him a useful prop to humiliate the townsfolk), he milks it for all he's worth, just like the stranger. Sarah seems to have a conscience, but she has, as her conniving lickspittle of a husband points out, kept quiet about it for a long time. She wasn't happy, she could have left Lago and that useless bastard anytime. He wasn't going to abandon his precious hotel to chase her.

The closest thing to a good person would be the marshal, who we only see in flashback (sort of), because he got whipped to death in the street by Stacey Bridges and the Carlin brothers while the entire town looked on over a year before the movie begins.

I'm curious why they decided on whipping him. It wasn't to terrify the townspeople, the townspeople hired them to do the killing, so he wouldn't blow the whistle about the town mine being on government land. Why not just shoot him?

I guess because whipping is more brutal, and the movie wants to be brutal. Wants to provide a reason for the stranger to whip one of the Carlin brothers to death. Because otherwise, there's no real difference. Shot or whipped, the marshal died because he was going to insist on following the law, and that would have hurt the townspeople's economic status, so he had to go. And it allows for one of the two moments where Eastwood isn't scowling or smirking, when he first arrives in Lago and whips around at a whipcrack.

(The other moment is when the stranger, having ordered all other guests out of the hotel, hears the preacher promise they'll find shelter in the homes of the townspeople - at regular hotel rates, of course. Eastwood does this surprised jerk, almost a spasm, as though even he can't believe they sink that low.)

Of course there's the supernatural element, the stranger riding out of the heat waves coming off the desert, giving the impression he materialized from the air, then departing the same way at the end. The creepy intro music, I'm guessing that's a theremin, really helps establish an odd atmosphere, along with the first 5+ minutes of the film having no dialogue. Like we've entered a land of the dead.

There's also the stranger's ability to seemingly cover a lot of ground quickly and without notice.  His brief attack on Bridges and the Carlins in the rockpile, where he seems able to move from one side to the other within seconds, but also when the men attempt to ambush him in his hotel room. The time between when Callie slips from the room to when the men charge in couldn't have been more than a few seconds, yet he got out the window with all his clothes, and had a stick of dynamite ready. Also, when Callie first tried to kill him herself, she fired 4 shots into a little metal tub where he was submerged, and somehow didn't even scratch him. Which doesn't seem possible, but it's almost like once he went under the water, he was gone until he chose to stick his head back out.

It's a little like Charles Bronson's Harmonica character in Once Upon a Time in the West constantly appearing by stepping from behind something (a door, a pillar, a train.) Suggesting that in their quest for vengeance, they've transcended human capabilities somehow.

It's, I wouldn't say a happy end to the movie. The stranger leaves, satisfied his work is done. The marshal is going to have an actual grave marker. Seems strange they wouldn't have done that already, if just for appearances' sake. Sarah Belding is indeed, getting the fuck out of Lago. Not that there's much left of Lago. Most of the town was burned down by Bridges, what's left is painted bright red. A bunch of townspeople are dead, at either the stranger's hands or Bridges', the remainder look like war wounded, watching the stranger leave with shell-shocked expressions.

Back in 2009, I wrote a post wondering if the stranger spent all that time prepping the townspeople to defend their town because he wanted to give them the chance to clean up their own mess for once, or if he knew they never had a chance and just wanted to humiliate them a little more. It's hard for me to picture him being satisfied with Bridges dying at their hands, so I suspect it was one more prank he pulled. There's never any indication the practice is having an effect; their aim is no better, they're still counting on him to take care of business. They're just going along with this because he insisted and they want to keep him happy and willing to solve their problems.

This isn't the kind of film where people confront their fears and triumph, it's one where they keep running until their fears trample them into the dirt.

Honeymoon Headache

If it was that easy to make Harley be quiet, everyone would try being smelly. 

Starting immediately after the end of the second season of the animated series, Harley Quinn: The Eat. Bang! Kill. Tour is Harley and Ivy celebrating their honeymoon - although they didn't really get married so much as just drove off together - by crashing in other villains' houses on short (or no) notice, while trying to outrun an increasingly deranged and pathetic Commissioner Gordon.

While writer Tee Franklin throws in plenty of public (and private) displays of affection between Harley and Ivy, things get increasingly rocky as the mini-series progresses. Ivy's having a variety of doubts, from the pain she caused her fiance Kite Man by messing around with Harley behind his back, plus some childhood trauma from her father telling her no one would ever love her. There's also the part where she realizes a relationship with Harley is never going to have much in the way of peace or tranquility.

All the guilt and self-doubt and whatnot results in her repeatedly snapping at Harley, only to get cuddly and apologetic moments later. In Ivy's defense, Harley does repeatedly do shit that's pretty rude or flat out stupid. When they decide to leave town, Harley suggests leaving her hyenas with Catwoman. Does she call Selina ahead of time to check if this is OK? Well, if you count texting as they get out of their car in front of Selina's building, then sure. Harley suggests they crash in the home of a villainess who got arrested at Ivy's wedding-that-wasn't, again without asking for permission. There's just a real lack of impulse control or consideration for anyone other than Ivy.

In Harley's defense, Ivy should have known about these tendencies long before now and possibly taken them into consideration before making major life decisions, but the heart wants what it blah blah blah.

By the back half of the mini-series, they've reached Detroit and run afoul of part of a Justice League (Vixen, and to lesser extents Cyborg and Zatanna), and some sludge-villain called Mephitic. Harley gets captured, Ivy has to try and deal with her own shit so she can rescue her girl.

Max Sarin draws 5 of the 6 issues (issue 4 is drawn by Erich Owen) with Marissa Louise as color artist throughout. Sarin gets to draw a lot more fight scenes than they did on Giant Days, and they handle Harley's acrobatic flips and bat swinging very well. And their art is perfect for the roller-coaster of emotions the characters are going through. In particular, I love how Sarin has the plant life around Ivy react to her emotional state. And with Mephitic's power being essentially stench-based, Sarin and Louise combine to give the smell a physical weight to it. The color is nausea-inducing, and the little flourishes as it jabs its way into Harley's nostrils really add to the toxicity.

I wonder why Franklin chose Mephitic as the main villain of the mini-series - unless you figure it's Gordon, or Ivy's issues - unless it was because he provides the opportunity to make all kinds of cracks about how bad he smells. 

Sunday Splash Page #418

"Multiplication Problem," in Power Up, by Doug Tennapel (writer/artist), Jennifer Barker (letterer)

Hugh works at a copy shop with his buddy Doyle. They have an idea for a video game, Earth Dog Jim, but Hugh can never work up the nerve to submit it to a game company. So he keeps working at the copy place, dealing with a boss who promotes him, then gives him the job of firing Old Man Wembly so they won't have to pay his retirement.

Hugh finds an old video game that, when you press a button hidden in the controller, sends the power-ups out of the screen and into the real world. So many problems solved! Gold coins to make him rich. An invisibility power-up to make to make the boss think Old Man Wembly got fired (doesn't that mean he's not getting paid?) Extra lives that provide extra Hughs to take care of other tasks around the house.

Obviously, this all backfires, as the pursuit of happiness through material wealth is always shown to do. (I would at least like the opportunity to see if purchasing my own island can fill the yawning hole in my heart.) Old Man Wembly eventually reappears, Hugh's attempt to help his son in paintball instead gets the kid banned, his wife doesn't like this fixation on stuff. Oh yeah, and their cat hits the special button when the final boss is on the screen, and Hugh ends up in a battle for his life with a scowling guy with horns and a cloak, who Tennapel drenches in black ink, with just a little bit of white around the joints and eyes for contrast.

That's one of Tennapel's recurring themes, that you can't live your life retreating into fantasy. You have to interact with real people and pursue dreams and stuff like that. Although he illustrates the pitfalls at the very end, as Hugh and Doyle present their game to the CEO of "Electronic Artisans," who replies to Doyle's comment about this being paradise with, 'If it was paradise, I wouldn't make you sign all the rights over to me in a rapacious, one-sided agreement.' Well, then.

Despite some of the fantastic elements, Tennapel keeps his art grounded. It's still his distinctive style, but the characters mostly look like regular people going about their days, and the power-ups are low-key. Old Man Wembly just vanishes and goes about his work, and we aren't updated on him until it wears off and he reappears. The extra Hughs look just like original Hugh, save a number on their shirt and an off switch under their chest that makes them vanish.

The running battle with "Lord Doomus" is a little different, as Hugh's trying to escape in his new muscle car, given the ability to leave a Tron-style wall behind it via power-up, and Doomus can shoot missiles out of his chest. But Hugh's still just a guy. He's no ace driver, and he drops most of his power-ups during the fight, leaving him with only one option.

Saturday Splash Page #220

"First Light," in The Ray (vol. 1) #1, by Jack C. Harris (writer), Joe Quesada (penciler), Art Nichols (inker), John Cebollero (colorist), Stevie Hayne (letterer)

In 1992, Jack C. Harris and Joe Quesada introduced a new version of the Golden Age hero, The Ray, via 6-issue mini-series. The character, creatively named Ray Terrill, was the son of the original, but didn't have any idea about that, or his father's past until his father, well, passed.

The first issue I owned was #3, purchased off a spinner rack in a bookstore in a mall. I still can't recall what made me want to buy it; I'd never heard of the character. The cover is probably the least dynamic or eye-catching of the mini-series. But I did buy it, and Ray saving a village from a volcano - plus how cool Quesada, Nichols and Cebollero made his "powered-up" form look - apparently sold me. It took time, but I eventually tracked the rest of the mini-series down.

I discussed this in my Favorite Characters post on The Ray, but in addition to the usual "superpowers as a metaphor for puberty or adolescence," Jack C. Harris is focused on another theme of growing up: "lies my parents told me." Sure there are parts where Ray struggles to control his powers. He tries to chase bank robbers, but goes so fast he lands in front of them without realizing it and gets hit by the van. Also, he burns off his pants in the process. He saves the village by flying into the volcano then carving a tunnel underground into the sea, only to surface and remember he never learned how to swim.

But isn't just superpowers he gains, it's the knowledge so much was held back from him. He spent his entire life up to that point believing the sun would kill him. He was "Night Boy," living indoors, with nothing more than candlelight. His one childhood friend, Jenny, gets hauled away by her mother at his 8th birthday, when a camera flash triggers a reaction in Ray. He learns the truth as his father dies, so there's not even anyone to demand answers from, or to rage at, save his cousin Hank, who shows up at the funeral (and who Quesada draws as basically the Fonz.)

The lies keep coming. The man who died was Ray's uncle. His father shows up and turns out to be the original Ray, but he's a ghost who needs Ray's help, yet keeps running away rather than explaining what he needs help with. Also, he's not actually dead. There's a weirdo with a candle fetish in a mental hospital monitoring Ray through light or flame, because there's something Ray needs to handle, and he ropes Jenny into helping push Ray where he wants him to go. Ray's finally able to go out in the light, but he's still in the dark.

The manipulation gets to the point that, when Dr. Polaris attacks Ray, he thinks this is another kooky test his father lined up. It takes nearly being crushed to death underground to clue him in Polaris really is trying to kill him, but he still thinks Ray Classic set it up.

For all my issues with Quesada as an Editor-in-Chief, as an artist, he's got a distinct style. Ray's eventual costume is a little goofy - the ankle boots and the yellow-on-white pants aren't something I particularly love - but the powered-up form looks great. He shifts to mostly black, with only the yellow highlights on the jacket and gloves for contrast. Where they depict Ray Classic in flight as an upper body with a yellow trail, Ray is a dark form surrounded by a rectangular yellow field with a dark edge, like he flies so fast he cuts the sky.

To this day, I don't really understand the "Light Entity," the threat Ray's meant to confront. There's a whole thing about some wacky scientist in the '30s believing the Light Entity was created with the Earth, and it'll return some day, and that's bad, and they need someone born of the light to communicate. So Ray Classic getting powers was the scientist trying to set that up, because the powers would be passed along to his kid? Ray and the Entity mingle, it's trying to get him to lead it home, but Ray 'shuts the door.' 

I think it's supposed to dovetail with the fact, throughout the mini-series, Ray keeps retreating to his childhood home, even as the family lawyer is selling it and finding him a new apartment. The Entity tries to guide Ray by showing him a vision of the home, and Ray rejects it, shutting the door on that part of his past as well? It's the weakest part of the mini-series, which is kind of a bummer, since it occupies the entire final issue.

What I Bought 3/4/2026 - Part 2

It's the annual big book sale for the regional library this weekend. I plan to hit it today with my dad, even if, as my mother says, bringing him is like taking an alcoholic to a brewery. Hopefully, this means lots of book reviews in the near future!

Moonstar #1, by Ashley Allen (writer), Eduardo Audino (artist), Arthur Hesli (color artist), Clayton Cowles (letterer) - I've never thought to ask, what is Dani's belt made out of, with all those big ovals? Are they glass, polished turquoise, something else entirely?

So there's a dwarf-forged sword, cursed with a valkyrie's desire to keep fighting and a host that made some sort of deal with it. A group Moonstar was working with were responsible for keeping the pair under lock and key, but Moonstar and Magik took the group down, and everybody's forgotten about Asgard (and apparently the other seven realms besides), so the sword and its host are on the loose.

Two members of the group show up, wanting Dani's help finding the sword, because whoever is using it is killing larger and larger numbers of people. Dani knows Norse mythology - as they don't accept she was a Valkyrie, since they've forgotten such things existed - and they figure it was her actions that let the sword escape, so she can help clean up the mess.

They find the guy, Kyron, doing some sort of ritual that's going to collect an entire city worth of dead souls. Or just souls? I'm unclear if he only collected the souls of those already dead, or everyone's souls, living or dead. The attempt to stop him fails, one of Dani's allies sacrifices herself to give them time to escape, but the ritual wasn't enough for whatever Kyron and the sword are after - an end, apparently, to avoid nothingness - so he'll need something bigger.

Allen writes Dani as someone who wants to help, whether that's mutantkind in general - she apparently joined this Society of the Eternal Dawn thinking she could help protect mutants' future - or a person specifically - a comatose child, a friend. But she also tends to take the most optimistic view of how things will work out, and this perhaps causes her to rush into things without weighing consequences. So when things go wrong, she beats herself up and bleeds (metaphorically) for the people who she feels she failed.

I think the idea driving the conflict is going to be Kyron suffered losses at some point that made him decide it was better to simply not suffer, but there was still enough kindness and empathy in him the sword convinced him that really, it would be better to grant everyone that same gift, of no longer losing anyone. And if Dani's attempts to stop him keep failing, her doubts about her judgment will grow, and there'll be a moment where she may be ready to stop losing.

Audino makes Dani look really young. The fact she seems significantly smaller than everyone doesn't help with that. Maybe that's always been the case. Kyron's design isn't bad; the tattoos on the sides of his skull that curve onto his cheekbones help draw attention towards the eyes, which Helsi makes an attention-grabbing gold-yellow pupils surrounded by red. Action scenes are, OK. Not sure how Kyron went from winding up for a full, two-handed swing to simply bopping Dani on the forehead with the pommel. I'm curious to see if the red coloration begins to cover more of Dainself as more lives are taken into the sword, like a warning it's hitting critical mass.

Hide - Kiersten White

Mack was the lone survivor of a tragedy when she was very young, one she only survived by being very good hiding. And since then, she's done her best to stay hidden, unnoticed, drifting through the cracks of life. Maintaining as much distance from everyone else as she can manage.

But that sort of life tends to leave limited opportunities for employment, so Mack isn't left with many other options when she gets an offer to join in a contest sponsored by a sports equipment company. Spend a week in a long-shuttered amusement park with 13 other contestants, where the goal every day is to hide. Last one to be found wins 50 grand. Who is doing the seeking, isn't exactly explained.

Would it surprise you to learn that the people putting the contest on have nefarious motives? That the amusement park - which seems deliberately designed to be as difficult to navigate as possible - has a dark secret, a terrible horror lurking at its heart? No? Well aren't you special. Why don't you pat yourself on the back some more. Careful not to tear your rotator cuff doing it.

One nice thing, the book includes a map of the park on both the inside cover and the facing page, front and back. Not only so you get a sense of just what a boondoggle it would be finding your way in there, but also so you can kind of figure out who hides where.

White spends maybe the first 20% of the book on the run-up to the start of the game. Most of that focuses on Mack, specifically her circumstances and how she got cornered into this. But she doesn't ignore the other characters, and takes different opportunities to delve into their backstories, their psychology, why they're here. For example, all the contestants are offered a spa day ahead of time, and White describes how each of the women approach the pool, where they sit, what they're thinking about, whether that's what they'll do with the money, or how they hope to impress these people and get an actual job, and so on.

That continues into the actual game, where the book will flit about from one character to the next, letting us see their thoughts about where they're going to hide, or how annoying they find it to hide in one place for hours (the battle between needing to pee and not wanting to reveal their location comes up a lot.) It's enough that even for the ones the audience probably finds unlikable, you can at least understand the desperation that brought them this far.

And spreading the focus around at least adds some mystery to who's going to make it. Mack is certainly more focused on some characters than others, but she's also got enough survivor's guilt that you aren't sure she's secure, or that, just because she doesn't pay much mind to the guy with the notebook or the "other" Ava that those people are necessarily cooked.

It's pretty tense and I wasn't sure how things were going to be resolved. I could see them marching into the lion's den for a final confrontation, or just getting out and running as far as they could. There are some journals floating around with entries I thought might provide clues to how to end things. Whether anyone was going to find them that knew what to do was another matter. Either outcome seemed possible, depending on who was left to make the decision.

I do think the very last line was a mistake, like White was trying too hard to end on a cool moment and instead it just kind of hung there. Maybe it was meant to symbolize a new path for that character, being more vocal about their feelings, but I thought a disinterested shrug might have worked just as well. Especially considering it's directed at someone that works themselves into knots justifying their selfish actions as actually being for everyone's benefit, complete with big speeches and accusations that, actually, it's all of you refusing to die that are the selfish ones. Giving that the barest minimum of response feels like it would have been a great rebuttal, but oh well. 

'The floor is black marble, so polished they can see themselves in it. The walls and the furniture are pristine white. The kind of white that screams Don't touch me to people like Mack. The kind of white that purrs You deserve me to people like Rebecca.'