For Those Who Think Young (S2x01)

Airdate: 27 July 2008

Written by: Matthew Weiner Directed by: Tim Hunter

Running Time: 48 minutes

As Mad Men embarks upon its second season, it remains steadfast in a narrative pace that many contemporary viewers—accustomed to the relentless momentum of modern television—would describe as glacial. Yet this deliberate tempo is not a flaw but a deliberate aesthetic, one that the series compensates for with a bold structural gambit: leaping forward fifteen months. Where Season 1 meticulously dissected the world of 1960, Season 2 opens in February 1962, a decision that immediately heightens the sense of a society on the cusp. This temporal jump is not merely a convenient reset; it is the episode’s first and most profound statement about change, a theme that permeates every scene of For Those Who Think Young.

Matthew Weiner’s script precisely anchors the episode in history by establishing the date as 14 February 1962. The Valentine’s Day setting is more than a backdrop for failed romantic gestures; it is woven into the fabric of the episode through the ubiquitous cultural event of Jacqueline Kennedy’s televised tour of the White House. As the characters gather to watch, the First Lady’s curated vision of youthful, modern elegance becomes a national mirror, reflecting the very aspirations and anxieties the episode explores. The tour serves as a shared experience, a real-time historical anchor that contrasts sharply with the private disillusionments unfolding in the characters’ lives. This juxtaposition is classic Mad Men: public optimism versus private despair, with the medium of television itself acting as a reluctant herald of a new era.

The central motif, as the title declares, is youth—or more accurately, its perceived loss and the desperate desire to reclaim it. For Don Draper, this is triggered not by a spiritual epiphany but by a brutally mundane insurance-mandated physical. The doctor’s verdict that he must start taking care of himself because, at 36, “this is it” lands with the force of a death sentence. Don’s subsequent attempt at a grand Valentine’s getaway with Betty at the Hotel Savoy ends not in rekindled passion but in impotence and retreat, the couple silently watching Jackie Kennedy’s tour instead of making their own history. This sequence masterfully ties the personal to the cultural: Don’s confrontation with his own mortality and fading virility is set against a national celebration of renewal and style. His youth is something he suddenly realises he no longer possesses, and the episode posits that this realisation is the true beginning of his mid-life crisis.

This preoccupation with youth is not confined to the personal sphere; it is the paramount business challenge at Sterling Cooper. The firm’s struggle to connect with a younger market is articulated with palpable frustration by Duck Phillips, who sees the agency’s inability to sell coffee—a client’s product—as symptomatic of a generational disconnect. His solution is to hire younger creative talent, a move that leads to the brilliantly awkward interview scene where two confident, casually dressed young men unsettle the established order. Simultaneously, Peggy and Salvatore’s campaign for Mohawk Airlines, initially conceived around a titillating, sex-based idea, is shot down by Don in favour of something more family-friendly. This conflict encapsulates the agency’s dilemma: how to harness the energy and sexuality of the emerging youth culture without alienating the traditional, conservative consumer base. The episode suggests there is no easy answer, only the uneasy tension of a world in transition.

The physical manifestation of this brave new world arrives not in the form of hulking Xerox machine. Its placement becomes a minor crisis for Joan, who must find a permanent home for this disruptive marvel. The scene is a superb piece of visual metaphor: the machine represents efficiency, replication, and the future, yet it is an unwieldy, space-invading problem in the meticulously ordered old world of the office. It is change itself, literally dropped onto the floor and demanding accommodation.

Economically, the episode sketches the alterations in the characters’ lives over the missing fifteen months. Peggy has lost weight and carries herself with new authority, though the office rumour mill cruelly speculates that her “three-month sabbatical” was for bearing Don’s child—a vicious lie that highlights the persistent sexism she must navigate. Harry Crane is reconciled with his wife and is having children, embracing a conventional domesticity that others find elusive. Pete and Trudy’s anguish over their childlessness contrasts sharply with this, their frustration bubbling into marital tension. Salvatore Romano, in perhaps the most poignant update, has entered a marriage of convenience with Kitty, actively constructing a heterosexual façade to survive. Joan, meanwhile, has moved on from Roger, announcing she is dating a doctor—a declaration of independence that masks a continued search for security. These updates are delivered not through exposition but through behaviour and allusion, a testament to the show’s nuanced storytelling.

Betty Draper’s arc in this episode is a quiet study in awakening agency and sexuality. Her riding lessons introduce her to Arthur Case (Gabriel Mann), whose younger, admiring gaze offers a thrilling alternative to Don’s neglect. The chance encounter with her old roommate Juanita (Jennifer Siebel), whom she deduces is a call girl, exposes her to a world of transactional female power. Later, when her car breaks down, she instinctively deploys a flirtatious performance for the mechanic to lower the repair bill. Betty is learning, however tentatively, to use her beauty as a currency and to see beyond the gilded cage of suburban motherhood. Her story runs parallel to Don’s, both exploring avenues of escape from the roles they are trapped in.

Artistically, the episode is notable for its evocative use of Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Song of the Indian Guest.” Its exotic, melancholic strains accompany Don’s scenes of alienation, particularly the failed hotel tryst, lending a sense of doomed romanticism and distant yearning that dialogue alone could not convey. More significantly, the episode introduces Frank O’Hara’s 1957 poetry collection Meditations in an Emergency. Don discovers it in the hands of a beatnik in a diner—a figure representing the very anti-establishment youth culture that baffles Sterling Cooper. Told he “wouldn’t like it,” Don’s instinct is to acquire and read it. This moment is critical: it shows Don, however awkwardly, reaching outside his own world to understand the new cultural currents. The book is not just a prop; it becomes a recurring symbol of existential angst and the search for meaning that will haunt Don throughout the season.

For Those Who Think Young is a masterful season premiere that uses its deliberate pace to layer theme upon theme. By jumping to 1962, it instantly immerses us in a period where the future is visibly pressing against the present. The episode functions as a series of case studies in adaptation—and maladaptation—to a world that increasingly worships youth. Don Draper’s personal crisis of ageing mirrors his agency’s professional crisis of relevance, while the supporting characters each grapple with their own forms of societal change. It is a piece of television less concerned with plot propulsion than with psychological and social portraiture, establishing the season’s central concern: what happens when the world starts moving faster than the people in it? The answer, as this episode suggests, is a profound and deeply unsettling dissonance.

RATING: 6/10 (++)

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Schisms (S06E05)

Airdate: 19 October 1992

Written by: Brannon Braga Directed by: Robert Wiemer

Running Time: 46 minutes

Star Trek, and The Next Generation within it, has always belonged squarely to the science fiction genre. Yet, audiences could be forgiven for occasionally forgetting that fact when confronted with episodes built around nostalgic fan service, melodramatic intrigue, or heavy-handed commentary on the social, political, and cultural issues of the day. From time to time, however, TNG would decisively return to its “pure” genre roots, delivering a standalone ‘Monster of the Week’ episode constructed from simple, potent ideas and classic genre tropes. Schisms, the fifth episode of the sixth season, is precisely such an instalment. It successfully transplants the very 20th-century concept of alien abduction into the 24th century, delivering an interesting and effective combination of science fiction, psychological horror, and mystery.

The episode is set within the Armagosa Diaspora, a remote sector of space which the USS Enterprise-D is tasked with charting. To facilitate this mission, Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge has developed a new suite of specialised sensors. This setting immediately establishes an atmosphere of isolation and unknown frontiers, the perfect backdrop for the inexplicable events to come. The plot begins with Commander William Riker suffering from acute insomnia, memory lapses, and a strangely visceral aversion to mundane objects. He gradually realises he is not alone; other crew members are experiencing similar symptoms of fatigue and disorientation. After consulting Counsellor Deanna Troi, she organises a holodeck session—a now-famous sequence—where the affected officers slowly, and with palpable dread, reconstruct their shared, deeply suppressed memories. They piece together the horrifying experience of being interrogated and subjected to brutal physical experimentation on cold, metallic operating tables by eerily silent, insectoid aliens.

The reality of these abductions is gruesomely confirmed by Dr. Beverly Crusher, who discovers that Riker’s arm has been surgically severed and reattached, apparently during one of these nocturnal violations. The stakes are raised when it is revealed two crewmen are missing. One of them, Edward Hagler (Tyce Bune), returns to the ship only to die a horrific death as his blood has been transformed into a liquid polymer. The episode thus pivots from a psychological mystery to a race against time. The clue to the aliens’ method lies in a unique particle emission that creates a microscopic subspace rift in one of the cargo bays. Riker volunteers to act as bait, using a sedative to allow himself to be taken. In the tense climax, he awakens on the alien operating table. As La Forge and Data forcibly generate a small rift of their own, Riker makes a desperate leap, pulling himself and the newly abducted Ensign Sariel Rager (Lanei Chapman) back to the Enterprise. The episode concludes with the senior staff discussing the aliens’ inscrutable motives, which remain forever unknown.

Written by Brannon Braga, who would become one of Star Trek’s most significant creative figures, Schisms takes a relatively simple, almost urban-legend premise and plays it as a straightforward sci-fi mystery. Its genius lies in its slow, deliberate pacing. The first half is a masterclass in building unease, taking its time to allow both characters and audience to discover the terrifying truth. Director Robert Wiemer expertly cultivates this atmosphere, rendering the Enterprise’s familiar corridors strangely menacing and imbuing the holodeck reconstruction sequence with a surreal, dissociative quality that is profoundly disturbing. The final act, while action-oriented, maintains this eerie tone, and the episode’s unconventional ending—leaving the aliens’ identity and ultimate purpose a mystery—is a bold and effective choice that lingers in the mind far longer than a conventional showdown would.

However, for all its atmospheric strengths, Schisms is often considered, at best, a run-of-the-mill entry by dedicated Trekkies. The criticism holds some weight. While technically solid, well-acted, and competently directed, the episode suffers from a certain narrative looseness. The subplot featuring Data’s comedic recital of “Ode to Spot”—a poem dedicated to his cat—is a prime example. While the initial sight of the android earnestly engaging in poetic creation is mildly amusing, the scene’s length and placement amidst the growing horror feel like a jarring, unnecessary distraction. It disrupts the carefully built tension and highlights a lack of cohesive focus, as if the writers felt compelled to insert a moment of levity but chose the wrong tone and timing.

Schisms is a compelling, if flawed, example of The Next Generation indulging in pure genre storytelling. It is a successful transplant of terrestrial nightmare into the cosmos, executed with a chilling atmosphere and a commendable willingness to embrace ambiguity. Its failures are largely those of pacing and tonal consistency, not of concept or execution. For viewers seeking a slice of sci-fi horror within the TNG canon, it remains a strikingly effective and memorable episode, proving that sometimes the simplest ideas—the fear of the dark, the vulnerability of sleep, the unknown hand that touches us in the night—are the most powerfully universal, even amongst the stars.

RATING: 6/10 (++)

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Today, little in the world is certain. Almost everything can be doubted, except that the Marvel Cinematic Universe enjoys the status of the most successful series in film history. It also seems certain that it will remain in that position for a long time. In the coming years and decades something truly special must happen for someone to take away that prestigious position from this saga. The Marvel Cinematic Universe does not owe this to the billions of dollars invested in budgets, special effects and aggressive propaganda campaigns. Instead, its success can be explained first and foremost by the – at the time bold, but today fairly simple and easily explainable – vision of producer Kevin Feige, who built the saga of Marvel heroes on the basis of seemingly unconnected films about individual superheroes that gradually became part of a tightly rounded whole. This roundedness could also be seen in the fact that the saga had a clear beginning, middle and end. The latter was the task of the creators of Avengers: Endgame, a 2019 film that was tasked with doing what the final parts of the original Star Wars trilogy and The Lord of the Rings had successfully done in their time.

The film's plot begins shortly after the cosmic warlord Thanos (Josh Brolin) succeeded, despite all the efforts of the superhero group the Avengers, in getting his hands on the Infinity Stones and using them to carry out his genocidal plan to wipe out half of all living beings in the universe. Half of the Avengers also perished in the process, and they need time, with the help of Carol Danvers a.k.a. Captain Marvel (Brie Larson), who did not take part in the confrontation with Thanos, to regroup and once again launch a desperate attempt to wrest the Stones from Thanos's hands. That endeavour ends in a huge fiasco, after which they can no longer deny that they have suffered a final defeat and that all their comrades and half of all the people they knew have vanished forever. Years pass, and some of them try to adapt to the new, dark and depressing world, while others indulge in self-pity and drink. One of the few superheroes who escaped the catastrophe is Scott Lang, alias Ant-Man (Paul Rudd), who at the time of the fateful clash with Thanos was stuck in the Quantum Realm, from which, after five years, he manages to extricate himself and return to the real world. Convinced that he has found a way to travel through time, he suggests to the remaining Avengers that they all use it to get hold of the Stones in the past and use them to undo Thanos's genocide. Although some of them are initially sceptical, the Avengers eventually reassemble and devise an extremely complex plan involving missions into the past during which they will have to face not only Thanos but also older versions of themselves.

Endgame, as the name itself suggests, represents the final conclusion of the saga that began in 2008 with Iron Man, and this will not be greatly affected by its formal continuation in the form of the film Spider-Man: Far From Home, which can only conditionally be said to belong to the Marvel Cinematic Universe, nor by the COVID-19-delayed shoots and premieres of films from the so-called Phase Four. Endgame, which concluded Phase Three, represents the culmination – putting a full stop on everything that had been shown in the preceding eleven years. In doing so, screenwriters Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely faced an extremely difficult task – the grand finale had to surpass, or provide a climax for, content that was characterised by spectacularity and epic breadth, and that to a far greater degree than Star Wars and The Lord of the Rings, and even the Harry Potter saga, which, unlike the thematically and stylistically heterogeneous Marvel corpus, was anchored to a single literary source. An even more important task lay before brothers Joe and Anthony Russo, who had to surpass themselves, in other words, Infinity War, which before that had been the most spectacular and most successful film in history. That film owes a large part of its status not only to the hundreds of millions of dollars invested, but also to its willingness to break certain unwritten rules, which was most evident at the very end, when viewers are served one of the most shocking and darkest cliffhangers in history. The Russo brothers not only had to find some original way to resolve that cliffhanger and offer viewers a more or less convincing story, but they also had to provide "fan service", i.e., weave into Endgame a small army of characters, each of whom had to have a more or less important role in the grand finale, but in a way that was at least somewhat convincing.

In the end, that task was successfully completed. This was significantly helped by the decision to extend the film's running time to three hours, instead of the 130–140 minutes that average Hollywood blockbusters run today. This is justified not only by the epic nature of the content, but also gives the authors the manoeuvring space to divide Endgame into several different sections with different overall tones. Thus, at the very beginning, viewers – many of whom were still in shock a year later from the cosmic cataclysm with which Infinity War ends – are reminded of the consequences, through a doomed attempt by the Avengers to turn the game around, which ends with another, perhaps even more traumatic shock. On the other hand, it is clear to viewers that the film cannot end there and that things must eventually return to the Hollywood norm in which Good triumphs over Evil. The way this is done – through time travel – at first glance does not seem the most original, i.e., one can notice a strong inspiration from Back to the Future Part II and the final episode of the TV series Star Trek: Voyager, with which this film, coincidentally or not, shares a title. On the other hand, the second part, in which the "mighty gang" reassembles and prepares for a desperate attempt to undo Thanos's genocide, is an opportunity to bring lighter tones and even some humour back into the film for a moment. This becomes even more pronounced when the mission gets under way and the protagonists begin travelling to the time-space coordinates of events depicted in The Avengers and Guardians of the Galaxy. Not only do these scenes provide an opportunity for self-deprecating humour, but they also remind viewers of the most memorable moments of the entire saga. They are not only skilfully reconstructed, but also integrated into the new plot. In all of this, not only the extraordinary power of special effects is demonstrated, but also how much they have advanced in eleven years, so the Russo brothers today can afford a scene set in the distant year 1970, where a digitally de-aged Michael Douglas appears in the role of Dr Hank Pym.

The power of modern special effects technology can also be seen in the final battle scene, whose impact, however, is undermined by the predictability of its outcome. The screenwriters and the Russo brothers were aware of this, so they made sure that the Avengers, although ultimately successful in their rematch with Thanos, end up losing one of their key members. That outcome, on the other hand, was less shocking than similar events at the end of Infinity War, given that it could be predicted both from the content of some earlier scenes and from the evident fatigue of one of the key members of the cast. The epilogue, in which pathos and nostalgia are skilfully blended for the purpose of saying goodbye to the loyal audience, is, on the other hand, compromised by elements that hint that there might yet be some new sequels, i.e., by the effort to give one of the characters the maximum happy ending even at the cost of retroactively complicating the plot of all the previous films.

Despite that, Endgame – whose finality was for a time cemented by the COVID-19 crisis and the tragic death of Chadwick Boseman, who played the character T'Challa, aka Black Panther – is a film that can be said to have rounded off the most successful film series of the 21st century in the best possible way.

RATING: 8/10 (+++)

(Note: The text in the original Croatian version is available here.)

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Mhysa (S03E10)

Airdate: 9 June 2013

Written by: David Benioff & D. B. Weiss Directed by: David Nutter

Running Time: 63 minutes

The seismic shock of The Rains of Castamere represented not merely a narrative high point for Game of Thrones, but the dramatic zenith of television in the early 21st century. The Red Wedding was a meticulously engineered catastrophe that redefined what epic fantasy could do on screen, blending Shakespearean tragedy with visceral horror. This created an almost insurmountable problem for the series: having peaked so early, any attempt to match or build from that moment was far more likely to initiate a gradual descent into diminishing returns than to scale new heights. The difficulty of this post-traumatic landscape was demonstrated almost immediately in Season 3’s finale, Mhysa. Tasked with providing new cliffhangers and propelling the story forward, the episode instead largely functions as prosaic filler—a necessary, yet artificial, prolongation of a narrative that, in more ruthless hands, could have been considerably shorter.

The episode is fundamentally concerned with the immediate, grisly aftermath. We witness the consequences through the eyes of Arya Stark and Sandor Clegane, a perspective that underscores the episode’s thematic distance from the preceding horror. They observe the Frey butchers burning Northern men alive and the macabre, drunken spectacle of Robb Stark’s desecrated corpse—a direwolf’s head crudely affixed—being paraded in triumph. This is powerful imagery, yet it feels like a postscript to an event we did not see firsthand; the emotional capital has already been spent. Inside the Twins, the political calculus is coldly settled. Roose Bolton’s elevation to Warden of the North and Walder Frey’s acquisition of the Riverlands formalise the new order born from treachery. Arya’s response—a swift, brutal murder of a boasting Frey soldier—provides a cathartic dose of vengeance, but it is a small, personal act in a world now dominated by their victory. Her story, like the episode itself, is left in a holding pattern, uncertain of its next destination.

Conversely, the Lannisters’ fortune rises as the Starks’ falls. The Small Council scene, where Tywin receives the news, is a great display of subdued power dynamics. Joffrey’s gleeful, sadistic crowing is sharply curtailed by his grandfather’s command to leave, a stark reminder that true authority resides with Tywin. It is a effective beat, but again, it confirms a status quo we already understood. Similarly, Jaime Lannister’s return to King’s Landing, accompanied by Brienne and the sinister Qyburn, is a moment that closes one long-running thread—his captivity—and dutifully sets the stage for the next phase of his and Cersei’s co-dependent ruin.

The episode’s most significant narrative ‘mop-up’ concerns the fate of Theon Greyjoy. Through Roose Bolton, it is confirmed that his tormentor is Ramsay Snow, the Bastard of Bolton, who holds a broken Theon at the Dreadfort. The christening of ‘Reek’ and the ghastly dispatch of Theon’s severed manhood to his father, Balon Greyjoy, is pure, unadulterated horror. Yet, like the Frey celebrations, it feels like an explicit confirmation of off-screen atrocities. Balon’s cold refusal to treat for his son’s life prompts the episode’s first genuine spark of proactive heroism: Yara Greyjoy’s decision to mount a rescue mission. This, alongside other threads, begins to form the episode’s core purpose—to offer glimmers of defiant hope against the crushing darkness.

North of the Wall, the structural patchwork continues. At the Nightfort, the convergence of Samwell Tarly, Gilly, Bran Stark, Hodor, and the Reeds is a convenient narrative shortcut. Sam’s reluctant guidance, showing Bran the hidden gate, feels like a plot coupon being exchanged to move a character to the next zone. At Castle Black, Jon Snow’s return, grievously wounded by Ygritte’s arrows, provides the season’s most poignant personal tragedy—the definitive end of their star-crossed romance. Maester Aemon’s order to send ravens south, warning of the White Walker threat while dismissing the southern wars as ‘petty’, is a crucial thematic pivot. It is a message that, famously, falls on deaf ears almost everywhere.

The sole exception is the episode’s most dramatically satisfying development. On Dragonstone, Ser Davos, having orchestrated Gendry’s escape from Melisandre’s sacrificial knives, faces Stannis’s wrath. His life hangs by a thread until he produces Maester Aemon’s letter. In a moment that would become iconic, Davos argues passionately that the true war lies in the North. Surprisingly, Melisandre, after reading the same missive, concurs. Stannis is persuaded, and Davos is spared. This is Mhysa at its best: a character-driven decision that meaningfully alters the geopolitical board, redirecting a major faction toward the series’ ultimate existential conflict.

All this narrative housekeeping culminates in the titular finale in Yunkai. Daenerys Targaryen, having engineered the city’s liberation, is hailed as ‘Mhysa’—mother—by a sea of formerly enslaved people who lift her onto their shoulders. Directed with sweeping grandeur by David Nutter, it is a visually stunning and emotionally resonant conclusion, designed to send audiences into the hiatus on a note of unadulterated triumph. It was, and remains, a powerful piece of cinema.

Yet, this very scene later became a locus of potent controversy. In the years following, a increasingly loud and influential segment of “woke” critics levelled accusations of the ‘White Saviour’ trope, noting the stark visual contrast between the pale, silver-haired Daenerys and the darker-skinned extras (a practical consequence of filming in Morocco). In response, George R. R. Martin and the show’s defenders argued, somewhat awkwardly, that slavery in Essos was conceived as a class-based, not race-based, institution in the books. The defence felt like a retrospective attempt to align the imagery with modern sensibilities, highlighting the inherent tension between the scene’s intended epic heroism and its potentially problematic optics.

Ultimately, Mhysa was well-received upon airing, securing strong ratings and generally positive reviews that acknowledged its solid craftsmanship. Critics, however, universally conceded it could not hope to match the gut-punch of its predecessor. Its function was inherently reactive: to clear the debris, take stock, and point tentatively toward future horizons. The worst has already happened; the surviving protagonists are largely in states of recovery or transit. In this, the episode serves as crucial, if undramatic, emotional counterprogramming. After the unrelenting nihilism of the Red Wedding, we are given Yara’s courage, Bran’s purpose, Davos’s persuasive integrity, and Dany’s victory. It is a necessary palliative, a bridge between trauma and the next chapter. But a bridge, no matter how sturdily constructed, is rarely as thrilling as the cataclysm that necessitated its building. Mhysa is competent, often beautiful, and strategically vital, but it stands as the first clear sign that even Game of Thrones could not indefinitely sustain the altitude it had so spectacularly achieved.

RATING: 7/10 (+++)

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[Introduction] Unlike most people of my generation, I first saw RoboCop only after I was 25. My friends and reviewers have known the film since childhood, so they tend to look at it through a filter of nostalgia. I didn't have that filter—and that's why I noticed earlier that, contrary to popular belief, older productions don't look so bad next to new ones. Ideas about psychology, metaphysics, and technology existed back then, but today they're harder to discern through the old format and narrative.

I've seen the original four times, the sequel twice, and I fell asleep during the third installment because the drop in quality was palpable from the very first minutes. A remake? It was okay the first time, painful the second. Joel Kinnaman did his best, as befits a truly excellent actor—the scene with "Murphy's remains" was fantastic (IMO, better than the original—I still get chills when I remember my initial reaction), but those are pretty much the only positives. I prefer Paul Verhoeven's production to the sequel – Irvin Kershner had some cool ideas and managed to retain the atmosphere of the previous installment, but it's not as polished as the first one, and it doesn't add enough of its own to the universe. I'm writing about all this because Robocop: Rogue City doesn't exist in a vacuum – it's a game that must grapple with legend, nostalgia, and fan expectations. And I, lacking a childish filter, view it differently than most audiences.

The game takes place between the second and third installments of the film. Even though Alex Murphy has dealt with the earlier threats, Detroit remains a dangerous city full of criminals. A new player has also appeared in the city, who also seems to be working with the OCP corporation...

[Plot] Despite Cain's death, the drug Nuke continues to ravage the souls of Detroit's citizens. The role of the religious fanatic has been taken over by various gangs seeking to cash in on his chemical legacy. The New Player in Town I mentioned earlier uses them to further his goals – the gangsters snatch a corpse for Wendell Antonowsky, brother of Alex's murderer. As soon as the brunette appears nearby, Robocop experiences various malfunctions – he sees memories, loses consciousness, etc. The script could easily serve as the basis for a third installment, with a few changes, of course.

While the creators perfectly captured the atmosphere of the old movies, as seen in the graphics, heard in the conversations, and sounds, and I can simply feel it while playing Rogue City, there are a few things they missed. While calling Wendell a "new player" is understandable, having him constantly referred to as such by various characters is cringe-inducing. This isn't the fucking Emperor of China or an all-powerful corporate boss who makes the President of the United States cringe in fear. I say this because in the anime Kingdom (I recommend it, it's excellent!), all the villagers, soldiers, and citizens of China have a subservient attitude towards their ruler. As for corporations, imagine Bill Gates merging with Jeff Bezos, only give him 500% more of their combined cash. Or calling the head of OCP "old man." While that description is appropriate when we first see him and in a few moments, in everything else it feels as artificial as "new guy in town." Fixing this wasn't difficult; a thorough, one-time script overhaul would have sufficed, turning these terms into synonyms.

But aside from that, the Polish studio managed to organically capture the atmosphere of this world. I don't know about you, but as a child, I loved wondering what the characters were doing when the camera wasn't showing them. If I were a child, I would have praised Teyon for making it believable. Once I got used to the controls, I felt this world. The spurting blood splattering our helmet and surroundings. The filth covering the city and the ubiquitous stench. Old technology adapted to the modern era, people who supposedly live in the future, yet it's completely invisible. Or the cringe-worthy dialogues between NPCs... When you combine the work of the scriptwriter, quest creators, and graphic designers, you get a great simulation of life in Detroit. The worldbuilding, the script, and the way the graphic designers presented it, especially the first and third aspects, are very solid. The idea, imagination, and time invested are evident.

The addition of new content was equally successful – showing examples of future cop missions, which we haven't seen through Alex Murphy's eyes yet. These seem like fairly basic quests, but I really enjoyed issuing tickets. The same goes for the new characters, like the drug addict who acts as an informant and Ulysses Washington. However, I have a minor quibble with them – they have far too few storylines in the game. We got 2 or 3 quests, with a total of 4 or 6 involving them. It's a shame, because the concept of these relationships was handled quite well – the drug addict wants to become a good person, and Ulysses wants to become a full-fledged police officer (the police treat him as an unnecessary element, which doesn't surprise me, since he's just following the OCP's orders). However, there are minor drawbacks. If they'd added even one, slightly larger quest, I'd be satisfied.

Aside from the above, it makes me want to see the entire map and check out all the activities, side quests, hidden content, etc. A nice change from Witcher 3, CP2077, and their numerous question marks. I like them, but I missed the old-school single-player gameplay. While I love the gargantuan Witcher map and the question marks, I've learned firsthand that smaller, more refined locations also have their charm. On the other hand, it's a shame there are so few levels. Once I got really involved in the story, it started to draw to a close. I think adding one more city area, or 3-4 hours of gameplay, would have been enough. It could have been, for example, a solo mission for Ulysses and Murphy while his partner is in the hospital and the rest of the police deal with some threat.

[Typical Double A] I've also longed to play a few examples of Double A games. What are they? They're titles that fall somewhere between slick AAA games and small indie productions. Titles too big to be small, but too small to be called Triple A. Developers have the budget and experienced staff to create a product that resembles a Triple A game, but isn't. Some gamers ask the question: if smaller studios can create a game like this on a relatively small budget, why can't AAA developers make similar ones? The answer is simple: games cost money and are incredibly demanding. TL;DR version: John Carmack, a mega-autistic genius, nearly worked himself to death creating Quake 1. We're talking about a guy who programmed simple code even while on vacation. If it weren't for Michael Abras and John Cash, that game would never have been released. Now, look at when Quake 1 came out.

Many AAA titles are too repetitive and safe, and I want to see something that defies the usual formulas, even if it's fundamentally worse. It's enough that they don't cause critical errors. I didn't encounter one while playing Rogue City, but I know this problem existed in older versions. The only problems I saw were bodies getting stuck in walls or cabinets, or even going through them without any visible damage. Bugs are part of the fun, and I'm not going to nitpick on them, as that would be unfair given the significantly lower budgets. And that's precisely why Rogue City is such a good example of AA: ambitious, but not pretending to be AAA.

A bad lip sync, while sometimes amusing, evokes a completely different feeling in me than indifference, but I know that getting it right is a long and arduous process. The Polish gaming channel on YouTube, Okiem Deva, once discussed this. Matching the movements of the mouth muscles to the spoken text can be a nightmare, which means only the main character gets worked on, as that's who we see most often. Sometimes they also work on less important characters, but NPCs are essentially ignored. It requires a lot of money that would be better spent on graphics or an expert who can refine a crucial aspect of the gameplay. Most people don't pay attention to the story anyway (as evidenced by the numerous statistics from Steam and Sony), but everyone plays – the math is simple.

[Gameplay] Despite a few complaints, Robocop's controls are surprisingly smooth and enjoyable. Watching gameplay, I was afraid Murphy's limited range of movement would tire me out. On the other hand, if we speed him up a bit, we'll no longer be playing as a heavy cyborg, but rather as an imitation. Slayer from Doom doesn't have all the moves either, but unlike Robocop, he's not a several-ton cabinet. He runs, jumps, and juggles weapons, while Robocop is slow, heavy, and his movement is burdened with a certain inertia. It's a change from products that emphasize greater mobility. I don't like slow games, but once I beat the first level and got used to the pace, it was fine. I didn't even consider turning the game off.

I complained about the gunplay for a while longer. It wasn't just a simple change of pace, like when switching from Counter-Strike and Doom, but something more challenging. It wasn't just a change in the pace of the game, the rate of fire, or the gunplay; I had to get used to Murphy's heavy hand. It wasn't easy, but fortunately, it wasn't difficult either – otherwise I wouldn't have written this review, and certainly not such a positive one. Polish studio Teyon did a worse job with the gunplay than CDPRed, but it was manageable. I haven't played Doom TDA yet, so I can't compare the two games, but Robocop can be praised in the same way – you control a slow, heavy tank that can ram enemies. Literally ram them! As soon as I discovered the boost, I started running into groups of enemies and throwing them against walls. This is another thing the game developers managed to achieve – even though I was playing with a PS4 controller, I felt the weight and power of my character. Whenever I sit down to play relatively well-rested, I feel like I'm moving several tons of iron.

The RPG elements are a nice plus. We have a total of eight stats (Combat, Armor, Vitality, Engineering, Focus, Scanning, Deduction, Psychology), and every few points, we gain new skills, simultaneously developing the basic one associated with a given stat (e.g., the higher the Combat stat, the more damage we deal. The better the Scanning, the greater the radar range). We don't have many skills, but they are perfectly adequate for the length of the game. We also collect various processors, which act as additional power-ups—improving our weapons. We can combine three processors to obtain one powerful one. The system is simple, but it works.

A noticeable drawback of the game is that some enemies are bullet sponges. While I can overlook some armored units because you just need to locate their weak points, shooting at an ED-209 Robot for several minutes... Ugh, that was very tiring. If I'd only played this fight once, it would have been a cool, fun experience. It was great to feel the mech's lethal power, but the third time I'd be yawning from boredom. And I'd be running around the map looking for a larger-caliber weapon. I don't have a problem with it, because of D4, DE, and Returnal. I know what it's like to shoot at an enemy for a long time, but... In those three games, it works; in Rogue City, it kills the dynamics and is irritating. Both Doom and Returnal games gave me a much more powerful beating, but here I felt like I was wasting my time. I play as a character who crushes enemies like a heavy steamroller going 50 km/h, and a slightly larger robot gives me problems like a fucking US Navy cruiser. I know the ED-209 has a weak point, but adding a few more or at least reducing the health bar would make things much easier. Other than that, no complaints; I had fun taking down hordes of human or robotic enemies.

[Graphics and Music] I've already written about the graphics in previous paragraphs, so this time I'll keep it brief. Rogue City is powered by the 5th generation of Unreal Engine, specifically version 5.2 or later. I'm not an expert on it, so to be honest, I'll skip the details. Overall, the game still looks nice, but it clearly lags behind God of War 2018 (at least I think so, as it's an older game) or Silent Hill 2 Remake in this regard.

As for the music, the game lives up to the original film's standard. Initially, I was worried it would be lacking in this regard (that menu song sounds so cheap... And yes, I know it's a remix of the main theme), but as soon as I heard the track inspired by Basil Poledouris' musical masterpiece, something changed. It was a feeling of nostalgia that grew with each listen to the iconic track. The final confrontation with Wendell didn't blow me away like, say, Reed or Songbird from the CP2077 DLC, but I felt a sense of satisfaction bursting through my heart. For those dozen or so minutes, I took on Alex Murphy's armor, obliterating enemies in various ways. Throwing a gas canister, a motorcycle, or a giant dumpster. Firing a pistol or a heavy machine gun. Throwing enemies against walls. It's no accident that I mention this gameplay element here. I haven't noticed it in other games, but while playing Rogue City, I could hear the sounds of metal scraping against walls. I'll be honest, I'm not talking about something that's been around in Doom for a long time—the sounds of a chainsaw scraping against a wall—but rather the sounds of objects being held in your hand. I don't think that happens very often in games.

But getting back to the music, thanks to the better remixes of the main theme, and the tracks "Nuke" and "Ugly Side," I can say the entire soundtrack is excellent. I'm not a music expert, so don't take this as fact, but these tracks fit the hard rock and metal of the era. The vocals, the sounds, the atmosphere, the tempo, the mood, the beat... When I first heard them, I was transported back to the days when, as a young teenager, I was searching for (and later, shaping) my musical identity. I listened to a lot of hard rock and metal classics back then. And it seamlessly integrates with what we've seen in movies and games. The songs also work well during combat and as background music. The music is my favorite aspect of this game.

The involvement of the original voice actor is also a very nice aspect. Maybe it's just my impression and the effect of sound filters (after all, Peter Weller is an old man now), but I think he really committed to the role. Why am I not surprised? Thanks to her, he's etched his place in cinematic history. By the way, Kosha Engler also did a great job as Anne Lewis. Listening to her, I was absolutely convinced she was the original actress every time. Aside from Peter Waller, no one else was cast in the original film, but to be honest, I didn't notice the difference. Everyone at least did a good job.

[Summary] Is this game worth playing? Yes, but I recommend waiting for a sale. If I'd bought it for close to full price, I would have complained. Fortunately, I patiently waited for a sale and I'm not disappointed. Yes, the game's flaws, length, and simplicity were irritating at times, but then I remembered it was a double-A title, and my irritation vanished. It's a fun shooter that will especially please fans of old films, but it's not without its flaws. It also has many strengths, though not as spectacular or "wow"-worthy, but it would be unfair to ignore them.

The artists and screenwriters did a fantastic job designing the locations. Minor criticisms aside, I never once felt discomfort, disruption, or even the slightest irritation navigating the levels. I was there – in Detroit, the police station, the VHS rental store, the old buildings, the hospital, the level reminiscent of the final shootout from the first film! The game is bloody, juicy, and taking down enemies is a joy (apart from shooting the ED-209). The creators managed to expand the film's universe just as well as the director of the second film, or even better – they had more to invent and create. After all, what works in the mind doesn't always look as good. The music is practically a gem. The kitsch is the same as in the movies – sometimes funny, sometimes embarrassing.

My rating is 7/10. Initially, I wanted to give it a 6/10, but the finale was so satisfying that I upped my rating. I would love to play the DLC.

[Wprowadzenie] W przeciwieństwie do większości ludzi z mojego pokolenia, pierwszy raz obejrzałem RoboCopa dopiero po 25 roku życia. Moi znajomi i recenzenci znają ten film od dziecka, więc bardziej patrzą na niego przez filtr nostalgii. Ja tego filtra nie miałem — i dzięki temu szybciej zauważyłem, że wbrew obiegowym opiniom stare produkcje nie prezentują się tak źle w zestawieniu z nowymi. Już wtedy istniały pomysły dotyczące psychologii, metafizyki czy technologii, tylko dziś trudniej je dostrzec przez starą formę, czy narrację.

Oryginał widziałem cztery razy, sequel dwa, a na trzeciej części zasnąłem, bo spadek jakości czuć od pierwszych minut. Remake? Za pierwszym razem był okej, za drugim — bolesny. Joel Kinnaman robił co mógł jak przystało na bardzo dobrego aktora - scena z „resztkami Murphy’ego” była rewelacyjna (IMO lepsza niż w oryginale - do dzisiaj mam ciarki, jak przypomnę sobie moją pierwszą reakcję), ale to właściwie jedyne zalety. Preferuję produkcję Paul Verhoevena od sequela - Irvin Kershner miał parę fajnych pomysłów, udało mu się zachować klimat wcześniejszej części, ale nie jest tak dopracowana, jak wcześniejsza + za mało dodaje od siebie do tego uniwersum. Piszę o tym wszystkim, bo Robocop: Rogue City nie istnieje w próżni — to gra, która musi zmierzyć się z legendą, nostalgią i oczekiwaniami fanów. A ja, pozbawiony dziecięcego filtra, patrzę na nią inaczej niż większość odbiorców.

Akcja gry ma miejsce między 2, a 3 częścią filmu. Mimo że Alex Murphy poradził sobie z wcześniejszymi zagrożeniami, Detroit pozostaje niebezpiecznym miastem pełnym przestępców. W mieście pojawił się też nowy gracz, który również zdaje się współpracować z korporacją OCP...

[Fabuła] Pomimo zabicia Caina, narkotyk Nuke ciągle pustoszy dusze mieszkańców Detroit. Rolę religijnego fanatyka przejęły różne gangi, które chcą zarobić na jego chemicznym dziedzictwie. Wspomniany przeze mnie wcześniej, Nowy Gracz w Mieście, wykorzystuje ich do realizacji swoich celów - gangsterzy porywają zwłoki dla Wendella Antonowsky'ego - brata mordercy Alexa. Gdy tylko brunet pojawia się w pobliżu, Robocop doświadcza różnych awarii - widzi wspomnienia, ma zaburzenia świadomości etc. Scenariusz mógłby z powodzeniem posłużyć za podstawę do trzeciej części. Oczywiście po kilku zmianach.

Choć twórcy perfekcyjnie oddali klimat starych filmów, co widać po grafice, słychać po rozmowach, odgłosach i zwyczajnie czuję to grając w Rogue City, to parę rzeczy im nie wyszło. O ile zrozumiałe jest nazywanie Wendella "nowym graczem", o tyle mówienie o nim cały czas w ten sposób, przez różne postacie, budzi cringe. To nie jest pieprzony Cesarz Chin lub wszechwładny szef korporacji, który sprawia że Prezydent USA sra pod siebie ze strachu. Mówię to dlatego, bo w anime Kingdom (polecam, doskonałe!) wszyscy wieśniacy, żołnierze, obywatele Chin mają czołobitne podejście względem swojego władcy. Co do korporacji, wyobraźcie sobie fuzję Billa Gatesa z Jeffem Bezosem, tylko dodajcie mu 500% więcej ich połączonej forsy. Albo mówienie na szefa OCP "stary". O ile to określenie pasuje w sytuacji, gdy widzimy go po raz pierwszy oraz w paru momentach, o tyle w całej reszcie wypada równie sztucznie, co "nowy gracz w mieście". Naprawienie tego nie było trudne, wystarczyłaby solidna, jednorazowa rewizja scenariusza, która zamieniłaby te określenia na synonimy.

No ale pomijając to, polskiemu studiu udało się organicznie oddać klimat tego świata. Nie wiem jak Wy, ale jako dziecko lubiłem zastanawiać się nad tym, co robią bohaterzy filmu, gdy nie pokazuje ich kamera. Gdybym był dzieckiem, pochwaliłbym Teyon za zrobienie tego w wiarygodny sposób. Gdy już oswoiłem się ze sterowaniem, poczułem ten świat. Tę tryskającą litrami krew oblepiającą nasz hełm i otoczenie. Ten bród pokrywający miasto i wszędobylski smród. Starą technologię dostosowaną do dzisiejszych czasów, ludzi którzy niby żyją w przyszłości względem nas, ale w ogóle tego nie widać. Albo cringe'owe dialogi między NPC-ami... Gdy się połączy pracę scenarzysty, twórców questów i grafików dostaniemy świetną symulację życia w Detroit. Worldbuilding, scenariusz i to jak przedstawili go graficy, zwłaszcza pierwszy i trzeci aspekt, wypadły bardzo solidnie. Widać pomysł, wyobraźnię i poświęcony czas.

Równie udanie wyszło dodanie nowej zawartości - pokazanie przykładowych zadań gliniarza z przyszłości, których póki co nie widzieliśmy oczami Alexa Murphy'ego. Niby dość podstawowe questy, ale wystawianie mandatów naprawdę spodobało mi się. Tak samo nowe postacie, jak narkoman który pełni rolę informatora albo Ulysses Washington. Aczkolwiek mam do nich pewne zastrzeżenie - mają zdecydowanie zbyt mało wątków w grze. Dostaliśmy 2,3 questy, łącznie 4, 6 z ich udziałem. Szkoda, bo pomysł na te relacje został poprowadzony całkiem nieźle - narkoman chce zostać dobrym człowiekiem, a Ulysses pełnoprawnym policjantem (policja traktuje go jak zbędny element, co mnie nie dziwi, bo wykonuje polecenia OCP). Za to leci mały minus. Gdyby dodali choćby jeden, nieco większy quest, byłbym usatysfakcjonowany.

Pomijając powyższe, aż chce się zobaczyć całą mapę i sprawdzić wszystkie aktywności, zadania poboczne, ukrytą zawartość etc. Miła odmiana po Witcher 3, CP2077 i ich licznych znakach zapytania. Lubię je, ale brakowało mi takiej starej, single-playerowej rozgrywki. Choć lubię gargantuiczną mapę z Wiedźmina oraz znaki zapytania, to przekonałem się na własnej skórze, że mniejsze, dopracowane lokacje również mają swój urok. Z drugiej strony, szkoda że plansz jest tak mało. Gdy już naprawdę zaangażowałem się w historię, to ta zaczęła zbliżać się do finiszu. Wydaje mi się, że dodanie jeszcze jednego obszaru miasta, czyli 3,4 godzin zabawy, wystarczyłoby. Mogłaby być to np. solowa misja Ulyssesa i Murphy'ego, gdy jego partnerka leży w szpitalu, a reszta policji radzi sobie z jakimś zagrożeniem.

[Typowy Double A] Od dawna chciałem też zagrać w kilka przykładowych gier double A. Czym one są? To tytuły będące pomiędzy wypasionymi grami AAA, a małymi produkcjami typu Indie. Tytuły zbyt duże, aby być małe, ale zbyt małe, by nazwać je Triple A. Producenci dysponują budżetem i doświadczonymi pracownikami, by stworzyć produkt przypominający produkcję Triple A, ale nie będącą nią. Niektórzy gracze zadają pytanie - skoro mniejsze studia mogą stworzyć taką grę za stosunkowo niewielki budżet, to czemu producenci AAA nie mogą zrobić podobnych? Odpowiedź jest prosta - gry kosztują i są kurewsko wymagające. Wersja tl;dr - John Carmack, mega autystyczny geniusz, niemal zapracował się na śmierć tworząc Quake 1. Mówimy o typie, który programował proste kody nawet podczas urlopu. Gdyby nie Michael Abras i John Cash, to ta gra nigdy by nie wyszła. A teraz zobaczcie sobie, kiedy wyszedł Quake 1.

Wiele tytułów AAA jest zbyt powtarzalna oraz bezpieczna, a ja chcę zobaczyć coś umykającego utartym schematom, nawet jeśli będzie zasadniczo gorsze. Wystarczy, że nie będą powodowały krytycznych błędów. Grając w Rogue City, nie natrafiłem na taki ani razu, ale wiem że ten problem występował w starych wersjach. Jedyne problemy jakie widziałem, to ciała wbite w ścianę, szafki albo nawet przebijające je bez widocznych zniszczeń. Błędy to część zabawy i nie zamierzam się ich czepiać, bo byłoby to niesprawiedliwe z uwagi na znacznie niższe budżety. I właśnie dlatego Rogue City jest tak dobrym przykładem AA: ambitne, ale nie udające AAA.

Kiepski lipsync choć bywa zabawny, to wywołuje we mnie zupełnie inne uczucia niż obojętność, ale wiem że zrobienie go w porządny sposób, to długa i żmudna praca. Kiedyś mówił o tym polski kanał gamingowy na YT, Okiem Deva. Dopasowanie ruchu mięśni ust do wypowiadanego tekstu potrafi być koszmarnym problemem, przez co dłubie się jedynie przy głównym bohaterze, bo to jego widzimy najczęściej. Czasami też trochę popracują nad mniej istotnymi postaciami, ale NPC są zasadniczo ignorowani. Wymaga dużo pieniędzy, które lepiej jest przeznaczyć na grafikę lub eksperta, który dopracuje nam istotny aspekt rozgrywki. Większość ludzi i tak nie zwraca uwagę na fabułę (co widać po licznych statystykach ze Steama i Sony), ale za to każdy gra - rachunek jest prosty.

[Gameplay] Mimo kilku zarzutów, sterowanie Robocopem przebiega zaskakująco płynnie i przyjemnie. Oglądając gameplaye bałem się, że ograniczony zakres ruchów Murphy'ego będzie mnie męczył. Z drugiej strony, jeśli go trochę przyspieszymy, to nie będziemy już grali ciężkim cyborgiem, tylko jego imitacją. Slayer z Dooma co prawda również nie ma wszystkich ruchów, ale w przeciwieństwie do Robocopa, nie jest kilku tonową szafą. Biega, skacze, żongluje uzbrojeniem, a Robocop jest powolny, ciężki, a jego ruch jest obarczony pewną bezwładnością. To pewna odmiana względem produktów stawiających na większą mobilność. Nie lubię powolnych gier, a tu jak tylko przeszedłem pierwszą planszę i przyzwyczaiłem się do tempa poruszania, to było spoko. Nawet nie przeszło mi przez myśl, by wyłączyć grę.

Na strzelanie narzekałem trochę dłużej. Nie była to zwykła zmiana gry, jak w przypadku przejścia z Counter Strike i Doom, tylko coś trudniejszego. To nie tylko zmiana tempa rozgrywki, szybkostrzelności, gunplayu, musiałem przyzwyczaić się do ciężkiej łapy Murphy'ego. Nie było to łatwe, ale na szczęście również nie trudne - inaczej nie napisałbym tej recenzji, a na pewno nie tak pozytywnej. Polskie studio Teyon zrobiło gorszą robotę w kwestii gunplayu niż CDPRed, ale dało się przeżyć. Jeszcze nie grałem w Doom TDA, więc nie mogę porównać obu gier, ale Robocopa można reklamować tak samo - sterujemy powolnym i ciężkim czołgiem, który może staranować przeciwników. Dosłownie staranować, jak tylko odkryłem przyspieszenie, to zacząłem wbiegać w grupę przeciwników i rzucać nimi po ścianach. To kolejna rzecz, która udała się twórcom gry - mimo że grałem na kontrolerze do PS, czułem ciężar oraz siłę mojej postaci. Ilekroć siadam w miarę wypoczęty do gry, czuję że poruszam kilkutonowym żelastwem.

Miłym plusem są elementy RPG. Łącznie mamy 8 statystyk (Combat, Armor, Vitality, Engineering, Focus, Scanning, Deduction, Psychology) i co kilka punktów, dostajemy kolejne umiejętności, jednocześnie rozwijając tę podstawową związaną z daną statystyką (np. im wyższy wskaźnik Combat - tym więcej zadajemy obrażeń. Im lepszy Scanning, tym większy zasięg radaru). Nie mamy zbyt wielu zdolności, ale są w pełni wystarczające jak na tę długość gry. Zbieramy też różne procesory, które pełnią rolę dodatkowego wzmocnienia - poprawiają naszą broń. Możemy połączyć 3 procesory, by uzyskać 1 silny. System jest prosty, ale działa.

Odczuwalną wadą gry jest to, że niektórzy przeciwnicy są gąbką na pociski. O ile mogę przymknąć oko na niektóre opancerzone jednostki, bo wystarczy zlokalizować ich słabe punkty, o tyle strzelanie przez kilka minut do Robota ED-209... Ech, było to bardzo męczące. Gdyby takie starcie było raz - spoko, fajne doświadczenie, fajnie było poczuć morderczą siłę tego mecha, ale za 3 razem ziewałem z nudów. No i wkurzałem się biegając po mapie, by znaleźć broń o większym kalibrze. Nie mam z tym problemu, przez D4, DE i Returnal, wiem co to długie strzelanie do przeciwnika, ale... W tych 3 tytułach to działa, w Rogue City - zabija dynamikę i wkurwia. Obie części Dooma lub Returnal dawały mi znacznie potężniejszy wpierdol, a tutaj czułem że tracę czas. Gram postacią, która miażdży wrogów, jak ciężki walec jadący 50km/h, a nieco większy robot sprawia mi problemy, jakby był pierdolonym krążownikiem marynarki USA. Wiem, że ED-209 ma słaby punkt, ale dodanie kilku innych lub przynajmniej zmniejszenie paska życia znacząco ułatwiłoby robotę. Poza tym, zero zarzutów, rozwalanie hord ludzkich lub robotycznych wrogów sprawiło mi frajdę.

[Grafika i muzyka] O oprawie graficznej napisałem już we wcześniejszych akapitach, więc tym razem będzie krótko. Rogue City jest napędzane 5 generację Unreal Engine, a konkretniej wersją 5.2 lub późniejszą. Nie znam się na tym, więc żeby nie kłamać, daruję sobie szczegóły. Generalnie gra ciągle wygląda ładnie, ale wyraźnie odstaje na tym polu od God of War 2018 (tak mi się przynajmniej wydaje, bo to starsza gra) lub Silent Hill 2 remake.

Co do muzyki, gra trzyma poziom filmowego oryginału. Początkowo obawiałem się, że będzie słabo pod tym względem (ta piosenka z menu brzmi tak tanio... I tak, wiem że to remix głównego motywu), ale gdy tylko usłyszałem utwór inspirowany muzycznym arcydziełem Basila Poledourisa, coś we się zmieniło. To było uczucie nostalgii, które rosło z każdą okazją, gdy słyszałem kultowy utwór. Finałowa konfrontacja z Wendellem co prawda nie rozwaliła mnie, jak np. starcie z Reedem lub Songbird z DLC do CP2077, ale czułem jak satysfakcja rozrywa moje serce. Na te kilkanaście minut, wcieliłem się w zbroję Alexa Murphy'ego, rozpierdalając wrogów na różne sposoby. Rzucając kanistrem z benzyną, motocyklem lub olbrzymim śmietnikiem. Strzelając z pistoletu lub ciężkiego karabinu maszynowego. Rzucając przeciwnikami o ścianę. Nieprzypadkowo wspominam o tym elemencie gameplayu tutaj. Nie zwróciłem na to uwagi w innych grach, ale grając w Rogue City, słyszałem odgłosy ocierania metalu o ścianę. Od razu powiem, że nie chodzi mi o coś, co było w Doomie od dawna - odgłosy tarcia piłą mechaniczną o ścianę, tylko przedmiotów trzymanych w dłoni. Wydaje mi się, że nie zdarza się to w grach zbyt często.

No ale wracając do muzyki, przez te lepsze remixy motywu głównego, kawałki Nuke i Ugly Side, mogę uznać cały soundtrack za znakomity. Nie znam się na muzyce, więc nie traktujcie tego jako fakt, ale te kawałki pasują do hard rocka i metalu z tamtych lat. Ten wokal, te odgłosy, ten klimat, tempo utworów, nastrój, bit... Gdy usłyszałem je po raz pierwszy, przeniosłem się do czasów, gdy jako młody nastolatek szukałem (a potem, kształtowałem) swojej muzycznej tożsamości. Słuchałem wtedy dużo klasyków hard rocka i metalu. No i wręcz organicznie łączy się z tym, co nam pokazały filmy i gry. Dobrze wypadają również utwory w trakcie walk lub jako tło przy innych okazjach. Muzyka to moja ulubiona zaleta tej gry.

Bardzo miłym aspektem, jest również zaangażowanie oryginalnego aktora. Może to tylko moje wrażenie i efekt filtrów dźwiękowych (w końcu Peter Weller jest teraz staruszkiem), ale wydaje mi się, że naprawdę zaangażował się w tę rolę. Czemu się nie dziwię, dzięki niej dożywotnio zapisał się drukowanymi literami w historii kinematografii. Swoją drogą, bardzo dobrze wypadła też Kosha Engler jako Anne Lewis. Słuchając jej, za każdym razem byłem święcie przekonany, że to oryginalna aktorka. Poza Peterem Wallerem, nikt nie brał udziału w filmowym pierwowzorze, ale jeśli mam być szczery, nie poczułem różnicy. Wszyscy spisali się przynajmniej dobrze.

[Podsumowanie] Czy warto zagrać w tę grę? Tak, ale zalecam poczekać na promocję. Gdybym kupił ten produkt za cenę zbliżoną do pełnej, narzekałbym na niego. Na szczęście cierpliwie czekałem na promocję i nie jestem rozczarowany. Tak, wady, długość i prostota gry bywały irytujące, ale potem przypomniałem sobie, że to tytuł double A i moja irytacja znikała. To fajna strzelanka, która zadowoli szczególnie fanów starych filmów, ale nie jest bez wad. Za to ma też dużo zalet, nie tak spektakularnych, nie robią efektu "wow", ale niesprawiedliwością byłoby, gdybym je pominął.

Graficy i scenarzyści odjebali zajebistą robotę projektując lokacje. Pomijając drobne zarzuty do scenarzystów, ani razu nie poczułem dyskomfortu, zaburzenia lub choćby minimalnej irytacji poruszając się po planszach. Ja tam byłem - w Detroit, na komisariacie, wypożyczalni kaset VHS, starych budynkach, szpitalu, planszy przypominającej miejsce finałowej strzelaniny z 1 części filmu! Gra jest krwawa, soczysta, a rozwalenie przeciwników sprawia frajdę (poza strzelaniem do ED-209). Twórcom udało się rozbudować uniwersum z filmu równie dobrze, co reżyserowi 2 części, a nawet jeszcze lepiej - wszakże mieli więcej rzeczy do wymyślenia i stworzenia. W końcu nie zawsze to, co działa w myśli, prezentuje się równie dobrze. Muzyka to prawie perła. Kicz jest taki sam, jak w filmach - czasem śmieszny, czasem żenujący.

Moja ocena to 7/10. Początkowo chcialem dać 6/10, ale finał był tak satysfakcjonujący, że podciągnąłem ocenę. Chętnie zagram w DLC.

Based on the novel by A.J. Quinnell

"Story is about a broken man, a broken soldier, a broken operative - whatever, it doesn't really deserve me spending my time."

These were my thoughts during the first 20-25 minutes of the first episode. But when I was about to stop the show, everything's changed. Suddenly, it sets the pace and I couldn't think of anything else but to continue watching.

I am still not saying this is the best show, worth your time watching, that you have to decide. I liked it enough to write a review.

So, without any further ado, let's move ahead with it.

As I mentioned above it is based on a novel by A.J. Quinnell. But, what I didn't tell you is that they have already made a film on it in the 80s and one in the early years of 21st century.

Even though, this show based on the novel, it doesn't completely follow the book nor the previous two movies. Basic characters remain the same and they have included some new characters.

So, A broken soldier, an angry daughter, a loving and caring father. All the typical factors of a formula movie from the 80s. Or from a popular story of the time.

While watching sometimes I had moments when I thought they have made it just for the sake of making a show. Especially, the moments when Poe giving the expressions with her eyes, felt a little extreme. These short moments making some bad impacts, I kept watching, nonetheless. The only reason was, it doesn't only have bad moments but also has good moments. The balance was towards good.

Story started from the incident in Mexico where Creasy lost all of his team to terrorists.

After some time his friend, Rayburn, offered him a job in Rio, Brazil as a security personnel. On his very first day terrorist bombed the building where Rayburn was living with his family, killing them all in the blast except his daughter, Poe.

These terrorists then tried to kill Poe. Unfortunately, she had seen two white vans and a bike leaving the site. She did also see the face of the person riding the bike and this was the reason they wanted to kill her.

Remember, ahead is not spoiler even if you feel so.

President Carmo, his security chief Soares and CIA agent Tappen were the real culprits and they were pointing all the crimes towards Ferraz. Tappen was the one riding the bike.

This isn't much of a spoiler, you'll figure it out on your own sooner than expected, neither it is the end game.

Performance-wise, I loved Creasy's performance.

Creasy, one of the main roles, the hero, is a good actor, I found his performance inspiring and engaging. I felt his style similar to those of from Indian cinema, South Indian cinema to be more precisely.

In my opinion, considering its genre, what should have been great were the fighting scenes and action sequences and, no doubt, they did an excellent job in executing them.

The fighting scenes between Creasy and Soares are the good examples. Soares is the Minister of Defense cum security cheif, he should be highly trained and well equiped in martial arts, not be beaten by Creasy easily. This is exactly what they showed. Fights looked natural, though were brief I enjoyed them completely, both of them.

Creasy used to have black outs after the Mexico incident which he overcame at the end which was expected, after all he's the hero of the story. And, here they began the major change in the story.

Other than that, it has some great dialogues and many excellent sentimental moments.

One such dialogue has stuck with me, "This is the one city in the world where poor live above the rich."

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Translated Using Deepl

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Rains of Castamere (S03E09)

Airdate: 3 June 2013

Written by: David Benioff & D. B. Weiss Directed by: David Nutter

Running Time: 51 minutes

In television history, few phenomena have been as culturally dominant in their respective decades as Dynasty was in the 1980s and Game of Thrones in the 2010s. To the newer, perhaps more credulous viewer, HBO’s epic fantasy series was initially hailed as a revolutionary break from television convention—a gritty, morally complex saga that elevated the medium. Yet for the older, more cynical observer, the precedent was clear: beneath the dragons and direwolves beat the heart of a prime-time soap opera, albeit one dressed in medieval trappings and granted a cinematic budget. The parallels between the two shows are numerous, but none is more striking than the fact that both secured their iconic, era-defining status with a wedding episode that culminated in massacre. For Dynasty, it was the Royal Wedding a.k.a. “Moldavian Wedding Massacre” of Season 5; for Game of Thrones, it is, and perhaps always will be, The Rains of Castamere. As the penultimate episode of Season 3, this instalment did not merely conclude a storyline; it became a seismic television event, arguably the greatest of the 21st century, whose shockwaves permanently altered the landscape of popular culture and the expectations of the audience.

Written by showrunners David Benioff and D. B. Weiss and directed with chilling efficiency by David Nutter, The Rains of Castamere is a model of focused, economical storytelling. At approximately 51 minutes, it was one of the shortest episodes of the series, a taut narrative that dispensed with preamble and built its tension with relentless precision. This economy is reflected in the limited number of storylines it follows, each meticulously chosen to either contrast with or foreshadow the central catastrophe. The most distant thread unfolds in Essos, where Daenerys Targaryen, heeding the bold counsel of the mercenary Daario Naharis, dispatches him, Grey Worm, and Ser Jorah Mormont on a perilous mission to infiltrate Yunkai. The sequence is a classic adventure trope—the risky covert op—and its success, with the trio returning triumphant to announce the city’s capture, provides a fleeting, almost traditional moment of heroic victory. It is a deliberate foil, a reminder of the conventional fantasy narrative that the episode is about to eviscerate.

North of the Wall, the tone shifts to one of grim survival and nascent power. Samwell Tarly, having escaped the Fist of the First Men with Gilly, finds the young woman terrified by the Wall, a symbol of monstrous legend among the Free Folk. In a quiet moment that underscores the series’ thematic reverence for knowledge, Sam explains they can cross through a hidden tunnel in the Nightfort, information he gleaned from reading books—a skill Gilly views as a form of wizardry. This subtle championing of intellect over brute force is a minor grace note before the violence to come.

Further south, in the Gift, the paths of the scattered Stark children briefly and tragically converge. Jon Snow, embedded with the wildling raiding party, is forced to reveal his true loyalties when he refuses to kill an old horsemaster. Ygritte kills the man for him, a brutal act meant to protect her lover, but a scuffle erupts, leading to Jon’s flight after killing the warg Orell. Unbeknownst to him, this life-or-death struggle is witnessed from a nearby tower by Bran, the Reeds, Hodor, Osha, and Rickon. Here, the episode showcases Bran’s burgeoning warg abilities: first to calm a panicked Hodor, and then, more crucially, to inhabit the mind of his direwolf Summer and intervene to save Jon’s life. This near-reunion of the Stark brothers—so close yet utterly unaware—is a masterful piece of tragic irony, heightening the sense of a family on the cusp of reconnection before being violently torn asunder. Following the skirmish, the group fractures again, with Osha taking Rickon to the safety of the Umbers, Starks’ loyal bannermen, while Bran, Hodor, and the Reeds press on towards the Wall and his destiny.

The episode’s most foreboding prelude, however, belongs to Arya Stark and the Hound. As they approach the Twins, Sandor Clegane’s instinctive caution manifests in the adoption of a pork peddler’s guise. His wariness is proven prescient as they observe the uneasy, suspicious demeanour of the Frey soldiers around the fortress. This external perspective builds dread expertly; the viewer, perhaps armed with foreknowledge, sees the trap being set from the outside, even as those within walk blindly into it.

Inside the Twins, the wedding of Edmure Tully and Roslin Frey (Alexandra Dowling) begins as a seemingly joyous, raucous affair. The Stark and Tully attendees are relaxed, lulled by wine and ceremony. Edmure is delighted with his surprisingly beautiful bride, and the ritual of the bedding ceremony is carried out with bawdy enthusiasm. It is in this moment of maximum vulnerability and celebration that the horror is sprung. The hall doors are locked, and the musicians strike up the haunting, funereal notes of “The Rains of Castamere”. The song, an ode to Tywin Lannister’s ruthless annihilation of House Reyne, serves as the death knell for House Stark’s hopes. Lady Catelyn’s realisation is instantaneous and visceral; her eyes find Roose Bolton, the revelation of armour beneath his wedding finery confirming the betrayal. What follows is a sequence of exquisitely awful brutality that remains one of the most horrific ever broadcast. Crossbowmen cut down the Stark bannermen. A Frey dagger is plunged into the pregnant Talisa’s abdomen. Robb and Catelyn are riddled with bolts. In the chaos, Catelyn seizes Walder Frey’s young wife, Joyeuse, holding a knife to her throat in a final, desperate plea for her son’s life. The answer comes from Roose Bolton, who delivers the coup de grâce to the dying Robb with the chilling line, “The Lannisters send their regards.” Understanding the totality of their defeat, Catelyn slits Joyeuse’s throat before having her own cut—a final, futile act of vengeance from a woman broken. The silence that follows, extending into the black, soundless credits, is arguably more devastating than any score.

The impact of The Rains of Castamere is the cornerstone of its legacy. It is the episode for which Game of Thrones is most universally known, precisely because its finale represented a shock so profound and consequences so irreversible that the series never truly replicated its impact in the subsequent five seasons. This is hardly surprising, as the “Red Wedding” was the most shocking event in George R. R. Martin’s source novels and, famously, the very sequence that convinced Benioff and Weiss to adapt the series. Its power derived from its ruthless defiance of convention. In one stroke, it demolished not only the central heroic faction but also the ingrained narrative safety nets of both television and popular fantasy. Even viewers hardened by Ned Stark’s execution two years prior were utterly unprepared for the scale and intimacy of this betrayal.

The comparison to Dynasty’s “Moldavian Wedding Massacre” is both unavoidable and instructive, perfectly illustrating how television evolved over 28 years. In Aaron Spelling’s soap, the massacre was a cynical cliffhanger, a tool for sweeps ratings and contract negotiations, its consequences largely undone by a contrived “near-retcon” within months. In Game of Thrones, the Red Wedding was a true pivot point, a narrative cataclysm that permanently removed characters perceived as the series’ bedrock. Their absence created a void the show struggled to fill with diminishing success as it lurched towards its own controversial conclusion.

The episode also became a landmark case study in the power and pitfalls of the social media age. For the first time, a major televised moment was experienced through a dual lens: the unspoiled shock of the naïve viewer, and the grim, anticipatory dread of the book reader. This dynamic amplified the event’s cultural footprint but also exposed the limitations of modern connectivity, with many having the experience spoiled outright. Conversely, book fans filming the reactions of their unsuspecting friends inadvertently spawned an entire genre of online reaction videos, turning collective trauma into a peculiar form of participatory entertainment.

Technically, the episode is very good. David Nutter’s direction is steady and unflinching, the pacing a slow burn that erupts into controlled chaos. The production design sells the rustic opulence of the Twins, and the sound design—from the cheerful din of the feast to the sudden, stark silence—is impeccable. The acting is uniformly superb, but it is Michelle Fairley who delivers a career-defining, devastating performance in her final moments, conveying Catelyn’s dawning horror, maternal desperation, and ultimate desolation with raw, unforgettable power.

The script, however, takes a significant and debatable liberty with Martin’s text. In the novels, Robb’s wife is Jeyne Westerling, who survives the wedding and is possibly carrying his heir—a sliver of hope amidst the ruin. The show invents Talisa Maegyr, a more proactive and visible character, and has her brutally murdered, pregnant, at the feast. This alteration renders the television Red Wedding even more brutally final and nihilistic than its literary counterpart. While undeniably effective in the moment, this choice can be viewed in retrospect as a precursor to the show’s later tendency towards “shock for shock’s sake,” a narrative cruelty that would eventually contribute to the series’ creative decline.

Ultimately, The Rains of Castamere marks the definitive end of House Stark as a major political force in Westeros. In a strange karmic reckoning, this downfall is catalysed by Catelyn Tully herself, whose rash capture of Tyrion Lannister in Season 1 lit the fuse of the war. Her final act—the pointless murder of the innocent Joyeuse—is perfectly in character: a violent, emotional gesture born of love and despair, utterly futile in the face of cold, calculated realpolitik. The episode leaves us with the harrowing understanding that in this world, honour, love, and good intentions are not merely insufficient; they are often fatal. The Starks were our heroes, but after this episode there was no House Stark—only survivors. The Rains of Castamere is the show’s unimpeachable peak, a perfect storm of adaptation, execution, and cultural timing that television is unlikely to see again.

RATING: 8/10 (+++)

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I don't often write about what I have watched on TV and this isn't because I don't watch things, I definitely do. In fact, I probably spend too much time watching stupid crap when I should be outside on the beach exploring and taking advantage of the wonderful things that this part of the world has to offer.

My excuse: It's really hot outside and my dog gets lonely if I don't take her with me and she gets too hot if I do take her with me.

Anyway, the other day I was at a friend's pub and he mentioned that there was a 4 part Hulk Hogan documentary that just dropped on Netflix so I went home that same day and started watching it.

[src](https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/04/Hulk_Hogan__Real_American_n_S1_E1_00_42_24_05-3.jpg?w=1000&h=500&crop=1)

When I was a kid I really enjoyed wrestling. My friends were in the same boat with me and we would buy the wrestling magazines and tune in for mostly what would end up becoming WCW (the competitor to WWF-later WWE.) One of the things that myself and my friends had was a kind of loathing for the Hulk Hogan character. We were more fans of the 4-Horsemen and other bad guys. Very few of us had cable, if you are old enough to even know what saying that means, so the only news we ever really got about the WWF was from magazines whereas the WCW (then called NWA) matches were on "regular TV" a couple of times a week on TBS.

So while I was aware of the huge impact that Hogan had on wrestling as far as popularizing it was concerned, I don't think that as a kid that I ever even saw a full match of his.

As I got older I kind of started to fade away from wrestling but I would catch up with what was going on from time to time or maybe play a videogame where since I never bothered to learn the real controls I simply just hit buttons as fast as I could in the hopes that it was going to make some sort of move happen.

In all of those years that I wasn't really paying attention, Hulk Hogan kept right on going at it and staying in the limelight for a long period of time. During all of a lot of this though, the internet was kind of in its beginning stages so I didn't really have any idea, until I watched this documentary, that Hogan was having a ton of problems in his personal life that I think most people are aware of today.

When he popped up in some rally for Donald Trump a few years ago my first reaction was "that guy is still alive?"

well it would turn out that he wouldn't be alive for much longer as this documentary points out in the opening scenes of the first episode where his funeral is taking place.

[src](https://resizing.flixster.com/ZCTmhXk1DuzRMbnD6_E2lIeojTU=/375x210/v2/https://statcdn.fandango.com/MPX/image/NBCU_Fandango/867/82/thumb_9370841A-663A-4D7E-9A71-DA40FA362157.jpg)

I think there are a lot of people that really don't like Hogan now but I believe that much of this has to do with him getting involved in a political sense towards the end of his life. I didn't like the Hulk Hogan character because I was a fan of the bad guys or heels and Hogan spent most of his career being the direct opposite of that. He was always not just a good guy, but the goodest good guy.

While I was watching this documentary I recall a lot of the things like the "say your prayers, eat your vitamins, be good to your parents" sort of stuff he would shout during his promos.

I kind of learned a lot about the guy watching this that I kind of missed all of due to one, not having cable as a kid, and then later because I was in college and other things occupied my time and then even later because I had a job and then even later later because I moved to Thailand and lived in a jungle house that didn't even have an internet connection. It's a strange life that I have lead.

[src](https://subversiverabbit.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/04/Hulk-Hogan-Real-American-2026-Documentary-Scene-18.jpg)

I don't know if this documentary is really going to surprise that many people like when they do the rather soft and kind expose into steroid use and how he cheated on his wife. I don't know how naive a person would have to be in order to not just assume both of these things but apparently you have to be a great deal more naive than I am. Of course he was doing both of these things and it is not a surprise at all to have the man himself admit it for a 4-part special.

A learned a lot about him and his life during all of this that I wasn't privy to when I was growing up such as the fact that in the beginning, even though he was friggin everywhere in adverts, cartoons, merchandising, and films, the guy wasn't making very much money because there wasn't a lot of money in wrestling until around the 90's. They do a whole portion of the show about how the first Wrestlemania involved a lot of people betting everything they have and then a bunch of borrowed money on this event being a hit. Now it is one of the biggest "sporting" events that takes place in the world and WWE, despite being a product that everyone other than little kids already knows is scripted, manages to make just crazy amounts of money every year.

If you were a fan of wrestling then or now I think you will really enjoy this special. I had to cut myself off at midnight when the 2nd episode was over because I knew that I would just binge all the way to the end to the detriment of my own sleep schedule.

There are interviews with basically anyone involved in wrestling and a lot of people that are not including Trump himself. Basically, if the person is still alive, they likely have something to say about Terry "Hulk" Hogan.

This is available on Netflix right now and I think most people have a Netflix subscription, right?

It's a kind of tragic tale but at least they get that out of the way right at the start since they begin the entire thing at the guy's funeral. The really cool thing about the filming is that they spent the time to do a lot of these interviews the year before he died and this says to me that nobody even knew the guy was sick. This was meant to be released while he was still alive perhaps?

Whatever the reasoning is there, I thoroughly enjoyed this and think you will as well.