Adventuring Home
When did we turn even our dreams inside?

We all look back with a certain nostalgia at the summer afternoons of our childhood, biking off into the woods or off to the park with our buddies to play until Mom's call drifted across the way to bring us home for dinner. In today's protective times, we can't do that. Our children are not allowed even a tiny fraction of the freedoms we enjoyed. Families are fragmented, with extended families spread all across the continent and parents working and divorcing. In ever-larger numbers, our children are caged tightly by limits, but floating in a sea of uncertainties and ever-growing responsibility with fewer and fewer guides to show them the way as they grow.

It shows up in many areas, but perhaps nowhere so telling as our literature. Our stories are no longer about going off to find adventure in the great beyond and the next great discovery, but finding out how to fix our problems and somehow come to a place that feels like they belong.

Disney's film "Treasure Planet" is a great example of what I'm talking about, particularly because it straddles both sorts of stories. It's original text by Robert Louis Stephenson is a coming-of-age story with a young man going out in the world to make his fortune and forge his own path. He's just trying to grow up by the lights of the time. The new version is a troubled young man who goes off trying to find a solution to his problems so he can find a path for his life and a way to get home.

The main character, Jim, could have been filmed at my house. Both my sons (but particularly my younger) have that awkward set to their limbs and those questioning eyes that seem to personify a young man trying to figure out how to be a grown man in this day and age. I have seen that eyes-closed look of bliss and heard that yell of triumph as they land some insane thing on a skateboard, and that bright-eyed grin covered in dirty grease coming out from under the hood of a car. I also see those sullen, shadowed eyes and hang-dog shoulders when they've done wrong and know it or when they're forced to do something. Particularly when the younger has decided for whatever reason that he's not good enough and gives up.

This isn't the only film, though. Look back at the recent history of family cinema. "Holes", "Secondhand Lions", "Finding Nemo", and even "Lilo and Stitch" are all stories of young men (or young blue aliens) trying to find ways to straighten things out and fit in. Even the X-men and other comics contain a strong subtext of trying to fit in, and youth-oriented books are the same. Mr. Potter is only a broom-length in front of Artemis Fowl and Lemony Snicket.

The kids feel the lack, too. We saw Treasure Planet in the theater. As we were walking back out the car, my eldest turned to me and said, "Well Mom, I guess all you need now is a couple old cyborgs with boats." We laughed, but the truth of it really has stuck with me in the year or more since then. The fashion of sending boys off to learn a trade has been replaced with macrameing them to the couch in the house alone or placing them behind a counter in a paper hat. Then they turn 18 and they are supposed to magically know what to do with themselves and like it.

What do we tell them? How do we help them find their way? So many of us are still trying to find a way home ourselves. I don't know. All I know is I'm running out of time.

Adventuring Home
When did we turn even our dreams inside?

We all look back with a certain nostalgia at the summer afternoons of our childhood, biking off into the woods or off to the park with our buddies to play until Mom's call drifted across the way to bring us home for dinner. In today's protective times, we can't do that. Our children are not allowed even a tiny fraction of the freedoms we enjoyed. Families are fragmented, with extended families spread all across the continent and parents working and divorcing. In ever-larger numbers, our children are caged tightly by limits, but floating in a sea of uncertainties and ever-growing responsibility with fewer and fewer guides to show them the way as they grow.

It shows up in many areas, but perhaps nowhere so telling as our literature. Our stories are no longer about going off to find adventure in the great beyond and the next great discovery, but finding out how to fix our problems and somehow come to a place that feels like they belong.

Disney's film "Treasure Planet" is a great example of what I'm talking about, particularly because it straddles both sorts of stories. It's original text by Robert Louis Stephenson is a coming-of-age story with a young man going out in the world to make his fortune and forge his own path. He's just trying to grow up by the lights of the time. The new version is a troubled young man who goes off trying to find a solution to his problems so he can find a path for his life and a way to get home.

The main character, Jim, could have been filmed at my house. Both my sons (but particularly my younger) have that awkward set to their limbs and those questioning eyes that seem to personify a young man trying to figure out how to be a grown man in this day and age. I have seen that eyes-closed look of bliss and heard that yell of triumph as they land some insane thing on a skateboard, and that bright-eyed grin covered in dirty grease coming out from under the hood of a car. I also see those sullen, shadowed eyes and hang-dog shoulders when they've done wrong and know it or when they're forced to do something. Particularly when the younger has decided for whatever reason that he's not good enough and gives up.

This isn't the only film, though. Look back at the recent history of family cinema. "Holes", "Secondhand Lions", "Finding Nemo", and even "Lilo and Stitch" are all stories of young men (or young blue aliens) trying to find ways to straighten things out and fit in. Even the X-men and other comics contain a strong subtext of trying to fit in, and youth-oriented books are the same. Mr. Potter is only a broom-length in front of Artemis Fowl and Lemony Snicket.

The kids feel the lack, too. We saw Treasure Planet in the theater. As we were walking back out the car, my eldest turned to me and said, "Well Mom, I guess all you need now is a couple old cyborgs with boats." We laughed, but the truth of it really has stuck with me in the year or more since then. The fashion of sending boys off to learn a trade has been replaced with macrameing them to the couch in the house alone or placing them behind a counter in a paper hat. Then they turn 18 and they are supposed to magically know what to do with themselves and like it.

What do we tell them? How do we help them find their way? So many of us are still trying to find a way home ourselves. I don't know. All I know is I'm running out of time.

Adventuring Home
When did we turn even our dreams inside?

We all look back with a certain nostalgia at the summer afternoons of our childhood, biking off into the woods or off to the park with our buddies to play until Mom's call drifted across the way to bring us home for dinner. In today's protective times, we can't do that. Our children are not allowed even a tiny fraction of the freedoms we enjoyed. Families are fragmented, with extended families spread all across the continent and parents working and divorcing. In ever-larger numbers, our children are caged tightly by limits, but floating in a sea of uncertainties and ever-growing responsibility with fewer and fewer guides to show them the way as they grow.

It shows up in many areas, but perhaps nowhere so telling as our literature. Our stories are no longer about going off to find adventure in the great beyond and the next great discovery, but finding out how to fix our problems and somehow come to a place that feels like they belong.

Disney's film "Treasure Planet" is a great example of what I'm talking about, particularly because it straddles both sorts of stories. It's original text by Robert Louis Stephenson is a coming-of-age story with a young man going out in the world to make his fortune and forge his own path. He's just trying to grow up by the lights of the time. The new version is a troubled young man who goes off trying to find a solution to his problems so he can find a path for his life and a way to get home.

The main character, Jim, could have been filmed at my house. Both my sons (but particularly my younger) have that awkward set to their limbs and those questioning eyes that seem to personify a young man trying to figure out how to be a grown man in this day and age. I have seen that eyes-closed look of bliss and heard that yell of triumph as they land some insane thing on a skateboard, and that bright-eyed grin covered in dirty grease coming out from under the hood of a car. I also see those sullen, shadowed eyes and hang-dog shoulders when they've done wrong and know it or when they're forced to do something. Particularly when the younger has decided for whatever reason that he's not good enough and gives up.

This isn't the only film, though. Look back at the recent history of family cinema. "Holes", "Secondhand Lions", "Finding Nemo", and even "Lilo and Stitch" are all stories of young men (or young blue aliens) trying to find ways to straighten things out and fit in. Even the X-men and other comics contain a strong subtext of trying to fit in, and youth-oriented books are the same. Mr. Potter is only a broom-length in front of Artemis Fowl and Lemony Snicket.

The kids feel the lack, too. We saw Treasure Planet in the theater. As we were walking back out the car, my eldest turned to me and said, "Well Mom, I guess all you need now is a couple old cyborgs with boats." We laughed, but the truth of it really has stuck with me in the year or more since then. The fashion of sending boys off to learn a trade has been replaced with macrameing them to the couch in the house alone or placing them behind a counter in a paper hat. Then they turn 18 and they are supposed to magically know what to do with themselves and like it.

What do we tell them? How do we help them find their way? So many of us are still trying to find a way home ourselves. I don't know. All I know is I'm running out of time.

Futurama for Xbox, PS2
Show canceled, but not forgotten...
Originally posted on Gamerdad.

Professor Farnsworth has sold Planet Express to Mom, unfortunately giving her a majority share of the entire Earth. Early indications are she isn't going to be a laissez-faire type of leader. Our cel-shaded heroes must stop her robot armies from taking over the world by taking back their ship before it's too late.

Futurama was created for fans of the show and for these folks, it's going to be a fun ride. There is no explanation of the world and why things are this way, and no help to anyone who hasn't watched the show. On the other hand, when you've finished the game, the cut scenes and story are a new episode all on their own. They kept the darkly funny and disturbing wit of Matt Groening, and by using the voices from the TV show they kept that essential connection to the rest of the character. There are enough zingers and one-liners to fill a rim shot factory.

This one isn't the typical kiddie platform hide-and-seek game. There is a lot of combat, and quite a few places where you end up dead from just the tiniest miss-step. Luckily, the Professor's Reanimator (looks like a giant toaster in the first level) will bring you back a limited amount of times. The save system is really draconian, though. You re-spawn at your last completed checkpoint. Checkpoints can be quite a ways from each other, and you can only save at the end of levels.

Once you get to the battle, there is good variety in the action with the three playable characters (I don't count Dr. Zoidberg - I watched one of the kids play him and that was enough for me). Fry is armed and deadly, Bender's Butt- Slam and Super-Spin attacks knock 'em out, and Leela's deadly combos just knock 'em dead. (Sorry - channeling my inner marketer or something.) Lots of fun, but it does get quite hairy in spots - make sure you learn to deal with the camera system effectively because your opponents love to lurk around corners.

Even with all this witty goodness there's still trouble. It is the technical side that bites us. The game is filled with technical and graphic problems. The gameplay is cookie-cutter platform fare that doesn't shine on it's own, and with the tarnish of the other issues it is doubly deadly. The engine is riddled with poor collision detection and clipping problems. The control system is hit and miss, with the emphasis on miss. The graphics are very simple, even for a translated cartoon. It wouldn't be so bad, but you never see it in the performance; we never hit a solid 60 fps, and struggle with 30 in places. For a cel-shaded game that is just substandard in this day and age. And even the fact that this is a never-before-seen Futurama episode hardly makes up for the shortness of the game (10 hours or less for my gang, 5-6 hours for a grown-up with solid FPS skills).

Kid Factor
If you've never watched this show, be prepared for some Simpsons-style humor, but even darker and more adult.

No real blood - when things die they just make a silly noise and fall over and fade away. Lots of icky stuff, though. I mean, Fry's heath power-up is Slurm, which are the secretions from a space worm sold in cans like Coke.

It's the humor that is the biggest question mark in this one. Even the bad guys have smart mouths. Those incessant one-liners are straight out of the TV show, and they can be quite adult. For example, in the first sequence the Professor admits that he pawned the spare dark matter engine. When asked why, he says something along the lines of, "The same reason anyone in America pawns something - to get a gun!" My eyebrows went up on that one, and there were quite a few other places. In between each level there is a "commercial" from the show. These range from the darkly funny to the frankly sexual (the "Tri-curious?" one in between the first and second levels started a loooonnnnggg conversation at my house).

If you let your children watch the TV show, they won't hear anything out of their experience. If the show is on the no-no list, I'd be careful with this one. There are no real safe spots - it is all through the game. Personally, I'd stick with the rating on this one, if only to help avoid having to hear all that cleverness being parroted back to you over and over and over (or being demonstrated for your Mother). I finally had to start charging for imitations (at $6 a piece) to get mine to stop. As always, I suggest you play the game through before letting them get their hands on it.

Reviewer Recommended Ages: 13+
ESRB: T for Teen - Comic Mischief, Suggestive Themes, and Violence
Publisher: Vivendi Universal and Fox Interactive
Developer: Unique Development Studios