The major differences between a real cat and the cat in Stray
Like, do video game makers even know cats??
I used to be into video games. Between the ages of about 6 to 12, I was addicted to Nintendo and all its succeeding consoles (SNES, N64). In sixth grade, I once faked sickness so I could stay home and play Donkey Kong Country. Still consider that one one of the best days of my life.
But then something changed around the time I turned 17. I had a job and was making disposable income, so I bought myself a PS2, eager to get back into the time-suck that defined my childhood. But regardless of how much I played GTA, Metal Gear Solid 2 and Silent Hill, none held my attention like the games of yore. Objectively, I knew the games were better, but my brain had changed. I had changed. At that stage in my life, I realized that video games just got in the way of taking naps and listening to music—my two favorite activities in high school (and now).
Since then, I’ve had little to no interest in video games. In fact—side note!—I’m of the opinion that a lot of society’s ills are caused by gaming. Not video games, per se, but popular gaming communities that foster bullying, homophobia, transphobia, racism, and tolerance toward violence. It’s like immersion training in casual cruelty. I’m not saying that everything awful today can be traced back to Gamergate, but I’m not not saying it.
So, no, I’m no gamer.
Or, at least I thought I wasn’t—until I learned about Stray.
If you somehow avoided the viral hysteria that followed the game’s release last week, here’s the gist of Stray: you play as a cat. That’s pretty much it. I mean, yeah, there’s a story—something about being separated from your family and having to navigate a noirish, post-apocalyptic world filled with humanoid robots with computer monitor faces, but that’s not the point. The point is you play as a cat. A cat!
CAT!
There is nothing more tailored for the internet (and me) than Stray. If you could somehow peel away the pixelated layers of the web, all the TikToks, hot takes, listicles, NFTs, Jeff Bezoses—at the center it all would be our humming, collective yearning to be a cat. And Stray grants that wish. You have the ability to scratch surfaces, knock shit over, and walk on computer keyboards. There’s even fucking “meow” button. Why would you even want to play through the story when you can just make that little guy meow all day?
Trying really hard not to come off as unhinged when describing the game, but I’ve also lived with cats for a long time and am acutely aware that the effects of toxoplasmosis have made me an insufferable Cat PersonTM. So imagine me whispering “yes, yes, yes, perfect” myself whenever the cat in the game does something catlike. “Oh, the little guy is sleepy,” I report, in my hushed voice, to no one.
But what’s perhaps even stranger than my intimate obsession is the fact that I haven’t actually played the game. I’m not going to buy a Playstation just to play a cat game—who am I, Lorenzo di Medici?—so I watch hours upon hours of gameplay videos on Youtube.
There’s me in my office, sitting slope-shouldered, drool leaking from the corners of my mouth, watching someone else pilot the little kitty. Or there’s me late at night, tipsy on a few IPAs, projecting gameplay videos on the TV. Or there’s me, curled up in bed, playing Stray vids on my phone, falling asleep to the sound of a stranger smashing that meow button.
After so many hours of gameplay videos, however, I began to notice some egregious inaccuracies with how the cat in the game behaves. Is it artistic license? Or just plain ignorance? Whatever the case, I figured I’d dissect Stray’s biggest flaws.
1. The cat doesn’t lowkey hate you
We all unconditionally love our cats. But if you think that feeling is reciprocal, you’re naive! Yes, your cat will cuddle you and purr during chin-scratches, but deep down, it resents you. Why? Who knows? To ask that question is to study the history of human-cat relationships, and also psychoanalyze why we love things that are bad for us—which, frankly, is a truth I don’t want to face. But as far as the cat in Stray, it seems to be pretty respectful toward you.
2. There’s little-to-no barf in the game
Cat owners know the sound. It’s like a nauseating EDM beat—thick and pulsing. You hear it right before you’re about to fall asleep, echoing out from somewhere in the house. The sound is a cat puking up its food, something it shouldn’t have chewed on, or simply horking up a hairball. It’s your animal’s little present for you to find later. Maybe you’ll step on it in the morning, or maybe you won’t find it for weeks, and then voila! (You didn’t like those decorative pillows anyway). Barfing is standard cat behavior, yet, as far as I know, there’s zero puke in Stray. Like, do the game developers even know cats?
3. It can tolerate wearing a vest
In Stray, your cat befriends a helper robot, which travels around with you in a little vest. After donning it, there are a few seconds where the cat walks around hunched, tentative about its new accessory, but the cat quickly grows accustomed to it and keeps the vest on for the rest of the game. “Bullshit,” I say. I know some cats wear harnesses, but the majority would just lie down until someone removed the vest.
4. It doesn’t piss on things out of retaliation
If Stray were true to life, the cat would wiggle out of the vest and then piss on it.
5. You can control the cat
Finally, Stray requires the biggest suspension of disbelief in the history of media arts, in that you can actually control a cat. Have you ever tried to tell a cat to do anything? Have you ever tried to scold it for being bad? They just look at you with big “fuck you” eyes and fall back to sleep. You might as well lasso water. It’s pure fantasy, and exactly why the game is so appealing. For a few brief moments, we—humans—are in charge! We control when it scratches, when it eats, when it sleeps. It’s almost like you’re a true person with actual agency while playing this game. Remember how that feels, fellow cat owners? These moments are indeed blissful, but when the game’s over, it’s back to submission for you, human buddy.
UPDATE ON SADISTIC SUMMER BOOK CLUB
I’ve decided to postpone the Sadistic Summer Book Club in order to tweak some things. The new start will be Monday, August 8th, so that gives you a few more weeks to grab a copy of We Eat Our Own by Kea Wilson. Pick it up ASAP!
A few more things:
· I’m excited to partner with The Book Catapult, who agreed to stock copies of the book. I believe they will be available this week, so if you live in San Diego, I highly recommend you drop in and support a local bookeria. They do great work over at Book Catapult, and I’m stoked to have them in on this.
· I’m making Sadistic Summer more book-focused because I was sensing some hesitation from people who don’t want to watch Cannibal Holocaust. I may host a virtual screening of the film if there’s interest, but just know that I’ll provide enough background knowledge about the film —and how it relates to the novel—without forcing anyone to sit through it.
· The format of the class will be mostly virtual and asynchronous, meaning you can go at your own pace. I’ll be using Google Classroom to post the reading schedule, optional discussion topics, for-fun assignments, and additional reading if you choose to dig deeper. I’d also love to host an in-person discussion group if people are interested.
· Finally, and most importantly, it’s now free for everyone to participate, regardless of AWKSD subscription status. Tell your friends! I do ask that everyone please still sign up through Eventbrite, which will help me keep track of email addresses and participants.
Thank you, I hope you join us!
AWKSD GUEST LIST
The Guest List gives AWKSD subscribers the opportunity to see live music for free. Just reply to this email and let me know which show you want to see, and I’ll hook you and a friend up.
Wednesday, July 27
The Dream Syndicate (The Days of Wine and Roses 40th Anniversary) @ Soda Bar: The Dream Syndicate riiiips. With the release of 1982’s The Days of Wine and Roses, the LA band fused psyche, shoegaze and punk rock. It’s a quintessentially Californian sound that paved the way for acts like Mazzy Star and The Bangles.
Thursday, July 28
The Rumours, Kilfeather, Silent Vice, Deathboys @ Til-Two Club: Pretty sure someone found a time machine and transported The Rumours from late ‘80s Sunset Strip to present time. Their ‘tude is amazing, and I feel sorry for anybody who crosses them.
Friday, July 29
The Cramp’d, The Humblers, Cut Rate Druggist @ Til-Two Club @ Actually, this show is off the table, because I’ve never seen San Diego’s premier Cramps tribute band, so I’m calling dibs on these tickets. But you should go, too.
Saturday, July 30
Kushtaka, EYE, Parasitic Existence @ Til-Two Club: According to legend, the Kushtaka is a shapeshifting monster that will lure you into the woods and tear you to pieces. No wonder San Diego metal band landed on that for their namesake: it shreds.
Sunday, July 31
The Jack Moves, Weapons of Mass Creation @ Soda Bar: Damn. I can’t imagine there will be a dry article of clothing at Soda Bar after this throwback funk, soul, R&B show (if you know what I mean [and I think you do]).
Generation Decline, Azijin Pisser, Rival Squad, Death By Beer @ Til-Two Club: Hardcore crust band Generation Decline doesn’t mess around when it comes to scathing indictments. For socially conscious folx who who still want to fuck up the pit, this is type of music is gospel.
Monday, August 1
Roselit Bone, Mary Simich, Ocelot & the 8balls, Scotty Bones @ Til-Two Club: Roselit Bone play beautiful, old-school country, like before the genre became pop with stupid twangy vocals. It’s definitely the type of music you’d want to listen to while crying in your Miller Lite.
Got a tip or wanna say hi? Email me at ryancraigbradford@gmail.com, or follow me on Twitter @theryanbradford. And if you like what you’ve just read, please hit that little heart icon at the end of the post.