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SFYou: Diana Chan: food blogger, mom, wife, and entrepreneur

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Photo courtesy of Diana Chan.

Written by Sara Wong, Peak Associate

Name: Diana Chan

Pronouns: She/her/hers

Occupation: Entrepreneur/Blogger/UX Consultant/Mom/Wife

Hometown: Burnaby, BC

Fun fact: During her university years, Diana used to be a party clown for children’s birthday parties

You may know Diana Chan already as one of Vancouver’s OG food bloggers and social media influencers. She’s the woman behind foodology.ca, an award-winning blog, and her Instagram account @foodologyca currently has 22,000+ followers. 

As a food blogger myself, Chan is someone I constantly look up to. She’s one of the kindest foodies I have had the pleasure of meeting, and the dedication she puts into connecting with others online never ceases to amaze me. Recently, I had a conversation with Chan on how her life has evolved since launching Foodology, and what blogging means to her now.

Foodology began in 2010, while Chan was a business administration student at SFU. 

“I was eating out a lot and I thought I should start blogging to archive everything I ate. I started it as a passion project so I could have something to look forward to outside the dreaded accounting and finance courses,” she shared in an email interview with The Peak.

Prior to my interview with Chan, I was under the impression that her present career was solely food blogging. However, she soon clarified: “I continue to run Foodology as a hobby to balance my full[-]time job as a User Experience Consultant at a local financial institution. I never wanted to blog for a full[-]time job as I am afraid I will lose that spark of joy [ . . . ] I love wearing many different hats as I can grow professionally and personally at the same time.” 

This past year, she added another hat to her collection: entrepreneur. 

Pajeon Pals is an online clothing store that celebrates Korean food and drink in its designs. The brand’s name is inspired by Chan’s daughter, as pajeon (AKA a Korean-style green onion pancake) is her daughter’s favourite food. 

“During the start of the pandemic, I was on maternity leave and I was really missing that spark of creativity,” Chan began. “I was trying to buy some clothing for my daughter and I realized there wasn’t anyone creating clothing inspired by Korean food. People love K-Pop, K-dramas, and eating Korean food, yet there wasn’t any clothing to match. That’s when it clicked!”

Chan didn’t hesitate to start her entrepreneurial journey. With her experience in design and marketing as a blogger and UX consultant, she was ready to go. 

“I got to work every night to create Pajeon Pals Clothing after the little one went to bed,” she said. “I’ve always been interested in creating apparel for Foodology [ . . . ] the ideal just morphed.” 

Despite launching Pajeon Pals during a pandemic, Chan reports that her business has not been affected. 

“During peak holidays like Christmas, I can anticipate shipping to be slightly delayed. But, it’s a similar situation for everyone in the industry,” she added. The growing entrepreneur concluded this statement with a message for consumers: “Make sure to shop ahead if you’re supporting local small businesses!”

Speaking of small businesses, I asked Chan for her current food recommendation. I was expecting to hear about a restaurant, but she surprised me by mentioning Gary’s Patisserie, which operates out of a commissary kitchen. 

“[His] mango cakes are so damn good,” she raved in her response. “I love asian cakes and he doesn’t skimp on the mangoes.” 

If you’re suddenly craving mango cake (like I am), check out the FAQ page of Gary’s website (garypatisserie.com) for pickup and delivery details.

There are so many influencers on social media nowadays. Yet, an increasing number of young adults aspire to become “Instafamous.” But being a successful “content creator” is no longer simply about highlighting what’s trending. People also want to see originality and individuality. That is essentially the message behind Chan’s advice for those wanting to grow their brand. 

“Keep at it, don’t compare yourself with others, and never take feedback too seriously when it comes to the online world. Create content that you’re proud of! Everyone has their own style about how they show up on social media. I’ve had my fair share of disagreements and strongly worded comments and emails directed at me. I’m a Libra and I hate confrontation, so I always thank them for their comments and I have to remind myself to always stay humble.”

Negative comments aside, Chan tells me that working on Foodology and Pajeon Pals is what she likes to do to relax and unwind. 

“It’s strange but it’s true. I barely watch any movies anymore as I get impatient and will Google the ending. hahaha. I love spoilers,” she wrote. 

To further emphasize the amount of time Chan devotes to her occupations, here’s how she outlines a typical day in her life:

6:30 a.m.: Wake up

7:00 a.m.: Breakfast and check social media

8:00 a.m.: Kid off to daycare and I do some Foodology and Pajeon Pals work

9:00 a.m.: My full-time job begins [. . .] Mostly meetings and emails

12:00 p.m.: Netflix and [l]unch

1:00 p.m.: More meetings and emails

5:00 p.m.: Work ends and grabs kid from daycare

6:00 p.m.: Dinner [t]ime

8:00 p.m.: Put kid to bed

8:30 p.m.: Foodology and Pajeon Pals work 

11:00 p.m.: Sleep

Chan attributes her time at SFU to developing her diligent personality, work ethic, and how she maintains her drive.

“When I was at SFU, I was heavily involved in student clubs and extracurriculars. It kept me really busy and it really enabled me to multi-task very well. At one point, I spent more time planning events than I actually spent on studying.” 

Besides her involvement in student life, Chan also points to her co-op terms, of which she did several. 

“Being in a corporate setting during my time at SFU really made the transition to [the] working world easier. It took me a little bit longer to graduate but it was worth it.”

As for what inspires her to stay motivated when facing numerous tasks? “Being a blogger[,] you need to hustle,” declared Chan.

SFU professor discusses grounding cross-cultural research ethically

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Written by: Kelly Chia, Peak Associate 

SFU psychology professor Tanya Broesch is studying the ethical and scientific challenges of studying human populations. Her desire for this research came after noticing that social scientists were increasingly asked to collect data beyond Western, educated, industrialized, rich and democratic (WEIRD) populations. Broesch’s work guides researchers to a community-centred approach across disciplines in the broader scientific community. Her paper, “Navigating cross-cultural research: methodological and ethical considerations,” was published earlier this year. 

Broesch and her researchers note that many of the non-WEIRD communities who participate in research are “Indigenous, from low and middle-income countries in the Global South, live in post-colonial contexts, and/or are marginalized within their political systems, creating power differentials between researchers and the researched.” They argue that grounding cross-cultural research in understanding historical and social contexts make for more ethical, and better research overall. 

The Peak spoke with Broesch over email for more information on her work.

Like many other researchers who have established long-term research relationships with communities, I often get requests to send students for a short period of time and ‘extract’ data by using one single method to understand a complex behaviour. There are several ethical and scientific problems with this approach, also referred to as ‘helicopter researcher,’” Broesch explains. Helicopter researcher refers to researchers who come to unfamiliar cultures to study them quickly without much regard for the communities that participate. 

This approach can further contribute to the gap between researchers and what’s researched, as researchers can make inaccurate inferences on the communities they study by being too hasty, according to Broesch. “Too often communities are exoticised and this creates an ‘us’/‘them’ perspective that emphasizes the differences.” 

Broesch and her team propose that cross-cultural research should implement three things: a careful study of the site that the research takes place, constant consultation with participating communities, and culturally appropriate practices. This approach allows for researchers to include the communities they study in their projects appropriately.

Broesch emphasizes that researchers must understand that people don’t operate in isolation, and understanding that betters research work. “[Communities] are instead, heavily influenced by the sociopolitical and historical climate of the community in which they live. If you recognize this as you study psychology, it can help formulate research questions that also take experience and context into consideration. I can’t think of any subfield in psychology that would not benefit from this approach,” she says.

“I hope that SFU students who work with human participants or are planning to do research with humans [ . . . ] take our considerations seriously. While some of the problems we outline are unique to cross-cultural research, some are not. For example, we discuss the importance of doing community-engaged and community-led research. This is a challenging endeavour for many social scientists, but there are models out there that can help us make baby steps toward this end goal,” Broesch concluded.

Broesch’s paper is published by The Royal Society, and can be read here. 

SFU’s Restorative Justice Certificate launches for 2021

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PHOTO: Toa Heftiba / Unsplash

Written by Emma Jean, Staff Writer

SFU’s continuing studies department hosted an online launch on October 20 for their online Restorative Justice Certificate, which will be running again during the 2021 academic year. The year-long program, beginning in late January, is designed to be part-time and consists of three courses — each course being 13 weeks long. 

Hosted by SFU continuing studies, the launch event highlighted the principles of resolving conflict that restorative justice philosophy revolves around. These included conversation between the victim, the offender, and those around them, and its application to many different facets of life. The objectives laid out in the launch discuss community building through mediation, group discussion circles, and other exercises to help individuals involved in conflict find solutions and closure.  

During the presentation, the presenters — a mix of instructors and graduates of the program —  explained the goal of applying the principles of restorative justice to each student’s individual workplace and life. They also note that, while restorative justice is often thought of in the context of law enforcement as an alternative to the colonial justice system, the skills are just as applicable to medicine, community-building, businesses, education, nonprofits, and elsewhere. The session also clarified that while restorative justice is a field, it is much more a practice and a perspective for dealing with conflict that can be applied to personal and professional experiences. 

“Rather than focusing on the problem, focusing on the relationships that are happening and the breakdown that [led to the problem], and how those can be restored and transformed,” said Melissa, a graduate of the program. “It sounds simple, but it’s something that’s really shifted my whole way of thinking and interacting with the world.”

The program is done through the continuing studies department of SFU, meaning there are no prerequisites required to enroll in the program; the academic nature of theory means that previous post-secondary experience is suggested, however. 

Applicants are admitted based on previous applicable experience, education, and interest. Because of the part-time nature of the program, the launch estimates that the weekly commitment to the material is 10 hours at the most, and all payments are done on a course-by-course basis. Most of the material is also done asynchronously, with the occasional optional synchronous meeting to speak with instructors and cohorts. Crystal Glowatski, an instructor of the course, notes that students wish to try out the program without committing, they are encouraged to take RJ 315 as an introductory course to see what they think. 

If potential applicants are interested, they can apply to the program online by December 16 to be considered for the 2021 program year. Seats are limited. 

The case of the missing EIC

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ILLUSTRATION: Tiffany Chan / The Peak

By: Paige Riding and Sara Wong

It was a dark and stormy night . . . no, no clichés here. This is just a public roast of our boss and us getting away with it — although, our story does begin at SFU, where the only “comprehensive” aspect about it is how wholly it destroys a student’s excitement to learn. Now that’s dark.

Anyway! Our story starts with a walk around the AQ when we stumbled across three free Renaissance Coffee coupons! Interesting. Why someone would let go of the Holy Grail of SFU coffee deals was beyond us, but nothing makes sense in this world anyway, so why not enjoy a cheeky little coffee.

On the way to the café, we texted Marco, The Peak’s Editor-in-Chief and resident iced coffee aficionado (yes, he looks exactly how you think someone with this title would look, thanks for asking). 

Sugar-free or regular vanilla syrup?” said the message left on read. In any other scenario, no one on planet Earth would be surprised that Marco didn’t take three seconds to respond to a message; however, Marco not replying to a message about iced coffee, one of his self-proclaimed personality traits (we let this guy run our paper?), was more questionable than the people who don’t just pick up a copy of this paper for the crossword.

Naturally, the first place to check was Marco’s office, where we’d likely find him hunched up listening to the same three Wallows songs on a loop while he desperately searched for pitch ideas. When we headed there, though, the place was empty. No Marcos here. If not here . . . then where?

“Do you two work here?” a voice murmured behind us. We whipped around.

In front of us stood our natural enemy: a smart-looking student in a UBC hoodie. 

“I work at The Ubyssey,” began the student. God, they really were our nemesis. “I wanted to speak with your EIC, but I see Marco isn’t here.”

We turn to each other. Convenient . . . The only other person in the office happens to be a person who wouldn’t mind if Marco and The Peak fell. UBC already has a relatively construction-free campus and like a billion students. Let us have something, please.

“Anyway,” the UBC student said warily as they noticed our passive-aggressive glares, “I was just visiting your campus with a coworker to report on SFU’s construction during the pandemic. Your Student Union Building is finally done, huh?” the student half-smiled, then turned to leave. “If you manage to find your EIC, please let him know we were looking for him. Thanks.”

The UBC student sashayed away. Remembering why we were in Marco’s office, we began looking for clues that would point to his whereabouts. There was nothing out of place, unless you count a giant framed copy of The Peak Fall 2019, Issue 10, which features Marco on the front cover — but us Peak employees are used to this type of shit, anyway. 

“There’s nothing on the computer. I guess it’s time to look elsewhere?”

“Yeah . . . hey, does this picture stick out to you?”

“It’s a blown-up picture of Marco’s face. What do you think?”

“No, I mean yes it stands out, but what I’m trying to say is that the gap between the frame and the wall seems . . . off.”

We removed the picture from the wall to discover the mouth of a tunnel, lined along the edges with mini potted plants that stretch into the distance as far as the eye can see. That can only mean one thing . . . Marco must be nearby.

A few minutes later, we arrived on the other side of the tunnel, entering an empty room. Walking out of the open door, there was a straight path ahead of us, but also two more corridors veering off in different directions. The procession of plants had come to an abrupt halt. 

“M . . . Marco?”

“. . . Polo . . .” said a weak voice from further in. Of course this guy would make a pun during a time like this. We ran ahead, passing the plants from cameos in ~artsy~ Instagram stories and plants Marco spent more time caring for than the Opinions section he briefly covered. 

We soon found Marco trapped under huge vines, unable to move. Little Shop of Horrors is quaking. Shock? Fear? A single ounce of remorse for this plant-obsessed, Bleachers-stanning H&M employee reject? All we could say was . . .

“. . . Looks like we need a new EIC.”

SFU’s Katayoon Yousefbigloo awarded the Audain Travel Award

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Yousefbigloo aims to create art that engages her audience. Courtesy of Nima Gholamipour

By: Charlene Aviles, Peak Associate

Intrigued by the adaptation of technology to create interactive art, multi-talented artist, musician, and MFA student Katayoon Yousefbigloo hopes to use the $7,500 Audain Travel Award she recently received to do just that. The award, which normally funds art students’ excursions to see art, will instead fund full-time students’ art projects to adhere to travel restrictions associated with the COVID-19 pandemic.

During an interview with The Peak, Yousefbigloo expressed her gratitude for her award and her excitement for SFU’s MFA program. Due to the program’s interdisciplinary nature, she has the opportunity to explore different mediums and collaborate with other artists.

Yousefbigloo mentioned that she would like to learn more about virtual reality and adapt it to a gallery setting. She explained the innovative and interactive virtual reality project proposed in her application.

“I proposed a multi-channel video installation made up of four isolated videos that will be collaged together to make one immersive, augmented reality that can be viewed with a headset or on your phone.” 

Yousefbigloo’s project, while impressive, requires flexibility. She admitted that the project entails addressing and reducing the technological barriers of creating and experiencing the installation. 

The installation looks at how we historicize events through media by recreating an event pulled from John Brunner’s novel The Sheep Look Up in an immersive video experience. I’m exploring themes of transparency, digital authority, and how the fragmentation of time as a result of a constant access to a disembodied past has hindered our ability to clearly situate our current experience in historical terms.

Yousefbigloo contrasted virtual reality with other forms of traditional media and acknowledged virtual reality’s potential for the live performance component she is planning for her installation.

In contrast to traditional media that has “no sensory elements [and] no agency in it,” virtual reality is not confined to the same limits, enhancing artists’ creative freedom and audience interaction.

“The cool thing about augmented reality and immersive video is that there’s some kind of movement and some kind of interaction. That appeals more broadly in my practice [ . . . ] Having some kind of audience participation and having some kind of agency in the audience member [will help them] create a narrative and to create something of their own out of the art.”

Yousefbigloo takes a unique approach to art because she prefers to follow her interests by exploring different mediums. While she understands that there can be pressure for artists to pigeonhole themselves into one medium in order to corner a niche, she rejects the need for categories in her own work.

I don’t see myself as someone who fits into those institutional or the normal categories [ . . . ] that are made for artists [ . . . ] I think that if I want to leave one mark, it would be to [encourage others to] ‘Just [make] what you want and not what people want you to make.’

The Bright-er Side: A shoutout to stuck-at-home parental figures and guardians

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ILLUSTRATION: Siloam Yeung / The Peak

by Juztin Bello, Copy Editor

The other day I was in my “office” (my bedroom) getting some work done. I hadn’t realized that time had slipped away from me and knew I would be late getting started on making my dinner. When I left my room to head down to the kitchen, I ran into my mom in the hallway, who has been working from home since quarantine began. She looked at me with apologetic eyes as she made her way from the bathroom to her office, and she said: “Sorry son, I was going to start on dinner for you but I’m caught up in a lot of meetings.” 

I was confused. Why was she apologizing? There was nothing for her to apologize for, I totally understand having a lot on your plate. Plus, I tend to make my own dinner, why did she feel obligated to make dinner for me? But reflecting on this later, I realized that her remorse for her inability to prepare dinner due to her workload came from the duality of her household presence. Not only is she a worker, but, more importantly to me, she’s a mom — a mom who is caught between mixing her work and home life in the midst of a pandemic. 

This moment, while miniscule, really had me thinking about the various people out there who are forced to work from home and also have responsibilities in their respective households. Not to mention those like my dad who, for the benefit of our household, continues to travel to his job downtown as an essential worker while also coming home to cook, clean, and watch after the dogs. It is at this time of uncertainty and need for support we should look inward and appreciate the people working within or outside our bubbles who keep a brave face and maintain peace day-to-day. Whether this be pet owners who have to take meetings while their dogs bark in the background, parental figures and/or guardians trying to balance making meals with working their 9-to-5 from home, or people who tend to the needs of grandparents and others who may require assistance, these people are themselves pillars of resilience in this trying time.

Regardless of who may be looking out for you or if you’re in a situation where you have multiple obligations at home, take this time to recognize that all guardians deserve extra love and appreciation for how they’ve handled balancing work and home life during this pandemic.

Student believes they left last scrap of serotonin underneath the rainbow parachute in grade three gym class

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PHOTO: Bev / Pixabay

By: Kyla Dowling, SFU Student

I remember that day so clearly. 

Fourth period meant that it was time for gym class. Normally, I’d be nauseous from the anxiety of playing dodgeball against the eight-year-old Olympians, but our teacher opted to lead us outside, instead. Who needed our brand-new gymnasium that steered funds away from replacing our textbooks from 1967, anyway?

I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe we’d play Four Square, or “Slurp Tag,” a messed up version of tag where you had to lick your hand before tagging someone. Ah, what class. This was the beauty of pre-pandemic times: bonding via wiping your saliva on some kid’s shoulder. 

Ms. Williamson went to the supply closet that my third-grade boyfriend Dylan swore was haunted, and to everyone’s delight, she pulled out . . .

The coveted rainbow parachute. 

It was a marvellous invention. It was more beautiful than Sam from Totally Spies — which, if you knew how gay my eight-year old self was, says a lot.

“Grab a handle,” said Ms. Williamson, and we obliged, eager to take part in the blessed (cult?) ritual. We lifted it up and down, more synchronized than Mariah Carey lip-syncing on New Year’s Eve 2016 (which really isn’t that hard to do, but still.) Finally, we pulled it over our heads, settling underneath it. We blocked the world out and thrived underneath a nylon rainbow sky. 

That, my dear reader, was the last time I ever felt happy.

When we went inside for lunch afterwards, Dylan — my third-grade boyfriend, if you recall — immediately broke up with me. He dumped me in fear that holding hands would get me pregnant. That was the first incident in a miserable series of events, often headed by stupid men, that brought my cynical ass here today. Such events included: dating a guy who said he was a pilot but was really a sad stamp collector and then staying with him for three years, choking on a hotdog because I was trying to show off my deep-throating skills to a different guy, and getting high and writing a song you all should know but don’t called “Friday.” I’m coming for you, Rebecca Black. It should have been me who had a glamourously gay TikTok comeback.

Underneath that rainbow parachute was the last time I have ever felt an ounce of serotonin light up my sad, smooth brain. My therapist says that I’m “severely depressed” and “need to stop falling for toxic men just because they look vaguely like Owen Wilson, but specifically Owen Wilson when he was on That 70s Show because it was the only time he was ever attractive,” but I know the truth, Susan. One day I will return to Our Lady of Holy Trinity Saint Jesus Elementary School. I will find that rainbow parachute, and I will find happiness again. I wonder if Dylan is still hanging around there.

Site C Dam to reroute Peace River this fall

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Written by: Karissa Ketter, News Writer

BC Hydro recently announced that they are diverting Peace River this fall in the process of constructing the Site C Dam to meet BC’s growing energy demand.

As British Columbia’s population grows and “we see more and more vehicles switch from diesel and gasoline to electric, [there is going to be a] significant increase in the energy demand,” according to SFU Resource & Environmental Management professor Zafar Adeel. This demand for energy will be met by the construction of Site C. Upon completion it will provide energy to around 450,000 homes a year. 

COVID-19 caused the construction to be temporarily suspended. BC Hydro released a statement noting that the “delays have presented further cost pressures on the budget.” They resumed construction as of April 2020 and the Peace River diversion is “scheduled to take place in fall 2020 over a period of several weeks.” 

The Peak spoke with Adeel to discuss the environmental implications of the project. He explained that the construction began in 2015. Since then, there has been a set of permits issued to eradicate and relocate fish habitats and beaver dams, along with the capture of various amphibians. Relocating animals upsets the balance of the natural ecosystem in the place they’re taken from and where they are moved to. This can have major environmental consequences, such as going extinct, not being able to recover, or harming life in the area they are moved to.  

Opting for alternative renewable power is difficult and can be more costly than a hydroelectric dam, according to Adeel. Currently, 86% of BCs energy comes from hydroelectric power; alternative renewable power sources, such as wind power or biomass power, contributing a total of 8%. The preference for hydroelectric power can be explained by its flexibility: “Within literally a matter of minutes, you can switch on [additional hydroelectric] turbines to meet an expanded [energy demand]. However, “With wind power, with solar, you have to actually store the energy somewhere so that when the demand goes up you’re able to tap into it,” according to Adeel. Because of this, the capital cost to store energy can cause those alternatives to be too expensive. He concluded that hydropower remains the cheapest renewable source of power. 

Site C has a complicated history, according to Adeel. He noted that the environmental reviews done in 1983 by the BC Utilities Commission did not recommend the construction of Site C. In the early 1990s, construction was revisited once again by BC Hydro but decided that it was “environmentally unacceptable,” as noted by Adeel. In 2010, the BC legislature removed the BC Utilities Commission review.

Indigenous peoples have also noted that the construction project is “an infringement on [their Treaty Rights.” According to Raven Trust, an organization for Indigenous justice, “there are alternatives to Site C that do not infringe upon our Treaty Rights [or] destroy the Peace River Valley.”

Site C’s reservoir would submerge “old growth forests in the area that have to be removed.” This includes Indigenous land that includes culturally significant “heritage and archaeological sites,” according to Adeel. Some have noted that amongst the land remains Indigenous burial grounds, farmland, “and the last intact section of the Peace River Valley still available for Treaty 8 members to engage in traditional practices.” More specifically, the project would damage  “moose calving grounds, medicine harvesting and berry picking, and spiritual practices.” Indigenous activist Helen Knott expressed that by building the dam and destroying the way Indigenous peoples practice their culture, “[BC Hydro is] stealing from future generations, both Indigenous and non-Indigenous.” 

The Union of British Columbia Indian Chiefs expressed that “the federal and provincial governments acted irresponsibly when they granted approval for construction of the massively destructive dam.” They also stated that the United Nations condemned the construction and “and called for an immediate halt.”

Adeel noted BC Hydro’s decision to flood 128 kilometres of the Peace River, including “prime agricultural land” will severely impact the communities along the river. However, BC Hydro claims that over 13 Indigenous groups have “confirmed that they have been adequately consulted and accommodated,” according to a statement released in May 2018. 

Adeel added that there are many proposals to build dams elsewhere. For example, there is a proposal to discontinue the construction of Site C and opt for building 17 additional smaller power units on Bute Island that would produce around 1,000 megawatts, equal to Site C. BC Hydro maintains that the project would provide “the best combination of financial, technical, environmental, and economic development attributes for the amount of energy and dependable capacity.”

BC Hydro declined to comment.

The Crown Tundra revives hope for Pokémon’s immersive sense of adventure

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Sword & Shield's Crown Tundra was released on October 22 and might be a sign of their redemption. Courtesy of The Pokemon Company

By: Zach Siddiqui, Peak Associate

“Find me where the wild things are,” I hear myself quoting just minutes into the snowbound frontier of my latest digital adventure: Pokémon Sword and Shield’s most recent downloadable content (DLC), The Crown Tundra

Pokémon’s eighth generation of games has been controversial from the start. I myself have tilted back and forth in my stance on the current state of the franchise. Living out the adventures of the Tundra revitalized my excitement for future instalments. Part of that I owe to the DLC’s advertised selling points: Dynamax Adventures, quests for Legendary Pokémon, and an expanded Pokedex catalogue to fill. Yet these factors are just part of the greater sense of adventure that the DLC has channelled — a sense that has been somewhat absent from the Pokémon world lately. 

Wintry scenes abound in The Crown Tundra. Courtesy of The Pokemon Company

As novel as Sword and Shield was in some ways, and as fun as I found it on a first playthrough, I soon started to realize just how formulaic, how impersonal, the base game could start feeling. Easy battle after easy battle; wild Pokémon encounters that largely start and end the same way; biking aimlessly about to hatch Egg after Egg. Combined with system tricks like weather manipulation, the game loses the spice and spontaneity that affords a combat role-playing game its realism. Playing through The Crown Tundra, however, I felt a glimmer of the kind of inspired, immersive development choices that the games have lacked for some time. 

After riding the rails south to the tundra’s main station, you’re quickly greeted by the father-daughter Trainer duo, Peony and Nia, who’ve travelled here for two very different holidays: Peony’s got a whole itinerary of expeditions for Legendaries planned, while poor Nia just wants to battle rare Dynamax Pokémon and take some time off from her well-meaning, overbearing, Steel-type expert of a father. In short order, Nia hits you with the biggest hustle of all time: she’s going to spend her vacation relaxing at the Max Lair, while you are going to keep her dad busy with his list of quest memos. Thus is born the affectionately-named Peony Exploration Team.

Courtesy of The Pokemon Company

Despite getting totally finessed into tagging along with Peony’s plans, I soon realized I had no regrets over dropping millions of Pokedollars on trendy new holiday threads and hundreds of Ultra Balls. Peony and Nia, already entertaining characters on the surface, also surprise us with a link to the storyline of the base Sword and Shield games that retroactively fleshes out some of its weaker characters. 

The first quest sequences, to restore the “King of Bountiful Harvests,” were simplistic but charming, involving some borderline Zelda-esque tasking. That vibe quickly spilled into every Memo I cleared for Peony: documenting the faint footprints of the Swords of Justice, carefully analyzing the migration data needed to find them; chasing the Galarian Birds across landmass after landmass and finding the right tactics to outmanoeuvre them; looking for sacred sites based on old drawings and the fleeting memories of a deposed king. Not to mention the part where we humiliate our opponents with our unproblematic fave, Compound Eyes Sleep Powder Butterfree!

Galarian Star Tournament. Courtesy of The Pokemon Company

Amidst each of these quests, The Crown Tundra feels like a proof-of-concept for gameplay that recenters the mainline Pokémon games not on battle, but on adventure. Pokémon brawls still play a part, yes — most notably in the Dynamax Adventures capture minigame and the Galarian Star Tournament — but for the first time, tracking and catching Pokémon across the wilds teeters on the edge of echoing what the experience might really feel like for a Trainer. 

Small as it objectively was, sparse as the new additions to the Pokedex actually were, the Tundra somehow still felt like a space into which I could disappear as I completed the adventures. The frosty, remote ambience they created was bolstered by a phenomenal music score and a cohesive repertoire of landscapes. I won’t pretend that the Tundra was some all-redeeming paradise — there’s notably little to do after beating its main campaign — but it was the perfect wintry holiday to draw me back into sync with my gaming self. 

Right now, there’s no telling what’s next on the agenda for the mainline Pokémon games. With the advent of The Crown Tundra, though, I’m excited to find out. 

This Sounds Serious: Grand Casino bets on a pitch-perfect parody podcast

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This self-reflexive podcast parodies true crime conventions but also keeps you hooked. Courtesy of Kelly&Kelly

By: Emma Jean, Staff Writer

If you’ve stumbled onto any podcast streaming service in the last five years, you’re bound to have seen a variety of podcasts with ominous names investigating true crime cases. With the abundance of nervous journalists questioning reluctant sources in series like Serial or Someone Knows Something, it’s easy to pick apart the cliches of the genre. 

This Sounds Serious, produced by Vancouver podcast studio Kelly&Kelly, concentrates those tropes to create a tremendously accurate parody of investigative podcasts while combining laugh-out-loud humour with genuinely gripping storytelling. Each season concentrates on a different mystery being investigated by Gwen Radford, a dedicated investigative journalist played impeccably by Carly Pope.

Full disclosure, I loved the first two seasons of This Sounds Serious. I’ve been eagerly awaiting the third since I binge-listened to the second, Missing Melissa, and found it one of the most creative and compelling pieces of narrative fiction I’d ever heard. That season featured the mysteriously and hilariously intertwined cases of a chronically missing person, the longest recorded hostage situation, and a small-town mayor. Before I knew it, I was yelling questions at my earbuds. Needless to say, I had high expectations for the third season. 

Subtitled Grand Casino, with the eighth and final episode released digitally on October 20, the latest installment feels different from the first two. Rather than having Gwen dig into unsolved cases, she’s working to unravel a seemingly closed case from nearly 30 years ago involving now-imprisoned con-man Kirk Todd, voiced by co-creator Pat Kelly. Allegedly, Kirk frauded Hollywood executives into funding and premiering a movie, the titular Grand Casino, that he never actually made — and which the industry tried to bury all record of. The more Gwen starts to investigate, however, the more questions emerge around what really happened. 

Grand Casino doesn’t try to achieve the ambitious feat of tying three stories together the way Missing Melissa does, but it does string together events separated by time. As always, it’s fascinating to hear Gwen work out the case and her thought process, but the case’s generally distant nature doesn’t create the same urgency. As a result, the ending doesn’t live up to the incredible pay-off of the prior seasons, but it still wraps up the season in an unexpected and interesting way that had me saying “WHAT?” until the last second. 

The show also shines in its production, edited to a perfect pastiche of all of the quirks and techniques used in narrative podcasts. The meta of it all is taken to another level when Gwen consults the goofy hosts of a fictional film comedy podcast who make fun of what they know of Grand Casino, and a satire-within-a-satire is born. For fans of the Vancouver comedy scene, there will be no shortage of recognizable voices in Grand Casino. One of those will likely be the standout performance from Caitlin Howden, whose excellent work as a naïve French actress is played with earnestness and well-timed camp, and is cleverly utilized as her seemingly smaller role grows as the plot thickens.

The series is highly researched in its parody, and it shows. Throughout the third season, references to real-life cons and the podcasts based on them are sprinkled throughout — subtle enough to sound like smart details to newcomers and knowing nods to experts. The plot twists and devices used occasionally seem too elaborate to be plausible, but, as co-writer and director Dave Shumka’s Twitter source thread proves, they are often identical to real-life cons. A mark of good satire is that it highlights the absurdity of its source material, and Grand Casino knocks that out of the park. 

The premise of This Sounds Serious revolves around true crime and those invested in the genre will get a kick out of those details, but anyone who listens can get something out of the latest season. Just be open to a good story and let Gwen take it away. 

This Sounds Serious: Grand Casino can be bought ad-free for $4.99 on their website and all three seasons can be streamed for free on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever podcasts are found.