Arcane Writes

Some things

2005-08-17T20:16:00.000+01:00

The webcomics seem to be going to war. Not, sadly, over the whole Whacko Jacko thing, (mostly because Penny Arcade don't seem to want to join in), but in World of Warcraft. Firstly, PvP makes a Horde guild for its members, practically a declaration of war for Mike "Gabe" Krahulik, and so Penny Arcade made an Alliance guild in response. And when that was full they made another. And another. And another. And with the Horde hopelessely outnumbered, Ctrl-Alt-Del joined in the fray on their side. VG Cats made a guild, but don't want to get involved in any pvp shenannigans. Wusses. And of course the Slackers over at Machall have been in that biz for ages now.

The more I learn about WoW, the less interesting it seems. The huge eternal war between Alliance and Horde has become purely recreational: people will slaughter one another just to pass the time, or to show off their power-levelling. Nothing is ever achieved. This is in contrast to, say, Eve where the struggle of human against human is how the entire game works. You never hear of anyone going off doing quests for npcs in Eve (though I'm assured they do exist).

Also, yeah, I've not updated in ages, have I? Surprisingly, this is because I've had more time on my hands. I tend to blog and write interesting stuff as an alternative to doing any work, so with no work to be doing, I've got nothing to avoid doing. But! Recently things have changed. I've been doing a travelogue of Second Life for Always_Black's website, and the first part went up recently. It's nice to actually be writing to a purpose again. I'd be loading them up here as well, but AB's sponsoring me in-game, so it's only fair to keep it web-exclusive.

Transport for Gentlemen

2005-07-16T11:23:00.000+01:00

I mentioned my Twindola the other day. This is why I love it.

Getting around in Second Life is incredibly easy, possibly the easiest part of playing, barring having buildings appear around you as you go. You can walk and run, sure. But considering the often vertical nature of the world, you are also capable of flight, allowing every single avatar to soar around as steel-bikini-wearing superheroes, if they so desire.

However, in a short space of time, I've come to realise just how undignified it is to do so, which is why I use the Twindola to get about whenever I can. Or, if I feel like a change, I use Smugglesome, my tame giant spider. It's not a matter of cash; the Twindola cost a mere $150. It is purely dignity. Only the lower classes fly themselves. If I take to this exploration gig properly, there isn't a chance in hell I'm doing it without a pair of helium-filled balloons above me and a nice, comfy chair below.

Eventually, I'm going to make my own personal aircraft, but I'm taking only the tiniest of baby-steps with regards to crafting, so the Twindola will suffice for now. I realised just how much I'd come to depend on it when I actually managed to lose it yesterday. It had one of its episodes, and plummeted through the ground, which are reasonably common, and usually result in the craft just snapping back to where it should be. This time however, it continued to fall through the ground, but I didn't, and was trapped in the sitting position among some unsightly rocks, unable to move, and unable to locate the Twindola. So for the rest of the day I had to go without. Flying long distances without an aircraft just felt so... undignified, I swore I'd never do so again.

Second Life - 2 days

2005-07-14T20:18:00.000+01:00

Coming back in sight of the _Blacklibrary, I took the Twindola (a small dirigible-type aircraft) to a lower altitude, to see if anyone was around. Through the large windows, Always Black was beavering away at his infonet terminal. I greeted him with a typically salty "Ahoy!". As I came around the side towards the entrance, I watched him scurry out, gazing up at my airship in wonder.

"AWESOME" he typed. I had to concur.

My first experience of Second Life actually took place over a year ago, whilst on a work experience placement at PC Gamer magazine. Before leaving for the evening, Tim Edwards brought us all round to see SL in action. Buildings were appearing from nowhere, and a huge purple squirrel was racing about on a scooter.

It would take thirteen months for me to express, in-game, what I'd felt when watching that. "SL IS DRUGS" I blurted out*. I still hold to that, but at least now I'm getting to grips with it. It takes surrealism in its stride, something that is helped along by the many (many) fringe cultures that invariably end up in things like this. While the world of SL is divided into zones which are rated for content (PG, Mature etc.) these are not grouped by rating, so you can go from a pleasant japanese-themed garden and padoga straight into the jaws of a gothic bondage whore-house and casino.

At the moment, I'm utterly enthralled, I have to say. I adore my Twindola, despite it being somewhat unstable and prone to having entire sections vanish and plummeting through the ground. I love that I am dressed as an 18th-century customs and excise officer**. I especially love buzzing past people in their houses in my Twindola, going "Yarr!" and flying off. I love that gal that helped me work out how to actually fly the damn thing.

Will I love it in a week? Maybe not. But it's a brave new world, and right now, I'm going to milk it for all it's worth.

*note: I was sitting on a slice of watermelon one meter in diameter at the time
**Everyone keeps calling me a pirate. I don't think a pirate would dress so dapper. Or have the wiggidy cloak of mine.

My brother

2005-06-24T17:41:00.000+01:00

The kitchen flooded today. While I was brushing my teeth. I take this as a warning from the Almighty against dental hygiene, which is confusing, because right now I don't think I could get enough of that. Anywaah, crisis averted (my Canute-esque commanding of the waters not especially helpful) and apart from having no water, we're okay.

Meanwhile, my bro is now on MSN (or there abouts) which means a resumption* of this kind of conversation:

PhilB {Fully Convergent} says:
Problem: I really like the powermaster/headmaster/targetmaster/minicon gimmick, but where would I get a little buddy of my own, that could connect somehow and unlock hidden features?

Bobsy says:
I think midgets could be the way forward.

Bobsy says:
Or, ah, downward.

Bobsy says:
(tee-hee)

PhilB {Fully Convergent} says:
I don't want to stick a midget to myself though, that would be wierd.

Bobsy says:
Exactly!

Bobsy says:
All them transformers are going to the pub or something, and one of them says to the other, "Dude, you've totally got a guy stuck to your chest"

Bobsy says:
And the other is all like "For your information, this guy UNLOCKS MY SECRET POWERS"

PhilB {Fully Convergent} says:
Ah yes, I'd forgotten the Breastmasters.

Bobsy says:
And the first guy's like all "Pfft. What-EVER, loser." And goes to the prom, and is elected prom queen. And the Fonz is there too.

Bobsy says:
Um. That'd be better than most transformers episodes, I think

PhilB {Fully Convergent} says:
I dunno, have you seen ALL of them?

PhilB {Fully Convergent} says:
I have.

We're so cool.

In other (read: more important) news, I haven't forgotten how to write stuff. I just can't be bothered right now. I have one thing to finish off, and another that I might start (but might not) and a bunch of other bits that I really ought to be doing as well. But... R:TW has eaten my life utterly this week, and the promise of Half-Life 2 at long last doesn't bode well for getting anything creative done for a while yet.

*if that's not a word, it bloody well ought to be.

NTL in "don't-totally-suck" shocker!

2005-06-22T23:38:00.000+01:00

NTL do usually suck, mostly in customer services. Their set-top box for cable TV is a big bag of shite that hardly ever works, and frequently suffers spr0k attacks whenever you're really getting into something. But things have changed. Not much, but enough.

The pay-per-view service has been revamped. Now you can select a film or TV program (we'll get back to that in a sec) from a massively expanded library, and just watch it whenever you like, as much as you like, within a 24 hour period.

You can pause, fast-forward, rewind, or just stop and pick it up again later. Watch half a film in the evening, the other half the next morning.
If the NTL box has one of its "episodes" and breaks down, you won't have lost the money you paid for the film.
There's a hell of a lot to choose from. Hero's really good.
It's not just films: a selection of BBC programs are available, free, for seven days after broadcast. Today I watched an edition of Little Britain, just like that, because there was nothing else on.

It's not the future. It's not the way TV will eventally turn out (probably). But it's a considerable step in the right direction. Apart from the set-top box's innate craptitude at doing pretty much anything, the selection of normal telly programs is still too lacking for it to be truly great. But! It's still great enough for me to announce my love.

But before we wrap up here, a question: is this an actual advancement, or is NTL playing catch-up? Like, what do Sky, Sky+ and that other cable service offer like this? Better, worse, or the same?

Just five more minutes...

2005-06-16T21:09:00.000+01:00

Yeah, so I have no excuse for the lack of updates. Exams are well over, results are in (I got a 2-1, by the way) and by all rights I should be writing like stink right now. Clearly I'm not.

While there is no excuse there is a reason.

Fuck yeah.

I said fuck YEAH

2005-06-06T12:29:00.000+01:00

Computer (used) from Nick Berry: £500

Rome: Total War, Half-Life 2, SoaD: Mesmerize: £46.94

The knowledge that the torpor of staid, emotionless boredom will be lifted in 5-7 days: priceless.

Angry fanboys

2005-06-03T11:24:00.000+01:00

First off, exams are over, good times are here again. [sigh] Probably. I can't say I've noticed much difference. Ironically, I probably managed more leisure-writing as an excuse to get out of revision (not a particularly good excuse at that) over the past month than I've done in previous times. None of it's in a particularly finalised, or even particularly readable form. Like I said, revision distraction.

And on that subject, I've recently started reading webcomics more and more, which has broadened my horizons quite significantly. From a modest diet of Penny Arcade, Megatokyo and VGCats, I've now begun to gorge myself on MacHall, AppleGeeks, PVP, Little Gamers, CtrlAltDel and Sinfest on a regular basis, in addition to the above. And in recent times, there have been two pretty big examples of the strange, inexplicable behaviour of the more 'hardcore' fans towards their favourite webcomics.

We'll begin with Penny Arcade. Earlier this year, in the way that Gabe and Tycho enjoy doing so often, they sardonically passed comment on the way videogaming was being constantly beset by exclusivity deals with publishing companies, and spoofed this by pretending they were jumping on that very bandwagon. Now, since they're not complete morons over there, they realised that if they just said IT'S A FUCKING JOKE then the joke would be ruined, and they'd look like utter hacks, so naturally Tycho's news post took the spoof a little bit further.

All well and good, you might think. It's pretty goddamn obvious that they were doing nothing more dangerous than taking the piss, but it seems that a significant proportion of their audience actually thought that they were actually taking steps to destroy gaming webcomics forever. It's hard to imagine people being that moronic, but they really were. Scroll down to the bottom of that day's news post to see Tycho's bewildered reaction.

A bit later, those kids at PA decided to do something similar, playing with the idea that, after a fight, Gabe and Tycho would try and do the comic on their own (a four-strip serial that begins thus). Now, considering these two are among the most experienced webcomic people in existence, it's really fucking unlikely that they'd suddenly turn so naive as to think they could either of them make PA without the contribution of the other party. But the 'mistake' that Tycho made was to credit their audience with the meagre brainpower required to notice that the whole thing was a joke, by not explicitly laying it down in his news post. And so the emails came in, dumbass readers managing to be taken in by the most transparent farce they'd yet done.

And, as if those readers felt they need to prove that they really were that continually dumb, the thing happened a third time, and Tycho decided to just give in. A weak response perhaps, but I imagine that being on the recieving end for a half-country's-worth of bullshit can't be easy.

Onward. The latest edition of Applegeeks experiments with a new art style, but the changes aren't permanent. Unfortunately the news posts are not kept, so I can't link to that, but the gist of it all was that Hawk made entirely clear that he was experimenting with a new art style, and the change wasn't permanent. Yet they recieved such an inundation of complaints (proof of idiocy: some were even directed at Ananth, the goddamn writer) that Hawk, quite justifiably struck back. The end result is coming, just bear with one more example.

Megatokyo. The 716th edition features a Japanese character talking in Japanese to an American, who can't understand a word, like most of the readers. The point is quite clearly to illustrate that he doesn't understand what she is saying. I'm pretty sure that I'd be able to get that, even if I wasn't aspiring to be a writer myself. But still some readers became quite upset with the whole thing, because they thought that they deserved to be able to understand what she was saying.

Now, to the point. Invariably, the incensed readers do something bewildering. I honestly can't understand the logic. The extreme reaction goes something like this: "Make the comic how I want it, or I stop reading." I can't understand why they actually consider this to be a threat. Why would this ever be a problem? The last thing I'd want as a writer would be for people who didn't like what they were reading to masochistically continue to do so. Hell, if you can't please everyone, the least you could do is spare them from something they don't want to be put through.

It amazes me that these fanboys have gone to such twisted extremes that they regard offering their patronage for something equivalent to owning it. Perhaps it is a symptom of rampant capitalism, but even so, it takes a pretty huge jump of logic to think that the simple act of free consumption gives you any right to dictate the nature of the product. I think that whichever way you slice it, you come up with the same result: there are a lot of people who are morons.

[looks up] Ulp. I seem to be chanelling the spirit of Piro. I'll try and be more concise in the future. Whoops.

Kill me

2005-05-09T12:41:00.000+01:00

I'd actually decided not to update at all until the exams had gone away, but these are special circumstances.

Sitting in a computer cluster (again) watching the last precious drops of my youth dribble noncommitedly down a slime-clogged drain (again) I've been inflicted at close range with one of the most terrible weapons to student sanity that the clusters can inflict.

The abandoned mobile.

People often come here to work, and take extended breaks. The stupid ones will leave their mobiles out. The REALLY BASTARD ones make sure to have their dumb, ear-enbleeding* polyphonic ringtones turned up brain-meltingly loud, so that everyone else in the building has to suffer.

It just keeps going off. The last time, people began to sing along.

Ahem. Yeah, so a bit of quiet for a while. I'll be pretending to revise off in a corner somewhere.

*Yes, enbleeding is a word. It refers to making something bleed. I clearly didn't just improvise with a bunch of leftover letters.

Empire Earth 2 Soundtrack

2005-05-01T12:58:00.000+01:00

A quick slice of webjunk for you. I don't care a tinker's about Empire Earth 2. I like my civ-type games served straight, smothered in historical and political realism, actually. But what's important is that the nice folk what made it decided to release its soundtrack in mp3 format. I haven't even listened to it yet, but that's not important either. It's simply a good trend, and one that seems to be catching on. Republic Commando did the same thing, which is pretty top-notch. Since game music is on the up-and-up, getting increasingly better all the time, being given it free is just marvelous.

http://www.sierra.com/downloadfile.do?gamePlatformId=1729&mediaid=14220

Composed and Orchestrated by Michael G. Shapiro. Performed by the Budapest Film OrchestraRecorded at Magyar Radio (Budapest, Hungary) and Private Island Trax (Hollywood, CA)

Fourth Crusade

2005-04-29T13:56:00.000+01:00

I'm too busy to keep abreast of things right now, being swamped with Uni work. But in the mean time, take a look here for a chronicle of the Fourth Crusade, which I have to essay about. Devious politics and manipulative backstabbing a-go-go!

Unconscience: comic script

2005-04-26T20:22:00.000+01:00

The story revolves around a pair of consciences, the good and evil influences that attempt to guide a person through their life, personified as Gary and Harry, tiny people (about four inches tall) who live inside the head of their client (Barry), emerging through a door in his neck every day to dispense their advice. Until the last page, we are made to believe that Harry is the ‘evil’ conscience, and Gary the ‘good’ one, long-suffering under the other’s utter dominance over their client, as well as the constant stresses of having to work with someone as obnoxious and foul as Harry. At the end however it is revealed that it is supposed to be Gary who is the ‘evil’ conscience, and Harry the ‘good’ one. Harry has apparently lost his sense of purpose, and is now dispensing evil advice on a level that poor Gary simply can’t compete with.

1.1: (title frame) An average student-style bedroom. That is, tatty posters, dirty clothes and dirty dishes on the floor, etc. It is night-time, and the lights are out. There is a clock on the wall, showing the time as about 4.00 AM. From this angle no windows or doors can be seen. Focus frame on a single bed, where Gary, a 16-20 year-old-looking-type is staring up at the ceiling, unable to get to sleep. He has dark, shoulder-length hair. Music is being played loudly next door, keeping him up, but this is obviously not the first time.

Caption: Every goddamn night.

SFX: …thup-dada-dup-dada-thup-dada-dup-dada...
(through the bedroom wall from next door)

Caption: It’s not even as if the Devil really does have the best tunes.
___________

1.2: Close-up on Gary, looking down on his tormented face from directly above.

Caption: He knows how much it pisses me off. Why can’t he be more professional about all this? Hell, it’s surely within the bounds of common courtesy.

SFX: …thup-dada-dup-dada-thup-dada-du-
___________

1.3: Similar angle to 1.1, at least so that the bedroom wall is visible again.

SFX: Knock-knock!
(through bedroom wall)

Caption: Oh god. Not tonight. Please.

Harry: Hey, baby! You look good!
___________

1.4: Close-up on Gary (different angle), trying to cover his ears with his pillow.

SFX: …squeekasqueekasqueekasqueekasqueekasqueeka…
___________

1.5: Same angle as 1.1, except it is now morning. The clock shows it is 08:30 AM. Light is entering the room from an off-frame window. Somehow Gary managed to finally get some sleep. Give a nice ‘calm-before-the-storm’ feeling.
___________

1.6: Same angle. The entire room violently lurches, pivoting 90 degrees vertically so that the floor is now an upright wall. The bed is nailed to the floor/wall, but everything else in the room is thrown about chaotically. Gary is thrown from his bed.
___________

1.7: Garry lands on his head among the debris, in a painful but slightly comical position.

Gary: I need to get an alarm clock. This is getting ridiculous.
___________

2.1 – 2.5: Small close-ups on Gary as he goes through the morning routine; combing hair, brushing teeth, shaving, fishing out a clean suit (medium grey) from the piles of clothes, straightening his tie, etc.

Caption (2.5): Time to go to work.
___________

2.6: ‘Close-up’ on the left shoulder of a young man (Barry?), approx. the same age as Gary. In this and all frames on this guy, his face is never clearly displayed. In his neck a small door is open: on the outside it looks like the normal skin of his neck, on the inside it looks like a wooden door. Gary has exited his bedroom through the door, and is now standing on the guy’s shoulder, wearing a neat medium-grey suit, and blearily holding a mug of coffee. Yup, he’s a tiny little conscience guy about four inches tall, although he is absent of any wings, halo, horns or pitchfork.

Caption: Conscience patrol.

Gary: So, what are we doing today?
___________

3.1: Looking down from Barry’s left shoulder, Gary sees that the big guy is sitting on a sofa, playing a videogame on a Playstation or similar. He is talking sarcastically.

Gary: Oh great. Videogames for breakfast. How very wholesome.
___________

3.2: Focus on Gary’s face as he is suddenly horrified by what is happening on screen.

Game: Waaaaah! Waaa-
(off-panel)

SFX: Ratatata-SPLAT!

Gary: Wait… what kind of game is this?
___________

3.3: From behind, Gary and Harry are silhouetted against the light of the screen so we can’t make out what Harry is wearing. Harry has emerged from a similar door on the other side of Barry’s neck, walking out onto the right-hand shoulder.

Harry: *Yawn* Baby Hunter 2, man! You get to hunt babies! It’s awesome!
(from the other side of Barry’s neck)

Caption: He’s up already? How does he do that? He must sleep less than I do!
___________

3.4: Gary looks back towards the screen.

Gary: The main character appears to be a nun. Killing babies.

Harry: Technically I think it’s just some guy dressed as a nun. But otherwise, yeah.
(off-panel)

Caption: I can’t take much more of this.
___________

3.5: Gary slumps down, cradling the coffee cup in his hands as if for comfort. Harry pokes his head around Barry’s neck, sneering at Gary. We cannot see what Harry’s wearing.

Harry: I guess someone like you wouldn’t appreciate this kind of game though. Probably ‘cos you’re such a loser and everything.
(off-panel)

Caption: I mean, yeah, this is the way it’s always been. Good conscience, bad conscience. All things fair game. May the best guy win, and all that. But really…
___________

3.6: Close-up on the screen. A smiling cute baby is being targeted through a sniper rifle.

Caption: Give me something to work with, here!
___________

4.1: Barry stands up sharply to go out, nearly throwing Gary off his shoulder.

Gary: Wh-whoa!

Caption: If things continue like this, I’m going to be out of a job in no time.
___________

4.2: Barry slings on a jacket, covering poor Gary as it goes over his shoulder.

Gary: Mmmph!
___________

4.3: They’ve gone outside. As Gary hauls himself out through the jacket’s collar, he notices Barry is passing by a tree where a large, evil-looking crow is watching the tiny conscience-person hungrily. Two tiny conscience-crows flap on either side of its head, the evil one (complete with tiny horns) on the crow’s left-hand side, the good one (with halo) on the right-hand side.

Caption: It’s not like this is the easiest gig in the world at the best of times.

Evil crow: I say we go for him.
___________

4.4: Side-on angle. Barry has stopped, and is looking down at something on the pavement. On his near shoulder (left) Gary is standing in more or less the same position – straight up, head tilted looking down at the object on the pavement. On Barry’s far shoulder, Harry has crouched down for a better look at the object, and we can see his head poking out.

Gary: Someone’s dropped their wallet…

Harry: You know what that means!

Gary: Just let me-

Harry: All aboard the tequila train! Woo-woo!
___________

4.5: Same angle. Barry is now pocketing the wallet. Harry and Gary are now arguing directly with each other.

Gary: Would you just give it a goddamn rest for a change?

Harry: Hey, asshole! I don’t tell you how to do your job, okay?

Caption: Oh, very funny. He’s loving this.
___________

4.6: Barry is now walking away, seen from behind at some considerable distance, so that we cannot see any distinguishing features on Gary and Harry (such as clothes or wings etc.)

Gary: I swear, I’m going to come over there!

Harry: Oooh, them’s fighting words! What’s it to be? Pitchforks at dawn? Ha!
___________

5.1 Gary slumps down, dejected and defeated.

Caption: I have to do something. If he keeps this up – and he will – I’ll be laid off like a flash.

Harry: Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re just a chicken!
(off-panel)

Caption: Pitchforks at dawn.
___________

5.2: Close-up on Gary’s face. He’s coming to a decision, and despite still feeling depressed because of Harry, he’s coming to terms with the idea of taking action.

Caption: It’s simple economics. Doesn’t matter how well you do your job, if someone comes along and manages to undercut you, you’re finished.

Harry: Hey, I like that kid’s bike. We’d look good with that bike.
(off-panel)
___________

5.3: Gary is now standing up. He’s not taking this any more. Time for a stand.

Caption: I can’t beat him there. But I don’t have to.

Harry: While he’s not looking! Quick!
(off panel)

Caption: I can do this the old fashioned way.
___________

5.4: Gary grabs a few strands of Barry’s hair, and swings on it, Tarzan-like, over to the other shoulder.

Caption: This calls for a… a hostile takeover.
___________

5.5: Gary is now on Barry’s right-hand shoulder, confronting Harry. We now finally see Harry for what he truly is, the supposed angelic ‘good’ conscience. He is wearing a white robe, like an angel. He has tiny cherub wings sprouting from his back, though they are somewhat grubby by now, as is the robe. His old, no-longer-used halo is hanging from his belt, alongside a small harp. Gary on the other hand is revealed as the devilish ‘evil’ conscience he always was. His hair is swept back as if being blown by a divine wind, revealing a pair of tiny horns sticking out from his skull. He is holding a vicious-looking pitchfork in both hands, raised in a threatening gesture. The weapon is wreathed in fire. Gary is finally back in his element. He is very, very angry, and ready for a fight. Presented with this all of a sudden, Harry is cowering a little in surprise and fright.

Gary: I think it’s time we had a little chat.

THE END

Idiocy in IT

2005-04-26T11:42:00.000+01:00

When I finally fly this academic nest, probably the thing I'll miss most is the times I've spent in the computer clusters ('cluster' being the coffee-shop name for 'room with things in'). Now, being reasonably PC-savvy, there isn't much reason for me to ever be in here, other than my crippling miserliness when it comes to buying broadband with my own money. As such, being in a cluster allows me to spend some quality time with people who aren't much like me, and most importantly, cannot use computers.

The biggest hurdle for these types comes when they are presented with a blank screen. Now, for most sensible PC users, this sends the following pattern of signals through their heads:

The screen is turned off.
This could be due to power-saving settings on the computer
Failing that the computer may be turned off.

And the solution would come thus:

I should move the mouse. The screen should activate.
If it does not, I should check to make sure the monitor and computer are both turned on, and correct the error if either are not.

Quite simple in all regards. Unless you're my grandma, who is A Special Case, five minutes of experience with computers will familiarise you with pressing buttons to apply power to computers and peripherals. In terms of the former, probably no more than a day's worth of time spent with a PC.

I therefore enjoy watching with some considerable amusement the countless times these simple processes manage to elude the sharpened, honed academic minds that have been trained to attract them. People that have clearly used computers before, beaten back by the combination of a blank screen and the fact that this computer is not theirs.

Automatically, they'll be attracted to a computer that isn't saving power. One where the screen is inviting them to log on. Instantly, they're transferring responsibility to a cold, soulless machine. "I didn't want to log in, but the computer asked so nicely!" If there are no free computers with inviting, power-wasting screens, many of them will flee. There is nothing for them here. Blank screens are clearly for Advanced Users. They do not trust themselves with the operation of getting the computer working.

Occasionally an Advanced User will step in, and attempt to change the screen from the sinister darkness to the beautiful light. This involves wiggling the mouse for approximately six minutes before the screen lights up and they can be invited. If however, the screen stays sullen and blank, most will at this point run off. But the Advanced Advanced User will stay, and engage in a complex rite of pressing random buttons until at last the monitor and computer are turned on at the same time.

Well, it keeps me amused, at least.

In the time spent writing this, no less than three people have tried, and failed, to use the computer on my left. One even asked me if it was working, before walking away to find a less challenging computer without even waiting for my answer. I'll miss this.

Prince of Persia: Warrior Within Review

2005-04-25T15:33:00.000+01:00

Imagine cooking a meal, a really nice one, and then leaving it in a corner of the kitchen for several months. You're aware of it all the time, you know it's there, and you know it's delicious. In fact, it's one of your favourites, and you cooked it just right. But as time goes on, it begins to... well, look: it begins to fester. The ideal of one day eating it becomes less and less viable, but it was so good that you still can't bring yourself to throw it away. Eventually, it becomes a putrid mush of undefinable colours and textures beyond even a student appetite. And it finally becomes necessary to start again.

This isn't the review. This is just to demonstrate how I didn't write one five months ago when the game actually came out. Why didn't you just eat the meal when you cooked it? There's no good reason. Similarly, there was no good reason why I didn't just sit down and write the damn thing. It was born, lived, decayed and finally died within the wretched confines of my brain, and never saw the light of day, or even flatscreen monitor. So now it's time to start again.

If Prince of Persia: Warrior Within began about half-way through, at the the two mechanical towers that make-up the highlight of the game proper, you'd be a hell of a lot happier with the game as a whole. Unfortunately for Ubisoft, they decided to go the traditional route of firing off the game at the beginning, which manages to concentrate pretty much everything wrong with the game into a single shot.

A great big arse.

Top marks for efficiency, I suppose, but it doesn't make the whole thing any easier to swallow (as nice an image as that might be). The problem with PoP: Wibble Wobble is the look, and the smell. Rather than its older bother's beautifully haunting Arabian setting, Wretched Wiring has gone and generified (playing fast and loose with vocabulary, here) it into something that manages to be both instantly recognisable and instantly forgettable. There are some Middle-Eastern leanings, but they're so disgustedly covered up in genericism (woo!) that it doesn't matter.

And it really doesn't matter. Wastrel Wife really could be set in any culture with a modicum of mythological history quite comfortably, and at the same time none of them. Fact is, the game just doesn't care. Stylistically at least, all that Worrysome Witch cares about is that great big arse. It's an arse born of focus groups, board meetings, and middle management. It's an arse cynically aimed at 14-year old boys who games publishers consider their core market, cheerfully demolishing the credibility of an infant franchise that had previously been almost devoid of any real criticism.

And this would be maddening on itself, except for the way the game plays so goddamn well. All the wonderfully intuitive controls and on-screen feedback from The Sands of Time have been maintained, and work as wonderfully as ever they did. Not only that, but the combat system, which had previously been just a tiny bit weaker than the platformery, has been totally revamped and made to fit the beautiful directive the rest of the game mechanics had already established. As such, actually playing the game is an absolute treat, which improves on the older game in every sense. The acrobatics and sword swinging are smooth and unintrusive to such a ridiculous extreme that quite often stupidly big grins and manic giggles start spurting forth from your face, even when trying to suppress them with memories of the big arse.

So, on a purely mechanical level, focussing on what travels through your hands, via the controller and comes back out through the screen, William's Western is a near-perfect game, a triumph which beats is own prequel into obsolescence in every respect. But games are more than that. They have been for years. To anyone that respects anything other than blood and tits in games, this game is an insult; gamers are growing up, and desire stimulation other than the most base and carnal, especially in the better games like the neo-Prince of Persia series. Games, like all media, should be led by creativity. Warrior Within was led by money-men, and more importantly, by a great big arse.

Striptease

2005-04-23T11:59:00.000+01:00

I'm actually in the process of trying to nail the script to a five-page 'proper' comic, but the last page is eluding me at the moment. However, in swimming the lanes of apathetic inspiration I did manage to think up a short strip that runs on similar lines. At least it keeps me off the streets.

1: A living room. Bobsy is sitting on the sofa, videogame controller in hand, slightly bored expression on his face.

2: Same angle. From behind, Evil Bobsy leaps over the back of the sofa. E-B is identical in appearence to Bobsy, except he is wearing all black. Bobsy is understandably startled by the other's entrance.

E-B: Hey, man.

Bobsy: Wha-?

3: Evil Bobsy picks up the other controller and starts playing nonchalantly. Bobsy is still reeling at the sight of him.

Bobsy: Who the hell are you?

E-B: Evil twin.

Bobsy: I don't have an evil twin!

E-B: Yeah, I'm new.

4: Bobsy picks up his controller and goes back to playing.

Bobsy: Oh.

5: Bobsy turns back to talk to Evil Bobsy.

Bobsy: So, are you going to pay rent, or..?

E-B: Dude, I'm evil.

Trapped

2005-04-22T11:04:00.000+01:00

This might (already) be my last communication. I am trapped underground, and I don't know yet if I'll be able to escape.

I arrived on campus apparently just ahead of the invaders. I went into the library to innocently transfer a couple of files back and forth. I left soon after to pursue the dream of a packet of tasty crisps. But when I emerged... oh! what fresh horror met my fleeting eyes!

Hordes. Hordes. Hordes of young people, literally everywhere, all over the campus. These weren't the tired, sullen eyes of weary undergraduates looking for release from their constant hell, these were fresh, young sixth-formers eagerly lapping up the discharge left by the open wounds of campus life. Packs of rabid teenagers giddily clutching overpriced cups of coffee, so easily enthralled by the polystyrene and plastic lids, their adolescent fantasies swallowed whole by the enthusiastic weather and makeshift hotdog stands. Hotdog stands!

It was a grim sight, and I did the only thing I could do. I fled. I retreated to the most secure place on campus I knew of. The 'Learning Centre', home of the majority of the university's computer clusters, requires passcards for each room. I went to the basement level, and closed the door behind me. And here I am. I don't think they can get me here. There are vending machines just outside, so I may be able to survive for a short time. But I don't know how long. Above, the enemy mass, eager to break through into this desperate sanctuary. I have abandoned my dream of tasty crisps.

They have surrounded the building. There is no way out. I was a fool to come here. There is no escape. I may die here. Some of them have student newspapers.

Help me.

Fresh Start.

2005-04-21T15:06:00.000+01:00

Yes. A Fresh Start. None of that old, decrepid old crap. This crap is brand new decrepicence. Decrepidience. Decrepidness. Whatever. Yes, so... yes. Writes! Arcane Writes! For writing in, clearly. More on that later. For now, please just relax and enjoy the music.*

*there is no music.