#oneaday, Day 267: Go Outside!

It’s funny. I’ve never particularly thought of myself as an outdoorsman, despite growing up in the country and despite semi-regular trips from primary school and Cub Scouts (yeah, deal with it) to various campsites. This is largely to do with being a nerd, of course, because everyone knows that nerds, like vampires, tend to shun sunlight in favour of the glow of a TV or computer screen. Or sometimes candle-light and books. But books don’t glow. Unless they’re on an iPad.

Anyway, the point I was getting at is that I appear to have spent most of the last couple of days outside. This is partly due to the Couch-to-5K running programme I’ve been following which, by its very nature, requires one to go outside to do said running. Today, though, I decided to just go out for a walk. Of course, I had the flimsy justification of putting various GPS trackers on to try and measure how far I went yesterday (3.75 miles, as it happens) but mostly it was a desire to actually go out again. The place I went yesterday—a nearby wood—is a place that’s nice and quiet and peaceful and has literally nothing surrounding it on Google Maps. Today, rather than running there (or run-walk-run-walk-ing there, to be more accurate) I just walked and took my time. I had some awesome tunes on for the duration and just enjoyed being out, feeling the breeze on me (until it got a bit cold later) and the feeling of being surrounded by nature. Evidently I have some sort of latent hippie/wood elf tendencies.

Of course, any kind of sudden change in one’s routine is normally down to external stimuli, and of course there’s one in this case. A few online chats with a very nice person (who may be reading this right now… hello! *waves*) inspired me to go out and spend some time in all this countryside I’m surrounded with. This countryside I grew up in, and pretty much took for granted, and then became a teenager and thought was boring. So I have. So, special person, thank you for being the one to give me a nudge in the correct direction. It just takes the right person to say the right thing and… well, you find yourself in the middle of the woods listening to Shpongle.

For those who are keeping up, this person is also the person who bullied me (not very hard) into picking up a copy of Firefly and then sat until the early hours with me yesterday watching it “with” me. Which was nice. But also made me forget to write my blog. Although that was mostly my own fault for not writing it earlier and then engaging in a conversation I knew would continue for quite a long time.

Anyway. Yes. Going outside is good. So do it. Especially if you’ve just finished watching that DVD box set or beaten that game you were playing. Don’t pick up another one (yet)—open that door and go and enjoy the lovely mild Autumn sunshine and the crispy brown leaves under your feet. Unless you live in the city, in which case you can go out and enjoy the howling Autumn Peugeot chavmobiles screaming past at all hours.

I have been outside most of today, so I now have no guilt at settling down under a warm duvet with a mug of hot chocolate and a Firefly box set. Can you say the same? Can you?

Oh, here’s some photos. These were taken using the iPhone 4’s fancy-pants HDR setting and haven’t had any processing done to them. Enjoy! I’m off to watch aforementioned Firefly.

#oneaday, Day 266: Shiny!

Yeah. I know. Don’t look at the timestamp. But technically I haven’t broken the rules as I haven’t gone to sleep yet. Therefore it’s still yesterday.

Again, don’t look at the timestamp.

The reason I’m awake at this ridiculous hour and not sleeping the night away? Firefly.

I am super-late to the party on Firefly but a selection of Whedonite acquaintances have been bugging me to watch it for ages. One in particular tipped me over the edge and convinced me to grab the DVDs from Amazon. (They were cheap.) So I have. And now I’m hooked, particularly as I’ve spent the last several hours virtually watching Firefly with said person and commenting via IM.

I’ve always loved Joss Whedon’s work (well, Buffy, Angel and Dr Horrible) as he is a masterful character creator. Firefly is no exception. There is not one single person in that cast who is “filler”. They all have a role to play and all are unique, entertaining people who bring a great deal to the series. The tone is kept quite light-hearted throughout, despite the serious scrapes they find themselves in at times, and that, too, is a hallmark of Whedon.

What I wasn’t expecting was the tone and feel of the series in general. Firefly is a Western! In space. And not even a little bit. There are times when it doesn’t even try and hide it. Cattle ranching. Weaponry that looks mysteriously like revolvers, rifles and shotguns. A slightly bastardised form of Wild West American English. And some cracking saloon fights.

There’s also an element of Chinese in there, too, with the “Galactic Language” (which seems to be reserved for swearing) being Chinese, apparently. Quite what that’s all about, I’m not sure yet.

The best thing by far, though, is the writing. Every character gets some magnificent lines and Whedon’s trademark quick-fire exchanges are present, correct and frequent. Nathan Fillion’s wonderful performance as Mal is delivered with such wonderfully deadpan gusto that it immediately makes him a wonderful character. But his supporting cast are incredible too, with tough guy Jayne being a particular highlight.

One of my favourite things about the series, though, is the slang used throughout. It actually brings to mind classic RPG Planescape Torment in that, to begin with, it’s sometimes difficult to work out what these characters are talking about. But after spending a bit of time with them, you soon start getting wise to their idiosyncratic way of speaking. And you too will start using the word “shiny” in conversation.

At this stage (nearly two discs in) I’m wondering why on Earth this show ever got cancelled. It’s magnificent. It’s well-written, tightly-scripted, beautifully acted and tells an excellent story. But someone, somewhere at Fox didn’t like it, it seems, and didn’t feel it was worthy of renewing. Which is a crying shame when you see tripe like The X-Factor gracing our screens for year after year. I know X-Factor isn’t Fox. But it is shit, unlike Firefly.

So, if you (yes, you) have never had the pleasure of watching Firefly, drop everything you’re doing, watching, playing and pick up the series on DVD from Amazon.

#oneaday, Day 265: Skill Points

Take a minute, now, to take stock of yourself. Specifically, take stock of the skills you have. And don’t say that you don’t have any. Everybody has skills of some description, whether it’s the ability to make the perfect Angel Delight without the use of a measuring jug, the ability to excite women simply by looking at them, an understanding of the various wires, pipes and bendy things that make up a car engine or being able to do something awesome like play the piano.

It’s quite a strange experience to suddenly be conscious of your own skills. But there are times when it happens. It often doesn’t happen when you’re young or lacking in self-confidence. But at some point in your life, something flips a switch in your head and says, “Hey. You’re awesome. It’s okay to think that.” Not in an arrogant way, simply in the sense that you can picture a task in front of you—be it making said Angel Delight, exciting said women or… you get the idea—and feel confident that yes, you probably are going to be able to pull that off.

You know you’re at that stage when you casually mention something you’re doing to friends and they’re all “Oh wow! That’s so awesome!” and you’re all like “Yeah, whatever.” and then they’re all “No, SRSLY, that’s AWESOME!” and you’re like “Really?” and they’re all “Yeah!” and you get all proud of yourself and then a bit guilty that you’re feeling pride because it’s one of the Seven Deadly Sins after all and you don’t want to end up in a field shouting “WHAT’S IN THE FUCKIN’ BOX?!” and finding spoilers in the spoiler. (Yes, I know the Statute of Limitations was up on Se7en years ago.)

But it’s actually a pretty cool feeling. Particularly when you realise that rather than being someone quite a way down the “pecking order” of “talent”, whatever your skill might be, you’re actually pretty high up, and that people know that, realise that and respect you for it.

My skills that I’m most proud of? (Hi, Satan.) Music and writing. I’m sure there are ways I could improve both. I know for a fact I’m not as good a musician as many of my peers and friends, for example. But I’m satisfied with the skills I’ve got, I’m an awesome accompanist and my sight-reading skills are the stuff of legend. Amongst musicians. Who tell legends about sight-reading.

And my writing: if you’re reading this, take a look at the number at the top. 265 days. That’s how much I love my writing. 265 days of wanking on about bollocks, at least 500 words at a time. Some of it is bullshit. Some of it is profound. Some of it is non-descript. But I like all of it. I see some trusted friends, peers and colleagues being so very hard on themselves and their writing sometimes. And it actually makes me glad for once; while there are many things I would like to change and/or improve about myself, my writing is the one thing that I generally find myself feeling happy and satisfied with and, dare I say it, proud of.

So take a moment the next time you have a free second. Put down that celebrity gossip rag, that chocolate eclair or that tube of personal lubricant. Think about yourself. Think about what you’re good at. And take a moment to give yourself a pat on the back. Well done. You do a great job on that thing you’re really good at.

#oneaday, Day 264: Cupid Rules OK

OKCupid! is a fascinating site. Even if you’re not looking for a potential partner, soulmate or someone to shout “gief cyb0r plz” at, I’d encourage you to take a look at it for the simple reason that the site itself is pretty unique when it comes to the world of social networking, finding friends and dating.

If you’ve ever dipped a toe into the murky waters of online dating, you’ll know that most sites are 1) filled with people who are apparently far more attractive than you (but in fact are either using a fake photo or a very good photographer) and 2) demand that you give them vast quantities of cash every month for the privilege of being able to actually talk to anyone. Fair enough if they work; certain places like match.com even offer a money-back guarantee if you can’t find yourself someone to talk to on their network. There’s also that interminable string of “OMG! GET LAID WITH GIRLS IN [insert location from your IP address here] TONIGHT!!” that you get on some of the Internet’s less salubrious sites. But the less said about them the better.

No, OKCupid takes a different tack by first of all being free to use. Marvellous. Second of all, rather than relying on people searching via simple criteria (“I am looking for a woman aged 25-35 in the Outer Hebrides”) it does some rather clever profiling of your personality via a bank of approximately five bajillion “match questions”, some of which are “official”, but many of which have been submitted by other users. All of them are multiple choice, and all of them require you to not only put your own answer, but the answer you’d like your ideal partner/friend/fuckbuddy to put, too. And they don’t have to match. Perhaps you’re spoiling for a fight, so you put that you like immigrants, but you’d rather your ideal match were a card-carrying Daily Mail reader with borderline racist tendencies. Or perhaps you want to find someone who will never, ever argue with you about anything, ever. In which case you put that your ideal partner/friend/fuckbuddy should answer the same as you, and that it is MANDATORY (like the sex party) that they do this. And you won’t accept anything less. No sir.

Anyway, the upshot of all this is that the site builds what is probably a pretty accurate psychological profile of you and, as such, allows you to find people who you’re likely to “click” with fairly quickly. It’s pretty remarkable in the way it works, and it’s surprising to see how accurate a picture of your personality it can build from these questions. And of course, the more you answer, the more accurate said picture becomes.

Not only that, though, but the site also does stuff like tracks how likely people are to respond to unsolicited messages. So that hottie you have your eye on may only have a 5% response rate, in which case your declarations of a desire for a night of wild and steamy passion will probably fall on deaf ears. Or at least ears that will go “ugh” and block you promptly.

All that for free, while the sites out there that demand your credit card information to even get you to sign up still cling to the old ways. Why not go on over and find out a little something about yourself? You might even make some awesome new friends. “AND MAYBE MORE!!” as the saying has it.

For the curious, these are my Sims-style personality traits based on the 389 questions I’ve answered so far. (It’s super-quick to answer questions using the convenient iPhone app. Also, I get bored at night-time.)

From left to right, said icons indicate that I am less aggressive than average, less ambitious, less compassionate (not sure I’d agree with that one), more attentive, more pessimistic, less spiritual, more loving and more scientific. The magic robots have spoken. That is me. Until I answer some more questions and prove them wrong, of course. Apparently I need to grind my spirituality and compassion stats a bit.

#oneaday, Day 263: Original Sound Track

Music provides an emotional connection to memories. It can trigger memories, feelings and responses. Many people associate certain pieces of music with particular times in their lives. And, depending on your interests, these pieces of music can be from a variety of sources. They could be movie soundtracks. Pieces of music you’ve played yourself. The music that was playing when something awesome or terrible happened.

Or they might be video game soundtracks. Game soundtracks are quite unique in a way in that their technology has evolved very quickly. So rather than evolving over the course of hundreds of years like classical music, they evolved very distinct identities with each new generation of hardware, roughly a decade at a time. Today, we’re in a peculiar situation where we have game soundtracks that are, at times, indistinguishable from movie soundtracks. But at the same time, we also are getting game soundtracks that deliberately hearken back to the distinctive sounds of the past. Which is confusing. But awesome.

So I thought I’d share a few pieces of music that I’ve enjoyed over the years. And, where applicable, if I can remember (and if they’re not too embarrassing) the memory that’s attached to them.

The Atari ST had a deeply, deeply terrible soundchip, especially when compared to its technically superior rival, the Commodore Amiga. That didn’t stop a variety of composers such as Alistair Brimble trying their best to compose catchy tunes. I don’t have a particular memory associated with this piece of music (besides playing Fantasy World Dizzy, that is) but this piece of music was oddly memorable. I’m not sure why, because it’s not a spectacularly good piece of music. But it had that “hook”.

Starfox/Starwing had a very distinctive soundtrack. The synth sounds used throughout coupled with the reasonably-convincing electric guitar sounds were actually far better than most of the stuff that the N64’s execrable sound chip belched out. This piece of music in particular stuck with me. I remember playing Starfox/wing with headphones on in the lounge and getting told to be quiet because I was finding it all a bit exciting and going “Whooa!” a lot. C’mon. The first time you do that corkscrew descent to the surface of Venom? That was awesome.

I’m not afraid to admit I cried like a girl when (OMG SPOILER) Aeris/th died. I bought Final Fantasy VII specifically because my brother had said it was the first time a lot of people had felt genuine emotion from a video game. I wasn’t disappointed. Aeris/th’s death may be something of a cliché now. But at the time, what happened to her was shocking.

Silent Hill 2 is a game that’s stuck with me for many years. Its powerful imagery, heartbreaking story and excellent theme song are partly to blame for this. The fact that I was so captivated by the story that I played through about 95% of it in one night is probably more to blame for this. I associate this piece of music with staying up that night, and also feel an emotional connection to it which I’m buggered if I can actually describe.

Not a game soundtrack, but Speed’s score became my job interview soundtrack for a while. It was good driving music, so I’d listen to it on the way there and, assuming it hadn’t all gone horribly wrong, on the way back too. Added a bit of drama to the commute if nothing else.

You might have forgotten about the 2204355 Dancing Chicken Man by now, but I certainly haven’t. Why? Because the music on that video is now inextricably tied to my last weeks in Southampton. I was sitting up late one night contemplating the futility of existence (as you do) when SnakeLinkSonic posted a tweet which simply read “I CAN’T STOP WATCHING” and included a link to the original Flash animation that started all this nonsense off. The animation and the music made me laugh so much at I time when I was feeling so utterly terrible that I can’t help but have it stuck in my mind. It reminds me of the days counting down until I’d have to leave and make a fresh start… a fresh start which I’m not sure has quite happened yet.

Basically, if there’s ever a game featuring me, and I have to face a boss at the end of Disc 1, I want this music to be playing.

Again, not a specific memory attached to this one, but the Split/Second score is awesome and oddly inspirational. As such, I’ve adopted it as my official Going For A Run soundtrack. And it really works.

Last of all, this piece also doesn’t have a specific memory attached to it (because I’m creating said memory right now), but it was introduced to me while I was writing this. (Thanks, Donna!) It’s a pair of Dulcimers, an instrument I knew of but don’t think I’d ever seen before. This piece is gorgeous; the sound of the instruments is full, resonant and has a sense of “purity” about it. I like it very much.

So there’s some music for you. Hmm. That post took rather longer to put together than I thought it would. Oh well! Good night. Tune in tomorrow for the next episode in the thrilling series of events that has been taking place at the top of each post. Have I really just killed myself off?

#oneaday, Day 262: Padawan

I hate reality TV. Loathe it with a passion. I actually want to throw things at the TV if The X-Factor dares to show its face. And Big Brother just makes me want to… also throw things at the TV.

But I have one exception to this rule, one guilty pleasure, and that’s The Apprentice. I’m not sure why this is, as it is consistently home to some of the most obnoxious peen-arses that have ever graced the nation’s TV screens. But there’s something oddly addictive about it.

Twitter helps, of course. The Apprentice is one of those shows that a lot of people on Twitter get behind, narrate, comment and enjoy together. It’s like sitting together with an enormous group of friends, pointing and laughing at the prize gits on screen and (possibly) drinking to excess. Of course, it wouldn’t be Twitter without other people trying to tell you what you can and can’t post on your own stream, so add at least one person to the metaphorical throng of people who is sitting in the corner with their arms folded, sulking, whinging about everyone else having a good time.

That is an overstatement, of course. Most of my non-Apprentice-watching friends politely informed me that they’d either be avoiding Twitter for a while, or temporarily unfollowing me. Perfectly fine; it’s the way Twitter’s designed to work, after all. The image of the sourpuss in the corner was too amusing to leave out, though. And there are certainly those who do like to throw a strop when people aren’t posting what they think should be posted. Balls to them, I say! Or indeed, I point them to this response to me from the fine and lovely @velourvelvet:

(Also, look, see? #newtwitter is good for something. You can see my original tweet and the reply! Stop moaning.)

Anyway. Tonight’s episode revolved around sausages and the manufacturing and sale thereof. Naturally, the episode was edited to include as much innuendo as possible. Come on, we’re British. What’s the world coming to if you can’t snicker at the line “Hello there sir, you look like a sausage connoisseur”?

As usual, the people involved appear to mostly be prize dicks. They have, of course, been chosen because they make “good telly”. Pop in some grade-A peens amongst the blokes, pop in a few hotties and a few bitches amongst the girls, light the fuse and simply sit back. Easy. It also helps that grade-A peens who are also self-professed “entrepreneurs” up the knobjockey potential by, like, tenfold.

Tonight’s casualty was Dan, who looked like a mashup between Nicolas Cage and Bruce Willis. If indeed it were possible to do a mashup of people’s faces. Dan took on the poison chalice that was the first episode’s project manager position. And his style of project management was to slam tables, say “fuck” a lot and stand back not doing very much besides adjusting his cuffs. And his response to “why didn’t you sell anything?” was “I was managing the group”. Yes. Badly.

It was actually quite a surprise to see him go, though. As one friend put it on Twitter, “they usually keep the biggest cunt in for at least 4-5 weeks”. But to be fair, Dan has plenty of rivals for that illustrious post. Chief among them is Stuart, who deserves a punch in the balls for coming out with the line “everything I touch turns to sold” [sic] and miming punching numbers in on a calculator at every opportunity. The smart money is either on him being next out, or on him being kept in as long as possible to stir up as much discord as possible. My vote is for the latter.

Anyway. Enough talk of nonsense TV. And possibly time for bed.

#oneaday, Day 261: Random Access Memories

It’s weird, the things you remember over time. Perhaps it’s just me. But I’ve found over time that I have a fantastic memory for completely pointless crap and yet I can quite easily forget the things I need to buy from the shop in the space between stepping out of the house and reaching said shop.

So I thought I’d share a few stupid memories today for no apparent reason. I have hundreds of these. So this topic may return at some point in the future. For today, I’m going to focus on memories from my childhood.

First up: the ad starting at 2:17 of this vid right here:

Phurnacite. I’m still not entirely sure what it is, or was. But I remember this advert freaking me the fuck out when I was little despite, I believe, only ever seeing it once. Watching it now, it’s completely laughable, overacted and utter nonsense. For the longest time, I couldn’t even remember it was something to do with cookers. I remembered the image of the “doctors” with the masks on, though, and the woman crying going “HOW WILL I FEED MY FAMILY?”

Why do I remember that? That holds absolutely no benefit to me whatsoever unless taking part in a particularly specialist pub quiz on the subject of TV adverts from Christmas 1989 that freaked me the fuck out.

On a related note, the magazine advert for Mindscape’s surgery-em-up game for the PC, Life and Death, also featured doctors in masks, bloodstained swabs and the like and also freaked me the fuck out. I have never been in hospital for an operation, and those adverts were the reason I was terrified of the prospect of ever having to do so. Disappointingly, Google Images has let me down on an actual picture of said advert. But it was in an issue of A.C.E. magazine. Which was 1) possibly the best multi-format magazine of all time, now sadly defunct and 2) the only games magazine I’m aware of that rated games out of 1,000.

At some other point during my childhood, another completely random memory I have is to do with visiting the chap who was my best friend at the time. We’d acquired some weird little toys called “Wiggly Gigglies” (yes, laugh it up, it was the 80s) and much to my chagrin, friend in question had acquired a glow-in-the-dark one. I was fascinated by the idea of a glow-in-the-dark anything at the time, so one or both of us decided that it would be a really fantastic idea to lock ourselves in his airing cupboard to see that luminousness at work. Unfortunately, the airing cupboard wasn’t really big enough to even fit two kids inside, so I ended up shutting two of my fingers in the door and it really fucking hurt. It didn’t break them or anything, but they were bleeding a bit. I went home shortly afterwards, and resolved never to do two things: touch a Wiggly Giggly again, and shut myself in an airing cupboard again.

In that case, the pain is probably the trigger to the memory. But as I kid, I hurt myself quite a bit—kids will be kids and all that. It’s strange how that incident in particular sticks in my mind.

Let’s cap this off with a third memory. What I like to call The Great Injustice. It was lunchtime at primary school, and I was enjoying a game with a girl called Anna with whom I had something of an off-on-off-on friendship in that way primary school kids do. Particularly kids of the opposite sex.

I forget the exact details of said game, but it involved swordfighting. Or rather, stick-fighting. Our school field had a number of big trees on it, and they often dropped decent-size sticks that were great for mock swordfights. And so it was that Anna and I were staging some sort of battle for some reason. It was fun. Lunchtime ended and we went inside.

When I got home that evening, I got absolutely bollocked. Turns out my mother had been wandering past the school field at the time we’d been playing our game, at a point when I’d evidently been “winning”. As a result, I found myself in a lot of trouble for “hitting a girl with a stick”. And no amount of protestation could convince my parents that it had, in fact, been just a game, and if you talked to Anna she would back up my story. Because, after all, who believes the screeches that come out of the mouth of an eight-year old when they’re in trouble?

Hmm. These aren’t terribly positive memories, are they? Perhaps I should make more of an effort to remember things that didn’t freak me out or make me incandescent with an eight-year old’s rage!

#oneaday, Day 260: In Between

I don’t watch much TV, unless you count DVD box sets of favourite series like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel. British TV has three main types: utterly terrible (Last of the Summer Wine, Dad’s Army, anything involving Eamon Holmes), moderately inoffensive (usually involving people wandering around houses going “hmm, it’s got character”) and bloody brilliant (Spaced, Black Books, The IT Crowd, QI). One of the latter category I will always make an effort to watch is The Inbetweeners from Channel 4.

For the uninitiated, The Inbetweeners is a show about a group of four sixth formers (college-age 16-18 year olds, to the Americans among you). And it doesn’t pull any punches whatsoever. Rather than being the sanitised view of school/college life that you see in most shows, this show is how it is. At least if you grew up in the late 90s or beyond. Possibly before; I couldn’t say, since I only went through my late teens once and did so in the late 90s.

By “realistic”, I mean “foul-mouthed, disgusting and sex-obsessed”. And yet the characters involved are somehow likeable despite being, in many cases, terrible human beings. It’s the contrasts that work well; there’s Will the “specky twat”, Simon, who is relatively normal despite stropping at his parents every five seconds, Jay the sex-obsessed, lying arsehole and Neil who is so very, painfully stupid. They’re the perfect comic foils to each other, and the best thing about the show is that I know (or have at least met) all four of them at some points in my life. And no, I shan’t be sharing who each one of them reminds me of!

The other thing that works so well is the variety of scrapes that they all get into. They’re all situations that will be familiar to anyone who remembers being a sixth former. Getting your first car and it being crap. Panicking over sexual encounters. Taking advice from your friends even when you know they’re a bunch of complete fucking idiots. And finding your place in the world.

I’m probably making this sound deeper than it actually is; mostly it’s a comedy show with a wide variety of gross-out humour and a foul mouth. But despite its extremeness at times, it remains consistently entertaining, hilarious and, at times, horrifically uncomfortable.

If I didn’t know so many people who loved watching it, I’d say it was perfect viewing for an exclusive audience of teenage boys… or at least those who remember being teenage boys. But judging from my Twitter feed there are a wide variety of people who love the show and feel much like I do; they’ll make a specific effort to watch it and will happily quote it at every opportunity.

Channel 4, despite being the home of Big Brother for so long, has long been the home of awesome shows like this. Let’s hope there are many more like it in the future; and that audiences around the world get to enjoy them too. With the content as it is, I couldn’t say if it would ever make it onto American TV (tonight’s episode featured Simon punching himself in the dick whilst shouting “GET BIG, YOU CUNT!” for example) but for those of you across the pond who like the idea of “kids talking like kids” and doing things that kids do, be sure to check it out.

#oneaday, Day 259: Home Again

I prepared the above comic in advance just in case I was too knackered to do a proper one upon returning from London. And I am pretty knackered. But I managed to get my ass outside and go running tonight. At 9pm. In the dark. In a country village. At least I remembered to take a torch with me this time; less stumbling wildly into darkness and a little more Alan Wake. Though with less of whatever that game has in it (because I still, to my shame, haven’t played it yet. I KNOW, I KNOW, all right?) and a little more… well, just running. And walking.

I’m following the Couch to 5K programme (again… I started once before) that was originally introduced to me by the fine gentleman that is Mr Calin Grajko. Given that I’m presently in the middle of nowhere (well… the nearest gym is seven miles away) running seems like a safe, easy option to get some exercise without needing any 1) expense and 2) travel. The thing with gyms is, they’re cool and all, but if you’re already feeling lethargic and not wanting to leave the house, then travelling somewhere that is going to cause you to be grunting, breathless and possibly in pain is likely not high on your agenda. Unless you have a favourite hooker at that classy brothel you like so much.

But with running, yes you still have to leave your house, but you don’t have to go anywhere to get started. The world is your gym. And rather than staring at your sweaty, gasping self for half an hour in those mirrors that gyms insist on putting absolutely bloody everywhere, you can take in the scenery. You can take different routes for variety and challenges. You can run in the dark. You can run in the middle of the day. In the cold. In the warm. In the wet. And you can use fancy-pants iPhone gadgetry to analyse your runs in a level of detail that you really don’t need to. Or, possibly, attempt to run a route which lets you draw a giant cock on Google Maps. (I haven’t done this. But having just thought of it, now I think I pretty much have to.)

So far I’ve completed Week 2, Day 1 of the programme. This meant that tonight was the first time I was running for a bit longer, but also walking for a bit longer too. The pattern for this week is run for 90 seconds, walk for 2 minutes, 6 times. Last week it was run for 60 seconds, walk for 90 seconds, 8 times. This week sounded like it should be easier. It isn’t! Although as I’ve found previously with exercising, it’s actually surprisingly quick to build up a little bit of stamina. I’m obviously not at the stage where I could even think about running a 5k without collapsing dead yet, but I’ve noticed a marginal difference between how easy it is to keep going since the first day I started.

Just gotta keep it up! Fortunately, there’s a good iPhone app to keep the motivation up. It’s called Get Running and it’s really very simple; it’s basically a glorified timer with vocal feedback telling you when to start and stop running, walking and so forth. It also tracks how far you are through the programme and suggests which day you should do next, as well as allowing you to tweet your progress. The nice thing about the vocal feedback is that it’s recorded by a real person, which makes it infinitely more motivational than some robot going “You have… RUN… One. point? SIX! Miles.”

Anyway. I have a bed to get to very shortly. And then lots and lots of things to write in this coming week. Adieu.

#oneaday, Day 258: More Eurogamer Thoughts

Apologies to those of you who don’t give a damn about teh gaemz. But, well, I’m spending the weekend in the company of lots of new and shiny ones so I thought it was probably worth sharing a few brief thoughts on the noteworthy ones. Of course, there are also some “official writeups” around the place for you to enjoy – today I wrote about Dragon Age II, for example.

Dragon Age II, incidentally, is simply marvellous. I loved the first one (and am, in fact, currently replaying it) but only felt mild interest towards the sequel for some reason. I felt exactly the same about Mass Effect 2, in fact, and ended up absolutely loving that. Having played the demo of Dragon Age II… yeah. That’s now a day-one purchase. They’ve fixed the niggly graphical issues of the first game, added a protagonist that actually talks (and is player-designable, like Mass Effect‘s Shepard) and made the combat make a bit more sense with a controller.

Some PC gamers have been a bit sniffy about this, thinking that it’s evidence of the series “dumbing down”, especially after the first game was a proposed return to BioWare’s roots. But the cinematic nature of Dragon Age makes it ideal for playing one the couch via the big screen. So why shouldn’t it be designed with console play in mind?

Regardless of your opinions on these decisions… it’s looking solid, and I’m very much looking forward to it. It is to Dragon Age: Origins as Mass Effect 2 was to Mass Effect. That is to say, a massive improvement in almost every way.

Besides Dragon Age (which I had to wait for ages to play, and then had to play standing up, which made my shoulders ache) I also had a go at Motorstorm Apocalypse (which let me sit down, but made me wear 3D glasses). This was good fun. There were elements of Split/Second to the “driving amidst chaos” gameplay, though, there was less of the unpredictability of Disney’s title. It was very clear that Apocalypse‘s environmental hazards are scripted rather than triggered by players or AI. It’ll be interesting to see how this works in multiplayer, as many of the effects seemed to be timed conveniently to happen just as the player passed.

Apocalypse was notable for having probably the best 3D effect that I’ve seen so far; that said, the technology is still clearly flawed at the moment. Graphics are low-resolution, jaggedy and run at a poor frame rate. They also seem to flicker quite a bit, and it’s easy to feel yourself going cross-eyed.

Dominating the show floor near the entrance was Def Jam: RapStar. The Eurogamer Expo, which was mostly filled with white nerds, was probably not the best place to show off this game. You couldn’t fault the booth’s staff for their enthusiasm, though, as they kept up a constantly energetic and noisy display all day. Of course, being not the world’s biggest fan of that type of music (to say the least) I found it incredibly irritating. And I wasn’t alone. Still, at least a few people seemed to be enjoying it.

But seriously. That game has fucking N-Dubz in it, which is enough reason to curse its name for all eternity. Not only that, but an N-Dubz song about Facebook. Seriously. Watch this. It’s an embarrassment.

Do you really want to stand in front of your TV and sing that? Yes? Then I don’t think we can be friends any more.

Settling down to a quiet night this evening before stepping back into the breach for the last time tomorrow. To anyone else attending, apparently there’s a Tube strike tomorrow evening, too, so you may want to consider leaving the show early.

Normal business (well, as normal as it ever gets) will resume tomorrow evening. Possibly!