#oneaday Day 692: Trailer Park

It was the Spike TV VGAs last night, supposedly one of the biggest nights of the year in gaming. As usual, the awards themselves took a back seat to misogyny, a lack of respect for what gaming has become and all manner of other nonsense, but that's not what I'm going to write about today — plenty of other people have already been commenting on the matter having actually endured the whole thing, so are in a better position to comment on the event itself than I am.

Instead, I thought I'd comment on the concept of trailers, and why the fact that some people will happily fill their pants over a trailer is such a mystery to me.

This fact was really hammered home to me as the Star Wars: The Old Republic hype train got into motion earlier this year. We saw some CG trailers with absolutely zero gameplay, and yet people were getting excited about the game. It was patently obvious that the game would not be anything like those trailers suggested, making them almost entirely useless as a "preview" of what is to come, and yet they still mustered up excitement. When gameplay footage for The Old Republic did eventually emerge, it turned out that it looked suspiciously like a World of Warcraft-style MMORPG with Mass Effect's conversation system. This is less exciting.

The same also occurred with Dead Island. Dead Island introduced itself to the world with a genuinely harrowing trailer that was beautifully shot and scored with the perfect soundtrack. But again, there was no gameplay in evidence, and it was depressingly obvious that the game would be nothing like the intimate, "personal" experience that the trailer appeared to promise. And when the game did eventually appear in the form of a first-person action RPG, it was a bit of a disappointment. Sure, it's not a bad game, but I've got all the "battering zombies around the head" excitement I need with Left 4 Dead and Borderlands' Zombie Island of Dr. Ned expansion pack.

A big part of the reason people watch the VGAs is for the trailers, judging by Twitter and a lot of the discussion which has followed. But should we be demanding more from our trailers? As it is, the games industry is following the template set out by movies — but they're two fundamentally different media. Games are interactive, movies are passive. So why are we advertising games in the same way as movies?

Well, apparently, because it works. Activision pay for high-profile slots during giant sporting events to promote Call of Duty. People jizz their keks over CG The Old Republic trailers that have nothing to do with the game. People hail Dead Island as "one to watch" based on an (admittedly excellent) trailer that, again, has nothing to do with the game itself.

Is this a bad thing, though? Will the fact that The Old Republic actually revolves around fairly traditional MMO play rather than the high-octane excitement implied by the trailers cause some people to cry foul? Did Dead Island warrant the amount of attention lavished on it by the press following the striking nature of its trailer? Should we be so quick to judge upcoming games as looking "great" or "crap" based purely on short snippets we see at awards ceremonies which otherwise insult our intelligence?

I don't have an easy answer for that, but I can tell you what I think personally: I don't give a crap about trailers. Give me a demo, an early version or even just some simple commentated footage of someone playing the game and I'll be much more excited. Don't insult my intelligence by showing me something which I know very well won't represent what the game is really about. Take a leaf out of indie developers' books and provide an interesting, well-cut trailer that shows what the game is and why I should be excited about it. Good quality work should speak for itself.

What do you think? Trailer buff or cynic?

#oneaday Day 691: Satisfactory is Unacceptable

It's been a while since I had a teaching-related rant, but this article helpfully reminded me why I'm in no hurry to go back, despite being currently out of a job.

Any profession where it's considered unacceptable to be graded "satisfactory" is not a profession I want to work in. And I'd argue it's a profession that's in need of a good shakeup.

Where do these rankings come from? OfSTED, or the Office for Standards in Education if you're unfamiliar and/or foreign. Every so often, a school gets a bunch of inspectors descend upon the place to nose around everything it's up to. As part of this process, inspectors drop in to a number of lessons for 15-20 minutes and then assign an arbitrary grade to the lesson, branding it anywhere between "Inadequate" (4) and "Outstanding" (1). These grades are also applied to other areas in the school, such as behaviour, "value for money" (i.e. how well the school is budgeting and spending what money it gets from the local authority) and numerous other factors.

Fine. I get the need to inspect places and ensure they're doing their job. What I don't get is the inconsistency in OfSTED's approach. 15-20 minutes observation of one lesson is not enough to understand how well a teacher teaches. That teacher might have the worst class in the world, and may have scored a major victory on that day simply by having them sat down and listening for once. But if the children aren't deemed to be "learning anything", then BAM! That's an "inadequate" mark right there.

Or it might not be — it may well be a "satisfactory" grade, depending on what else happens.

Now, the word "satisfactory" carries certain assumptions with it. Namely, it implies that the person declaring something to be "satisfactory" is somehow satisfied with the thing in question. While something that is "satisfactory" is not the best thing in the world, it's certainly acceptable and does what it is supposed to.

Not in teaching. "Satisfactory" is somehow seen as a bad thing, despite the standards for branding lessons as "good" or "outstanding" being 1) completely arbitrary and largely down to the opinion of the inspector rather than specific, measurable criteria and 2) extremely difficult to attain, even for the most talented teachers. And if you're in a difficult school teaching a difficult class, God help you.

New head of OfSTED Sir Michael Wilshaw is aiming to do away with the "satisfactory" branding and replacing it with "grade 3". Not only that, he's proposing that automatic pay rises for teachers whose work is considered "satisfactory" should cease, instead being reserved for those graded "good" or better.

This would be fine if the grading of a teacher was based on more than a short, not necessarily representative observation of part of a lesson. Actually, would it? If you're doing your job, wouldn't you expect a pay rise every so often? It's been that way in teaching for some time now, with yearly pay rises for your first few years on the job before you have to go through a procedure known as "Threshold" to get on to the upper pay scale. The demands for meeting Threshold are pretty stringent, so some teachers won't get through anyway — surely that's enough control on pay rises?

(Note: I haven't been teaching for a while, so pay systems may have changed since then. The above is how I understood it when I was employed by the system.)

Perhaps most obnoxious, however, is Sir Michael's quote where he noted that "if anyone says to you that ‘staff morale is at an all-time low’ you will know you are doing something right."

Sorry, Sir Michael, but this is where you lost any credibility with me whatsoever. You should not be actively trying to sap morale — an OfSTED inspection is already an incredibly stressful experience. I know — I've been through two, including one whose result caused the school to go in to Special Measures (essentially meaning that it gets re-inspected on a much more regular basis than normal, and is at serious risk of closure). They weren't pleasant experiences, so to imply that your staff should be encouraging a lack of morale among struggling teachers is pretty shameful.

Teaching is the most stressful job I've ever had. It drove me to a nervous breakdown, such was the stress of everything I had to think about at once coupled with torrents of abuse from hormonal, uncooperative teenagers. Sometimes you can use all the "strategies" in the book and nothing works with a difficult class or a particularly uncooperative child. Sometimes the behaviour of a pupil does disrupt the flow of a lesson. Should that be blamed on the teacher if the teacher in question does everything they're allowed to do to prevent the situation from escalating further? If the teacher in question is having difficulty dealing with particular pupils, should that teacher be supported or vilified?

I think you know the answer to that one.

So in short, then, I'm not sorry I left teaching. And if this is the way that the regulatory body for teaching is going, then I want absolutely no part of it whatsoever. Teaching should be about inspiring children to do great things; to teach them about the world; to encourage them to try new things, and to expand their knowledge of the things they know. It shouldn't be about meeting arbitrary criteria and being judged by people with no sense of context. And it certainly shouldn't be about being deliberately demoralised by the people supposedly regulating the profession.

Good luck to anyone entering the educational system at the moment. You're going to need it, from the sound of things.

#oneaday Day 690: Tickets, Please!

RememberTheme Park? That awesome sim from Peter Molyneux's pre-Lionhead studio Bullfrog? Good, wasn't it? Not only did it have bags of charm and character, but its attractive presentation (albeit with a few grammatical errors — "charity begin's at home" anyone?) masked an incredibly deep, immensely satisfying business sim.

And the things you could tweak and spy on! You could find out what an individual little person wandering around was thinking. You could adjust the amount of salt on the chips and inflate the prices of the conveniently adjacent drinks stand. There were tons of rides on offer. Even building your queues was a strategic challenge — how do you make them look shorter than they actually are? And when you had a badass park, you could sit back and watch the money roll in, satisfied with the knowledge of a job well done.

Fast forward to this week, and Theme Park has been released on iOS. "Yay!" you may be thinking, eager to sink your teeth into something with more depth than the ubiquitous Tiny Tower. "Finally, a true classic of PC gaming resurrected for the smartphone era!"

It's not an unreasonable thing to be excited about. Theme Park's mouse-driven interface would be ideally suited to a touchscreen, particularly a nice big one like an iPad, and the original game itself still holds up well today.

As you may already know, however, the version of Theme Park which has hit iOS is not the original Bullfrog classic. Very far from it, in fact. It's a brand new game.

No bad thing, you might be thinking. RollerCoaster Tycoon picked up the park management reins a while back and has been doing well since, so why not incorporate some advances in the genre?

Why not indeed. Instead, EA in their infinite wisdom have decided to turn Theme Park into a freemium social game with quite the most outrageously priced premium items I've ever seen.

Let's take the social game angle first. Aesthetically, many social games resemble the isometric 3D strategy games of the late 90s in terms of visual presentation, but that's where the resemblance ends. Gameplay is generally pretty free of any strategy, instead involving buying the most expensive/best item you can afford/have unlocked, and then clicking on everything you've built every few minutes to collect cash and experience points. As you level up, you unlock different items. Occasionally there are incredibly patronising quests to complete. The whole thing is one big Skinner box, designed to get you hooked enough to want to spend money.

Real money can be spent on the acquisition of "Super Tickets", which can themselves be spent on either speeding up lengthy build times, unlocking rides early or, and here's the kicker, purchasing some "premium" rides which can only be bought with Tickets. If you've played The Sims Social, it's just like the items that can only be purchased with premium currency SimCash.

So far, so freemium, you might think. But the real kick in the teeth is the price of some of these items. The most expensive rides cost in the region of £35 to purchase. £35. For one virtual item in one not very good game. That's £35 you could spend on an actual game in a shop. Or a large selection of actual full games on the App Store. You could even purchase several Square Enix titles from the App Store for that, which just goes to show how insanely priced it is.

Fortunately, App Store reviewers, usually imbecilic morons but for once seeing the Emperor in all his nudey glory, have been rightly panning the game for this. Unfortunately, it only takes one "whale" to buy even one of those premium items to make the whole thing worthwhile for EA.

So in short, I'm disappointed. I'm disappointed that such a beloved game franchise is tarnished with this nonsense. And I'm disappointed at the shameless money-grubbing that this title represents.

But am I surprised? Of course I'm not, and that's perhaps the saddest thing of all.

#oneaday Day 689: Noire Patterns

I've been playing L.A. Noire recently. I haven't finished it yet — I'm partway through the Vice cases at present — but I feel it's worth sharing some thoughts. I didn't play the game when it first came out for various reasons, and always fully intended to grab the PC version, especially once it was rumoured to come with all the additional DLC which had been released for the console editions.

The first thing is that that facial animation tech is absolutely gobsmacking. I've never seen character faces that look quite so natural. Sure, the bodies are sometimes a bit wooden, and occasional non-motion captured animations make themselves glaringly obvious, but the nuances in the facial expressions make it a sight to behold. So kudos for that.

Next up, there is waaaaay too much driving. I looked at my stats in the options menu and found that I'd spent well over 2 hours driving from place to place. Sure, you can skip over these sequences, but then you miss out on some of the conversations between protagonist Cole and his partner, which help with characterisation.

This leads on to the whole question of whether or not this needed to be an open-world game. It's cool to be able to drive around L.A. and see the sights, sure, but I tend to find myself ignoring the scenery and just trying to get to the destination as quickly as possible. I don't know L.A., either, so I don't have the benefit of being able to go "Ahhh, I recognise that!" along the way.

Further to the "open world" thing, there really doesn't need to be all the extra achievement-whoring crap. I have precisely zero desire to drive around looking for film reels, police badges and hidden vehicles because it's plainly obvious that is not what the game is about. It's a police drama, about solving crimes. And it does that job pretty well — so why is all the other nonsense in there other than for padding? Who knows.

In terms of the game structure outside of this nonsense, it's very good. I really like the idea of a game being structured as a set of "short stories" like L.A. Noire is. Each case stands by itself as a standalone story, but also fits into a bigger picture. In many ways, it's kind of like a TV series, with each of the "desks" Cole works on being like a season on a show. There's clearly some sort of overarching plot, too, though that hasn't made itself hugely obvious as yet, except through the newspapers you occasionally find around the place. At least, I'm assuming all that becomes relevant at some point.

The investigation and interrogation gameplay is all right, but there's a few flaws, particularly when it comes to the interrogation side of things. Sometimes you find yourself in a situation where you have an idea that a piece of evidence in your inventory would prove a suspect is lying, but upon pressing the "lie" button, Cole proceeds to make a completely different accusation. This is mildly annoying, but doesn't seem to impact things too much.

Then there's the glaring plot holes that come about if you do things in the wrong order. Trouble is, sometimes it's not clear what order you should do things in. I ended one case with a one-star rating and I'm not sure how I could have done things differently to provide a different outcome. And yet in another case, the villain wound up dead and my "review" screen said that there was no evidence or witness testimony. Bizarre.

Despite these flaws, though, I'm enjoying the game. The story is interesting enough to keep me playing and while the characters aren't necessarily what I'd call likeable, they're certainly interesting. It is a little jarring to continually hear characters refer to Cole's family and yet we never see them, however. Or perhaps that's a plot point — I don't know. I guess I'll find out as I get towards the end.

So far as evolution of the adventure genre goes, I'm not sure L.A. Noire presents quite the right way to do it. It certainly does a lot of things right — I'd love to see that animation tech used in a more traditional adventure, for example — but there's all this useless fluff in the middle. And stealth sequences are never fun, unless you're playing Metal Gear Solid or Thief — games specifically designed around the mechanic. Everyone knows that. At least L.A. Noire has the good grace to allow you to skip them if you fail them three times — a nice throwback to the days of the awful arcade sequences in Dynamix's adventure games such as Rise of the Dragon and Heart of China.

So I'll play it through to its conclusion, for sure. Game of the Year? No way. But it's certainly a solid offering that will be of interest if you enjoy adventure gaming or crime dramas.

#oneaday Day 688: Bananaphone

[Edit: Inadvertently only saved this as a draft yesterday instead of publishing. My apologies!]

The Internet is full of weird and wonderful things, as doubtless you well know. Most of these things are designed purely to waste time or make you laugh — or, in most cases, both.

Such is the case with the wonderful Procatinator, which has brought all sense of productivity on the Internet to a standstill over the last few days.

What is it? Well, as you might have gathered from the title, it's a procrastination tool that features cats. Specifically, amusing cat GIF images which are presented on a loop, coupled with a strangely appropriate (and clearly carefully-selected) piece of music.

The interesting thing about it is that obviously someone has spent a fair amount of time on this. The website itself is pretty slick, and it couldn't have been easy to collate a huge library of cat GIFs and link them to pieces of music.

Here are some highlights:

Cat number 33 features the Beastie Boys. It's alarming quite how well this works.

Cat number 34 features the Bananaphone song, which I defy you to evacuate from your head once you've heard it once. Particularly when you relate it to the image herein.

Cat number 14 is notable purely for the entertaining image of a cat using a sewing machine.

Cat number 6 is… just, well, see for yourself.

I'm impressed at the dedication of whoever was behind Procatinator, because they've taken the time to archive a huge collection of cat GIFs and then go to the trouble of putting them on a website which inspires pure joy in everyone who sees it.

I wonder if they put it on their CV?

#oneaday Day 687: E for Exploitative, A for Arseholes

EA and I are done. I will not be purchasing any of their future titles (with the possible exception of BioWare titles — though even those are becoming prone to the problem I'm about to describe) and I think the world should pay attention to what they're up to, rather than simply letting them get away with it.

What, then, is their sin?

Exploitation of consumers, to put it in simple, general terms. This accusation covers a variety of unpleasant behaviour, and none of it is good for people who like playing games and holding on to their money. Let's delve into these things one at a time.

Origin

Let's start with EA's digital distribution platform Origin. I don't have a problem with digital distribution platforms which aren't Steam, but EA needs to accept that I, along with many other gamers out there, choose to rely on Steam for the vast majority of our PC gaming needs.

There are a variety of reasons for this, not least of which is Steam's ubiquity and social functionality. If you want to see what your friends are up to in an Xbox Live style, chances are, you'll be able to see via Steam. Most people even add their non-Steam games to their Steam library, so you'll always be able to see what they're up to.

Origin has designs on this too, with its own integrated social functionality, but no facility to add non-Origin games. And given that the platform launched with only EA titles, few people are going to want to switch to Origin as their primary means of communicating with friends during gameplay. It's just silly to try. Steam works, no pun intended. It works well. That's why it's popular.

Alongside this, there's the shady business of EA removing its titles from Steam on the grounds of mysterious, non-specific "policies" that supposedly no other digital distribution services impose on poor little EA. Funny how these objections only arose shortly after Origin showed up.

And then there's the fact that increasing numbers of people are reporting that they're losing access to their games — even single-player titles — following often wrongful bans from the EA forums. Granted, some people who have been in touch deserved a forum ban (come on, do you really think making your username "TheGreatRapist" is really going to depict you as a fine, upstanding member of the community?) but even then, there is no way that behaviour on forums should prevent people from accessing the content they have paid for. Rock, Paper, Shotgun is running a good investigation into the matter at present.

And then there's EA's stubbornness even when it comes to online games. In their recent mobile releases (which we'll come on to shortly) all online functionality is handled not through Game Center which is, let's not forget, built in to iOS, but instead through Origin. This has the ridiculous side-effect of meaning that you can't use the Game Center app to do things like check high scores or compare games — something which it is designed for.

Anyway. Enough about Origin — except for the fact that EA's adoption of that particular name is like rubbing dirt into the good name of Origin Systems, who produced some of the finest games ever created.

Project Ten Dollar

This is all the rage now, and not just with EA. I blame EA for introducing it, however, since it was they who talked about it first. But it is not cool to lock off content from full-price games, whether it's single player or multiplayer. If I pay £40/$60 for a new game, I damn well expect to get what I paid for on the disc without having to enter a selection of alphanumeric codes. And if I buy a used copy of the game, I likewise expect to get full access to the game. People don't tear out the last five chapters of a second-hand book, people don't erase five random scenes from a second-hand DVD. So why should a game be gutted for those of us who didn't want to buy it new, whether that's due to financial constraints or simply being unable to find a new copy?

An episode of Extra Credits had a good solution for this which would be perfectly palatable to me. If they must lock off content, then charge less for the game in the first place. Sell me a disc with the single player gameplay on for considerably less than $60 and charge me an additional $15-20 for the multiplayer mode — a $15 to $20 that I don't feel obliged to pay, largely because I rarely play multiplayer modes, anyway — particularly in games that don't need them.

As it is, Online Passes are a transparent method of fleecing more money out of consumers. They are indefensible.

Drip-Feed DLC

This largely relates to BioWare games. I would much rather have a full-on expansion pack for $15-20 than drip-fed DLC which often adds very little to the experience. The few pieces of Dragon Age DLC I've played really weren't worth the money — they didn't even integrate with the main campaign — and they've put me off checking out Mass Effect 2's offerings.

Part of this is for pricing reasons. But part of it is, again, due to the fact that I'd much rather have the whole game up front. In the case of Mass Effect 2, why not hold the release back and include the content in the game? Answer: because it makes more money, which is kind of the root of all these problems. Money-making trumps consumer convenience and goodwill every time.

Thar Be Whales!

By far the most obnoxious behaviour that EA has been indulging in recently relates to its mobile games. First of all, they updated their iOS version of Tetris. This is not, in and of itself, a bad thing. All iOS developers update their games fairly regularly, whether that's with bugfixes or additional content. And, for the most part, buying that app in the first place means that developer is happy to provide additional content to you for free throughout the product's active development lifecycle.

Not so with EA. They removed the original version of Tetris from the App Store before replacing it with the new version, meaning that even people who had already bought the original and wanted to take advantage of the new features had to pay again. Dishonest.

Couple that with the fact that the game has added compulsive, manipulative social game features such as an utterly meaningless "rank bar" and virtual currency — both of which you can pay real money to jack up at a higher rate — as well as a subscription option (for Tetris! Seriously!) and you get something altogether unpleasant.

Then there's Theme Park. Theme Park was a brilliant strategy/building game which many people would love to play again today in its original form. It doesn't need anything changing. But no — EA decided that it really needs to be a gameplay-free social game, complete with aforementioned compulsive, manipulative mechanics such as an XP bar and purchasable virtual currency. Not only that, though, but some of the rides in the game cost up to $100 of real money to purchase. Let that sink in for a moment. To buy certain attractions in Theme Park, you need to pay more than the cost of one and a half full-price console titles.

The trouble is, there are just enough idiots out there who have more money than sense who will pay these ludicrous prices just to be "the best". These people are unaffectionately known as "whales", for obvious reasons — and it only takes a few of them to make such a business strategy worthwhile.

In all, I'm pretty ashamed of EA right now, and have no desire to give them any of my money for the foreseeable future. The trouble I have is that they're swallowing up otherwise reputable companies like BioWare and forcing them to fit in with their shady business practices. I have no doubt that Mass Effect 3 will be a great game, but I also know that it will have an Online Pass, it will doubtless have a "robust post-release DLC strategy", it will surely cut out content from the main game to sell back to me at a later date, and it will almost certainly only be available on Origin for PC.

I long for the days when EA were the ones with the funny logo that looked like EOA, and they make games like M.U.L.E. and Racing Destruction Set. I know you can't go back, but you can move in a direction which doesn't make you look like you just want to squeeze your customers for every penny they've got, rather than provide them with quality entertainment.

In summary: sod off, EA. Get back to me when you've had some humble pie.

Talking Point: What do you do when a favourite developer (BioWare) is an cahoots with an organisation like EA? I like BioWare games, as I've said above. But I'm strongly tempted to not buy any more for the reasons outlined above. I certainly won't be purchasing anything from Origin and especially if it's an Origin exclusive. Competition is good. Removing your products from the competition (Steam) is not.

#oneaday Day 686: The Times, They Have Changed

Been playing a selection of games recently. Besides the bullet hell joy I mentioned yesterday, I've also been playing L.A. Noire on PC and Neverwinter Nights 2 along with a bunch of emulated games that were absolutely totally positively legal to download. Between these games, I've been getting a pretty diverse gaming experience, and it's also allowed me to reflect on how much gaming has changed over the years.

Let's focus specifically on Neverwinter Nights 2 for a moment. Structurally, it's relatively similar to the RPGs we see BioWare coming out with today (despite being developed by Obsidian) but the pacing is completely different to what we see in something like Mass Effect or even Dragon Age, its nearest "modern" equivalent.

Remember the fantasy cliche of the lead character starting as a farmhand or something and eventually becoming some sort of godslayer by the end of the game? That's pretty much what Neverwinter Nights 2 does. You start the game in a small wetlands village in the middle of nowhere, just as their annual Harvest Fair is taking place. And before anything exciting happens at all, you have to go around the fair, complete several mundane tasks and, in collaboration with your party members, complete a number of simple challenges to introduce you to the basics of combat, magic and the like.

It works well mechanically, but in terms of that immediate "BAM!" factor that draws you in to the game, it's somewhat lacking. Gamers looking for some sort of immediate gratification or heroics will probably find themselves disappointed for at least an hour or two before Plot Starts Happening.

It was the same in the earlier D&D titles like Baldur's Gate. The first couple of hours of Baldur's Gate were spent inside the walls of Candlekeep, doing errands for wizards and clearing out basements of rats. RPG cliche stuff — and the sort of thing we don't tend to find ourselves doing too much these days because people want to get straight to the heroics. And that's fair enough.

What the snail-like openings for these games do provide, though, is a brilliant sense of unease once you finally get out into the world to embark on your quest. You may have been able to best the local hard men in the Harvest Brawl, but what are you going to do when something that actually wants to kill you comes lurching at you?

The answer, in all likelihood, is die. This particular breed of RPG isn't afraid to kick your ass right up until about level 5 or so — only then do you start getting to a stage where you can hold your own in a fight. And you level a lot slower than you do in a JRPG.

This is something of a double-edged sword. On the one hand, early combats become an exercise in managing your very limited capabilities, and simple victories over wild creatures feel like you've achieved something. This is realistic. Imagine if a wolf attacked you right now. Would you be able to handle it? If you did manage to survive the encounter without your throat being torn out, you'd feel pretty badass, right? That's what happens in Neverwinter Nights 2.

The flip-side to this is that the second your curiosity gets the better of you and you wander blindly through a door you perhaps shouldn't, you're immediately confronted by a dude who shouts "I AM AN EVIL WIZARD!" and promptly proceeds to obliterate you with spells you won't be using for a good 40 hours yet. This, too, is realistic (leaving aside the whole "magic isn't real" thing) but is also immensely frustrating, particularly as the autosave system in Neverwinter Nights 2 and, indeed, the Baldur's Gate series is best described as "erratic" and "unpredictable". It's very easy to lose lots of progress because of one stupid act if you don't get into the habit of perpetually whacking that F12 (quicksave) key when things start looking a bit hairy.

Is this good or bad? It's certainly different. In playing Neverwinter Nights 2, I've had to adjust my mindset to a somewhat more "hardcore RPG" configuration. Rather than being able to charge in blindly to a situation, safe in the knowledge that if it all goes horribly wrong, I'll simply resume from a moment before the fight and try again, I have to think. I have to pause. I have to strategise. I usually have to turn off the Party AI function because the other characters are overly fond of running in to the middle of a large group of enemies before getting their appendages hacked off within a matter of seconds.

It's certainly a different approach. Frustrating AI aside, it makes you a much more cautious player, which is sort of fun. The Souls series is based on this concept, after all, though executed somewhat differently. It also means that when you do reach the high levels of badassdom, you really feel like you earned them, rather than the more gradual trickle-feed approach which JRPGs' rapid levelling provides.

It's an approach that won't be to everyone's taste — and those who crave the immediacy of modern games will likely switch off the game the first time they're downed by a pathetic skeleton minion, never to return. But perseverance and patience are key, and once you get your head around that, there's a rewarding experience to be had.

Neverwinter Nights 2's basic campaign is regarded by some as "not great" — particularly in comparison to its expansion packs, which are supposedly excellent — but I've been enjoying it so far. Already we have some strong characterisation in the party members — something Obsidian is always good at — and a few hints of what the Big Plot might be, though no sign of whatever the Big Bad might be as yet. I am still only on the game's first act, however, so there's plenty of time for epic stupidity to occur along the way, and I'll be looking forward to it.

In the meantime, there's bandits to kill, skeletons to shatter into pieces and zombies to get diseased by.

#oneaday Day 685: I'm In Hell

Bullet hell, that is.

Despite not being very good at them, bullet hell shooters are rapidly becoming one of my favourite genres to unwind with. Actually, "unwind" might not be quite the right word, given the sense of tension they tend to provoke, but… oh, I don't know. They're fun, all right?

Most recently, I've been playing Gundemonium Recollection, which is available on PSN and Steam. It's cheap, too — at about £8 for it and two other excellent shmups, it's certainly one of the more low-cost entries in the genre out there. Hell, even Cave's iPhone games cost more than that.

Not only does Gundemonium Recollection have a fabulous title, it also exemplifies many of the things that I — as a relative newcomer — believe are "typical" for the genre. We have a cute, big-eyed anime art style. We have lots and lots of bullets. We have game mechanics that go a little beyond "move" and "shoot" but not by much. And we have beautifully, wonderfully cheesy music.

The whole aesthetic is one of the things I find most endearing about the whole thing. Speak to your stereotypical dudebro about what constitutes a "hardcore" game and, depending on how into their games they are, you'll get all manner of different answers. They will likely involve either first person shooters or MOBA games, however, and almost certainly will feature the colour brown prominently. What they likely won't feature is 18th century anime girls with Old West-style revolvers flying through the sky and shooting down everything from things that look like Angry Birds to scantily-clad women with massive knockers sitting astride gigantic rocket launchers.

And yet, from experience, I know what the more hardcore game is.

You can get good at, say, Call of Duty or Halo relatively quickly, and certainly be able to beat the games on their Normal difficulties without too much, well, difficulty. They're friendly to short, quick-fire play sessions in multiplayer, and even the single player campaigns tend to be split into bite-size, episodic chunks, with you running from one setpiece to the next — in Call of Duty's case, perpetually following along behind an NPC who gets to have all the fun while you watch — towards an eventual, inevitable conclusion.

Gundemonium Recollection, meanwhile, is hard with a capital ARRRRRRGH. While the whole game is no more than about 15-20 minutes in length, as is typical for the genre, reaching the end of the game is a significant feat, particularly as you're encouraged to attempt it without continuing. And once you do manage to make it through to the end, you then have your score to consider. How can you pump it up? How can you maximise your scoring potential in each stage?

Bullet hell shooters are less mindless than their name suggests. The stereotypical "shmup" involves dodging up and down while hurling increasingly-ridiculous weaponry at incoming enemies. And yet in bullet hell shooters, the actual "shooting" side of things is the least important factor. The skill you have to practice is dodging all those bullets — no easy task, but successfully pulling it off makes you feel like a badass.

In fact, achieving anything in the game, whether it's progressing twenty seconds further than you did previously or beating your high score, makes you feel like a badass. There is, in fact, quite a comic juxtaposition between how badass you feel having achieved something in the game and the incredibly cute anime art style and music.

Such is the way of Japanese games, though. The culture of "gamer" (whatever that actually means) is significantly different over there, meaning we get little gems such as Gundemonium Recollection and its two sequels springing up out of nowhere and providing something infinitely more fun that Brown Shooty War-Bang Soldier of Duty XIV.

Assuming you don't mind failing. A lot. Perhaps that's the key difference. In a title like Gundemonium Recollection, you can fail. You can fail embarrassingly quickly if you suck as much as I do. Conversely, to go back to our earlier examples of supposedly "hardcore" Western games, there's little to no consequence for failure. Die in a single player Call of Duty level and you just restart from your last checkpoint. Lose a multiplayer match and you can just try again — it doesn't matter at all, because you still got XP and a little closer to the next batch of unlocks.

In practice, you're actually achieving much the same kind of thing in Gundemonium Recollection, only the progress you've made isn't necessarily reflected with perpetually-filling progress bars and unlocks. Rather, you're making progress with your own skills, improving your own abilities at playing the game, and as a natural extension of that, you'll be able to get further, score better, or take on the more frightening difficulty levels. (I haven't graduated off "Novice" yet, and still felt like a badass when I finally took down the final boss.)

So, then, the next time you describe yourself as a "hardcore gamer" to someone, just consider that somewhere out there there's someone playing a game about flying magical girls with revolvers who is infinitely more hardcore than you could ever hope to be.

#oneaday Day 684: The Great... You Know

I am depressed. That much is probably self-evident to those of you who have been following me for a while. Writing about it is often a cathartic experience, though talking about it in person is somewhat more difficult. That's why if you have ever met me face to face, you might not think anything was wrong. But there is, has been for a long time and probably will continue to be for a considerable period to come.

I shan't get into the specifics of this particular bout, as some of them are personal to me and I have no desire to share them or make them public — the whole "losing my job" thing is a contributing factor, but there are other things, too. What I did want to talk about was the effect of a visit from "Des", my own personal black cloud of despair, personified as, well, a big black cloud in the comics I did on this blog a while back (and will be returning to in the New Year).

Depression is different for everyone, and everyone copes with it differently. Some cope with it better than others. Others turn to self-destructive coping mechanisms which cause a spiral of upset both for themselves and — often unwittingly — the people around them. I'm not quite sure where I fall. My behaviour when I get depressed isn't conducive to feeling particularly better, but I don't abuse my body in any way — the closest I come to indulging in any kind of vice is going out and getting a coffee and a cake because I feel like I "deserve" one. That's probably not particularly helpful in and of itself, but it's a different kind of coping mechanism to drink, drugs or self-harm.

"Coping mechanism" is a bit of a misnomer, because very often, it doesn't involve much in the way of actual "coping". For me, when depression hits, it hits hard. I feel like a darkness has descended on me and all I want to do is lie down, close my eyes and let it engulf me. And it does. And once I'm in there, it's very difficult to get out again. Even if I open my eyes to eliminate the physical side of the "darkness", once it's wormed its way into my mind, it's very difficult to summon up the motivation to do anything — even move, at times. It takes an enormous strength of will to break out of that cycle — it sounds ridiculous, I know, but ten minutes before writing this post I was lying on my sofa simply staring into the middle distance, the occasional thought of "I should move" or "I should do something rather than just lying here" being quickly swatted away by a general feeling of complete and total apathy towards everything. The feeling of wanting to cry came and went several times, as did the sense of frustration at the fact that there wasn't one concrete "cause" of the way I was feeling to do something about, or lash out at. Eventually I succeeded in my Will check and managed to lift myself up and muster the strength to sit down and write this.

I'm not sure if writing this is actually helping matters or hindering them. I'm not sure if sharing this sort of thing is a good idea. But getting these difficult thoughts out of my head is my main "coping mechanism", and the way in which I can do that most ably is through writing. Talking is good, too, but that carries with it its own particular set of unique anxieties, too, whereas while I'm writing, it's just me and the blank page in front of me, the words falling into place and explaining the feelings I'm experiencing.

I have never been to the doctor about depression. Actually, that's not quite true. Towards the end of my first stint teaching in UK classrooms (music, secondary) I eventually reached "breaking point" one day. Behaviour of the class was just so appalling that I had to walk out of the room and immediately burst into tears. I was swiftly escorted into the nearby Arts office in the drama department and plied with soothing words. They didn't help. I needed to get out. I left that school that day and didn't come back, getting signed off by my doctor at the time for "work-related stress", which is exactly what it was. Had I not taken that step to say "whoa there, this is too much to handle", I'm not sure I'd be writing this now.

Since then, I haven't returned to the doctors — for anything, in fact, let alone depression. The problem is, I don't know if it would help, were I to show up and say "I think I'm depressed". I don't particularly want to go on medication as that carries with it its whole own set of considerations, and the prospect of counselling makes me concerned about money — particularly as I'm now out of a job. And beyond that, the suggestions are always the same — eat well, get exercise. I know all that, and most of the time I am doing all that.

Depression is an uphill struggle, and every time you reach what looks like the summit you get a period of respite. But before long you're climbing again, scrabbling frantically for a foothold. The goal is always the same: to lift yourself into the clear blue skies above the cloud layer, free from all the darkness below. Some people manage it. Others aren't so lucky.

As for me, I'm a fighter. I'll keep going. I'll get through this shitty period, just like I've got through every previous shitty period in my life. And doubtless there will be more in the future. I just wish I was one of those people who can laugh off adversity and see every annoyance as a new challenge to overcome, rather than a spike trap smacking you repeatedly in the face, sort of like this:

Unfortunately, I very much fall into the latter camp.

#oneaday Day 683: Debrief

So, for the last 30 days I've been doing (almost) nothing but creative writing on here. What have we learned?

Firstly, I remembered that creative writing is fun. Not that I'd particularly forgotten that fact, but I've always enjoyed it, ever since a young age. It's actually knuckling down and doing it that can be the stumbling block for many, though — which is, I guess, what projects like NaNoWriMo and what I was doing here are all about. Once you discipline yourself to do something, then you can do it, no problem — over the course of the last 30 days I've churned out over 30,000 words of creativity. Whether or not they're any good is another matter, of course — but they're there, and once they're there, they can become a starting point to something else, even if that "something else" turns out to be something completely different, simply spurred on by what you've achieved previously.

Secondly, improvisatory storytelling is fun, although not necessarily the most practical way to write something coherent. As I said at the start of the whole exercise, I hadn't planned anything out, created any characters, settings or overarching plot — I was making things up as I went along. This was probably evident from any number of plot holes that I'm sure are still in there, and points where I retroactively made something relevant, perhaps not in the way I'd originally intended. Why? Because when I originally wrote something, I'd had one thing in mind, only to come up with a Brilliant New Idea a couple of days later that made the original something either irrelevant or very difficult to fit in to things.

Thirdly, tenses are a bugger. I made a conscious decision once I introduced Evie's narrative to distinguish the two narrators through their use of tense, but it was so easy to naturally shift to the wrong one throughout the course of one chapter. I'm pretty sure I spotted it every time it happened, but if there are a few examples of incorrect tenses, then I apologise.

Fourthly, I already knew this, but stream of consciousness is a fun way to explore characters. With stream of consciousness writing, you can create an interesting, compelling character and narrative without any other characters being present. The majority of Adam's story was just him, for example, and Evie didn't speak much until later. The characters' internal monologues can provide interesting ways to explore the way they think and feel without having to have conversations with others to make things explicit.

I picked up on the whole "stream of consciousness" thing back at school when we read Jean Rhys' Jane Eyre prequel Wide Sargasso Sea, a book which explores exactly what happened to Mrs Rochester before she became the scary woman in the attic. I can't remember a huge amount about the book itself, but many things I've written since that time have taken the first person stream of consciousness approach, as it's a style in which I enjoy writing. Other influential books from my past include the Adrian Mole series — diary-style writing is often pretty similar to stream of consciousness, after all, though there has to be something of a suspension of disbelief at times as few real diaries would include complete word-for-word transcriptions of conversations that had happened — and (don't laugh) John Grisham's The Rainmaker, which was the first book I ever read that wasn't written in past tense.

On the whole, I'd say the experiment was a success. Tucked away in my Google Docs account right now is 14,455 words of another story I'm writing — and this one I have mostly planned out, or at least have some "key events" and characters in mind. One day I might actually get around to finishing it — and since I find myself with a bit of free time on my hands at the moment, I guess there's no time like the present. As such, assuming no-one suddenly phones/emails me on Monday and hires me, I will start doing a bit of (non-blog) writing each day in lieu of having an actual job. Who knows? Something awesome might come of it. At the very least, a creative project which has been on my drawing board for about a bajillion years might finally come to fruition, which will be satisfying. And, frankly, given some of the dross out there which does make it to publication, I'm pretty sure I can do better. I mean, I know I'm not the perfect writer — no-one is, and to assume so is both arrogant and very, very stupid — but I like to think I'm pretty good, at the very least. And also, you only get better through practice, right?

The one thing I can say about the last year is that I've got a ton of experience writing. I mean, I know I did the year before too, what with contributing to sites like Kombo and GamesAreEvil as well as writing this nonsense every day, but this year it's been my actual full-time job, and for the vast majority of that time I've had the privilege of working with some talented editors who know their craft and give good feedback. Too many outlets these days settle for getting things published as quickly as possible rather than taking their time over ensuring everything is as good as it can be. This year, I've picked up a bunch of little tips to ensure good-quality output. Even if I've had to spend the whole year professionally spelling words like "theorise" and "colour" incorrectly. (Love you, USA.)

So, where to from here? We'll see. It's a weekend coming up (it is, right? Losing one's job causes one to immediately lose all sense of what day it is, in my experience.) so that will be spent attempting to relax and unwind after, frankly, what has been a particularly crappy week. Following that, on Monday, as I say, I'll be setting aside some time to do some non-blog writing every day in lieu of actual work, and seeing how that develops. And from there, who knows?

On the job front, there are several irons in the fire at the moment, so hopefully something will come of (at least) one of them. Now I have a bunch of experience under my belt, hopefully I won't find myself spending a year out of work again. Because that sucked a big pile of donkey dick. An actual pile of it. And I have no desire to return to that situation. So I won't.

Hopefully, anyway.

Enough rambling from me. Have a pleasant weekend, all.