1007: Battle of the Cards

I’ve made my distaste for the growing trend for Japanese “card-battling” mobile-social games well-known on these pages a number of times in the past, but I’ve been growing increasingly conscious of the fact that I must be missing something. After all, these titles consistently show up in the Top Grossing charts on both Android and iOS, so there must be something to them that keeps people playing and, indeed, spending.

The other day, I reviewed a new mobile game from Zynga called Ayakashi: Ghost Guild. Before I go any further, let me explain something about the way Zynga does business for those who have always given their titles a wide berth for whatever reason.

Zynga behave very much like Apple do, in that they’re not trendsetters — or perhaps more accurately, they’re rarely the first to try something, as they’re both often the ones to make something popular. What both companies are inclined to do is hang back, watch and wait to see what early adopters of new technology and systems are doing. What is proving popular? What are users ignoring? What are the potential pitfalls in doing something new, and can they be avoided?

Once they’ve done this, they’ll swoop in with something fundamentally very similar to that which has come before, but polished to a fine sheen. Zynga’s games are rarely, if ever, original, but it’s hard to deny that they often have a significantly higher degree of polish than many other games that may have gotten there first. Similarly, Apple’s work on iOS frequently lags behind Android in terms of features — a frequent criticism in the interminably tedious fanboy wars — but when said features hit, they tend to be implemented very well. (Of course, there are exceptions in both cases, but these patterns are noticeable enough to be worth commenting on.)

Anyway, I digress; Ayakashi: Ghost Guild is a card-battling title from Zynga, and it follows the outline above to the letter. It’s clear that the specific developers behind it have examined what makes early trailblazers tick — many of which, like the inexplicably popular Rage of Bahamut, are very rough around the edges — and then given the whole set of proceedings a pleasing coat of paint. Where Rage of Bahamut is silent throughout, Ayakashi: Ghost Guild has an atmospheric, context-sensitive soundtrack; where Rage of Bahamut’s story is completely throwaway and irrelevant, delivered via blocks of text that most players will ignore completely, Ayakashi: Ghost Guild makes an effort to introduce characters and an unfolding narrative with first-person visual novel-style scenes; where Rage of Bahamut’s interface resembles a Geocities website from the late ’90s… Ayakashi: Ghost Guild’s interface resembles a Geocities website from the late ’90s designed by someone who owns a copy of Photoshop. (You can’t have everything.)

The thing that I’ve found most obnoxious about these games in the past is their seeming total lack of gameplay. But have I been giving them a fair shot? I have delved into Ayakashi in some detail over the past few days in an attempt to try and understand the appeal a little better, and I’m still not quite sure that I’ve made my mind up.

For those who haven’t played one of these games before, allow me to give you a rundown of how play works, with specific regard to Ayakashi. You start by picking a card, usually from one of three different types that have particular strengths and weaknesses. Cards have an attack rating, a defense rating and a “spirit” value. They also generally have some lovely (and usually rather boob-heavy) Japanese-style artwork on them. Ayakashi: Ghost Guild does not disappoint in any of these regards.

Following this, there are two main components to gameplay — the single-player component, referred to in Ayakashi as the “Story” mode; and the multiplayer component, described simply as “Battle” mode.

In Story mode, you’re presented with a series of linear chapters to work through. To work through a chapter in Ayakashi (and, indeed, in all other games of this type) you simply press a button. At this point, several things happen: an animation plays, you lose some health, you gain some experience and you gain some progress in the chapter. Occasionally you will discover an item or a card — each chapter usually has a set number of hidden items which are clearly marked and discovered completely by chance — or run into another player, at which point you can add them to your “crew” if you have enough slots left. If you fill up the chapter’s progress bar, you’re given a story scene and can then move on — or stay behind if you want to try and collect the remaining items — and if you fill up the experience bar, you gain a level, gain some points to spend on your basic stats and refill your health to full. Your first few levels give you more health than is needed to level up a single time; after you reach about level 8 or 9, however, you’ll either have to wait for health to regenerate (at the rate of 1 point per minute) or purchase restorative items using “Gold”, a currency which may only be acquired through in-app purchases. Generally speaking, health is exchanged for experience at a 1:1 ratio; as the story progresses, the health cost and related experience gain for a single press of the “Investigate” button increases.

When levelling up, you have three stats to power up: health, which upgrades the amount in your health pool, allowing you to play Story mode for longer; Attack Spirit, which determines the cards you can hold in your “attack deck” for Battle mode; and Defense Spirit, which determines the cards you can hold in your “defense deck” to protect yourself against attacks from other players when you’re not there.

Battle mode consists of you picking an opponent and then letting your attack deck compete against your opponent’s defense deck. Some cards have special abilities which boost their base attack and/or defense power, and these are triggered at the start of battle. Following this, the winner is automatically determined with no interaction required from the players. This allows battles to unfold without both players having to be present. After a battle, your available Attack Spirit is depleted by the spirit value of the cards you used, meaning at least initially you can only do one battle at most in a single session if you use your most powerful cards — and why wouldn’t you?

There’s a reason to play Battle mode in Ayakashi — the collection of Sealstones. If you collect all of the colours of a particular Sealstone set, you’ll get a rare card that is usually significantly more powerful than the ones you just find naturally in Story mode. Beat another player in Battle mode and you get to steal one of the Sealstones they have — but naturally, others will be trying to do the same thing to you, meaning you’ll have to leave a strong defense deck behind in order to ensure they don’t get nicked while you’re not playing. You can also, you guessed it, buy special items with that in-app purchase currency Gold to protect your Sealstones against being half-inched by randoms.

Despite being a massively-multiplayer game, direct interaction between players in Ayakashi is, like most other games of its type, very limited. You can add a limited number of other players to your “crew”, with the limit increasing as you level up. When you add a new crew member, you get more ability points — more than when you level up, in fact. You then have the option of “poking” or commenting at them once per day, and are rewarded with “Summon Points” for doing so. Collect ten Summon Points and you can get a free, usually shit, card. You can also get two additional free, usually shit, cards per day — one at any time, the other only at lunchtime.

Those free, usually shit, cards have a use, though — fusion. By picking a card to enhance and then choosing up to ten “material” cards to fuse with it, you can level it up, which increases both its attack and defense power and often makes any special abilities it has more effective, too. Some free, usually shit, cards are specifically designed purely for fusion purposes as they are otherwise terrible but provide massive experience point boosts; in other cases, ensuring you fuse cards of the same “type” (ideally identical ones) together nets you the biggest bonuses. Fusion costs in-game money to perform, though it’s the type of money you can earn in the game very easily without having to spend real cash — the game bombards you with it throughout Story mode and you can sell those free, usually shit, cards you’ve been building up over time.

That’s about it. You grind through Story mode, stopping when you run out of health (or until you purchase more if you just can’t wait); you twat another player or two in the face to nick something, then you set the game down for a few hours and come back later. Then you repeat the process.

Is that fun? I’m honestly not sure. There is a certain degree of satisfaction to gradually levelling things up and making them more powerful — progress bars are, as we all know, a powerful motivational tool. The fact that Ayakashi has actually made an effort with its story makes it considerably more interesting than most games in this oversaturated genre, too. But the lack of interaction bugs me somewhat; if I’m supposed to be “investigating” a location, I’d like to be actually doing that investigating, not just tapping an “Investigate” button over and over again. If I’m fighting an opponent, I’d like to do more than simply sit back and let the battle resolve itself.

On the other hand, there’s an argument that all Ayakashi and its numerous competitors are providing is the same experience you’d get from a “proper” MMO, albeit stripped down to its most bare essentials. What do people like to do in MMOs? Level up, so make that easy. What else do people like to do in MMOs? Compete against other players, so make that easy too. What these games are in effect doing is stripping down the conventions of MMOs into something that is a lot more friendly to mobile gamers’ lifestyles — you can pick up Ayakashi for five minutes and “accomplish” something, whereas to do the same in, say, World of Warcraft or Guild Wars 2 takes a lot longer. But in that longer amount of time, you actually get to do stuff.

As I say, after having spent a bit of time with Ayakashi in particular, I find myself a little conflicted. With Rage of Bahamut, I felt justified in my dislike; it’s a poorly put-together, amateurish effort that actually felt quite insulting to play. With Ayakashi, meanwhile, Zynga has taken the time to do its usual spit-and-polish routine to make something that isn’t outright embarrassing to play from a presentation perspective. I’m just not entirely sure there’s a game worth playing — much less paying for — beneath the glitz.

I will feel even more conflicted when the Persona 4 card-battling game eventually makes it to Western app stores.

1006: Far, Far Away

It may be shocking to some to hear this given how much of a massive nerd I am in almost every other respect, but I’ll just come out and say it: I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve never really cared for Star Wars.

I’m sorry. I just don’t. I’ve seen all of them several times — including the original trilogy in their original, un-messed-around-with incarnations — and I just struggle to get excited about it. I never wanted to be Luke Skywalker, I don’t give a shit whether Han shot first or not and I always preferred Wing Commander over X-Wing.

Of course, these days it’s not uncommon to not give a shit about Star Wars due to the massive oversaturation of the market perpetuated by the Lucas empire, but I’m pretty sure I’ve felt this way even since before the prequels came out. I’m not sure what it is — whether it’s just the fact that it’s so pervasive in geek culture that I’m just sick of it, or if I actively dislike it. For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s the latter; I think it’s more a sense of indifference and not really feeling like it’s worth all the fuss.

Oh, I get why it was a big deal on its original release, of course. I can appreciate that the original trilogy are good films — they’re well-structured, reasonably well-paced (they are quite long, though) and stuffed with memorable characters — and I can see what an impact it’s had on modern sci-fi. I just can’t get excited about the prospect of anything Star Wars-related these days.

It doesn’t help, of course, that aspects of the franchise get continually co-opted for completely inappropriate purposes. I knew that I was completely over Star Wars when Yoda started advertising for Vodafone, though I had my suspicions when he appeared in one of the Soul Calibur games. The moment that the marketing people get hold of something that enjoys mainstream (or even niche) popularity, it dies a death. Whatever soul it once had is gone, replaced by that cold-hearted capitalist desire to make cash.

In fact, my only really fond memories of Star Wars include the amateur video production called Yoda’s Bar my school friends made with a bunch of Star Wars figures, and the drunken evening I spent after one of our school leaving days sleeping on the floor next to my friend Woody, who was doing what he called “Emperor Farts”, which consisted of him doing an impression of Emperor Palpatine and then letting rip with some of the most thunderous flatulence I’d ever heard. (He managed to keep this up for well over an hour; I am still surprised to this day that he didn’t shit himself.)

I digress.

I think it’s largely the oversaturation issue that gets to me in situations like this, because it’s not just Star Wars that I feel this way about. I find myself instinctively starting to dislike anything which I’m constantly bombarded with. It’s an automatic response now — I start to see so much of something that I just feel utterly sick of the sight of it, and thus want to take myself as far away as possible from it. Recent things I have felt this way about include Call Me Maybe, Gangnam Style, anything to do with Batman, and the video game Dishonored. The more I see of a thing, the less I want to see of it. Marketing through constant “brand visibility” evidently doesn’t work on me.

This instinctive behaviour that I have picked up from somewhere probably accounts for my changing tastes in media consumption — my present fascination with anime, Japanese games and related media falls firmly into the “niche interests” category and consequently is not prone to the “JUST SHUT UP ABOUT IT FOR FIVE MINUTES!” problem that I’m describing here. Ironically, of course, I’m happy to talk about all of the above things with like-minded people for hours on end and never get sick of them.

I don’t particularly think that feeling this way is a problem per se — everyone should be free to pursue their own tastes and interests — but as I posted the other day, it can sometimes lead to feelings of isolation. I occasionally think I should make more of an effort to try and engage with things that are otherwise popular, but then I just think to myself “no, why should I? I have plenty of things that I’m interested in to keep me busy and entertained; I don’t need the stuff that everyone else is talking about.”

I just end up with fewer people to talk about my interests with. But eh. ‘Twas ever thus for those mysterious creatures known as geeks, nerds, whatever you want to call us. And the fortunate side-effect of the smaller numbers of people who are into more “niche” things is that the people who are into those things are, more often than not, infinitely more passionate about their interests than those who are following the herd. I’ll take passion and enthusiasm over conformity any day.

1005: Easygoing Lilies

Well, as I suspected might happen when I wrote my first post on the subject of Yuru Yuri, I appear to have become mildly addicted to the thoroughly silly adventures of the Amusement Club.

For those who missed aforementioned post and are too lazy to click on the link and see what I’m talking about, Yuru Yuri is a show about lesbian schoolgirls. No, not like that. That is basically what it is, though. (A show about lesbian schoolgirls, not porn.) It’s a show that features an all-girl cast where homosexual feelings towards one another are the norm rather than the exception — rather refreshingly, the show regards same-sex feelings of attraction and love as just something that happens rather than something that is in any way “shocking” or out of the ordinary. It’s not a show that’s trying to push a particular agenda on its viewers, in short — certain members of the cast feel certain ways towards one another, and they just happen to be girls. Which is cool with me.

After a little while, this simply becomes something you accept in the world of Yuru Yuri, and you are then able to focus on the real highlight of the show — the characters. This is not a show where anything earth-shatteringly important happens, you see; no-one is struggling with Big Issues, no-one is feeling a sense of guilt over their sexuality, no-one suffers anything other than the most temporary setbacks (and then usually only for laughs) and no-one gets hurt in anything more than the most ridiculous slapstick fashion — we’re in the territory of comedy “bumps” popping out of people’s heads here, which is something I don’t think I’ve seen since I was a kid.

But no; there are no Big Issues to come to terms with, which lets the characters shine simply by being themselves. It’s an excellent and diverse cast made up of an interesting mix of established tropes and characters who subvert said tropes nicely.

Chinatsu, Akari, Yui and Kyoko, the four girls who make up the school’s “Amusement Club” pictured above, are the main stars, with Akari ostensibly being the “protagonist”. Akari’s main distinguishing feature is that there is absolutely nothing remarkable about her whatsoever, however, which tends to lead her being the butt of many episodes’ jokes as she gets left behind entirely or, in some cases, ends up turning completely invisible due to her lack of presence. She is endearing and entertaining in her own right, however, and despite the show’s joking insistence that she is not worth focusing on, she’s sweet and cute. She also has the most terrifyingly creepy siscon older sister I’ve ever seen, too — in one particularly hilarious and memorable (if weird as fuck) scene, said sister settles in for a comfortable evening home alone, clutching her Akari body pillow which she’s dressed in one of Akari’s uniforms, and wearing a pair of Akari’s knickers on her head. It’s a gloriously uncomfortable scene, particularly when Akari comes home early and her sister only just manages to hide the evidence of her misdeeds.

Yui, meanwhile, is “the sensible one”, and a bit of a tomboy. She’s the sort of character who rarely smiles and is quite softly-spoken. In many ways, she’s the mother figure of the group, as she lives by herself and puts up with the others — particularly Kyoko — invading her home and demanding food. Yui sometimes seems to be a bit of a “blank slate”, but occasionally we get a glimpse of her humanity through her getting into a video game or playing with her younger relative Mari. Yui is also particularly skilled in dealing with Kyoko, regularly shutting down her often-incoherent hyperactive rants with just a single word.

Chinatsu is the exact opposite of Yui. A lively, energetic young girl with bright pink frizzy hair in bunches, Chinatsu is carrying a rather large torch for Yui and will do anything to try and get closer to her. While she is initially presented as a sweet, innocent, shy girl, it becomes very apparent very quickly that Chinatsu can be aggressive, grumpy, mean and a bit of a bully at times — though she’s not particularly good at any of those things, often leaving her looking rather ridiculous. She’s also terrible at drawing, creating pictures that look like something out of a particularly unpleasant horror movie.

Kyoko is the clear highlight of the show, however. Kyoko does not give a shit what anyone thinks and just does what she feels like. She clearly has some sort of attention-deficit disorder, and is usually hyperactive. Despite this, however, she is fiercely loyal to her friends and clearly values her time with the group. She’s also caring and considerate, and is also the most obviously “gifted” of the group — not only is she a talented (and respected) doujinshi manga artist, but she’s also able to score full marks on almost every test she takes with minimum effort, much to the chagrin of her rival Ayano. She’s also mildly obsessed with Chinatsu’s unbearable cuteness, and takes every opportunity to find an excuse to make her cosplay as “Witch Girl Mirakurun”, to whom Chinatsu bears an uncanny resemblance even when out of costume.

Although these four make up the main cast, the secondary characters are all interesting and entertaining too, particularly in the second season, where they each get much more of a chance to shine. We have the aforementioned tsundere student council vice-president Ayano, who likes Kyoko but would never admit it; her best friend Chitose, who has a habit of getting nosebleeds as a result of perverted thoughts about Ayano and Kyoko getting together every time she takes her glasses off — and also goes on a kissing rampage any time she ingests chocolate; and the ever-entertaining duo of rivals Sakurako and Himawari who are absolute polar opposites in almost every way but clearly care deeply for one another. Sakurako is extremely childish, aggressive, demanding, hot-headed and flat-chested; Himawari is mature, motherly, firm but fair and in possession of a fine pair of breasts which Sakurako is quite understandably very jealous of.

The way these girls interact with one another and play together is the reason to watch Yuru Yuri. You can get to the end of an episode and realise that absolutely nothing happened beyond “some girls hung out together” — but that despite this, you still had an entertaining experience. It’s one of those experiences where you feel like you’re “friends” with the characters and that you’re getting the opportunity to just chill out and hang around with them. It’s not a show that’s going to slap you around the face with The Feels on a regular basis, nor does it ever claim it’s going to be, but for something that’s just plain fun to watch, I think it’s going to be hard to beat.

1004: Thwarting The Fall

I finished Persona 3 FES: The Journey this evening, something I’ve been meaning to do for a very long time and finally got around to. Persona 3 remains one of my favourite games of all time, and the additions to The Journey — the story told in the original version of Persona 3 — are very welcome, offering deeper insight into the characters as well as some good old-fashioned fanservice.

Persona 3’s biggest strength is also one of the reasons why I imagine an awful lot of people won’t finish it: its length. Having played The Last Story earlier this year, I’m very much of the opinion that JRPGs don’t have to be incredibly long to be tell satisfying stories, but in the case of Persona 3 and its sequel, both of which are somewhere in the region of 85-100 hours in length, I can’t help but think that a lot of the respective stories’ impact would be lost if they decided to reign things in a bit and keep them snappy.

Persona 3, for those who haven’t played it, takes place over the course of a school year in Japan. You start in April, increasing amounts of Bad Shit comes to pass as the year progresses and you eventually finish either on New Year’s Eve with a bad ending or on January 31st with a good ending. And you’re expected to play through all the days in between, with only a couple of exceptions.

A day in Persona 3 typically consists of getting up, going to school (assuming it’s a school day), perhaps answering a question or two in class, hanging out with friends after school then either going dungeon-crawling, studying or socialising in the evening. The format occasionally gets shaken up with public holidays (and Sundays) when you don’t have school to worry about, and there’s a couple of trips out of the game’s main Japanese town setting at specific points in the story, but for the most part you are living the life of a Japanese teenager, albeit one who fights monsters after midnight.

It’s a long, slow slog through the game’s days, in short, but it’s only through dealing with this that you truly come to respect the sacrifices the game’s main cast has made in the name of trying to build a better world and beat back the darkness. Sometimes you really want to hang out with that hot girl who seems to have taken an interest in you, but instead you know that you should go shopping with the nice policeman who sells you various sharp implements, then go climbing the mysterious tower that appears after midnight and start twatting some Shadows in the face. Having to find this optimum “work-life balance” means that the time you do actually get to spend with your in-game friends becomes more precious — particularly as each of the “Social Link” stories that is attached to each person ends up being interesting and often emotional.

By the time you reach the game’s final battle, you have been through Hell and back with these characters, both in terms of having to cope with the everyday stresses of teenage life — exams, angst, friendship drama — and in having fought your way through hordes of Shadows to strengthen your party. By the time the final boss appears, you are ready to kick some ass and save the world.

And then the final boss fight takes somewhere in the region of an hour to complete. The game isn’t going to let you win so easily. It’s not an especially difficult fight if you’ve prepared appropriately, but it is long — a test of endurance… and of whether or not you remembered to stock up on items before wandering into the dungeon. It’s not boring, though — it’s paced in such a way that it shakes things up regularly, requiring you to change and adapt your strategies accordingly, particularly as you get closer and closer to final victory. By the time you finally take down the boss and get onto the “home straight”, as it were — and there’s actually a surprising amount still to see even after you’ve kicked its ass — you are physically and mentally exhausted, just like the characters, and the game knows this, hitting you with some intensely emotional scenes while you’re weakened.

Persona 3, then, uses its length to its advantage. While there is plenty of stuff in there that is clearly designed to allow masochistic players to inflate their play time yet further (I didn’t beat the Reaper, for example, and I seriously doubt I will ever see, let alone beat the “Ultimate Opponent” secret boss that only appears in New Game+) for the most part, it’s good stuff that allows you to immerse yourself in the small but very well-realised game world. You’re either doing teenagery things, or you’re fighting Shadows. Fight too many Shadows and you’ll exhaust yourself, meaning you’ll need to make sure you get some rest before you do anything strenuous — but while you recover, all your friends are waiting for you.

There’s always something to do and someone to see, and meanwhile the clock is ticking ever-onwards towards an inevitable conclusion. As time passes, everyone’s life goes on — even the incidental NPCs sitting around in various locations all have their own stories to tell that progress gradually as the seasons turn. Will the shy girl ever talk to the boy she’s stalking? Will the girl who’s obsessed with Mitsuru ever confess her feelings? Will the elementary school student at the station ever stop being a jerk to her obviously-nervous new teacher?

“Bonds of people are the true power,” runs the tagline to the Persona 4 anime, and it’s right. Both Persona 3 and 4 are what they are because of the people in their respective game worlds. After 80+ hours with them, it’s difficult to not feel a sense of attachment to them — even the most seemingly-innocuous incidental character. This sense of “belonging”, of immersion in a game world with realistic, believable characters — that, right there is why I love these games so much.

On to The Answer next, which I know nothing about beyond the fact it’s supposedly very difficult and wraps up the ambiguities left by The Journey’s ending. I’m very intrigued to see how it concludes for real, so doubtless you can expect another post on the subject after another 20 hours of gameplay or so.

1003: Isolation Chamber

Last night I spent a thoroughly pleasant evening in the company of the few “real-life” friends I see on a regular basis. We played Descent, I made some poor tactical decisions and lost yet another quest (seriously, I am the most incompetent evil overlord of all time) and we had fun.

As always, though the experience was, for me, tinged with a certain hint of bittersweetness. Said friends, you see, all live back in the Southampton/Winchester area, which is where I used to live before the rather inconvenient and upsetting collapse of almost my entire existence over two years ago. I, however, am not located there; instead, I am nearly two hours’ drive away in Chippenham, Wiltshire. It’s not a difficult drive, to be sure, but it isn’t something I can particularly do on a sudden whim. Well, I can, but I do need to have plenty of time on my hands before I do it, and there are other considerations as well.

It’s frustrating, though. Regular readers will know that I am not an especially “social” person a lot of the time, but I do appreciate and enjoy the time I get to spend with these friends. We’ve built a strong Social Link as a group together in recent years, and most of us have had to take on some difficult challenges in that time. Although in a lot of cases, said group of friends didn’t necessarily help and support directly, the fact that they were simply there was often enough. I know I certainly felt that way, though naturally I can’t speak for the others.

It’s hard to feel that way when you’re two hours away, though; when you have to make full on capital-P Plans to see them rather than just sending a text and asking if people are up for something. I miss being able to do that, and not just with the particular group of friends I saw last night, either; there are ex-colleagues still in the area whom I used to love being able to just call up (well, text up) and hang out with.

I feel more than a tad isolated, in short.

And in more ways than one, if I’m honest. Leaving aside the geographical issue that gets in the way of seeing “real life” friends for a moment, there’s also the whole issue of having like-minded friends who are into similar things that you are. I have a number of interests that I am perfectly willing to describe as “niche”, and at times it can be difficult and frustrating to be a fan of these things when there’s no-one nearby to share the experience and enjoyment of them with. It’s not as if I have absolutely no-one, obviously — Andie is good at taking an interest in the things I like (for the most part, anyway!) and aforementioned friends share at least some of my interests.

The “simple” solution seems obvious — take an interest in more “mainstream” things so you can more easily share the enjoyment of things that everyone enjoys. But it’s not that simple. I have tried on a number of occasions to engage with things I know various friends and acquaintances are interested in — everything from football to The X-Factor — and every time I have come away feeling like I’m forcing myself to try and enjoy something I dislike immensely, and it just doesn’t seem worth it. Apparently your tastes are hard-wired into your head somewhere, and it is very difficult to change them. I am predisposed to like the things I like (board games, video games, anime, soundtracks, music, writing, The Internet, My Little Pony) and similarly to dislike the things I despise (too many to list).

Knowing that doesn’t help with those feelings of isolation, though. Knowing that the things I enjoy are only appreciated by certain specific subcultures can be a difficult pill to swallow at times, but it’s the situation that my own tastes have gotten me into. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret or feel embarrassed about anything that I enjoy; it’d just be nice to be able to enthuse about it with people who are a bit closer sometimes.

But at least I can enthuse about it with people thanks to the trappings of modern society. I can chat with my friend in Canada about anime; I can discuss strategies for failing to beat the hideously difficult secret boss in Persona 3 with another friend in the States. I can rant and rave in private about the things that are getting my goat to someone in yet another disparate geographical location; I can share my pride in something I have achieved with yet someone else entirely.

Things could be worse, in short — but it doesn’t stop those occasional feelings of loneliness and isolation. I’ve been having more than a few of them recently, and it’s getting me down a bit, so apologies if the tone of these posts may be a bit on the melancholy side at times.

Oh well. I’ll deal. I always do.

1002: Irritants of the Modern World

I have a peculiar sense of déjà vu as I write this as I have a strange feeling I’ve written a very similar post before… but d’you ever feel like the world just isn’t quite built with you in mind?

I’m not talking about difficulty getting around — though obviously there are people out there with physical difficulties for whom the world literally isn’t really built for — but rather a sense of detachment, a feeling of not quite “belonging” to modern society, a sense that others are “getting” something you’re not. (No filthy comments!)

I’ve been having this feeling to an increasing degree over the past few years. When I consider the things about modern society that irritate me, I sometimes find myself wondering if I’m just being unreasonable or if there is, in fact, some sort of root cause for the feelings of dissatisfaction and frustration I so often feel.

Let’s take a few examples to demonstrate what I mean.

Firstly, one from my professional life. I review social and mobile games for a living, from the perspective of whether or not they’re likely to be profitable and if developers can learn/steal something from each other. Objectively speaking, I can recognise the patterns in design, structure and the use of compulsion mechanics to draw players in and encourage them to spend money, but I can never picture spending my own money on such titles. It might be because I’m a traditional (or “core” as we tend to be called nowadays) gamer and thus have certain expectations from my entertainment — expectations that more often than not aren’t met by puddle-deep mobile and social games — or it might be something else. Rage of Bahamut, for example, which is complete crap in almost every way it is possible for a game to be crap, is immensely successful and has been showing up high in the Top Grossing charts ever since its launch. I do not understand this.

Then there’s the perpetual popularity of terrible, terrible television shows and the attached assumptions that you should know who Rylan(?) from The X-Factor is in order to have a successful water-cooler conversation. Thing is, every time X-Factor comes on, all I see on Twitter from the fairly broad spectrum of people I follow is unbridled hate — but they’re still watching it. I do not understand this either.

Then there are smaller, stupid questions. Why do people buy clothes with dates they probably weren’t born in printed prominently on them? What possible use could a 19-inch 1080p television be? What sort of pillock falls for those text messages that tell you how much money you could claim from your “recent” (and non-existent) accident? Who wakes up one morning and decides they want to be a loss adjuster? Why would I want to join yet another mobile social network that does nothing more than allow me to “Like” random things? Why do so many people respond to those utterly inane brand posts on Facebook? More to the point, why does the block of cheese we have in the fridge have its own Facebook page?

I do not understand any of these things either.

It’s not difficult to see why certain subcultures, be they socioeconomic or interest-based, find themselves feeling somewhat alienated from “normal” society, whatever that is. I certainly do at times, and I’m pretty sure that I’m not the only one out there. There are too many unanswered questions out there, and either I’m not looking in the right place for the answers or the rest of society just doesn’t care.

Oh well. Time to sleep. The world will continue not making sense in the morning. This has been your after-midnight philosophical bollocks for the evening; hopefully I should be feeling a little more coherent come the morning.

Good night.

1001: Yuriyurarararayuruyuri

Hello! And welcome to the first post-1,000 post on this blog. I hope you like the “New Game+” redesign I’ve done. I figured it was worth doing something noticeable to highlight my achievement. And now I’ll stop blowing my own trumpet. Back to business as usual.

I’ve been continuing my journey through the strange and bizarre world of anime recently. I finished watching The World God Only Knows a while back, so I was looking for something new to explore. I have a few DVDs of recommendations from my friend Lynette on the way, but I was interested in trying something a little bit different while I waited for them to arrive.

So it was that while browsing Crunchyroll I came across Yuru Yuri, an anime that I’d seen mentioned by a few people around the place. I didn’t really know anything about it save for the fact that “yuri” is a term often used to refer to “girls love” or, to be less euphemistic about it, material with lesbian themes. I had no idea whether Yuru Yuri’s title actually had anything to do with yuri as a genre, or whether it was just part of the name. “Yuri”, after all, is also a fairly common Japanese name that means “lily”.

As it turns out, Yuru Yuri (literally “easygoing yuri”) is most certainly a yuri work, though more in a sense that it focuses on close personal relationships between a group of girls rather than having sexual overtones at its core.

Yuru Yuri centers around a group of middle-school girls who start an “amusement club” in the defunct Tea Club’s premises at their school. They essentially use this as an excuse to goof off and avoid doing anything that would actually require effort, and over the course of the series, their relationships with one another (and with a small cast of supporting characters outside the main four) grow and change — in some cases into love; in others into fantasies about one another that will (probably) never be fulfilled; in others still into close friendship. The show doesn’t make a big deal of the fact that seemingly almost everyone at the all-girls school they attend is homosexual; instead, it’s simply treated as the way things are. People can like each other, regardless of gender, and this can lead to exactly the same sort of awkwardness and confused feelings as in heterosexual relationships. Just like real life! Who’d have thought it.

All this perhaps makes Yuru Yuri sound a bit more serious than it actually is. The girls’ relationships and feelings for one another are an important part of the show, sure, but for the most part it’s very much a “slice of life” anime in which the cast get into various amusing scrapes that are usually resolved by the end of the episode. It’s very lightweight and cheerful in tone throughout, and the characters are all very distinctive and exaggerated in terms of their appearances, personalities and iconic behaviours — though the show isn’t above subverting its own tropes at times if the opportunity to play something for laughs exists.

One amusing aspect of the show is that Akari, the character set up to be the series’ “protagonist” in the first episode, gets some fairly harsh treatment throughout. Not necessarily in terms of the things that actually happen to her, mind — this isn’t a show that does nasty things to its characters — but in the fact that more often than not an episode ends up focusing on the other characters to her exclusion. On more than one occasion she gets sidelined in favour of seemingly incidental plotlines, and in some episodes she’s not even present at all. This particular aspect of the show is lampshaded continually, with the “next episode” previews often consisting of the characters arguing over who is actually the protagonist, regular references to Akari’s lack of presence (often represented by her literally turning invisible) and the pre-credits “Yuru Yuri is starting!” sequence (hosted by Akari) getting increasingly ridiculous as the series progresses. It’s a fun commentary on the “blank slate” nature of a lot of anime protagonists.

There are also plenty of silly things that happen in almost every episode, too. For example, Chitose, one of the supporting cast members, is obsessed with her best friend Ayano the student council vice-president getting together with Kyouko, one of the main four cast members. Every time Chitose takes her glasses off, she “tunes out” of reality because she can’t see and ends up fantasising about what Ayano and Kyouko would get up to if they ever admitted their feelings to one another. These fantasies are usually rather suggestive, but always stop before anything actually happens, usually because Chitose has a near-fatal nosebleed as a result of her pervy thoughts.

It’s a strange show, to be sure, and an acquired taste. It’s one of those things where nothing of any particular note happens in any episode, but the comfortable familiarity of the characters and the gentle sense of slightly suggestive humour that pervades it gives it a very endearing feel, assuming you can stomach its unrelenting moe cuteness. The whole cast — main and supporting — is likable and distinctive, and it’s just a very pleasant watch if you don’t want to have to concentrate too hard or be bombarded with The Feels at every opportunity.

You can watch Yuru Yuri on Crunchyroll.

This is my 1,000th daily post on this blog

Well, there we are. 1,000 days of non-stop daily blogging. I am the best, I win, etc. Sorry this post is so late, but once you’ve read it you’ll hopefully appreciate that it took a bit of time to put together. I felt I should make the effort, you know. Special occasion and all that.

Of course, I’m well aware that I’m not the first person to reach a thousand days — as I mentioned a few days back, Mr Ian Dransfield got there first due to… well, starting before me. I joined the initial #oneaday crowd a little late, on January 19, 2010, whereas the people who actually started the whole thing off began closer to New Year’s Day. As I noted in that post I just linked to, however, I am officially the Last Man Standing and I don’t mind admitting that I feel more than a little proud of that fact. Through thick and thin, I’ve stuck by this self-imposed project with no end and no goal, and I have enjoyed the experience immensely.

And, more importantly, I plan to continue enjoying it from this point onwards. Post number 1,000 — that’s this one — is most certainly not a fond farewell and a hanging up of the… whatever implement best exemplifies blogging. (My computer keyboard, I guess.) No; it’s a significant milestone, for sure, but I see no reason to stop. There are plenty of things to write about. And while they may not always be the most interesting or universally appealing, as I’ve noted on this blog a number of times before, the original intention of #oneaday was not to be interesting or universally appealing. It was simply a kick up the bum to get those of us who enjoyed writing to do more writing. Writing for ourselves, rather than for someone else. Writing without limits, without the necessity of sticking to a style (though those of us in it for the long haul naturally developed our own personal styles), without word counts, without anyone deciding whether or not the thing we were writing about was worth writing about. And, of course writing without editing.

Yes, these are the pure, unexpurgated contents of my brain you’re reading every day. Unfiltered, uncensored, completely truthful. (Well, okay, regarding the latter, I might omit to mention a few things, but that’s not exactly the same as lying.) A couple of people have commented to me over the course of the past thousand days that they’re impressed by my ability to just lay my soul bare on the page like that, to confess to things that others might find difficult to talk about. For me, though, it’s actually something of a relief to be able to talk about a lot of these things, be it my depression and social anxiety or my enjoyment of visual novels that, in many cases, have bonking in them. This blog has been a good “friend”, as it were, providing me with a place to empty my brain of all the thoughts that have been floating around with it over the course of each day, and in the process I have made a few actual friends who have either related to the things I’ve written or just found them interesting. Which is, you know, nice.

More after the jump — it’s a long one. (That’s what she said, etc.)

Continue reading “This is my 1,000th daily post on this blog” →

#oneaday Day 999: Appeal Elements

I think I might have nailed down one of the big reasons that Japanese games and anime appeal to me quite so much. It’s actually a relatively obvious conclusion, now that I think about it, but watching several different types of anime and playing several different types of Japanese game recently has pretty much confirmed what I suspected.

The thing I find most appealing about these forms of media is that they consciously and obviously divorce themselves from reality while retaining just enough that is relatable to make it still feel “relevant” to the viewer. I’m not just talking about the obviously outlandish storylines of titles like JRPGs and My Girlfriend is the President here, I’m talking about the heavily stylised way in which characters are represented, emotions are depicted visually and how character traits are often exaggerated to make individual cast members obviously distinctive from one another.

As I gradually get deeper in to the world of anime in particular, a lot of conventions are starting to make themselves apparent. One of the most obvious breaks from reality is the use of “emoticons” to depict how characters are feeling. (There may be a proper name for them, but I’m not sure what it is, if so.) Things like the throbbing red “vein” when someone’s angry; the physically-impossible shadow being cast over someone’s face when they’re disappointed or scared; characters who literally catch fire or become engulfed in dark mists when they’re feeling particularly strongly about something; the fact that anyone having pervy thoughts immediately gets a nosebleed. They’re crazy and completely physically implausible, of course, but they create a handy visual shorthand for emotional reactions that might be otherwise difficult to depict in the relatively simplistic imagery of animation. For as much as anime characters (particularly of the moe variety) are designed to elicit emotional responses from the viewer, there’s only so much you can do when you’re not working with a real person who doesn’t have all those muscles in their face to work with.

Actually, that’s not true at all — when you’re dealing with a drawing of someone, you can do absolutely anything with them, even things that are physically impossible. What you can’t really do quite so easily, though, is show subtle nuances of emotion, which may account for the fact that an awful lot of anime features not only heavily-exaggerated characters, but also strongly-exaggerated emotional responses to situations too. Everything from the embarrassed “arm-flap” of a teenage girl having her crush revealed to a heroic protagonist running towards his rival engulfed in flames — these exaggerated, symbolic responses make it abundantly clear to the viewer what these characters are thinking and feeling.

At the same time, as I said at the start, they divorce the work from reality. They make a statement — this is not real — and encourage the viewer to suspend their disbelief. And that, for me, is one of the more appealing things about this type of media. I indulge in video games and watching anime as a means of escaping from the doldrums of everyday life which is, let’s face it, rather tedious and dull at the best of times. At the same time, though, I like to maintain a connection to something relatable — usually characters — and I’ve found that anime and Japanese games have often provided a good balance between those two considerations for my tastes.

Obviously I don’t expect everyone to agree with me — it’d be easy to see anime’s exaggerated reactions as overly-comic, silly or childish, for example, sometimes making light of serious situations — but it works for me. Perhaps I just like having emotional responses clearly telegraphed to me rather than being expected to read the often-inscrutable faces of real human beings.

As a vaguely-related contrast to this, we went to see the Lion King stage show last night in Bristol. I did not enjoy it that much, and while I was sitting there a bit bored I found myself wondering exactly why I could suspend my disbelief for an anime about schoolgirls who have perverted fantasies about their classmates (and subsequent nosebleeds) every time they take their glasses off, but not for a bunch of people dressed as savannah animals leaping and cavorting around on stage. I found this a particularly interesting question to ponder given that I normally have a lot of patience for musicals.

The conclusion I came to is somewhat difficult to describe, but it’s largely the fact that I found The Lion King difficult to relate to. I enjoyed the original Disney movie, but the stage show focused, for me, far too much on visual spectacle rather than making the characters relatable in any way. I didn’t give a toss about young Simba (who was not portrayed particularly well by the child actor, which didn’t help) and was painfully aware that these were just people wearing masks and weird costumes throughout. I couldn’t suspend my disbelief and think of them as their characters. It went too far off the edge of reality and deep into the realm of “this is pretentious arty wank” for me, not helped by the amount of frankly unnecessary prancing around from certain members of the cast.

I was somewhat in the minority, though, as the show got a standing ovation at the end. Oh well. This certainly isn’t the first time something with mainstream popularity has left me somewhat cold, as this blog will attest on a number of occasions!

#oneaday Day 998: Generally Generalising

First up, read this. It’s an impressive piece of investigative journalism regarding a Reddit user known as “ViolentAcrez” — a notorious user for his practices of posting creepy photos of often-underage women without their consent. The piece describes the reporter Adrian Chen’s (successful) attempts to unmask ViolentAcrez and publicly shame him for the things he has spent the last few years doing.

Fair enough. As a number of people have said in relation to this story today, the “free speech” so beloved of Reddit users does not mean the same thing as “free of consequences”. And while Michael Brutsch, the man behind the handle “ViolentAcrez”, has not technically broken any laws with his activities — he wasn’t posting child pornography or anything illegal, simply reposts of images that were already in the public domain on Facebook and other services, and later voyeuristic images taken without the knowledge of the people depicted — the fact stands that his behaviour was more than a little creepy, inappropriate and actively harmful in a society that is, for the most part, actively trying to improve attitudes towards women.

I’m not denying any of this. While I find the tracking down and public shaming of a notorious Internet troll a little creepy in and of itself, what Chen did in the name of journalism is a far cry from what Brutsch has been doing for the past few years — and probably for the best in the long run. Brutsch will certainly think twice — or at least be a lot more careful about his “social media footprint” — before trying anything like this again. There’s a lesson to be learned in all this — if you’re a dick on the Internet, sometimes it will come back and bite you in the ass.

There is something that bothers me about this story, however, and that’s been the reaction to it. Specifically, the negativity directed towards the entire Reddit community as a result of this story and surrounding issues. For those who haven’t been keeping up on this story over the past few days, a number of Reddit subforums, or “subreddits” as they’re called, completely blocked all Gawker links in a showing of solidarity for Brutsch who was, despite his behaviour, regarded as a valuable member of the community and a “necessary evil” by many — while he was a notorious troll, the Reddit staffers made active use of him to police the less salubrious parts of Reddit and ensure that nothing that actually was illegal was being posted. A “man on the inside”, as it were.

Because certain parts of Reddit decided to show their support for and/or actively defend Brutsch’s behaviour on the grounds of “free speech”, apparently all of Reddit is now something to be reviled — a “cesspit”, as I saw it referred to earlier today.

This is the bit that makes me uncomfortable — an entire community being blamed and ostracised for the behaviour of one man in particular, and also for that of those who support him.

I’ve been on Reddit. I haven’t been on there for a while but I enjoyed a brief stint on there a while back. I joined some interesting discussions on a variety of topics ranging from gaming to TV shows via funny pictures and an accidental excursion into naked photographs that users had taken of themselves. (In the latter case, the notorious “gonewild” subreddit, the majority of comments were in fact, body-positive — particularly on the pictures of those who had been brave enough to post a picture of their obviously-overweight body — rather than perverted, which I found to be interesting. Also, it genuinely was an accident that I found myself in that subreddit — Reddit’s main screen gives little to no indication what “gonewild” is all about. In retrospect, I should have thought about it a little more before jumping in, but hey, I’m pretty hard to shock. But I digress.)

I didn’t spend long enough to make any particular friends there, but I have heard plenty of stories of people getting to know each other and making lasting friendships or relationships through the site. There are plenty of stories of Reddit communities pulling together to support others, too — stories of helping people through difficult times; stories of helping people who are struggling for money; stories of, in short, human helping human. I know at least one person personally who is using a specific subreddit for support in getting help for some of their personal problems and issues. There is plenty that is positive to say about Reddit.

And yet for the obnoxious, totally inappropriate actions of one man and his supporters — some of whom, it seems, have been or are on Reddit’s staff — apparently this entire, incredibly diverse Internet community should be ostracised.

Something really doesn’t sit right with that for me. To generalise one of the largest communities on the Internet as all being scumbags like this just seems both dangerous and unfair. I have plenty of friends who enjoy using Reddit for completely innocent purposes, be it discussion, promotion of things they have been working on or discovering interesting new reaction .GIFs. I know that they’d be the first to distance themselves from the sort of behaviour that Brutsch has exhibited, and yet if you were to take what a number of commentators are saying at face value, you’d have to brand these people as deviant perverts and assholes, too, simply by virtue of the fact that they’re Reddit users.

This is not helpful.

I’m fully aware that I’ve been guilty of this sort of thing in the past — not specifically with regard to Reddit, but with 4chan. I’ve referred to that place as a “cesspit” before and certainly it has more than its fair share of trolls and unpleasant people there — but equally now I realise that there are also plenty of other people who just make it their hangout of choice. They, subsequently, become guilty by association with the “/b/tards” who are responsible for the majority of objectionable material and behaviour on 4chan (and, by extension, the rest of the Internet. And they’re probably pretty pissed about that.

The same thing is happening with Reddit. As much as Reddit would like to market itself as a “social news” tool, let’s not be under any illusions — it’s nothing more than the world’s biggest forum. Like most forums, it has tons of subcultures and cliques, most of whom stick to their own neatly-carved niches for the most part. Some of these subcultures and cliques are objectionable in nature, and it’s up to the site admins and moderators to determine what to do about that — something that they haven’t done a great job with so far, and something they need to work on.

However, the mere presence of some objectionable subcultures and cliques does not mean that the entire website as a whole is somehow objectionable. It’s the same as saying that a particular city is a “cesspit” because, say, a greater-than-average number of registered sex offenders live there. Or the same as saying that all people who like a particular thing are a bunch of assholes. Or, in fact, the same as almost any other unfair, unsubstantiated generalisation. It’s not helpful — all it does is turn everyone outside that group against them, and everyone inside that group becomes defensive. The two sides inevitably clash, and things just get worse and worse rather than better. It doesn’t help anyone.

So by all means think that Michael Brutsch is a creepy old pervert whom you wouldn’t want anywhere near your children. By all means criticise those who supported him — including members of Reddit’s staff.

I agree with you.

But take a moment to think of the thousands — more likely millions — of people who make use of Reddit on a regular basis and have absolutely nothing to do with this before you start branding the entire community as pond life. Would you want to be made guilty by association with something you had no involvement in whatsoever? I doubt it very much. So quit doing it to others.