1108: Countdown to Internet

We finally get Proper Internet installed in our new flat tomorrow. If you are, at this point, scratching your head and pondering how on Earth I am writing this post when I do not have Proper Internet installed in our new flat already, fortunate circumstances meant that our new neighbours have BT as their service provider and thus have part of their bandwidth set aside as a public hotspot. Because we’re also with BT, it means that we’re able to make use of this hotspot for free.

You may think that sounds ideal, and it’s certainly been better than nothing — without it I’d have spent about a billion pounds on working from coffee shops by now, or have struggled on with a data-capped 3G dongle — but it’s had its share of annoyances. The main issue is that our neighbours’ router is just slightly too far away for a reliable connection on devices like the iPhone and iPad — it’s been fine on my laptop, but my Mac steadfastly refuses to stay connected for more than five minutes at a time. Since my day job requires me to download a lot of stuff from the App Store, I need my phone to have a reliable connection, because apps over a certain size are impossible to download over a mobile data connection — and besides, my mobile data connection has a bandwidth cap, too, which I hit last billing month thanks to the very issues I’m describing here.

The other irritant is the hotspot’s “fair use policy”, which means that “unlimited” use is, in fact, not unlimited at all — instead, once you hit a certain number of minutes used on your account (cumulative between all devices which have logged in using those details) you get put in a special Naughty Corner for people who use the Internet too much, and disconnected without warning every half an hour. This is especially infuriating if you’ve been typing an article into a web-based content management system such as WordPress, idly hit Publish without remembering to check if the connection is still active and promptly run the risk of losing all your work. (Fortunately, Chrome seems to cache the body of your text when this happens, but tends to lose headlines, tags and that sort of thing.) I have taken to both copying the entire body of my text before publishing and opening a new tab to any old site — usually Facebook, since I only have to type the letter “F” into the address bar in Chrome for it to suggest that to me and it loads quickly — just to make sure the connection hasn’t gone tits-up.

It could, of course, be significantly worse. I’ve been re-reading some old issues of PC Zone recently, and they hail from the pre-broadband days when getting unlimited Internet access via your phone line was a new and exciting thing, but most people were struggling on with 0845 numbers that charged them the same rate as a local phone call while they were online. The letters page of one issue features a letter from someone who wished that multiplayer-focused games would go away — not for the same reason people say this today (oversaturation) but because, in the UK at least, it was a relative minority of people who could play these games at a practical speed and without their phone bill going through the roof.

I remember vividly trying to get a two-player game of Quake going via a direct modem connection a while back, and it was just impossible to do so. And all the while I was trying to get this going, the phone line was tied up and pissing off my parents. (You young ‘uns don’t know you’re born, I tellsya.) We got direct-connect games of Command and Conquer and Red Alert going a few times, but Quake continually eluded us. It wasn’t until I got to university and managed to figure out a way to use our free phone calls between rooms in our hall of residence to fake a Windows network connection that I was able to play a PC-based first-person shooter against another person for the first time. (Not coincidentally, those days spent playing Half-Life against my flatmates Sam and Chris are some of my fondest gaming memories of all time.)

Still, as I say… Proper Internet tomorrow. You don’t realise how much you miss it until it’s not there. It’s such a big part of everyone’s daily life now that the fact we used to only be able to use the Internet for short periods of time at specific times of day (phone calls were cheaper after 6pm!) is all but unthinkable. Nowadays, I’m bitching about the fact I can’t watch Netflix and Crunchyroll over breakfast.

The perils of living in The Future, I guess.

1107: The Common Room

When I look back on past experiences, as I am often wont to do, one of the times I look back on most favourably was my time at sixth form. (For Americans, that’s the equivalent of whatever you call 16-18 education, and is optional; those who want to go straight in to work or training or whatever can leave school at 16.)

There are plenty of reasons that sixth form was one of the happier times of my life, most significantly being the fact that all of the dickheads who had made a large proportion of my school life a misery left at 16, never to be seen again. I wasn’t sorry to see them gone, particularly as their non-presence meant that I was left with just people I actually liked.

Our sixth form was based on the same campus as our secondary school, you see — it was part of the school, in fact — which meant that it was a lot smaller than a dedicated sixth form college and thus the sort of environment where it was completely possible to be friends with (or at least know) everyone. This was a pleasant feeling; it brought a sense of comfortable familiarity to the daily grind, and it meant that you were rarely, if ever, thrown into an uncomfortable social situation whereby you were forced to work with people you’d never seen before in your life. (I know some people have no problem with that, but as you probably know if you’ve been reading this a while, I most definitely am not one of them.)

I enjoyed the learning side of sixth form. The teachers were far more informal, willing to let us call them by their first names and, in some cases, confiding in us about students lower down the school that they just didn’t like. (One of our teachers pretty much believed that no-one under the age of 15 had any right to exist in public, and could often be seen tutting and shaking his head out of the window at some particularly rambunctious youngsters. Having spent some time at the chalkface myself, I now understand exactly where he was coming from.)

We learned interesting stuff, too. Learning A-Level Sociology, for example, was a completely different matter to learning GCSE Integrated Humanities, which was basically the same subject. We had hardcore textbooks and we wrote essays that included names and dates in brackets, like proper academics.

A-Level English was great, too — I enjoyed the language side far more than the literature side, I have to say — and we got to study all manner of interesting topics like the way children acquire language, pidgins and patois and even taboo language. There was a certain degree of novelty in being able to get away with writing the word “fuck” in an essay.

I think by far my fondest memories, though, are from the downtime between classes, during free periods and those times when we were avoiding going to the utterly pointless General Studies class. (I got an A in its final exam having attended one lesson out of two years’ worth.) We’d hang out, we’d eat rather poor baguettes from the coffee shop at the recreation centre on the school campus, and we’d mess around with the “brand new” (rather battered, old and crusty) computers that the (actually) brand new sixth form centre had been provided with.

The computers were a source of constant amusement despite the fact that none of them were connected to the Internet. (The Internet was still in its relative infancy in those days, and having a school-wide network for students to use was unheard of.) The gentleman in charge of the computers was a chap called Adrian, who couldn’t have been that much older than us and clearly didn’t know the first thing about computers. He’d often berate us for completely nonsensical misdemeanours, and warn us of bizarre things like the fact that dropping paper down the back of the printer would supposedly make it catch fire. (Uh, no.)

We took great delight at tormenting Adrian at every opportunity. He sort of deserved it, because he was an interfering busybody who regularly got in the way of people actually trying to do useful stuff with the computers, and his overly-superior attitude (and complete lack of ICT knowledge) made him a worthwhile opponent. Consequently, we often engaged in various acts of light cyber-terrorism to mess with him. We’d set passwords on the screensavers, set all the computers to play a full-screen video of a chimp having a wee in its mouth (I think it may have been this one, though obviously this was long before YouTube, meaning someone must have brought it in on a floppy disk or CD — I never knew who) before subtly unplugging the mouse and keyboard, and on one memorable occasion we spent lunchtime making a complete game in Klik & Play called Cock Wars, which featured two crudely-drawn phalluses battling it out for intergalactic spunky supremacy, then left it running on every machine as afternoon classes started.

Our crowning achievement in trolling Adrian had to be what we did on our very last day at sixth form. Someone had discovered how easy it was to pop off the keys on the cheap and nasty computer keyboards that were hooked up to our cheap and nasty keyboards, so we had the bright idea of leaving Adrian a little message on one keyboard, just as our way of saying goodbye. Said message ended up being “BOLLOCKSPANTSHOMOCOCK” where once there had been a normal keyboard layout. You’ll notice there are quite a few letter “O”s in that little sequence; this, of course, meant that we had to borrow keys from a variety of other keyboards, including those from different rooms. Sadly, we never got to see his reaction, and the Instamatic photo we took of the keyboard turned out to be far too blurry to make out the letters. Boo.

I do sort of feel a bit bad, looking back on those days — I know what it’s like to be tormented by teenage charges — but then I remember how irritating Adrian was and how he would completely refuse to listen to someone who actually did know what they were talking about when it came to computers. He was completely unable to listen to reason, and… look, he was just a bit of a dick, all right? You’ll have to take my word on this one; most of you will know I don’t dislike people lightly. Besides, we never did anything that actually damaged the computers; the only incident that would have inconvenienced him at all would have been the keyboard thing.

Anyway, yeah. Sixth form was good times. I miss those days, but they’re a long time ago now.

1106: Nepgagaga Complete… Mk2

I beat Hyperdimension Neptunia Mk2 tonight, and have now seen one of its seven endings. The one I got tonight was the most fiddly and awkward to get — those who have played the game will know it as the “Conquest Ending” — and was also very, very, dark. Said darkness was all the more effective considering how light and breezy the rest of the game had been; after some 20-odd hours of all-female yuri moe shenanigans in the party, to suddenly be confronted by something that was quite genuinely emotionally affecting was testament to what a good job the game had done in building up its characters’ personalities and relationships.

But I shan’t talk too much more about the plot for fear of getting into spoiler territory. I do, however, want to make a point of talking about the game itself a bit more, and reiterating a few things I have previously said about it.

The main thing that I would like to say about it is that it’s quite possibly the most fun I’ve had with a JRPG in ages. It was consistently fun, didn’t outstay its welcome (a single playthrough clocks in at under 30 hours on your first time through and is considerably quicker if you New Game+ it up after that) and made use of some great (and quite original) systems. It then wrapped the whole experience in a plot that, while a little preachy at times, provided a great opportunity for the characters and setting to shine and show that the world of Hyperdimension Neptunia was far more than just a one-trick pony of self-referential humour relating to anime and games.

It’s a stark contrast to the first Hyperdimension Neptunia; I had a huge amount of fun with the original game, but any time I talk about it I feel the need to add a disclaimer that I’m aware of all its flaws and that it was critically panned on release. And that’s at least partly justified; if you don’t get into the plot, setting and characters of the first Hyperdimension Neptunia, there’s little more than a mediocre dungeon crawler with an interesting combat system underneath — probably not enough to hold the interest of someone who is not fully invested in the experience.

The second installment, meanwhile, is quite simply a good game. While it’s still got its cheeky, innuendo-filled self-referential sense of humour intact and its tongue firmly planted in its cheek for most of the way through, it doesn’t rely on cheap gags and references alone to carry the experience. Beneath the silliness is a rock-solid JRPG with some really cool mechanics.

Let’s start with the combat system. Unlike the previous game, which followed a fairly conventional turn-based system coupled with a Xenogears-style combo-making mechanic, Hyperdimension Neptunia Mk2’s battle system brings in some additional tactical elements that really change things up.

In the first game, each character had a set amount of “action points” (AP) to expend on their combos each turn, and various achievements such as breaking an enemy’s guard or performing a special “combo link” move would give some of these points back, allowing a single turn to last for longer. You could also switch the currently-active member with one who was in the off-screen “back row” using certain special combo finishers, effectively allowing you a free turn if you were careful about your AP expenditure.

The second game maintains the AP system, but provides a degree more flexibility. Each character has a base amount of AP that top up to full at the start of each turn if they used them all the previous turn, but AP can also “overflow” over their maximum if the character deliberately finishes their turn early. This is a necessary tactic to unleash some of the more effective “EX combos” — special moves triggered by specific button combinations, some of which require more than a full AP bar’s worth of AP to use.

Alongside the AP system is a new stat called Skill Points (SP). This is a mechanic in which hitting an enemy and taking damage adds to a bar which gradually counts up to 300. Characters’ unique skills — now selectable from a separate menu rather than having to be incorporated into a combo — all cost a particular number of AP and SP to unleash, with the more devastating moves requiring more SP. SP skills vary from powerful attacks on a single enemy to area or line attacks, or buff/healing skills to benefit the party. Protagonist Nepgear and the other “CPU Candidate” characters can also transform into their “Hard Drive Divinity” goddess forms by spending 100 SP, but the remaining SP after the 100 ticks down each turn, and they revert to human when SP runs out completely.

There are three different types of move that can be performed in combat: fast moves hit multiple times and thus build up the SP bar faster, hard moves inflict more damage and are often magical in nature, and breaker moves concentrate on damaging the enemy’s “guard” bar, which, when depleted, allows the player characters to do more damage than usual. Fighting effectively is a case of knowing what moves to use when — some enemies are more susceptible to magical hard attacks, for example, while others take more damage from multi-hit combos. Building up a big combo also helps Nepgear and her friends to maintain their goddess forms for longer.

Oh, you can move around in combat, too. It’s surprising what a huge difference this makes; the simple addition of a mechanic whereby attacks affect a physical area rather than a specific enemy/character means that positioning is very important.

So that’s the combat system. The other interesting mechanic is the “shares” system, which was also present in the first game but never explained at all, despite its manipulation being necessary to attain the “true” ending. The amount of control the game’s four “friendly” nations and the antagonist faction have over the game world is reflected by the shares, and forms an interesting (if lightweight) strategic metagame atop the whole experience. There’s an overall “world control” chart, which shows which faction has the upper hand — initially the antagonists by a considerable degree — and localised charts corresponding to each nation’s capital and smaller, non-interactive towns around their landmass.

You can manipulate the shares by doing quests. Each quest has a sponsor city somewhere on the map — either one of the four capitals or one of each nation’s smaller towns — and will increase one faction’s shares in that area while depleting another’s by the corresponding amount. By manipulating the shares, you can effectively change which faction controls each area, and which area has greater dominance over the world as a whole. It’s not always simple, though — sometimes you’ll have to run one quest to wrest an area’s control away from the antagonists and into its native hands, then another to give these shares to another territory if necessary.

While it may be tempting to simply plough all your efforts into increasing Nepgear’s native Planeptune shares as high as possible, this isn’t necessarily advisable — controlling more than 55% of the world by a particular point in the story unlocks the aforementioned “Conquest” ending, which is rather traumatic if you’re not ready for it!

The shares are used for a number of different purposes. Firstly, they affect various characters’ stats — if you’re using one of the “goddess” characters from the land of Lastation, for example, increasing Lastation’s world share will make these characters stronger while others become weaker. It is possible to keep things nicely balanced if you want to use all the goddesses in your party — you’ll just have to eradicate the antagonist’s faction altogether to do that.

The second function of the shares is to help determine the ending you get. I’ve already mentioned the 55% world share that Planeptune requires for the “Conquest” ending; that’s by far the hardest one to get, as it involves effectively taking over the other countries through a whole bunch of careful questing. Other endings have less stringent requirements; faction-specific endings simply require that particular capital cities have a strong majority control by their native territory as well as Nepgear having a good relationship with the goddess characters of the area, while the “human” ending requires that you avoid any sort of dominance whatsoever. Finally, the “true” ending, which goes on for a whole extra chapter after the game usually ends, requires that the world is divided up nice and neatly between the four factions, and that the antagonists are wiped out as much as possible.

You’ll notice I’ve barely mentioned the plot at all in this post, and that’s because I want to make a point about Hyperdimension Neptunia Mk2 — even without its big-eyed anime girl shenanigans, it would be a rock-solid game. It’s a crying shame that so many people I’ve spoken to won’t even consider playing it because of 1) its predecessor’s poor reputation and 2) its aesthetic and character design. Hopefully the things I’ve said in this post have at least piqued your curiosity a little — it’s a great game and genuinely well worth your time, and if you don’t feel like you can stomach the first in the series (which I maintain is fun and entertaining despite its myriad flaws) it’s perfectly accessible to newcomers.

I’ll see you in Gamindustri!

1105: Braindead

It’s coming up on 1am and I’m struggling of things to write here. But write I must.

Well, let’s review how things are going. That’s usually a good way to fill a day’s post, as nothing especially interesting has happened today. Unless you count letting our pet rats out for a run around in the hallway and going to Yo! Sushi (not at the same time) as being somehow “interesting”. I guess both of those are sort of interesting — I mean, I enjoyed them both — but really, you sort of had to be there in both instances.

It’s coming up on the end of the first month of 2013, and we’re still in that weird sort of limbo where it doesn’t quite feel right to talk about the year being 2013. I mean, I’m not sure what I’m really expecting to “feel” different, after all, but a new year is always a symbolic sort of thing, after all.

This year has already started somewhat differently, though, because I’m in a nice flat in the city I wanted to (and indeed used to) live in. I’m close to my friends (geographically speaking, obviously) and have even had them over to visit more times in the last month than I did in the year and a half I lived in Chippenham, which is good and makes me happy. I feel like I’m in a relatively comfortable situation — I enjoy my job, particularly as I get to work from home; I have an awesome girlfriend who puts up with my idiosyncracies and shows an interest in the things I’m passionate about; I have two surprisingly entertaining pet rats to whom I probably attribute far too much in the way of perceived personality; I’m relatively comfortably off money-wise, having cleared a bunch of longstanding debts last year (though student loan is still outstanding and probably always will be, gah); and, to cut a long, tedious and fairly directionless list short, I’m feeling fairly positive about the future.

As anyone who has suffered with one of the various forms of depression and/or anxiety will attest, though, it’s not always that easy to keep feeling positive, even though things are generally seemingly going sort of all right. It’s easy to lapse into negative feelings or self-doubt, and wonder if the things you’re doing are really the right things. It’s easy to want to make big, grand gestures to define yourself and feel like your life is moving in the right direction, but at the same time it’s difficult to either carry those things through — or even to know if they’re the right thing to do in the first place.

I’m content for now, though, occasional lapses in mood aside. It’s a pleasant feeling. I know I still have some way to go before feeling “better” — if it’s ever truly possible to feel “better” from these sorts of issues — but I at least feel like I’m heading in the right direction. When I look back at some of the posts I made over a thousand days ago, I see someone who was desperately unhappy and struggling to make it through the day for much of his time. It’s hard to let memories of bad times like that go, but I’d be lying if I said things weren’t massively better than they were way back then.

Onwards and upwards, then. The end of January will see us take ownership of a new sofa that will hopefully fit up the stairs into our flat, have our Internet properly connected and subsequently feel like we’re “properly” settled in.

Bring it on 2013, I’m a-ready for ya.

1104: Tsuntsun, Deredere

It’s funny to think that it was only this time last year that I played Katawa Shoujo, rekindled my love for all things Japanese and got properly “into” the visual novel medium. Over the course of last year, I played a bunch of VNs and took some tentative steps into the world of anime, too, and I haven’t really looked back since. I’ve found a medium (well, several forms of closely-related media, really) that “speaks” to me, and that’s always a pleasant feeling, particularly when there is a whole shitload of stuff in that medium for you to explore and discover.

Because it was only last year that I got into all this shit, though, it was only last year that I found out what the word “tsundere” means. I had occasionally heard it mentioned by people I knew were into anime and Japanese games, but I’d never thought to look it up before — perhaps because I assumed it was an obscure, specialist piece of jargon relating to something that I wasn’t, at the time, particularly immersed in.

There’s a good chance that there are a few of you reading this who have absolutely no fucking idea what I’m talking about right now, so allow me to educate you. Then you can walk away from one of these posts feeling like you’ve learned something for once. Wouldn’t that be nice? Of course it would. Let’s go, then.

“Tsundere” is a word primarily (though not exclusively) used in relation to characters in Japanese media (manga, anime, games and everything in between) who run “hot and cold”. Tsunderes are usually female, though not always. The word is a portmanteau that combines parts of two different words to describe the two main moods of the character — tsuntsun describes the part of the personality that is aloof and/or irritable or even outright hostile; deredere describes the soft, squishy and adorable lovestruck centre that the abrasive exterior is protecting.

The tsundere is a stock character in a variety of Japanese works, and can pretty much be guaranteed to put in an appearance in any “harem” stories — i.e. those that include a male protagonist and a disparate gaggle of female heroines who flock to him for various reasons that are not always to do with love or sexuality. (Popular anime Sword Art Online has been described by some as a harem work, for example; even though the main focus of the story is on the romantic relationship between protagonist Kirito and female lead Asuna rather than Kirito attempting to knob his way around cyberspace, a number of episodes introduce a female character who is drawn to the protagonist for some reason before disappearing without a trace by the next episode.) They are a character type that is obviously exaggerated for either comic or dramatic effect — sometimes both — and thus it’s unlikely that you’d find a real-life tsundere. At least, not one that takes quite the same form as you’d see one in an anime or game.

The tsundere can be recognised through a number of different means. Most commonly, it’s through the use of the iconic combo of stuttering slightly when around the object of their affections, and the curiously-specific denial of something that belies their deredere side through what initially appears to be tsuntsun behaviour. (“What? I-it’s not like I’ve been thinking about you or anything…!”) Other tell-tale signs include excessive use of the word “baka” (idiot, stupid) for the slightest misdemeanour and blushing beet red when confronted with an obviously romantic or sexual situation that they haven’t steeled themselves for.

Most tsunderes have tsuntsun as their default behaviour pattern and lapse into deredere when they let their guard down, but characters who represent an inversion of this format exist, too, spending most of their time adorably lovestruck and occasionally lapsing into abrasiveness and hostility if provoked. The latter type can easily be confused with the yandere, which also has deredere as their default behaviour type, but hides proper full-on psychotic mania underneath if the object of their affections either doesn’t want them or is taken away from them. (A tell-tale sign that an anime yandere is about to go bonkers, incidentally, is that their eyes go completely blank, lacking the usual “sparkles” seen in the corner of anime eyes. If a character goes like that, you should probably get worried, and you can pretty much guarantee that someone is going to die very soon.)

Yanderes aside, the tsundere’s behaviour is usually tolerated and accepted by their friends, and rarely commented on directly — it’s just the sort of person they are. The object of their affections usually has to take the brunt of the tsuntsun side, but close friends who want to help the tsundere get closer to the person they obviously like often have to deal with this, too. More often than not, the long-suffering best friend either just shakes it off or is completely oblivious to it, having presumably learned to tune it out a long time ago.

There’s something oddly attractive about a tsundere character, which probably explains why it’s such a commonly-appearing trope. I couldn’t possibly speak for everyone on why this is, but from my own personal perspective, I find the commonly-used “hard-hearted bitch showing a softer side” approach to be an effective one that helps me to sympathise with the characters in the relationship. Reasons that “tsuntsun by default” tsunderes act the way they do vary by story, but one thing is constant — letting that deredere side out is a sign that they’re letting down the barriers around themselves and showing another character that they both trust them and care about them. It can be a very touching moment if handled effectively.

Here are a few of my favourite tsunderes. Oh come on, you knew this was coming.

Noire (Hyperdimension Neptunia)

Noire, the character who represents Sony and the PlayStation in the Hyperdimension Neptunia series of games, is very obviously a tsundere thanks to her regular use of curiously-specific denials when talking to Neptune in particular. She seems aloof, arrogant and abrasive most of the time, but gradually reveals herself to be someone who just really likes to try and do their best at all times. She obviously likes Neptune, despite what often appears to be open hostility, and has found that her efforts to make the land of Lastation as good as it can be have left her lonely.

Irina (My Girlfriend is the President)

Irina Vladimirovna Putina, the Rusian [sic] president in the visual novel My Girlfriend is the President, is a textbook tsundere. Spending most of her time early in the game alternating between yelling at the protagonist Junichiro and twatting him around the head with her slapping fan every time he does something pervy (which is quite often), she eventually shows a softer side and ends up being a positive influence on Jun. Jun also has a positive effect on her; while she manages to mellow him out somewhat, his easygoing nature helps her be less uptight.

Ayano (Yuru Yuri)

Poor old Ayano is the butt of a bunch of jokes in the slice-of-life anime Yuru Yuri. The feisty redhead is obviously carrying a rather large torch for resident chaotic character Kyoko and is completely unable to express her feelings adequately, instead regularly flying into a blind rage at Kyoko’s slightest misdemeanours. Kyoko, being Kyoko, doesn’t mind at all, and is oblivious to Ayano’s feelings. The only one who is truly aware of Ayano’s crush is student council member Chitose, who regularly fantasises about the pair of them, usually resulting in a violent nosebleed.

1103: One Hundred Percent

I very rarely “100%” the games I play. The reason for this is that in many cases, doing so involves a lot of abject tedium and just stops being fun after a while. Often it requires the systematic use of a walkthrough to find all the hidden packages/shoot all the pigeons/see all the events, and once you start playing with a walkthrough next to you, I often feel you’re missing out on part of the game’s fun — discovery.

And yet I find myself tempted to pursue all of the endings in Hyperdimension Neptunia Mk2 simply because it’s one of the most enjoyable, entertaining games I’ve played for a very long time. Whether or not this means I will actually play through the whole thing enough times to get each separate ending or just cheat the system with a well-timed save I haven’t decided yet… but I do sort of want to see all the different endings and all the content on offer.

An exception to the 100% rule is visual novels. I’ll usually try and see everything a visual novel has to offer before moving on, because it’s often quite straightforward to do so — though in games with a huge number of decision points like School Days HQ, it’s often quite a time-consuming process. I have, to date, 100%ed several visual novels, though, including Katawa Shoujo and Kana Little Sister. When I finished them, I did feel satisfied that I’d seen everything the game had to offer because, in those cases, very little felt like filler.

In the case of RPGs, though, a lot of that additional content to push you up towards the magic 100% figure is very grindy, rather dull and has nothing to do with the story. But in some cases, the game can wrap you up in its world and its systems enough for that to not matter. Final Fantasy VII is the earliest example I can think of that my friends and I worked all the way through and acquired (almost) all of the secret stuff — all the hidden materias, all the nightmarish Chocobo breeding and at least a good attempt at the secret areas and bosses. We loved that game so much we didn’t want to stop playing; pursuing these time-consuming, ultimately irrelevant and often game-breaking sidequests meant we could continue playing for longer, so we did. Then we played it again. To date, I have no idea how my friends and I found time to complete Final Fantasy VII as many times as we did.

So far as Hyperdimension Neptunia Mk2 goes, a single playthrough is apparently relatively short (for an RPG, anyway) and thus charging through it multiple times isn’t out of the question. The advent of the “New Game+” mode means that you can carry a bunch of stuff over from game to game, too; given that a number of the endings are dependent on some gradually-increasing relationship statistics that will likely be a bit of a pain to achieve in a single playthrough without some serious grinding, it almost makes sense to play it through several times to make building up these values a more natural process. Hmm. Hmm.

Oh, what the hell. I saw all four endings of Nier (and had my save file deleted by the game to prove it) and enjoyed the experience hugely. (Yes, I enjoyed Nier.) It is but a small jump from four different endings to seven, right?

Right?

Place your bets now on how many I get through before I give up.

1102: The Golden Age of Magazines

I really love re-reading old games and tech magazines, particularly those from the ’80s and ’90s. There’s a rather wonderful sense of innocence about the monsters that video games and Internet culture would become, and an even more pleasant feeling of knowing that an article was written to be a lot more “permanent” than the somewhat disposable writing for websites we have today. I’m not saying that writing is inherently worse today, of course — on the whole I think it’s a lot better for the most part — but that the sheer volume of it these days makes it more and more difficult to build up a portfolio of specific pieces you’re really proud of rather than stuff that’s just been churned out for the daily grind.

Taking video games magazines specifically, I particularly enjoy the completely different approach to games criticism seen in the mid- to late ’90s. Because reviews came out on a magazine’s street date rather than under the carefully-timed embargo of a PR department, you could generally feel pretty secure that the writers in question had spent a healthy proportion of the preceding month with the game, and that you knew they would have explored it inside out in most cases rather than rushing through. Consequently, we got a lot of reviews that were more like multi-page features, filled with big images, annotated screenshots, quotes from the developer and all manner of other things. Sometimes you even got reviews in a completely different format — PC Zone magazine, which I was loyal to initially because I liked it and later because my brother became the big boss man over there (also I wrote a number of articles for it), liked to experiment with short-form quick reviews for budget or crap games, and also held regular “Supertests”, in which they took a variety of different games in the same genre (often flight sims of various descriptions) and compared them directly to each other to determine which one was “best”.

You know what the absolute best thing was, though? No comments sections. I must confess that when reading a 1998 copy of PC Zone on the toilet the other day, I instinctively found myself glancing at the end of a somewhat contentious article (written by none other than Charlie Brooker, who used to be a regular for Zone, believe it or not) to see the ranty comments. I had already flipped the pages to the end of the piece before I realised I was holding a magazine in my hands, and that its content was static and non-interactive. It was probably for the best; Brooker’s article was a candid exploration of “why girls don’t like games” which was very, very amusing, very, very irreverent and would not have got within a mile of today’s Misogyny Police before being torn to shreds — despite the fact that it had a wealth of valid points and was clearly intended to take the piss out of anyone who believed that games were solely “boys’ toys”. But I digress. The point was, there was no opportunity to respond immediately to an article and belch forth the first opinionated effluvia that came into your head; if you wanted to respond, you had to damn well write a letter (or, later — much later — an email) and hope it got published in the following issue. PC Zone engaged in what is surely one of the first acts of trolling their comments sections on a number of occasions, tasking Brooker with responding to the most offensive, rude and generally disrespectful messages on a special “Sick Notes” page. Hilarity inevitably ensued, usually at the expense of the person who had written in.

I kind of feel like there was a lot more character about the old magazines in general. I read PC Zone primarily because I enjoyed the writers’ work and knew their tastes and senses of humour; I knew that David McCandless was obsessed with Doom and Quake (particularly multiplayer); I knew that Chris Anderson loved X-Com; I knew that you could count on Brooker for an irreverent, hilarious article — his Fade to Black preview written entirely as a short story about “Monsieur Conrad ‘Art” in Franglais was a particularly memorable example.

Different magazines had their own distinctive personalities, too — I contributed walkthroughs and tips books to the Official UK Nintendo Magazine for a while and was obliged to write using a particularly loathsome house style that effectively required me to write like a chav. Lots of “ya”s and “yer”s, and Mario was perpetually referred to as “Mazza”. It was a magazine primarily aimed at children, of course, so this style was understandable, of course — looking back on it, though, it’s more than a little cringeworthy.

I sort of miss magazines, then — I know they’re still around and all that, but the magic just isn’t there any more when you can get access to high-quality writing for free at your fingertips thanks to the Internet. That’s sort of sad, really; while you can take an iPad into the toilet with you and browse your favourite sites, it’s still not quite the same as having a proper magazine to leaf through at your leisure.

1101: Just Finish the Damn Thing

I’ve lost count of the number of “make my own game” projects I’ve started and abandoned over the years. I’ve started a new one recently which, theoretically, should be relatively straightforward to finish, so I will keep you all updated on its progress occasionally via this blog.

I’m no programmer, so I tend to gravitate towards solutions that allow you to flex your creative muscles and create interactive entertainment without having to, well, code anything. My weapon of choice for the last few attempts has been the excellent RPG Maker VX Ace, which is an immensely powerful tool capable of doing some really great things while at the same time allowing pretty much anyone to churn out a fairly generic top-down JRPG without too much difficulty.

It’s the “capable of doing some really great things” part that I often find myself struggling with. Y’see, the trouble with being presented with a wealth of possibilities is choosing which ones you want to pursue and which ones you want to ignore. The temptation is to incorporate as many of them as possible in an attempt to make something as awesome as possible, but inevitably if you do that — particularly if you’re working alone — you’ll hit a brick wall where something doesn’t quite work properly with something else, get disheartened and probably give up.

I’m talking vaguely. Let me give some specific examples. The new game I’ve started making as a means of proving I can take a project through from start to finish is simply an adaptation of the quests from MB/Games Workshop’s classic board game Hero Quest. Given that the structure and storyline of the Hero Quest board game is very much a generic sort of dungeon crawler, this shouldn’t be too difficult once I’ve done what I always initially think of as “the annoying bit” — setting up the characters, statistics, skills and whatnot, and finding some appropriate graphics for their sprites. (I call it “the annoying bit” but if I sit down and get on with it, I actually find this part quite fun after a while.)

Anyway, I’m about halfway done with “the annoying bit” — its initial stages, anyway — and already I’m finding myself torn in several directions. Do I stick with RPG Maker’s rather generic first-person battle interface? It doesn’t evoke the feel of Hero Quest that much, but then trying to adapt a board game and sticking too religiously to its rules can often ruin the “computer gaminess” of it. All right then, I thought, I’ll stick with this battle system, but I’ll tweak it so things like damage formulae are a little closer to rolling the dice in the game. Except when I thought I’d done that, I discovered that my ineptitude with composing damage formulae to accurately simulate dice rolls created a number of monsters that were literally impossible to hurt. Not good. I replaced the formula with its original one, which deals with much higher numbers than your average tabletop game. Will that ruin the atmosphere? Is “Rogar does 96 damage” somehow less powerful than “Rogar does 4 damage”? Probably not. That’s a stupid thing to think.

I’m probably overthinking it, I know, and should just get on with it. What I think I really need to do is just make the game with the default systems, and then tweak and fine-tune afterwards. Difficulty balancing and that sort of thing is an important part of testing, so I’ll leave that until there’s actually a game there to test — there’s no point getting hung up on problems that don’t actually exist yet.

So that’s the plan. Over the next few days I will be taking some time to plug in Hero Quest’s various spells and items into the game in a format that will work within RPG Maker’s style of play, then I’ll put the game itself together. Then I’ll show it to some select friends — this project probably won’t get a wide release, unless it actually ends up being surprisingly good — and then, flush with satisfaction at having actually carried something through to completion for once, I can embark on something a little more ambitious.

One step at a time.

1100: The One where Pete Watches ‘Friends’ for the First Time in Quite a While

I went through a phase a few years back of watching just two or three different TV series over and over again on a cycle. They were my passive-consumption “comfort food”, if you will — things I turned to when I didn’t really want to do anything, but didn’t really want to fall into that pit of depressed ennui that normally ends up with staring at the wall for hours at a time. Those shows included Spaced and Black Books, which are two series I still own the DVDs for and will never get rid of, and Friends, which I have never owned a complete collection of but have had scattered home-recorded VHS tapes and a few purchased DVDs and videos over the years — also, for many years, it was on a constant cycle of repeats on E4 alongside Scrubs.

Friends is something that I’ve watched so many times now that I can pretty much recite it word for word along with any episode that’s on. It kind of fell out of favour with the public in its latter stages as many people saw it as outstaying its welcome, but I enjoyed it consistently all the way through. As I say, it was comfort food; you knew what to expect with every episode. It was never anything adventurous, but the characters were both relatable and attractive, the situations they got into often personally relevant, and the quips and jokes memorable and, yes, genuinely amusing.

I started re-watching Friends again the other day having come into possession of a complete collection, only this time around I’m watching the “extended cuts” that came out a few years back. These aren’t Lucasesque “special edition” versions, they’re simply about 5 minutes longer per episode, with numerous scenes restored to their full length and, in many cases, adding a whole bunch of additional context and depth to the characters and setting that simply wasn’t there before due to the constraints of the TV scheduling.

I’m really enjoying them so far. This extra footage means that watching the show again after a few years’ break strikes a wonderful balance between the comfortably familiar and the brand-new — and, given how well I know the original versions, I can immediately recognise when something is new. In many cases, scenes that had rather awkward and obvious edits on TV now make much more sense, and in some cases there are scenes that I simply don’t think were even there at all in the first place — Joey’s first meeting with his colourful agent Estelle, for example.

More than the pleasure of getting some “new” Friends to watch, though, I’m overwhelmed with the feeling of comfortable nostalgia that watching this show always infuses in me. I’ve spent so much time with these characters inside my TV over the years that I feel like they’re my friends, too — a fact helped by the fact that I still, to this day, tend to group people in my mind according to which one of the main cast they most remind me of. (Shh. Don’t tell anyone.)

One thing I’d forgotten about is that the show appeared to coin the term “friend zone” back in its first season, where Joey uses it to describe Ross having waited too long to make his move on Rachel. I shan’t get into any of that endless discussion over people who use the term “friend zone” today because it’s inordinately tedious and frustrating, but I wonder how many people remember where it actually came from and its original context. A few years back, I would have deemed it unthinkable for someone to not have knowledge of Friends, but a lot of years have passed since then.

And yet, I struggle to think of a recent TV show I’ve been quite as attached to as Friends. I’ve enjoyed various American comedies that have come since — How I Met Your Mother was originally sold to me as something of a successor to Friends in many ways, and I have major soft spots for Parks and Recreation and 30 Rock — but for me, nothing will ever be quite the same as the time I spent with Monica, Phoebe, Rachel, Ross, Chandler and Joey. However well (or otherwise) you think it may well have aged, there’s little denying that for many people of a similar age to me, Friends was and is a touchstone of popular culture that will always carry at least some degree of personal resonance.

1099: Nep-Nep-Nep-Nep

It’s another Hyperdimension Neptunia post, I’m afraid. Normally I’d make an effort to try not to talk too much about the same thing several days in a row, but having started the sequel to Hyperdimension Neptunia (imaginatively titled Hyperdimension Neptunia Mk2) this evening, I felt compelled to share some of my first impressions. (Besides, this is my blog, dammit.)

That first impression can largely be summed up by me nodding and smiling at developers Compile Heart and Idea Factory and going “Good job, guys.”

You see, Hyperdimension Neptunia Mk2 takes all the things that were good about its predecessor — an amusing but oddly well-realised world; some excellent, memorable characters; some lovely 2D art — and ditches all the things that were a bit rubbish. Consequently, out go the endless cookie-cutter dungeons, out go the PS1-era random encounters, out go the weirder aspects of the battle system (like the bizarre mid-combat “item crafting” system and the seeming necessity to skip animations to take full advantage of the “guard break” mechanic) and out go the sequences that served no purpose (waiting for landmasses to approach and then having to run an insultingly easy dungeon every time you wanted to travel anywhere).

In comes a game which is not just a dream come true for a Hyperdimension Neptunia fan, but a game which actually appears to be a very good JRPG generally. Okay, you’re still controlling an all-female party of candy-coloured self-referential anime archetypes so if you’re not on board with that you’re never going to be on board with this series, but almost everything about the first game that sucked a bit has seemingly been rectified with this new game. It’s still not perfect and it’s still rough around the edges — the in-engine graphics are still a bit PS2-ish in quality, riddled with jaggies (can’t remember the last time I wrote that word!) and the frame rate still blows, but just like the original managed to be entertaining despite its flaws and technical shortcomings, so too does its sequel. Only said sequel is, as I say, a much better game on the whole, too.

The biggest overhaul to the game’s base can be seen in the battle system. It’s still focused on making combos, but there’s no longer the need to micromanage every possible combination of three different buttons pressed up to four times. I actually quite liked this aspect of the original, as it gave the game a fun puzzly mechanic as you attempted to make combos that flowed nicely in to one another, but it did make getting a new character a bit tiresome, as you had to spend a good 10-15 minutes setting up their button combinations — usually only to discover in a boss fight that you’d done something wrong somewhere. (Fortunately, it was possible to rejig combos in mid-fight, which was nice.)

Nope, what we have now is a much more streamlined system — triangle button does multi-hit attacks, square button does powerful attacks, cross button does attacks that prioritise damage to the enemies’ “guard gauge”. Like before, each attack costs a certain number of Ability Points (AP) to perform. An initial attack is of a fixed type, but from that point on, you can customise the specific “move” (and AP cost) that is assigned to each of the three buttons depending on if it is the second, third or fourth attack in a combo. Characters unlock “EX” attacks as they level up, requiring that the player use both a specific button combination and expend a particular number of AP during a combo before triggering a more powerful special move. Each character has their own suite of “skills” outside the attacks, too, which cost a combination of AP and Skill Points (SP, which charge up through attacking enemies) to perform. These vary from special attacks to support buffs and healing skills, and mean there’s no longer the reliance on random chance when attempting to keep your party at full health.

Combat now allows characters to move, too, giving the whole thing a light strategic feel, as all attacks cover a particular area, and characters clustered together can all feel the brunt of one enemy’s attack if you’re not careful. The whole thing is way more fast-paced than the previous game — a feeling helped even more by the fact that the load times between field and battle screens are lightning-fast.

I’m not far into the story yet, but it’s been enjoyable so far, despite what essentially amounted to an extremely mild tentacle scene approximately five minutes into the experience. (Said “tentacles” — actually cables — weren’t doing any more than just holding the previous game’s “CPU” goddesses prisoner, but it’s very clear that it was a reference to… well, you know.) New protagonist Nepgear (hah) is appealing and endearing, and successfully distinguishes herself from her ditzy sister — the previous game’s protagonist — by basically being the exact opposite in terms of personality. Where Neptune was loud, brash, confident and, let’s not beat around the bush, endearingly stupid at times, Nepgear is much more reserved, rational, intelligent and innocent. There’s a lot of scope for her to grow as a character — particularly when accompanied by the increasingly world-weary IF (rapidly becoming my favourite character in the series) and the ever-optimistic Compa — so I’ll be interested to see how she develops as her journey progresses.

There’s still a heavy focus on non-linear and repeated sidequesting in the new game, but it actually explains what effect doing quests has right from the beginning this time instead of, you know, not at all. Yes, the “shares” system from the previous game is back again, but it’s integrated into the story this time, representing the world’s level of belief in the “good” goddesses and the evil forces of “Arfoire” — the previous game’s villain and a thinly-veiled reference to the popular Nintendo DS storage device that was often used for piracy. Essentially, doing quests now wrests back “control” of particular areas from Arfoire’s followers, allowing you to strengthen an area’s belief in the goddesses and ultimately turn things around for the world, which has seemingly gone to shit in the intervening time between the end of the first game and the start of the second. Manipulating the shares is also key to unlocking certain events.

Oh, and there’s a whole relationship system between Nepgear and her party members now, rather charmingly called “Lily Rank”. (For those who don’t get why it’s called this, the Japanese word for “lily” is “yuri”, which is a word also often used to refer to same-sex romantic and/or sexual relationships between women — rather appropriate for describing the relationships between members of an all-female party, particularly as within the first three hours Nepgear has already been kissed by one of them, ostensibly to shock her into transforming into her “goddess candidate” form for the first time since escaping captivity in the intro.) Characters with a better Lily Rank between them provide bonuses to one another in combat, and can be paired up to do various joint special abilities. Naturally, a better relationship between them also results in more scenes between them, too.

Also the music’s much better by about a thousand percent.

Also it’s just great. I like it a lot. Actually, I liked the first one a lot, despite its flaws. I can see myself really loving the second one. And the third one’s coming in March! Yay!

I’ll shut up now.