1372: The Good Old Days of the App Store

I’d been pondering this a little recently, but I actually confirmed it for myself today: the games on the App Store of today are not a patch on those that were on it when it first went live.

Oh sure, they’re technically more impressive, with all manner of lovely “console-quality” (whatever the fuck that means) graphics and download sizes that will easily fill up a lesser phone, but there’s really something missing from modern App Store games that was there in spades in early titles.

The title that really drove it home for me was a game called Tilt to Live. This was a score-attack action game that some described as “the iPhone’s Geometry Wars“. It’s not quite an accurate comparison, since Geometry Wars is a twin-stick shooter and Tilt to Live doesn’t involve any shooting whatsoever, but they share a couple of important similarities: they’re easy to understand and super-addictive.

Tilt to Live, lest you’ve never had the pleasure, sees you controlling a small arrowhead-shaped… thing as it attempts to fend off the unwanted attentions of its red dot rivals. In order to destroy red dots, you have to pick up powerups, each of which has a specific effect. Nukes explode at the spot where you picked them up, for example, taking anything caught in the circular Missile Command-style explosion with them, while lasers take a moment to charge before firing a broad beam in the direction you’re travelling. As you progress through the game, you unlock more and more different weapons which are then available from the outset in subsequent playthroughs; the more weapons you have, the easier it is to maintain a combo of dot-killing without stopping, and consequently attain higher scores.

Tilt to Live is so genius because it’s built for its platform. It uses nothing more than the iPhone’s built-in accelerometer, tuned to perfection, and all you have to do is tilt your device around like one of those old “Labyrinth” games. Nothing more than that. There are a couple of other modes, but in essence, all you’re doing in each of them is tilting to move your arrow and attempting to avoid red dots. Simple. Addictive. The perfect mobile game.

Tilt to Live was far from the only game from the App Store’s early years I have fond memories of, though. The early stuff from ngmoco was fantastic, for example — titles like Dr. Awesome (essentially tilt-controlled Qix), Dropship (Defender meets Thrust meets Geometry Wars) and Rolando were all top-notch games that were pretty much essential purchases in the early days of the App Store — everyone who had an iPhone downloaded them, and Apple even featured them in advertising for both the iPhone and iPod touch, the latter of which it looked for a while like Apple was attempting to position as a serious handheld gaming device.

So what happened? Why have I largely lost interest in what the App Store has to offer today? Well, this is probably a gross oversimplification of the matter, but essentially I believe things started to go downhill with the addition of in-app purchases to the App Store.

I remember being skeptical about the supposed benefits of in-app purchases when the upcoming new feature was first announced — it sounded awfully like what triple-A publishers were doing with downloadable content for console games, and that was something that a number of teams had proven could be done very, very wrong. Oddly, initially only paid apps could have in-app purchases, meaning that free apps were always just that — free, though sometimes ad-supported.

Nowadays, of course, the words “free” on an app more often than not mean that you can download the app in question for free, but are often then expected to cough up extra, particularly in the case of games. In-app purchases have gotten so out of control on iOS that it’s rarer not to see a game have a “Get More Gold” button allowing you to purchase in-game currency. And, of course, the moment you see that “Get More Gold” button, you have to start questioning whether the game has been deliberately made more grindy and inconvenient — experts call this “adding friction” or “fun pain” — in the name of squeezing a few extra pennies out of you.

Herein lies the issue, I think: modern App Store games are designed to be money-making machines that trick people into thinking they’re having fun, then encourage them to open their wallets to have even more fun. It’s all a ruse, of course; the “fun” is more often than not an illusion created through carefully-paced rewards and ego-massaging, and the “pain” is created by suddenly denying the player access to these rewards that they’ve come to accept. It’s good business design, but bad game design.

Compare and contrast with a game from the App Store’s earlier era such as Tilt to Live, or ngmoco’s early games. These are games designed for pure fun — and more to the point, they’re highly creative, interesting, distinctive games. Not one of them is a predictable “tap on everything, then wait until you get a push notification to tap on everything again in three hours” title; while some are inspired by classic retro games (or even more recent games such as Loco Roco in the case of Rolando), they each put their own twist on things, respecting the player’s time and wallet in the process — in other words, once you bought these games, they wouldn’t ask you for money again, except in some rare instances such as in Tilt to Live where the developers later added a whole new game mode and sold it rather than bundling it in as a free update.

One of the saddest sights in the App Store is, I think, the massive decline in quality that ngmoco’s titles have taken since those early days. Games like the aforementioned Dr. Awesome and Rolando were genuinely excellent games that helped to define the platform; now, however, all ngmoco does is churn out some of the most tedious, derivative, copycat titles in the entire industry, all in the name of exploiting the social gaming bubble. RIP ngmoco; I thought you were going to be the next big thing in creative indie games at one point, but it was not to be.

True creativity and distinctiveness in the App Store isn’t dead; but with well over a million apps and games on the App Store now, and the charts dominated by free-to-play titles that have effectively bought their rankings rather than earned them, it’s getting harder and harder to find them. How sad.

1371: Cutting the Cord

You’ll recall that I’ve been contemplating this for some time now, but as I promised to myself, I’ve reached a decision: the Monday after this one just coming, I’m deactivating my Facebook account.

“Who cares?” I hear you say. And, well, that’s sort of the point, really; I don’t care about Facebook. It is largely useless to me these days.

As I noted in my post a few days ago, there’s been a noticeable shift in the quality of posts among my Facebook friends recently. While I don’t blame any of them for wanting to share things that are important to them personally, it’s getting to the point where there’s so much noise that there’s not any room for conversation any more.

Social media is increasingly becoming “fire and forget”; people post something designed to get noticed — perhaps a passive-aggressive status update, or some sort of sociopolitical rant, or an Upworthy article with a particularly smug title — and then wait for the comments and likes to roll in. And then… nothing. Nothing at all. There’s no discussion — except in rare sociopolitical cases where you can guarantee there’ll be at least one person coming along to state the opposite opinion and start a tedious circular argument in which no-one ever agrees to disagree — and no real value to it all. For me, anyway.

I remember being resistant to Facebook when it first started getting big. A number of my real-life friends were encouraging me to jump aboard — remember, Facebook used to only allow you to add people you actually knew — but I thought it was going to be a passing Myspace-ish fad, and as such held off for a long time. I finally gave in while I was on holiday in the States visiting my brother, and Facebook proved to be a good means of sharing the photos I’d taken — photos that I was particularly keen to share because I’d started experimenting a bit more with composition and editing.

All was good for a while; Facebook’s Groups and Events features served their purpose for a while, too, proving to be a practical means of organising collections of people and inviting people to events. But increasingly, over time, and as Facebook started to become more and more popular and more open, these features lost their value. When was the last time you responded to an Event invite? When was the last time you joined a Group?

I can trace the beginning of Facebook’s downfall from my personal perspective to a fairly precise moment — it was back when they started making it into a “platform” instead of simply a site; back when Facebook games and “apps” first started appearing. I was initially in favour of this — the accompanying site redesign that came with the launch of the Facebook platform made the site look a whole lot better on big, high-resolution monitors, and it was and still is a potentially good idea to have the site act a bit like an operating system.

Unfortunately, things just declined from there. There started to be too much of everything. Too many games, too many people, too many ways of posting. People felt obliged to share each and every mundane little thing about their lives, egged on by other people and the mass media. Today, you can’t watch the news without the newsreader demanding to “let us know what you think”; you can’t watch a new TV show without a hashtag appearing in the corner.

These things aren’t bad in isolation, of course. It’s neat to be able to discuss a TV show in real time while it’s on; it’s cool that people have a medium of self-expression and communication that simply wasn’t really possible and practical pre-broadband and smartphones. But everything just adds up to a frustrating experience, and it all but destroys the original point of Facebook — a cosy little private network where you could easily communicate with your real-life friends and share select photos and notes with them.

Times have changed. I haven’t gone with them. And I’m fine with that. As such, the Monday after next, my Facebook account is going kaputt. I’m leaving a week’s leeway in order to ensure that those people who do want to stay in touch have the opportunity to pick up my alternative contact details; those who don’t bother? Well, it’s probably time I cut those people out of my life, anyway.

If you’re reading this, have (or indeed had, if you’re reading this after the fact) me on Facebook and want to know alternative means of getting in touch with me if you don’t already have them, let me know via a comment on this post — be sure to leave your email address in the appropriate field.

Tata, Facebook. It’s been fun. It’s not you, it’s me.

Actually, it is you.

1370: What’s Up, Red?

As predicted, I completed Tales of Xillia (like, Platinum completed) earlier, but prior to jumping back into Hyperdimension Neptunia Victory I decided to give Cognition: An Erica Reed Thriller a try.

I’ve had my eye on Cognition ever since it was a modest Kickstarter campaign from a group previously best-known for a(n admittedly very good) King’s Quest spinoff. It sounded interesting for a number of reasons: firstly, that it was a modern adventure game — the supposed “death” of the point-and-click genre was somewhat exaggerated — and secondly, that Jane Jensen (of King’s Quest VI and Gabriel Knight fame) was acting as “story consultant”. While this isn’t quite the same as having her actually write it, it would, I thought, at least provide a greater-than-average chance of the game having a decent, well-written story.

I played through the first of the game’s four episodes earlier, and was not disappointed. Given that most people I know who have played it seem to think that the first episode is the weakest, I’m very excited to see what follows.

Cognition follows the adventures of FBI agent Erica Reed, a feisty redhead haunted by her inability to save her brother from a serial killer three years prior to the events of the main plot. Erica’s a little unusual, however, in that she has a strange supernatural ability that enables her to relive and even manifest memories from the past simply by touching things. Initially, all she can do is touch an object or body and witness a short snippet of what happened, but as the game proceeds, she learns a couple of new abilities under the tutelage of the Wise Old Mystic Woman Who Runs the Antique Shop.

It would have been easy for Cognition to play up its supernatural aspect and even rely on it too much to carry its mystery story, but Erica’s abilities are used sparingly, subtly and effectively. It’s rarely a “magic bullet” that allows her to do things a good forensics team wouldn’t be able to do given enough time; it is, more often than not, used as a means of ushering the story along by providing clues.

It’s much more complex than just flashbacks, though; in one of the best puzzles in the game, you’re tasked with using your “regression” ability to reconstruct the memories of a key witness who can’t remember some important information you need. By collecting information and using it to prompt the witness to remember things, you’re able to manipulate the images of his memories to provide specific details — the colour of someone’s dress, the time a photo was taken, what was written on a note — that ultimately lead you to the answers you seek. It’s a clever system that works really well without resorting to mystical mumbo-jumbo — it’s just something Erica can do and while it’s clear that part of the plot is going to revolve around her struggling with these visions, for the most part she accepts it as just another tool in her arsenal.

Jensen’s influence is apparent in the characters, all of whom are strongly defined. Erica herself initially appears to be somewhat “flat” personality-wise, but over time it becomes clear that she is, more often than not, being quite deadpan, and when she’s around people she likes and trusts, she opens up and shows her more good-humoured side.

One of the things I’m particularly enamoured with is that I’m getting a slight “Dr. Naomi” vibe from Cognition. It’s not quite the same, of course — Erica is an FBI field agent compared to Naomi’s forensic investigator — but there are certain similarities. Most notably, on a number of occasions you’re “quizzed” by characters on what you’ve learned from your investigations, with progression dependent on you giving the correct answers. The penalty for giving an incorrect answer isn’t as harsh as in Trauma Team — there are relatively few moments in the game where you can die or “fail” — but it’s nice to have a game check that you’re paying attention in a suitable, plausible context.

I’m intrigued to try the subsequent episodes now. I have a feeling that four won’t be enough!

1369: Closing Tales

Finally closing in on the end of my second playthrough of Tales of Xillia, and it’s led to some interesting observations.

First up, Xillia’s handling of New Game Plus is well-implemented, enjoyable and unusual. As you play, you unlock a number of “Titles” by completing various in-game achievements such as using certain abilities a particular number of times, completing various numbers of sidequests and passing various milestones in the story. Depending on the difficulty of (or endurance/patience required for) each of these titles, you’re awarded various amounts of “Grade” points. These are useless until you’ve completed the game once, at which point you can spend them when you start a New Game Plus.

The things you can spend them on vary from carrying across various things like items, levels, money, shop levels and so on, or they can be spent on bonuses such as boosters to experience and money gain. By carefully spending your Grade, you can put together a “package” of bonuses that makes your subsequent playthroughs of the game work the way you want them to.

Personally, I’m playing through with 10x the normal amount of experience, double the normal amount of money gained and carrying over the “Devil’s Arms” special weapons that I acquired through a sidequest in the first playthrough. This made the game quite easy, so I bumped up the difficulty to Hard, and it’s now providing a suitably-paced challenge even though I’ve been well over the recommended levels for most of the game, and will cap out at 99 before taking on the final boss in my second playthrough.

What’s also interesting about Xillia is its two-protagonist structure. For probably about 80% of the time, the game is the same regardless of whether you chose Jude or Milla at the outset of the game, but the points where it splits are interestingly distinct from one another. For those who are yet to play the game but who are planning to, I strongly recommend you play Jude’s storyline first, if only for the fact that a certain event that occurs partway through the story is infinitely more dramatic from Jude’s perspective than it is from Milla’s. I’ll spare you the details in the name of spoiler avoidance, however.

Playing both stories gives you an interesting amount of context and insight into the two characters, though. Jude’s story gives you a good understanding of the overall events of the game, while Milla’s focuses a little more on her as an individual character — thankfully, she’s an interesting character in her own right who is more than worthy of a little specific exploration.

Reviews of Xillia criticised it somewhat for being “clichéd” or “typical JRPG” in its narrative, but this is a lazy descriptor that tends to be levelled at pretty much every JRPG out there — and I’m not even sure how true it is, anyway. Xillia’s cast is unconventional and interesting, consisting as it does of a broad mix of ages from 12 to 62, male and female. The adventure they go on boils down to the usual “do a couple of laps of the world” but the setting is interesting and well-realised, and by the end of it you have a thorough understanding of the setting’s culture, spiritual beliefs and society. It’s a convincing game world that it’s easy to immerse yourself in; it feels like far more than just a backdrop to cutscenes, though I would argue that the areas between the major towns are a bit bland at times.

By far the highlight of the game, though, is the sense of companionship and camaraderie between the party members, emphasised by the optional “skits” that pop up in response to your actions throughout the game. There’s a real sense of these characters being real people, real friends and sometimes rivals, and they’ve been written with a wonderful sense of chemistry between them. It’s one of the most enjoyable RPG casts I’ve had the pleasure of hanging out with for 90 hours or so, and I’ll be sorry to leave them behind; but, of course, at least some of them will be back in the upcoming Tales of Xillia 2, so all is not lost.

Should polish off the rest of Xillia tomorrow, and then I can finally get back to Hyperdimension Neptunia Victory, which I was really enjoying prior to me having to play Xillia for review.

1368: Confessions of a Failed Mayor

I played it for a good few weeks on its original release in the name of understanding what the hell everyone was so excited about, but I have to admit defeat and confess that I didn’t really like Animal Crossing all that much.

I’m not saying it’s bad, per se, more that I just don’t really understand the appeal of it. For sure, it does what social gaming companies like to call “invest and express” gameplay far better than any of the shite churned out by Zynga ever will — and without continually begging the player for money, more to the point — but the trouble is that what Animal Crossing offered just wasn’t enough to hold my attention.

There’s lots to do in Animal Crossing, for sure, and the game drip-feeds you new things happening in your town every few real-time days to keep you coming back. MMO-style special events allow you to compete against your friends at catching bugs or whatever, and the game world expands a little over time — though not by much.

Trouble is, most of the stuff to do in Animal Crossing wasn’t very interesting or enjoyable to me. By my last few days playing, I had settled into a tedious routine of picking fruit, going to the island, catching as many bugs as I could put in the box, selling them all, then paying off part of my loan. I’d then close the game because I’d found the experience so mind-numbing that I didn’t really want to play any more. It was feeling more like a job than a game; I was feeling obliged to earn money just to give to Tom Nook, and it just wasn’t enjoyable. By the time I’d done my daily “chores” I just wanted to turn the game off and do something else — usually go to sleep, since I inevitably put off said chores until last thing in the evening.

This is, of course, arguably the whole point of Animal Crossing. It’s a reflection on modern life and the joyless things we do to get ourselves through the day with enough money to put food on the table. Of course, in Animal Crossing you can’t actually starve to death or be turfed out of your house for being unable to keep up repayments on your mortgage, but the feeling of guilt is there — that feeling that you should be doing something more, that feeling that you should be pursuing your ambitions but instead you’re trapped in a rut barely scraping by unless you make some sacrifices in the name of being more profitable. (In Animal Crossing’s case, the sacrifices I was having to make included “playing games that I found more fun,” which was ultimately not something I was willing to give up.)

Multiplayer, too, was confusing. While it was neat to be able to invite friends over, ultimately all I found myself doing when I visited a friend’s town was admire how their trees and houses were in slightly different places to my own trees and houses, and nod knowingly if they had discovered how to make “paths” using designs printed on the floor. I never knew what I was supposed to do when I was in someone else’s town; there was no structure to it, and no real incentive to actually play together beyond pinching each other’s fruit and planting it, or occasionally doing that hilarious thing you can do with Pitfall Seeds. The only multiplayer stuff I found enjoyable were the structured “tours” on the island, and even those weren’t all that interesting or competitive to me.

I certainly don’t begrudge people their enjoyment of Animal Crossing. I just… don’t get it. And I’m cool with that; time to move on.

Pokémon, on the other hand, that I’m starting to come around to. But that’s a story for another day.

1367: Alpha

Eurogamer published the first of its “alpha and beta reviews” earlier on the subject of Peter Molyneux’s possibly rubbish new God game Godus.

The posting of said review, coupled with the accompanying justification for it (including why it doesn’t carry a score) immediately prompted the usual snark on Twitter. This made me gnash my teeth in frustration.

After the previous paragraph, it will probably not surprise you to learn that I’m actually in favour of Eurogamer doing what it’s doing — and no, not just because I work for their sister site USgamer. No, I actually think this is an important thing, particularly given recent developments in the growing “early access” model of selling games — and the fact that some people apparently aren’t aware of said developments.

You’re probably already familiar with the basic “early access” programme — buy something, often for a cut-down price, and get immediate access to an early version of the game so you can 1) try it out before everyone else does and 2) provide some feedback that can actively help with development. It worked for Minecraft, it worked for Frozen Synapse and there’s plenty of others out there it’s worked for too.

Here’s the strange new development, though: a number of free-to-play games have put themselves in Steam’s Early Access catalogue. Nothing unusual, you might think, until you notice that they’re actually charging for you to play this early version. In effect, you’re paying to be part of a closed alpha/beta test for a game that won’t cost any money to download when it’s finished.

This is weird, no?

Okay, in most cases you’re not just paying for access — in the case of Snow, you get some bonus items and in the case of Magicka: Wizard Wars‘ upper tiers, you get a full copy of Crusader Kings II for considerably less than its full retail price — but it still seems a little odd; I can’t get away from the fact that you’re “buying” a free-to-play game.

And this is why Eurogamer’s idea of specifically reviewing commercially available alpha and beta versions is a sound one. It’s something distinct from a hands-on preview — which is what most of the snark from earlier was comparing it to — because it discusses something that people can actually hand over money for right now, despite the fact it’s not finished. A hands-on preview typically comes from something that not everyone has access to, be it a play with the game at a developer’s office, a behind-closed-doors look at a trade show, or even a report on a demo from a consumer show such as Eurogamer Expo that not everyone would have had the opportunity to attend for whatever reasons; by contrast, an alpha/beta review lets people know whether or not it’s worth spending their hard-earned money on something that may or may not cost a different amount of money when it’s finished being developed — or indeed something that may be completely free when it’s finished.

Being informed is important, particularly when it comes to making a decision about whether or not to spend money on something. I think we’ll start to see more of this sort of thing in the near future, and it’s going to be an important part of how we look at the development process of games in the coming years.

1366: Modern Life

I’m in a bit of a hurry tonight, so apologies if there’s any typos or bits that don’t quite make sense.

I’m in a bit of a hurry because in approximately 15 minutes’ time I’m going to be watching the one TV show on at present that I will actually watch when it’s broadcast — Dave Gorman’s Modern Life is Goodish.

I’m a fan of Dave Gorman’s comedy, and have been ever since I saw his show from a few years back where he travelled around trying to find all the other people called Dave Gorman in the world. He followed this up with Googlewhack Adventure which, besides teaching me what “Googlewhack” meant, was a similarly entertaining experience. And so far Modern Life is Goodish has been just as enjoyable.

Gorman’s comedy is fairly distinctive in that his shows are almost structured like a lecture, complete with Powerpoint presentations, visual aids and all manner of other things. He picks a topic and explains it in detail, taking great pains to provide evidence and proof for the things he’s saying, usually in the form of photographs or diagrams. He often lampoons himself, though, by launching into a detailed quasi-scientific explanation of something utterly ridiculous and pointless, yet treating it as seriously as if it were a lecture on, say, global warming, or Shakespeare’s influence on modern theatre or something.

Modern Life is Goodish has been particularly enjoyable to me as a lot of his observations are in line with things I think about the modern world. It’s always nice to have your own opinions (and irrational prejudices!) validated by someone else, and while I haven’t always found myself agreeing with everything Gorman says — particularly outside the context of his shows, such as on Twitter — I’ve found enough common ground in my limited experience of him to know that he’s someone that I like, and that I enjoy listening to.

The absolute highlight of Modern Life is Goodish, though, is his weekly “found poem” feature, in which he trawls comment sections of news stories from a topic he’s discussed throughout the rest of the show, then arranges them into, well, a found poem. Not only is this an enjoyable feature in its own right, it brings back incredibly fond memories of an English lesson back in secondary school where we were challenged to create our own found poem using only things we could see around the classroom. Our particular effort was an increasingly urgent exhortation to “Graham Coop” (actually someone we knew from a couple of years above us whose work happened to be displayed on the wall) to put out a fire in the classroom. (Pull out pin, Graham Coop!)

I’m not entirely sure why I remember that particular experience from school, but it’s one of those things that’s stuck with me for no apparent reason. Graham Coop wasn’t even a particularly good friend (though I did borrow Terminal Velocity from him at one point) and I haven’t spoken to a lot of those other people from school for a while; regardless, that particular experience has stuck with me, and I’m reminded of it every week when I watch Modern Life is Goodish.

I’ll leave you with a teaser from one of the early episodes. If you’re in the UK, you can find the most recent episodes on Dave’s website.

1365: Your Face

I find myself once again giving serious thought to the closure of my Facebook account. This is not something I should be agonising over as much as I have been, I know, but given that Facebook is such a firmly-entrenched part of modern society, it bears some consideration.

The main thing that’s frustrating me with it at present is the fact that the whole “broadcast and amplification” thing seems to be getting far worse than it’s ever been. My News Feed at present consists almost entirely of people making ill-informed political statements and sharing the latest scaremongering chain letter that they haven’t bothered to fact-check. (Currently? It’s an apparent epidemic of “false widow” spiders in the UK — these spiders do actually exist, but it’s rare that a bite from one will cause anything more than a bit of discomfort, and certainly not require the amputation of a limb in any cases other than those which have suffered the most severe of allergic reactions.)

The point here is that Facebook’s original purpose of communicating and sharing personally meaningful things has all but completely gone out of the window in favour of sharing the latest “inspiring” clickbait from Upworthy (seriously, fuck off, Upworthy, Buzzfeed and all of your fellow content farms), the latest moral panic from Daily Mail-like sources, or the latest “OMG hilarious!!!” video from whatever dark corner of the Internet produces nothing but “OMG hilarious!!!” videos.

The reason I hesitate so much and continually wonder whether cutting the Facebook cord is a good idea is that old chestnut — “it’s the only way I’m still in touch with some people.” Well, to be honest, a lot of those people for whom Facebook is the only means I can still contact them I haven’t actually spoken to for ages, even on Facebook; those people who actually care will probably know how to reach me via other means, or will pay attention if I leave some sort of post with alternative contact information prior to closing down my account. Those people who don’t care? Well, I guess they weren’t that good friends after all.

In cutting the Facebook cord, then, it will doubtless be sad to effectively cut ties to some university and school friends, but it’s also an inescapable truth of life: people go their separate ways following milestones, and sometimes that’s for the best. I won’t deny that there are people I miss, but I’ve been just as lax at staying in touch with a lot of these people as they have been lax towards me. It’s no reflection on either me or them in most cases; it’s simply the fact that our lives have moved on in different directions, and we each have our own different priorities, groups of friends and personal interests.

Typing this out has helped me think a few things over. I’m going to carefully examine my Facebook usage over the next week, and make a decision at the end of the week as to whether or not I’m going to close my account. If I decide to close it — which, right this second, is the decision I am erring towards — I will leave a message up on my profile for a further week with alternative contact information — where people can find me elsewhere on the Internet (primarily Twitter or Google+), or via email — and then close it. At that point, those people who want to get in touch can; those who can’t will be confined to the past, likely never to be heard from again.

Anyway. Apologies for thinking out loud. Perhaps some of you are thinking the same things too, though.

1364: Pokey

I’m mildly bewildered by the fact everyone is losing their shit over the new Pokemon games for 3DS. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t begrudge anyone their excitement and I’m sure they’re very good, I just feel like I’ve never really “got” Pokemon.

This is strange, really, because the Pokemon games are effectively JRPGs which, as longtime readers will know, is my favourite genre of gaming. And yet despite a brief dalliance with Red back in the Game Boy Color days, I’ve felt absolutely no inclination whatsoever to return to the series. I’m sure it’s changed a lot since Red — at least I hope so — but honestly, my fairly underwhelmed experience with the original installment in the series was enough to discourage me from checking it out again in the future.

My main reason for disliking Red back when I tried it was that it felt like a “JRPG for kids”. This isn’t necessarily in and of itself a bad thing, and it’s probably actually a fairly accurate description what with the warning on the box informing players that “basic reading ability is required to enjoy this game”. However, what this translated to for me was something that played like a JRPG, but which didn’t really include many of the things about that genre of gaming that I liked.

Pokemon Red came out in the UK in 1999. I’d discovered JRPGs with Final Fantasy VII back in 1997, and it felt like a big step backwards. Obviously I’m aware that this isn’t a particularly fair comparison, what with FFVII being on a CD-ROM based 32-bit machine and Red being on a cartridge-based 8-bit handheld. But even so, limited technical capabilities doesn’t prevent you from doing good things with writing and characterisation, and Red just didn’t offer that to me. I didn’t care about what was happening in the world, I couldn’t put myself in the shoes of the mute, personality-free protagonist and there were very few relatable characters scattered around the world. It felt like a game about the grind, and about collecting endless reams of things that you’d never use, rather than the kind of JRPG that I definitely do like: games where there’s a cool story to follow and, oh, by the way, here’s a bajillion other things to do in this world with these characters you like.

I don’t know if the Pokemon series has changed since then, because I’ve never felt inclined to try another one after that. As I say above, I’d hope it has — surely the long-running anime has shown that people are hungry for some actual characters and story in among the monster-training gameplay — but I remain unconvinced at present. I am almost — almost — curious enough to pick up a copy for myself and see why everyone seems so excited about this latest version, but not enough to spend £35 on a new copy. After growing tired of Animal Crossing a lot more quickly than some other people I know, I’m hesitant to jump aboard another Nintendo hype train.

If, on the other hand, someone wanted to send me a copy so I could educate myself, I would certainly do my best to try and understand the new games’ appeal. (Worth a try.)

1363: Near Miss

Whew. Made it. Nearly went to sleep without writing something. Doing so wouldn’t really matter, of course, but it’s a matter of personal pride by this point. It has been 1,363 days of daily posts (of wildly varying quality) after all.

So now here I am at 1am trying to think of something to write and, in my tired-out state, struggling. So I’ll just do some sort of babbling on about what’s going on this weekend and hope that’s vaguely interesting to at least one person out there somewhere.

Actually, pretty much nothing’s going on this weekend. We went out to town earlier, mainly for me to go and look for a course book for my Japanese evening class, but Waterstones failed me so I’m going to have to turn to the Internet, as ever. I don’t know why I’m surprised.

Then tomorrow we are taking Lucy the rat to the vet. You may recall a while back that Lara the rat wasn’t very well and I was worried about her — thankfully she seems to have made a full recovery thanks to some medicine we were given for her, so that’s good. Lucy, on the other hand, has suffered with a snuffly nose for quite some time and it seems to have gotten a little worse recently, so we’re going to go get her checked out just to see if there’s anything we can do. Said snuffly nose doesn’t actually seem to bother her all that much, since she’s still as energetic and mischievous as ever — she’s very much “the childish one” compared to the older, lazier Lara — and so I’m not too worried; I just hope it’s not been causing her too much discomfort.

That’s about it, really. Andie and I played both Flash Point and Guildhall earlier, both of which are board/card game acquisitions from our trip to Canada a while back. I contemplated teaching Andie the full rules for Agricola, but by the time that was a possibility it was already getting late and my brain wasn’t up to the task of medieval German farming, so that’s something to save for another day.

Played a bit more Beyond earlier, too. Still very impressed with the whole thing and intrigued to see where it goes. I have a lot more patience for David Cage letting loose than most other people, it seems, but it’s been nice to talk to a few people who have also been enjoying it and don’t feel the need to ridicule and mock Cage at every opportunity.

That’s definitely it now. I’m going to bed because I should have been asleep half an hour ago, so now I’m going to go and do that. Yeah.