1738: Aces High

After I beat Ace Combat 4 a few days ago — spectacular, incidentally; a game that still holds up marvellously well today, even on a big-screen HDTV — I moved pretty much straight on to its sequel Ace Combat 5, or Ace Combat: Squadron Leader as it is inexplicably known over here in Europe.

While superficially similar, Ace Combat 5 is definitely a more refined package on more fronts, though both games remain well worth playing in their own right.

To clarify: Ace Combat 4 had an interesting, unconventionally told narrative and gameplay that, more often than not, boiled down to “score [x] number of points before time expires”, with the odd break for “destroy all the marked targets before time expires”. This is a huge simplification, of course, because it was the context in which these missions took place that made Ace Combat 4 interesting rather than the actual mission objectives themselves.

Ace Combat 5 mixes things up a bit by having a wider variety of mission objectives. 17 missions in, and I’ve only just had a “score [x] number of points before time expires” mission; prior to that, I’ve had everything from “capital ship” battles against submarines to air support missions flying cover for an aircraft carrier escaping a besieged city, and one particularly memorable (if challenging) mission where you had to locate a downed member of your squadron, then support the rescue helicopter as it came in to pick her up.

Ace Combat 5 also tells its story in a different manner to its predecessor. While Ace Combat 4 framed its narrative as a letter written from someone who knew the primary antagonist to you, the player, Ace Combat 5 tells a more “present-day” tale about the jet fighter squadron which you’re a member of. Like Ace Combat 4, you gradually become known as a legendary pilot that enemy forces speak of in hushed tones, but there’s a lot more humbleness and humility about it this time around; there’s a strong emphasis on questioning the actions you’re being asked to take in the war, and whether what you’re doing is really justified. It makes for some compelling drama both during and between missions, and it’s a big part of what makes the game so interesting.

Flying and fighting is an absolute joy, though, and that’s what really matters here. Each plane feels noticeably different from the others — though all kind of throw realism out of the window in the name of fun — and all have their own strengths and weaknesses. The different weapons you’ll be flinging around all have their own little quirks and idiosyncrasies, too, and it’s interesting to gradually learn which plane (and attached special weapon) is most appropriate for which situation. Plus there’s a fun little “levelling” system whereby scoring enough kills with a particular type of plane unlocks better variants in that family tree — you can gradually upgrade from the F-15C Eagle to the F-15E Strike Eagle, for example, and you can do this for an impressively wide selection of real-life planes.

I’m impressed quite how good the game looks, too. It features native 16:9 support, for one thing — something you couldn’t rely on in the PS2 era, even with widescreen televisions becoming more widespread — but its visuals lack that muddiness that many PS2 titles often have when viewed on an HDTV. It’s not pin-sharp, no, but it looks good — and my goodness, does it ever move smoothly, maintaining a solid 60fps at all times, even when all manner of scary shit is going on around you.

I think it’s safe to say that I’m pretty smitten with this series. And, as I think I’ve said previously, I’m sorry I didn’t have the opportunity to try it out when it first came along.

1737: Some Days You Just Can’t Get Rid of a Bomb

I had the worst morning today. I say worst; at the time it was happening, it was already apparent to me that the unfortunate combination of mishaps that befell me were the stuff of farce, and looking back now it’s just faintly amusing. But at the time it was spectacularly irritating, and put me in a rather grouchy mood for much of the day.

Things started badly when I woke up at the ungodly hour I need to wake up to go to work and I had a horrible pain in my back that made it difficult to bend over (to put my socks on, pervert) or indeed to operate in a normal manner. After downing a couple of painkillers, the pain subsided a bit, so after a quick breakfast I took to the road, carefully avoiding the bin lorry that had decided the time I was leaving the house was the optimum time to park almost across our driveway.

Five minutes down the road — thankfully no further — I realised that I’d left my work ID badge at home, and I need that to get in and out of the building. Now, I know full well that a little grovelling at the security office would have probably secured me a temporary visitor’s badge to use for the day, but I’m still in that phase where I want to be seen to be doing things “right”, and so back I went to pick up my badge (the lanyard for which also had the key to my desk drawers on it, plus a nice pen). By the time I got out the door again, it was getting on for half an hour later than I’d normally leave for work, and I just knew that this meant I was probably going to hit the pointless, meaningless, seemingly causeless traffic jams that are on the motorway every single day of the working week.

Sure enough, the dear old M27 didn’t disappoint. Much of my journey was capped at about 40mph, often dipping below that, and I wasn’t able to get up any sort of decent speed until the stretch of the motorway where I was almost at work. Time was ticking on by now, however; fortunately, I have fairly flexible hours, so the concept of being “late” is a little more fluid than in many other places, but I was still rather later than I intended to be.

I pulled up at the lorry park where I typically park my car at the start of each working day and prepared to hand over my cash for the week’s parking — though I had noticed several huge containers blocking the small patch of concrete out the front where cars arriving a little later were typically shepherded. I had a sinking feeling.

“We’re full, buddy,” said Lorry Park Man — yes, there are people who really do say “buddy” out loud — and I knew there was no point arguing. Those who pay for weekly tickets were typically given priority over those paying on a daily basis, but I could see from a cursory glance around that there really wasn’t any room to put any more cars — not without putting them at risk from the lorries that the park was actually built for, anyway. I nodded, and Lorry Park Man shrugged apologetically at me, so it was time to go on a small adventure to find somewhere to park.

I eventually found somewhere about a mile up the road from where I work — the lorry park is already about 15 minutes walk, and this was quite a way further — but there was nothing for it; my only other option was to park right in the town centre and have an even longer walk to contend with. No thank you.

I eventually made it to work — still before 9am, pleasingly — and tried to get in my usual door with my ID card. The door was, of course, broken, and I wasn’t even surprised by this by this point, so I simply wandered down to the next one along and went in. Then I sat down at my desk, turned on my computer, fired up Outlook to check my email and was helpfully informed that the server was not responding.

The perfect start to a perfect day, I’m sure you’ll agree.

Thankfully things picked up a little from that point onwards — though I did nearly forget to retrieve my desk keys and had to come back and get them — but man. That was one hell of a lot of bad luck in one go. Hopefully that’ll be it for a little while now; let’s have the rest of the week go a little more smoothly, hmm?

1736: Traffic Report

It is traffic that drives the modern Web, whether we’re talking about a commercial site or a personal social media page, but I’m gradually coming to regard the relentless pursuit of this easily measurable but sometimes quite misleading metric as something I’m keen to step as far away from as possible.

Why? Because the behaviour of the Internet hivemind — they who create the traffic — is predictable. Write something interesting and compelling — but, crucially, not controversial — that you’ve poured blood, sweat and tears into and came away from feeling yes, this is one of the best things I’ve ever written, and you’ll inevitably barely register a blip on the graphs. On the flip side, write something controversial or angry — preferably with plenty of finger-pointing — and you’ll get hundreds, thousands of hits. But are they the kind of people you want to be attracting to what you’re writing?

In the case of a commercial site, it doesn’t actually matter all that much; in the case of the biggest sites like IGN, the comments section moves so quickly with all the commenters’ vapid nonsense that there’s no time for anyone to be able to fixate on the actual people who have been reading it in most cases — unless, of course, it becomes clear that the community at large has an opinion contrary to that of the writer, in which case it usually degenerates into a battle of snark via Twitter within hours of publication. But even on smaller sites, comments sections are easily ignored; ultimately, it is those traffic figures that are totted up at the end of each week to determine how “well” things are going — the theory runs that if you lure people in with more “clickbaity” stuff, they will hopefully enjoy it and stick around to click through to some other, less controversial but much better pieces. It doesn’t necessarily work like that, sadly: bounce rates are high, and tricky to “fix”, particularly if you contemplate how your own personal browsing habits tend to go.

In the case of a personal site like this one, however, it very much does matter who you’re attracting to read the things you’ve written. I have a small group of semi-regular to regular commenters on this site, all of whom I’ve gotten to know and come to regard as friends. When someone new shows up, their first comment is important; it determines whether or not I actually want to engage with them, or whether I never want to speak to them ever again. It’s nice when the former happens; when the latter happens, however — something which is seemingly exponentially more likely on a high-traffic day — it can be anything from mildly annoying to actually quite scary, particularly for someone with anxiety issues around certain social situations.

It’s for this reason that I’ve come to dread the WordPress notification that reads “Your stats are booming!” because it means that, for whatever reason, lots of people have come to my site and are doubtless just itching to leave a comment on something and tell me how much I’m wrong. (The side effect of the aforementioned anxiety is that one negative comment counts for about 20 positive comments, making it very hard to get a nice, calming balance, and making me very anxious and nervous about the possibility of arguments, even over the smallest of things.) Today was one of those days: something I wrote a little while back — something which I stand by, but am also keen to put behind me now my life is moving forwards — got linked a whole lot. Judging by my stat reports, it seems it was linked from Twitter, Reddit and a few other places and, at the time of writing, has produced my “best” traffic day for a very long time.

I can’t say I’m particularly happy about that, though, because all it means is that I’ve written something contentious that I anticipate those who agree will stay quite and maybe give a Like, while those who disagree will jump in the comments and yell at me. (The comments on the aforementioned piece are now closed, so this makes prospective yellers’ lives at least a little bit more difficult, which is something.)

Since ditching the hustle and bustle of social media, with its constant pursuit of validation through Likes and Comments, I’ve become much more content to simply continue along on my way without interference from wider society. And while you may point your finger at me and say that I’m just trying to live in a bubble or an echo chamber, to that I simply say so what? We don’t need to open everything we say and do up to public scrutiny, and just because you publish something online for family and friends to read doesn’t mean that you particualrly want it shared with the wider world.

It’s a fact of life, however, that with this modern, connected world, if you publish anything online, whatever it is, you open yourself up to it being shared more widely, possibly well outside of your own safe place, and consequently run the risk of attracting… undesirables, shall we say. And that sort of thing is starting to make me increasingly uncomfortable — particularly after I’ve been the victim of an organised Twitter harassment campaign in the past; something I’m really not keen to repeat in any shape or form through any online medium.

Oh, don’t worry, this blog isn’t going anywhere; personally speaking, it’s been a valuable outlet and almost a form of “therapy” for me over the course of the last four and a bit years, so I can’t seem myself giving it up any time soon. I would, however, ask anyone reading any post on this site and contemplating sharing it or leaving a comment to take a step back for a moment and think about the person behind the words: a 33-year old dude who is just now finally starting to get his life moving in a vaguely normal direction after numerous years of upheaval, disappointment, upset, anger and chaos; a 33-year old dude who, after 4+ years of working “on the Internet” is now keen to have a bit of a quiet life. I’m not saying don’t share; I’m not saying don’t comment; I’m not sure what I am saying, really, if I’m perfectly honest: just please take what I’ve said above into account. That’s all I ask.

1735: Thal’s Balls

Been watching some of the live online coverage of FanFest today — that’s the Final Fantasy XIV Fan Festival, if you’re unfamiliar.

The concept of a whole, large-scale event dedicated to a single video game may seem like an alien concept to some of you, particularly if you’re more accustomed to events like E3 and EGX where hundreds upon hundreds of games are all vying for the press and public’s respective attention. But with something like Final Fantasy XIV — which boasts somewhere in the region of 2.5 million players — it’s understandable, particularly as the game is entering an exciting period.

This coming week or the next will see the release of the game’s 2.4 patch Dreams of Ice, which is likely going to be the penultimate episode of the Final Fantasy XIV base game. We’ve already started seeing teasers for what the grand finale of the 2.X storyline will be, and doubtless Dreams of Ice will continue in that direction, taking in a spectacular-looking confrontation with Shiva along the way. Patch 2.5, which should follow along in about three months or so, looks set to provide a suitably epic conclusion to this story, and set things up nicely for the expansion Heavensward, which is coming in Spring 2015.

Aside from continuing the main storyline, Dreams of Ice will also wrap up the narrative surrounding the super-challenging endgame dungeons The Binding Coil of Bahamut, The Second Coil of Bahamut and, soon, The Final Coil of Bahamut. Those with the raiding chops to take on the challenges within will be rewarded with the truth behind the Calamity that befell Eorzea five years ago — and what’s really going on with Bahamut. Is he going to wake up again and lay waste to the land, or…?

One of the interesting things about FanFest has been the panels, which have been broadcast live via Twitch, giving me my first reason ever to actually go to Twitch and watch something. And there have been some fascinating discussions, too; there was a great panel on the game’s music earlier, and shortly before the time of writing there was a superb lore panel based around how the game’s world is “written” and “built” — something that is a real strength of the game. Unusually for a largely Japanese game, much of the lore is contributed and composed by a Westerner (albeit one who grew up in Japan), and as such Final Fantasy XIV finds itself in a strong position to appeal to both Western and Eastern players. Its English localisation was so strong, in fact, runs the narrative, that Japanese players started to demand the same attention to detail, sense of humour and wit that runs through the English script, ultimately making all versions of the game into a superior experience. It was a heartwarming tale.

Mostly what FanFest has driven home is that Final Fantasy XIV is a truly global game, and that while it will likely never reach the same dizzy heights of World of Warcraft in its prime, it’s in a very healthy position indeed — and that exciting times are ahead for those who make their second home in Eorzea. I’m looking forward to seeing what the future holds in the long term — but in the short term, there’s this, at least:

1734: Working Week

I am glad to reach the end of this week — it’s been a long one, largely because of that overnighter I had to pull in the middle; an inconvenience which even having the whole day off yesterday hasn’t quite allowed me to recover completely from. I’m not as young as I once was, I guess.

While I shan’t talk about the job itself — it is generally inadvisable to talk too much about one’s current employer if one wishes to stay employed — I did want to just contemplate how this new chapter in my life is going so far. After all, there’s a significant number of changes here, and while many of my friends and peers have been living this sort of existence for years now — in many cases since the end of university — being in the position of having a “normal” job is still something that is relatively new to me.

I’m enjoying the experience, though. Sure, there are quiet and boring moments, but there’s also a feeling that I’m doing something vaguely useful, and more than that, it’s nice to be around actual real people, even if they’re all busy doing their own things for most of the day.

That, I think, is the thing I missed the most. As something of a self-professed recluse at the best of times, a year or two back I never would have thought that I’d be craving human contact, but towards the end of my time working from home, I was really starting to go just that little bit crazy without having other people around. Sure, I could walk to the shop, but interactions there are fleeting at best, and those who try to strike up conversations with strangers in convenience stores are generally regarded as being somewhat on the fringes of polite society. (Not that my own social anxiety would ever permit me to strike up a conversation with a stranger in a convenience store, anyway; the thought of it is mortifying.)

At work, though, it’s been a pleasure to slot in as part of an existing team. It feels like some people are still coming to realise that I exist, while others have accepted me immediately. I’m particularly grateful for the fact that my immediate team of peers are all extremely nice people that I enjoy spending time with; while our job certainly isn’t miserable or horrendously difficult or anything like that, we form the sort of group that can share both positive and negative experiences together and feel like we have a “bond” of sorts; a sense of camaraderie.

This is, as previously noted, somewhat different to anything I’ve experienced before. In teaching, things varied from being cliquey to “us vs. them”; in retail, there was a sharp divide between the floor staff and management; in the online press, I rarely saw the people I worked with face to face. Here, I see the people I work with — at least those on my immediate team, anyway — every day, and as part of a large company we’re just one part of a whole. It’s an interesting experience, and one that I’m gradually getting used to as the weeks tick by.

I’m pretty sure that I made the right choice to get here. In some respects I’m wishing I’d made it a little sooner.

1733: Bumper Crop

It’s one of those times of year that there’s seemingly hundreds (well, all right, that’s an exaggeration) of great new games coming out, and relatively little time in which to play them all. That’s not stopping me picking up the ones I’m interested in, mind, as I feel it’s important to show your support to companies that are doing the right thing and releasing (or, in the case of most of the games I’m particularly interested in, localising) titles that other publishers might see as risky or too niche-interest to take a gamble on. (In actual fact, it’s clearly not all that much of a gamble at all; if it were, I’m sure companies like NIS America, Xseed and Aksys, who bring these games from Japan to the West at an impressive rate, would have folded long ago.)

Just off the top of my head, games that have been recently released (or that are imminent) and that I am either in the process of playing or am interested in playing soon-ish include Hyperdimension Neptunia Re;Birth1, Ar no Surge, Akiba’s Trip, Freedom Wars, Danganronpa 2, Senran Kagura Shinovi Versus, Tears to Tiara 2 and doubtless several others I’ve forgotten. And this isn’t even getting into the stuff that I’ve previously acquired and haven’t touched yet, which includes stuff like Drakengard 3, Monster Monpiece and the numerous non-Rorona games in the Atelier series. Nor does it cover the Pile of Shame I have that extends back to the PS2 era — largely acquired through spotting bargains and through taking full advantage of UK video game retailer Game’s misfortunes when it was struggling a while back.

I don’t mind though; I’m building up a library of things to enjoy that will last for literally years at this rate, since a significant number of these titles are fairly lengthy affairs, many of which also reward multiple playthroughs. It’s because of this huge stack of games that I don’t feel at all bad about not having jumped on board the “next-gen” (PS4 and Xbox One) bandwagon as yet, since 1) there’s nothing yet been released on either that I’m personally interested in playing (though a new Neptunia game is on the way to PS4, which will more than likely tip me over the edge) and 2) I like to finish my games — even if it takes a while.

I was talking about this latter point with a few people recently; the figures for people who actually beat games — now a lot easier to track in the age of achievements, which are essentially nothing more than metrics, after all — are depressingly low, and indeed, outside of very short games regarded as “must-play” experiences by popular opinion (things like Gone Home, The Stanley Parable and their ilk) it is, anecdotally speaking, quite rare for me to hear someone else talking about beating a game and what they thought of the ending. That doesn’t mean people don’t do it, of course, but with the pace of new releases these days I kind of feel like it’s probably getting rarer as people feel pressured to play the latest and greatest thing simply to keep up with their peers.

I prefer a more leisurely pace, myself; it may take me weeks or months to plough through a lengthy RPG, but I enjoy myself a lot more in the process. Since the only multiplayer title I play is Final Fantasy XIV, which is a “constant” rather than something more seasonal like the latest first-person shooter release, I don’t feel the pressure to be playing The Next Big Thing the moment it’s released — and no longer being a member of the games press means that I don’t have the responsibility to do so professionally either.

Consequently, I intend to spend the next few months playing the Ace Combat series — which I am now absolutely smitten with, incidentally — along with Hyperdimension Neptunia Re;Birth1 and, as ever, Final Fantasy XIV. After that, who knows? I might move onto something new; I might decide it’s time to tackle some of the older games in my collection. I have that freedom to do so, and it’s nice.

1732: The Overnighter

Just got back from an incredibly long day at work — effectively two days at work for the price of one, thanks to some overnight working as well as my normal shift. Consequently, I’m utterly knackered, so you’ll forgive any incoherence and/or typos, I hope. (I do get tomorrow off, at least; I intend to do a lot of sleeping after I have finished typing this.)

I don’t mind pulling late/all-nighters generally, because it allows me to indulge in one of my stranger pleasures: being in places that are normally full of people when they are deserted.

It’s something that’s always fascinated me, ever since I was a youngling and often got the opportunity to stay late at school to do various music activities. School concert night was always a particular highlight; not only did I tend to enjoy the concert itself, but there was something… I don’t know, almost romantic about the atmosphere around the school campus when it was all but deserted aside from a few people.

In fact, I’ve always enjoyed the night generally. When out walking in the darkness, there’s always the slight lingering fear that behind the next bush might be a knife-wielding maniac, of course, but for the most part I love the atmosphere of night-time: the peace and quiet; the way the air feels somehow different — probably because it’s not being churned up and polluted by hundreds of cars; the way everything feels like it’s going slightly faster than normal; the way bad weather, particularly snow, makes you feel like the place you’re in is a private little world.

It’s the peace and quiet part that gets me the most, I think, because it allows you to really drink in what is going on around you. You can listen to your footsteps as you walk; listen to your breathing; hear the birds start to sing to signal the beginning of the “morning” process (at least if you stay up as late as I have tonight); try to work out what the noises in the distance might be. Any sound near you feels almost infinitely louder, and hearing someone talking always feels like you’re intruding on a private moment. (Perhaps you are.)

It’s the contrast, too; I love comparing how a deserted place in the dead of night compares to how I know it is in the daytime. By day, it might be bustling hub of activity, with the constant noise of human interaction all around at all times. By night, it might be totally silent; you might be the only person there. There’s a sense of being in the unknown; of being somewhere “forbidden”, even if you have every right to be wherever you are.

In fact, were it possible to live one’s life in a more nocturnal manner, I think I’d happily do so. Judging by my drive back from work tonight, it would certainly save on traffic frustrations, if nothing else!

1731: The Age of Loneliness

I read an interesting piece on The Guardian earlier regarding “the age of loneliness” killing us bit by bit. And while I feel the piece is, on the whole, doomsaying somewhat, there’s also a lot of truth in there.

I’ve become a lot more conscious of all this since starting my “new life” a little while ago — working a “proper job” with three-dimensional people all around me, ditching most of social media for my own sanity and generally trying to “unplug” a little bit from my utter dependence on the digital realm.

The biggest change has been the opportunity to interact with real people on a daily basis. Sometimes those people are asking me to do things as part of my job, but at other times it’s a simple social interaction where we share things with one another: the problems we had with a retailer; what we had for dinner last night; our pets having various illnesses; what we think of this weather we’ve been having, gosh, it’s been really variable, hasn’t it?

I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed this, but being fully immersed in the digital realm for several years had proven an adequate substitute for human interaction at the time. It wasn’t until towards the end of my time with USgamer that I was starting to feel a little dissatisfied with spending all day every day “on my own” (despite hundreds, possibly thousands of people being on the other end of an email or tweet) and, once I was made redundant, it truly dawned on me that I was indeed living through my own personal “age of loneliness”.

It’s often been said that social media ironically contributes to feelings of loneliness and isolation, and it’s a difficult one to win. Without social media, it can be difficult to feel connected to other people — though there are alternative, more focused solutions for communication that rely less on shouting into the ether and more on more direct interactions. But with social media, despite all these connections to other people, it’s equally easy to feel isolated, too; the constant races for oneupmanship on Facebook and Twitter — the race to be the first to post a pithy comment in response to a tragedy; the race to post the coolest photo of an event; the race to get the most Likes and comments on a passive-aggressive statement — all detract from meaningful social interaction, instead turning communication into a competition. That doesn’t feel especially healthy to me.

Like I say, though, it’s difficult to find that balance. At present, I feel like I’m having a reasonable time of it — I get along well with the people I work with during the day; I spend time with Andie in the evening and, on certain occasions such as tonight, get to spend time with friends — but I do often still find myself wondering if I’m “missing out” on anything by not checking in on Facebook or Twitter. (I actually closed the latter account altogether after the post the other day, which got shared more widely than I intended and consequently attracted ire I didn’t really want to deal with at the time; I haven’t felt the need to reopen it yet, and should I ever decide to return to Twitter I think it will be with a brand new “fresh start” account)

I am not, however, missing that urge to take a photograph of everything that happens in my day and then post it online as if anyone would give a shit about what the sunset looks like from where I’m standing right now (probably quite similar to the sunset from where you’re standing right now) or what my lunch looks like (pretty much like lunch). I find myself longing for the days when things like photographs were more permanent and more meaningful; everything in the digital age feels so utterly disposable, and that’s probably where a lot of the whole loneliness thing stems from: you can be the centre of attention one minute and utterly forgotten about the next. The modern world is fickle indeed.

Anyway. It’s 1am and I’m doing that thing where I ramble only vaguely coherently as I try not to fall asleep in front of my screen. So I think it’s probably time to go and get some sleep; I have a very long day ahead of me tomorrow, so plenty of rest beforehand would probably be a good idea!

1730: Distant Thunder

I’ve been playing a bunch of Ace Combat 4 (known variously as Shattered Skies or Distant Thunder depending on where in the world you are) and, frankly, I’m gobsmacked.

This is a game that came out in 2001 for the PlayStation 2, sporting visuals that are still reasonably impressive (albeit low-resolution) today, and which run at an absolutely rock-solid 60 frames per second without breaking a sweat.

More importantly, though, it’s a game that manages to be utterly compelling, addictive and thrilling while treating the player with respect and, at the same time, telling an interesting story in a rather unusual manner.

Given what I’ve experienced of Ace Combat 4 to date, it’s easy to see why Ace Combat veterans were a little miffed at Assault Horizon — though I maintain that was an enjoyable enough game in its own right.

Ace Combat 4 is a lot more distinctive than Assault Horizon, though. While the newer game is clad in that unmistakeable “triple-A veneer” that makes a lot of modern games look gorgeous but lack a clearly defined visual identity compared to their contemporaries, Ace Combat 4 is immediately recognisable (although some may argue its interface takes more than a few cues from Metal Gear Solid).

At heart, it’s a solid jet fighter sim that throws the odd bit of realism out of the window in the name of fun. Your plane carries an implausibly huge stock of missiles, for example, which is useful, because you’ll find yourself shooting down an awful lot of planes and blowing up an awful lot of ground targets in each mission. You can’t just fire them off willy-nilly, however — well, maybe you can at ground targets — since enemies will dodge and evade missiles, just like you can. To get a solid lock, you need to manoeuvre carefully behind an enemy and keep them in your sites as you fire off the missiles — and, unlike Assault Horizon with its Dogfight Mode, you have to do this manually rather than pressing a button to do so. It’s a lot more challenging, but also a lot more satisfying, too.

The missions are far less scripted than Assault Horizon, too — though that’s not to say they don’t have interesting things going on. Throughout the first part of the game, you’re often under threat from the enemy forces’ superweapon Stonehenge, for example, and when you’re warned it’s about to fire you’d better make sure you’re hugging the ground if you don’t want to be blown to smithereens. In one particularly memorable mission, you have to fly back to your base while Stonehenge is firing at you, and the only means of getting low enough to stay under its devastating blasts is to fly through a rather perilous canyon.

I’m impressed with the storytelling, too. The game runs two parallel storylines throughout its campaign — one presented in a rather faceless manner to the player, a la many flight and space sims over the years, and another much more personal tale from the perspective of a child living in an occupied city. As you progress through the campaign, the effects of your victories are mirrored in this parallel storyline, until in its later stages you’re referred to more explicitly, particularly after the mission where you shoot down the primary sort-of-antagonist-but-not-really’s wingman. I haven’t yet finished the game, but the smart money is on an epic final confrontation between Mobius One (me) and Yellow Thirteen before the credits roll.

I’ve been having an absolute blast so far, then. I don’t think I’m far off the end of the game, and I’m looking forward to seeing what its sequels have in store.

Now why didn’t I discover this series thirteen years ago?

1729: Twintania’s Revenge

I cleared Turn 5 of The Binding Coil of Bahamut in Final Fantasy XIV once again this evening, adding another member to the roster of our group of (hopefully) regular raiders.

This time around, I decided that I was going to try and tank it. Although I have a level 50, well-geared Paladin class that I’m pretty confident in using for straightforward stuff like dungeons, complicated 8-player fights like Turn 5 have been something I’ve generally shied away from to date, unless I could rustle up a group of people I know and trust — and whom I don’t think will yell at me if I make mistakes.

I decided I wanted to give it a go this evening, however, if only to be able to help out other prospective Twintania-downers with more than one possible role in the future. And so I stepped up.

For those unfamiliar with Final Fantasy XIV or MMOs in general, a couple of definitions are probably in order. Tanking is the role in a party that maintains the attention (“aggro” or “enmity”) of an enemy and takes the brunt of the damage while the rest of the group either stick them with the pointy end (melee DPS), throw pointy or flamey things at them (ranged DPS) or heal people as necessary. In 8-player battles such as Turn 5, you generally have a “main tank” (or MT) that maintains aggro on the boss for the majority of the time, and an “off tank” (or OT) that either has a different role to perform in the fight (as in the case of Turn 5) or alternates tanking the main baddie with the MT (a process called, unsurprisingly, “tank-swapping”).

Being an off tank doesn’t necessarily mean you have an easy job, though. In Turn 5, the off tank’s job is actually probably harder than the main tank’s, so I volunteered for the main tank role, while our other Paladin, who had previously main tanked Turn 5 on our previous clears, stepped into the off tank role to get some experience there.

The battle began. Jovayne, our off tank, started the fight, pulling Twintania and her three Scourge of Meracydia enemies to him and getting their attention. I then ran in behind him, used my Provoke ability on Twintania, then pulled her away from the main pack, as is the main tank’s job in this fight.

It’s at about this point you realise quite what a different affair tanking is to almost any other job on the battlefield. While if you’re playing something like Black Mage or Bard, you’re probably flinging things at the back of your foe, as a tank they are right in your face — and when it’s something as giant and threatening as Twintania, the experience is genuinely intimidating, particularly as you see your hit points fluctuating by frankly terrifying amounts with each hit you take, though.

You have to trust in the people with you, though; unlike a single-player game, you can’t do everything yourself in an MMO, and learning how to trust others is an important part of learning to play well. I’d take a lot of damage from Twintania’s powerful attacks, but I knew that the healers would be there to keep me safe. I’d make their job easier by making use of my defensive abilities, which reduced some of the incoming damage, but ultimately my life was in their hands.

The rest of the fight progressed slowly as, on the whole, the party was fairly inexperienced compared to the last time we cleared it. We did make steady progress, though, with the notorious “Divebombs” phase, during which Twintania swoops across the battlefield, dealing heavy damage and an enormous knockback to anyone she hits, proving most troublesome, as ever.

Mistakes were made by all — particularly me, since I was playing a role that is still relatively unfamiliar — but eventually we made it through together. When we successfully passed the second most difficult phase of the fight (known as “Twisters”, after the instant-death ability Twintania uses in this phase) and were into the home straight, it was a real, genuine, heart-in-mouth moment: just a video game, perhaps, but the feeling of genuine excitement of knowing that you are (probably) going to overcome one of that game’s toughest challenges is absolutely magical.

I was really happy after we finished, since successfully tanking it felt like a significant milestone in my development as a player. I’ve talked before about how I feel like I’m actually quite good at this game, in contrast to a lot of other things I play, and broadening my virtual skill set in this way is very satisfying and enjoyable indeed. Plus it makes me feel like I’m growing in confidence — not just as a player, but personally speaking, too. That’s pretty awesome, no?