1757: Crimson Girls

After a while off, I’ve been revisiting Senran Kagura Burst on the 3DS. I played through the Hanzou storyline to refresh my memory, and I’m currently just starting the third chapter of the Hebijou side. And I’m reminded of just how excellent this game genuinely is.

The Hanzou side of the story, which focused on the life and times of a group of female classmates in the Hanzou academy for “good” ninjas, was a lot of enjoyable fun, helping to make the already visually distinctive characters into interesting individuals that the player would want to find out more about. There’s the leader of the group Asuka, who gradually grows in confidence and assertiveness as the story progresses; class rep Ikaruga, who is initially portrayed as the more “motherly”, sensible figure of the group, but gradually steps aside as Asuka grows in strength; Katsuragi, who is very much the “older sister” of the group — and a character unabashedly comfortable with both her own body and her seemingly somewhat fluid sexuality; Hibari, who is immature and filled with self-doubt until she goes on a significant personal journey — an important part of the overall plot; and Yagyuu, whose quiet, understated love for Hibari is extremely touching to see.

Over the course of the Hanzou story, the girls encounter the girls of the Hebijou “evil” school for ninjas on several occasions, culminating in a final conflict against them at the conclusion of the story. Initially set up to be complete antagonists for one another, the final chapters of the Hanzou storyline take steps to humanise the Hebijou, showing both the player and the Hanzou girls that despite being on “opposite” sides, it’s possible to find common ground and be friends.

This theme is explored in greater detail in Hebijou’s own story. A key concept when considering Hebijou is the idea that the concept of “good” is selective and has stringent criteria to be accepted, while the darkness of “evil” will accept anyone. Consequently, a significant part of the Hebijou story that I’ve played so far centres around a disparate group of girls from wildly different backgrounds — most of whom have some sort of difficulty or tragedy in their past that they’re trying to escape — coming together and finding this common ground; this reason to work together, even though they’re “evil”.

In fact, throughout the Hebijou storyline, it’s easy to forget that these girls are supposed to be “evil” at all, and that’s entirely the point the game as a whole is making: regardless of what “side” you’re on, it’s important to surround yourself with people that you trust and love. People that are true friends; people that can help you through your problems; people that, in some cases, know you better than you know yourself.

Hebijou’s cast are an interesting bunch — perhaps even more so than the Hanzou girls. Leader-type Homura — a rough analogue to Hanzou’s Asuka — is a girl of relatively few words who is good at being serious but tends to try way too hard when attempting to be “fun”. Hikage, meanwhile, is a mysterious young woman who claims to have no emotions — so, as you might expect, cue plenty of scenes with the other girls trying to make her feel things. Mirai, on the other hand, is a young, painfully insecure girl who believes herself to be inferior both physically and in terms of ability to her peers. Next is Yomi, who uses the mannerisms of a privileged rich girl, but actually grew up in poverty, tends to have little to no money even now and who refuses all but the most very basic of charity. And finally Haruka, who is one of the most overtly sexual characters I think I’ve come across in any game in recent memory, aptly demonstrates that being “sexy” doesn’t necessarily mean you have to sacrifice the elements of your personality that make you into a normal human being. You can embrace your sexuality and your own particular tastes without letting them define you, in other words.

I’ve been really enjoying the Hebijou story so far and I’m looking forward to seeing how it develops. Rather than simply presenting the events of the Hanzou side from an alternative perspective, it’s an enjoyably distinct story in its own right, and, like its Hanzou counterpart, gives us an enormous amount of insight into some of the most well-defined characters I’ve come across in recent memory. I’m glad there’s plenty more adventures of the Senran Kagura girls to come in future — in the immediate future, there’s Senran Kagura Shinovi Versus for Vita, Senran Kagura 2 for 3DS and rhythm game spinoff Senran Kagura Bon Appetit. And you can bet your life and hometown I’ll be playing them all.

1756: City of Slightly Less Horror Than Usual

We played the board game City of Horror earlier today. I’m never quite sure whether or not I genuinely like this game as, frankly, it’s a horrible little game that actively encourages its participants to backstab, lie and cheat one another under the pretenses of working together to survive a zombie apocalypse.

At least, that’s what I thought it was prior to our game today.

A little background for those unfamiliar: City of Horror casts players in the role of several zombie apocalypse clichés and tasks them with surviving from midnight until 4am — just four turns, which doesn’t sound like all that much — until the arrival of the rescue helicopter, at which point the survivors need to take an antidote in order to survive, and whoever has the most points worth of surviving, non-zombified people remaining at the end — plus any bonuses — wins the game.

Now, what normally happens with this game — which we tend to play with our full regular group of five people — is that we start out with relatively good intentions, but before long someone does something unpleasant. It might be a little white lie that gets a character killed; it might be refusing to help in a dangerous situation; it might be completely reneging on a deal previously made, since there is no rule that says you have to keep up your end of the bargain when you make an arrangement with another player. Ultimately, there is only one “winner” on points, and so much of the interest in the game comes from determining how to get yourself into an advantageous situation while simultaneously making life awkward for other players.

It’s an interesting game in that it’s highly social and based on interaction. The mechanics are relatively simple, and a lot of the time things boil down to taking a vote on things — whether that’s choosing who gets thrown out of the window to sate the zombies’ hunger this turn, or who gets the supplies that had been air-dropped into a particular location. There’s a surprising amount of flexibility, and the game is wonderful for creating emergent narratives surrounding the various characters, all of whom are B-movie archetypes of various descriptions.

Now, the interesting thing that happened today is that we played it short one regular team member — the one who is often at the centre of the backstabbing and unpleasantness that typically accompanies a game of City of Horror. This may paint him in a somewhat unfavourable light, so I’ll qualify this by saying that he’s actually a very nice guy with a fine sense of humour, but something about this game brings out something very primal in him; a desire to win without caring who he has to tread on on the way to the top.

Halfway through the game we played today, which was, as previously mentioned, lacking this troublesome teammate, we realised that none of us had lost any survivors. This is particularly unusual, as City of Horror is a somewhat cutthroat game, even if you’re cooperating fully with one another and not attempting to screw one another over. But we’d somehow made it to halfway through without anyone causing anyone else’s death, and without any unfortunate circumstances leading to anyone’s death, either.

We jokingly suggested that we should try and make it to the end of the game with everyone surviving. No-one around the table was initially sure whether or not everyone else really intended to hold true to this promise, but as the game continued, it became clear that people were actively working together rather than against one another. Discussions happened about the best course of action. Information was shared that could easily have been kept secret. Opportunities to get one up on the other players were cast aside in the name of cooperation and collaboration.

This doesn’t mean that there was no tension, of course. There was mistrust, somewhat mitigated through some of the game mechanics that allow you to take a degree of “insurance” against anyone messing with you. In my case, I came into possession of some information that would have been of use to the group as a whole, and I was very tempted to lie completely about it — an action that would have probably got several of my opponents’ characters killed. And in the last turn, it would have been extremely easy for one player to run away with things and take the complete victory.

The strange thing is that these things never happened. We cooperated and collaborated right up until the end, and the eventual result was that all sixteen characters who started the game were still alive at the end — well, with the exception of one, who didn’t have an antidote and consequently died after we’d “won” as a group.

It was a peculiar experience, unlike anything I’ve encountered in City of Horror before, and I really enjoyed it. One of my tablemates, who typically prefers competitive games rather than cooperative experiences, commented that he didn’t find it quite as fun as usual, but he was impressed that we’d managed to maintain our uneasy four-way alliance up until the end. Mostly, it was interesting to see that it is possible to complete a game of City of Horror without anyone dying, because the game’s general difficulty level makes it seem as if that simply wasn’t the case.

But, well, it turns out it is. I don’t know if we’ll ever see that happen again, because after all the nastiness of City of Horror is one of its main gimmicks that makes it appealing to our group. But for now, it was good to see that even given plenty of opportunities to be assholes to one another, we all took the noble route and helped one another out to ultimate victory.

1755: Dad Rock

I have a playlist on my phone called “Dad Rock”. The title will be fairly self-explanatory to most of you, I’m sure, but for those wondering why I would call it that when I’m not a father (and have no intention of being one, either), the explanation is actually relatively simple. It’s a playlist full of stuff that I secretly quite enjoyed listening to when I was young and impressionable, but which during my teenage years I steered well clear of owing to the fact that it’s not at all cool to be into records from your Dad’s collection. Not that I was cool at all during my teenage years anyway, but that’s beside the point.

Anyway, the point is, my Dad Rock playlist contains a selection of stuff from artists like Pink Floyd; Yes; Emerson, Lake and Palmer; and the Electric Light Orchestra. It’s a playlist I intend to build on over time as I recall things from the past that I actually quite enjoyed, and ultimately will become a pleasing collection of somewhat retro music (largely erring on the prog rock side of things) that I can listen to at my leisure.

One of the first albums that I added to the mix was Time by ELO. I’m not entirely sure why this album has stuck in my mind all these years, but downloading a copy and listening to it on the way to and from work recently has confirmed to me that yes, it really is a cracking album and one that I’m very happy to have rediscovered.

Time, if you’re unfamiliar, is a concept album based around the theme of a man from 1981 (the year of the album’s original release, and the year of my birth) who somehow finds himself in 2095. The theme is rather flimsy, to be honest, but it’s a good excuse for a selection of vaguely sci-fi-themed tracks about The Future — or at least The Future as imagined in 1981.

What I love about Time is how unabashedly earnest and unironic it is about everything. It features lyrics that would be used in a cynical, sarcastic or parody manner today, but it takes them seriously. Take this wonderful little bit from Yours Truly, 2095, referring to an apparently emotionless robotic woman that reminds the narrator of someone he left behind back in 1981:

She is the latest in technology,
Almost mythology, but she has a heart of stone
She has an IQ of 1,001,
She has a jumpsuit on,
And she’s also a telephone.

Wonderful stuff. And it doesn’t stop there, but I won’t bore you with too many quotes.

What’s interesting about Time is how its vision of the future actually isn’t too far off the mark in a few situations. The above example from Yours Truly, 2095 is extreme, of course, but the prospect of the latest technology having “being a telephone” thrown in almost as an afterthought is already a reality thanks to smartphone technology and software like Skype. Similarly, these lines from Here is the News accurately predicted the launch of round-the-clock rolling news coverage and the subsequent banality that comes with it when there’s not all that much going on.

Here is the news,
Coming to you every hour on the hour,
Here is the news,
The weather’s fine but there may be a meteor shower.
Here is the news,
A cure’s been found for good old rocket lag,
Here is the news,
Someone left their life behind in a plastic bag.

More than anything else, though, Time is an evocative work that uses a variety of different musical styles, some well-crafted (if occasionally cheesy when viewed through a 21st-century lens) lyrics and some genuinely catchy themes. Despite the fact that the “narrative” of the album is somewhat shaky and unclear, it certainly does manage to evoke an uncommonly vivid image of the future — not quite dystopian in nature, but certainly a rather alien existence to that which we know even now in 2014.

Early in the morning,
The sun was up and the sky was very blue,
Without a warning,
As I looked out, my thoughts returned to you,
A noise in the city made the children run,
And hide themselves away,
And thunder boomed and lightning filled the sky.

Since I’ve always known Time as a complete experience — and there’s very much a feeling of a “journey” throughout the tracks, even if the narrative itself is a little muddy — it’s one of those albums that I absolutely can’t listen to on random play, even though I like most of the tracks individually. It’s a work designed to be experienced as a whole, and it’s one that still — for me, anyway — holds up remarkably well today. So I have a feeling there’s going to be at least a few more journeys to and from work with it blasting from my speakers, yet.

1754: Yet Another Exhortation for Websites to Stop Bugging Me

As the years have passed, the Internet has undergone continuous improvement for the most part. It’s now one of the most — if not the most — democratic media in the world, for better or worse, allowing pretty much anyone around the world to speak their brains on pretty much any subject they’d care to share with anyone who wants to listen. (This blog is, of course, a prime example of this in action; I’m still frankly bewildered anyone reads this at all.)

But not every improvement in the Internet has been a positive one. In fact, one thing specifically appears to be on the rise, and it’s not at all a positive thing, despite usually being implemented with good intentions.

I am referring to websites that, within moment of you arriving, pop up a Google Hangouts-style chatbox in the corner of the screen, often featuring a photograph of some overly-chipper looking person, and invite you to “chat” if you need help.

Now, in principle this isn’t a terrible idea. Those who are less familiar with the Internet will probably appreciate having guidance on hand — immediately, and without having to seek it out — should they run into difficulties. (That said, assuming that “those less familiar with the Internet” are too dim to determine that clicking on a link that says “Help” — as most (vaguely useful) websites offer — will actually provide them with assistance is, to be honest, rather insulting towards those who are “less familiar with the Internet”. And yes, I’m primarily talking about old people.) Having a live person on hand is, theoretically, a great thing, as it means you can ask questions without having to work out what the specific search terms to describe the problem you’re having are — and then discover the only vaguely useful search result is an unanswered forum post from three years ago of someone having the exact same problem and never resolving it, of course.

The implementation, however, leaves something to be desired. Take WordPress here, for example. I started composing this post and not five seconds after the post editor had appeared, up popped a little blue box in the corner of the screen cheerfully enquiring “Hello! How can we help?” It’s distracting, it’s annoying, it’s patronising and it is, in this case, unnecessary: I have been using WordPress for… (checks) quite a long time now, and thus it’s probably reasonable to assume I know my way around most of it — and that anything I don’t know how to do I’m perfectly comfortable with looking up in help files and forums.

That doesn’t stop this silly little box from popping up every few times I start creating a post, however — yes, it’s not even every time I start writing a post. No, apparently WordPress believes that maybe two or three times a week I’ll reach some sort of existential blogging crisis and rather than, as most bloggers would do, pontificate about it for a thousand words in a self-indulgent stream-of-consciousness post, I would like to “chat” with someone about it. I do not want to “chat” with anyone from WordPress. I would like them to be on hand if I have a specific question, but I’m more than happy to use the already established channels for that — I don’t need live support.

And it’s not as if this “live” support is particularly live, anyway. Owing to the fact that most chat support people are juggling a number of different conversations at the same time — each of which is with someone who has a markedly different thinking and typing speed from everyone else they’re interacting with — it can often take minutes at a time to get a response. Not exactly “instant” messaging. And, okay, it’s still quicker than waiting a day or two for an email response — or more, if you ever have the misfortune to deal with any sort of government agency via email — but the benefit of instant messaging is supposed to be that you can get an immediate response, and if that one benefit isn’t even present in these ever-present “How can we help?” boxes, then there’s no fucking point them being there in the first place.

I might write a letter. That’s always seemed like the most satisfying — albeit least time-efficient — means of expressing your dissatisfaction. Although sadly, it’s also one of the easiest to ignore in this digital age. But the recipient actually receiving and reading it isn’t necessarily the point in many cases; often putting pen to paper is a cathartic experience that makes the frustrated party get a few things off their chest and calm down a bit. It may not resolve anything in the long run, but, speaking from personal experience, by golly does it sometimes make you feel better.

So that’s how you can help me, WordPress. You can bugger off with your patronising little chat box, otherwise you might just find yourself on the receiving end of a sternly-worded letter written on actual paper.

Or not. I might just stop getting worked up over stupid little things like this and go and do something fun instead. Hah! That’ll be the day, eh?

1753: Shifter

It’s quite surprising what a relatively minor shift in your routine can do for you.

I said yesterday that I was going to try doing my commute a bit earlier than usual and see if that made a difference to my daily journey. Specifically, I woke up at 5:30am, snoozed the alarm for half an hour and got up at 6. Previously, I’ve been waking up at 6:30am, snoozing the alarm for as close to half an hour as I think I can get away with, getting dressed, having a quick breakfast and shooting out of the door as close to 7am as I can manage. Today, I managed to be out of the house well before 6:30am, which meant that it was still dark and cold — although at this time of year it’s still dark and cold at 7am, too — and well on my way to work considerably ahead of my normal schedule.

Surprisingly, I felt pretty alert. Sure, the espresso I had necked before leaving the house probably helped, but I often have one of those on “normal” days, too; this felt somewhat different, like I had somehow hit on the correct biorhythm and synced up my body with what the universe felt I should be doing and when.

I grit my teeth and clenched my buttocks as I approached the accursed M27 and prepared for the worst — and longest — part of my daily journey. I merged onto the main carriageway, accelerated, accelerated, accelerated… and before long, I was cruising at what I’d consider to be a normal motorway speed without being dragged to a grinding halt by overhead flashing lights declaring the recommended speed to be “40” and a sea of tail-lights indicating that no, I’m not going anywhere for a good while yet.

In other words, my journey was smooth, quick, uneventful and, most importantly, completely stress-free. I arrived at my destination in ample time to find a convenient parking space that didn’t involve a mile-long walk to the office; I walked the route to work still feeling fairly chipper and positive, and it put me in a good frame of mind for most of the day: compared to a lot of other days I’ve been working at that place, today was extremely busy and could well have been quite stressful had I arrived in a negative frame of mind. However, due to that good start to the day — all because I went through my morning routine an hour earlier than usual — it didn’t; rather than stressful, it was productive, and I managed to get a whole lot done on a big project that I’ve been working on, which was good.

Shame I had to go and ruin all that with my journey home, then; I noticed rather too late — i.e. once I was on the motorway and approaching a buildup of traffic — that I was low on fuel, and sure enough, a moment later the warning light came on. I pulled off the motorway to go in search of a petrol station, but made the mistake of driving into the black hole of despair that is Fareham, traffic capital of the South Coast, and ended up turning what should have been a 45-minute journey into one that took two hours. In stark contrast to how the smooth run this morning put me in a positive frame of mind, this appalling journey home was stressful, unpleasant and put me in a bad mood — albeit a fleeting one which has dissipated after some food and funny TV.

Just goes to show how little changes can make a big impact on the way your day goes and how you feel. I’m going to see if I can continue the routine of getting up at that earlier time and enjoying a smooth run in to the office of a morning; starting the day right is very important, and I experienced firsthand today what a big difference ensuring that start was a positive one made. So hopefully I will be able to keep it up.

I give it a week before I’m back to rolling out of bed five minutes before I absolutely, positively have to leave the house otherwise I’ll be late. But it’s nice to be (vaguely) ambitious.

1752: Death to Shitty Roads

I may comically exaggerate my dislike of certain things at times, but for the most part these are nothing but exaggerations for (possible) comedic effect. There are very few things in this life that I genuinely hate.

But the motorway that runs along the south coast, connecting, among other places, the town where I live (Southampton) and the town where I work (Havant, just beyond Portsmouth), is one of those things I do hate. Oh, M27, how I loathe and detest you so. How I wish you weren’t so awful. How I wish I wasn’t obliged to drive on you every day since, despite your shittiness, you are the most efficient means for me to get from my home to my work.

The M27 isn’t an especially poorly maintained road or anything — although the patch around Southampton has a somewhat bumpy surface that serves as a convenient “you’re nearly home!” landmark for my return journey — but it clearly isn’t suitable for its purpose. It’s heavily used by commuters every morning and evening rush hour, and it clogs up pretty much every day for well over an hour in either direction. You can set your watch by the traffic reports on local radio saying day after day that the M27 is busy between Fareham and Southampton Airport, since it is literally every single (working) day.

It’s one of those roads that clogs up for seemingly no reason. “QUEUE AHEAD,” the overhead signs will warn, offering a somewhat optimistic recommended speed of first 60mph and then 40mph (which can be translated to 40 and 15-20 in real terms respectively) as the sea of brake lights illuminates ahead and the flow of traffic slows to a crawl. Everyone will proceed like this for a while, and then just as suddenly as it started, it will clear up and start moving again.

There is one part of this dreadful road where it’s possible to see how jams form; I think I mentioned it a few days ago, but while I’m complaining it bears mentioning again. For the most part, the M27 is a typical three-lane motorway in either direction, but for one single solitary mile just beyond Portsmouth, there’s a fourth lane added on the “fast” side, dubbed a “climbing lane”. This is inevitably used by BMW drivers to pull out aggressively, charge past everyone else and then get stuck when, just under a mile later, the lane disappears again, merging back into what was before (and immediately afterwards is again) the “fast” lane. Jams form as those screaming up the climbing lane shove back in to the main flow of traffic, with other cars moving aside in an attempt to get out of the way of these aggressive drivers. Everyone ends up squished against one another and a jam forms; it’s no coincidence that immediately after the end of the climbing lane, the flow of traffic gets back to normal.

The reason I’m whingeing about the M27 this evening is because it decided to be particularly annoying for my journey home. I was tired, I was hungry and I just wanted to get home and relax. But the M27 had other ideas, first throwing a broken-down lorry in the middle lane in the path of everyone, followed by not one, not two, not three but four separate accidents in the space of about five miles. The weather wasn’t even particularly bad; there were just four separate but nearby incidents of disastrous driving; one car with all its windows smashed in the central reservation; another that had obviously skidded off where the motorway and a slip road parted ways at a junction; another where one car had seemingly hit the back of another so hard that the front of the former was practically fused with the latter; and another that I didn’t see just ahead of where I pulled off to actually get home, gnashing my teeth by this point.

I haven’t yet figured out the optimum time to do the commute to and from work. I’m beginning to think it might actually be in the interests of my own sanity to get up ridiculously early and drive in before the rest of the horde hits the roads; that way, I’ll get to come home before the rest of the horde hits the roads on the way back. I’m tempted to try that tomorrow, but it does involve getting up horrendously early, something which I struggle with at the best of times; perhaps it will be worth it, though. We’ll see!

1751: Speaking in Tongues

My Final Fantasy XIV Free Company was afflicted with something that seems to come to all MMORPG guilds at one point or another recently: that which is colloquially referred to as “drama”.

Ultimately, the drama itself wasn’t particularly serious — no-one was hurt and no damage was done, though arguably an ill-thought-out prank by an outgoing member was not the best means of handling the situation — but what I found interesting was the discussions that followed it up.

Essentially, the conclusion that many of us came to is that communication is important. It may sound like a simple piece of advice — common sense, obvious, even — but it’s so easy to forget, even in an inherently social situation like a massively multiplayer online game. In a Free Company the size of ours, it’s inevitable that cliques form, friendships blossom and smaller subgroups start doing things together. That’s the natural way of things, and it’s not necessarily a bad thing at all. That is, until it starts having a negative impact on the group as a whole for whatever reason — perhaps some members see these smaller subgroups as somewhat exclusionary; perhaps the subgroups find it difficult to relate to other people; perhaps everyone could just stand to be a bit more open and honest with one another.

There were a number of contributing factors in this instance that I won’t bore you with now, but suffice to say that a lack of communication was the root cause of the issues we suffered. And, positively, said lack of communication was correctly identified quickly as the root cause of these issues, and people have been making determined efforts to try and make things right. Although the initial “drama” wasn’t particularly pleasant or fun to witness, it turns out it ultimately had a positive impact; people are talking more, cooperating more and doing more things together. Plans have been put in place for more organised cooperation on the more difficult things the game has to offer, and people are just generally being more helpful and pleasant towards one another.

It’s testament to the overall quality of people we have in the Free Company as a whole that the active members — many of whom could be argued to be implicated in the whole exclusivity/lack of communication thing — have taken this stuff happening on the chin, haven’t got angry and upset and have done something positive from it: they’ve learned from it, identified things that we can do better and differently for one another, and ultimately the Free Company will hopefully be a far more pleasant place overall as a result.

Me, I’m mostly just glad it all seems to be over and done with for now. I hate to see friends fighting with one another, or — in this case — just misunderstanding one another. It’s a great pity that the situation led us to lose a few Free Company members who had been with us since the beginning — and people I enjoyed playing with, moreover — but these things happen, and ultimately we’ll be a stronger group as a result.

Now let’s all just enjoy the game!

1750: Time Kompression

Once again, time has been proving itself to be somewhat fluid. I’ve only had a week off from work, but it feels like an eternity; it probably helps that I’ve done one hell of a lot of things in said week off — most notably going back and forth to Scotland, but also last night’s trip to London for Distant Worlds as well as a few other things — but this would seem to disprove the whole “time flies when you’re having fun” theory; I’ve certainly been having plenty of fun, but this week feels like it’s been an extremely long one.

I’m not complaining; it’s been nice to have what actually feels like a really long holiday when, in fact, I’ve only been away for a week. I feel quite rested and relaxed and, necessity of waking up at an ungodly hour for a commute that doesn’t suck all of the balls aside, pretty much ready to face the day tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll be back into the same old routine before long, but that’s not really a bad thing; routines are comfortable and familiar, and form the backbone to one’s existence. Routines mean that breaks like I’ve had this week feel all the more meaningful and enjoyable; times like this week are honest-to-goodness breaks when I don’t have to worry about anything and can just enjoy some legitimately completely free time.

This is something I never really got when I was working from home. Although most of the publications I worked for were perfectly happy for me to take a few days off here and there, it was sort of hard to justify doing so when I have a laptop and could work from literally anywhere there was an Internet connection. Indeed, on a number of occasions I found myself working hard well into the night when I should really have been relaxing and enjoying myself doing other things, but I was always keen to make a decent impression with the effort I made — that and, in the case of things I wrote regularly, such as my Japanese gaming column on USgamer, I didn’t want to let down my audience.

This is something I never really got when I was a teacher, either: you can’t just take a day (or week, or month) off here and there when you’re working as a teacher; you have to go by the holiday calendar the school follows. This makes things both restrictive and prohibitively expensive; school holidays are “primetime” season for travelling, tourist attractions and, indeed, pretty much everything, so the prices are jacked up accordingly. Not only that, it means that there’s just no letting up, even when you need a break for the sake of your health — mental, physical or both. Couple that with the guilt trip you get when you take a day off genuinely sick — you’re expected to provide a full day’s worth of lesson plans for cover teachers to use even if you’re on your deathbed — and the whole situation is just rather shitty all round.

So now I am pleased to enjoy my times of holiday, because they’re just that — time off. Nothing to worry about. No work I “should” be doing while I’m away; no “I’ll just check in on the office email”; no “I’ll just pen a quick article on that” — just rest and relaxation. Bliss.

1749: Distant Worlds

Tonight Andie and I (along with her sister Michelle and Michelle’s boyfriend Rob) took a trip up to London for the Distant Worlds concert at the Royal Albert Hall.

For the uninitiated, Distant Worlds is a series of concerts that has been running for the last seven years or so on the international circuit, celebrating the music of the Final Fantasy series through a multimedia presentation of live orchestral arrangements of iconic tracks from the various games accompanied by relevant game and cutscene footage. It’s a similar sort of affair to the Video Games Live series which I had the pleasure of seeing live a few years back: it combines the formality of an orchestral concert in a world-renowned venue with the energy, enthusiasm and passion of an event that is very much “for the fans”.

And for Final Fantasy fans, most of whom feel a strong connection with the series’ music — although the games have long been regarded as some of the most visually impressive titles in their respective generations, it’s the music that has arguably proven the most enduring, enjoyable element of each installment — it was a dream come true, taking in music from a pleasantly wide selection of games including Final Fantasy VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XIII and XIV.

I was particularly pleased to hear Answers, the wonderfully sweeping main theme from Final Fantasy XIV. The performance of it was very strong, with the live voice choir, orchestra and soloist (whose name escapes me at present) all doing a spectacular job at belting out what is already a very powerful piece of music.

One thing struck me as I watched, listened and let the experience wash over me: ultimately none of the perpetual drama of the games industry, with its fragile egos, professional victims and merciless trolls, matters in the slightest. What does matter is that there are talented groups putting out wonderful works of art that bring people together — in this case, enough people to fill the rather large Albert Hall to capacity and then some.

The cheers that went up as favourite games and songs were mentioned; the standing ovation at the end; the possibly slightly inebriated Northern gentleman who bellowed “I LOVE YOU!” at a delighted-looking Nobuo Uematsu who had just taken the stage — all of these things combined to make a wonderfully memorable experience that made me happy to be a gamer; happy to be a Final Fantasy fan; happy to be part of something bigger than me; happy to be far, far away from the rest of the Internet in my very own Distant World.

A great night all round then, capped off nicely by the fact that Andie and I had the welcome opportunity to quickly meet up with one of our FFXIV guildies beforehand; unfortunately we didn’t get a lot of time together and he wasn’t able to get a last-minute ticket to the concert, but I got my promised bro-hug at least. Thanks for not being a chainsaw-wielding psychopath, Cyra.

Anyway, it’s ridiculously late and I need to sleep. Comic strip will be back tomorrow; for now, naps beckon.