2008: The Wheels Are in Motion

Had some exciting conversations today, and I think it’s probably all right if I tease a few details of what I’ve been up to… and what I’m going to be up to.

After my post the other day regarding game criticism, the modern games press and ways that we might all do things a bit better, I got to talking with a few people, one of whom was Mr Matt Sainsbury over at Digitally Downloaded. Matt and I have been trying to find an opportunity to work together for quite some time, but the whole thing of there really not being much money in the enthusiast press scene made me hesitant. I didn’t want to get myself into a situation where I was working my ass off and creating work I was really pleased with and not being able to be appropriately compensated for it, in other words. (This isn’t anything against Matt or Digitally Downloaded, I might add; rare indeed is the enthusiast gaming site that actually pulls in enough money to pay its staff, which is one of the big problems with the ad-based revenue model I talked about.)

Anyway, long story short: our conversations about magazines attracted a decent amount of interest, and so we decided to discuss things further. And then we decided to act on these discussions by attempting to put together an honest-to-goodness magazine about games, providing the sort of coverage that we want to read, and covering the sorts of games that could really do with a bit more love from the press in general.

Our approach is going to be to take a different “topic” or “genre” (the latter inspired by literary criticism rather than game mechanics) for each issue, and then focus the whole issue around it. We’re nailing down the specifics of the complete format, but this will allow us the flexibility to write some long-form essays about topics that interest us, as well as shorter reviews for games that fit in with the topic. Crucially, going with a topic-based approach rather than keeping things tied to whatever has come out recently means that each issue can effectively be “timeless” and collectible, remaining constantly relevant rather than only being relevant for the month of release. The traditional periodical model of games magazines is of no use whatsoever in the age of instant information on the Internet, so it’s much better to use the print medium for things it’s particularly suited for — in this case, long-form writing presented in a visually attractive manner. (Hopefully, anyway; it’ll be my first time flexing my DTP muscles for quite some time!)

Here’s a couple of cover mockups I and another Digitally Downloaded staffer put together earlier; that should give you a nice little teaser!

If you think all this sounds quite similar to what we were doing with the Squadron of Shame SquadCast during the period where we experimented with topic-based shows, you’d be absolutely right — though the nature of print means that the approach is somewhat different. Regrettably, we’ve really struggled to get people together and/or fired up for recording further podcasts, so that’s been on the back-burner for a while. In the meantime, then, there is this project, and I’m really excited about it.

I’ve written a lot of things over the past few years — not just on this blog, but professionally, and in other personal places, too — but there’s something that will always be magical and wonderful about print media to me. The prospect of being involved in print media always makes me far more excited than the possibility of getting my words on a website — and always has done. I think it’s to do with the potential for having a tangible, physical object in your hands at the end of it all as the fruits of your labours rather than “just” words on a website. I mean, in both cases the important thing is still the words that you’ve written, but there’s something I just love about being able to hold something I’ve written, pick it up, show it to people, read it on the toilet and whatever.

So yes. That’s what I’m going to be up to alongside the other work I’m doing at the moment. We’re aiming for our first issue to release around the end of next month (probably just digitally initially, we’ll look at genuine physical print options later), so please watch out for it and consider grabbing a copy! Also, if you’re interested in participating and contributing, let me know, privately if need be!

2007: Rias is Love

In between the “current” anime shows I’ve been trying to keep up on this season, I’ve been gradually working my way through High School DxD (no, I still don’t really know what the DxD is for — likely something to do with devils) and like it more with each episode.

It’s very much an acquired taste — it’s very in-your-face with its nudity and violence (particularly the former; the latter isn’t especially gory as such, but it can be pretty brutal, and there are some fairly strong and unpleasant threats made at the very least) and consequently both of those things are something you have to be 100% on board with before watching, but if you are, it’s a wild and thrilling ride with some stunning fight scenes, an amazing soundtrack and some extremely memorable characters whose “iconic” status in the world of anime fandom is well-deserved.

I’ve found High School DxD an interesting show to watch because it’s one of the few anime I’ve watched to date that is largely action-focused rather than slice-of-life. I’m a big fan of slice-of-life, because it appeals to that part of me that is fascinated by watching relationships unfold (and, sometimes, collapse) but as my love of JRPGs and Japanese shoot ’em ups in the video gaming world will attest, I’m certainly not averse to some high-octane action, too, and High School DxD delivers that in spades.

One thing that feels a little jarring when you first come across it in a show like this is how much like a Japanese role-playing game the action sequences are. I don’t literally mean that they’re taking it in turns to do things, but they do do things like shouting out the names of their moves, unleashing attacks that level the surrounding scenery and take impacts that would flatten a real human being in an instant. It’s a particularly Japanese stylistic element — Western superhero-type stuff, which is kind of the closest equivalent, doesn’t seem to be quite so overblown in its action sequences except when it’s being specifically inspired by anime (the final battle of The Matrix trilogy springs to mind here) and thus it’s a bit of an adjustment you have to make. Even as a fan of the aforementioned Japanese role-playing games, where this sort of thing is de rigueur, it took a little while for me to embrace the fact that yes, they were doing these things absolutely unironically — and it was awesome.

Special mention should be given to leading lady Rias Gremory here. While the show is a textbook “harem” setup — pervy main character, bevy of beautiful ladies inexplicably throwing themselves at him, eventual and gradual redemption of protagonist into a generally decent person — Rias is a highlight. If this was a visual novel (which it probably is in Japan) then she would be the “true route”. She’s a strong, interesting character with plenty of depth to her that is gradually revealed piece by piece over the course of the show’s episodes. Her relationship with protagonist Issei is intriguing, too; she knows full well that he is overflowing with teenage hormones, and knows just how to take advantage of this fact — but she also clearly comes to regard him with genuine affection.

And yet she’s a devil. This is probably the most interesting thing about High School DxD: it’s a show that centres on ostensibly “evil” characters and portrays them as “the good guys”. And it’s not even portraying them as anti-heroes; when they’re not battling in alternate dimensions to figure out whether Rias has to marry Lord Phoenix, the devils are shown responding to peoples’ requests for help. Okay, accepting a devil’s help does come with a price — making a pact with them — but this is not portrayed as anything that is especially bad for the people involved, and in many cases — particularly when Issei is concerned — the “help” involved is little more than being there for someone who is lonely, or upset, or distressed about something. There is, I feel, some sort of message about religion bringing comfort to those in need here — albeit from the opposite angle to what is typically portrayed.

You may well feel I am reading too much into a show that starts its credits sequence every episode with its entire female cast being completely naked (and concludes each episode with all of them doing various stripper dances) but, as I’ve argued on numerous previous occasions, embracing sexuality in an artistic work doesn’t preclude it from having meaningful things to say — and in this respect, DxD is absolutely more than just fanservice. It’s an exciting, thrilling show that I’m very keen to see more of. Fortunately, I have another two seasons to enjoy yet…

2006: Interstellaria

I’d made a promise to myself not to get suckered into trying any more endearingly retro-styled 2D pixel-art exploration-centric games, because the last few I’ve tried (Terraria and Starbound spring immediately to mind) ended up being enormously disappointing and pretty boring to me. (I’m not necessarily saying they’re bad, mind, more that the Minecraft model of “here’s a world, do stuff in it” just doesn’t really appeal to me any more.)

However, I happened to see Interstellaria on Steam earlier today, and for just £7 I felt I had to take a look at it. And, for once — so far, anyway — I wasn’t disappointed.

Interstellaria is perhaps best described as a successor to the old late-’80s/early-’90s space exploration games like Starflight, Star Control II and Space Rogue. You get a ship, you recruit a crew, you upgrade your ship, you explore the galaxy, you fight things, you discover treasures, you uncover a galaxy-spanning mystery and (perhaps) save the universe in the process.

Interstellaria throws you straight in to its world from the outset. Thrown out of your erstwhile home by your flatmate who is no longer content to have a scrounging, unemployed wastrel living rent-free under their roof, you take to the streets in search of gainful employment. After dismantling a robot for the nice man who lives just over the road from you, you find yourself recruited into the slightly shady-seeming crew of a starship that is about to take off. The starship begins its grand adventure and fends off a pirate attack in a thinly-veiled combat tutorial, then is ripped to pieces by an unknown enemy craft, but not before your former captain runs away, leaving you in charge of the crash landing from which you are ultimately the only survivor.

Fortunately, it seems, you’ve crash landed on a planet where there’s another starship that’s almost in working order. You come across a fellow survivor and team up to get the elderly ship back into space again, and from there it’s up to you to start discovering the truth behind the mystery of the “Abductors”, a race of aliens who appear to be giving the galaxy a certain degree of grief.

From here on, you have freedom to explore and do stuff around the galaxy, though you’re nudged pretty strongly in the direction of following the plot. Gameplay is split into a few different areas: managing your ship, space combat and planetary exploration.

Managing your ship is a little like FTL: Faster Than Light in that you have to assign crew members to stations according to their skills (which develop over time). You also have to take care of your crew’s needs — hunger, boredom and fatigue — by providing them with facilities to relieve these issues whenever necessary. The ship you start with has both limited space to include modules — there’s pretty much room for basic navigation, sensors, engineering and tactical stations and one of each of the “needs” modules and not much else — and power to devote to them, so you have to juggle power around according to your ship’s needs at any given moment.

Get into combat and you’d better hope you remembered to put some power into the weapons systems and charge them up, because you’ll need them. Unfolding on a small tactical display (which provides more information if you have someone manning the sensors) you can move your ship around in real time as well as see incoming missiles, cannon fire and other projectiles. In this way, you can dodge and avoid enemy fire while attacking your foe; it’s an interesting, slow-paced take on “bullet hell” in some ways, and it’s a nicely unconventional take on space combat that is in keeping with the 2D pixel art aesthetic.

Head down onto a planet and you’ll have the option of visiting one or more different landing sites, assuming the planet has a breathable atmosphere. Each landing site is a few screens wide (rather than a never-ending procedurally generated world) and usually features some enemies, some resources to harvest and, occasionally, interesting artifacts, characters and plot-related shenanigans. Controlling each of your crew members independently (or as a group) you can direct them to explore, harvest materials, enter into combat with enemies and interact with the locals. Each planet has a distinctive look, feel and soundtrack (the music is by chiptune artist Chipzel and is really rather good) and manage to feel relatively “organic” without falling back on random procedural generation. (At least I don’t think so.)

The game’s not without its flaws — the interface is a bit clunky in places, the keyboard inputs aren’t as responsive as they could be, camera controls on ground missions are bugged and combat is… lacking in depth, to say the least — but all these issues are more than made up for by the fact that it’s the first game in a very long time that I feel has proven to be an adequate successor to the classic space exploration sims I mentioned earlier. It has a lot of potential to improve over time, and is already an interesting, charming game that is well worth your time, particularly if you’re feeling nostalgic.

2005: Dan’s List of Vita RPGs

This is one of those posts I write specifically to respond to something someone asked me recently where Twitter or chat messages aren’t a particularly ideal solution to give an answer. In most cases, though, people other than the original person who asked can also get something out of my response, so I post it here.

In this case, my good friend Dan Lipscombe enquired as to whether I could give him any Vita RPG recommendations.

Well, of course I can!

Here goes, then. Some Vita RPGs that are either well-regarded or that I have personally enjoyed. This isn’t an exhaustive list by any means!

Persona 4 Golden

This is the one everyone recommends, and with good reason; it’s great. Even if you played the original Persona 4 on PlayStation 2, Golden is worth playing due to its amount of additional content and tweaked gameplay.

If you’re unfamiliar with Persona 4, it’s a combination of murder mystery, school life simulator, dungeon crawler and Pokemon. Taking on the role of a transfer student to a school out in the sticks of Japan, you start investigating a spate of strange murders that sees people disappearing then showing up a few days later hung upside down from television aerials. It’s up to you and your school friends to discover the truth behind what is going on, which is far stranger than you might expect.

Persona 4 Golden is an excellent game that has transcended its originally niche appeal to become a truly mainstream title that most people have heard of by now. It’s well worth playing through to completion — though be warned, it is long. Like, 80+ hours long, even if you don’t do much of the optional side content. It’s a journey well worth taking, though, and the lengthy slog makes the characters’ personal journeys all that more meaningful.

Hyperdimension Neptunia Re;Birth

There are three Hyperdimension Neptunia Re;Birth games on Vita. There’s no real requirement to play them in order, since they’re self-contained stories that don’t really have anything to do with each other, but playing them in order will give you a better understanding of the characters — plus an appreciation for how the series has continually grown, developed and changed for the better over time.

Neptunia’s concept is based on anthropomorphised game consoles going about their business in the land of Gamindustri. The three games’ stories veer off in different directions, but there are usually strong anti-piracy messages involved, along with commentary on not forgetting the past, the futility of fanboyism and general satire of both games industry and anime culture.

The Neptunia games are occasionally clunky, sometimes balanced questionably and not the most technically impressive games you will ever see — but my God, are they ever charming and delightful, not to mention rare examples of comedy and satire in games actually working well.

Hyperdevotion Noire

A spinoff of the main Neptunia series, Hyperdevotion Noire focuses on PlayStation personification Noire and gives the tsundere princess her own personal story. Unlike the regular Neptunia series, Noire is a strategy RPG a la Fire Emblem and Final Fantasy Tactics. A wide cast of characters, each of whom personify a well-known Japanese game series (such as Final Fantasy, Dragon Quest and Resident Evil) all have unique abilities, strengths and weaknesses, and “gimmicks” in each stage force you to think a lot more strategically than “charge at the enemy and cut them down in order”.

I’m not normally very good at strategy RPGs, but Noire is accessible, fun and enjoyable — plus it continues the series tradition of good humour, charm and satire, and Noire is absolutely a strong enough character to carry her own game.

Demon Gaze

If you liked old-school dungeon-crawlers on PC — I’m talking stuff like Wizardry, Lands of Lore and Might & Magic — then you might want to give Demon Gaze a shot. Creating your own custom party of adventurers, you venture forth into an array of dungeons to battle terrible demons, capture them and make use of their power.

In between your adventures, there’s a delightful little soap opera going on in the inn that you and your party call your home, with a cast of colourful characters getting up to all manner of mischief. It’s a lovely blend of the narrative-centric approach that more conventional Japanese RPGs tend to take, and the mechanics-centric, challenge-heavy nature of first-person “gridder” dungeon crawlers. It also has absolutely gorgeous artwork, and an unconventional but enormously catchy soundtrack that makes use of Vocaloid voice synthesisers.

Operation Abyss

I haven’t actually played this one yet, but it’s on my shelf; given that it’s from the same folks who made Demon Gaze, though, it’s a fair bet that it will be similarly good, and the people I know who have played it have enjoyed it a whole lot.

Trails in the Sky

Technically a PSP game, this is downloadable and playable on Vita, and well worth your time. Following the adventures of Estelle and her adoptive brother Joshua as they attempt to become full-fledged “Bracers” — essentially state-supported mercenaries — Trails in the Sky is a sprawling adventure with a beautifully crafted world, some wonderful writing and a fun battle system.

The game blends the sidequest-centric nature of Western RPGs with the more linear storytelling typically found in Japanese RPGs to great effect. The sidequests each have their own little stories and characters to explore, and really help the world to feel truly alive.

Criminal Girls

This one won’t be for everyone due to its relatively explicit sexuality, particularly exploration of sadomasochistic themes. If you can deal with that sort of content, though — along with the fact it’s very obviously a PSP port — Criminal Girls tells a fascinating tale of personal redemption for a colourful cast of characters as they come to terms with traumatic experiences from their past and attempt to move beyond them.

Criminal Girls is noteworthy for its exploration of “trust” through both its narrative and its mechanics — I wrote in more detail on this topic here.

Akiba’s Trip

Not an RPG in the typical sense, Akiba’s Trip is most akin to Sega’s Yakuza series in that it provides an open world that covers a relatively small geographical area — in this case, Tokyo’s Akihabara district — and a ton of things to do, plus a nigh-unparalleled sense of atmosphere thanks to its detailed world.

Thrown into the underworld by your discovery of — and recruitment into — the ranks of the “Synthisters” (essentially synthetic vampires), it’s your job to find out where this scourge has come from and put a stop to it — while simultaneously keeping your little sister happy, taking photos for tourists and attempting to end up in the arms of one of the game’s lovely leading ladies.

Akiba’s Trip has fun brawler-style combat with a huge selection of upgradeable weapons ranging from baseball bats to bus stop signs and computer monitors. Combat involves smacking Synthisters around a bit until they’re in a position where you can grab their clothes and rip them off them, which exposes them to sunlight and, in true vampire tradition, causes them to combust.

Steins;Gate

This isn’t an RPG at all, but if you own a Vita (or PS3… or PC) and haven’t read this extraordinary visual novel, you need to right now. Blending real-world urban myths (such as the legend of John Titor and questions of what CERN are really up to with that big underground particle accelerator) with a creative yet plausible interpretation of how time travel and parallel worlds might work, Steins;Gate follow the adventures of an impressively unreliable narrator as he tries his best to stop something horrible happening to someone he cares about.

Here’s a full review of it.

There are tons more great RPGs and visual novels available on Vita, but I’ve rambled on for over 1,200 words now, so that should be enough to get you started. Hope you enjoy at least some of these!

2004: Some Idle Thoughts About Game Reviews, Game Criticism and Alternative Ways of Doing Things

I participated in an interesting conversation on Twitter earlier today (in fact, it’s still going on as I type this) on the subject of game reviews and game criticism.

It’s been pretty apparent for a while now that the current model of reviewing games is not ideal for the industry as a whole. From a consumer perspective, it’s arguably valuable to have some sort of thoughts up by the time a new product is released, but this leads to a “race to be first” (or, at the very least a “race to be up by embargo time”) when it comes to coverage which, in many cases, can lead to the sacrificing of depth in the name of speed.

Plus there’s the matter of opinions changing over time, and initial opinions being incorrect, ill-founded or based on limited exposure and immersion.

Games-X was one of the earliest magazines my brother worked on -- and, to my knowledge, the only weekly newsstand games mag. — Games-X was one of the earliest magazines my brother worked on — and, to my knowledge, the only weekly newsstand games mag.

“I like how no-one criticises Nier now,” tweeted Mr Matt Sainsbury of Digitally Downloaded, one of my favourite places to go for fair, balanced coverage of the sort of things that I’m into these days. “Now everyone remembers it as pure art. Pity they didn’t realise this when the game was new. Actually, screw it. I’m calling this now. 50 years from now Nier will be the games industry’s Citizen Kane. Citizen Kane only got the respect it has now after a couple of decades. I think Nier will be that game.”

Matt has a point. Nier’s Metascore — a somewhat questionable aggregation of a variety of review scores from across the Internet through unclear, possibly not particularly scientific means — sits at 68 for the PlayStation 3 version and 67 for the Xbox 360 version. Taken as a pure figure, 68 is well above average, but in the world of games scoring, “not quite 7 out of 10” is regarded as a “bad” game that most people will avoid. (There are exceptions to this rule, of course, like me — someone who gladly paid money for Hyperdimension Neptunia despite its Metascore of 45 — but for the most part, people will avoid anything under about 80/8 out of 10 or so.) Consequently, Nier was regarded as “not very good” on its original release, and a lot of people avoided it as a result.

Edge is one of the few remaining newsstand magazines, but it suffers a little for being both mainstream and industry-centric. — Edge is one of the few remaining newsstand games magazines, but it suffers a little for being both mainstream and industry-centric.

Zip forward to E3 of this year, however, and by far the most exciting announcement for many people was the impending sequel to Nier, developed as a collaboration between original director Yoko Taro and Platinum Games. Apparently, it seems, in the intervening period between Nier’s original release and its mediocre reviews, a number of people decided to take a chance on it despite its lukewarm critical reception and discovered that, contrary to what the reviews suggested, it is actually a beautifully crafted work of art that not only tells a compelling story, it actively subverts and deconstructs the audience’s expectations in terms of both narrative and mechanics. Unfortunately, that 68 Metascore stands as a permanent blot on its copybook, so it will forever be regarded as a work of “unappreciated genius” by some, and a game not worth bothering with by many others. It’s astonishing that we’re even getting a sequel at all.

The case of Nier highlights a key flaw in the current model of video game reviews and criticism, then: the fact that the value of a work doesn’t necessarily become immediately apparent, and that it’s often necessary to spend a protracted amount of time both engaging with the work and reflecting on it in order to come up with some truly meaningful thoughts about it. Meanwhile, the current review model doesn’t take into account the matter of specialist, niche interests, instead approaching every review from some sort of non-existent “everyman” perspective and concentrating far too much on a title’s immediate appeal rather than its lasting cultural contribution (if any) and, as business types are wont to say, its “long tail”. (This doesn’t even get into the matter of games that actively grow and change over time like MMOs, but that’s a subject for another day.)

I’ve been thinking about how things might be done a bit better, assuming money were no object — the reason we have today’s “race to be first” model is due to the press’ over-reliance on pay-per-click advertising, so until we find an alternative means of getting people to pay for content, whether or not it will make money is always going to be a determining factor here.

Specialist games magazines do exist and can do well -- PC Pilot's been around for a while now. — Specialist games magazines do exist and can do well — PC Pilot’s been around for a while now.

My ideal scenario would be an outlet or publication that employs specialist writers in various different fields, rather than a small team attempting to cover as many bases as possible. Perhaps the publication itself has a laser-sharp focus on a particular genre or style of game, or perhaps the writers, between them, divvy up the things they feel comfortable and confident writing about.

Specialist writers is a starting point, but it’s not enough. Take the “race to be first” out of the equation, too. Give writers sufficient time to immerse themselves in a particular work in order to be able to form some coherent, deep and meaningful thoughts about it, whether positive or negative. Allow them the opportunity to develop feelings towards a game that go well beyond “immediate impressions” and instead enter the realm of true criticism and analysis. Give the games the chance to demonstrate what their cultural impact, if any, is.

So how can this be done? It’s difficult to say, but I can’t help but feel that the return to a traditional magazine model would probably be a good way to go about doing this. There are a few reasonably successful Internet-distributed modern gaming magazines around these days — Kill Screen and Five Out of Ten spring to mind — but these tend to still have a fairly broad focus on titles with mainstream appeal that have already been talked about to death. The current Five Out of Ten, for example, features articles about Mario Kart 8, Bayonetta, The Binding of Isaac, Baldur’s Gate, XCOM and Magic: The Gathering, all of which are subjects that have had no shortage of coverage over the last 20 years or so. Granted, Five Out of Ten (and Kill Screen, for that matter) tends to come at these subjects from unconventional angles, but it’s still wringing out material from the same old games we read about on big sites like GameSpot, IGN and their ilk.

The reason I feel a magazine-based model is appropriate is because you can set a much more infrequent publication cycle. There’s no rush to get coverage out on day one, so long as there’s at least some relevant material in each issue. When you have a set deadline and publication date, it’s much easier to plan in advance what you’re going to cover when. And if you’re planning this far in advance, you can elect to focus on a much smaller number of titles and approach them from a specialist perspective rather than taking a scattershot approach of trying to cover everything.

The sadly defunct PC Zone was noteworthy in that its online material complemented rather than recreated its hardcopy content. Also it had a cover feature about hentai games way back in 1993. Bold!

Now, here’s the thing. A magazine is all very well and good, but given the average attention span of people on the Internet these days, it’s important to have some form of ongoing conversation up and running, too, so I feel the magazine itself should probably be supported by regular coverage of some description. Crucially, though, this regular coverage shouldn’t fall into the trap of being the usual news/reviews/previews model, because otherwise why bother with the magazine side of things at all. Instead, leverage the immediacy of Internet blogging and make the daily updates more personal to the individual writers; rather than an individual article being a review of a specific thing, perhaps it could be their thoughts on a pertinent topic of the moment — or here would be a good opportunity to present some initial impressions of a new game without giving a final judgement on it.

My idle thoughts on this would see a magazine released at regular intervals — perhaps every two months, particularly if it would have to start on a volunteer/contribution basis — along with one daily online update at a predictable time from the regular “staffers”. Ideally there would be enough staffers for there to be a different person writing each day, allowing the audience to develop a personal relationship with favourite writers and know that, say, they could read my thoughts on Tuesdays, or Writer B’s comments on Wednesdays, or whatever. This way the content is kept flowing and relevant on the Internet — as well as providing a “personal” touch that allows the readers to feel closer to the writers, which is the biggest strength of immediate Internet writing — but it affords the writers the time to immerse themselves in the things they want to write in more detail about for the more lengthy, substantial magazine articles.

As for funding, well, the ad-based model needs to go away ideally, though the use of daily updates could still bring in a few pennies if the content is compelling enough. Instead, the magazine — or indeed the content as a whole, including the website — needs to be compelling enough to convince people that they would like to contribute regularly to it through a service like Patreon or the like, or simply through purchasing individual copies of the magazine as they’re released.

I wonder if this is in any way a viable model for doing things. I’m actually quite curious to give it a go, but I wouldn’t be able to do it by myself by any means. If any of the above is of interest to you, then — and you’re interested in taking it seriously and giving it a solid shot to see what happens — then get in touch and we can talk more about hammering out some details.

2003: Sound! Euphonium

Anime, as a medium, is most well-known for its more exaggerated aspects. Exaggerated action in titles like High School DxD, Attack on Titan and Sword Art Online; exaggerated comedy in shows like To Love-Ru, Squid Girl and Monster Musume; exaggerated horror in shows like Hell Girl and… uh… some others (horror is one angle I’m not massively familiar with as yet). Even pornographic hentai anime tends to be exaggerated, with participants screaming in pleasure (and usually narrating the action just in case it wasn’t already abundantly clear what was going on) and gentlemen ejaculating with the force of Niagara Falls several times in the space of five minutes without any need for recuperation in between.

Uh, what was my point again? Oh, right. Anime is most well-known for being exaggerated. But occasionally something comes along that subverts your expectations and proves that not only is anime a particularly good medium for this sort of exaggerated action — the use of animation means that you can depict things that are physically impossible and/or impractical to show with traditional live-action special effects, as I discussed some time ago — but it’s also a really solid medium for down-to-earth, human, heartfelt and honest drama.

There are a number of good examples of relatively “low-key” drama anime; the most well-known ones are things like Clannad and AnoHana, which are both notorious for being particularly emotional, particularly towards their conclusions. More recently, I’ve been very much enjoying a curiously named show that was fairly popular last season: Sound! Euphonium, also known as Hibike! Euphonium or simply anime-eupho depending on who you’re talking to on which platform.

Sound! Euphonium is a show, like most anime, about high school kids. (There’s a very good reason for the perpetual use of school as a setting for anime, but that’s a subject for another day.) As the peculiar title suggests, it’s also a show about music. But this isn’t an exaggerated Love Live! kind of affair, where the kids involved have unrealistic goals that they manage to magically attain without any real explanation (not that there’s anything wrong with that; I adore Love Live!) — Sound! Euphonium focuses on the rather mundane experiences of a school concert band.

Sound! Euphonium centres largely on Kumiko Oumae, a euphonium-playing girl just starting her high school career shortly after her middle-school concert band just missed out on attending a national competition. Kumiko is wracked with guilt over her last words to her former bandmate Reina Kousaka, who was utterly convinced that their band deserved to go the distance — Kumiko disagreed and incredulously asked Reina if she truly believed that they would have ever made it to Nationals. Reina, understandably, was upset at this line of questioning, and the two parted on bad terms.

Kumiko is surprised to discover that Reina is also attending the high school she chose; she’s surprised because Reina has a great deal of talent on her instrument — the trumpet — and the ambition to compete at a national level. Meanwhile, the school they are both attending has a concert band that, upon their arrival, is best described as somewhat mediocre; Reina had her pick of the prestigious schools in the area, many of which have much better concert bands, but she chose the same one as Kumiko for some reason. It later transpires that the reasons for her decision were something to do with the teacher who takes over coordination of the concert band — and who encourages the students within to push themselves as hard as they can through some harsh but fair methods — and perhaps even something to do with her feelings for Kumiko herself.

What I particularly like about Sound! Euphonium is the fact that it’s one of the most realistic depictions of high school music I’ve ever seen. It takes great care to show characters using their instruments correctly and realistically — and not just while they’re playing them; incidental footage during scenes shows characters cleaning their instruments and performing proper maintenance, too. Having lived the concert band life at school — including some competitions and tours, though nothing at a nationally recognised level — I find Sound! Euphonium’s depiction of this aspect of high school life enormously compelling and pleasantly nostalgic.

One thing it captures particularly well is the inherent romanticism and intimacy I’ve always found in making music as an ensemble. During my hormonal teenage years, the majority of people I found myself attracted to were somehow connected to me through the arts in one way or another — primarily through music. While my feelings were usually unrequited, that never really mattered too much; the thrill of sitting next (or near) to someone I liked and making music with them was usually more than enough. The feeling of “butterflies in the stomach” I’d get on the evening of a concert performance as I shared my nervousness with my friends and the object(s) of my affections was something I found intoxicating and exciting; while it was never the primary reason I enjoyed making music — that was always the simple joy of… well, making music — it was a happy perk.

Sound! Euphonium captures this feeling particularly well in its later episodes. An extremely intimate moment between Kumiko and Reina in one episode in particular makes for one of the most honest, heartfelt scenes I’ve seen in any story for quite some time — and after this scene has taken their relationship to a new level (no, they don’t get it on or anything like that, before your filthy mind starts running away with you, pervert) the chemistry and electricity between these two characters is palpable: every glance between them becomes wistful and lingering; every touch becomes sensual and exciting; every unspoken understanding between them clearly deepens their connection without a single word being said. I haven’t yet seen the entire run so I don’t know how — or if — their relationship resolves itself or pans out, but at the stage I’m currently at, it’s enormously exciting and compelling to see.

Sound! Euphonium is well worth a watch, then, particularly if you’re a fan of somewhat more understated drama. Kumiko is a fascinating character, clearly struggling somewhat with a degree of social anxiety and depression — which, as you may well expect, makes her enormously relatable for me — and her relationships and interactions with her friends and bandmates make for compelling drama. It’s a very honest, heartfelt show, and a marked contrast to the more exaggerated end of the anime spectrum — and for that reason, I have a feeling it will stay with me long after I’ve seen the final credits roll.

2002: Arcade Games are Alive and Well

We live in an age where the default assumption about video games is that they will be big-budget affairs with star-studded voice casts, more pyrotechnics than a Michael Bay movie and, indeed, a budget to match. The reason for this is that many of the games that become household names — Call of Duty, Assassin’s Creed, Grand Theft Auto — very much fall into this category, at least partly due to their marketing budget, but also due to their perceived “quality”. Games have moved on since their roots in the ’70s and ’80s, or so the popular theory seems to go, and we should be looking to our interactive entertainment for challenging creative works that offer interesting new spins on social themes; deep emotional narratives; and innovative play mechanics.

As someone who grew up roughly alongside the birth of gaming (give or take a few years; I wasn’t quite around for Pong) I think I speak for many other members of my cohort when I say that the above is all very well and good and should be celebrated when it’s done well, but sometimes all you want to do is shoot or punch the shit out of some things without having to think about anything too complicated.

Astebreed is a great shooter with a ton of immediacy but a rewarding amount of depth for those willing to learn its intricacies.

One of the things I’ve been gratified to discover about the PlayStation 4 as a gaming platform is that it appears to be becoming an excellent home to a wide variety of arcade-style experiences as well as the big-budget, big-name games of today. The PC has been happily championing this sort of thing for a while thanks to its well-established digital distribution systems, and the Xbox 360 looked for a while like it might be assisting in the revitalisation of the “arcade-style” experience thanks to Xbox Live Arcade (which started to disappear up its own arse once things stopped costing 400 or 800 Microsoft Spacebux and instead took 1200 as the “default”) but I feel like this is a field where the PlayStation 4 in particular is really starting to come into its own.

While I’m still ploughing through Omega Quintet on PlayStation 4 (I’m approaching the Platinum trophy now, at last!), the last few games that I’ve bought and really enjoyed on the platform are all short, arcade-style, score attack-type titles that are just plain fun. None of them are trying to say anything particularly deep and meaningful (with the possible exception of Astebreed, which has one of the densest half-hour narratives I think you’ll ever find in a video game) and are instead focused on the simple joy of play: the thrill of taking on seemingly insurmountable odds, the fun of seeing scores climb into the millions, the satisfaction of beating your friends.

Blue Estate is pretty much a PS1/Dreamcast-era lightgun shooter, making good use of motion controls to approximate the arcade experience.

The games in question — and doubtless there are more, but these are the ones I’ve been particularly enjoying — include cinematic Japanese shoot ’em up Astebreed, Western bullet-hell shooter Jamestown+, the Defender-inspired Resogun, the inordinately satisfying rock-bursting shmup Super Stardust and lightgun-style rail shooter (a genre I thought was dead) Blue Estate. If you’re looking for a quick fix of gaming and don’t have the time or inclination to sit down and start chipping away at something more substantial like an RPG, I can happily and confidently recommend all of the above; they’re fun, they have a ton of immediate appeal but a lot of hidden depth, they’re easy to understand and teach to others (and, in most cases, have some form of multiplayer mode) and, for those concerned about such things, they’re cheap.

Smoky, beer-scented arcades may well be fast becoming a thing of the past, but the arcade-style experience still very much lives on at home on PS4… and on Vita too, for that matter, but that’s probably a whole other day’s post, so we’ll leave that for another day!

2001: A Boring World Where the Concept of Dirty Jokes Doesn’t Exist

I’m keeping up to date with a few current anime series at the moment, partly in an attempt to be able to join in the conversations surrounding them online while they’re relevant, and partly because I liked the look of them.

One that I’ve found particularly noteworthy is called Shimoneta: A Boring World Where the Concept of Dirty Jokes Doesn’t Exist, typically shortened to Shimoseka as an abbreviated form of its original Japanese name Shimoneta to Iu Gainen ga Sonzai Shinai Taikutsu na Sekai.

Shimoseka is an interesting concept. At first glance, it looks as if it’ll be fairly straightforward slice-of-life material, but there’s an interesting dystopian future angle to it. The story is set 16 years after the passing of a law in Japan that made all lewd and coarse material and language illegal, all in the name of public decency and healthy child-rearing. All citizens are fitted with a device which can detect when they’re using inappropriate language or even drawing inappropriate pictures. The price for this lack of freedom is a constant connection to the world’s information at the tip of your fingers — everyone’s wrist sports a neat little holographic computer thingie that acts as the natural extension of today’s smartphones.

The protagonist Tanukichi is the son of a notorious “terrorist”; in actual fact, said “terrorist” was guilty of nothing more than expressing his (sexual) frustration at the prudishness of modern society. We’re introduced to Tanukichi as he starts his new high school life at an institution he’d chosen primarily because of Anna, a girl he liked: a girl who, unlike much of the rest of society, didn’t judge him for being his father’s son, but rather appreciated him for who he is. That was many years ago, however, and she doesn’t initially remember him, so doubtless the series will explore their developing relationship and why she means so much to him.

As Tanukichi makes his way to his new school, however, he encounters “Blue Snow”, another notorious terrorist who habitually shows up clad in nothing more than what appears to be an artist’s smock (with no underwear underneath) and a pair of panties on her face. Blue Snow allows him to flee from an unfortunate misunderstanding on the train to school that could have seen him landed in prison, and Tanukichi is very surprised to later discover that his “saviour” is, in fact, Ayame, a member of the school’s student council who presents her public face as being somewhat quiet, stern and hard to approach.

Ayame’s “public face” couldn’t be further from the truth, however. She has a filthy mind and a foul mouth — plus, conveniently, a device on her elderly flip-phone that allows her to freely use as much coarse language as she likes for just a few minutes each day. Ayame quickly recruits Tanukichi to her cause in an attempt to educate the ignorant masses in the wonders of sexuality and “body-melding”, since the student body is so ignorant of basic biology that it’s clearly going to be a problem for future generations.

Shimoseka is interesting in that it feels like a direct response to several things. In some respects, it feels like it’s an interpretation of Japan’s notoriously low birth rate — modern day Japan’s enthusiasm for erotically charged and explicit material is often attributed to this. In others, it feels like it’s a take on Japan’s curious censorship laws, in which sexually explicit material isn’t outright banned, but instead makes use of the most half-hearted censorship in which things like penises and vaginas are still clearly visible, but blurred out with mosaics. In another sense still, Ayame in particular feels like a literal interpretation of the concept of honne and tatemae, the division of the “private” (honne) and “public” (tatemae) faces: putting up a respectable façade to the world while being as deviant as you like in the comfort of your own home.

Speaking from a Western perspective, Shimoseka feels even more curiously relevant considering the growth in “moral policing” that there’s been over the last few years. Given that Japanese media is often on the receiving end of these tedious tirades from self-appointed “think of the children” moral crusaders, it’s entirely appropriate that it would be a Japanese work that shows the inevitable consequences of allowing this sort of behaviour to continue unchecked. It’s obviously an extreme example, but it’s powerful and relevant given the climate of “criticism” (and I use that term loosely) that we live in today. I find it hard to believe that this angle couldn’t have been deliberate; while Japan generally doesn’t give much of a shit what prudish Westerners think of their pretty cartoon girls with big tits, many creators have doubtless run into these attitudes at one time or another, and Shimoseka has — so far, after two episodes, anyway — acted as an excellent smackdown to such criticisms, albeit in a fairly heavy-handed manner.

So far it’s been a really good show, then. I’m looking forward to seeing more, if only to hear more of the creative obscenities that Ayame habitually hurls forth. Cock-a-doodle-pussy, indeed.

2000: Two Thousand

Hello! How are you? I’m fine. I hit a milestone today; two thousand consecutive daily posts on this blog. Back when I started doing this, I probably wouldn’t have believed that I’d make it this far (or, indeed, that I’d keep count correctly — which I’m still not entirely convinced I have, but I’ll take it) but, well, here we are.

I say “we”; I have a feeling that readers have come and gone over the years as I’ve written about different things, different events have occurred in my life and different interests have come and gone. There’s only one thing that’s been consistent about this blog over the last 2,000 days (and, indeed, before that, when I posted rather more irregularly) and that’s that it isn’t really about anything.

Well, that’s not quite true, I guess. It’s about me, as dreadfully vain as that sounds. But, well, that’s what it is.

I resolved shortly after starting the original #oneaday project — the reason I’m doing this whole “daily posting” thing at all — to use this blog as a place where I could always be open, frank and honest, even if I sometimes found it difficult to do so in person. As longtime readers will, of course, know, I struggle somewhat with social anxiety issues, and at times I find it challenging to talk about “difficult” subjects. (The exact meaning of “difficult” varies somewhat from day to day, but rest assured most of them probably aren’t what a “normal” person would really describe as in any way challenging to talk about.)

One thing I discovered through the original #oneaday project, though, was that writing is a good outlet. A fantastic outlet, in fact. It allows me to say things that I can’t find the out-loud words for. It allows me to express opinions that I’m not sure how to get across in person. It allows me to share things about myself that might otherwise be embarrassing or difficult to share with other people face-to-face. And it allows other people to get to know me a bit better.

One thing is very much for certain; it’s helped enormously. Having a reliable, predictable means of expressing myself on a daily basis is something that I’ve found to be of immeasurable value over the course of the last 2,000 days, and while the same therapeutic effect could probably be achieved by writing in a private journal — and that way no-one has to suffer through my inane ramblings except Future Pete any time he decides to flip back through the pages and decide whether or not Past Pete’s inane ramblings are embarrassing enough to warrant throwing the entire book out — there’s a little part of me that enjoys the knowledge that other people are reading the things I write. Whether or not they find them helpful or even entertaining is anyone’s guess, but, well, as the old #oneaday mantra goes, this blog isn’t “for” anyone except myself; the sole purpose of this blog is to get me writing every day.

And I’ve done that. For two thousand days. In terms of world culture my contribution is questionable at best, but I’m pleased with what I’ve achieved, anyway.

So looking to the future, then. Regular readers will doubtless have noticed that I’ve redesigned this place. I did so when I reached 1,000 posts and always intended to when I reached 2,000, too. This time around it’s a more drastic redesign, with a new theme, new art style and all sorts of other goodness. The reason I did this was simply because I wanted to, frankly, but I also feel making use of some manga/anime-inspired artwork (courtesy of clunky but fun app ComiPo!, which I haven’t used that much up until now) reflects my personality and interests as it exists in 2015. I don’t know how ambitious I’ll get with the artwork or how often I’ll put it in there — I enjoyed doing my old stickman comics and feel they’re very “me”, but they were surprisingly time-consuming and eventually became a bit of a chore — but it’ll show up every so often, at least. Plus, it’s an opportunity for my MoeGamer mascots Midori (redhead; I know, I know, she should probably have green hair) and Yumi (grumpy) to put in an appearance on a somewhat more regular basis than they have the opportunity to over on my irregularly-updated Japanese gaming-centric site.

Anyway. To those of you who have been reading since day one, I appreciate your support. To those of you who have been reading for a while, I appreciate your support, too. In fact, anyone who takes the time out of their day — however infrequently — to read the drivel I push out, usually when I’m about to go to bed: I appreciate your support very much indeed.

Here’s to another two thousand days… maybe.

1999: Sowing Discord

I’m always interested to find alternative ways to do things when it comes to technology, particularly if a once-reliable tool has become a messy piece of bloated crap.

Such is my feeling towards Skype, the well-known piece of messaging software that old people think is the only means of talking to people in other countries via the Internet.

Skype used to be great. It used to be simple, efficient, easy to use and easy to understand. It was intuitive and worked well. Then Microsoft got hold of it, and the entire application was redesigned from top to bottom and made almost the exact opposite of all the above adjectives. It’s now a cluttered, inefficient, clunky and unintuitive pile of hot garbage — and, for many users, a hog on system resources, too. It still does the job — just about — but its frustrating aspects far outweigh its benefits for me these days, particularly when all I really use it for is in-game chat for games that don’t directly support voice chat.

I was switched on to an app called Discord by a part-time member of our raid group in Final Fantasy XIV. I’ve never really looked into gaming-centric VOIP solutions like TeamSpeak or Mumble before, largely because they sounded complicated (and sometimes expensive) to set up. But Discord promised to be free, easy to set up and intuitive.

And what do you know? It really is.

Discord works similarly to services like TeamSpeak and Mumble in that you set up “servers”, which are private collections of text and voice channels that can each have their own permissions set. People then join the server’s public channels and, where applicable, are invited to private channels as necessary. From there, it’s a nicely self-contained system that means you can keep all your in-game friends in one easy-to-manage place, and you can make use of voice chat with them without having to dick around with “calling” each other — you just all join the same communal channel.

Best of all, it’s cross-platform, and even works in your web browser if you’re on a public computer or don’t want to download anything. It has game auto-detection systems that let your friends know what you’re playing and if you’re online, and some highly customisable notifications and text-to-speech options for true flexibility. In short, it seems like a really great piece of software that is an ideal solution for those who want a means of chatting with one another both in-game and out of the game, and it’s certainly a lot better than the big bag of dicks Skype has become over the course of the last couple of years or so.

I’m conscious I sound like an advert here, but, well, if you’re looking for something that fits the description I’ve given above, give it a shot. (If, on the other hand, you’re an elderly person looking to talk to your children who live abroad, as the stereotype goes, Skype probably still fits your needs just fine.)

Find out more here.